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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

Life As Normal
Dream Terrors: Part One
Dream Terrors: Part Two
The Great Black
The Hunt for the Most Bloodshed
A Rose Of Pure Ice
(Killing Him with Kindness)
|A| Dream Terrors |A|
Awakening from the Nightmare
The Beast Within: Part One
Dreaming of Your Death
The Beast Within: Part Two
- Horrible Night Terror -
The Sands of Time
Dream Terrors Part 3
The Wargarian War Council
Defenseless
Flames...
My first experience with magick
Deadly Dreaming
|A| Waking Terrors |A|
Waking Dreams
Waking Dreams
A Waking Nightmare
Help them
Powerlessness, and power
Dream or Premonition..?
Protect Them (1/2)
Protect Them (2/2)
X Victim of the Plague X
(Dwarf Herding)
Challenge Accepted
The Horns of Power
Guide Them
The Lifesong
Praying for the End
Losing Balance. *P1*
Losing Balance. *P2*
Nothing Shall Save You (Deathsong)
Lifesong: The Request for Zandreya
Father For The Mother
X Burning Bridges X
The First Dream
Sleeping History: Phred's Dreaming
X Ashes to Ashes X
Raising Hell: Prelude of the Storm I
The Stench of Death
Back or was She
Time for rest(like it or not)
Donning the Robes
Raising Hell: Prelude of the Storm II
The End of the Past
Reflections of an Orc (Part Three)
Reflections of an Orc (Part Four)
Restless Wings
Raising Hell: Prelude of the Storm III
The Mistake
The Dusting : A Tale of Voyage (Part 1)
The Life of an Orc (Part One)
The Life of an Orc (Part Two)
The Ardurae
The Life of an Orc (Part Three)
The Love of Work
Likable Lies
-{{Whispers on the Wind}-
X In the Presence of Divinity X
Exalted
Exalted II
Creating Hell
The Necromancer
Modern Day History
The return of honor - A return home
The return of honor - A return home - conclusion
Alone
Filling the Graves
Truthless
Sailing the Underworld Channel
The Past Becomes the Present.
X Another One Bites the Dust X
I accidentally crushed it...
Passage of Time
Rmed in Shokono
Rmed in Shokono Part 2
Takeri's Plight, Taggett's Past
A Child's Curiosity
Mother's Little Nightmare
Undead (1 of 2)
Undead (2 of 2)
Eszka's Returning
Shattered Heart
Jail Time Day 2 part 3
Inevitability
Departure.
(Storytime) - The Gaggle of Knights
-Calithie Shalonost-
(King of the Hill) ...or not?
New Hope and New Beginnings
Raising Hell: Prelude of the Storm IV
Phred in Faerie





Writer: Taggett
Date Mon Jun 29 22:48:42 2015

To All Arkane Bruun Crokus Eszka Zooey Palquinn Shalrienne Imm *RP*

Subject Life As Normal


A tiny clown fish kissed a few small piece of coral, and Taggett wondered
what he was thinking. She wondered if he existed at all. She hadnt slept
since Palquinn had made their way in a stumble sleep like state to the
Fellowship Saloon. The ritual had worked. She with the help of Zooey,
Bruun, Crokus, Eszka and Shalrienne, had finally waken Palquinn Sliverstream
from the near death like sleep shed put the kender in centuries ago. Her
only concern was what it might mean for those that walked through the realm
of the dead with her that night. Would they be alright?

Taggett let herself fall back into the pile of pillows and faced her friend.
It was nice to know that this sleep was only temporary. That Palquinn would
wake once her mind and spirit had time to rest. There was much they needed
to discuss. She couldnt break it to the kender how much time had really
passed since the spell had locked her away from the world. There would be
enough time to face the reality of the situation. It was nice to just let
her think it wasnt a big deal. It was nice to feel like things were going
to go back to normal.

A wide yawn tried to pull Taggett to sleep. She was too excited and her
mind wouldnt listen to her body. Finally, things could get back to normal.
They could start a life in Arkane. All of the mess shed made with her magic
was behind them. They could try to make a normal go of things. Sleep clung
to her eyes and for a moment she nodded off. With a start the Life Mage
woke, looking around the room that had the illusion of being deep under
water, surrounded by a magic bubble. Her chest hurt, she couldnt shake the
feeling something had been sitting on it.

She smiled to Palquinn the feeling subsiding. It was time to let things get
back to normal.




Writer: Euterah

Date Tue Jun 30 11:30:39 2015




Writer: Ogut
Date Tue Jun 30 17:45:29 2015




Writer: Ogut
Date Tue Jun 30 17:52:01 2015




Writer: Euterah
Date Tue Jun 30 18:47:21 2015




Writer: Euterah
Date Tue Jun 30 19:43:13 2015




Writer: Mahina
Date Tue Jun 30 21:32:58 2015




Writer: Vitriosablet
Date Tue Jun 30 22:32:17 2015




Writer: Eszka
Date Tue Jun 30 23:08:35 2015

To All Arkane Taggett Palquinn Zooey Shalrienne Crokus Brunn Fynix Zarina Azah Letholdus ( Imm rp )

Subject Dream Terrors: Part One


Her wings spread, she was held aloft between heaven and earth, a
simplicity so complicated she could not comprehend. Her vision was keen, a
darting red herring, a small ugly octopus, creatures far below the waves she
perceived. The call of a lone bird took her attention, she watched as one
beat against the surf to raise itself into the air. She held herself in
place with a slight ease to the left catching a breeze. She thought of the
great progression of life, the heedless abandon of procreation, perhaps
love, and felt an ache in her chest. It was a deep throbbing that grew.
She had felt strange ever since her experience in the circle.

Unexpected, Eszka was seized with a pain, her wings clapping against her
sides as she fell from the sky. Hitting the ocean, her wings immediately
bogging her down, she reached for what she thought was the surface. She
could not breathe! Panic set in at the edges of her mind, she tried to
struggle to the surface, but she couldnt. Her great dark wings dragged her
down, she was trapped, she searched through her silk black pouch, praying
she had a potion of underwater breathing, her fingers fumbled, her vision
started to gray. She clenched her eyes closed, starting to shake her head
back and forth, refusing to give in.

She could not hold her breath any longer, she exhaled harshly and sucked in
- air.




Writer: Eszka

Date Tue Jun 30 23:23:39 2015

To All Arkane Taggett Palquinn Zooey Shalrienne Crokus Brunn Fynix Zarina Azah Letholdus ( Imm rp )

Subject Dream Terrors: Part Two


She panted and blinked her eyes trying to orientate herself. She was in
the Hoard. She tried to move, yet could not. It was as if she was held
down by some invisible force. It was almost more frightening than the dream
her heart beat frantically within her chest. She struggled tried to catch
her breath, tried to cry out but nothing and suddenly she was back in the
dream and she was drowning. The ocean coughed her up on to a sandy beach,
she knew it. Tropica, and she gasped in air, looking up with a sinking
feeling in the pit of her stomach. She did not want to be here. She did
not want to be here at all. She cried out as she was lofted through the
air, not by her own volition. Her eyes closed against the assault. An
acrid smell filled her senses, heat blazed against her. She stopped, held
in the air before her parents village, her village once upon a moon. She
struggled against the bind, but All she accomplished was being able to still
breathe.

The heat was intense and she felt her feathers curl with singe. She
collapsed against the hold, exhausted, her breathing ragged, smoke clogging
her senses.

El rah enaiam?

Her dark indigo gaze turned to the voices, the insistent voices, voices.
Her pulse banged in her head and she arched her baack against the hold,
crying out. This was not real! This could not be real. She felt tangle in
the arms of a nightmare, yet she could not wake up.

She watched her parents flame bright and burn, the villagers die, scatter
and felt her heart break All over. She writhed against the presence that
held her in this scene. She wept and went limp, broken under the memory she
so wished to bury.

Wake. Up.




Writer: Anathaelynn

Date Wed Jul 1 00:50:35 2015




Writer: Taggett

Date Wed Jul 1 01:43:49 2015

To All Vitriosablet Euterah Palquinn Dragon Arkane Imm *RP*

Subject The Great Black



Perhaps it was the lack of sleep since the ritual to wake Palquinn had
been performed, but she looked to the muddy bottom of her kimono she truly
question how shed become so foolish. Taggett Silverwolfe has spent the last
few months searching for her best friend in the whole world. One of her
searches had brought her to Darkonin, it was there she first came in contact
with a black cat, a familiar. It had been hard to remember its name at the
time, but it could not be mistaken that at one time this animal, if it
really could be called one. Had once been the same familiar she had been
linked so close to.

The marsh, she wasnt sure she had ever seen such a place, for sure not on
Icewall. Shadow, that was the name of once magical partner. The black cat
slinked ahead of the young Life Mage. Shed made the creature promise her
intentions were not of wicked intent. If only shed thought to realize it
had been hundreds of years since the two of them had been linked. It had
grown in its powers as she had herself. Making it promise on the first
Witch, didnt seem to have the power it once did...

It was the vitriolic stench that should have been her first tip something
was going horribly wrong. She was familiar with the ogre language as there
were few in Algoron she didnt have a grasp on. The walls of the cavern that
began to bring them down into the earth was marked with drawings, and ogrish
symbols for death, disease, strength, courage. Only the glow of a huge pool
of acid created an ominous mood to the dark confines. There was something
alive down here. Much larger then the Ogre she was told she was going to
see. This creature was familiar as well, it was The Great Black Dragon, she
had never learned its name.

Vitriosablet, had made a deal with the black cat, to bring Taggett to its
lair. Its epic size more frightening then she had remembered in the wide
open world of The Vale. Part of her knew this day would come. Giving the
beast a riddle in exchange for Palquinn would only be the start. At least
until the black scaled monster grew bored of her. Then she would join the
trolls he boasted of just eating.

She only was able to take away small details of what the favor had been by
the dragon for the cat. Poison gourds. She filed the detail away, along
with the memory of seeing Shadows new master. A goblin witch of Darkonin.
For now she tried to be as interesting and mysterious at the same time as
she could for the dragon. Along with peaking his interest for future
reference should he grow bored with the familiar. What would it taste like
to eat one of these animals? Taggett knew better, he promised her safety,
still she made a prayer to Kantilles. Taggett silently cursed that if
anyone should take a fancy to her it had to be an evil swamp dragon, instead
of the dazzling handsome God of White Magic. She focused, now was not time
to think about her crush.

She gave the dragon what he wanted, information about the familiar. Putting
as much doubt in his mind about what appeared nothing more then a black cat.
He grew restless bored, as something so old tended to do. Content with the
information shed supplied she was excused. The visit perplexed Taggett,
what had she really been brought there for. He seemed so curious about her,
even more then that. Something in his wording, how different his life would
be with her?

She let night take hold of her, bringing about a spell she rarely called
upon. It was late, a black aura bleeding around her body. You will forget
my name
She narrowed her mute green eyes at the cat. The familiar reminded
her of no longer having power over it. Taggett knew she didnt need power
over it. She revoked her name, there were some rules even ancient familiars
had to follow. Soon it wouldnt even be able to remember her name. She
would disappear from the layers of other witchs it had served.





Writer: Plutarch

Date Wed Jul 1 14:45:37 2015

To All with a Taste for Blood Bloodlust Drakkara Rp Imm

Subject The Hunt for the Most Bloodshed



"From the minute we take our first breath away from our mother's breast, we are
held firmly within the finality of Lord Fatale's grip!" hollered a street-priest
in the streets of Verminasia. He was dressed in the burgungy robes of a Fatalite
and his face was a strained mixture of excitement and crazy.

"The moment we first live, is the moment we also first realize our own deaths,"
shouted another man, a believer of the God of Murder, in the crowd watched over
by the priest. The crowd murmured in agreement, while some broke away from the
gathering to continue their business in the Dark City.

"But none has down our Lord more service than the Agents of Chaos, who have not
only slain mortals, but have also unlocked new possibilities.. they can pursue
the deaths of the very Gods, themselves!" bellowed the street-priest. A few in
the audience ceased their chattering, as the very thought of murdering the Gods
left the taste of bitter taboo in mouths of many.

The Priesthood of Fatale had always been a strange clergy who revelled in the
prospect of bloodshed and murder. Their church shared a unique relationship with
those of Zandreya, as it is believed that the Circle of Mortality is one that
begins with Goddess Zandreya and ends with the Cloaked Man, the God Fatale. The
men and women of Fatale are a sinister lot who revel in death, and just like in
the relationship of Zandreya and Fatale, so did Fatalites share a strange rela-
tionship with Chaos: the only group in known history capable of slaying the Gods
themselves. Naturally, the other churches fear and loathe Chaos. However, the
Church of Fatale found new ways to celebrate death with the passing of the Gods
Turpa and Kadiya.

"Through Chaos, our Lord will open the gates of Oblivion for the churches of the
light! As Malachive and his General Erebaal soak the realm in the blood of the
Gods of Good, our Master will welcome them with cold indifference! We are taught
that death welcomes All with eyes of indifference before the gates, but even the
Hells themselves will clatter with excitement as Austinian one day passes thru!"

The crowd erupted with a chaotic mixture of cheers, jeers and bellowing as the
townspeople argued their disagreement with using Malachive, while the others did
their part in making noise to hail their agreement. Among the crowd through was
an ariel with a wide grin on his face and a crazed twinkle in his amethyst eyes.

The blood of the Gods themselves.. what a treasure, he thought to himself.




Writer: Shalrienne

Date Wed Jul 1 18:08:00 2015




Writer: Thaydius

Date Wed Jul 1 18:31:57 2015

To All Elynsynos ( Religion Siccara Imm )

Subject A Rose Of Pure Ice



A great span of mountains stretched over the Western Reaches of Icewall.
Some of them, particularly those closer to the South, were dotted with life
or home to settlements. But some were quite barren, frozen over and whipped
by constant winds. Thaydius had been going to those peaks to meditate or be
alone for years.

A great deal of constant effort went into suppressing the vibrance of his
natural aura. In solitude, Thaydius could devote his power and control to
external forces rather than fit into the world around him. But in general,
he didn't seek power. That behind the strength of his will he kept a deluge
of magic that could flood and destroy a lot of the world was always a
factor. It made some mortals fear him. He so thoroughly disliked being
feared.

In the heart of a glow that would extend for miles, Thaydius was drawing
power from the White Moon. His luminescence had grown to ten times his size
and the physical vessel that carried his divine soul was distorted,
stretching out toward the sky, its source. The giant's endless eyes cracked
open, revealing the fragments of his immortal core, studying the work within
his infinite grasp with scrutiny. After all, the recipient of this gift
wished for a piece of him to be placed within it.

Reaching into his aura and using it to craft this particular sculpture would
print his essence in All the magic it contained. Every tiny fragment of the
rose was built from millions of bits pressing together which were then
frozen so cold that nothing but a god or goddess would ever turn this ice to
water. He daintily held the artifact between his fingertips, letting the
nova he had created start to calm. With a quick whisper, he decided to
regard the object with the sense to perceive magic. It was a bit bright,
honestly. But he figured a big, bright lady could handle.




Writer: Boof

Date Wed Jul 1 21:30:08 2015

To All Darkonin ( Devion Imm Rp Sunny )

Subject (Killing Him with Kindness)


Tubar Spiritfist hated his life. Tubar was a hill dwarf of a prestigious
bloodline in Thaxanos. He was very rich, and his youth in the Nuexpar had
been very kind to him. But now? His life was terrible.

First of all, he was short. Now that's not terribly surprising as Tubar is
a hill dwarf, All dwarves are relatively short compared to humans and elves.
But, Tubar was scarcely three and a half feet tall. For years he was unable
to join the Baewar's elite Kuldjargh because, his axes drug the ground when
he attempted the killing Rage.

Tubar -hated- his height, but he would live. His next source of disgust was
his beard. It too was short, and not for lack of trying. He had done
everything he could think to grow a long and luxurious beard like that of
his father, Tufar. Nothing worked. Not bat guano, not elf blood, not
dipping it whiskey, not rubbing it with grease. None of it worked. And so,
he was resigned to hate his life and his pathetically short beard.

At least he was rich is what most would have said. But no, this was not the
case. In his youth Tubar had done well for himself this is true.
Unfortunately what little he hadn't pissed away gambling was now far away in
Thaxanos and unable to be accessed.

His life is very sad, and there is good reason for him to be so maligned
about the world at large. Mencius was his only respite. It allowed him to
direct his rage, to use it however he wished. This rage had saved his life
many times, and was the reason for his wealth back in Thaxanos.

It was a double edged blade though, as it was the source of his most current
and greatest discontent.

Slavery.

Tubar Spiritfist, follower of Mencius, member of the Nuexpar, and renowned
for his evil and underhanded talent at gaining coin was a slave. And not
just any slave. He was the favorite slave of his worthless master, the
Devionite Priest, Boof Rog.

From Tubar's perspective, Boof, was a moron. His intelligence was
definitely lacking, and his cowardice knew no bounds. But somehow, through
Devion, Boof always managed to land on his feet. Even after he had his hand
cut off, Boof remained terribly happy about the state of things.

His master's happiness resulted in much affection that Tubar hated more than
anything. Tubar wasn't just a slave, he was much closer to being a pet.
And there was nothing he could do about it. The much larger and luckier
Boof -loved- Tubar, and made sure to let Tubar know on a daily ba sis.

Boof would preen and poke the poor dwarf. Cackling wildly at his disgust
and hatred of being touched. But Boof's favorite thing to do was to hug
Tubar, very very hard. Boof knew how much the smaller dwarf hated this, and
greatly enjoyed it when Tubar writhed and cursed.


(TBC!!!)




Writer: Fynix

Date Fri Jul 3 01:16:50 2015

To All Arkane Taggett Palquinn Zooey Shalrienne Crokus Brunn Lothaw Eszka Zarina Azah Letholdus ( Imm RP )

Subject |A| Dream Terrors |A|


A cool breeze caressed his face as he floated on the clouds drifted past
underneath. Floating on the air as it passed underneath his golden
wingspan, Fynix was free to watch Algoron pass below him. He smiles as he
watched kingdoms and peoples blissfully unaware of his presence overhead.

A cloudbank obscured his vision, and the Great Forest came into view.
Smiling, he angled lower, the great trees zooming up to meet him as he
angled his way between them, racing the wind as he dove in and out between
the trees.

This All seemed familiar somehow, but Fynix couldn't quite place his finger
on why it was so.

Then there was singing. A womans voice, soft and lilting. He spotted a
forest grove coming up, and knew a pool was to be found there. Ever
delighted to find a chance to meet someone new, he angled himself around for
a better view... Catching a sight of a woman's silhouette, hip deep in the
cool waters. A pair of iridescent wings unfurled behind her shoulderblades
as she bathed in the waters, and Fynix grinned in delight at the prospect of
meeting her...

Suddenly, joltingly, he remembered why this seemed so familiar. This had
happened before... His head snapped up, but like before, he wasn't int ime
to correct his flight path before he slammed hard into a tree branch,
clipping his wing and sending him tumbling...

... Tumbling to the ground beside the bed, the agony jolting him awake
instantly as he gave a yelp of pain. His broken wing hung at an unnatural
angle behind his back as the healers moved swiftly to mend his injury, the
mages talking about how 'it was still here' and 'it was attacking them in
their dreams' but right now Fynix could not even think through the white-hot
pain.




Writer: Lothaw

Date Fri Jul 3 01:30:13 2015

To All Arkane Taggett Palquinn Zooey Shalrienne Crokus Brunn Fynix Eszka Zarina Azah Letholdus ( Imm RP Zandreya )

Subject Awakening from the Nightmare



Lothaw Katel never in his life imagined he would be in Fynixs bedroom and
by the Blessed Mother, he did indeed see the unnatural there. Only his
trusted friend Zooey would ever have gotten him in there. Though it was
hardly what he had expected. The dream horrors that Eszka, Fynix, Zooey,
Taggett among others had been experiencing were quite out of his range of
experience, yet he had studied such things when he was younger. The high
pitched screams of the two ariels were still echoing through his ears, even
after he had healed the physical injuries this unnatural malady had
inflicted upon the two of them.

Working quickly, the dark elven cleric dug through his satchel to produce a
few basic materials. Lothaw hastily sprinkled holy water across the room,
making sure to splash everyone lightly at least once. Then he drew a
protective barrier in a salt trail around the bed. He filled in the circle
with appropriate symbols of healing and lit both candles and incense,
offering a bit of fresh air to the room after everyone had been perspiring
in horror at what had happened in it.

Finally Lothaw knelt and said the appropriate prayers, both to protect those
in the room and heal the spirits of those inside of any injuries. This
unnatural dream demon had already frightened the dark elf from his brief
second hand encounter, and he was certain that if any god would hear a
prayer regarding this it would be Mother Zandreya. Lothaw was also worried
that by proximity he may soon see these horrors first hand.




Writer: Zooey

Date Fri Jul 3 02:24:10 2015

To All Arkane Taggett Palquinn Shalrienne Crokus Bruun Fynix Lothaw (Imm RP)

Subject The Beast Within: Part One


The blackness which surrounded her was tangible, enveloping her like a syrupy
shroud of emptiness. There was nothing where she was, only her own body - suspended
in the darkness, floating motionlessly in its depths.

Zooey looked around herself in frightened confusion - unable to how she'd come
to be here or where she'd just been. The silence of the place so bleak that
her own heart pounded in her ears like a war drum, its beat rising in tempo with
every second.

A flash of movement to her left caught her attention and her eyes darted to follow
it. The mere act of moving her head was agonizingly difficult. It was as though All
of her strength had left her - her body loathe to obey her commands.

She recognized the woman who stepped toward her immediately. She'd seen her during
the ritual to retrieve Palquinn's soul from the Realm of the Dead, the woman who had
claimed to be her mother. Standing on nothing yet appearing somehow grounded - the
vision before her seemed to move just fine, uninhibited in the way which Zooey found
herself. Her mother offered a warm smile, hands clasped behind her back. She opened
her mouth to speak, but it was as though Zooey had gone deaf - for no sound came forth.

Zooey frowned - or at least thought she did, her eyes fixated on the mute women moving
her lips animatedly, a cheerful expression on her features. So focused was she that
she almost did not see the man step out from the darkness to her right. With great effort,
she again turned her head, inhaling a sharp breath at the sight before her.

The man who she'd been told was her father approached her, eyes black as the darkness
around her. Snaked around his arms, holding the man possessively against his chest,
was the black creature - covered in inky, sharp spines and scales, his mouth nothing but
a gaping circular maw with an endless spiral of sharp teeth. When he opened it - Zooey's
mind was flooded with the sounds of children screaming in terror. She snapped her eyes
shut as though to somehow drown out the horrific shrieking, a serpentine whisper lacing
the edges of her thoughts. "You know what you are. And you know what you're becoming."




Writer: Taggett

Date Fri Jul 3 02:31:44 2015

To All Arkane Lothaw Zooey Bruun Crokus Synri Eszka Fynix Palquinn Imm *RP*

Subject Dreaming of Your Death


A smile crept across the coral lips of Taggett Silverwolfe. Sitting at
the end of Fynixs four post bed. A laugh suddenly breaking the silence of
the otherwise empty room. A look of startled surprise passing over the
girls face as she clasped both of her gloved hands over her chest. A panic
starting in a tingle from the center of her gut. Broken glass covered most
of the room, the bed she was sitting on, the floors, most likely even the
bubbling hot tub. The doors that had once exited to the balcony had now
been crumbled All across the floor.

What are you? The Life Mage looked to the ground in front of her as if
seeing something that wasnt there, her mute green eyes standing still in a
perplexed questioning. Everything that night had been a wash, screaming,
pain. Eszka had been hurt, Fynix wing broken? Zooey something was wrong
with her arm. Who was this Synri? A fog was hanging in her mind, the
moments of the evening mixed up, a realization troubled the Taggett. Had
she been awake the whole time?

Standing she knelt to the faded trail of magic that lingered in the air.
Whatever it was, what they knew was that it wasnt from the beyond the grave.
It could have come from her trip into The Vale. Everything else was
horrible mystery. Split up? Why had she told Bruun to make everyone split
up? Had she really told him that?

Walking around the room, she paused at a mirror. Her eyes looked so tired
she wondered how long she had looked like this. Running a hand to groom of
one her frost colored buns, how long had she looked like this. Like a
sixteen year old girl? She thought of Zooey who had Crokus, Bruun and his
wife. Eszka even had Fynix.

Youll die with your stupid kender. Her reflections lips moved and it
caused Taggett to take a couple steps back. Sleep was hanging in her eyes,
had she grown so tired that she could nod off from time to time just
standing in place. Rubbing her eyes, she turned back to the room and nearly
went faint looking to the hot tub. Glowing a soft white was Lothow shed
only met the dark elf this very night. He was in the bubbling hot tub up to
his bare chest.

Wont you join me? The image of the dark elf beckoned her closer. There
was a warmth, in the embrace, in the water. She could finally just relax,
she could just, sleep.

Warmth, the feeling washed over her whole body, there was such a comfort
through her mind. There was no struggle as you would imagine, not like
this. Not with him holding her down under the water. It was so peaceful.
A burping of the bubbles splashed wide as Taggett pulled her wet sleeve from
the bottom of the hot tub. Dragging herself from the water, her eyes
frantic, she was very much actually soaked through. The tingle of sleep
gone, her body was electric.

Looking around the room one last time, the Life Mage walked to the balcony
looking back inside the room. Something dark hung from the ceiling. Even
if what was haunting them left when the person wakes. It left a very dark
shadow in its wake. What happen here this night, the misery it had created,
had tainted this place. Whispering a spell she lifted into the air, her
hair tangled and dripping still. She needed to figure out what it was, or
all of Arkane might never sleep again..




Writer: Zooey

Date Fri Jul 3 02:39:33 2015

To All Arkane Taggett Palquinn Shalrienne Crokus Bruun Fynix Lothaw (Imm RP)

Subject The Beast Within: Part Two


Consciousness flooded Zooey as she sat bolt upright in bed, a thin sheen of sweat covering
her body. The screams - oh god, the screams were still there ...but they were coming from
her own throat. Her voice finally broke, descending into low wails and pants as she struggled
to catch her breath. She became aware of Crokus, his arms around her, whispering comfortingly
to his wife, trying to calm her terror.

She sank against him and sobbed, feeling more exhausted than she had when she'd fallen asleep.
It was the fourth night in a row that she'd had the same dream. Always the same. Her mother,
then her father, then the thing possessing him telling her what she was. ...but what was she?

Once he'd managed to calm her she pulled herself from the bed and stepped out onto the balcony,
her arms wrapped around her body protectively.

She'd never known her parents - she'd been found as a baby in the gardens of the Althainian
Castle and raised in the nearest orphanage, the way that far too many children were. She'd
wondered at times, of course, who had abandoned her - where she'd come from, but she'd usually
been too busy with her current life to worry too much about the one which could have been.

Glancing behind her, she stared at Crokus for a few minutes - completely silent, ensuring that
he was asleep. Turning her body toward the lighted room, she pulled down the shoulder of her
gown as her anxiety flooded her, making the world spin.

The patch on her arm had gotten bigger after that dream - just as it had after the one before.
Half of her upper left arm was now covered in gleaming, black scales each edged in a metallic
strip of blood red. A thin, flexible spine, each barbed, protruded from between each one. She
straightened her arm, the spines lying flat against her upper arm, standing straight outward as
she flexed her bicep.

Her heart raced as she looked at her arm. She'd come to the awful place of knowing that she should
tell someone what was happening to her but having waited so long that she'd let the fear of anyone
discovering her overwhelm her completely. Closing her eyes, she calmed herself with great effort,
pulling her gown back up around her shoulder and lowering her eyes. She knew that she couldn't hide
it forever. Sooner or later someone was going to notice what she was being consumed by - what she
was becoming.




Writer: Synri

Date Fri Jul 3 10:02:44 2015

To All Arkane Lothaw Zooey Bruun Taggett Palquinn Fynix Eszka Crokus ( Imm RP )

Subject - Horrible Night Terror -


Sitting in the Amphitheatre of White Magicks, Synri was watching over
Eszka and Fynix. Her mind drifted back to the scene that had literally been
imprinted and not likely to go away anytime soon. Seeing the glass on the
floor, the terror in Eszka's eyes, Fynix on the floor in agony (Of course,
her first thought was someone kicked him in a not so.. Good place.) , The
rest of the people in the room. She would have laughed, if it were a
comical scene because she was definitely surprised and startled upon
entering the room, but it was serious and no laughing matter, which made her
features turn to concern as well as wary and scared. Something serious had
happened. Very serious.

As she leaned back on a pillow, Synri stared out into the night, her eyes
straying to the stars above. Folding her arms into a relaxed pose, she
glanced over at her friends. Both were asleep again. Her own eyes were
starting to droop before she gave her head a vigorous shake. She had to
stay awake, she just had to. But sleep was soon was overwhelming her and
eventually it had won. And that was a mistake in and of itself.

It was like going back in time, reliving the horrible nightmare she
desperately tried to forget. There was blood... Everywhere. The stench of
it so strong, it would make one's stomach roil. She watched her younger
self, trying desperately to wake her parents, yet they were already long
gone. The girl looked up, her tear-filled eyes wide with fear as the shadow
of a being came nearer and nearer, a weapon of some dark energy held in its
hand. It had spoke, the voice raspy and cold as ice, saying she would fetch
a pretty price. Synri tried to call out to her younger self, screaming for
her to run, to get out. No sound was heard as she watched in horror as her
smaller self was picked up like nothing....

Flashing to the present time, she was running, her heart pounding in her
chest as she dashed through the forest, trying to get to the safety of the
kingdom. The young woman glanced back over her shoulder, that same shadow
figure from her childhood nearly almost upon her, reaching out to try and
grab hold of her as its sinister laughter was heard, close to her ear. And
that's when she felt the sharp pain in her side, the scream of terror and
pain jostling her awake, coming from her own throat as she holds her side.
There, as plain as day, are what seem to be five claw marks on her skin,
each bleeding and turning her gown red.

Just what on Algoron was going on?




Writer: Lothaw

Date Fri Jul 3 12:07:17 2015

To All Arkane Taggett Zooey Bruun Crokus Synri Eszka Fynix Palquinn ( Imm rp Zandreya )

Subject The Sands of Time



It was an experience of horror for Lothaw Katel. How he couldnt say but
somehow he was trapped inside a glass cage. Yet despite All his best
efforts he couldnt break free from his conical prison. There was nothing
surrounding his prison but darkness and the curious thing was, there was an
inversed glass cone immediately above him. Then the dark elfs eyes widened
when he saw someone else trapped inside that one. It was his wife Kaerlia,
whom he had barely seen at All for the last several years and whom he missed
dearly. So close to see, yet too far to touch. What sort of strange
nightmarish prison was this?

Then the image of Kaerlia was gone and falling from a small hole from the
cone above was sand. Dry and coarse. It was then Lothaw realized this was
no prison, but an hour glass. They said time flows in one direction, memory
in another. Soon enough the sand falling from above was no longer an
inconvenience, but a dire threat as it started to bury him. With desperate
effort Lothaw tried to claw his way up and towards the opening the sand was
falling through, but with each moment it seemed like he was further away
despite his effort. As if time was literally hammering him into the ground.
Lothaws cries to get Kaerlias attention went unheard and soon were muffled
altogether by the sand as it started to rise over the dark elfs head.

With a start the dark elf cleric sat up, drenched in sweat in his home. His
bed was empty, no sign of Kaerlia and the house was quiet, dark and empty.
Exhaling deeply several times, Lothaw rose to get some water and realized he
ached All over. Though the truly scary moment came when he light a candle
and discovered why he ached All over. His skin was chaffed and raw and
covered with scratches. Almost as if it had been rubbed raw by a large
amount of sand. By the Blessed Mother what in the world was happening?




Writer: Eszka

Date Fri Jul 3 18:18:06 2015

To All Arkane Taggett Palquinn Zooey Shalrienne Crokus Brunn Lothaw Zarina Azah Letholdus ( Imm rp )

Subject Dream Terrors Part 3


She had not even realized she had fallen asleep again, so warm and held,
snuggled into familiar smell, feathers. She was walking somewhere and then
it came to her, she did not know how she had arrived there. She looked
around trying to get her bearings. It seemed like a place she should know,
but the sounds were All discord. Screeches, howls, hoots, growling noises
these were not making her feel any better about the place she was in. There
were trees All around, tall, so tall she could barely make out the canopy.
It was dark, but a cloying dark, a dark that would not recede. She sang the
words and notes and a torch appeared. She grasped it. She felt suddenly
very alone and very frightened.

She continued walking, the noises setting her nerves on edge. She felt the
back of neck prickle. She kept turning around, thinking someone was
watching her, waiting for her. It was like before in the dreaming, a
something or someone just beyond her field of vision. She could sense its
presence, but it was evasive. She was not a strong enough mage to see.

She trembled, squeaking a little whimper, there was nowhere to go except
that which led down the path into the dark deep wood. She kept to the path,
the noises startling her, turning and twisting every which way to try to
keep from being ambushed. She felt pursued, tracked down, chased. The path
came to an abrupt end and a clearing was before her. As she raised her eyes
her strength was gone completely, fixed to the trunk of the tree was a
figure. She did not was to see it she wanted to escape, fly away. But her
feet and wings would not obey her and she was compelled forward until she
was not four feet from the tree, looking up.

She cried out, a low anguished sound, her heart wrenched from her body and
she reached up. Oh no, how could this be? She dropped her torch numbly.
She reached out to the touch the feet of the figure, stiff and cold under
her fingers. She could not keep the tears from blurring her vision, a lone
lock of gold over the wasted, decrepit figures head, body nailed to the
tree. All her connections shattered and she fell to her knees and wept.

It was All for naught, a struggle, nothing to anchor to, nothing to keep her
from going adrift. A brightness flickered within her vision, she tried to
catch her breath. She was surrounded by fire, torches, she looked for her
own on the ground, but did not find it. She tried to draw her dagger, but
found she had none. The fire enclosed on her and through her terror she
heard voices.

You did this. You murdered him. He rots because of you. Your parents.
Your fault. Gone because of you. Give up. Give up. Go to sleep and be no
more.


Be no more. You are nothing. Grist for the mill. Nothing. Less than
nothing. Ruin follows you.

She could not wake.




Writer: Thzad

Date Sat Jul 4 23:40:15 2015

To All IMM

Subject The Wargarian War Council



The Thane spoke to All assembled "Ye sure this bae what ye want?"

All heads and beards nodded in agreement save one white clothed dwarf
holding the crest of his nose and shaking his head.

The Thane paused and then spoke gravely "The aye's have et. Ah'll send tha
missive then."


The dwarves assembled cheered and pounded their stein's on the table in the
War Council room in celebration. As they did so the Thane rose from his
seat at the head of the table and stepped into his Throne Room.

The white clothed dwarf appeared in the doorway of the Thane's Throne Room,
"Ah word, Thane?"

"Aye, Lord Mountain Fardoc, come on en lad"

Fardoc Galehammer, the previous Thane, walked in and stood respectfully
before the Throne set into the living stone of the wall of the chamber. "In
all due respect, Thane, ye must know this bae folly, aye?"


Thzad drank from his stein and grumbled, sitting down on the Throne.

Fardoc continued "We war tha mages, now we war tha Knights. What shall we
do when we've burnt every bridge and have no allies left at all? Ah don't
want tah lecture ye, just think you could use some cooler council before you
send that missive off to Gareth"


The Thane nods and continues to sip his stein


Fardoc pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a deep breath. "Ah'll
support ye lad, as always, ye been me friend for years, but Ah implore ye,
think this over. Sometimes the job of ah good Thane is to restrain our lads
instead of giving em what they want."


The Thane took another sip from his stein and simply nodded.

With that, Fardoc nodded and let himself out of the Throne room. Thzad
stayed sitting on his throne, sipping his stein. When his stein was empty
he stood up and went down deeper into the hall to Carlsbad Tavern.

As the Thane went down deeper into the halls of Wargar through the Pantheon
dwarves cheered and yelled out to him. A great celebration was taking place
as news of the War Council's decision spread from dwarf to dwarf. Julthax
and Brollo were arm-wrestling on one of the pews and yelled out WARGAR!
When the Thane walked past, and the whole room took up the chorus. The
Thane nodded in his perpetually grumpy way and headed up to the Tavern where
dwarves would eat, drink and fight in no particular order. A dwarf tending
the bar nodded to Thzad and said "Hail, Thane! Tha usual?" Thzad nodded
and handed a missive to the bartender "Make et ah double. And see this goes
out to the Generals of Gareth's Keep with tha next rider."
The bartender
took the note and promptly shuffled off to deal with other customers and
avoid the Thane's ire. He could tell the Thane was in a mood.

Thzad stared into his stein and muttered to himself. Well, he thought, it
is done. And he prayed to Raije under his breath for wisdom in the trials
to come.




Writer: Niantha

Date Sun Jul 5 20:18:24 2015

To All arkane imm RP

Subject Defenseless



She couldn't take it. She had to do something.

Niantha walked east out of the city, trying to escape... Something. She
wasn't sure what to call it. She was pretty sure it wouldn't matter, it'd
follow her wherever she went. But she couldn't just sit around the Haven
anymore, suffering everyone who passed her who asked her how her task was
going in silence anymore. Every time one of them said something to her it
was like a dagger driven into her pride, reminding her of how much she
couldn't do without her magic. She'd had enough of it, so she was going to
go hide for the rest of her trial. Five days without magic had sounded like
such a trivial thing at first, but here she was, only midway through the
third day, and she was on the verge of breaking. Sheer force of will alone
kept her from casting a cantrip to amuse herself, to feel... SOMETHING
where that void was. She was a creature born and raised on magic. She'd
learned to cast spells at such an early age that she didn't remember a time
that she couldn't control the Art to some extent or another. This feeling
was entirely foreign to her. It was as if she'd lost a part of herself, and
though she knew it was only a few more days that she had to endure, each
minute seemed an hour.

She found herself walking through the Glassrose Mansion, a place she'd come
to love since she moved to Arkane. The beauty of the sun as it came through
the glass and filtered into myriad colors and cast both light and shadow all
over hadn't been understated by her sister, and she spent most of her
"alone" time here. Not that the word alone was appropriate, because the
mansion was populated by guests, and an unfortunate one happened across
Niantha now, pushing through the glass door without noticing Niantha sitting
against the wall and bumping her foot painfully. Niantha stood, eyes
narrowing, and drew her dagger. At last, she'd found a distraction. Nobody
would notice this guest disappearing amongst All the others, not in this
place, and the guest knew it too. Her face paled and she screamed, pushing
back against one of the walls, looking for some secret route through the
glass, but finding none.

And then Niantha felt it. The tingle of magic, through the hilt of her
dagger. She hadn't drawn the weapon when she'd gotten rid of All of her
other magical trappings in preparation for the task, but it was imbued with
life-stealing powers and certainly qualified as magical. Worse, Niantha
hadn't brought any other weapons. Without her dagger, she couldn't kill her
victim. With a growl, she threw the thing across the room and it shattered
a hole through the glass wall, skittering away into another room and beyond
her reach. She immediately realized her error, and turned wide-eyed to
regard the guest, who regarded her curiously.

And then the guest's lips quirked up into a sadistic smile.

It was Niantha's turn to scream.




Writer: Niantha

Date Sun Jul 5 20:24:08 2015

To All arkane imm RP

Subject Flames...



She dragged herself down the path, but her strength finally failed her
and she collapsed into a ditch off the side of the road, mercifully shielded
from both passerby and the weather. She didn't want anyone to see her like
this. She'd barely made it out alive, for when the guest realized that
Niantha was defenseless she'd turned on her and assaulted her with a fury
that would have matched Niantha's own. Her clothes were ripped and dirty,
both with mud from the road and her own blood, and she'd lost a slipper
somewhere along the way. She was covered in bruises and cuts, including one
deep stab wound in her side just above her hip where the guest had grabbed a
shard of glass and stabbed her just before she'd managed to find an exit to
the mansion and flee to safety. One eye was swollen almost shut, and her
lip was split open from the multiple kicks she'd taken to the face once she
was down. And she was pretty sure that her right arm was broken, for it
hung uselessly and painfully at her side. She reached over with her left
arm, inspecting the wound in her side, and grimaced. She was skilled enough
in the art of torture to know a mortal wound when she felt one, and this one
certainly was unless she did something about it. But there was only one
thing she knew of that could seal it, aside from her magic... And as
stubborn and prideful as she was she was NOT about to fail now.

*Click. Click. Click. * The sound of flint and steel.

*FWOOOSH* A torch roaring to life.

And then the sound of her own agonizing scream cutting through the night as
she cauterized the wound.




Writer: Krankle

Date Sun Jul 5 21:55:19 2015

To All

Subject My first experience with magick



My first experience with magic was when I was a small gnome. My father
was an inventor and always took the time to address my natural childhood
curiosities with long winded explanations on various topics, needs,
solutions, and methods of extending research. Because of this, I became
very good at figuring things out and manipulating situations to my
advantage.

Over time, I gained the reputation of being a little over confident when it
came to pretty much everything. This can be confirmed by any of my
siblings, but mostly that of my sister Trizzle.. Which really doesnt have
much to do with this story Anyway, one of our favorite games was a game
called tool pocket, which is a form of hide and seek. The main difference
is that the person that is the leader goes and hides and then everyone else
goes and tries to find them. Once they are found, the people join the
original hider and the last person to find everyone becomes the leader.

So there I was, cocky and full of youthful stupidity. I thought it was a
good idea to bet a whole opal that I could hide where no one could find me.
I even packed a lunch and two changes of clothes. Once everyone started
counting to 100, I took off to what I thought was the best hiding spot ever.
About a minute and a half later, was in the hidden cave I discovered under
the rocks near the north side of the pond.

Ten seconds after that I was standing in the spot where everyone was
counting. In addition to loosing an opal, I also gained a few tidbits of
knowledge. The first was to turn off summoning. The second was to hide in
places that are not summoned able and where portals cannot be directed. I
took many weeks of jesting over this experience. I still do to some extent
when the family gets together.




Writer: Taggett

Date Sun Jul 5 22:43:36 2015

To All Arkane Zooey Lothaw Bruun Crokus Synri Eszka Fynix Palquinn Imm *RP*

Subject Deadly Dreaming


Taggett hadn't slept in many days, the feeling was as being stuck in
quicksand. Her thoughts came in slow murmurs, like bubbles of tar bursting
from the earth. It was safer this way. When she did sleep, the nightmares
quickly washed over her in vivid terror. She liked the waking world better
anyway. Her best friend Palquinn was back in her life and it was like
stepping through time.

Candles flickered in the tranquil dim glow, across the book perched on the
floating disk before the Life Mage. If this had only been the first time in
her life that her gifts had caused such chaos. The sleepless night kept
reality slightly removed from Taggett, shed even completely missed passing
some of friends on the streets. Her mute green eyes drawn to the ground in
a perplexed daze. The library was empty besides for the white haired
teenage looking girl. It had to be nearly morning. She would be happy for
the sunlight, she was use to dark nights, having studied the way of
Necromancy.

Necromancy, it would take a lot to get the girl to admit no matter what
words she crafted, the basis for her knowledge. Reading the book on the
strange, the creatures of Algoron that could cause the nightmares plaguing
not only herself but many of Arkane. So many of the creatures fed off
death, and the section even spoke of legendary Necromancers that had ravaged
kingdoms, and families. She had to skip through much of it.

Lifting her gaze, she rubbed her tired mute eyes. The combination of dim
light, reading, and sleeplessness stung at her eyes. A couple of hairs
stood at the back of neck. A few tables from her a figure sat slumped in
shadows. It was the silhouette of an adult male, should could tell by the
shape of the shoulders, the close cut of hair, if they had any at all. As
she stood acting as if shed remembered needing a book from the shelves she
raised her candle enough to see if she could leverage a better view.

A cloak of deep blood red draped itself down over the face and shoulders of
the shadow. Not a single movement, no book positioned in front of him.
Taggett couldnt the strange clues that was causing her fear of the image.
His hands drawn down under the table, as she moved she could see the fabric
fold and follow her direction. With a quickening to her pace she made a
darting motion into the stack of books. Her candlelight drawing long
shadows through the tightly packed alleys of literature.

The sound of a heavy breathing grew in close, Taggett felt as if at any
moment something would leap from the shadows and it would drag her to her
death. Crouching low, she heard something move in the row next to her.
Blowing out the candle, shadows took her in its embrace. She knew she was
completely invisible in this light. She didnt dare look up the breathing
was right next to her. Something was standing right next to her. Opening
her eyes slowly, a gasp broke through the girls lips. A face decayed and
yet extremely strong, noble stared at her from just past the crimson cloak.
Looking right at her. Your All going to die. She was helpless as the
creatures long sharp finger tips flashed foward to grab her face.

A muffled gasp lifted Taggetts head from the book in front of her. A
droplet of blood falling from her coral lips to the book before her. The
page was turned to a creature that ate the tears of children, and had been
known to kill and mimic human childrens parents to eat and grow from their
prisoners. A frightening thought washed over her. If they couldnt figure
out what it was, the only thing they did know. Was where it had came from,
perhaps the only way to find out what shed brought back to Arkane was for
them to return to The Vale...




Writer: Drew

Date Mon Jul 6 09:38:28 2015




Writer: Fynix

Date Mon Jul 6 16:29:41 2015

To All Arkane Taggett Palquinn Zooey Shalrienne Crokus Brunn Lothaw Eszka Zarina Azah Letholdus ( Imm RP )

Subject |A| Waking Terrors |A|


After the nightmares first efforts to leave him crippled, Fynix seemed to
have been the lucky ones. It did not return a second night for a subsequent
attack. Perhaps
it found the muck and mire that was the inside of his mind
distasteful, as many had publically proclaimed his thoughts to be so many
times.


Still, the nightmare wasn't over yet for everyone. Fynix still saw many
with restless nights weighing heavily on their souls. Some were still being
tormented by bad dreams. Others were just
having restless nights thanks to
the very idea of the dream demon. A creature that could maim or kill in
your most vulnerable, unprotected state. It was more than a little
unnerving to say the least.


He was no great warrior, no powerful sorcerer, no wise priest, not even a
learned scholar... some might have even wondered just what Fynix was. Many
accused him of being nothing at All but a worthless layabout who did nothing
more than play pointless games and chase skirts. He still vividly recalled
the insults he had recieved from a band of ariel who called him a "disgrace
of their species" and worse

But right now people he cared for were in trouble. And he was going to do
everything he could to ensure they were alright.





Writer: Krazeth

Date Tue Jul 7 03:56:48 2015




Writer: Milleuda

Date Tue Jul 7 10:20:58 2015




Writer: Khorvash

Date Tue Jul 7 15:45:25 2015




Writer: Eszka

Date Tue Jul 7 16:42:32 2015

To All Arkane Taggett Palquin Zooey Shalrienne Crokus Brunn Fynix Zarina Azah Letholdus Synri ( Imm rp )

Subject Waking Dreams



Eszka came to consciousness suddenly, her breath catching in her throat
as she sat up. She whimpered and collapsed, she felt like a hundred pounds
were weighted to her limbs. Her entire being was sore as if she had been
tensing her muscles for days. She heard a noise, a scratch, scratch,
scratch, coming from the balcony and huddled further down in the pillows,
trying to become as quiet and still as she could, like a sparrow hiding in
the foliage of the enormous bed.

She heard the scratching again. It was like something was drawing against
the balconys floor. Claws is what she imagined, rending tearing claws and
she inhaled slowly, her heart was trying to make its way up her throat, she
imagined the thing outside could hear it. She burrowed further into the
bed, trying to make herself as small as possible, her wings flat against her
as if their dark cloak could protect her.

Her nightmares were reality. She felt her limbs uncurl and her frame rest
at the edge of the bed, great dark wings limp against her back. Her voice
said I am coming lover, but she did not want to speak the words. She did
not want to move. Her body was acting of its own volition again, was she
sleeping? Gods, she did not even know anymore, everything was a hazy,
dreamy blur.

She walked to the balcony and opened doors that had been recently fixed.
Her fingers were numb. She tried to turn back, yet could not. Her wings
spread and she rose into the sky, destination unknown. She tried to utter a
cry for help, a scream, some noise. She managed a clenched jaw and
headache.

She felt it again, the presence, that creature that held her with terror.
She felt the scraping dirty claws against her skin this time, a slavering
snuffle against her neck. She wanted to weep, but could not. Her strength
waned and she came to a crashing landing somewhere in the forests near
Arkane. She did not even know if she was yet in the world or in her own
mind.

The creature held her, caressed her dark curls and drank her horror, it was
growing stronger. It would use her up and go on to the next. She tried to
fight against it, but she felt so tired and weak. She lay back on the
forest floor and succumbed to the creatures need.




Writer: Eszka

Date Tue Jul 7 17:09:24 2015

To All Taggett Palquinn Zooey Shalrienne Crokus Fynix Synri Zarina Azah ( Imm rp )

Subject Waking Dreams



She came back to the place she had been called from, her indigo eyes
searched the room with an eerie violet glow. She was not herself and yet
she was. She saw no one in the room and tensed, they were here. They were
here somewhere and when she found them she would destroy them utterly. The
creature whined at her and she cringed against its sound, cradling it
against her breast like a newborn.

She needed blood, fresh and warm to feed the baby, her baby. Her glowing
violet eyes scanned the room. She moved to the door and opened it with a
banging sound. She looked down the hall. Too many doors, the creature
cried against her. She did not know what to do, she felt so lost. She
could not provide for her baby. She wept and offered herself to the
creature. It crawled up her to snuffle at the base of her throat then tore
with teeth into her pale flesh as she screamed. The floor of the hallway
splashed with her blood. She dropped to her knees and collapsed.




Writer: Lothaw

Date Tue Jul 7 20:00:31 2015

To All Arkane Taggett Zooey Eszka Fynix Crokus Brunn ( imm rp Zandreya )

Subject A Waking Nightmare



The mug of coffee sitting on the desk of Lothaw Katel has become a fairly
constant presence of late. The elvish cleric hadnt been sleeping well of
late at All to put it mildly. Coupled with the amount of time he had been
spending pining over old books from various sources, it was a wonder his
social skills were holding as well as they were. His normal calm composure
had been showing cracks aplenty these past few days.

He had taken to checking out and borrowing books from libraries in Arkane,
Althainia, Verminasia, and even Shalonesti and Thaxanos through third party
proxies. Pausing to take a sip of his coffee, he testily glared out his
balcony at the evening moons which didnt provide enough light for him to
read comfortably by. That many people were shrilly expecting him to provide
a solution to this dream problem, rather insistently despite the fact they
couldnt even tell him how it was caused in full was rather typical. He
didnt even make any claims to be able to stop this, in fact he was quite
persistent this wasnt his area of expertise, yet that didnt stop the
expectations laid on him. Sometimes he wish he could just lay his problems
at other peoples feet and expect them to fix them. A deep sigh was followed
by another sip of the potent mug of coffee.

Regardless, an obscure elvish text hinted at a solution he thought. A wild
elven text hinted at a victorious war against demons of dreams, mind and
darkness, though didnt provide much information beyond that. Regardless, he
had a lead to follow up on and hed do so. Packing his equipment, the same
gear he usually took with him on a hunting trip for the most part, except
for a large decanter of coffee, he left at once. No point in waiting for
the sun to come up as dawn wouldnt bring any relief.




Writer: Thaydius

Date Tue Jul 7 23:30:58 2015

To All Althainia Cassidy Araaduli ( Religion Siccara Imm )

Subject Help them



She had spoken of him to the Deacon. His heart had raced at hearing
about it. The thought was inspiring though he was mired in less than
favorable circumstances. For hours, Thaydius had been wandering through the
city and removing a plague from the people. It had even gone so far as to
form sores on his own body, tampering with the beauty that his mother had
given him. He wasn't immune to it, but it was too weak to cause him great
harm. He removed the sores, over and over, becoming desensitized to their
smell.

He toiled for so long in the presence of this sickness that eventually his
armor had gone sour from the pus and infection, prompting him to shed it in
a particularly remote place. But she had spoken of him to the Deacon. He
was supposed to help. So he did. The disease challenged even his might of
magic, taking sometimes two dozen words to remove from the sickly mortals,
but All in the name of Siccara. He watched healers and children devoted to
Siccara returning to try to find their energy, a task that he did not have
to partake in, but he admired their dedication. Everywhere he had gone, the
disease kept cropping up behind him. He would take ground only to have it
pushed back. This was the nature of the battle against suffering. He had
known it for most of his life.

But what the Angel said of him was true, his faith WAS absolute. And no
amount of sickness was going to come between him and his duty to his family.
So he kept on healing these people, shedding his armor down to rags and
healing them still as the nauseating scent of pus was smeared away by
berries and flowers that he rubbed over himself. His flesh constantly
healed itself against the sores, leaving only the ooze of what had tried to
tarnish his perfect form behind as he wiped it over through the night. The
look of appreciation in the eyes of the people as he healed them, that was
precious to him. Their strength returning. Their hope finding its place in
their heart.

He left his weapons behind, too. This wasn't the time for pointless
battles. And though he was determined to do something about this, it
continued to feel like there was something he was missing. His mother had
said he would help, but what exactly was he supposed to do? He could go on
doing this forever, but it wasn't going to stop this sickness. Just like
the last plague, with the corpses. At least this one wasn't killing people,
he felt good about that. He wasn't a god, after all. How much could one
child change the world?




Writer: Niantha

Date Wed Jul 8 10:47:24 2015

To All arkane imm RP

Subject Powerlessness, and power



*CRACK*

The sickening crunch of the rabbit's neck breaking both amused and horrified
Niantha. She'd only brought enough food for the one day she'd been
intending to stay in Glassrose Mansion, expecting that boredom would bring
her back to the city that evening, or possibly the following day. She
hadn't been expecting... This. But although she was no longer in imminent
danger of dying, if she didn't have sustenance of some sort, she would waste
away, and she knew that with the amount of blood she'd lost she wasn't
entirely out of danger yet. So she'd lain still, horribly still, until the
rabbit had come over to inspect the bit of clover she held in her hand, and
then grabbed its leg as it tried to bolt. The thing screamed, a
particularly shrill, terror-filled sound as she picked it up, clubbed it on
the ground a few times weakly to stun it, and then wringed its neck with her
one good working hand. It took an agonizingly long time for her to find the
purchase and strength to break its neck and kill it, and although it meant
she'd have something to eat for the day, she couldn't help but feel
horrified at the fact that this was the first thing she'd successfully
killed since her prohibition began. To think that a powerful spellcaster,
capable of warping the mind itself and calling up the destructive energies
of fire and lightning, would be reduced to this. Without her magic, she was
weak. She was defenseless. She was... Useless. But the meat of the
rabbit sated her hunger, and its blood helped toslaked her thirst a bit, and
she fell back into fitful, oft-interrupted sleep.

She didn't know how many times she'd awakened during the night because of
the pain. It was pitch black. There'd been no moonlight the previous
evening. She was out of torches, and her lantern had run out of oil long
ago. The blackness of sleep was the same as the blackness of awakening to
her. But eventually, her eyes drifted open through her exhaustion, and she
saw it. The light of the sun, breaking over the horizon.

The herald of the sixth day. It was over.

She let her willpower drop, allowed the full flow of her magic to flood
through her being, almost drunk with the feeling of power. A few words
whispered brought healing energies surging through her body, knitting the
bone of her arm and mending the numerous cuts and bruises, including the
wound in her side, dulling her pain. She rose to her feet, testing her
balance, and although she was still exhausted from the ordeal, she found
that she could walk with little trouble, could once again use her arm. She
made her way towards the temple of Siccara, then shook her head. She could
heal herself well enough, and although she'd likely forever bear the scar of
cauterization on her side, as her magic could not mend that, she was glad
for it, in a way. She didn't want All of her pain and suffering to go away
quite yet. She had business to attend to first.

She went back to Arkane, visited the weaponsmith, and bought the first,
nastiest looking dagger she could find.

It was that guest's turn to scream again. And with her magic restored, Nia
meant to make her death take a long, LONG time.




Writer: Leadero

Date Wed Jul 8 16:56:45 2015

To All Carrionmaw Liviya ( Imm RP Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Dream or Premonition..?



For nearly a week, the dream had come to him every night. Always the
same. Always as elusive in its purpose, or meaning. Always leaving him
with the same questions that had yet to be given an answer.

He stood upon a dark, barren plain. Though he was not himself. He was
inside the personage of another - one untroubled by the whipping winds that
howled and screeched, stirring up grit and sand. Though there was a thick,
dark, and shadowy fog that obscured almost everything, around him there was
some visibility. That was how he knew that the ground beneath his feet was
parched until it was cracked and devoid of any vegetation. That was also
how he saw the figures.

Totaling nine, though not counting whomever it was he inhabited, the figures
stood in a ring around him. Nearly the same size, though with small
variances in height or bulk, the figures were obsidian cloaks. The cloaks
obscured any features that might have given insight to gender, and their
drawn cowls hid their faces.

Though he knew it was coming, the deafening roar that filled his ears
heralded the quaking and startled him faintly. Or perhaps it was only the
figure which he watched the events through, because he felt disassociated
from the scene; as though he saw through the eyes of his landlord, but also
saw them as if floating nearby. With the loud roar, the landscape erupted
into violence.

A great shaking tore apart the world with enough force to rattle bone and
drawn a scream from the ground itself. Fissures tore free of the monotony,
spewing sand and scalding gases into the air. One of the fissures grew
large, a great, stony maw opening with jagged edges for razor sharp teeth.
Two of the cloaked figures were cast into the ravenous pit and vanished,
while a third was flung to the edge where fingers gripped onto the edge
until they turned white. The small point of contrast was hypnotizing
against the backdrop of horror and darkness.

Then, as if the terrible cries of the world were not enough, the sky was
sundered by a brilliant and blinding ray of light. It eradicated everything
- sound, sight - it was as though existence itself had come to an end.

The first thing to return to him was his sight, the dull pallet of the
dreamscape slowly coming back into focus. After blurry images began to take
focus, his ears began to pound as he heard the rush of his own blood; a
quiet cacophony in wake of the tremendous sound that had assaulted him so
recently.

It was then that he could see the smoldering ash where one of the figures
had been. Nothing was left beyond the ash, no trace of the robe, or a
skeleton to be found. While the remaining figures righted themselves, now
totaling a mere five if he did not consider himself, their eyes moved to the
same pile of debris. Before long, the wind swept through and then even the
ashes were blown away.

All that was left was the dark mists, the mutilated ground with a blackened
scorch mark, and the figures. Before he woke, the darkly clad beings
shifted, their obscured faces turning in his direction leaving him with the
crawling, shriveling sensation of pure evil tunneling through his veins.

When he did wake, after the fifth time of the dream assaulting him and
leaving him drenched in sweat, his gut churching with the need to act, he
knew exactly what needed to be done. He only wondered if he would be able
to do it, and if it was, in fact, a premonition or if he had simply become
the fixation of some creature bent on driving him mad. Either way, he had
things to do.




Writer: Thaydius

Date Wed Jul 8 22:06:53 2015

To All Cassidy Araaduli ( Religion Siccara Imm )

Subject Protect Them (1/2)



He had ventured out to the solitude of the peaceful glade, under the
image of his Mother dominating the colorless sky over the strange, shifting
dream. It was there that he made a stream and cleaned his things and
himself, wiping away the influence and debris created by the sickness. When
he was finished, he looked down at the contaminated water and froze it,
probably a hundred degrees colder than needed, but just to be safe. Then he
did the same thing with himself to kill anything left. After emerging from
the moment he spent encased in ice, he tilted his head back and regarded the
deliberately shaped stars and stared for a few moments.

The response of the others who were dedicated to his Mother had filled his
heart with hope. He was going to have to trust them today. Instead of
going to the major cities, he decided to make his way to dozens of
settlements falling outside of the vast, protective walls made around the
capital cities. There, people would have locked up the infected and prayed
earnestly, hoping to spare themselves from what was likely to slowly spread
outward to them. He knew that the temple clerics and famous healers would
start at the hearts of the cities, so he had to try to work from the other
end.

He went from town to town and eventually made his way from province to
province before his journey crossed the borders of one nation into another.
After several hours, he found himself grabbing onto the rifts of magic and
going across the ocean to see how things were progressing in and around
Arkane. In some cases, the villages were uninfected. He made certain to
speak to Elders and inform them of what was happening far and wide. And
when he came upon sickness, he did ... Well, what he was meant to do. He
was the Son of Siccara, after all.

Where he went, he took out a large piece of parchment and made a simple
symbol of Siccara, giving it a few magical words and pinning it at wherever
peasants would pass in these villages. He told the people what they could
do. He provided them with extra stores of food and water to keep them from
the trade roads. He prayed with them. And, when he was presented with the
opportunity, he healed them.

He came upon a village where a young boy had gotten sick. They had locked
the toddler away in an abandoned house and forbid others from seeing him.
His mother refused to abide by such orders, even knowing that going in to be
with him would make her sick. Of course, it had to be a human village.
Fitting into these homes was a bit of a pain, honestly. But he could endure
it for a short time.




Writer: Thaydius

Date Wed Jul 8 22:08:08 2015

To All Cassidy Araaduli ( Religion Siccara Imm )

Subject Protect Them (2/2)



He focused on his magical energy, trying to control or contain its
endless power as he shrank his body down to a point where he could fit
through the door. He donned a simple robe and blinked his cosmic eyes,
revealing the truth of their surface by drawing his light inward. As he
went through the door, there were no warnings from the woman as she cradled
her sick and infected child. She, too, of course was covered in sores but
kept a strong face for the boy. In closing the distance, he exposed himself
to the plague they had caught. As sure as it had All the other times, the
infection started to crop up over his body.

He wandered around and sat in front of the woman, silent at first. His
gaze, though the woman couldn't trace it with his eyes as they were, focused
on her and then the boy. There was a soft spot in his heart for the bond
between a mother and child. He imagined it was quite obvious as to why.

You shouldn't have come here...

He kept his face pointed toward the woman until she looked up and finally
saw his face, his skin and his otherworldly eyes.

Oh ... Maybe you should have come here.

Her face twisted in uncertainty. He hadn't worn his symbol of Siccara or
anything save for the robe he had impromptly made to garb him while he was
this size.

You are very brave.

She scoffed a little at that. She didn't seem angry, maybe a little
surprised to hear it.

They think I am stupid.

He shook his head, offering her a very sincere smile.

I don't care what they think. You're braver than I am. I came here knowing
I could cure you. You came here because of love. Love is the most powerful
force in this world.


The woman furrowed her brows, as if wondering why she had taken so long to
ask.

Who are you?

He really didn't hide anything from anybody.

My name is Thaydius. I'm the Son of Siccara. I'm here to cure you both.

The woman let out a quiet sigh and looked down at the boy. He wasn't in
good shape, but it wasn't anything that was going to give Thaydius trouble.
She nodded and tried to hold in her emotions as a tear started to sneak its
way down her cheek. He reached in and gently wiped away the salty speck,
his physical contact projecting a rush of warm, soothing energy into the
woman. And then he stood and held out his hand, drawing a symbol of Siccara
on the back of it before he wiped the sickness away from All three of them.
Now a tiny hand reached up from the child and gripped one of his fingers
after he finished his words. He looked down at the boy and smiled, feeling
the strength and health of the grip.

May my Mother watch over you...




Writer: Zola

Date Wed Jul 8 22:56:21 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Darkonin Fatale

Subject X Victim of the Plague X


It had been a busy day. Patients had flooded the healers tents as the
new plague washed over Algoron like a tidal wave, leaving moaning, sick
victims everywhere it went. Healers of Siccara had done their best to take
care of them all, while doing their best to avoid similar
infection. The
forces of Darkness had taunted safe from the sidelines, while Chaos had made
similar claims of grandeur and nihilism, but the healers had ignored them
all and focused on what was important: the people. Knights and Generals,
Common Folk and
Sorcerers, anyone who had succumbed was being helped, and
anyone who hadn't was working to help.


The elder healer of Siccara washed his hands in a basin of water as he
finished with his last victim, a young boy no older than twelve. Sadly, he
had been unable to save the boy's ailing mother, but the boy and his father
were still alive and were reunited in the
safety of the 'all clear' zone.
Sighing, the older man removed the handkerchief he'd been wearing around his
face to protect him from the plague. Many of the others had been doing the
same, healers and victims alike.


He turned back around to begin clean-up, and almost jumped out of his skin
at the sight of the other in the room.


"Oh Siccara, you almost gave me a heart attack," he said, clutching his
chest and breathing a sigh of relief. It must have been another healer
hoping to come deal with the plague. He was definitely dressed for the
part, wearing a hooded robe and his face shrouded
by a plague doctors mask.
"I think we have seen the last of them... not everyone could be saved, of
course, but we did our best."

"That you did," agreed the masked figure, lifting up his left hand and
revealing a ceremonial dagger hidden in the folds of his sleeves. Without
warning he plunged it into the healer's throat, simultaneously ensuring his
death by loss of blood and cutting his vocal cords
to ensure he could not
pray for healing magicks. "We are most displeased," Zola added, watching
as the white-haired man collapsed onto his back on the floor of the healing
tent. His blood oozed in copious amounts
as he gurgled out something,
perhaps his last words. They were too muffled by blood to be distinguished.
Not that they mattered.


Behind his mask, Zola smiled dully. Another enemy of Fatale's dead, another
body to fill the graves in Fatales hallowed church. This healer was a
particular offender. Perhaps not against Fatale personally, but the unified
Darkness was upset by his efforts to heal the plague
victims, sparing many
whom Dragoth would otherwise claim for himself. The Dark Brothers worked in
tandem in such instances, and this healer had denied them their due.


Clapping his hands once, Zola strolled out of the healers tent. As he did
so, his minions descended upon the corpse, dragging it behind him as he
returned to the Graveyard of Fallen Enemies. Already they were looking to
expand and open more graves in the
cold ground as quickly as they were
filled.


The work continued.




Writer: Drew

Date Thu Jul 9 04:56:03 2015




Writer: Boof

Date Thu Jul 9 08:51:44 2015

To All Darkonin ( Devion Imm Rp Sunny )

Subject (Dwarf Herding)


Boof trundled through the halls of the arena in a panic, his legs
carrying him as fast as he could go. Clutching his robes with his good hand
and holding a lantern in front with his claw, he screamed at the top of his
lungs for his pets.

Boof, was terrified. He had no idea if his favorites yet lived, but he knew
the rest of his dwarves had perished. Spending the majority of the night in
the dwarf pens, he soothed his dwarves suffering with blessings and prayers.
He even sang with them to help them on their journey to the Void. But
nothing worked.

What at first he found interesting, terrified him to his core. He was sad
to see so many dwarves go, but they were fodder. They existed only for
experimentation, and once that was over, they became food for his work of
art.

Passing a corridor, he cried out for his pet. "DWARFY!!! "

Boof panted as he held the lantern high in the air, light glinting off his
shiny new hook. "Where could himz be? " Boof wondered, as Tubar was not
sleeping in his kennel.


Boof had an idea, turning, he ran to the arena's dungeon. He cried and
screamed for his dwarves with All of his might. He genuinely loved his
little Tubar, and felt nothing but pride for his creation Muldingo. This
confused many of the members of Darkonin, and with good reason. Dwarves and
goblins -hated- each other with a visceral passion. They were born with
this hate, it wasn't a learned behavior but a reaction of natural selection.




But, as with many things, Boof was lacking in his survival skills and
instincts. Had his curiosity not overpowered his instincts to run, he would
still have his hand. As a child the elders in Dolund'ir had thought him a
savant. A genius, chosen by Devion himself to cause mischief and harass all
those he saw fit.

The reality however was that Boof was a moron. He was so distorted on
reality that he had confused many of the obvious emotions of others with
their opposites. And in the case of his pet dwarf, his natural hate was so
strong that he actually wanted to hug him and pet his beard.

The sad part being that Tubar hated Boof with a passion. And what Boof did
to show Tubar his affection only caused him misery, which Boof thought was
hilarious. All part of the game that Tubar and he played on a daily basis.



He panted as he landed in front of the dungeon door. Gripping the lock with
his slimy green hand, he threw open the door.

He raised his lantern and peered inside. Drool and sweat dripped from his
face as he stared in. Lurking in the shadows was a fearsome sight. Sitting
on the ground, was a -massive- mul dwarf. Standing this mul would easily
exceed five and a half feet. Hanging from his broad, muscular, and scarred
shoulders were great lengths of chain. Tied to these links were the
chewed-on remains of other dwarves. Maggots and filth covered some, bits,
while others were nothing more than bone. The meat chewed from them long
ago.

"MULDINGO!!! " Boof yelled as he saw the poor mul sitting within. He
sobbed for only a moment before he turned an annoyed look on the mul.
"Where iz Tubar!? Youz better not hab eated himz! "

The mul looked up, simply grinning with sharpened teeth at the goblin.

(TBC!!!)




Writer: Ashtiel

Date Thu Jul 9 20:21:20 2015




Writer: Asrar

Date Fri Jul 10 13:31:29 2015

To All ( Fatale Zola Imm rp )

Subject Challenge Accepted



Asrar walks calmly, unseen through the darkened city of Shalonesti. It
has been nearly two days since she has fed, and the demon is becoming
restless. At first she thought to just grab the first one she saw, feed,
and make her exit, but quickly decided that was not what she wanted. She
was tired of settling. Centaurs, goblins, she wanted something sweeter,
more tender. Her ears perk up as she hears the cry of a child in the night.
The sounds of one awoken by a nightmare and she smiles. That is what she
wanted, The innocence of youth. The blood of the untainted. Focusing on
the sound she picks up the childs fast beating heart and calmly makes her
way through the city to a small house. Without a sound she floats up to the
second floor window and pushes gently. The window opens without a sound and
Asrar grins, her teeth glistening as she anticipates the kill. Standing in
the shadows she watches the child, no more than seventeen, maybe eighteen at
the most. Another woman walks in holding a small candle and begins soothing
the girl, reassuring her there are no monsters, no things that go bump in
the night. The sound of their heartbeats drumming in her ears, filling her
with need. The woman pulls the girls blankets up and kisses her forehead.
With a smile she stands and walks out, coming within a few inches of her.
Asrar could barely contain herself, the woman's heartbeat loud... Screaming
in her ears. Floating over to the bed she looks down at the girl.
Untainted by men. Untainted by the horrors of this world. The smell of
rose and lavender oil permeating her bedclothes and blankets. Her breathing
slows as sleep reclaims her. With a smile and a small prayer of thanks to
Fatale for All he gives her, she sinks her fangs deeply into the virgin
elf's neck. As the girl's eyes fly open, Asrar stares deeply into her eyes,
quelling the scream that was about to erupt. As the bloodlust overtakes
her, Asrar closes her eyes and drinks. Lost in the moment she doesn't hear
the girl's heart slow to nearly nothing. A few moments later Asrar removes
her fangs from the dead girl, letting her corpse fall to the bed. The blood
has satiated her thirst for the moment, and was worth every risk to have it.
Wiping her mouth on the bedclothes, she picks up the drained and lifeless
body. With a whispered word she vanishes, reappearing in Abaddon. Stepping
into the graveyard just as the sun begins to rise, she drops the body into
an empty grave. Raising her head to the heavens she prays softly 'Lord of
Death, Master of the Void, Let this be a token of my faith. Let this
graveyard be filled with those that feed your servants. To you be glory.
Amen.




Writer: Dxutim

Date Fri Jul 10 15:35:07 2015

To All Admin Drakkara Imm (RP)

Subject The Horns of Power



The aegis of lightning surrounding the Minotaur flickered slightly
followed be an insane laughter. The catalyst of any Minotaur's power was
within Dxutim's hands, he looked down upon the Hill dwarf who had returned
them to him.

"Thank your dwarven master for the return of these, I shall see him rewarded
well.
"

With that the Champion turned his back from the dwarf and looked down at
what was once again within his possession, the memory of how they were taken
had haunted the Champion and the look upon his face craved vengeance.




Writer: Ashtiel

Date Sun Jul 12 06:18:15 2015




Writer: Euterah

Date Sun Jul 12 13:41:19 2015




Writer: Jainie

Date Sun Jul 12 14:54:45 2015




Writer: Thaydius

Date Sun Jul 12 17:16:56 2015

To All ( Religion Siccara Imm )

Subject Guide Them



These people will listen to you.

The Archangel observed something that he had kept neglecting. A young woman
with rich, red hair tucked a symbol of Siccara neatly into her new, white
robes. Next to her, an elf and dwarf argued over the taste of wine and ale
from their respective nations. A minotaur sat on a sturdy rock, looking
over those gathered as the other couple dozen socialized quietly. With a
flash of light, Thaydius arrived in the secluded meeting place and All of
those gathered grew quiet and looked toward him.

A time will come when you do great things.

The woman's voice was rather matter of fact about this. He had told her so
many times that he couldn't guarantee he would even see her again. She
wouldn't hear any of it. A gnome clutched a white stone and forged a
magical gate between wooden markers before a cart was led through into a
little village beyond. Behind him, young men were packing up supplies into
crates and stacking them into piles where others with parchments went over
the details. Further back, Thaydius glowed with magical exertion as he
forged fresh water and magical food that others collected and processed.

They need you more than you can know.

The skies themselves had spoken to him, reminding him that he was always
being watched over. So he decided to watch over the others, sending out
parties of scouts and Knights into the wilderness. Some of them wore the
symbol of a shield. Others had religious garb. All of them worked together
to secure churches and temples. Thaydius opened a palm, firing a thick
blast of frost that coated a previously unseen bandit. He reached down with
alacrity and gripped the man, wandering out into the sun as it started to
burn away the criminal's flesh. It sneered defiantly at him before he
squeezed its neck with his other hand, twisting and pulling the body apart
so it could fall to the ground and burn into ashes.

You don't know how much this means to me.

He stood in Thalosia, gazing down at the Deacon with a sense of pride. She
had come so far. He remembered when he first met her. That the Archangel
had chosen her was something he found reassuring, given her merciful lean.
Together they kept pushing back the plague, pushing it out of cities, trying
to offer the people some rest. In the meantime, his collected followers had
been fortifying the people who lived outside of the walls, away from the
infected guards.

You should be more proud of what you are.

He thought back to the Silver's advice. How he missed All the firstborn of
his younger years. Of All the adventures they had together, he contemplated
if they would have already figured this out by now. After days of healing,
of coordinating, of fighting and of praying he found himself taking another
short break in the dreamy fields. There, he stared up at the sky and
watched the stars, feeling them through the vast distance. He thought of
what mattered to him most.

A newborn boy, safe in the arms of his Mother. In a world small enough to
fit in such a delicate woman's arms, and to be the world to that woman. The
goddess looked down at the tiny infant, letting her chin dip down as her
silky hair spilled over a shoulder while she shifted.

I love you, Thaydius.

He wiped his face and stared up at the sky, taking in a long view of the
White Moon.

I love you, too, mother...




Writer: Andreyna

Date Sun Jul 12 19:25:03 2015

To All Shalonesti_kingdom Shalonesti Arkane Nordmaar Arthais Asrar Megan Zandreya Zypher Imm Rp

Subject The Lifesong


Andreyna Sha'evlas made her way through Shalonesti's groves, from elf to
elf, offering aid to her cousins. She comforted them, prayed with them,
offered spells of nourishment, and the blessings of the Mother to hasten
their recovery. The elves were exhausted, the plague had taken a toll on
them, and yet they continued to go out, continued to heal any who was
stricken with the disease, continued to aid the other kingdoms, continued to
search for the source.

The Queen of the elves looked over the groves, some elves slept, some packed
their pouches with herbs, preparing to leave to aid once more. She sighed
softly, she wanted to leave, she wanted to aid her cousins, she wanted to
travel across Algoron to fight the plague. It had been days since she left
the groves, ordered to stay safely inside, the elves protecting their Queen
and the Shalonost child she carried.

Andreyna climbed into a hammock, pulling a pile of missives into her lap,
thumbing through them, reading each one. Most of the missives contained
information and concern about the Deathsong, All of Algoron was looking for
the source and for a permanent cure. Another missive was from the
Sha'falas, a young elf had gone missing from her home in the middle of the
night a few evenings before, there was still no sign of the girl. The
girl's mother was in despair, she had sent the girl to bed, reassuring her
that she was safe, that nothing was in the darkness to harm her.

Raising her eyebrows in astonishment, Andreyna read over the missive from
the Queen of Nordmaar. The elf laughed softly, shaking her head. The
Vallens as well as Arkane had closed their gates in hopes of keeping the
Deathsong out, protecting their citizens, and the Highlander had taken it
personally. This truly did surpise the elven Queen, she did not expect this
from Nordmaar. Many other kingdoms had expressed their understanding in
Shalonesti's wishes to close their gates, but the Highlanders were genuinely
offended by it. Shalonesti along with Arkane had helped countless citizens
of other kingdoms, had gone in search of the source of the plague, they were
more than willing to aid anyone who needed it, they simply wished to keep
the plague from entering their kingdom. Was that such an awful idea?
Andreyna laughed softly, she would never truly understand humans.

Tired elves began to make their way into the groves once more, Andreyna
tucked her missives away, and climbed out of the hammock. A light tickle
ran across her rounded tummy, the baby moving about inside her. The elf
laughed caressing her tummy gently. 'We just won't worry about that right
now, will we?
' The plague was running rampant across the lands, the elves
were working around the clock to aid, to find the source, they were
exhausting themselves, the cause to end the Deathsong was much more
important.

The Deathsong, the Deacon of Zandreya was tired of hearing those words, she
dreaded the moans of the infected echoing throughout the lands, her heart
ached for those who fought the plague, for the elves coming into the the
groves exhausted, only to go back out to fight once more. Andreyna moved
about the groves once more, placing her hands on each elf, a song praising
the Mother began to emerge from her lips, a song about birth, about growth,
of nature's blessings, a Lifesong.




Writer: Gabhran

Date Sun Jul 12 23:00:46 2015




Writer: Gabhran

Date Sun Jul 12 23:55:55 2015




Writer: Gabhran

Date Mon Jul 13 00:26:01 2015




Writer: Gabhran

Date Mon Jul 13 00:47:00 2015




Writer: Gabhran

Date Mon Jul 13 00:59:11 2015




Writer: Mahina

Date Mon Jul 13 12:45:05 2015

To All Religion Nadrik RP

Subject Praying for the End



Mahina ran from kingdom to kingdom as the requests for assistance were
received. The thoughts of self preservation far from her mind, she must
heed the calls for everyone's safety. Day and night passed, yet she
continued healing the infected, setting her needs aside.

Another day and night passed yet their were no signs of controlling the
sickness. Her attention returned to Althainia where the outbreak once again
returned. Exhaustion was setting in but she continued with All her strength
until she could go no more.

She barely made it to the Temple of Nadrik and walked over to the statue.
Her legs gave way as she dropped to her knees and cried. When she finally
calmed, she looked up at the statue and she prayed, My Lord, I have tried my
best yet I have failed. Send me your strength to continue to assist the
citizens, the hope that we can find a way to totally cure them, and the
patience to continue even when the feelings of frustration set in. I ask
this in Your name, Amen.


The moment she finishes her prayer, she falls over on the ground in a deep
sleep.




Writer: Jainie

Date Wed Jul 15 19:30:19 2015




Writer: Krazeth

Date Thu Jul 16 18:17:33 2015




Writer: Taggett

Date Fri Jul 17 13:25:01 2015

To All Arkane Lothaw Chaos Kantilles Austinian Necrucifer Imm *RP*

Subject Losing Balance. *P1*



Taggett Silverwolfe has a few reasons for boarding The Black Crane that
morning. It had been a very long time since shed taken a trip to Shokono.
It was maybe the weather, but something was pushing her to get out of the
Haven. Shed kept herself there for the last few weeks, wanting to keep
Sunbeam, her golden chocobo safe from the disease that had become so common
place on Algoron. Packing a healthy number of gnarled staves, she tied
Sunbeam off in the safety of Arkane. Arkane, Taggett let her mute green
eyes drift across the docks of the port as she thought of her new home. It
had taken a good deal of time to get back to feeling somewhat normal.
Having waken after hundreds of years would have that effect on anyone. With
Palquinn back in her life, it made things easier, the kender girl was her
best friend and they seemed to be the only ones that still shared the same
history.

Loud men roared at each other as they prepared for the huge ship to break
into the open water. Taggett had enjoyed this trip many times in her life.
She liked that Shokono was protected by magic. It made even someone like
her slow down and life a simpler life. Placing her gloved hands to the
railing she looked down from the crows nest. She needed some time away.
Arkane hurt her heart sometimes. She found so many good people inside its
walls, but at the same time it allowed for so much darkness to walk hand in
hand with the light. Lothaw had made good point in the fact she didnt want
to force her will on others. Yet, she also knew she was not a keeper of the
balance, she was truly a child of Kantilles. She believed in good, she
believed in kindness. She believed the Gods would see them had should there
not have become some corruption to that love along the way.

The thought of Kantilles brought a warmth to her cheeks. She couldnt help
but have a completely maddening crush on the God. After All every story
shed heard of him was basked in kindness, knowledge, and he was always
depicted as exceptionally handsome. The waves rocked under the boat as the
ship started to make some real speed across the Tirixin Belian.

It might have been the confined space that had started to gnaw at everyone,
the mood that was thick with just a little anger. People had grown mad that
the Gods would still let them suffer as they were. People needed relief.
It was the night before Lothaw had given her four artifacts from a time many
had forgotten. She was surprised he would let something as important as the
pieces of ice go. Two of them were deep and dark, the other pair bright and
glowing. They had been shed by Necrucifer and Austinian when they had been
battling. Collecting essence, the story was strange, she wished shed been
awake to have been there for something so shaping to the history of Algoron.
Gods could die, something shed never have imagined in her life.




Writer: Taggett

Date Fri Jul 17 13:29:34 2015

To All Arkane Lothaw Chaos Kantilles Austinian Necrucifer Imm *RP*

Subject Losing Balance. *P2*



The four pieces of never melting ice, clinked together in her gem pouch.
It was a collection of short conversations over the last few days that had
brought her to think of the plan. She debated back and forth between
Shokono and Tropica. Tropica might have been a better plan as the cult
Chaos resided on its shores. She would at least start. She had a feeling,
the banks of the weeping crane river would be as good a place as any.

Shimmering green dragonflys buzzed back and forth from the water, to plant,
stopping in midair before zipping off again. Kneeling she placed the first
piece of glowing ice to the ground. She would build a circle. One piece of
the ice to each direction of the elements. Part of her still remembered the
wild and forbidden magic shed been born with as a witch. Now she would rest
here, she would meditate. She would listen to the elements. She would pray
to Kantilles. She would use the knowledge she had of disease. She after
all was a self proclaimed Life Mage. Shes spent years in the Conclave
learning All there was about death, illness, plague.

Magic was part of her whole life, and if the disease was coming from a
source of magic, it shared so many similar qualities to the Scourage, a
deadly plague of the Necromancer. If it was coming from something magic she
would find it. If it was from the Gods she would call on them, if it was
part of the natural order she would listen to the elements. If it was none
of those things, then may the White Gods protect their children.

All she knew for certain, If she didnt want to be part of thebalance, then
she needed to start acting like she was part of the light.





Writer: Erebaal

Date Sat Jul 18 05:52:13 2015

To Kingdom Clan Chaos ( Malachive Scorn All )

Subject Nothing Shall Save You (Deathsong)


Pathetic creatures.. '

Far below and away, mere insects from the distance, a great commotion was
stirring. Peasants and commoners milled about the capitol of Arkane, pushed
back by armored figures whose protections glinted faintly in the sunlight.
It was quite a ways from the cliffs in the Kender Forest, but on the still
air, the distant sound of agonized singing was plain. The entire world
seemed to hum with it now, a keening chorus of growing pain.

The Everchosen observed from his distant perch, mailed arms folded over his
chest as he watched the distant villagers surge again, desperately
attempting to enter the kingdom's great city- for family, for their
belongings, for an audience with their King, for healing. Each time, the
guards rallied and pushed them back, diverting them to the north and south
with little undue cruelty. Tensions were running high, but the Arkanian
guard was well-disciplined, at the least. Bloodless lips curled into a
snarl, and clawed gauntlets scratched at the layered plate of his upper arm.
It would take more than this early stage of the Deathsong to break their
will.

The Everchosen began to turn away when a faint murmur caught his attention.
A discordant note among the eerily unified song of the plague creeping
through the bodies of its innumerable hosts. A soft chant, a rhythmic
utterance interspersed with the rasping clank of mail. The crunch of loose
stones being crushed underfoot heralded the arrival of the Everchosen's
company, the uninvited intruder on the lord of Chaos' musings and
observations. 'I've found you at last, Everchosen. Did you think you would
go unnoticed long when you stand your ground above All others, holding
yourself up like a king while the rest of the world suffers?
'

The Everchosen finally turned away from the sight as the rabble far below
began to properly disperse, spirits broken by the stringent martial law
imposed by the Arkanians- doubtless a few of the guardsmen had been infected
through even these passing exchanges. His Deathsong was exceptionally
virulent, if not particularly lethal for the present. Dark eyes peered
through an infernal mask, the Abhorrent's gaze fixed upon the newcomer, a
strong-jawed man bedecked in gleaming silver and platinum. Mail-backed
gloves were layered with intricately-filigreed sigils, and a cotton tabard
was dyed in gentle yellows and strong blues in the shape of Siccara's
faithful, 'The entire world hunts you, monster, but it falls to me to end
your terror.
' A straight sword already found a home wrapped in a leather
gauntlet, bared for use, 'I will take the seal from your corpse and the Lady
shall see to your evil deeds.
'

A heartbeat passed before a hideous sound passed the still air between the
two men- laughter. Deep, rumbling laughter, belly laughter, poured from the
jagged mouth of the Everchosen. It had become more and more common since
the unleashing of the plague, this expression of dark, sadistic joy, 'You,
boy, shall unseat a champion. Come, then, child, and strike me down before
I claim your heart for my next horror!
' The Everchosen's arms uncrossed
and fell to his sides, iron claws flexing as he beheld his foe, the grim
amusement fleeting as the moment of murder quickly approached, 'Your
mistress shall not save you, just as she has not saved this world.
'

The crusader balked, then spat a vitriolic oath as he adjusted his grip on
his sword, taking one step forward before leaping, leading with the killing
edge of the blade, 'And nothing shall save you, monster! ' The sword darted
with a serpent's speed, carried on a zealot's faith, but found itself
arrested as the Everchosen's arm rose, the thick chains encircling his
forearms snagging the blade on their barbed links.

The moment of stalemate lasted a breath, a moment that stretched on for
eternity as the crusader realized the depth of his folly. Opposite him, the
Everchosen smiled a predator's smile. He had found another offering.




Writer: Ferg

Date Sat Jul 18 14:02:23 2015




Writer: Andreyna

Date Sat Jul 18 14:51:37 2015

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Drondon Cytrina Boof Darkonin Chaos Zandreya Siccara Zypher Imm Rp

Subject Lifesong: The Request for Zandreya


'On behalf of the world, I am asking for your help', the tiny pixie's
high-pitched voice echoed in Andreyna's mind, Cytrina requesting the
Deacon's aid. The pixie, and the world it seemed, believed that Zandreya
would be able to aid the world with defeating this Deathsong. The blessed
Mother, being one with nature, might be able to sense a shift in the
balance, might be able to locate the source of this most unnatural plague
sweeping across the lands. The pixie believe that since Siccara came to
aid, perhaps Zandreya would as well. Siccara was unable to heal the world
the from the plague, but perhaps Zandreya may be able to point them in the
correct direction, may be able to help them in finding the source.

Andreyna kneeled before the statue of Zandreya within the Atrium in the
Vallens. She had never been one to beg the Mother for aid, her prayers to
the Goddess had usually be ones of thanks and gratitude for the blessings
She had bestowed upon the world. The Deacon had always believed that the
Mother would naturally provide them with strength, knowledge, endurance,
that their goals and needs would be achieved if it were the Mother's will.
But this was different, this was a situation the world have never dealt with
before, this was a plague created by Chaos that was destroying the lands,
this was unnatural, this was against the Mother's will.

The elf Queen looked up to the statue, her voice spreading throughout the
Atrium as she prayed to the Goddess, as she begged the Mother of Nature to
come down and aid Algoron. The world needed Zandreya. The world requested
the aid of the gracious Goddess. Tears filled her eyes as she thought of
the suffering, as she felt the pain of her cousins, of the Vallens, of the
faithful of Zandreya. Hope filled her heart as she thought of the many
search parties searching for the source of the Deathsong, of the world
coming together as one to end this plague, of the cries for Zandreya's aid.


The Deacon finished her prayer, rising to her feet. She approached the
statue, bending to kiss the feet of the Mother, 'The world needs You,
blessed Mother.
', she whispered softly in Elvish. She turned to leave the
Atrium, the Vallens was infected again, an enemy of the elves had snuck in,
a swashbuckler hiding behind their mask, spreading the plague, doing the
work of Chaos. The pregnant Queen no longer stayed safe within the Groves.
Her people needed her, people begged her to call upon Zandreya. She had no
doubt that her child would be safe. She would heal the afflicted elves once
more, she would sing to them the Lifesongs, the songs of the Mother, the
songs of hope. She would again join the search parties of Darkonin, or
whomever else invited her along. There would be an end to this Deathsong.




Writer: Eszka

Date Sat Jul 18 16:24:30 2015




Writer: Merrida

Date Sun Jul 19 09:10:18 2015




Writer: Laiox

Date Sun Jul 19 09:41:30 2015




Writer: Ferg

Date Sun Jul 19 12:41:12 2015




Writer: Asrar

Date Sun Jul 19 13:00:22 2015




Writer: Ferg

Date Sun Jul 19 14:06:48 2015




Writer: Ilimilipili

Date Mon Jul 20 07:11:03 2015




Writer: Yurgeon

Date Mon Jul 20 15:36:24 2015




Writer: Rosa

Date Mon Jul 20 19:51:53 2015




Writer: Azjuhb

Date Mon Jul 20 21:38:00 2015




Writer: Azjuhb

Date Mon Jul 20 21:48:09 2015




Writer: Derdrui

Date Mon Jul 20 22:26:33 2015

To All Shadow Imm *RP*

Subject Father For The Mother



Dont forget and do not open this door until I come Back.

There was a point in Derdrui's life when she thought she was truly going to
be happy. All that time on Shokono. The library of Storm Keep was quiet,
grand in its scale. She hadn't expected that, she hadn't even expected a
library. She wasn't sure what she had expected going in. Perhaps some dark
hole under ground. Sometimes the idea of living in a dark hole sounded good
to her.

Candles flickered against her sun soaked skin. Her flame red hair falling
in tangles framing the cold steel of her eyes. The book in front of her was
deeply engrossing, almost quieting the voice at the back of her head.
Reminding her what day it was. It had been two weeks.

She had been instructed not to leave until she'd read every last piece of
work about The Knights of Necrucifer. No small task, much like having
searched out a way into the Storm Keep.

Months ago shed reached an end to her desire to keep living the life she had
been. Killing for profit, frightening the right people to make a living.
If it was just her, perhaps it would have been easier. She needed to
provide a better life. The stress turned out to be too much.

It came a point in which Derdrui, the woman only called D. Submitted to
life. She had to believe she was meant for something more. She would give
herself to Necrucifer she would trust her devotion would mean better things,
for her, for...

Her back itched, fresh tattoos down her back. The names of the dark
Pantheon of gods scrolled down her back in elvish. She could not scratch
them through the fur coat. The coast of Icewall was bitter. She had to
break the rules. She had to sneak away just for a moment, she'd finish the
books before anyone knew she was gone.

It had been two weeks, since she'd left her alone. The cabin stunk of old
food and looked completely a mess, as it shook in the cold winds outside.

Relief filled D. Sitting on the edge of a bed looking as if she'd just
woke, holding a knife in protection of whoever might be intruding. Sat, her
fourteen year old daughter.

I didn't forget mother, I didn't let anyone in.




Writer: Zola

Date Tue Jul 21 03:18:16 2015

To All Pitheuis Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Darkonin Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Fatale

Subject X Burning Bridges X


Forays into the Shalonesti woods were an uncommon occurrence for Zola.
Normally he let lumberjacks acquire the wood he needed and
left them well
alone, only making infrequent appearances to attack and harass the elven
people, keeping them on edge, reminding them
of terrible things in the dark
that they should fear. But today he caught sight of something unexpected,
and swiftly hid himself in
the shadows of a nearby tree to watch the
confrontation.


A silver-haired elf, muscular and large, probably one of the wilder
descendants. Deeply engaged in a battle against two other elves,
warriors
armed with swords and staves. Zola recognized his fighting style, the very
annoying (and very painful) bladesong. He was a
Shalonesti... Yet he
fought against his own people? Curious, Zola tilted his head to listen more
closely to his words. He knew
enough Elvish to figure out the jist of his
taunts.


He spoke of arrogance and stupidity amongst the elven people. Of smug
superiority and endless, pointless debate. He spoke of
purification by
fire. He was almost gleeful as he declared the Vallenwoods would burn to
the ground and become naught but ash.


His vision was heartwarming, and Zola found himself nodding in agreement,
the view one he'd often shared of the future. A future
consumed in fire and
blood and death. Not just for the Vallenwoods but All of Algoron as
Darkness Descended upon it. Still,
you had to start somewhere.

Pitheuis was his name, Zola later learned. Nemesis, some called him.
Traitor, Oathbreaker, Heathen.


He had burned the bridge of his past so thoroughly that it would be nothing
but ash. Yet what would rise from those ashes, Zola
was very keen to
witness for himself.





Writer: Krazeth

Date Tue Jul 21 04:08:03 2015




Writer: Taggett

Date Tue Jul 21 14:12:23 2015

To All Quinlan Palquinn Kantilles Arkane Nordmaar Imms *RP OBVIOUSLY*

Subject The First Dream



The sound of ocean waves started to fade. As if the water had suddenly
started to funnel down into the earth until the echoing sound spiraled to a
silence somewhere below her. Taggett sat upright. This wasnt right, she
had fallen asleep next to Palquinn and Quinlen. This was not Shokono. The
forest floor was coated in a thin layer of fresh snow, powdered and crunched
as she moved. Looking around she found Palquinn. The kender looked
different, yet more familiar somehow.

Tagget, you look old again. Palquinn was saying something to that effect
as she moved to get close to the Life Mage. Taggett didnt have to see
herself to understand what her friend was talking about. Palquinn looked
older as well, as if Taggetts spell had never been cast, as if she was the
age she would have been, give or take a couple hundred years.

The plague, the only logical explanation Taggett could come up with. This
didnt seem to help Palquinn understand. I didnt become, people dont study
Necromancy just to help others.
Taggett sighed hating to admit to one more
spell in a scrolling list of magic shed put the kender through over the
years. I cast a spell on us, one when I woke in the destroyed forest, and
one on you when I found your body in The Vale. A spell that should our
bodies near death, we would again sleep.
Taggett shook her head with a
heavy sigh.

What about Quinlen? Palquinn looked around the Blackwood Forest. Dead
Taggett groaned He didnt have the spell on him. Even as she said it,
something didnt make sense about the whole situation. If they had entered
the death sleep again, how did they end up on Icewall when theyd fallen
asleep on Shokono. Unless someone had moved their body. Was it again
hundreds of years since everyone they had known lived?!

Stand Up! An Ariel male swooped in at a narrowing speed. A huge mace in
his hand, and a kilt? Palquinn was on her feet in an instant, but Taggett
was trapped in her thoughts. Why didnt it feel cold? If they were one
Icewall, if this was snow on the ground, why wasnt it cold? Your under
arrest in th name of Nordmaars Ariel Queen!
A Gate Taggett! Palquinn was
shouting something in the back of the Life Mages mind but she couldnt be
stirred.

We are both having the same dream! Taggett looked up at last, as Palquinn
was yanked upward holding the ankle of the Ariel attacker. She watched as
her kender friend in a shot hoisted herself up and slammed a blade into the
Ariels side. She hit something important inside the man, his wings stopped
and he started crashing back down. Blood, so much blood, it rained down and
covered over Taggetts face. Palquinn sprang down from a couple of the tree
branches she had caught herself on. Taggett felt a sudden rush of
excitement. It was her first dream since shed woken. It was her first
dream in hundreds of years. Here she was sharing it with her best friend.
It meant the spell was fading. That they were going to have a second chance
at a normal life.

I missed you, Taggett wrapped her arms around her kender friend. Palquinn
looked young, as she was now. They had a second chance at a normal life.

Taggett opened her eyes and looked up at the stars above Shokono. Her once
mute green eyes, now a bright gaspeite green, so bright they glowed back at
the stars. So bright she could see the reflection in the waters waves. So
bright she knew something had changed inside of her.




Writer: Phred

Date Wed Jul 22 12:59:46 2015

To All Nordmaar ( Imm RP )

Subject Sleeping History: Phred's Dreaming



Phred did not often dream, when she did they were confusing pictures and
people and places. A smoky hazy charred ground that seemed to go off into
each direction as far as she could see, she took a step forward and
something crunched under her boot. She looked down and a skull grinned up
at her. She lifted her foot and was thoroughly muddled. It was not a human
like skull, it was some animal, smaller than a cow, a sheep, she thought.
She stood and looked around, hoping some clarity would come to the scene.

A wind blew grit in her eyes, she lifted hands to wipe her face and realized
they were so much smaller than she thought they should be, in fact looking
at herself she realized she was a lot smaller, younger, was a better word.
She was little again. She started to run then, feeling as if she was missed
or missing. She seemed lost and the gray gritty landscape did nothing to
dissuade the growing anxiety that was building within her small body. She
ran for All she was worth, until her lungs were on fire, heart pounding, a
stitch in her side caused her to stop and pant for breath. She realized
something was watching her, something very large that suddenly covered her
in shadow. She turned and was paralyzed by dragonfear. Her small childish
brain consumed for a moment. She understood what had happened. Everything
was gone, destroyed, eaten, devoured, her family, brothers and Ma and Dad,
all their sheep and fields and chickens, her cat, the house, her collection
of wooden dolls that her brothers had carved for her birthdays.

Nothing was left for her, except a big black shadow that seemed to watch her
from a distance, she heard a deep rolling laughter and suddenly her childish
mind burned through the dragonfear and she screamed in fury at the beast.
She picked up a rock from the ground turned and threw it as hard as she
could at the shadowy beast. No more fright in her small frame, she was all
fight now. Something reached out and tapped her head. She closed her eyes
and braved death, but when she opened them, she was in a forested area. She
looked around, so confused and then collapsed against a tree, slumping down
and exhausted, fell out of the dream and woke.

Phred was huddled in a cloak still and she gave a sigh, rubbed her face with
a hand and snuggled down, seeming more tired now than when she had fallen
asleep last. She closed her eyes and forgot about the dream, letting sleep
claim her once more.




Writer: Zola

Date Thu Jul 23 03:05:02 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Darkonin Fatale

Subject X Ashes to Ashes X


The graveyard was silent now, as the black moon rose high in the night
sky. Drakkara cast her dark gloom over the Graveyard of
Fallen Enemies.
Only the Deathscythe was there to appreciate it, All petitioners, faithful,
or other servants of the Lord of
Murder had departed.

It was a glorious sight to behold.

When first the Challenge had done out, the faithful had been sluggish to
respond. Lost, confused, unguided and unmotivated to
take part in it. What
did it matter when and how they killed, some had argued. But now more of
them were answering the call.
More were taking it upon themselves to make
the enemies of the unified Darkness suffer before death. They and their
loved ones
dragged here, buried in the Graveyard, filling in the open graves
with fresh soil. No flowers grew on any of the entombed
bodies, but here
and there a black candle had been lit atop of their grave makers, casting a
flickering, feeble light that
threatened any minute to be snuffed out by the
shadows.


Truly, a glorious sight. Zola cast out his hollow gaze over the rest of the
graveyard, however, seeing many more graves yet
to be filled. They had many
enemies yet to bury still.


And much work to do.




Writer: Ryakirdon

Date Thu Jul 23 15:12:29 2015




Writer: Ryakirdon

Date Thu Jul 23 15:15:35 2015




Writer: Ferg

Date Thu Jul 23 16:09:34 2015




Writer: Ferg

Date Thu Jul 23 16:09:37 2015




Writer: Ashbie

Date Fri Jul 24 00:40:48 2015

To All Verminasia Marcaus Immortal Roleplay

Subject Raising Hell: Prelude of the Storm I


The pitter patter of rain was like the soft running of cats. Except it
wasn't just a couple of cats. Maybe it was more like several hundred. It
was only their feet though. Soft. Gentle. Soothing. Wet. It was definitely
wet.

Ashbie had never minded the damp though. Most of her life had been spent on
ships. She'd spent more time on land in the last couple of years as
Verminasia's highest-ranking General than she probably had in All of the
years leading up to that point. Ashbie reached up with a hand already
soaked to the bone from being out in the rain All day. She tried futilely
to clear her eyes from the rain drizzling down across them. She should
have worn her helm, but the bloody thing was uncomfortable. It itched.

In front of her stood an impressive line of men and women. Soldiers in
truth. When one was armored and standing at attention it was difficult to
tell them apart. Ashbie knew of course. She tried to know as much about
every soldier as she could. It was an impossible task, Verminasia's army
was far too large for her to. She did try to remember names though. And
occasionally she had the chance of surprising someone by knowing that
they weren't, in fact, a man. Or, on rarer occasions, a woman.

It was true that martial life had a tendency to gruff one up to the
appearance of a man. Ashbie wondered sometimes why she hadn't fallen into
the same morass of gender confusion. Occasionally someone would mistake her
for a man by her name, but few continued mistaking her after meeting.
She supposed it was because she took time to cultivate her appearance, not
all women did. Nor did they have to, but she certainly took a fancy to it.

Vanity.

A delicious sin. Yet, it was still something that had to be kept in check.
Just because Verminasia was known as the kingdom of "Evil" didn't mean
that they simply languished in vice. Too much of anything was always
toxic. Knowing that had always kept Ashbie ahead of the curve. Higher
Evil, Lower Evil. Ashbie knew the arguments. She certainly fell in the
former, though she knew many who let themselves get lost in their
indulgences. They weren't bad people either, but she was definitely
better than them.

Ashbie continued down the line of soldiers. All of them stood still, like
statues that had been carved thousands of years ago. Somehow, impressively,
as motionless and perfect as when they had been made. There was no "I" in
the Royal Verminasian Army. Even Ashbie had to turn down her flamboyant
flair a little, play along with the formalities and niceties.

Still, she had gotten to where she was because she was better. In her
heart, Ashbie knew it to be true. Her parents had ingrained in her a
loathing of slavery. Ashbie knew that keeping people as property was a
bit wrong, but she had never fully convinced herself of the idea that
everyone was created equal.

Sometimes she still wondered if her parents hated her for that.

Claudette and Rikam. Maman and Papa. They loved her, just as she loved
them. Blood is thicker than water. Cliches and All that, but it still held
true. The one thing that the priests of love rarely, if ever, mentioned
was that just because hate was on the other side of the coin didn't mean
they couldn't coexist.

Random probabilities suggested that a coin flipped hundreds of times would
come to a roughly equal number of heads and tails. So it was true with
the unending bonds of unconditional love. At least, that's what Ashbie had
found. If you loved someone so much that you couldn't ever not love them,
then it was likely you spent just as much time hating them as well.

It was perfect. Beautiful.

Ashbie tilted back her chin, holding her head up. The fire that burned in
her eyes was not hate, but it looked similar.

"Verminasia!" She cried out, bellowing across the cat-footed rain.

"VERMINASIA!!!" The legion called out in response, thundering in her ears.




Writer: Lira

Date Fri Jul 24 09:15:23 2015

To All IMM RP Religion Siccara

Subject The Stench of Death



The ship to Shokono seemed to take forever to Lira, she knew the ride to
the manor would take even longer and she was in a hurry to get there. She
was so worried for her parents she did not care for her own safety she just
wanted to get there and now. She rode Midnight at a gallop All the way and
as she reached the gates the stench of death filled the air. She dismounted
the stallion and led him into the gates.

Lira looked to the right and left at the large fires being used to burn the
bodies of those who died of the plague, she continued to walk past, calming
the stallion, as she reached the manor steps. One of the healthy stable
boys arrived to take the stallion to a stall.

She entered the double doorway of the manor as the scent of disinfectant
shocked her senses, the smell was so strong she could barely breath. She
started up the spiral staircase, calling out to her mother and father, but
no one answered. She was starting to get concerned because they always
answered. She walked slowly to the master bedroom and she could hear a soft
crying. She went to the door expecting the worse.

Lira quietly turned the nob and slowly opened the door, there laid her
father, his skin pale, his body wasted away, unable to speak a word. She
walked over to his bedside and placed her hand lovingly on his head, "Holy
Mother, I would beg you for your healing upon my father, but even I know
when when his time has come. Take him into Your loving arms where I know he
will be in peace. I ask this in Your name. Amen.
She once again looks
down at her father, taking his hand, as he breathes his last breath.

She turns to her mother Why? Her mother says nothing and Lira leaves the
room. She leaves the manor as quick as she can, asking for her stallion,
and boarding the ship back home. The only heir to a manor she no longer
wants.





Writer: Lira

Date Sat Jul 25 09:55:01 2015

To All IMM RP

Subject Back or was She



Lira led Midnight into the gates of the Kingdom trying her best to avoid
contact with anyone. She slowly made her way to the quiet garden and sat on
the bench, the anger and hurt building inside. She could see her father
lying on the bed unable to speak a sound. The questions in her mind only
served to feed her anger.

Why had my mother not contacted me sooner? Why did she leave me in the
dark? Why did she not give me the chance to receive his final blessing?
WHY? She stood as she started to pace the garden unable to control the
anger festering inside. She decided to to the only thing she could do,
train until she was too exhausted to train any longer. She grabbed the
stallions reins and headed out.





Writer: Alathen
Date Sat Jul 25 11:00:44 2015

To All Imms RP Taliena Aliera

Subject Time for rest(like it or not)



Alathen a breath away from Fatale's grasp, Curing plague victims
studying. Over and over and again staving of Death Song's plague from the
City, countless times. Had brought him to point exhaustion where one breath
could be his last.

Waiting till the last moment where he could do no more not even standing he
called for aid. Teimhnean and Aliera quickly came to aid. Everything was
blurs of black or white. Pure agony coursed threw him as every muscle, far
closer to dead then alive.

Healing magic was muscle tearing threw his senses like fire while renewing
his body. Barely breathing and nearly stripped of life he drifts away from
the little consciousness he had. Slowly of endless healing day and night,
Pain felt endless healing his extremely exhausted body.

He will need several days rest, only for brief moments of drifting in and
out consciousness. While he breathes softly does he even appear to be
alive. After stripped of All strength he'll need a long rest.

He would be forced to rest now if he liked it or not.




Writer: Ferg
Date Sat Jul 25 11:35:32 2015




Writer: Lira
Date Sat Jul 25 13:04:46 2015

To All IMM RP Siccara Religion

Subject Donning the Robes



Lira trained far into the night until she had finally reached her goal.
She sighed softly as she looked at the area surrounding her, before
returning home to see her mentor.

She walked into the clerics inner sanctum as her mentor tipped his head "Are
you prepared for the path you have chosen?"
She looks at him with sadness
in her eyes "I am ready for and honored to don the robes as Her priestess."
The cleric looks at Lira "Pray to Her my child."

Lira bows her head "Holy Mother, I have made the choice to enter your flock,
may I be a blessing to them as I help them in any way that I can. I will
seek those who can teach me of your ways and pray for your blessings as I
seek Your ways. I pray in Your name. Amen"


She spoke some time with the cleric and accepted All the books she needed,
and started her studies as Her priestess.




Writer: Ferg

Date Sat Jul 25 14:07:17 2015




Writer: Ashbie

Date Sat Jul 25 22:11:50 2015

To Verminasia All Marcaus Immortal Roleplay KWARS

Subject Raising Hell: Prelude of the Storm II


The tides were changing. Ashbie remembered when she would stand on the
firm planks of a ship, staring out at the coastline. Most people looked
at the land. They saw the trees and the roads. They saw the people on the
shore. Sometimes they saw houses. Leaning shacks and massive estate manors.
Ashbie rarely noticed those things. The other half of the coast was the
ocean itself. The movement of the waves, rolling towards the shore. Then
they would crest and crash. The very line where the seas met the coast
was intriguing too.

Sometimes it was in low tide and water was retreated from the shore. There
were little pools where sea life survived, waiting for the mother ocean to
bring them back in. There were sometimes even little streams, rivulets of
water trying desperately to make it back to where it belonged.

Then there was the high tide. The ocean was a queen, reminding the people
of the shore that she was never far away. When a storm met the high tide,
she reminded the people of her anger. They could be near her, touch her,
sail on her, but they were never her equals. She cut through the weak like
a scythe through chaff. Leaving only the strong. The worthy to gaze upon
her magnificence.

Ashbie looked down at the letter in her hand. The paper was fine, soft
between her fingers. It was like velvet to the touch. It had a distinctive
smell too. The odors of ink and fresh parchment wafted up. At the base of
the letter was a Royal seal. From the King of Verminasia himself.

Well, not the King. He was General now. His daughter, Liviya Madaur was
Crown. Still, the Royal seal was there, and the elegant script definitely
belonged to Marcaus Madaur. He rarely wrote his own correspondance. He had
been in charge for so long that he had far too much to do than sit down at
a table and write. Yet, more than most, he knew that trust could only
extend so far. Some messages were meant only for the eyes of those to whom
they had been written.

Lady Picard-Oneiroi,

I trust that your adventures have served you well
in your time among the horde of the Dungeon.
However, I have need of your services in Verminasia
once more. Return immediately and we will meet to
discuss.

Marcaus Madaur
General of the Royal
Verminasian Army
Count of Markon

Ashbie let her fingers slide across the smooth skin of her cheek. She had
gotten used to the dim lighting of the Dungeon's stronghold. She rarely,
if ever, participated in the fray. When she'd left to join their number,
ashamed and beaten by a worthy foe back home, she had imagined of the
grand fights that awaited her. Ashbie had always felt whole when fighting,
it was as much a part of her nature as anything else.

However, the fray did not deliver on its promises. Ashbie would awake to
find only one or two of her comrades ready to fight. She would venture out
in search of her own entertainment, only to be set upon by her enemies.
The Knights, the thugs in Justice, even the Elves, All of them were just
as bloodthirsty as any Ravager from the Dungeon.

And the numbers.

Ashbie shook her head to the side, freeing some of her honey blonde hair to
fall across her vision. A simple breath removed the errant hair to where it
belonged. She reached up and tucked it behind her ears, first the right
side and then the left. She never let go of the letter though.

She was being called back home. It was exactly what she wanted, and yet
she felt the deepest sense of foreboding. One question dominated her
thoughts...

Why?




Writer: Ashbie

Date Sat Jul 25 22:12:17 2015




Writer: Lei'raylat
Date Sun Jul 26 02:18:35 2015




Writer: Lei'raylat
Date Sun Jul 26 02:19:39 2015




Writer: Lira
Date Sun Jul 26 14:46:52 2015

To All RP IMM

Subject The End of the Past



Lira held in her right hand the only memory she had left of the life she
once knew. The times her father took her to the fields to make sure the
workers were not mistreated, the time he taught her how to ride his prized
white stallion, the days they would have picnics in the orchard, just him
and her.

She arrived at her destination, at the Great Tree in Arkane, she did not
want to take the trip to Shokono again, she wished to never look back. Her
hand tightened around the item as indecision filled her heart. The last
reminder of what was, of the manor, of her father. He had given it to her
long ago to always remember her heritage and what it meant. She was the
last. No male heir was born in the family. Their heritage stopped with
her.

Lira opens her hand to look at the small gold family crest and sighed
heavily, the memories of her father flooding her mind, "Father, you had
always been there for me and have taught me everything I know. I will
cherish every memory and keep them with me alway. I know you will always be
watching over me." She brings the crest to her lips and kisses it lightly
before throwing it in the ocean. Her final farewell to the past and now to
face a new future.





Writer: Dyrfinna

Date Sun Jul 26 17:32:22 2015




Writer: Dyrfinna
Date Sun Jul 26 17:58:00 2015




Writer: Gholbine
Date Sun Jul 26 21:18:36 2015




Writer: Gholbine
Date Sun Jul 26 21:22:06 2015




Writer: Gholbine
Date Sun Jul 26 21:30:44 2015




Writer: Azjuhb
Date Sun Jul 26 23:29:40 2015

To All Pitheuis Ferg IMM KYRI RP Bloodlust

Subject Reflections of an Orc (Part Three)



Some time had now passed since the Warlord had approached the Orc about
the treaty and understanding forged between the glorious Elf of Death,
Pitheuis, who had committed acts of High Treason against his own kind: One
of which being the savage burning of a large number of small elven children
to their untimely deaths in their beds while they slept and there had now
been adequate time to reflect upon the activiteis of this elf and its
relationship with the Dungeon.

The Orc stood musing with these thoughts in his head, delicately scraping
some remaining hair from his armpits. He had already shaved his chest
with a delightfully sharpened blade, trimmed his pubic hair, and shaved
the stubble from the side of his head leaving nothing but the spiked
Mohawk on top. He started at the mirror before him inspecting his work.
Nice and smooth, the Orc thought to itself. He reached absentmindedly for
one of the many oils he enjoyed slathering himself down with and began to
apply it liberally to his nude form, aggressively working the oil into
hiskin. This particular bottle was formed from some of the rarest herbs
that could be found in Shokono - and blended together to create an odd
musk like odour which was both pleasant to the scent and to the taste.
If anyone were to lick this Orc they would be pleasurably surprised by
the gentle but delectable mixture of fragrant aromas and subtle tastes.

The Orc completed his task with a mere few drops of this fine oil and
gazed, impressed, at the result in the mirror. A sort of a satin gloss
finish to the skin. Mild aroma. Grease free. Affected in a positive
fashion the Orc attached a label to the bottle and producing a piece of
coloured chalk wrote upon the label "Beach Walk" additionally noting in
finer print: Infused with natural essential oils, Beach Walk fragrance
oil is the purest and most concentrated form of the rare herbs gathered
from Shokono. Use lightly warmed by hand and apply sparingly to skin
post steam bath.

He replaced the bottle on the shelf with an assortment of other similarly
labelled bottles. He thought to himself that if he were ever to get bored
of slaying cowardly Elves and the wretchedly pathetic Knighthood that this
could be turned into a profitable business endeavour. But no matter now.

The Orc walked through the halls of the DUngeon to the common area and
stood looking at the various specimens of life that stood in the room or
lay resting in some of the hammocks. Fascinating, he thought to himself.
There is even a disgusting Troll here which does absolutely nothing. He
looked at the Barbarian with contempt in his eyes. This creature loitered
for considerable lengths of time in the Dungeon and participated solely
in the games of Algoron but never really ventured forth to aid in combat.
It made him sick to look at it. He cast his gaze elsewhere. The Orc
had trouble tolerating this disgraceful Troll. He secretly took pleasure
in its death.

The Orc pushed past the commons to the Room of Worship where he sat down
heavily upon one of the chairs that lined a massive stone slab which
served as a table. Lighting an oversized candle reminiscent of his own
savage manhood he kicked his feet up on the slab and leaned back in his
chair, producing a MInotaur horn pipe and stuffing it with some potent
greenleaf. The Orc allowed the aroma of this fine herb to list in the
air briefly before applying the flame from the candle flame to it. He
sucked at the pipe deeply, lost in thought, allowing the rich flavour
to enter his mouth and lungs before expelling it, blowing small but
perfect smoke rings into the air. The Orc heard coughing from the commons
to the west and inwardly chuckled. Probably that pansy of a Troll.

The Orc produced a stack of papers and perused through them, All the while
lavishly smoking on his pipe. He reached a hand to his groin and scratched
himself absentmindedly. Itches of this kind were common after heavily




Writer: Azjuhb
Date Mon Jul 27 00:48:24 2015

To All Pitheuis Ferg IMM KYRI RP Bloodlust

Subject Reflections of an Orc (Part Four)



The Orc separated a few leaves of paper and spread them out in front of him
and produced a quill he had fashioned from the feather of one of the Ariels
he had put out of their incessantly screeching misery. He began to write:

Today was a day of glory for the Dungeon. I have spent the majority of
the sunlit hours and went deep into the depths of the darkness with the
Warlord Ferg. From the miserable Gareth Keep, unceremoniously slathered
in as much sheep wool as would be needed to create clothing for each and
every orphaned child (the ones Pitheuis hasn't already burned to death)
in the land, to the urine soaked forest of the ELves - we have left a
myriad of slain corpses with their body parts and entrails hewn from
our fallen enemies from one side of the land to the other. Tired of the
same scenery we eventually ventured forth to Arkania where the Warlord
Ferg led us once more to glorious battle. He even demonstrated his
proficiency at laying traps, and set one which a few dim-witted and
self-soiling Elves gated straight into and were soon added to the great
numbers of dead from our days slaughter. The smell from the released
bowels of our enemies became distracting at last, and due to the swarms
of flies eventually it was decided we should retire and cleanse ourselves
to be fresh for battle another day. The musings of the day are not why
I have lifted my quill however, as I must touch on another subject.

The subject deals with the Pitheuis, a name which I am still somewhat
uncertain as to how to pronounce.

The Orc laughed quietly to himself, for Pitheuis to him should be said
as 'Pity Us'. At least so he thought. An apt name for a creature as
degraded and miserable as an Elf. Their kind continued to disgust the Orc
to great lengths and it took All of his will power and self control just
to avoid throwing himself upon the ones that lived within the same Halls
that he did. He bit his lip and continued to write:

The Pitheuis has for some weeks now been fighting alongside the Dungeon
and has been proving himself to be an extremely valuable ally. Not only
has he answered All of my questions regarding Bladesong and its abilities,
the length of duration and such, but has also led me through the forest
of the ELves and shown me where many Elves like to cower and soil
themselves from fear of combat. He has spoken of the cowardice within
the Vallens and of the weak leadership, of the gross incompetence of many
of the other Bladesingers that dwell in the forest - and of the reasons
for his departure from this particularly depressing and worthless group
of individuals. I cannot blame him for I have oft thought that were
I born an Elf myself I likely would have offed myself decades ago upon
the realization that my kind did not deserve to exist.

Thus to glory this one Elf has turned, and by burning the bridges that
would allow him passage back to the dreaded urine-soaked trees of the forest
he has demonstrated himself to be truly black of heart. There is no
turning back now. I will continue to observe the actions of this Elf,
but must state for my own record that I have seen him throw himself upon
those of the Vallens with as much fervor and hatred as I would myself.
I even came to find him once standing over the slain body of one of his
former mates, frothing at the mouth as if some rabid animal. With eyes
ablaze Pitheuis was repeatedly stabbing this fallen Elf relentlessly.
It was All I could do to get Pitheuis to stop, and only then by explaining
that he was foolishly blunting a weapon by driving it through this corpse
into the ground when it should be left sharp to pierce the next of his
victims. As I have learned from this Elf and will continue to do so, it
too will learn from me. I am looking forward to continued combat with
this deranged creature for clearly it has the spirit of the Dungeon.




Writer: Milleuda

Date Mon Jul 27 17:37:45 2015




Writer: Eszka

Date Mon Jul 27 17:49:52 2015

To All Arkane Fynix ( Imm Rp )

Subject Restless Wings



Eszka soared above the oceans watching the waves. It was nice to have
the only sounds of the surf and breeze. She felt so strange today, she woke
up late again. She could not seem to shake off her tiredness. She thought
she might be ill, but she had been cured of the plague several times.
Perhaps, it was just wearing her down. Or perhaps it was the Ball, staying
up entirely too late. Even though she felt a little sleepy, she was
restless and so she flew.

The world was peaceful from so high in the air. One could not see the
differences of any people. The lands looked calm. There was no plague to
worry about, just the blissful sounds of wind and the distant waves below
her. Her skin was flushed again, she felt very warm suddenly and banked,
giving slow lazy flaps and circling the currents until she landed in the
Great Tree in Arkane. Taking shade within its enormous boughs, she perched,
letting her dark iridescent wings fan from her back, the teasing gusts
playing through her feathers. She could not understand her overheated body,
she like she had been flying the world three times over. She pressed the
back of her hand to her cheeks, feeling very odd.

She stood on the bough forty some feet above the ground and let the wind
push against her, leaned forward and dropped, passing branches and opening
her iridescent black wings to slow to landing to the ground. Her dark
indigo eyes searched over the ocean. Her mouth lifted into a decisive
smile. She would travel to Icewall.

She beat her great dark wings, lifting herself easily into the air, soaring
in to horizon.




Writer: Ashbie

Date Mon Jul 27 21:49:02 2015

To Verminasia All Marcaus Immortal Roleplay KWARS

Subject Raising Hell: Prelude of the Storm III


"Commander."

Ashbie FELT the hush fall as the dimly lit room gathered into silence once
more. It was as if Marcaus had commanded the room to silence rather than
simply become quiet. One word. Marcaus Madaur was never a man to go on at
length when a few words would suffice. Ashbie was used to it, and yet the
word he'd uttered. Ashbie looked up at Marcaus with wide eyes. It was rare
for anyone to catch her surprised.

Marcaus betrayed no signs of surprise himself. Though rare for Ashbie, she
suspected that he was used to the facial expressions that went along with
surprise or shock. He had mastered his own expressions as far as Ashbie
knew. She could not recall having ever seen him smile or cry. He was like
a statue, carved out of the most rigid of stone.

"That is what I need from you." Marcaus offered after a long moment. He
spoke slowly, as if offended that Ashbie had not been able to pick up on
his own thoughts, while, at the same time, giving her the distinct
impression that he could read her own.

There were some who had such an ability. However, Marcaus had never given
her any inclination to believe he had that power. While she was not great
in her magical prowess, her will was like an iron wall. A probe into her
own thoughts would have been felt. Marcaus was not reading her mind. He
was simply that good at reading her face.

Ashbie sighed and rubbed her palm up her face, fingers splaying out fully
by the time her hand met her hairline. "When I left..." She began, but
then she paused. Marcaus was not a man who was impressed by
self-deprecation. He expected confidence. He demanded winners. Shaking her
head slightly, Ashbie continued. "You told me to leave. I've always been
drawn to the sea. Now you want me back as a Commander of the Royal
Verminasian Army?"

"Precisely so." Marcaus said in response. His dark eyes flickered, but
revealed nothing. Was he judging her unworthy already? Or perhaps he was
irritated that she did not think herself suitable as he had. Maybe he was
just waiting for her to accept so he could move on to his meal. It was
right around supper time after all.

The room that Marcaus had summoned her to was sparsely furnished. It was a
room designed for the express purpose of planning war. There were no food
provisions. It wasn't a meeting over lunch. Ashbie's stomach churned,
reminding her that she was hungry too. Or perhaps she was nervous about
what he wanted.

"Why me?" Ashbie finally ventured. It was a reasonable enough question. It
was succinct, as Marcaus liked, and allowed just enough doubt without
actually betraying any. It was a question that even the most confident
person might ask, if only to get the other person thinking more about them.

"You have experience. You're dedicated. Loyal. These are the things I need
from you." It was a fair amount more than she had gotten from Marcaus in
consecutive fashion. And for All that it was still as abrupt as his manner.
It was neat and tidy. It left plenty of questions for Ashbie to ask
herself, but All of them she could answer. It was a conclusion to their
conversation as well.

The hidden statement in his words was simple, "Accept or don't. Not
accepting would be a regrettable mistake."

Ashbie swallowed and nodded once. "I will have my answer to you tomorrow
morning."

Marcaus considered her response only half a moment, then gave a curt nod
and rose. "I wait for it."

Even though she had known Marcaus for the entirety of her young life,
Marcaus' impressive height never ceased to amaze her. Ashbie was tall for
a woman, and yet, among men, Marcaus stood above even more. She had seen
bigger and brawnier creatures than the former King, but few of them cut
quite as striking a figure as he did in All of his height.

Without another word, Marcaus turned and left. Ashbie remained, forced to
consider far more than she bargained for.




Writer: Taggett

Date Tue Jul 28 23:10:14 2015

To All Nordmaar Megan Reagan Quinlan Kantilles Imm *RP*

Subject The Mistake



It was one of the hottest places she knew on Icewall. Right now she
needed the warmth, she was feeling so cold inside. Taggett Silverwolfe was
resting in the garden of the Crystal Monastery. The beauty helped, being
close to Kantilles helped. There was a heavy sickness in her heart, and as
much as she tried to ignore it, it kept beating along with the broke pieces
of her feelings. The Highland Princess had been venomous in her speech.
Had she it was suppose to be a secret she wouldnt have gone to the dice game
in Nordmaar. She would never made the mistake of leaning over and asking
the Queen to speak in private.

Wench Taggett couldnt remember ever being called such a name. It hurt more
only because shed known the Princess before Taggett had met the girls
brother. Before the crush had started to turn into a different kind of
feeling. It frightened the Life Mage. The idea of trying to be normal,
when everything about her was something completely different.

The problem had come from some record. Taggett scowled at the ground, shed
spent her time in Nordmaar serving, doing what everyone else had done.
Perhaps, shed had more adventures, trouble had followed her more then
others. Shed been informed there was record of a banishment by someone of
her name. They didnt know what clan shed been in. It had to be some lie.
As if she was being blamed for something from some other Taggett from some
other realm. When Nordmaar was first established to be very much of this
realm.

Her sadness turned into a bit of anger, which she never liked feeling. The
princess had accused her of wanting wealth, of wanting to be a princess.
How simply annoying, didnt she know, she had been a princess. She also had
more then enough wealth being a Silverwolfe. Her feelings for him had
nothing to do with stupid politics. She cursed the thought silently.

She cursed herself, why had she made it so obvious. Why had she asked to
talk to anyone. If he said he wouldnt have been banished he knew what he
was talking about. At least until shed showed up and made a mess of All of
it. Starting into the wilds of All the different plants of Algoron she
prayed to Kantilles, she prayed that it would All work out in the light of
the white moon.

He was her storm starter, they were fire and ice..




Writer: Reagan

Date Tue Jul 28 23:33:23 2015




Writer: Gabhran

Date Wed Jul 29 00:19:52 2015




Writer: Nierwyld

Date Wed Jul 29 12:25:22 2015

To All Conclave White_Robes Tyrinx Kantilles Imm Religion RP

Subject The Dusting : A Tale of Voyage (Part 1)



Nierwyld stood next to the wheel, looking through his telescoping lens at
junker. His men had scoured the coast of Tropica for this damned ship, and
here it was, floating off of Zaven. Damn informants can't get their
bunghole plugged right if they sat on it.

He put the lens back to his eye and grinned, the junker's sails were still
down. The Dusting's yellow sails would help them this morning. The sun
rose up behind them as Nierwyld lifted his hand for full sails, the command
whispered through the ship lest their voices carry over the morning waters.

His grin widened as he felt the cutter lurch forward, his crew already
aiming the mortars, the broadside's loaded, and the chaser's ready.

'Alright, bucko's. This one's been transportin' to the Warp! Burn 'em
down. Send 'em to the depths, cut their bellies open and let 'em smile
wide! Loot their goods and give no quarter!
"

The ting of the bell marked the time.

Drawing his blades the little pixie flit to the bow, standing among the bow
lines. 'GIVE 'EM NO MERCY BOYS! 'S DEATH ON THE WIND!
BANGARAAAAAAAAAANG!"


The cutter rocked slightly as the mortars fired off, their fire crashing
over the junker. Their bells rang out as their sails lifted. They'd have
back up sooner rather than later, but if he could take them out, he'd be
able to fade away into the morning sun.

His cutter closed the distance as they came up along side the junker, orc's
were the main crew, but a few humans and even a gnome were on deck.

A fireball flew past his head as the gnome hid behind the human.

'THEY WANNA BE PLAYIN' WITH FIRE BOYS! RESPOND IN KIND! '

This time the little ship tipped more than rocked as the whole port side
cannons fired, ripping through the junker's hull and crew alike.

"BRING 'EM CLOSE FOR A STEELY KISS! " was Nierwyld's order as he flit
across from ship to ship, his feet slamming into the first orc and sending
him flying. Dust and grenades flew from the little pixie, scattering back
the defenders, allowing his crew to climb aboard.

(to be continued)




Writer: Gabhran

Date Wed Jul 29 22:57:11 2015




Writer: Azjuhb

Date Thu Jul 30 13:10:28 2015

To All Pitheuis Ferg IMM KYRI RP Bloodlust

Subject The Life of an Orc (Part One)



It was a sticky summer night. The humidity in the air clung to ones skin
like the splatter from recently disembowelled intestines from an Elf. Except
where beads of sweat ran from ones skin in a repeat process, the entrails
would stick to your flesh and armor like some sort of twisted black drying
fruit. Their smell equally horrific, the entrails would often leave a black
venomous looking stain on the Orcs platemail. He would work for hours while
recovering from battle, with a special blended oil, to work these from his
armor. Irritated by any small scratches or nicks in said armor, the Orc
would spend countless hours tapping them out and polishing until the
blemishes had gone. Dragonskin armor was easy to repair, and rarely if ever
showed damage. The arcanium pieces, on the other hand, were a different
story. The Orc sat dressed in nothing but a loin cloth, his black oiled
skin glimmering with the soft glow from the burning torches. The Orc
adjusted himself.

* * *

He had just finished learning the language of the Yaeini and was not that
impressed by what he had learned. It was a strange gutteral language,
steeped in tradition and ages of culture. A savage animal-like race, the
Yaeini had surged in power several times over the ages and were onde of
the elder races. The Orc cast his eyes downwards and looked at himself,
sadly shaking his head. He was fairly convinced that the Yaeini were a
failed experiment by the Gods, who had then decided to let the creatures
exist as a cruel joke. He had been through the city of Serpantol and seen
the signs of a long forgotten history. Of a proud and noble race of beasts
who had long since fallen into utter disrepute and destitution. The barking
voice, slobbering drooling mouth and long tongues... the beady eyes. Not
to mention the hair! Definitely a joke.

He nodded his head in self agreement, pleased that he was capable of seeing
the facts as they were, in a practical sense.

Earlier in the day the Orc had been found by the Warlord Ferg. He had been
enjoying a little downtown in the bath houses of the New Thalosians. When
the Warlord had burst in open him, in one of the more private chambers,
he had been enjoying some time with two lovely young ladies he had met
earlier that day. The one lay sweating and in a half dressed state on the
stone slabs surrounding the bath. The other, seemingly unconcious, lay
propped against a stone pillar with her head hanging between her knees.
The scent of fragrant oils hung heavily in the air.

"What are you doing?" demanded the voice of the Warlord.

A grunt came as a reply, but the Orc sat straight up and wiped the sweat
from his face with the palm of his hand. The Orc pointed to the girl
leaning against the pillar.

"I think I broke that ones neck." the Orc said with some regret.
"It is an utter shame. Look at her!" He gestered expressively towards
the young lady. There came a heavy sigh.

The Warlord looked at the Orc, half with disgust, and half amused. "When
you have finished cleaning up here, I require your presence."

(continued next note)




Writer: Azjuhb

Date Thu Jul 30 13:21:58 2015

To All Pitheuis Ferg IMM KYRI RP Bloodlust

Subject The Life of an Orc (Part Two)



As Azjuhb began to clean up he discovered that the girl who was possibly
no longer breathing had in fact expired. To make the situation worse, the
second girl - who had since slid back into a bathrobe and now sat crying
near the first - was in fact her cousin. The Orc could tell that the two
girls came from a poverty stricken family and feeling somewhat responsible
slide a generous amount of jeweled eggs into a sack. Walking up to the
crying girl he looked down at her sorrowful, watery blue eyes, and dropped
the sack into her lap. "My condolences, it was unintentional." The
Orc nodded his head and walked from the bath houses, stopping to apologize
to the owner and leave a small bribe to excuse the unfortunate events. He
threw a robe on over his body and grabbed a few containers that were holding
his belongings and shifted off, robe open in the wind exposing his loin
cloth underneath in the now early morning air.

A crisp glimmer of golden red light rose from the horizon as the Orc
approached the Dungeon, backlighting the crisp morning air. The bath house
had done an excellent service to his armor he could tell, as the stench
of death and decay could not be smelled from the containers in which they
sat. He made his way through to the commons and dropped his belongings.
There was a Warlock there, running frantically between the shelf and the
cauldron, furiously brewing foul smelling liquids and capturing them in
gourds which were immediately stashed away into their respective spaces.
A Skald rested on a hammock nearby, the dreaded Shawn in this particular
case, half caught between savagely annihilating his enemies and belittling
them for attacking in excessive numbers. A curious creature, with a very
respectable knowledge of the lands. The Orc liked the Shawn, most of the
time. The last specimen he observed was an elven Druid. Confused yet
search of the Warlord.
reliable, this half frail creature seemed lost in thought. Azjuhb
'accidentally' kicked it as he walked by.

"My apologies." muttered the Orc. He moved on from the commons in
search of the Warlord.

There he sat, plump from his last meal, looking at him through dark eyes.
Discussion fell to the little matters of the Dungeon, as befitting the
Underlords rank, and the usual tasks were delegated to him. Conversation
gradually came to an end, and the Orc began to turn away and exist the
chambers of the Warlord.

"One last thing, Underlord. But tell me what you were doing with those
two girls in the bath house?" the Warlord asked him with a tone of
piqued curiosity.

Soft laughter came from the Orc.

"Seeking pleasure."

The Warlord looked at him, clearly interested in the entire story. The
Orc sighed.

"Very well,", he said, "I shall begin."

(continued next note)




Writer: Eszka

Date Thu Jul 30 13:27:57 2015

To All Arkane Fynix ( Sunny Imm RP )

Subject The Ardurae



The reason she felt so strange and so restless lay deep within, hardly
bigger than a bean yet the impact of its presence shook her with
trepidation. The Life Mage, Taggett had seen it within her, her magic
sensing the life, the growing son. It was an occasion for celebration and
Taggett seemed to take charge, which Eszka did not mind. She was still very
tired, but pleased as well. This child would ensure another generation of
Ariel.

She thought about her own parents, the care and attention they gave her and
tried to remember the language of her childhood, before the flames, before
Haven. She would teach her child what she could of the Ariel ways. A
thrill went through her as she placed a hand against her belly, 'Tre'misa'.


Her own child! Well, her and Fynixs child, she corrected. Her mind jumbled
with too many emotions, All overwhelming. She gave a little sigh.
Everything would be well. There were many friends to rely on and give her
aid.

She went back to the Inn, bought a key and made her way to the room, sleep
was coming again. So very sleepy, she would rest and try to write a missive
to Fynix, try to explain what had gone on, try to dissuade her own fears.




Writer: Azjuhb

Date Thu Jul 30 13:43:57 2015

To All Pitheuis Ferg IMM KYRI RP Bloodlust

Subject The Life of an Orc (Part Three)



The Orc sat down on the edge of the Warlords table and began to speak.

"It had been a long glorious day of battle. Fighting in the Keeps and out
in the field had eventually found me alone with nothing more than the
Pitheuis. Normally against our enemies this could be a concerning
number, but I have learned to trust the fury of this Elfsh. The scraps
of the army that we had thrown ourselves upon had All but vanished, leaving
a few stragglers behind hiding and looking for the way to be clear to
make their exit. We spied an Elfsh lurking in the shadows and sprung upon
it. With a rage I seldom see in combatants the Pitheuis threw itself
upon the nasty little bugger and laid it out. Bleeding profusely I
could already see the fear in its eyes and a dampening wet patch forming
in its loins which indicated it had lost All stomach for the battle."

The Orc paused here for dramatic effect and stared at the Warlord.

"I quickly wielded my largest and sharpest of axes and fell upon the
fragile creature, swinging my axe in a giant cleave and disembowelling it,
bringing the fatal blow down cleanly accross its neck. The skirt of the
helmet and neck chockers snapped like dried twigs in late summer, and its
head was hewn clear from its body. I remember the sad, confused expression
in its rueful, soulless eyes as my axe decapitated it, and the dull thud
that followed as the head hit the ground. The newly formed corpse fell
forward to its knees, blood gushing from its neck in rhythmic but slowing
pulses. It lurched forward and fell chest first to the ground. At this
point I looked up to see Pitheuis running off in pursuit of the remaining
victims of battle, but this last Elfsh had half exploded as it died,
showering me in a mixture of blood, intestines, brains and feces. I
could stomach it no longer."

The Orc began to shift his gaze uneasily around the room.

"Well, Warlord, as you know I like to keep my person excessively clean
and free for debris. So I took my leave of the scene of battle leaving
it in the capable hands of the Pitheuis and headed to New Thalos to
take advantage of their bath houses. I had shed my armor and climbed in
wearing nothing more than a silver chain and a loin cloth and had begun
my normal cleaning and relaxation routines. It was then that I noted those
two girls, twittering away, in a nearby bath. I took a look at their
scantily clad forms and struck up a conversation."

The Orc nodded its head furiously. Then gesticulated with his hand.

"A pillow fight! That's what caused that girls death. I had suggested
we retire to a more private bath and enjoy the evening properly. Gentle
Elven wine, perhaps some Dwarven ales, and one of the little things
suggested we make use of the pillows that lie around for patrons to rest
on. Before long we were sweating profusely, laughing, and smashing each
each other as hard as we could with those soft pillows. As the grunting
and groans became louder with each passing hit, the excitement and rush
from the soft pillow fight carried me away, and I wielded the pillows as
I would an axe in combat. It was in a moment of semi drunken haze that
I made full contact with the one girl, and struck her with the pillow much
as I had that Elfsh with an axe earlier. She flew through the air, and
crumbled like a sack of rotten potatoes against the pillar and expired
from this world."

The Orc shrugged and gazed at the Warlord, who stared with some measure of
disbelief at the story. The Warlord nodded its animal-like head and said
"I see. Carry on."

The Orc nodded and took his leave of the Warlord, thoughts of remorse running
rampant in his mind. Now the question, to return to battle and work out
the mild cast of depression he was suffering from? Return to the bath houses
to see if he could console the cousin? Or just go back to the oils....




Writer: Gabhran

Date Thu Jul 30 20:58:04 2015




Writer: Phred

Date Fri Jul 31 12:17:00 2015




Writer: Tanuki

Date Sun Aug 2 00:15:53 2015




Writer: Phred

Date Sun Aug 2 21:26:11 2015




Writer: Gabhran

Date Sun Aug 2 21:29:01 2015

To All Nordmaar Imm RP

Subject The Love of Work


It had been a hellacious week, with Gabhran busting his arse cleaning
every square inch of the kingdom, finishing his training and helping out
others do so as well, entertaining important visitors to the city, and
continuing the onslaught of words from his kinsmen.

He was tired from the ceaseless tasks, the faux adoration, the cajoulling
and the mockery. This week was lasting forever. He was then tasked to
clean the fountain within the shrine, and in doing so was meticulously
scrubbing the fountain when Phred asked him to remember his old bardic
lifestyle and to come out with a song about love. Gabhran had no real
experience to draw from. As a lad of nine summers he was sent to Shokono to
learn under the tutelage of the monks at the Bamboo Temple. There he
learned military skills, tactics, discipline, and how to use his mind as
effectively as his body in war and in life. There were not a lot of young
maidens in a monastery. The only woman he had ever seen for the majority of
his adolescence was the Shoknonese woman who trekked to the monastery to
bring goods and supplies to the brothers within.

So when Phred had asked him to sing a song about love, there was little to
draw upon. He knew things he had loved. There were plenty of those, but he
didn't had that young love experience to draw upon. He loved fighting, he
loved his family, he loved weapons and his faith, and he loved...

He stopped his train of thought and sat down on the bench. He knew the song
about true love he would speak. As Phred played her instrument, Gabhran
spoke the words outloud.

"There once was two bunnies, so tiny an' small, who liv'd in tha' forrest
an' 'ad no cares at all"

"They were ne'vr apart, this fine little pair, they stayed in their burrow,
safe in their lair"


"As fall turn'd to wint'r, and then changed to spring, tha' bunnies grew
restless, wish'd they 'ad wings"


"They wait'd an' wait'd fer tha' snow to thaw, an burst out in tha'
sunshine, an' met wit' tooth an claw"


"'A large wolf did greet them when they burs' from tha' ground, 'e snarled
and snapped at "


"But tha' bunnies 'ad grown to enormou's proportions, tha' wolf nay know 'ow
to divide 'is contortions"


"An' tha' large bunnies dazzled 'im, made 'im confused, till tha' wolf
couldn' take it' and laid down an' snoozed"


"Tha' bunnies 'opped off, as always side by side, an' stayed close togeth'r
from mornin' till night"


"So tha' moral o' the story, for All lads an' lasses, is to understan' love
comes in varieties o' fashion"


"For some it bae fame, an' fer other's it bae monies"

"But fer most wolfs o' the world, it bae a 'uge pair o bunnies"

If there was ever a song about love, this would be it. Gabhran smiled,
happy with the twisted words, but understanding that the world needs huge
bunnies. There are a lot of wolves out there.

He couldn't wait till this week was over, if it ever will be.




Writer: Taggett

Date Sun Aug 2 22:10:46 2015

To All Nordmaar Arkane Palquinn Vampires Imm *RP*

Subject Likable Lies



Taggett lauged, it was warm. The sun of Tropica gleamed, it felt good
across her ghost white nose. It was as if the elements played much interest
to her body these days. The Conclave had taught her many important
lessons.. An education, a place that the greatest minds of Algoron had
learned to ride in the river that was magic, and harness it, shape it as
best they could to their command. A few well placed protection spells could
destroy the most power attacks of the deadliest brawlers of the divided
lands.

Palquinn was there, as usual her she was, her every dream since awaking.
This Palquinn was a little different perhaps it was in how she carried
herself. A frightening feeling overtook Taggett. Something she hadnt
thought of. What if she had brought her friend back wrong? There was a
deep sigh in the pit of her stomach. It wasnt like she brought her friend
back to life. It was a simple enough spell if meant. It took something
else to will it upon her friend. To keep them alive from the explosive cone
of flames that tore through the forest. What an idea, to steal a book.
Secrets stolen from the Conclave were meant for certain death. She wasnt
ever promised the secrets of invocation. It handnt been one of her better
ideas to borrow that book.

Taggett tossed herself at the sandy ground. Her shield magic pushed deep
into the sand and she heald tight against it. Sometimes if she turned
herself to stone and smashed a shield against the ground she would turn
herself invisible just to feel safe protected and alone. She couldnt care
right now if he liked her. He was busy, she was banned or something. A
sudden annoyance hit the the back of her mind. Perhaps it was the giant
bugs of Tropica. It made her second guess her dream. Who wanted to go to
Tropica when it was humid and for the most part a jungle nightmare. Shed
much sooner go to someplace like Shokono. Palquinn was splashing at the
edge of a silver cast pond. The white moon skidded across the surface thast
rippled a tar black.

She was sick of being sorry, she was sick of it not being okay to not want
to forgive everyone. Why did she have to be sorry for being surprised
vampires had suddenly become the normal thing in every day life. Shed
always remained under the impression The Vampire, killed the host, replacing
it with a demon. This then leads to the question, can not then a Daemon
have the ability to ration, to act in the freedom of not a good of bad,
right or wrong. Taggett scoffed, it still doesnt mean the creature will
not, is not lent to the darkness. It was the serpents way in. Not by
sneaking or fooling, but being considered life, a creature like a snake,
strong, dangerous. Something different in a demon as far as shed ever
experienced and met. She was tired, tired of apologizing for her feelings,
but it never seemed to matter how other people acted toward her.

If he didnt still care about her, she needed to let it go. The stakes would
be high for him, it would be more then enough to scare anyone away. A
strength filled her heart, she was not some little girl even if she looked
like it. It was a frightening reality that you could never shake your past,
not even with hundreds of years between then and now. They could ban her
from the kingdom, but they couldnt change the blood that flowed through her
was very much Highland in origin. The forces of darkness could twist and
spin anything they wanted, but it would never alter the light she walked in.


Palquinn, Taggett looked at the kender. Her friend turned her head slowly,
there was something different in the kenders eyes. A strange, nearly
frightening smile warped Palquinns features. There was something malicious
to it. Inhaling Taggett sat up. It was still night. He still wasnt there.




Writer: Etoile

Date Mon Aug 3 07:55:50 2015




Writer: Kotone

Date Mon Aug 3 09:02:14 2015

To All servants of ( Fatale ) Imm RP Religion

Subject -{{Whispers on the Wind}-


Kotone was enraptured.

Upon her kimono, her socks and geta, upon her face and hands, and upon the
sword she had taken up was fresh, crimson blood. The red, ranging from ruby
to burgandy, glittered in the light of the day, more entrancing than any gem
she had ever known in her life. She had seen jewels, precious stones and
metals, marbles and granites and crystals with prismatic flecks, but nothing
compared to the sight she now admired. The blood was warm, but cooling,
slowly dripping from her flesh, soaking hungrily into her kimono and
changing the color of the midnight blue lotus upon it.

As she looked up from her hands and sword to the bodies that were about her,
a smile tugged at her lips. They were neatly arranged, of course. She had
seen to folding their hands over their chests, closing their eyes, and
placing the toll of silver upon their closed lids. Even so, some of them
bore their death grimaces, their flesh pale where it was not stained with
the Red Essence. The fights had been one sided, but none of her opponents
had chosen to flee. They had proven their honor, and the respect such feats
of bravery and dignity earned them.

A slight tremor ran through Kotone as she kneeled down upon the grass and
began to clean off her borrowed blade. She would have preferred the blood
remain on the weapon, but it was not hers to keep, so she would clean it,
oil it, and see to the nicks within the blade until she was done using it.
As her hands performed the task, rhythmic and sure - drawing upon the
memories of her childhood, she allowed her mind to wander where it would,
though a small part of her remained alert for dangers.

Whispers on the wind.

That was how it had begun. All of it. Whispers on the wind had spoken of
greater purpose so many years ago. She had left her homeland of Dojia, left
her role as a high ranking court official, left her family and All she had
ever known, All for the sake of the Lord. The words of glory, of service
and honor, had inspired her heart. They had caused her blood to stir in
ways she had not felt since childhood and learning of the day she would bear
the Ring of the Abyss.

She had traveled to Abaddon, the lands and kingdom of Fatale, as a young
woman. She had made friends, aided allies in their pursuit of strength, and
even helped rescued a man she had fleeting love for from the grasp of
slavers. She had been one of the first to explore the Black Waters, she had
adopted a son and watched him grow from young boy into manhood, giving him a
proper and well-earned Dojian name to carry with their Family Name. Then,
Sereb had disappeared, walking into the Abyss freely - a reward for his
long, dedicated service. Slowly, one by one, those she had known and cared
for also departed to one task or another. She, herself, spent more and more
time in the Shadows, her form neither real, nor fathomless, as she gave
herself up to the powers of the Ring, waiting.

Whispers on the wind.

They had come from her homeland, the lands of Dojia. Rumors and hushed
gossip, filled with news that the Guilds were in preparation, that they
would again open their doors to those worthy of seeking them. First, she
had wept in joy. No matter the years or the distance, her heart had always
remained with the lands that had given birth to her ancestors, had uplifted
them as samurai and proper servants to Fatale. When she had finished
weeping for All the reasons and emotions that filled her heart, she had
ascended from the Shadows into Abaddon, though it was not where she would
remain.

She had discarded all, donated all, stripped herself of every worldly thing
and then had went to her Guild to turn in her resignation. When she had
emerged, her lungs had filled with the air of the swamp, but also new
purpose. Blood would be spilled, enemies either converted or slain. A new
sunset would cloak the land in darkness in Fatale's name.

Whispers on the wind.




Writer: Zola

Date Mon Aug 3 11:15:40 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Darkonin Verminasia Dfedor Fatale

Subject X In the Presence of Divinity X


The air was thinner high up in the mountains. Breathing became
difficult, and movement slowed as Zola gave himself time to adjust to the

elevation and All it entailed. Sunlight beat down upon him, and the winds
whipped at his body, but he ignored both, pressing grimly onwards.


Much as he missed the quiet and darkness of the crypts of Abaddon, or the
Dungeon, this was a necessary pilgrimage he was undertaking. A chance to be
closer to the Gods of Darkness and better understand their divine
truth.
The Prophecy. Unity. Darkness Descending. Above All else, the will of his
master, the Lord of Murder.

The divine truth he worked so tirelessly to spread.

Finally, he reached the summit just as the sun set on the horizon, bathing
the rocks in a reddish glow before the night descended. The three moons
were overhead, a rare occasion when All three
were bright and full. Truly,
this was a time when the Gods presence on Algoron was strongest, short of
when they walked amongst us in their Avatars.


Taking a moment to ensure he was thoroughly alone, Zola drew back his hood
and removed his mask, allowing the divine watchful eyes to see him as he
truly was beneath it. Then, he drifted to his knees
amongst the cold rocks,
meditating, opening his mind and will to that of the Gods of Darkness.


What happened next was All but impossible to describe. It was as though his
soul was torn from his body by a scythe and hurled into a dark void, hot and
dry, filled with howling winds. Zola found himself in conflict with dozens
of other souls, anxious to claim the prizes offered by the Gods. He failed
more often than not, his agonized cries lost on the howling winds, but in
his failure found new strength, reward in and of itself.

He saw indescribable things. The very shape of things to come. Dragons,
demons, angels, and some horrible blue creatures far worse than any of
them.
He saw warriors rise and fall, shadows spring to life, magics none had ever
dreamt of. The death of Gods themselves. The past, the future, and so much
more. It was glorious.


For an instant, Zola saw everything. Understood everything. It was so
beautiful it stole his breath away, how everything was linked like the
strands of a great spider
web. Then just as swifly his mind and soul
returned to his mortal shell.


Rising swiftly to his feet, he nearly stumbled, finding his legs half-asleep
from remaining so long in the same position. He could well have been there
for hours. Perhaps even
days. Ignoring the tingling numbness, he stumbled
his way down the mountainside, heedless of the lack of light. He had much
to do.





Writer: Lira

Date Mon Aug 3 13:38:52 2015




Writer: Erebaal

Date Mon Aug 3 14:13:14 2015

To Chaos All ( Malachive Scorn KWARS )

Subject Exalted



The stirring was more of a feeling than a true sensation, a coloration of
the tainted atmosphere of the Warp. Deep, down within the earth, within the
heart of the catacombs threading the continent of Tropica, something had
happened. The Everchosen had always taken his quarters down there, as long
as anyone had remembered. Even when he had borne a different name, when he
had been simply Erebaal, the Word Bearer, it was a spartan cell within the
earthen tunnels that had kept him. Now he was somebody- something else, a
colossus of a man wearing his title as his name, his life, his motives, and
his identity wrapped into a single word: Everchosen.

The metronomic hammering of plated boots on stone and earth presaged his
arrival. Heavy steps of a warrior's stride alerted those before him of his
passage, and many of the robed caretakers and cultists of the Warp were
herded before his coming. The air itself was charged, was taut with a
momentous weight. Primal energy filled the tunnels, an invisible pressure
that plucked at the most base of senses, the survival instinct that
commanded fear and obedience in the presence of the pack leader. Outward,
the motley lot were pushed, through the tunnels and out to the jungle
clearings that housed the secret tunnel entrances, the back routes into the
labyrinthine underworld of the Warp.

In their dozens, the mob gathered in the clearing, eyes fixed on the
entrance from which they had come. The heavy footfalls continued, carried
on the still air. It felt, almost, as though Tropica itself waited for the
dread arrival. The moments dragged on, heavy with expectation and
respectful awe.

The Everchosen's arrival on the surface of Tropica was no large matter. The
sunlight broke over his armored form as he crossed the threshold of the
tunnel. It was the man himself, however, that shook the hearts of his
followers. About him, like a mantle, radiated a dark glory. A hideous
majesty, invisible to the eye but terrible in its intangible intensity,
followed in his wake and enhanced his every strength, giving a weighty
confidence to his movements. Whatever had happened in the depths of the
Warp had been focused on him, and its influence was spreading.

One cultist stepped forward meekly, his gaze struggling to rise to meet the
Abhorrant's visage of the Everchosen's helm. After a stammering moment, he
ceded and settled for staring at the gruesome iconography of his elaborate
breastplate, 'E-everchosen, my lord. We live and die at your command, for
the Lord of Chaos! You, who have been exalted so, what is your will?
'

The Everchosen stared at his follower mutely, one clawed gauntlet flexing
idly before he turned and marched toward the jungle, toward the heart of the
continent with only a single word, 'Follow. '

The mob obeyed, treading in the wake of the Everchosen, bathing in the
radiance of his fell purpose and his dreadful empowerment. It was at once
repugnant and intoxicating, and it drew the followers of Chaos ever onward,
through the miles of jungle and up the steep paths until the march ended
just as abruptly as it began, atop a cliff that oversaw the long tracts of
jungle that consumed the heart of Tropica, the sprawling pirate port to the
south, the rolling plains to the northwest, and the blighted clearings that
were spreading like a canker through the continent's heart.

The Everchosen raised a clawed gauntlet and took in the expanse before his
followers, before his disciples. His back remained to them all, but his
voice carried, deep and laden with purpose, 'Long, now, have we known this
as our home, from which we strike at the world, but it is not ours. Many
are the enemies who still resist us. The foes who cannot abide our
presence, though they are powerless to expel us in kind. It is time to
change this.
'





Writer: Erebaal

Date Mon Aug 3 14:19:48 2015

To All Chaos ( Scorn Malachive KWARS )

Subject Exalted II


The Everchosen clenched his clawed hand into a fist, the grinding of mail
drawing All eyes to the enchained limb, 'Go forth, my brothers, and bring me
the best soldiers that can be bought and turned. No longer are we a fringe
cult, a perennial threat to Algoron. No longer shall the fear of an entire
world be an intermittent reward for our labors. Algoron shall quake when we
stake our true claim to this land. No longer are we a nuisance to be
disregarded, no longer the periodic terror. We shall be an army, and where
we march, ruin shall follow in our wake.
'

The Everchosen turned now, pointing to his disciples and barking with
irrefutable authority, 'Go now, and return to me with All the men who will
follow. Tropica shall fall to us, and from thence, the world shall know the
terror of our coming.
'

The cultist lot dispersed with the powerful dismissal of the Everchosen and,
alone once more, he turned back toward the cliff to gaze down at the world
which he blighted. He folded his arms across his chest with a squeal of
abused mail and indulged himself the rare, ugly pleasure of a smile, the
anticipatory grimace of the slaughter to come.




Writer: Dewey

Date Mon Aug 3 16:49:03 2015




Writer: Reagan

Date Mon Aug 3 17:13:41 2015




Writer: Taggett

Date Mon Aug 3 17:46:40 2015




Writer: Taggett

Date Mon Aug 3 17:49:29 2015




Writer: Phred

Date Mon Aug 3 20:42:31 2015




Writer: Phred

Date Mon Aug 3 20:42:42 2015




Writer: Gabhran

Date Mon Aug 3 21:42:55 2015

To All Nordmaar Cliath Imm (RP)

Subject Creating Hell


Gabhran felt as if he was in the doldrums, each day running into the next
without and forward progress. Floating from task to task without break,
fulfilling each ridiculous request without hesitation, and bearing it all
with grace. Grace sucks, he discovered.

He may have had a positive upbringing, a good family, and a decent
education, but he was not handed everything on a silver platter. He worked
hard to make Sergeant, and he tirelessly slaved for the Priest to earn coin
for food, drink and armor. He never asked for handouts, and never expected
anything from anyone. To have his birth and bloodline constantly mocked and
pandered to was difficult for him. What people didn't see about the royal
line is the pressures and expectations that comes with it. There were
people constantly testing the mental fortitude of the family, creating
drama, undermining authority, and misrepresenting the people of his
heritage. They were not like the giantess Yu'sara, sitting back and having
oiled servants feeding them grapes as they lay awake. And he's never seen a
MacCallum smile seductively at anyone.

Anything in life can give you lessons learned if you think hard enough.
Gabhran learned some lessons, reinforced others he already knew, and forgot
plenty of things during the mundane maneuverers. What he did discover was
an aspect of being a true follower of Cliath that he never realized until
now. You create your own world.

Gabhran had been accused of many things. He was accused of being an
emotionless being, of being a racist against Yinnae, and close-minded.
Those who have accused do not know the expectations of the royal family, the
long and bloody history the Highlanders and Vikings have with the yinn.
Those who see the views as old and antiquated have not seen the body of a
friend headless on the side of the mountain, nor felt the pain of loss as
their kinsmen were pit against their own people.

In All the accusations, Gabhran compartmentalized it with a silent
understanding and a needed amount of tact within his brain. Though rage at
such bubbled inside at times, he chose grace to try and weather the storm
without ripping others apart, condemning them for their opinions, or
branding their lips together with a hot iron. He wanted to. Gods how he
wanted to.

Gabhran learned quickly that one can create a variety of things. Not only
can you create your own opinions on another, but you can create how you are
going to react to that. In fact, creation was a moment by moment decision.
Creating new opportunities, destroying old ones. Even in the situation he
was in now, he created his own reality to cope with the pressure. He knew
what was at stake, and knew that he started to realize that creation wasn't
just about the physical.

Cliath save him, he needed to create a way to keep going and find some
peace.




Writer: Yurgeon

Date Tue Aug 4 16:45:30 2015




Writer: Taggett

Date Tue Aug 4 19:52:35 2015

To All Palquinn Arkane Imm *RP*

Subject The Necromancer


Taggett winced, it started like something had bitten her a couple of days
ago. The inside of her right arm burned with a fire that she hadnt felt in
a very long time. Pain was relative as death for someone like her. Shes
learned a long time ago to block the part of her brain that recoiled in pain
when something big and bad decided to hit her. It was something you had to
learn if you were going to heal others through empathy. This was different.






Brittle dead leaves rustled their deathsong in the gnarled tree branches of
the graveyard. It was hard for her to be here long. So many thoughts,
stray voices, even visions. The dead never rested when she was around.
Maybe it was they didnt fear her, she had no desire to grab onto the spirit
and control it for her own desires. Even if All of that was in her
abilities. Just because she rarely cast the spells of Necromancy, did not
mean she wasnt very well schooled in them. Sometimes, sometimes when she
was in a mood like this, she wondered why she didnt just let loose one time.





Her gloved fingers were not cutting it, and she pulled the tightly woven
white glove from her hand with her teeth. The white moon was high in the
sky and lending enough light to watch the grave in front of her. Tonight
seemed like it would be the night. Her nails made the spot feeling better
under the draping sleeves of her kimono. A green light filled the night
air, the eerie gaspeite green of her eyes glowed distracted by the deep
browns of the fresh layed earth.

She could feel him, before she could see the stirring of the ground. He was
squirming like worm. He hadnt been dead All that long, his body seemed to
be stretching if she didnt know better. These types of creatures didnt have
sensations like stretching muscles. There was no relaxing the darkness that
came back with most of the undead. A mangled still bloodied hand tore
itself up out of the ground. The Lifemage simply shaking her head, as she
knelt closer to inspect the birth of the zombie. Shed heard a Necromancer
in the area was creating this monsters. Bringing up the dead, a simple
enough spell if you had the right mind for it. Shed be lying to herself if
she didnt admit shed cast the spell a few times herself. The reason behind
it had never been so nefarious as raising and army of the damned to murder
and pillage in your name.

The rotted fur, and eyeless snarling snout of the dead yinn broke through
the ground, and Taggett worked quickly. Her white moon dagger flashed in
the moonlight as it pressed deep into the throat of the creature. The Life
Mages lips chanting, she would release the spirit, make sure it was broken
free of the body, this poor creature would find rest. Bravo, a dark haired
man grinned from behind the withered bark of a nearby tree. Was hoping the
adorable Lifemage would grace me again tonight
The figure was wrapped in
shadows. It had to be the Necromancer There is something you should know,
we so connected to death. Im surprised you havent felt it yet yourself?

Taggett tossed the head of the dead zombie yinn as far from the still
twitching body as possible. What do you want?

Someone you love is going to die. The mans words remained even if he had
vanished completely. Taggett winced, her arm really hurt, the words of the
Necromancer still racing through her mind. Lifting the sleeve of her robe,
she couldnt help but give a little yelp. The skin was red, in a circled
patch on the inside of her arm. It looked heavily infected. The worse of
the color a bruised black in a bullseye. Something was coming through the
skin just barely. Cautiously, the Lifemage pinched the tip of the object.
Narrowing her eyes, she pulled, her skin gave little resistance as she
pulled out a tiny piece of wood. Not again she sighed.




Writer: Chilok

Date Tue Aug 4 20:04:13 2015




Writer: Taggett

Date Thu Aug 6 02:05:00 2015

To All Lothaw Palquinn Kantilles Arkane Nordmaar Imm *RP*

Subject Modern Day History



A single drop of crimson blood fell from the bloodied blade that rested
at the edge of the giant rock. Night had become Taggetts home once again.
Maybe it was her dealings with the royal family of Nordmaar, perhaps it was
waking hundreds of years in the future. She found herself more often then
not, alone. Nearly everyone you once knew and loved long since dead. It
was tempting, that thought. The notion that if she really wanted she could
reach out to those souls, specially when she was lonely. She just couldnt
bring herself to disturb those who had found peace, found rest.

The corpse was butched out in front of her, it had obviously been an
accident, whatever had killed the teenage boy had been swift, and nearly
completely taken his skull off. A large tree limb was close, and looked as
if it had snapped from one of the higher limbs and as fate would have it
slammed itself into his skull. Shed felt the whisper of death from a great
distance. The kids passing had sent a ripple and she was able to search out
the empty shell his spirit had once walked around inside. She was trying to
learn as much about what could have been done to keep him from dying by
retracing the accident. How the body had failed, what could have been done
to prevent the death if someone had been around.

You never get bored? A voice caught her attention, and she paused splicing
through brain tissue. Being so good, when you have so much power over the
darkness?
She didnt need to turn to know it was the Necromancer shed been
running into lately, cleaning up his messes.

Dont. She could feel his magic tightening around the body, he was trying to
bring something back from the mess. Just let me to my studies

You do, dont you. Even if its a passing though, even if its just a silent
secret. Youd love to know what it feels like to really use your power.


Kantilles, he is the source of my power.

How dreadfully dull His words went sour and the body in her arms lurched to
life, its face skin sliding off and falling in a puddle in front of her. A
skull gnawed its body teeth at her. Lifting a wand from her bag, a bright
blue light flashed through the darkness, and the corpse fell back to rest.
Hows your arm? The Necromancers voice lingered even as he vanished into
the shadows

Taggett narrowed her glowing green eyes. Lothaw was right, she didnt always
seem to be landing in dramatic situations. She just couldnt let anyone else
end up being drug into this one. After All she couldnt let Lothaw, always
be right. Covering the wound on her arm with her kimono sleeve, she ignored
the new piece of gnarled wood breaking through the surface of her skin. She
hoped she could salvage even a little of the brain tissue.


Someone You Love is Going to Die.




Writer: Trylum

Date Thu Aug 6 18:08:01 2015

To Arkane ( Imm RP Zandreya Raije All )

Subject The return of honor - A return home



Trylum walks through the jungles of Tropica, his ears up, listening
intently to any sound that might be out of the ordinary. Songs of birds,
the chirping of monkies, and the baying of boar as they crash through the
underbrush are the only sounds. He knows they're out there, hunting him.
Trylum stops, testing the wind for any sign of a scent. He doesn't hold out
much hop.. There, to the east, someone wasn't quite fast enough getting
upwind. Trylum continues on, knowing they will come from the south, staying
well clear of the easterly breeze, but he knows they will come. For now he
is something to be watched, his brother would not put a kill order out on
him just yet, he was no threat.

As Trylum enters the village All work stops. Wemics and leonine alike stop
to watch the stranger enter the circle of huts and drink from the fountain
in it's center. As he puts the gourd back into the trough he sees his
mother and father exit their hut and look straight at him. Immediatly his
mother's face pales and tears form in her eyes, but she is quick to hide her
worry. His father's brow furrows and clances at the Chief's hut as he
quickly pushes his mother back inside. As Trylum straightens, twelve
warriors step from the tree line, blocking his way to the hut. An older
wemic steps forth. Scars ripple his massive body as his muscles tighten and
loosen, his lip peeling back in a snarl of warning. 'What business have you
here cub?


Trylum tries to calm his nerves, he didn't realize fear would be something
he would have to deal with when he set out. Apprehension yes, regrets yes,
but this bone numbing fear that courses through him is not what he
anticipated. Schooling his face he speaks loudly to the entire village. 'I
am Trylum Snowalker. I was snuck out of this pride out of my mothers fear
for my life, but I have returned to challenge the Chief to combat. I know
our laws and I know the outcome. Only one will be Chief, only one will
live.


The villagers All look at eachother in silence, waiting to see what will
happen when a roar pierces the jungle. The sounds of the forest instantly
become earily silent as the flap to the Chief's hut is flung open. His half
brother, older by four ears emerges in hardened leather battle armor. The
spear in his hand is thick as an oak sappling and is tipped with a two
heads. Each blade glinting in the sunlight. 'And so the coward returns to
face me.. Hear me now Pride of Tojori. I accept my brother's pitiful
challenge, let this end today. Clear the way.
The warriors scramble using
the butts of their spears to clear a twenty foot circle. 'Battle inside the
circle, if you leave the circle you challenge the village warriors and they
are clear to kill you. This battle is to the death, may the Ancestors
cradle your broken body and Raije deny your soul for All time.


Trylum walks into the circle and speaks to the village 'By the laws of the
Ancestors may the Great Mother fulfil her will here today. Your days of
reign are numbered brother, by your death or mine, you will fall.
As he
turns to face his brother he whispers to himself Mother may my mate know of
my love for her, and may my cubs grow in the knowledge of their fathers
love.
With a roar of his own Trylum attacks, the battle for Tojori and the
freedom of his pride begins with the howl of pain not from the Chief, but
from Trylum's own lips.




Writer: Trylum

Date Thu Aug 6 18:19:31 2015

To Arkane ( Imm RP Zandreya Raije All )

Subject The return of honor - A return home - conclusion



Darting in and out Trylum's brother quickly shows he is a powerfull
warrior. Trylum tries to fight him off and manages to get in a few blows,
but isn't causing near enough damage, and worse, he is starting to weaken.
Fighting full on for ten miinutes now, combined with blood loss, it's taking
its toll on the young wemic. His brother jumps in using his spear to sweep
Trylum's legs from under him. Jumping to clear the spear, Trylum misjudges
and the spear tangles in his legs, crashing him to the ground. With a
triumphant roar his brother pounces, pinning Trylum to the ground. 'Those
that challenge me die. You thought to come here and take what is mine?!
Now you die cub.
Lifting the spear in his hands he brings it down at
Trylum's chest when something inside him snaps. Taking the spearpont in his
forearm he draws a short dagger and slams it into his brother's thigh with
all his might and twists. Shock suddenly appears on his brother's face as
his leg gushes his life's blood over Trylum's heaving chest. As the light
fades from his eyes, the last thing he hears is Trylum uttering these words.
'May the Mother welcome you Brother, may the Ancestors bring you to their
table, and may you find peace in the next life.


Broken and bleeding Trylum tries to stand and falters. Dropping to his
knees he tries to use his spear to hold himself up as he looks around the
village. Not one face was seen. Not one voice raised in challenge. He had
won, Trojori was free. {.F




Writer: Lilly

Date Thu Aug 6 21:20:39 2015

To Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom All Imm RP

Subject Alone



Lilly entered the gates of Shalonesti and nothing had changed, not that
she expected anything to change. The haunting memories she had hoped to
purge from her mind were more vivid than ever before. She silently walked
up Emerald Lane, not for any specific reason, just preferred the sound of
silence.

The memories of being attacked by the dwarves as a teen, her getting away by
chance, her father giving her an opening to run as they continued to fend
off the attack. Her head was spinning as the memories flooded her mind.
The color so vivid as if it were just the day before. She could see herself
climb up the tree, so high that she could not be seen. She watched as two
of the dwarves, one grabbed her mother and the other her father, overpowered
them, and slashed both their throats.

Lilly closed her eyes tightly, taking in a deep breath and releasing it.
She would cry no tears for they were All dried up, but she did seek
vengeance. Her hate for the dwarves stronger than ever. She wished to do
to them what they did to her parents and would not give up until each one
fell to her blade. They had left her on Algoron alone and she would make
sure each and every dwarf would pay.





Writer: Hattie

Date Fri Aug 7 03:53:23 2015

To Zola Jonathen Abaddon All ( Imm Religion RP Fatale )

Subject Filling the Graves



As a rule, Darksongs weren't exactly the -best- Fataleites, per se. It
was sort-of to be expected when All of you were stuck in it because your
weird old viking grandma decided to piss off her Austinianite parents.

But Hattie wasn't exactly a normal Darksong. She was still a virgin at
eighteen, for one thing. And for her part in the whole Fataleite business,
she tried. Killing sometmes made her a little squeamish, and she usually
found fountains of blood spewing from jugular veins to be a little bit
icky, but she managed to find parts of it that she liked.

Equality was a big one. Everybody died. Pawns and kings in the same box,
or so the saying went. And then there was the part even Darksongs liked:
living your life the way you wanted, because anybody who promised you
a tomorrow was a liar.

Either way, she had a job now, and it involved doing some murder. Her
very favorite priest in the whole world had asked her to do it, and she
thought he'd probably be mad if he found out she just went and picked off
little old sick people who were about to meet Big Daddy Death anyway. So
off she went with her staff to the dwarven village close to Althainia.

Her staff had glass from broken liquor bottles wedged into one end of it,
and it was pretty good for clobbering things to death. She picked off the
dwarves one by one, glad they were so small so she could just roll them
home instead of having to lug them over her shoulder or something. She
stuffed them into kegs and rolled them laboriously back through the swamp
to her quiet boring homeland, humming one of her dad's songs to herself
as she nudged the barrels along the road.

Fortunately, the graves inside the temple were already open, which was
good, because Hattie was already sweaty and didn't really want to do any
more hard work. She nudged the dwarves in, barrels and all, taking a solemn
swig of firebreather over each before drizzling a little down onto the kegs.
Thoroughly drunk after that, she shoved dirt into each grave and hopped on
each a few times to pat it down.

Then from her bag, she took five yellow daisies she had picked that morning,
wilted already from the heat, and stuck them upright atop each grave.

Then she looked around Zola's graveyard. Five down. A few hundred to go.

She wiped her forehead with the hem of her frilly red skirt. Time to go get
more beer. It was gonna be a long day.




Writer: Taggett

Date Fri Aug 7 23:29:54 2015

To All Arkane Palquinn Imm *RP*

Subject Truthless



The gaspeite green glow of Taggetts eyes illuminated through the dense
fog of the Spirit World. Faces translucent and haunting floated past the
girl. She kept to the shadows, drifting as she floated through the
nothingness around her. Her shoulder hurt, shed kept it to herself for most
of the day. She didnt want to bother everyone with her problems. Shed felt
if she was going to learn anything from her history it would be that not
everything that happens to her needs to happen to the rest of Algoron. She
rubbed the spot as a strange sensation started to pass over her. It felt as
if she was being watched.

You dont have to stay hidden Taggett turned in each direction. Half
expecting the Necromancer would appear at any moment. The feel grew more
intense, a warmth that started at the base of her fingertips and worked
itself up the girls arms. Whats this then?

A scream tore itself from her insides, a burning figure of hate and rage
bursting from the thick fog, snarling its sharp jagged teeth a breath from
her face. Black skin as dark as tar was leathered and slick with some sort
of wet shine. Eyeless sockets looked deep into her soul, and could see her
even through the magic she walked within. Its body was large, taller then
most men, and it hunched its huge shoulders to come close to her face. Its
naked form a shadow in itself, she could feel its hatred sinking down on
her, and it became had to breath as its rotten fumes plunged itself into her
nostrils.

Without thinking, she plunged the narwhales tusk she most often walked with,
into the demons stomach. It hissed through rows of sharp rotten needle
pointed teeth. The fear swept itself through her body and she let the
energy of the wand tear out hitting the beast with a ray of light that
illuminated the dense fog in a bright yellow light. Turning, Taggett rushed
as quickly as she could forward. Her feet rising from the ground, she
started to leap into flight. Something sharp caught her gut. Large talons
hooked themselves into her gut.

You know you belong here. A hot stinking sour voice sizzled in her ear.
She could feel her own blood spill through the beasts clawed hand. You and
that kender. Death doesnt forget, it will always take what is meant to be
ours.
Taggetts eyes blinked the green light flickering across the swirl
nothingness.

We are protected from you..

Are you? Is that why you have started to age again? The voice was filled
with mystery to it, a knowing that both frightened and intrigued her at the
same time.

A smile parted the grimace across Taggetts face. Thats just it, I dont
think I have.
Her eyes flashed with a brightness that illuminated the
tangled pair. A sound like snapping bone and a loud pop punctuated the
sentiment, and it was the demons turn to scream out. From the Lifemages
shoulder a large twisting stick of sharp wood had burst from her skin and
through the chest of the beast. Sorry was that what was left of your heart?


The creatures claws went limp and drug themselves from her gut, she looked
down at the tears in her kimono. The creature limped back into the
darkness. It certainly had been sent to kill her, but it wasnt what it
hoped to disguise itself as. It was not a demon, it was not a messenger of
death. It had in fact been a mistake to send the creature to her. When it
had clawed into her a link had been made. The question now remained. If
she wasnt aging again, if someone she knew wasnt destined for death, who was
playing games with her, and why..?




Writer: Rmed

Date Sat Aug 8 09:21:23 2015




Writer: Chilok

Date Sat Aug 8 12:45:54 2015




Writer: Pitheuis

Date Sat Aug 8 17:05:13 2015

To All Ferg Bloodlust Imm (RP) Kyri

Subject Sailing the Underworld Channel



The elf looked up from the starboard side of the vessel he found himself
upon, beyond the black sail of the boat and into the impossible darkness of
the Underworld's sky. His weapons were stained with the blood his own kin
as was his skin, he wreaked of sweat and death. It would be unthinkable to
present himself in the gardens of the Vallens in such a state. However he
was aboard a ship floating in the Underworld ocean, surrounded by merciless
killers of the Horde known as the Bloodlust clan.

The clansmen were led by the present day Warlord, the yaenni assassin Ferg.
The Warlord and Pitheuis shared a certain bond after the murderous acts they
had committed the previous night. A knowledge of shared blood thirst that
was focused on the weak elves of the Vallenwoods. The field had dried of
both blood and victims so the band of killers found themselves in the
Underworld sailing to find more slaughter. It was becoming apparent to the
Exiled elf the usefulness of these new allies. He thought to himself how
this new alliance would further his ideology to it's end; the death of all
the Royal bloodline Shalonost and their divine right to the throne of
Shalonesti. For such open rhetoric within his previous home, he was casted
out and labeled a traitor and a radical.

The boat came to shore and one by one each minion of the Dungeon jumped over
the side and onto the black sand of the Underworld's west dock. The only
two who were left upon the ship were the Warlord and the Bladesinger, once
opponents and even fighting in the sands of the AGL arena.

Ferg nodded silently and beckoned Pitheuis to disembark, waiting for the elf
to jump first as the trust of former enemies was still building. Pitheuis
had many thoughts stirring in his head during the sailing. More so than
most how he knew his vision of a Shalonesti returned to glory could not be
completed alone, and his new allies of the Dungeon would be very useful to
him in his conquest. The bladesinger in turn aided these Dungeonites murder
faeries in the Underworld, it was a very strange ending to a day of
slaughter in Althainia. One thing was for sure, Pitheuis could not wait to
gut a certain Orc traveling companion who would not cease rubbing oils upon
himself during the sail to the killing fields.




Writer: Lowenir

Date Sun Aug 9 20:01:40 2015




Writer: Liviya

Date Sun Aug 9 20:05:32 2015




Writer: Beldihop

Date Sun Aug 9 23:24:56 2015




Writer: Milleuda

Date Mon Aug 10 08:58:22 2015




Writer: Lilah

Date Mon Aug 10 12:45:30 2015




Writer: Taggett

Date Tue Aug 11 20:23:16 2015

To All Lothaw Takeri Palquinn Arkane Imm *RP*

Subject The Past Becomes the Present.



The door gave a rather pained moan as if having a hard time remembering
the proper way to open. The cabin was scattered with dried dead leaves and
broken rotting furniture, that had been abused with time. If Taggett
Silverwolfe would guess, shed say this had also served as some gang of
misfits base of operation, but the strange symbols and slang painted across
the pine walls of this ancient dwelling. It had surprised her that even
still was standing at all. Minus the huge hole in the east side, the place
was still in relative good shape, for being hundreds of years old.

The room was dim, the light of the forest was reaching the start of dusk and
the leaves of the canopy trapped most of the Algoron sun as it worked down
toward the horizon. Lothaw was surely correct in his judgement of the
Lifemage. She was a moth to flame. She had to know if the past was coming
to haunt her, or some new threat, maybe shed even upset the Necromancer for
the last time. Shed started to burst sticks again from her flesh. The last
time this had happen she was coming of age. Becoming the powerful witch
that had been her birthright.

Here, in this cabin. This was the place her real parents had lived. This
was the place she was born. The dead leaves under her feet crackled with
relief at finally being broken apart. The glow of her eyes reflected off a
huge fogged over mirror that was cracked from the floor base to the ceiling.
It had taken some work to find this place, to locate somewhere she hadnt
been since she was over the age of three. Things had changed that night.
Hed changed that night.

Sliding her gloved hand across the smooth portion of the glass her own face
looked back at her from the resurfaced glass. She thought it so strange to
see herself like this. She didnt look more then sixteen, but she felt her
true age. She felt lifetimes old. She wondered how Palquinn was adjusting
to All of this. Takeri, the half elf, the only other person she knew from
the time before the accident didnt seem to treat her much different. It was
strange to see the half elf again, they hadnt been as close as Palquinn but
there was still a deep friendship, a bond there. It was good that Takeri
had moved to Arkane they could All three rekindle what had been lost over
time.

Something brushed across her bare feet, she wrinkled her nose out of
surprise. A long red snake weaved itself across the floor boards. Do you
live here little one?
Taggett neared the animal as it coiled itself in the
corner, lifting its head slightly as if to look at her. I didnt mean to
frighten you. Im looking for my fathers wand.


Shattering raining fragments of glass exploded next to her face, ripping
into her flesh. The snake cocked its head and out of the corner of her eye,
she was sure it smiled. The massive burst of jagged shards tore into her
kimono, and stung her gut. She could feel each incision, each stab to her
body.

You dont get my wand little girl, youve been very bad. Someone you love is
going to die.
Through the blood Taggett looked up, a horror filled her
chest and knocked the breath from her gut. Standing over her, tall, thin,
long red curls. A gaunt man stared down at her with striking emerald eyes.
Your father is going to punish you.

A gasp parted Taggetts lips as she sat up. Shed fallen asleep reading.
With the nightmare still fresh on her mind, she didnt know she would sleep
ever again.




Writer: Zola

Date Tue Aug 11 21:09:24 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Darkonin Fatale

Subject X Another One Bites the Dust X


Those who opposed the Lord of Murder and His followers continued to fill
the Graveyard of Fallen Enemies.


Healers, Physicians, Pacifists, Knights, Elves, Farmers and Heathens alike
continued to be sought out by the flock of Fatale, murdered in increasingly
brutal (and increasingly
inventive) fashion. Their bodies dragged or
smuggled back to Abaddon and buried on hallowed ground, their spirits cursed
to haunt the new temple forever more.


For Zola, it meant paying a visit to a monastery on Shokono. Ever since his
pilgrimage and divine visions he'd had a sense the small, mystical, hidden
nation
was somehow going to be important in the future of Algoron.
Something big was brewing there. Something important.


And so he found himself visiting the monastery, where the monks had
dedicated themselves to Cliath, God of Creation, maker of things. While not
a truly hated enemy like Taliena and her talk
of peace, or Nadrik and his
prattlings on honor, Fatale and His faithful held a distaste for the
creations of Cliath that served no purpose simply than to be. He created.
They destroyed.


Breaking a vase was no different than murdering a rabbit, after all.

Much as he would have enjoyed nothing more than slaying every last monk in
the monastery and burning it down into little more than a pile of rubble,
Zola had to
admit he was woefully ill-equipped for such an endeavor. With
the Defiler Azjuhb at his side, or the Warlord Ferg, or even the Rage
Ulrog... He may have had far
better odds. As it was, he kept his trip
quiet, keeping to the shadows and the darkness, and chose his victim
carefully. A younger monk, not yet fully initiated, clumsy
and stupid. He
was easy to creep up on in the middle of the wee hours of the night... And
strangle in his own bed.


His corpse would be returned to the Graveyard, as another sacrifice was
offered unto the Lord of Murder. In blood.





Writer: Beldihop

Date Tue Aug 11 22:52:26 2015

To All arkane imm

Subject I accidentally crushed it...



I'm sorry red leaf, I did not know you were so brittle
I never would have placed you squarely in the middle
Of the large jagged rock and that spiked iron club
I didn't think thy'd hurt you, or turn you to a nub

You were my friend but now your just a pile of flakes
I will make it up to you, no matter how long it takes
For now stay neatly in the smaller pouch I found
There are other leaves in it, I'm sure they'd want you around

I'm sure the dwarf who lost it, won't mind you staying there
He used to crush your new friends with very little care
He'd pack them down with clumsiness into a hollow pipe
and set them afire, he wasn't a caring type

writting this poem makes me really crave a smoke
I am sure the dward won't mind, if I make little toke

Ah my friend, safely in the bag,
Oh crap... I'm sorry red leaf, dangit.




Writer: Gabhran

Date Tue Aug 11 23:46:46 2015

To All Nordmaar Imm RP

Subject Passage of Time


Gabhran sits at the end of a long, wooden table, the board covered with
sumptuous treats of various cultures and flavors. Fresh strawberries sat in
a beautiful gilded bowl, large pieces of devil's food cake with chocolate
frosting tempted the most stalwart of dieters, and lines of sushi were just
some of the amazing treats.

Gabhran did not partake in a single morsel. He stared at the entrance way
and into the cobblestone street each time the door cracked open. He
watched, he wondered, and he waited.

Hell week started to stretch into an eternal blur. Each day it was orders
from random kinsmen, embarrassing requests, colorful banners mocking him.
His plight was not unique, and he suffered the indignation only for one
reason. He thought the city needed him.

Yet, at each shadowy stretch of the sundial, he started to wonder if that
was just a delusion of grandeur. He loved his kinsmen, he respected the
culture they upheld and the spirit they maintain. Most were hardworking
souls, willing to watch their brothers and sisters in arms. Others just
followed their own plans and did not contribute to society as a whole. To
each their own, he thought. A person begrudging of work is going to hurt
more than they help.

Gabhran worked tirelessly to make his rank of Sergeant. He tried to lead by
example, set out and do patrols and not let complacency get to him. He
trained hard to get where he was at, and helped others along the way.

There were a few that he had hope for when it came to that same passion,
time, ever the cruel mistress, had cleansed them All from his view. Where
were they now? He knew not. He did not see laziness, but the fire had
gone. If he ever got through this, what was he going to lead?

Highlanders were renowned for their ferocity in battle, their willingness to
stay and fight when the rest of the world retreats. Yet, lately their
drinking and gambling skills were the only thing being sharpened. If he
ever gets to be the one who leads his kinsmen into battle, would anyone even
show up? He knew not. Perhaps the soldiers didn't want leadership or
direction. Perhaps they had forgotten the yinn that are always trying to
steal the solid walls away from them, or perhaps the threat is just so far
away removed it was forgotten. Perhaps they don't need a leader. Perhaps
they just need another round bought for them.

Then it came. The Minister had him perform a sacred ritual in Nordmaar,
something that is passed down to anyone enduring Hellweek. As he finished
this rite, he stopped one again at the feast laying upon the table as he
caught his breath, a heavy sigh escaped his lips as he stood upright.

The sigh was for a number of things. The end of one phase and the beginning
of another for a start. The heaviness of his heart mixed with the running.
The thoughts of his next steps of training and how it may help the people,
or if it would help at all. Or it could be because it was his birthday, and
none of his family were here to celebrate it.

Ultimately, it didn't matter. He keeps pressing on, even if the world falls
down around him.

Now to tell those less fortunate souls of Nordmaar of the feast so it will
not go to waste.




Writer: Ferg

Date Wed Aug 12 11:34:20 2015




Writer: Asrar

Date Wed Aug 12 12:47:53 2015




Writer: Asrar

Date Wed Aug 12 13:13:28 2015




Writer: Rmed

Date Wed Aug 12 18:38:09 2015

To All erebaal imms

Subject Rmed in Shokono



Long, thin and frail, Rmed cut a wraithlike image loping through the
night streets of Shokono. Perpetually stooped over, it's hard to get an
accurate feel for his proportions when he is still. In motion however, as
he reaches out with long arms that hang below his knees, it is clear he is
only nominally bipedal. It is with this simian gait that Rmed makes his way
through the nocturnal streets of the oriental city.

Rmed moved gracelessly but confidently through the side streets of Shokono.
Most comfortable in the shadows, avoided the pale glow cast by the
occasional paper lantern. Rmed reached an especially dark corner, looked
around attentively and then ducked under a low eave into a forgotten
crawlway under a stilted house. In his temporary den, Rmed happily sorted
through his animal skin pouches looking for nothing in particular. A couple
hours later, as the sun slowly rose, Rmed pulled a hastily tanned deer skin
over himself and fell asleep.




Writer: Meladee

Date Wed Aug 12 20:29:05 2015




Writer: Dewey

Date Wed Aug 12 22:57:09 2015




Writer: Dewey

Date Thu Aug 13 00:51:56 2015




Writer: Tairint

Date Thu Aug 13 01:57:01 2015




Writer: Tairint

Date Thu Aug 13 02:19:53 2015




Writer: Rmed

Date Thu Aug 13 16:21:04 2015

To All Erebaal Imms

Subject Rmed in Shokono Part 2



As the sun set over the oriental town, Rmed stirred. The family in the
house above his crawlway had settled in to their night routine and Rmed felt
comforted by the predictability. Rmed dug through his packs and pulled out
a partially consumed, monkey carcass. As he tore at his breakfast he made
his plans for the day.

Rmed enjoyed the Shokono nights. The city itself was very clean and ordered
leaving little competition for the refuse and detritus he enjoyed. He
rarely crossed over into the busier market areas, prefering the residential
neighborhoods on the west side of the city. Dark, thin alleys linked the
broader "Ways" and provided him shrouded paths to any place in the city.

He heard two monkeys starting a commotion next to a particularly nice house
and made his way over silently. As he was watching them fight over some
scrap morsel, a dark clad voice whispered over his shoulder, "Hello, there.
I've been watching you
."




Writer: Takeri

Date Thu Aug 13 19:49:56 2015

To All Taggett Palquinn Brunster Perion Crokus Meki ( IMM RP )

Subject Takeri's Plight, Taggett's Past



Takeri Fairwoden sat in the Garden of Death, still as a statue. She
didn't breath. She didn't need to. She didn't blink. She stared at
nothing and everything before her. She was lost in her mind, trapped in a
subtle, wicked cage. She felt nothing, nothing but an insatiable hunger.
She couldn't understand the need. She couldn't understand what it was she
needed. She sat still. The Garden hushed around her. It was fitting. She
was no longer exactly living. She tried to reflect on how she came here.
The white bull, she thought and then sank further back into her memory. The
water, faces, people and then the man with the piercing emerald eyes, she
shuddered mentally. Her body remained still as she recoiled at the memory.


He stole her from the world and pulled her into the Spirit Realm. He took
her heart and put it in his pocket and shoved her back into the physical
world. Takeri thought she died. She was sure she had known herself outside
herself, but her goddess was dead and her spirit lingered.

Something between that memory and her next was gone. She couldn't find it
anywhere in her mind. Her body inhaled sharply at her distress and gave a
ragged sigh. Why was she still here? How was she still here? There was a
heart within her chest. It seemed to give her some semblance of living, but
it wasn't her own.

Worse yet, she was consumed by this strange want, which she couldn't
understand. Overwhelmed she crept back into the recesses of her mind and
slept. Her body remained sitting on the bench, eyes open and staring,
seeing nothing and everything before her.




Writer: Benthic

Date Sat Aug 15 14:12:32 2015




Writer: Sairina
Date Sat Aug 15 17:21:55 2015

To All Imm RP

Subject A Child's Curiosity



Sairina looked up at All the new faces of the elves her papa took her to
meet, she greeted each one with a hello and answered any questions they had.
She was intelligent for her age and quite fearless for an eight year old.
She smiled and spoke to everyone and was even polite when the Speaker
arrived to meet her.

Once the introductions were over and things started to settle down, Neurion
mentioned he had books and her ears perked up. She turned to him and asked
what he had and he spoke of a book of treasures. At the sound of treasures,
she forgot anything else existed. He gave her a book on the Almarina and
she smiled widely. She looked up at Neurion with a big smile and looked at
the page he had said had the treasures on it. She read the page with
curiosity and excitement thinking how much of an adventure it could be to
see this ghost ship.

She closed the book with a grin wondering when she would be strong enough to
take this adventure. She wished to see the ship, hunt its treasures, and
possibly see a few ghosts. Her curiosity peaked and her love for adventure
growing.





Writer: Liviya
Date Sun Aug 16 00:17:37 2015

To Arkane Verminasia Shadow Traice Carrionmaw Leadero All ( Imm Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Mother's Little Nightmare



'Your Eminence? Your Eminence?' the voice was quiet and far away.

Liviya was being ripped apart from the inside. She felt claws shredding
her organs, their pointed tips garishly distending her abdomen as she
screamed in pain.

'Your Eminence!' The voice was louder now. Insisent.

A talon poked through her skin. A geyser of blood and destroyed intestine
spewed up to spatter the ceiling. Another came through, and another. And
then she was flayed from the inside as a creature came forth: long and
thin, covered in red scales, sharp teeth glistening red and spotted with
chunks of flesh and sinew.

'Your Eminence!' There was that voice again. Why?

The beast looked up into her ice blue eyes, its own glistening crimson. And
as the last threads of her life snapped, she felt... affection?

'Your Eminence!' She was being shaken now. A second later, her eyes
snapped open.

She was in her bed, intact, a recently hired servant girl- Chrissandra was
her name, Liviya thought- hovering at her side. She put her hand to her
forehead and found a wet cloth. Her hands went to her midsection, feeling
for damage, and she gave a resolute sigh when it All came together.

Nightmares. Damerus had banished them. Not permanently, so it seemed.

At least there wasn't much mystery to this one. She reached up to take
Chrissandra's hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

'I'm alright,' she said. 'But I'm going to -murder- Traice Kylen.'




Writer: Leadero

Date Sun Aug 16 07:50:10 2015




Writer: Liviya

Date Sun Aug 16 08:49:53 2015




Writer: Anathaelynn

Date Sun Aug 16 14:40:07 2015




Writer: Taggett
Date Mon Aug 17 14:34:06 2015

To All Taggett Palquinn Brunster Perion Crokus Meki Arkane Nordmaar Kantilles ( IMM RP )

Subject Undead (1 of 2)


The water felt cool against her skin, the rushing of the waterfall. This
was what life was about, spending time with her best friends. Enjoying the
pleasant smells of the enchanted forest. Being at one with the world around
her. This was the oasis that she so desperately needed right now. There
was no royal family of Nordmaar calling her names for a couple dates, there
was no nightmares of dead creatures tearing skin and flesh from bony limbs.
There was only Palquinn cannonballing into the waterfall. That was until
Takeri touched the tip of the unicorns horn.

Taggett shuddered looking around the crystal monastery. Shed trapped
herself there for the last couple of days. She hadnt even told Palquinn
where she was going. She needed to escape. Shed never cast a spell like
that before, not on a friend. Not on someone who was so freshly dead.
Never with the intention actually bringing them back. She knew the monks
had been worried about her. The strange girl that came and went from this
place whenever the world outside got to scary for her. The world right now
didnt make any sense. It couldnt be real. Takeri couldnt actually be dead.




Takeri, Palquinn, Taggett, they had been close for so long, before the
accident. Before Taggetts spell had put Palquinn and her into a deep sleep
for hundreds of years. Before they had vanished from the world for so long.
Takeri, shed gone on living. Half elf, time was slowed for her, not as much
as for her half cousins, but enough that she hadnt gone the way of most
everyone else the girls had known. So it was with excitement, and relief
that Taggett had ran into Takeri again. That she had brought her to Arkane
to join the kender and Lifemage in their new home. To be together once
more. Even if the warning had been hiding in Taggetts dreams. Someone you
love will die.


Taggetts glowing eyes remained transfixed on a wavering candle. The
waterfall had been so pleasant, and then turned so horrible All at once.
Takeri touching the tip of a unicorns horn. Like some spell in a childrens
faerie tale. The half elf had returned to the water. Shes seemed no
different, and then she fell. Under the water. Gone, the panic, time
flashing forward and back. Yelling, water splashing, and then blood. So
much blood, raising to the surface of the pond.

The enchanted forest was close, close to the world of the dead. Could it
have been the idea to come here had been strung into her dreams, or Takeris.
Takeri, her body floating to the surface of the shimmering pond. Her chest
torn open, she was missing her heart. Taggett could see it at once, it
didnt take an extensive knowledge of anatomy to see that. Lifeless, more
then her heart, Taggett could feel the spirit was gone, almost. She could
still feel a trace lingering, as if the body was gone, but Takeri still was
there, somewhere.




Writer: Taggett

Date Mon Aug 17 14:36:45 2015

To All Taggett Palquinn Brunster Perion Crokus Meki Arkane Nordmaar Kantilles ( IMM RP )

Subject Undead (2 of 2)


Someone brought the half elf from the water, her friend, so pale, All the
life gone from her. Taggett acted without thinking, she rushed to her bags.
People were alerted, coming to help, healers, the most powerful of Arkane.
They were keeping the body working, the efforts they provided gave the
Lifemage time. Kept blood moving, kept things working inside the corpse.
The corpse, she couldnt think like that, not about Takeri. Not about her
friend.

The first hearts, she pulled from her bags, were dark, shriveled and
belonging to creatures that would not provide enough life. She cursed that
she hadnt been keeping an extensive enough collection. She was a Lifemage,
what good was she if she didnt have the tools to keep life in the dying? It
was the last heart in her garnet gemstone that would have to do.

One of the monks offered her a stone cup of water, he was right she hadnt
been drinking enough the last week. She needed to keep up her energy. She
couldnt let her own health go, because of what had happened. Because of the
magic shed promised herself a long time ago she considered forbidden. Why
had it been that heart? A red aura flamed around the vibrant red organ. It
had belonged to a sea siren. A creature of the murky depths of the sea elf
homeland. A creature that lured sailors to their deaths. Shed plunged her
hand holding the soft tissue into Takeris chest. To the spot the half elfs
missing heart had been torn. Torn by what, by whom? Part of Taggett was
afraid to admit she already knew. The signs had been there already, had
warned her. She hadnt listened, shed let her guard down.

Life, what a strange fine line we walk everyday. The slightest push in one
direction, and that flame that seems so ever lasting could falter and fade,
forever. Taggett couldnt let that happen. She could feel Palquinn watching
her as she stood, looking down as healers continued to work on Takeri. She
knew deep down there was only one way that Takeri would make it through, one
way that she would stand once again.

It was like the air being punched from her chest. She could see it in
Palquinn too, as she held the kenders hand. The spell, the ritual, the dark
magic she had promised to keep locked away All that time ago. It now washed
over Takeri, it reached deep into the spirit world, and grabbed as much of
the half elf back from the otherside, it crushed down on the sirens heart
and forced it to pump, to beat, even for a moment. It didnt need to keep
working, it just needed a charge, a spark.

Taggett Silverwolfe blew out the candle. She needed to try to sleep. Even
if everytime she closed her eyes, she saw Takeris blank stare. The lifeless
life in her friends features. The truth was, no matter what she called
herself, Taggett was a Necromancer. She controlled the forces of death just
as much as life. Takeri was no more alive then the zombies that drug
themselves around the Temple of the Undead. Taggett didnt know where Takeri
was now, she didnt know if she would ever be able to fully bring her friend
back from the otherside. All she knew right now was she had to try. She
had to rest, and come back to the world.

She had to be a Lifemage.




Writer: Eszka

Date Mon Aug 17 17:09:57 2015

To All Arkane ( Imm Sunny RP )

Subject Eszka's Returning



She came back to Arkane filled with hope and light, her journey over the
oceans to Tropica refreshed and strengthened her. Eszka was not such a
great thinker. She tended to overlook much of the intricacies of the world
at large, forming her own opinions with the expressions and outward demeanor
people. Arkane was full of subtleties that were lost to her understanding.
She came back, because she loved the people of Arkane and felt beloved of
them, even though she did not comprehend much of what they said to her.

Eszka dipped her wings, banking and then landing within the Arkane walls.
It felt right to be back. She walked to the Phoenix Hoard, missing her time
with the piano. She was going to have to get used to walking more than
flying. The flight home had been a struggle and taxing. Soon, she would be
too heavy for the normal aerial activities. The child was distending her
belly, causing her balance to be offput, her wings too weak to lift her
mass. She would be grounded soon in preparation for the childs entry into
the world.

She sat at the piano, placing her long slim fingers over the ivory keys, now
so familiar with the instrument. Lovingly, she practiced through the scales
and keys, Major to Minor to Major at last. Her fingers flexed over the
board and she played a song with ease, remembering melody so dear. She
wondered at the tune she played, it seemed to draw from her very soul. A
song that had been with her since birth, a winding, peaceful measure of
happiness, solidarity, Ariel, she suddenly remembered her Marmie and Pere,
singing over her.

Eszka stopped playing for a moment. Thinking about the things she had
learned as a child, as the Daughter of the Priestess of Dawn and Dusk. She
needed to hold on to that, not lose it in the midst of other cultures. Her
son would herald another dawning of Ariel ways, she would teach. She
continued to play and to remember the old ways.




Writer: Tairint

Date Tue Aug 18 01:05:09 2015




Writer: Tairint

Date Tue Aug 18 01:38:15 2015




Writer: Milleuda

Date Tue Aug 18 09:05:43 2015




Writer: Irilka

Date Tue Aug 18 15:08:00 2015




Writer: Panphanis

Date Tue Aug 18 15:31:37 2015




Writer: Fynix
Date Wed Aug 19 03:11:39 2015




Writer: Panphanis
Date Wed Aug 19 15:04:48 2015




Writer: Lira
Date Thu Aug 20 08:38:37 2015

To All Imm RP Religion ( Siccara )

Subject Shattered Heart



Lira started packing the little she owned in her bags getting ready for
her next journey. "How stupid was I to think he would ever see me as
anything."
She continued to pack her things. "And not to have the courage
to say anything, such a coward."
She saw with her own eyes what the future
held and it did not include her. "Why say that we had a chance for the
future if he knew we did not. She sighed heavily as she continued to speak
to herself as if she would hear the answers.

"Yet he wanted to be my friend so I can watch them hang All over each other
while my heart was broken into a million pieces."
Now she grew angry as
she tossed things in her bag. When she had run out of things to pack, She
did not know what to do with herself so she sat down on the bed "I guess I
was right, I was never going to be good enough for him no matter what I am
just a human to him."


She knelt down at the side of the bed "Benevolent Mother, I come to you for
help in healing this broken heart of mine. Help me to get through the days
ahead of me as I start a new life, wherever it may be. Lead me on Your path
to healing. I ask this in Your name. Blessed be.

She stood up as her decision was made, she would leave Althainia and the sad
memories it held, and start a new life in the desert of New Thalos.





Writer: Aybel

Date Thu Aug 20 11:45:53 2015




Writer: Aybel

Date Thu Aug 20 12:22:05 2015




Writer: Tairint

Date Thu Aug 20 14:28:51 2015




Writer: Benthic

Date Thu Aug 20 21:53:38 2015




Writer: Rolus
Date Fri Aug 21 12:43:17 2015




Writer: Rolus
Date Fri Aug 21 13:12:38 2015




Writer: Rolus
Date Fri Aug 21 13:36:33 2015




Writer: Rolus
Date Fri Aug 21 13:55:54 2015




Writer: Eszka
Date Fri Aug 21 17:13:23 2015




Writer: Benthic
Date Sat Aug 22 21:07:51 2015




Writer: Benthic
Date Sat Aug 22 21:55:13 2015




Writer: Benthic
Date Sun Aug 23 00:11:00 2015

To All ( Imm Taliena ) RP

Subject Jail Time Day 2 part 3



He begins snapping his fingers to a beat, praying in his head "Taliena
care to dance with me?
"

He dances around the room to a beat only he can here. Moving fluidly about
the room not missing a beat He spins, once then spins back keeping his
footsteps to the beat Says oh yea "Oh yea" as he continues to dance around
the jail cell by himsel




Writer: Savenath

Date Sun Aug 23 00:50:32 2015




Writer: Rellinath
Date Sun Aug 23 14:07:23 2015

To All althainia mahalia nadrik imm RP

Subject Inevitability



Rellinath wandered the city streets, his vision blurred by the rum he'd
indulged in, not even really sure where he was going. He'd been drinking
with Jadelyn at the Dark Horn, and unlike their normal carefree carousing
both had been in low spirits, their moods dark and brooding from their own
troubles. His mind wandered the paths of his memory as his feet wandered
the streets, and snippets of conversation from the past few days came back
to him as he walked.

"If I were to fall in battle, I would not want you saddled with raising a
child alone. "

A family. He wanted that, certainly. But was that selfish of him,
considering what he knew?

"You are not going to fall in battle. "

Would that be such a bad thing? Perhaps even preferable to what awaited if
he didn't?

"I won't leave you here alone. "

And there it was. He'd never before lied to his wife, but he knew in those
words, he had. Not by choice, but that didn't make the dark reality of it
any lighter. He would, indeed, eventually end up leaving his beloved wife
to face the world alone. He did not have a choice in the matter. It was
inevitable. Only a matter of time, really, whether it be tomorrow or fifty
years from now. And he knew that would destroy her.

"I want you to promise me something. If I fall in battle, or succumb to
illness, do not let Hali follow me before her time. "

Rell was still fairly new to Nadrik's faith, but even he knew that the god
of honor would likely frown upon suicide. He did not want Hali to fall from
grace because of him.

"You have my word. "

Even with that promise, he wasn't sure his father in law could do anything
if he tried.

He didn't know how he'd gotten there, but he looked up and saw the
magnificent statue of Lord Nadrik, standing proudly in the center of his
temple in the Church of Light, before him. He approached the statue, raised
his eyes to it, regarded it quietly for a few moments. Then, in a fit of
blind rage, he curled his fist, drew back his arm, and punched the stone
statue hard in the gut, hardly caring as pain exploded through his hand,
dulled as it was by the alcohol in his blood. He raised his voice as he
raised his eyes, yelling slurred curses into the empty chamber.

"Why woul' yae do this t' us? Whot th' bloodae 'ell 'ave wae done t'
deserve this 'ell? "

He angrily pointed towards the glass case to the side of the temple.

"Tha' says tha' yae will ne'er pu' anaethin' upon us tha' yae'd nae expect
anae o' yer faith t' shoulder. Well yae've sure go' 'igh expectations o'
us, yae know tha'? Wae give e'erythin' wae are t' yae, walk th' path o' yer
faith, an' this bae 'ow yae reward us? By makin' us suffer loike this?
It's nae fair!"

The pain in his hand and his heart overwhelmed him, and the booze overtook
him as he sank to the ground at the feet of the statue in grief. Before he
blacked out, he wondered again if it'd be such a bad thing if the blade of
an enemy or some illness were to take him from this world before his time.

At least then, his beloved would not have to suffer the slow torture of
watching him grow old and wither away into death.




Writer: Clarissia

Date Wed Aug 26 08:59:42 2015

To Althainia Teimhnean All Zypher Imm (RP)

Subject Departure.


Skimming her fingers along the balcony railing, she watched the city
below. And like the cool droplets of rain falling around her, the memories
hit her - one by one, until she was drenched, heart flooded. So many smiles
and tears, so much laughter, so many friendships. She recalled the numerous
Imperial events held here, the hosting of foreign dignitaries, contrived
kidnappings, even witnessing the avatars of the Gods themselves.

From way up here, the Empire almost seemed small, but the memories were vast
in breadth and depth, just as they were All encompassing.

She breathed a sigh, her fingers slipping from the railing. And as she
turned to leave Althainia, she wondered if, and when, she would ever see her
beloved balcony again.




Writer: Boof

Date Wed Aug 26 12:06:26 2015

To All ( Devion Imm Rp )

Subject (Storytime) - The Gaggle of Knights


Boof loved to write stories. He was very good at making things up off
the top of his head, and for a goblin, his vocabulary was quite exemplary.
This of course added to the mystery that was Boof Rog. Because there could
be no doubt. Despite his tricks and his schemes, his great ability to twist
the truth and his silver tongue... Boof, was an idiot.


And so the story began.

The young and devilishly handsome priest of Devion ran in a panic.
Behind him a stampede of hooves could be heard, followed by curses and war
cries. Running as fast as his legs could carry him, already wounded, and
near death he dodged into the home of a filthy little gully dwarf.

He quickly covered the gully's mouth with his good hand, muffling her cries.
Whispering in her ear he said, 'Mez will not hurt youz. Der iz an enemy
afoot. Several thousand Knightz is at youz door and demz wish ter kill us
all.
'

The poor, and pathetically stupid creature immediately gasped behind the
priest's good hand. Her eyes were wide with fear and he could tell she had
no actual idea what was going on. As such, he played to this, and told her,
'Youz must run... RUN FER YOUZ LIFE!!! '

With that he released and shoved her out the door. The sound of screams and
stomping hooves could be heard as the little gully dashed through the
bushes.

The Devionite snickered to himself. Checking quietly and carefully, he
peeked out the door to see only darkness and quiet. The sounds of murder
could be heard in the distance.

He quickly ran the the opposite direction, sprinting with everything he had.
He was nimble, and terribly athletic, and felt he could easily out run a
horse. But sadly, he was wrong, as the steed of a crusader is imbued with
great and fearsome magics. He turned only for a moment, glancing behind him
to see what appeared to be an entire war party of Knights, charging towards
him with murder in their eyes. At this he began to pray, and was set upon
by an idea from his wonderful Lord Devion.

Turning, he planted himself firmly before the hundreds of Knights. And he
blasted them with holy flames as they rushed him.

In a panic, they tried to stop. Some were unhorsed, some died instantly.
But a few remained. Cursing the priest's genius and charging him with
weapons drawn.

The priest charged back, blessed by his Lord Devion he he ran with his hook
on high. The Knights thrust their weapons at the poor priest. One
wielding a massive polearm that grazed the priest. He ducked and promptly
slid on the ground. Spitting black poison into the Knight's eye

Finally, he turned, and with one final blast of holy flames he slew them
both. Cackling in glee at the wonderful plan Devion had bestowed upon the
priest. As he laughed, a spear burst from the priest's chest! Turning his
head he saw one last Knight that had been hiding in the shadows.

"Youz tricksy bastard... " the priest hissed in pain, blood gushed from his
wound and spilled All over the ground.

The Knight merely snickered, before kicking the priest from his spear. And
summarily raising a large cross for All to see.

The nearly dead priest sobbed despite himself as he was hoisted by the
horrible Knight and placed upon the crucifix. And there he hung, his chest
open and hanging from the cross of Nadrik.

The Knight laughed in glee, and harassed the poor priest. But, as a final
act of courageous rebellion, Devion blessed the priest once more. With his
final breath, the priest spit the largest and blackest loogey into the eyes
of the Knight, blinding it, and causing it to scream in pai n.

- The End


Boof snickered to himself as he dipped his quill in an ink stopper. Yet
another tail of heroism in the face of great odds.




Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Aug 27 19:51:32 2015




Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Aug 27 21:33:23 2015




Writer: Thodrelan

Date Thu Aug 27 22:06:19 2015




Writer: Kaladon

Date Fri Aug 28 04:10:43 2015




Writer: Kaladon

Date Fri Aug 28 04:25:01 2015




Writer: Kaladon

Date Fri Aug 28 05:37:39 2015




Writer: Euterah
Date Fri Aug 28 17:44:11 2015




Writer: Kaladon
Date Sat Aug 29 01:12:49 2015




Writer: Kaladon
Date Sat Aug 29 01:39:59 2015




Writer: Andreyna
Date Sun Aug 30 13:48:56 2015

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Laendyn Drondon Calithie Zandreya Zypher Imm RP

Subject -Calithie Shalonost-


Andreyna Sha'evlas lay comfortably in her bed, exhausted, though
completely at peace. It was one of the happiest days of her life, fully
comparable to the day of her marriage to her lifemate, Laendyn Shalonost.
Though having just been delivered of the royal couples first child, the
Queen of the elves still managed to look elegant, graceful, a blessing
bestowed upon All of the high elves.

The new mother smiled softly, her face glowing with pride as she watched
Deacon Drondon Sha'evlas caring for the tiny bundle. With the utmost of
care the Regent examined the newborn, swaddling the tiny babe in soft
blankets, whispering softly in Elvish as he blessed the child in the name of
the Mother, Zandreya.

Gently scooping up the precious package in his arms, he approached the new
parents. Andreyna scooted up slowly in the bed, a bright smile upon her
face, Laendyn aiding her with care, having never left his wife's side.
'Congratulations', the Mother's Deacon spoke in Elvish, '.. It is a healthy
and very lively girl.
' He gently passed the baby into Andreyna's arms,
carefully cradling her wobbly head.

The proud parents beamed down at their tiny baby girl, flaxen hair framing
her cherubic face, pointed ears of her high elf heritage peeping through.
Andreyna whispered a soft prayer in her Elvish tongue, 'Dearest Mother, we
thank you for this wonderful gift you have so graciously bestowed upon us.
We shall teach her Your ways, show her Your path, remind her that She is
always safe within Your arms. Please watch over and bless our precious
child. Please continue to bless us as we raise her, as we guide her in the
way of the elves and the way of the Mother. In All that we do, we do for
You, blessed Mother.
'

Laendyn Shalonost leaned forward, gently kissing Andreyna on the forehead,
then softly pressing his lips to the forehead of his firstborn, the proud
smile never parting from his lips. 'Thank you for All of your aid, Deacon.
', he spoke with extreme gratitude to Drondon, 'It truly means the world to
us. ' The Mother's Deacon smiled, dipping his head respectfully, 'May I ask
what you will be naming the child?
', he replied to Speaker of the Stars.



A bright white moon shined brightly outside of the window, its gleaming
light beaming through the glass, washing over the newborn elf. Laendyn
smiled down at this baby girl, lightly stroking his finger over her soft
chubby cheek. 'Calithie.. ' he nodded, thinking of the Elvish word for
moonlight, 'Calithie Shalonost. '




Writer: Boof

Date Sun Aug 30 19:46:34 2015

To All ( Devion Imm Rp )

Subject (King of the Hill) ...or not?


Boof salivated at the chance to kill the Knights that stood at his bind
stone. The idea that they would dare come to hunt Bloodlust infuriated him
to no end. Carefully, with the grace of Devion guiding his footsteps, he
peeked outside of his hall and peered about. Many things could be seen,
useless treants and dumb tree-elves. None of this concerned Boof.

With murder in his heart and disgust in his very veins, he summoned the
power of Devion to see further than any normal mortal could. With the gift
of farsight, Boof could peer through the ether and see many leagues away.
As he did this, he witnessed his great forest peel back and reality itself
shape itself into something akin to a lens. The trees fell away in his
mind's eye, and so too did the vast distance of space until he could see his
bind stone.

"Der filth... " he whispered to himself, concealed within the forest. Just
as he had thought, the stone was quite literally -covered- with elves and
humans.

At that a plan began to form in his goblin mind. One of trickery and
deceipt, one of malice and hatred. A plan, as he saw it, that was bestowed
to him by Devion himself.

Running full speed, Boof arrived at his bind stone in no time. And with all
of the fury his heart could muster, he summoned the holy flames of Devion to
burn and torture his foes. The beauty of this particular spell was how
terribly it weakened a creature, causing injury from the sli ghtest of
touches.

Several members of both Knighthood and Shalonesti immediately sprang to
attack. But All they found was pain. Running full force one Knight was
badly blinded with a mouthful of spit and then weakened with magic.

Boof was a fool, no doubt, but he would not willingly kill himself. As such
he ran with wild abandon, and reached out gating to anything he could.

All around him were many crystalline creatures. They varied in size and
shape, but it was obvious they were fragile. He pondered for only a moment.
"No, dis will not do. " And with a thought he had arrived within Arkane.

His strategy had been formed, and had thus far worked. Heading to the east
gate he blasted holy fire at his enemies and once more blinded any within
reach.

Moving back and forth, this continued for several hours. He, always gating
to a new target, never allowing any to discern his whereabouts.

As he lagged, tired, and simply worn out, he attempted a mad dash past the
Knights and elves into the sanctity of his glorious Dungeon. Running past
crystals, he arrived on the bridge and dashed towards the trees on the
horizon.

"Almost der... " he thought.

As soon as he rounded the corner to the forest, something grabbed him by his
throat and jerked him -violently- to the north. Fear and pain filled his
mind and the visage of Siccara filled his vision.

Standing All around him were Knights, and elves, and the statue of Siccara.
Boof cursed in anger and in fear as the Knights began to kick him. Crushing
his ribs over and over again.

The last thing he saw, past placid elves and the jeering Knights was the
statue of Siccara, smiling sweetly, as he was blugeoned to death.




Writer: Kaladon

Date Sun Aug 30 22:12:36 2015




Writer: Kaladon

Date Sun Aug 30 23:06:28 2015




Writer: Milleuda

Date Mon Aug 31 08:13:37 2015




Writer: Mahina

Date Mon Aug 31 08:47:46 2015

To All Imm RP

Subject New Hope and New Beginnings



Mahina walked the streets of Arkane taking one final look at what she was
leaving behind. The citizens were very nice to her and the city itself was
quite pretty but she never felt like she ever fit in. With the
disappearance of her fiance so long ago, she felt no need to continue her
stay within the kingdom. She had made her decision and off she went.

She entered the forest near Shalonesti and was struck by the beauty that
surrounded her, the trees, the flowers, even the vines caught her eyes. She
continued to walk towards the kingdom continueing to admire All that
surrounded her. She had finally reached the gates where two guards looked
her over as she entered the gates.

Mahina walked Emerald Lane until she reached the bridge, watching the water
flow by as she thought about letting her past flow with it. Those who cause
her pain, All the hurt, and All the frustrations. Start All over with a new
outlook. The only thought that bothered her was fitting in with the elves.
She had been amongst humans All her life and was never shown their ways.
She looked at the water a few more moments before continueing on.

She had finally reached the temple where the elf allowing her citizenship
was. They spoke for a bit and she answered his questions. After a while,
she became a citizen of Shalonesti. Her reception to the kingdom was
wonderful to her and totally unexpected. She was not only welcomed but also
assisted by everyone there.

She had never received that much attention so it felt a bit ackward to her,
but it felt nice to at least be seen. This opens a new chapter in her book
of life.





Writer: Meladee

Date Tue Sep 1 03:01:06 2015




Writer: Ashbie

Date Tue Sep 1 06:55:36 2015

To Verminasia Marcaus Iohan All Immortal Roleplay KWARS

Subject Raising Hell: Prelude of the Storm IV


"Right then. Who's next?"

Ashbie tilted her head to the side, looking down the line of a dozen men.
One of them was just repositioning himself, looking sore and uncomfortable.
Yet, in spite of that fact, the man had a small smile on his features. He
wouldn't be smiling the next morning when he woke up.

Then again, neither would Ashbie.

A man finally stepped forward from the line. He was only slightly taller
than Ashbie, but he had the build of a natural born fighter. His jaw was
square and hard, chiselled with defining contours that made him appear
like a bronze statue. As he turned to face her, Ashbie saw the darkness in
his eyes. He had a trimmed goatee around his mouth and chin and curly hair
that fell around his face down to his ears.

"I will." The man said. Without another word he lifted his sword.

The sword was made of wood, but so was Ashbie's. In her other hand she
held a wooden dagger as well. There was a brief moment of pause, of
calm before the swelling of the storm.

Then they sprang into action. There was a reason that fighting was often
referred to as dancing. When two people clashed, each with the highest
level of skill, there was something beautiful that surrounded it. From
the practised, nearly choreographed, footwork that each took, vying to
gain positional advantage, to the way they stared one another down like
partners on a dance floor.

The man, Ashbie remembered his name as Bayrd, struck out with a slash to
Ashbie's right side. A feint, she saw it just moments before the sword
arced up dangerously close to her skull. Ashbie was quick, parrying the
blow with a little upward motion of her sword. She lashed out with her
wooden dagger, but Bayrd took a couple of quick steps to the left and
she caught only air.

Ashbie noted the look of intensity in Bayrd's eyes. Though burning, his
eyes remained calm and focused. It was as if he was channelling All of his
hate and anger at her, letting that energy follow through with his sweeps
and strikes. Ashbie's heart beat faster.

Finally, a blow hit, but it wasn't Ashbie's. Sharp, white hot pain radiated
from her left shoulder. The pain ran down her arm and across her chest.
However, she was used to being hit, she was used to shrugging off pain.
Ashbie lost but a half a step, then plunged her own sword for Bayrd's
chest. He parried away the strike effortlessly.

The next blow did belong to Ashbie. A clever feint allowed her to land a
hard strike to his upper chest. Bayrd's eyes widened a little, then
narrowed as the intensity of his hate and anger seemed to grow. His hand
seemed to move more quickly, Ashbie matched the increased speed herself.
She thought back to practising with her father, Rikam. Though he loved
her, he never seemed to ease up in their sparring. He had been better,
faster, and stronger for the longest time. But then one day, All of that
changed.

Ashbie was in her late teens, and Rikam himself was starting to age a
little. In truth, it was a gradual process. However, in the moment, it
had felt so immediate. They were sparring and Rikam increased the speed
of his blows. Except, this time, Ashbie managed to match him. They had
danced along the deck of the Requiem, going back and forth. Ashbie had
still lost that day, but, to her, it nearly felt like she had won.

The blows were adding up now. Bayrd was edging ahead, landing two blows
for every blow Ashbie managed to land on him. She felt the fatigue building
up until, at long last, she parried aside a final blow and then said,
"Yield."

Obediently, Bayrd stopped. Though he was victorious, he appeared exhausted
as well.

Ashbie nodded and Bayrd stepped back into line. She looked up and down
at the line of soldiers. There was still work to be done, but much had
been accomplished.

"Lieutenant-General!" Ashbie called out. From out of the line emerged
a man, Iohan.




Writer: Aethelwine
Date Tue Sep 1 18:18:04 2015




Writer: Milleuda
Date Wed Sep 2 13:51:18 2015




Writer: Aviandha
Date Wed Sep 2 14:18:15 2015




Writer: Phred
Date Wed Sep 2 22:09:21 2015

To All Nordmaar Arkane IMM RP

Subject Phred in Faerie



She was overwhelmed at times within the Tower, the resplendent ethereal
glory of the Fae tickled her mind, a brilliant display, eyeful after eyeful
and she drank it down. It was almost giddy, this atmosphere of mirth and
self-indulgence. She fairly skipped down the hallways with the Prince of
Faeries guiding her. Their fingers twined together, usually she only
reserved such a touch for intimate people, but this felt right. Her hand in
the Princes hand, as they walked down corridors of light, the spangled hues
leading them through. She gave a glib smile, her blue green eyes seeking
the Princes eyes. The Prince of Faeries was unlike any she ever beheld.
The triple ringed eyes of amber and ochre and red, seemed to dazzle her.
She had given her music to the court for several days now, or was it weeks?
The days and nights seemed to blur together like a dreamy haze of seasons.
A night of silver, a day of gold, so many colors and textures, she was
overwhelmed and delighted.

And she had drunk of the faerie wine, that which was made from honeysuckle
and elderberry. She thought she should refrain, but the Prince had plied
her until she acquiesced. The jeweled goblet never seemed to run dry as the
Prince of Fae tipped it back for her to drink. The Sidhe court was gay and
merry around her, their colors like dawn, like sunset, so many different
shades of intensity. It almost made her eyes hurt. The laughter reigned
supreme here. The tendrils of magic wrapped Phred in their embrace and she
was lost in a glitter of joy. They sang to her! Theyre faerie voices like
the sweetest honey on the tongue, trippingly over the tongue! She played
with them until she was breathless and panting from the exertion. She
passed out over a stone bench, draped in purples and lavender and seeming to
grow ivy to pillow her unruly russet head.

She was thoroughly enthralled and she dreamed of herself walking in reality.
She dreamed in colors of silver and gold. They released her, the Faerie
Prince kissing her forehead anointing her with Fae objective.



 


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