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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

Acceptance: Part II
Acceptance: Part III
Changes I
Changes II
Changes III
A New Home in the Jewel
Trial of the Archmagus
Leaving Arkane
The Laughter of the Earth: Captain Oldbeard and the Julia Marie (i)
The Laughter of the Earth: Captain Oldbeard and the Julia Marie (ii)
The Laughter of the Earth: Captain Oldbeard and the Julia Marie (iii)
The Laughter of the Earth: Captain Oldbeard and the Julia Marie (iv)
The Laughter of the Earth: Captain Oldbeard and the Julia Marie (v)
The Laughter of the Earth: Captain Oldbeard and the Julia Marie (vi)
Bless this... home?
Conversation, the Gods and Battle
A Little Life Begins
The taking of Gallow-held
A Hard Day
A Message from the Holy Mother
The Forging of a Warhammer - Part I
Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part One)
The Laughter of the Earth: Forest Law (i)
The Laughter of the Earth: Forest Law (ii)
The Laughter of the Earth: Forest Law (iii)
The Laughter of the Earth: Forest Law (iv)
Chronicles of New Serpantol: The March On Bak'he
Chronicles of New Serpantol: The March On Old Thalos
A rude awakening.
The Laughter of the Earth: Why does it burn? (i)
The Laughter of the Earth: Why does it burn? (ii)
(A Night on the Town)
White Reflection
Intolerance (Part 1)
Intolerance (Part 2 end of a saga)
Disaster by the River
Survival in the Forest
A New Home, A New Life
Returning Home
Revenge Never Dies
Decisions made in haste.
Decisions made in haste. Part II
Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Two)
It Strikes Again
Home At Last
Origins: Prelude to a Dream
Origins: The Dream
Origins: Just a Dream
A Sigh of Silent Resignation
+ A Walk To Remember +
The Light Sculpter, pt.1
The Light Sculpter, pt.2
The Light Sculpter, pt.3
Expression
Musings and Promises
Seen but not (yet) heard
Getting his Voice
Chronicles of Thesh Dridesh (4) - Breaking Chains, The First Fight
Long Lost Brother * A tribute to Savras Shadowblade *
Blood and Mayhem
Alone with his thoughts.
Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Flashback: Ooof Meets Yarbles)
Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Three)
Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Four)
Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Five)
Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Six)
Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Seven)
Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Epi-Log)





Writer: Zedryk
Date Thu Oct 16 11:43:40 2014

To All Atheran Shadow Red_robes Conclave Sebatis Imm RP

Subject Acceptance: Part II



The candles in the priest guild of New Thalos were burning low now. It
was fast approaching midnight, and Zedryk couldn't sleep. He had come a
long way in his training over the past few weeks and his excitement over the
spells he had gained was overwhelming. It had been some time now since
someone named Maracalettin had knowingly or unknowingly solved a serious
dilemma for him. This priest, or at least Zedryk thought they must be a
priest, had provided a document detailing the tenets of Sebatis. Zedryk's
attempts at finding a temple had met with failure, but at least he had these
guidelines to work with. He was even happier to discover that the words
sparked something to life within him. He could live by these laws. Part of
him was afraid that something in the doctrine might conflict with his world
view, but his confidence in the ways of his God was rewarded. He thought
back to the meeting with the crusader Atherin and the discussion they had
about the nature of the balance, and as he closed his eyes he found himself
back in the cathedral of ice on Icewall.

The knight gave him a blank stare. "Now you know why the churches are
hidden." Zedryk nodded solemnly. "The god of honor looks tah bae in dire
straits. Mah poor balance shall bae All screwed up fer uh while Ah
suppose." "You know our cause, priest" said the crusader with a steely tone
to his voice. "The scales are meant to tip and break." A low heartfelt
chuckle burst from the dwarf at those words. "Tha scales will right
themselves and the conflict will continue." Atherin glanced at the statue
of Necrucifer in the middle of the room. "Most worship from being lost.
They are given a cause that can guide them. Most also follow blindly. This
is how His children have found followers." Zedryk nodded in agreement.
"Causes bae nothing but tools. Lost spirits bae inefficient. Causes guide
and harness tha potential so thar can bae progress. Chosen or given to ye,
causes bae important. So how's tha return looking? Will Ah bae building
mah temple ta Sebatis just t'ave old Necrucifer come down in fiery
destruction tah burn it to tha ground?" Atherin allowed a smirk to flit
across his features for a split second. "Doubtful. There are more
important matters at hand."




Writer: Zedryk
Date Thu Oct 16 13:12:56 2014

To All Atheran Shadow Red_robes Conclave Sebatis Imm RP

Subject Acceptance: Part III



Atheran said "The false gods who claim honor, neutrality, and light.
They are who we seek to destroy." "Ah'm hopen he don't bae claimin tah bae
an expert on neutrality, cause thar bae others who understand it tru" said
the dwarf in a stern voice Zedryk knelt and prayed for the blessing of
wisdom and sighed in releaf as A feeling of divinity overtook his presence.
"You speak of Kwainin" asked the knight. The dwarf gave a snort. "Not only
him but tha rest o his ilk. But fer mae at least, Kwainin bae missing tha
point that Gods like Raij and Zandreya understand. ' The knight seemed a
bit confused. "Zandreya and Raije have a cause of their own." Zedryk stood
up and began to walk around the temple as they spoke. "Ye bae right.
Causes again." Atheran stood up as well and took on a rigid stance by the
statue. "Once the scales are no more, He shall take His throne. God will
stand and those who oppose will be enslaved or thrown into the abyss."
"Stickin tah mae God's law Ah can no bae allowing maeself tah bae enslaved.
So ah bae hoping that yer abyss bae nicely decorated when Ah'm a'plunging.
Ah'm gonna put one o these here statues in Sebatis' temple someday. Tha
thing looks almost alive." The little dwarf had finished his first trip
around the statue and looked over at Atheran with a wide grin splitting his
face. Atheran stepped closer toward the priest. It was then that Zedryk
noticed that this man towered above him in hight and had been tested in
battles the likes of which the dwarf could only imagine. "Abolyths will
feast upon you." "Ug I hate them fishy beasts. Tha ones that bae attackin
mae in tha oceans?" Asked the dwarf. Atheran shook his head. "Darker
beasts. But never mind that. Zandreya and Raije do not care who dies in
their conquest. Their own goals are All that matter." "But looky here"
said Zedryk waving a finger in the crusader's direction. "They expand their
cause across the alignments, not favoring only followers of good or evil.
Tha gods o magic have come up with a similar agreement, though there bae no
one god of magic with followers in All pantheons." Atheran paused for a
moment and gazed at the dwarf with a victorious expression. "As does
Malachive. Zedryk took a step closer, forgetting his momentary discomfort
towards the knight of Storm Keep. "Baeing neutral means playing with tha
scales. Not sitting back and doing nothing." Atheran nodded and waited for
him to elaborate further. Zedryk peered up with an intense gaze into the
eyes of this follower of darkness. "Austinian. What has he done fer
retaliatory action against tha darkness's asault on tha pantheon of light?"
"Nothing. You are quite right." "Also, Not up ta tha neutral gods tah bae
puttin things right again. Their score should bae with Malachive. Atheran
waved a hand impatiently. "I thought that was your kins goal?" Zedryk's
eyes took on a distant look. "Mah kin should bae workin ta keep the swayin
o tha scales in motion. Nay tah stop it in place at a rested balance. Fer
that would stop progress as surely as Necrucifer's plan, and Austinian's too
if he has one." The man stared at the dwarf with a surprised look on his
face. "That's an interesting view." Zedryk nodded several times. "What
would the darkness bae without light? And otherways round." "All powerful"
said the knight quickly. "With no light, darkness would just bae how things
are. Tha growth o tha power would stagnate and remain forever at tha same
level fer there would bae none strong enough to contest it. Where as when
tha two combat one another. Progress ensues. Gods needin tah make new
dragons, giants, heralds, and who knows wha bae comin next. Now tha's
exciting." Zedryk snapped out of his memory of his chat with Atheran of
Storm Keep and looked around the priest guild. The room was empty and the
candle was out. "Time fer sleep."




Writer: Sabaktes
Date Thu Oct 16 14:30:28 2014




Writer: Drondon
Date Fri Oct 17 01:04:27 2014




Writer: Arinik
Date Fri Oct 17 21:39:28 2014




Writer: Benthic
Date Sat Oct 18 00:50:39 2014




Writer: Tyrinx
Date Sat Oct 18 00:54:49 2014




Writer: Erebaal
Date Sun Oct 19 17:50:25 2014

To All Chaos Scorn ( Malachive )

Subject Changes I


Blood soaked the packed earth of the fighting pit, turning the dust into
a viscous slurry that made footing treacherous. Discarded body parts had
been left where they lay, the product of the day's slaughter left to fester
under the Tropican sun until the killing was done.

Judging by the chosen executioner that day, it would be awhile.

Like savagery incarnate, the crimson-clad butcher of Chaos hewed his way
through the ranks of prisoners taken on raids abroad, warriors who
surrendered to the martial might of Chaos in whatever skirmishes they had
engaged in around the world. Many of their number were battered, their
wounds untended and their injuries compounded by the "persuasion" used by
some of the more dim-witted followers of Chaos. Proud fighters looked on
with dead eyes, watching as, one by one, they were thrown into the fighting
pit to do battle with the blood-soaked Word Bearer.

Each was given a dull weapon with which to defend himself, its edges worn
down to near-uselessness. Some of the weapon were much too small for use in
the hands of larger men, some far too large for the occasional wilder elf or
amazonian fighter to wield without two hands, but it mattered little.
Against Erebaal Phaeron, not very much mattered.

Another man fell, clutching his abdomen. Ropy entrails pushed against his
bloodied hands, and he gurgled as he looked up at his killer. A fiendish
visage met the panicked stare, and a blur of desecrated steel served as the
man's last image before his head parted from his shoulders, tumbling through
the dirt and coming to rest like so much discarded refuse. Two cultists,
their faces masked as much against the stench as any attempt at anonymity,
leapt down into the pit and dragged the man's corpse away, even as the
gathered cultists jeered and howled at the bloodsport provided while they
were free from their various duties.

One of the corpse bearers chuckled as he hauled the bleeding cadaver, guts
strung out behind it like a visceral train. His goblin stink could not be
masked by the cowl and mask he wore, and his mangled common spoke of a
less-than-adequate schooling in its finer points, 'Word Beara's been 'avin'
an off day it seems, eh boy?
'

The other corpse bearer chose this exact moment to surprise his companion
by, in fact, being a woman, her voice husky but undeniably feminine with the
traditional musical lilt of elvish, 'I do not know what you mean, my
brother. He is in better form than ever since-..
'

The goblin nearly dropped his arm of the corpse in shock, peering at the elf
through the ragged holes in his mask before recovering himself, ''Is
fightin' style's got All weird, lady. C'mon an 'elp me get dis git in the
pit an' I'll show ya.
'

A quick disposal later, a headless, gutless body tumbling into the shallow
depression that would serve as the disposal grounds of Chaos' victims, found
the cultists back at the lip of the fighting pit, where the action was
escalating once more.

A lumbering half ogre, his right eye seared shut by a branded eight-pointed
star of Chaos, had recovered the weapon of his fallen predecessor, wielding
both now with a practiced ease. He loomed, taller by a few inches than the
Word Bearer, and rippled with musculature to rival the armored bulk of the
shorter man.

The Word Bearer growled, a feral ululation as he dug his heels into the
murky slime at his feet, bracing for the coming onslaught. With a hoarse
shout, the ogre dug in, barreling across the short expanse of the fighting
pit and into the reach of the greataxe perched on Erebaal's shoulder.




Writer: Erebaal

Date Sun Oct 19 18:14:29 2014

To All Chaos Scorn ( Malachive )

Subject Changes II


'I do not see anything strange, brother mine. He is fighting well so far.
' The observaton came with the clattering of arms, the massive bearded axe
sweeping down to curtail the frenzied rush in a clash of sparks and grinding
steel, notching the shoddy weapons outfitting the ogreking.

Erebaal took a step back to disengage, grunting with the effort as he swung
his monstrous weapon two-handed, smashing a divot out of the earthen wall of
the arena and earning a glancing blow, the half-ogre's attempt to dodge
meeting with limited success. Blood weltered from the wound, flowing down
the beaten ogre's chest in narrow rivulets.

A gravelly chuckle, like stones grinding, emanated from the enclosing helm
of the Word Bearer, stance lowering into a predatory crouch. 'No, dats tha
thing, lady. 'E normally fights like 'e's possessed. Woulda let tha git
break 'is swords on 'is armor den strangled 'im wif 'is own guts. 'E's
fightin' like 'e's got a bit of sense in 'is 'ead, or else somefin's takin'
away tha anger we know an' fear.
'

The masked face of the elven woman pondered her goblin compatriot for a
moment, 'Some would say that this would make him even more dangerous, my
brother. He has been marked by a greater power, they say. By the greatest
power.
'

An incredulous snort met the statement as the clash of arms below continued,
increasing in savage violence as the ogrekin delved into his reserves of
desperate strength, raining blows with a zeal. 'Wot? Malachive?
Malachive's dead, boss 'ere says so least twice a day. We's fightin' for da
memory of tha greatest god as ever wos. Only got wot gave a fig 'bout
mortals 'cause 'e grew up wif em, not lordin' over 'em from tha 'eavens.
'


The elven woman took a step back and turned to the side as Erebaal's
monstrous axe flew up over the lip of the pit, landing hard and cracking the
earth as the bearded head of the weapon split the ground. Both cultists
gazed into the pit with interest now, even as her words flowed slowly,
fuelled by preoccupied thought, 'But you know what they call him now, yes?
What the new honor bestowed on our Bearer of the Word is?
' The ogre,
bellowing his hate and sensing victory, followed his disarm with a feral
charge, swords thrusting, seeking weakness in the daunting armor of his foe.
The Word Bearer held his ground, lowering his head into the charge. A dull
blade glanced off of his vambrace as he raised am arm, the other snapping on
his ghoulish breastplate. A snarl rewarded the impacts, and a gauntletted
hand seized the sword-bearing wrist of the ogre.

'They call him Everchosen now. '

The snapping of bone heralded the disarmament of the ogre, wrist mashed into
a useless sack of splintered fragments. A follow-up strike left the ogre
winded, spiked metal punching into bare flesh and sheathing the Everchosen's
hatred in unyielding steel. The ogre doubled over, saliva dripping from his
maw, and saw only the rising likeness of a screeching skull whipping toward
him before the Word Bearer's knee caught him right above the nose,
shattering the bridge and blinding him. The mangled ogre staggered,
threatening to lose his balance and tumble, when a leathery grip seized him
by the throat, hauling him back upright. Through bleary eyes, the ogre
looked down at his foe, musculature straining to manhandle the larger man.
One hand was around his neck, while the other was drawn back as though to-

The following punch knocked out teeth, while the next finished his jaw in a
popping crackle of ruined bone. The ogre fell now, unsupported as the Word
Bearer made use of both hands, standing over his enemy and pummeling the
doomed soul squarely in the face until a bloody mash of bone and brain oozed
from the veritably-concave ruin of a cranium.




Writer: Erebaal

Date Sun Oct 19 18:28:35 2014

To All Chaos Scorn ( Malachive )

Subject Changes III


Grisly work done, the Word Bearer rose from his feral crouch, the rage
leaving him in near of an instant. His cultists shied away, only too
familiar with the volatile humours of their leader. The crimson-clad
butcher walked up the narrow slope carved for the purpose of departure and
made his way around the perimeter of the pit, making for the corpse-haulers.
The goblin shivered, feet rooted in place, while the elf remained aloof,
gazing through the holes in her mask at the approaching warmaster.

His bulk seemed to defy comprehension for a mere man, the very fact of his
movement under so much armor being a clear challenge to the very prospect of
possibility. He was a monstrous being up close, and the goblin cultist gave
a squeak as a mailed glove twitched and an arm extended in his direction,
visions of a bad end like the wretch in the pit below running behind his
yellowed eyes.

With the crack of broken earth, the Word Bearer retrieved his weapon,
grunting with the effort of pulling it from where it had sunk. Dead dust
trickled from the blade as he propped it against a spiked pauldron, looking
down upon his cultists. His voice was the grating of bones mashing
together, the essence of visceral pain given audible form, 'In order to
create a leader, something had to be sacrificed. I am diminished even as I
am Ascended. The fury that was is fury no more, the insensate anger of the
Word Bearer buried under the monument of the Everchosen. You shall help me
find that rage once more.
'

The pronouncement came with the solemnity of a judge passing a sentence, and
then he was gone, turning away from his cultists and making his way back
into the pit. The smirk in the elven woman's voice was unmistakable, 'Still
don't believe, brother mine?
'

The goblin shook his head, unable to keep the tremble from his limbs as he
looked into the bloodied pit, 'N-nah. Ya got it right, lady. Let's take
care of dis'n an' take a moment fer nerves.
' He began to climb into the
pit, almost slipping with nerveless fingers. His elven partner gave a
chuckle and followed, moving with much greater alacrity to retrieve the
mangled remains of the half-ogre.

Transporting such a bulky corpse proved to be a much harder chore, but after
struggling and a little assistance from other onlookers ringing the outside
of the fighting pit, they found themselves underway once more. The journey
passed in silence, but for grunts of effort and muttered oaths as a root or
rock or depression caught a foot and caused a stumble. They had almost
reached the dumping grounds when the bellow reached them, shouted through
the thin treeline with a zeal that bordered on the familiar.

'SEND IN TWO! LET US SEE HOW THEY FARE IN PAIRS!'




Writer: Jennalee

Date Tue Oct 21 10:25:55 2014

To All Imm RP

Subject A New Home in the Jewel



Jennalee sat at the old wooden dock that no longer served a ships purpose
neither for Althainia or New Thalos. Since she left Althainia and moved to
the Desert Jewel, she felt so much like she had a family now. With her
father who took off long ago, her fiance who passed two years ago, and her
moms passing just a year ago, she needed a home and here is where she found
it.

Jennalee looked down at the water, her feet dangling from the dock and
smiled, how the times have changed so quickly. She knew she was in love but
did not know the way to tell him. She felt it was a bit too soon but how
can one ignore how she felt? This half elven fellow had stolen her heart.
There was not anything she could do. They sat and spoke for hours as he
joined her in the Jewel.

Jennalee could never be happier. Since Braedan's passing in the war, the
loss of her fiance weighed heavily in her heart then a year later her
mother, so much pain in such a short time. To find love again was almost
like a miracle to her. She looked to the sky and watched a few gulls fly by
feeling like one of them, full of freedom, soaring with the winds, happily
together, and just loving the breeze under their wings.

Jennalee felt the same way and now she was home in New Thalos.




Writer: Aelysse

Date Tue Oct 21 10:31:25 2014




Writer: Sindraste
Date Thu Oct 23 04:16:22 2014

To All Azheri Bloodlust Conclave ( Immortal Storyline Religion Fatale Drakkara )

Subject Trial of the Archmagus


The shadows of the forest moved with a life of their own, though what
they hid had no life, itself. Murky, indistinct shapes slithered through
the mists of the Great Forest during the midnight hour, of no natural origin
as to possess the mastery of the dark that they flaunted so easily.

The Warlord of the Dungeon had no fear of such things, for they obeyed the
Champion of the Darkness.

'Lethe'lain, be visible for once. I know you are here. '

The shadows surrounding Azheri Deza'th hesitated, if possible even seeming a
little affronted before they poured into a single, distinct shape before the
Warlord, taking on the dimensions of a cadaverous elf swathed in voluminous
layers, a dark red overcoat murky in the dim light of the late hour.
Despite the lack of natural light, however, crimson spectacles still glinted
and glowed, as though lit from within by some fell power, 'Hmph. No taste
for the theatric, I see, my dear Warlord. All too often, you are willing to
let me follow, if you already know I do so. What is different about this
evening?
'

Azheri offered nothing more than a coarse chuckle, shaking his head as he
looked the Lich over, 'You have shown a desire to join my Dungeon for a long
time, and have served my men well enough. They vouch for you, but you are
not yet ready. You are untested.
'

Lethe'lain bristled, Sindraste's body following suit. Fangs bared in a
sneer and a huff of irritation was torn from a feminine throat, the overall
effect most unladylike, 'I give you bodies, Warlord. I give you heads and
trophies. The hearts and blood, I keep, yes, but I give you the majority of
the remaining spoils. I've proven my power. What more of a test can you
put before me?
'

It was Azheri's turn to look cross, 'Mind your tongue, Lich. I've already
given you a compliment. Consider this another challenge for you.
' He
rested his hand on one of his sheathed weapons, casting a look around as
though for any other intruders in the dim copse of the Great Forest. Seeing
none, he continued, irritation abating as Sindraste's snit passed, 'You have
a great deal of power over death, taken from the fools of the Conclave. You
use it better than they can, and I want you to show them that.
' The
Warlord gave a wolfish smile as he gestured to the moons above, All three in
passing stages of waxing and waning, 'Bring me the heads of three of their
Archmagi, wherever you may find them. Their number are few, but not all
keep permanent residence in the Towers. Kill who you wish, but make sure
that their deaths are pleasing to the God of Darkness and His Son, Death.
'

The Lich seemed pensive for a moment, outline becoming indistinct as the
shadows fought to reclaim their own. Murky tendrils of inky black seemed at
once to radiate from and consume the thickly-clad elf, and it was a short
time before a dark chuckle escaped the necromancer. The sound was ugly, a
guttural laugh completely at odds with the slight frame of its maker- deep
as to be from a different voice altogether. Vicious fangs presented
themselves once more as the vampire gave a too-wide smile, the expression
empty of anything but a predatory desire to showcase each and every glinting
tooth, 'As you wish, my dear Warlord. I'm certain I will have my fun with
this, and shall be back within the month with your prizes. Try not to miss
me too greatly.
'

The shadows writhed as the Lich stepped back into their fold and was seen no
more, the oppressive presence in the copse fading with the pseudo-elf.
Azheri shook his head bemusedly at the woman's passing, 'I'll try. '
Business concluded, he began the journey back to the Dungeon. There was
little else to do now but wait.




Writer: Mezlak

Date Thu Oct 23 10:38:07 2014




Writer: Prosimur

Date Thu Oct 23 12:05:59 2014




Writer: Keryann

Date Thu Oct 23 18:36:27 2014

To All Imm RP ( Zandreya )

Subject Leaving Arkane



Keryann waited at the Arkane dock for her ship to arrive. How she was
going to miss her ex-father-in-law who now became her father. Her thoughts
of him and her adopted mother made her cry as her ship arrived. She boarded
the ship slowly looking back at at every step. How much she was going to
miss them.

Arkane was not the home she had remembered, the Arkane she remembered was
filled with laughter and love, a husband she loved with All her heart, and a
home they built together. After fifty one years Arkane had become her
prison, a prison of loneliness, a prison of anger, a prison of pain, and a
prison of horribly sad memories. How she missed the life she once had, the
husband that loved her with no reserve, and the home they had dreamed of
together. But All of that was left behind now.

As the ship slowly pulled into the port of Althainia, she tried her best to
be hopeful and think of positive things. But the pain still followed her as
she walked off the ship and headed her way into New Thalos. She walked into
the Registrars office and saw a gentleman sitting there and she spoke to
him, he was quite friendly, as he had her register herself in the books of
New Thalos. It is there where her next chapter will begin.





Writer: Rikam

Date Thu Oct 23 20:26:45 2014

To All Verminasia imm storyline devion

Subject The Laughter of the Earth: Captain Oldbeard and the Julia Marie (i)


From the Journal of Rikam Oneiroi, Vagrant

I set sail this morning aboard the smuggler sloop Julia Marie, which I am to
understand is named after a rather unpleasant spirit known to haunt the
ghastly little cove in the Blood Sea from which this ship makes berth. The
crew speaks of old Bloody Marie in hushed tones, if at all, and it seems
that they'd just as soon forget where the stories of her have come from.

Now I've met the Spirit of the Blood Sea before, and I'm here to tell you it's
got nothing to do with this ship, nor any woman named Julia. Superstitious
country rubes. Gods bless 'em.

I'd bet my last silver that this Julia Marie was a former lover of the
captain's (which, in my mind, makes her a uniquely brave lass) and that
because their courtship with one another was terminated well after the
naming of the ship, the good captain was forced to re-color the poor
woman's name and memory with a more sinister past.

The captain, for his part, is the most peculiar fellow I've ever lain eyes on,
and I've seen All kinds. I haven't yet decided if he is a very gangly dwarf, a
very short human, or a very awkwardly put together gnome. In any case,
he has no beard. His crew calls him Captain Oldbeard, and I've not yet
stopped laughing at this.

Oldbeard stands at roughly half the height of an average man, and his
right shoulder slumps at a dramatically uneven angle from his left. The
adjoining arm is cut off just beneath the elbow, and he's given to waggling
the stump at people when he wishes to emphasize a point.

His face is a most unfortunate latticework of scars and frown lines, so
much so that I am forced to imagine an acorn that was plucked from the
ugliest branch of the Ugly Tree, planted in an ugly bog, tended by an ugly
gardener, and then mutated into some new breed of ugly thistle bush
through which this already unpleasant and misshapen fellow was then
forced through. He is also missing his left eye and makes no attempt to
conceal the empty socket with either eyepatch or bandage.

Obtaining passage aboard the Marie was a simple matter. She makes
regular seasonal journeys down river to receive cargo from Camaraenaus.
The arrangement, from what I can tell, is maintained by my son Randal (or
at least one of my Enforcers charged with pursuing avenues of trade
outside the bounds of Verminasian law and taxation.) The exports they
deliver fetch a fair price in Icewall, which in turn keeps Oldbeard and his
crew sailing with relative security. It's good to have an old smuggler like
that in your pocket.

I made no indication that I was, in fact, the very Baron who kept their
pockets lined and hull full. Anonymity is key to this foolish adventure of
mine. Fortunately it was a simple thing to draft a note in the Baron's hand
and mark it with his seal and signature. "You are instructed," it read, "to
deliver this man to his desired destination. Your continued business with
our province depends on it. No questions asked."

Oldbeard was stoic in his acceptance of the instructions. The disturbance
was obviously unwelcome, but the man is a professional. He knows how to
adapt.

We reach open water early tomorrow. Gods but I can't wait.




Writer: Rikam

Date Thu Oct 23 20:36:44 2014

To All Verminasia imm storyline devion

Subject The Laughter of the Earth: Captain Oldbeard and the Julia Marie (ii)


Don't ask me why I'm doing this. I haven't a clue.

"For my health," is what I told people back home. "To get some fresh air
and open space, that I might treat an old and relentless ailment." Not
exactly a like. Not even nearly the whole truth.

This is one of those many cases where the truth is just too bizarre a thing
for me to wrap up in words.

At any rate, it's a bit brilliant, sailing as an anonymous passenger on
someone else's ship. I haven't traveled like this since I was a young lad,
unburdened by rank or responsibility or expectation. All Oldbeard asks of
me is that I stay out of his bloody way and not make a fuss. As for the
crew, I'm practically invisible. Just another oddity of their trade that they'll
be glad to see the end of. A stranger and an oddity I may be, but this lot is
far too clever to believe I'm nobody. The captain, on behalf of his crew,
has taken it upon himself to prod at the mystery of me. A sensible move.
This crew is a close one, and any unexplored mysteries could easily
unbalance their morale.

"Mr. Quill," Oldbeard called out to me. It took me a second to recognize
the pseudonym I had given him. "I trust yer accommodation is
comfortable enough. Was no small thing, clearin' out space in the old fer
ta give one useless passenger the luxury of his own private quarters." It
was well into midday, and we'd long since made our tack northward. The
Arkanian coast was a distant strip of land spanning the western horizon.

"Aye, Cap'n," I said with a sidelong grin to the stumpy old man. "Your
hospitality's a wonder of a thing indeed, though if it suits ya better to
consider me as cargo, All the better."

"Bloodae right," Oldbeard grumbled. "Passengers -pay- their bloody way,
useless as they are." He waved the stump of his arm at me and turned
his one-eyed glare seaward.

"They do at that," I said with a chuckle, "Though rest assured this cargo is
still paid for in full, aye? By powers far and above the likes of you or I."
Oldbeard snorted at that. We both remained silent for several long
moments as we stood there, elbow to stumpy elbow, leaning against the
ship's railing as the Marie made her way through the wind and sea like an
old tortoise pushing her way through a vast, albeit yielding, trail.

After a long while, he spoke.

"Ya've got he clothes of a pauper, like one of the gutterslum lot from
Verminasia's capital. You've got the smell and shabbiness to match." His
voice was gruff, but it was more an appraisal than scrutiny. "Ya've the
makeup of a vagrant, aye, but ya walk about the ship like ya've lived
aboard it your whole life. 'N the way ya watch the crew at work...Ya make
a good show of hidin' it, but you're far from clueless when it comes to
their business."

I grinned at that and gave a low nod. Oldbeard accepted it as tacit
encouragement and continued on, "If I had to guess, I'd say Armada
trained, maybe even an officer, but the Baron don't pull in naval resources
for provincial work, do he?"

"I reckon not," I said with a shrug. "That's what he's got you lot for, eh?"

Oldbeard gave another curt snort. "A foreigner then, though your
Verminasian's good, I'll grant ya that. Might be you're one of them sailors
the Baron keeps off the books then, aye? Heard rumors of them. The
Baron-Admrial's given to All manner of games like that, if the stories can
be believed."

I allowed myself another chuckle and shrugged. "Could be, aye. But if
that's the case, mate, you'll want to be a bit more careful with questions
like that, yeah?"

Oldbeard snorted back what must have been the entire cluttered contents
of his ancient, broken sinuses and spat them out over the railing. "Just
checkin' the waters, Mister Quill. No point in insultin' each other's
intelligence needlessly. Keep yer bloody secrets, but ya'd best do me and
mine the courtesy of keepin' us out of 'em once ya've got where you're
headed."




Writer: Rikam

Date Thu Oct 23 20:38:31 2014

To All Verminasia imm storyline devion

Subject The Laughter of the Earth: Captain Oldbeard and the Julia Marie (iii)


The air is getting chilly, I like it.

It gives a sharpness to the senses, a sort of sobering clarity that separates
one's perception from the sweltering torpor of a warm bed, or regular
meals, or a safe, steady daily routine. The cold demands action. It
demands decisive motion. Already I can feel the Tiredness peeling away
from my mind. That sickly veil has plagued me for too long that I've nearly
forgotten the depth and expansiveness of which my mind is capable.

The sea is always a beautiful thing to behold, but here, as we approach
the shores of Icewall, I find it All renewed with vivid profundity. It is not only
a vast, far reaching world. It is a vast, far reaching world rich with
opportunity.

I am waking up once more. The depths are full. Devion be praised.




Writer: Rikam

Date Thu Oct 23 20:41:17 2014

To All Verminasia imm storyline devion

Subject The Laughter of the Earth: Captain Oldbeard and the Julia Marie (iv)


"You, Pigeon, are a vermin scoundrel and a bloody fool wreck of a liar
besides. And aye, mate, I love ya for it, but fond sentiment's never kept
me from takin' a fool's money. I'll raise ya fifty." I reached out to my stack
of coins and, without really counting, tossed a generous handful into the
pot. To his credit, Pigeon hardly flinched.

"Right then, Quill, ya damned showboat," he said to me, "I'll not be
bluffed out of my fair winnings this time. You and I both know who's got
the stronger hand between us, and All the swagger in the world won't
convince me that you've got the high ground."

There was nothing left to do but shrug and grin. For a bit of theatrical
effect, I turned my attention toward rolling a coin across my knuckles. It's
an old gambit, I know, but I'm a sucker for the classics.

Pigeon had a crap hand, that much was obvious. He'd given it away with
that last little jibe of his. Most men, when backed against an
uncomfortable wall, will begin talking just a little too much. Most
gamblers, anyway. I should know, after all. I've been running my mouth
since the day I figured out how to speak.

My hand was rubbish too, obviously, but Pigeon was already forgetting
that. He was more concerned, now, with his own dwindling pile of coins,
and with the fact that every other player had the sense to fold from the
get go, and with the notion that he was far too invested to cut his losses.

I'm not really sure why, but some people will stray so bloody far from their
good sense just to see me lose.

"Piss on your mother's grave, ya miserable son of a thieving goat." Then
he hesitated. "I'll raise ya twenty."

Ah hell. This brave idiot was ready to drive himself into the ground on the
sliver of a hope that his card was higher than mine. The odds were poor
for either of us and, at this point, winning between two garbage hands
would have been just as disappointing as a loss. I had to really sell this
one.

"You're brave, lad, but you're stupid as well. I've cleared out the rest of
this wee ship's crew, aye, and I've no doubt ya'd like to see your mates'
losses avenged. Go on 'n look at 'em. Aye, that's the way. Have a look.
See how they're on the edge of their seats?" And indeed, they were.
"Right now, boyo, you're their champion. You're their gods damned
bloody hero! The whole lot of ya have gone head to head with the
mysterious Mr. Quill, and here you are. The last man standing."

Pigeon held my gaze, stone faced and utterly refusing to look away.
Inwardly, I smiled at the beads of sweat forming on his brow.

"They want to see ya win, mate. They NEED to see ya win. This game's
gone on far too long, and I've played it far too well. You're their last
vestige of hope. If the gold can't be in their pockets, it may as well go
home with one of their own. You can see it on their faces, can't you? 'Quill
has got to go down.'"

The whole crew hung on the silence. Pigeon's finger gave a slight twitch.
Time to wrap this up.

"Tell me, mate. Do ya reckon now's the moment? Do ya really think this is
the hand to end it? Is it worth this trip's wage? Your savings? You lose
this hand, and I figure you'll be workin' this smuggler's route 'till the day
ya fall over dead. If ya do, if ya REALLY believe ya've got it, then I'll tell
ya what, mate..." And with All the gravity I could muster, I took both my
hands and pushed the whole sum of my gold into the middle. "All in."

There was nothing left to do but wait.

Pigeon did not look well. He'd long since lain his cards face down on the
table. His face was a blotchy swamp of sweat and nerves. He looked
pale. Poor kid. He looked down at his hands, then out to the pot, then to
his hands again, then to my hands, and then, with raised puppy-dog
eyebrows, back to me. I found myself praying that he wouldn't begin to
cry.

"Fold," he said. He barely managed to whisper it.




Writer: Rikam

Date Thu Oct 23 20:45:46 2014

To All Verminasia imm storyline devion

Subject The Laughter of the Earth: Captain Oldbeard and the Julia Marie (v)


Some notes about old Oldbeard:

He's no naval captain, that's for bloody sure, and I'd bet the lives of my
children that he never was one. You can tell something about a naval
officer, former or otherwise. Even amongst the most irreverent of us,
there's a certain application of order, of decisiveness, of sharp precision.
Not in everything, but in All the places where it counted.

Oldbeard had All of these things, sure, but the color of it was different. Not
lesser, not greater. He simply learned them from a different place.

The point is this: Oldbeard is no soldier. He's a businessman. His crew are
his employees, and a loss to his crew is a net loss to his business.

He is not one to suffer losses lightly.




Writer: Rikam

Date Thu Oct 23 20:47:41 2014

To All Verminasia imm storyline devion

Subject The Laughter of the Earth: Captain Oldbeard and the Julia Marie (vi)


We are mere hours from our mooring in the Blood Sea. I will make my
departure from the Marie and her crew there. They'll be glad to see the
end of me and I, for my part, will be pleased to be away from their glares.
No one takes kindly to loss or humiliation, and that night of poker left them
hung with far too much of both. Perhaps I was too greedy.

At any rate, the sight of land has been a comfort as we've made our way
along Icewall's eastern shores these past few nights. I've always relished
my voyages through open water, but I find myself equally eager, in this
case, to reach dry land and begin my journey proper. There is much to do
yet.

"I've figured out what ye are, lad," said Oldbeard. We'd made our final tack
through the river, and he'd decided to join me at my little spot along the
ship's railing. It was the first time anyone aboard the ship had spoken to
me since last night's card game.

Everything about this man puts me off balance. He's too gnarled in
appearance, and too stoic for it. Too direct. Too bloody clever. He's the
sort of man who takes no pleasure in cheap parlor tricks but (and with
absolutely no care for the showmanship of it) could very easily reproduce
any number of them. All deadpan. No expression. Bloody irritating.

"That a fact, Cap'n? Well go on then, let's have a laugh." I was keen to
have this conversation over with as quickly as possible. No good could
have come of it.

"You're a pilgrim. I've seen your kind before. The tricks, the guises, the
glib manner of conduct. Ya don't know why, but ya feel the call. I'll bet my
ship that you'll follow it blindly to the ends of the earth." Oldbeard snorted
and spat a wad of phlegm into the water. "You're a faithful man of a
faithless god, Mr. Quill. Mind your footing, or this little adventure of yours
will lead you to your end."

I hadn't the slightest idea of what he was talking about. Still don't, in fact,
and I told him as much. "What in All the hells are you on about, eh? This is
government business, innit? Nothin' to do with any sort of...lark." And it
wasn't until I actually said it that I realized just how deep of a lie it was.

It was Oldbeard's turn to grin and shrug. "Do as you like, Mister Quill, but
in your last moments alive in this world, I urge you to remember that you
were warned. For the fee of last night's winnings, I'll take ya back to
Arkania safely. That'll be that. Death in the wildereness of this
godsforsaken continent is the only other outcome for ya. There is no other
way this pilgrimage of yours can end."

And that last bit cleared it up well enough. Whether it was a threat or a
gambit, I wasn't sure, but the man wanted his crew's money back. As I
reflect on it now, it seems to me he's a simpler fellow than I gave him
credit for. In the end, it's always about a fool's pride.

Well he can bugger off. Icewall awaits, and I'm keen to set out as soon as
I'm able.




Writer: Natall

Date Sat Oct 25 12:59:12 2014




Writer: Elrei
Date Sat Oct 25 16:28:21 2014

To All Althainia Aliera Taliena ( Imm RP )

Subject Bless this... home?



"Can I ask something perhaps a bit unorthodox of you, Cynosure?"
Given such a question, Elrei was uncertain what the Regent could possibly be
about to request. Curiosity demanded he listen. "Would you bless the rooms
of the castle?
"

---

He began in the throne room. Symbolically the center of the Empire
itself, physically the throne room was the hub of the palace as well. Elrei
stood before the thrones themselves, a lightly smoking censer gently swaying
from the chain in his hand and emitting the scents of agarwood, saffron, and
rose. He took a few moments, clearing his mind in preparation, and with his
first step began the chant.

"Love from above, Love from below..."

Spiraling outward with measured steps, the process was a long one by most
standards. He broke from his chant only when thirst demanded it, and then
moved on to the next room. The other rooms of the castle radiated outward,
each providing a path away and back to the throne room. At the end of a
path, Elrei did not simply move on to the next unseen room, but slowly,
methodically spoke his chant again as he made his way back to the thrones.
They were the center, they were the focus, and they would be the seal.

"Love from within, let All hatred go..."

The censer required additional incense at intervals, which Elrei kept in
his other hand to pour upon the smoldering charcoal within the bowl. This
ritual was more than a simple blessing, being also a cleansing and expulsion
of any negative or malicious energies already present. He hoped it would
serve the purpose of the Regent's request.

"Let only Love enter, may only Love leave..."

By the time he made his way back along the entryway into the throne room
once again to end the blessing, the Cynosure felt exhausted. His lips,
despite the occasional sip, were parched and dry, his throat warm and
threatening to scratch. Several hours had passed since he began the ritual,
and even with All his usual patience and composure he had to check himself
to ensure he did not begin to rush. Returning at last to the thrones, he
turned and raised his voice above the soft tones he had been chanting in to
finalize the rite. With its completion, this room might be nearly as
consecrated as a temple, though it would take many such dedications to cause
the stones here to truly absorb the spiritual energy, not a single blessing.

"By the Will of the Mother, this blessing I weave."




Writer: Taarg

Date Sun Oct 26 04:40:23 2014

To All IMM Roleplay

Subject Conversation, the Gods and Battle



A plump and slightly overweight man dressed in somewhat tattered grey
robes, came panting over the hill towards the nomad village. Upon spying
Taarg, striding along the same path, he rushed over. "Good afternoon, my
friend! Might I have a moment of your time?"
He struggled for breath as
the hulking minotaur kept loping along, his axe ringing against his armor
with every stride.

"You see, the thing is, I'm trying out for the Gray Church, and I thought I
would get some donations, you know, prove my worth! You warrior types must
come across All kinds of things you don't need!"

An awkward pause ensued, as the man waited expectantly, struggling to keep
pace.

"Well," he tried again, painfully cheerful, "I know that Austinian rewards
good deeds!"


Taarg stopped abruptly, unnoticing as the bumbling supplicant ran into his
broad back. Taarg snorted in disgust, and began rolling his shoulders.

"Well, Which God then, pulls your belief my friend? I know that Nadrik
would possibly appeal to your particular skills in battle! Perhaps he would
Like you to help me?" The man pleaded.

Taarg stopped abruptly, unnoticing as the bumbling supplicant ran into his
broad back. He snorted at the scent in the air in disgust, and began
rolling his shoulders.

"Well, Which God then, pulls your belief my friend? I know that Nadrik
would possibly appeal to your particular skills in battle! Perhaps he would
like you to help me?"
The man pleaded.

Taarg grunted as he unlimbered his axe from across his back. "God?" He
snorted. "No Gods here." "What do you mean, God is everywhere, he sees
Everything!"


Taarg rumbled "Little man. There is this." He raised his clenched fist.
"This." He raised his gore encrusted axe. "No else."

"But..."

Taarg snorted, pawing the ground. Rolling his shoulders. "AND THIS, IS
POWER!"
He bellowed as he lowered his head and charged towards the
village.




Writer: Caterina

Date Mon Oct 27 04:58:09 2014

To All Imm RP ( Zandreya )

Subject A Little Life Begins



Caterina got up in the morning feeling a bit dizzy and sick to her
stomache. She felt funny so she ran to the bathroom and immediately tossed
her cookies. She wondered what was going on that she got up this way. She
felt better so she left the house and went to run some errands or the
Bishop.

As she got to the Bishop, he looked at her and said "Hey sunshine, you look
quite radiant today. What have you done to yourself?"
Caterina looked at
him with a really serious look "I do not feel very radiant, in fact, I feel
quite sick this morning."
The Bishop looked at her closely and pondered a
bit, "You should get some rest then. Go home you can assist me tomorrow."


Caterina took the long walk home, went upstairs, changed into her
nightclothes and went to bed. The next few days were the same thing, she
would get up sick, toss her cookies, and lay back down because she had no
energy to leave her home. As she slept the day away, Silvain got home he
shook her gently to wake her up, sat down on the bed next to her, and spoke
to her softly "Are you alright my love?" He asked worriedly. She looked
at him and smiled softly. "We are going to have a baby." She whispered to
him as she slowly woke up. "What, Are you sure?" She smiled a gentle
smile at him as she nodded slowly. He was shocked and did not speak for a
while, just looking at her.

Silvain looked at her "I don't know if I remember how to be a father" she
looked at him and smiled "Do not worry my prince I know you will make a
great father and I will be here to help, I promise."
He smiled at her as
she said that knowing full well that she will keep her word. She was
starting to tire and she laid down on the bed, sleep starting to catch up
with her. Silvain laid down next to her Still tired my love? She answered
Still tired my prince. She had always called him my prince since they were
dating.

Silvain said "I love the idea of being a father again." She looked at him
and smiled, giving him a kiss as her eyes started getting heavier. "I love
the ideah of giving you another child. Our home will not be empty anymore,
and we get to share our love with the next child."
She said softly.
She yawned a bit cuddling with Silvain as he wrapped his arms around her.
Sleep my love, I shall see you in the morning when you awaken. She
answered softly Sleep well my prince, I cannot wait till morning to be with
you again.
Her eyes closed as she cuddled up to Silvain and fell gently
into a deep sleep.




Writer: Shalrienne

Date Mon Oct 27 14:13:47 2014

To Marauders ( All Imm rp )

Subject The taking of Gallow-held



Coming into camp, Shalrienne first feels the tension clear into her
bones. This is differant than the last battle, they are more prepared.
Frowning, she makes her way to the Commander's tent. 'Fill mea en, where de
we stand?
' Shalrienne blinks as her commander shrugs. 'ye wan' te tell
mae where wae stand Commande' or de I 'ave to pu' ye inte chains?
'

Standing the commander stands, motioning to a map, sprawled on a folding
table. 'We seem to have yet another highlord, so I guess we'll have to do
all this again in a few months.
Shalrienne slams her fist into the
Commander's jaw, sending him crashing to the floor. ' Ye will speak with
respec' or I'll 'ave ye hide Commande'. We ge forward as planned, ef ye
'ave a problem with tha' ye will ans'e te mae.
'

Going over the maps, she starts assigning battalions to quadrants of the
battlefield, preparing for the attack in just short of twelve hours.

==========

Dusk. Looking at the fortress she is about to lead her army to take, she
sees a shadow taking form, slowly getting larger. Someone is coming.
Waiting, Shalrienne watches as the figure steps within a few meters of her.
'The Baroness Marstay wishes to speak with you in private. She asks you
hold off your attack for one more day and will meet you midfield in three
hours time. She asks You let me live to return your answer to her.

Looking at this messanger, Shalrienne considers him carefully. Shalrienne
speaks quietly, but her words carry easily over the light fog benning to
roll in. 'Tell the Baroness she will have her meeting, but know this, if
she comes with any others I will level this keep to the ground and put her
head on a pike. Go now.
Without hesitation the man turns and runs for his
life, returning to the keep.




Writer: Mezlak

Date Mon Oct 27 16:16:29 2014




Writer: Keryann

Date Mon Oct 27 19:59:11 2014

To All Imm RP ( Zandreya )

Subject A Hard Day



Kerryann stood on the balcony above Althainia looking down at the people
below. Her day had been a truly hard one with All that had gone on and all
the skinning she had done. How she loved to keep busy and keep her mind
busy, it helped to keep her from thinking of bad memories.

She continued to look down at the people below, giggling a bit as the people
looked as small as ants. How she loved the peace of the balcony almost like
the peace in the harbor of New Thalos without the water. She smiled as she
thought about her friends in New Thalos. So many wonderful people.

Keryann decided to stop skinning for the rest of the day. She was very
tired and needed a well deserved break for today had been a hard day. She
took advantage of the peace and started to pray Holy Mother, I thank you for
the beauty of the world which surrounds me. The desert was beautiful but so
are your forests. I love to sit by the tree dedicated to you here and
worship you. I ask that you bless us as we continue our service to you. I
ask this in your holy name, Blessed Be


Keryann sat there and meditated for a while before deciding to leave the
balcony. She felt uplifted and loved as she walked out of the castle and
down to see the Bishop.





Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Oct 28 07:49:17 2014




Writer: Keryann

Date Tue Oct 28 16:07:48 2014

To All IMM RP ( Zandreya )

Subject A Message from the Holy Mother



Keryann went to the Great Tree in the garden to rest. She was exhausted
from All the running around she did for the High priest but she was very
happy getting to know the people of Althainia and really feeling that she
was starting to fit in.

She walked up to the tree in great silence as she felt the Holy Mother
always with her and she prayed a prayer of thanks for being happy and a
promise to share Her word. She was about to sit by the tree when a breeze
picked up, oh how she loved the feel of the breeze on her face. Then the
smell of maple filled the room and she took in the scent of the maple. The
breeze seemed to blow right through her, filling her with a sense of nature.
As quick as it arrived it seemed to go leaving a feeling of Zandreya's
presence with her. She was truly happy now. For today was a good day
for decisions.





Writer: Fardoc

Date Tue Oct 28 23:19:29 2014

To All Wargar Kyri Imm RP Nadrik

Subject The Forging of a Warhammer - Part I



The sounds of hammers cracking on anvils and the sizzle of cooling steel
filled the air as Fardoc, Thane of Wargar, walked into the Mountains forge.
Wargars master blacksmith, Nori Brighthammer, stood at the anvil, rivulets
of sweat pouring down his face and beads trickling down into his beard. He
wiped his forehead with a hand and nodded to Fardoc, acknowledging his
presence.

'Hail, Thane. How are ye? '

'Doin fine, Nori. Ah heard ye were workin on somethin special? ' Fardoc
said as he peers down at the cooling steel beginning to take shape.

Nori grinned and slammed the hammer back down on the metal. 'Indeed, sah!
This will be ah warhammer o master quality, ahn ah thought yed like tae
weigh in on wot tae do with et.
'

Fardoc chuckled and looked at the new warhammer in a new light, walking
around the anvil and inspecting it from every angle, nodding in appreciation
as he viewed a superbly crafted weapon, though it was not quite finished.

'Ets ah helluva piece, lad. Ahd nay venture tae tell ye wot tae do with et,
but ahd tell ye this, ah know quite ah few o our lads whod lop off their
beards for ah hammer like this
'

Nori grinned at the compliment, nodding in agreement. 'Aye, ye be right.
This bae ah hammer fit for ah Thane, ahm thinkin.
'

Fardoc looked up at Nori with slight surprise, 'Aye, ah spose so, but ah
would nay ask for such ah gift. Ye could get ah kings ransom sellin tha
thing.
'

Nori snorted as he hefted the nearly complete hammer and dunked it in a pail
of water, steam hissing as it submerged. 'Ah cin think o no one else tha
deserves et, sah. This be ah Thanes weapon, ahn et should be such. Ahd
like for ye tae have et when et be complete, ahn ye cin pass et along tae th
next Thane if ye ever decide tae retire. '

Fardoc inspected the warhammer with increased interest, glancing up at Nori.
'Ye honor mae, lad. Would ye keep mae informed o yer progress? '

Fardoc inspected the warhammer with increased interest, glancing up at Nori.
'Ye honor mae, lad. Would ye keep mae informed o yer progress? '

With a small smile and another glance at the marvelous weapon, Fardoc turned
to leave the forge and return to the Pantheon to wait for word from the
blacksmith.




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Wed Oct 29 13:22:32 2014

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

Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part One)


'Yarbourough. Accounts Payable. Wunt vacation time. Good work record.
Okies. Ooof approve. '

The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit picked up a nearby quill, and signed
his name in almost childlike letters, 'OOOF'. Placing the document in the
box to his right labelled 'Out', he then reached to the box on his left
labelled 'In', retrieving the next document.

''Wulworth. Production. Promotion to manager. Yuh, I know this guy. Him
smart. Okies. Mez approve. '' Once again, the Vice President of Humanoid
Resources signed his name, and the cycle continued.

Life was rather simple for the simple ogre these days. It had been nearly
three months since the opening of the Ixi-Mart Tower, and the passing of
Thimtax, it's architect and Vice President of Production and Manufacting.
The tower had performed exactly as its creator intended; offering the
corporation more than enough space and amenities to enable Ixi-Mart to
streamline its operations. The gridlock once spawned by redundancy and
limited space was now a thing of the past. It was almost boring. However,
on this morning, a commotion coming from the lobby had grabbed his
attention. He focus his gaze on the door to his office and listened.

'Please, sir! You have to make an appointment if you want to-'

'Nuts to that, lassae! '' *pound pound pound* ''Ey! Come out here! '

Ooof, thankful for the distraction, slowly rose to his feet and made his way
towards the door, quite perplexed as to what the problem was. It was but
another second before an even louder series of pounding against his door.

'Get yer arse out here, I say! Or ah'm comin' in there! '

'Okies, okies!! '' The Vice President bellowed in aggravation. ''Mez
comin'! Nut pound Ooof's door! Ooof pound -yuz-! '

Ooof threw the door wide open, revealing a visibly upset Hyaku'cho, arms
folded across her chest. Panning downward, his gaze met with that of a
scowling dwarf. He reeked of alcohol, and looked as if he was prepared for
a fight. The ogre considered the hill dwarf stoically.

'May I help yuz? '

The dwarf returned his now baffled gaze to Hyaku'cho. ''Who in the hell bae
this guy!? ''

'I'm sorry, Mister Ooof. '' The executive secretary exclaimed in
frustration. ''I tried to stop hi-'

''Aye, an a bonnae attempt she made of it too, but there bae no stoppin' ol'
Canny when 'e gets a bug up 'is arse! '', the drunken dwarf stated proudly.


Ooof's visage was one of half amusement, half bewilderment. He shook his
head quietly. ''Iz okies, Hyaker'chu. Yuz did fine. Ooof take care of
this. ''




Writer: Keryann

Date Thu Oct 30 09:09:36 2014




Writer: Shalrienne

Date Fri Oct 31 12:49:43 2014




Writer: Keryann

Date Sat Nov 1 09:05:16 2014




Writer: Rikam

Date Sat Nov 1 17:44:07 2014

To All Verminasia imm rp devion

Subject The Laughter of the Earth: Forest Law (i)


I am going to die out here. I am absolutely, definitely, and quite certainly
going to die out here. Ah gods.

By the Trickster's teeth, I am the stupidest person I know.

Too trusting. Too willing to believe. How could I be that trusting? How could
-I- be that trusting? Have I always been so bloody soft? Have I always been such
a bloody fool?

Suppose it doesn't matter anymore. I have lost the trail. Daylight is fading.
All of my supplies, my food, my shelter, everything, is gone. All I've got is
the clothes on my back, and though the coat I'm wrapped in is as warm as
any, it will not keep me through the night. The Icewall's cold is too deep for
that.

I've decided to make notes of the errors that brought me here, in an effort
to keep focused on something, anything, besides my imminent end. I shall
write until my fingers freeze and fail to move further. If anyone should find
this journal, take it to Verminasia. Tell them their Admiral has died a fool's
death in the middle of nowhere, and for no reason. Bloody Kensey will be
pleased, no doubt.

By the rites of Forest Law, I expect I will be dead by morning.




Writer: Rikam

Date Sat Nov 1 17:46:07 2014

To All Verminasia imm rp devion

Subject The Laughter of the Earth: Forest Law (ii)


I like cities. People in cities are easy. People in cities believe in law,
and order, and a whole creative range of social rules and customs, and very
very few of them, if any, are truly enforceable. Even with those laws that
do have a prescribed punishment, if one knows is way around them well
enough, he could get away with just about anything. Even at their worst,
they provide a clever framework to move around in.

Law, order, honor, even bloody Nadrik. As far as I'm concerned, they're
some of the Deceiver's best gifts to us. Rules. Bloody love 'em.

But things are different out here in the forest. The only laws out here are
what you can see, what you can hear and feel and smell. The punishment
for failing to properly observe them is, without pity or mercy or exception,
death.

I've known people, rangers, who were masters at subverting these sorts of
laws. They could vanish into the background at will. They could track and
follow and hunt.. They could prey on the senses of their game and
perusers both. Their lives are made by escaping the judgement of Forest
Law. Hell. Escape it? They turn it right to their bloody advantage.

I'm out of my element here, and I'm bloody paying for it. That wolf. She
knew it. Riikka Hietala, you wicked bloody harpy. I belong to the forest
now, you said. Wouldn't even do me the courtesy of a clean death.




Writer: Rikam

Date Sat Nov 1 18:10:31 2014

To All Verminasia imm rp devion

Subject The Laughter of the Earth: Forest Law (iii)


Riikka Hietala, the merchant of Icewall. One of them norse women. According
to Oldbeard, she'd been making the wagon run from the Blood Sea to
Wayfarer's Inn for some ten years or more. Even before that, she'd been the
queen peddler of whatever passed for Icewall's black market. Anything that
avoided official taxation through the kingdoms, everything from provisions to
weapons to exotic medicines, went through the hands of Riikka the Wolf.

I suppose I thought I was sticking it to Oldbeard, subverting his bad omen
by hiring his merchant as a guide. I suppose I thought it would be easy,
making my way safely to the Wayfarer's Inn, where I could play out my my
holiday with nary a pilgrimage nor danger to be seen. I suppose I thought I
was clever in thinking the Wolf would prefer quick coin over the loyalty of
repeat business with Oldbeard.

"You did well gambling with the smuggler and his crew, but there must be
richer games in your home kingdom. Richer, and less out of your way,"
she said that night. We had stopped to pitch a camp just off the trail. Better to
sleep now and reach the Inn in the morning, she'd said. The forest is less
hospitable in the dark.

"Oh, plenty of games, yeah," I said, "but they've All gotten tired of me
clearin' 'em out, haven't they? Had to move on to fresh ground and All
that." I sipped from a horn of mead she'd offered me. It warmed me
nearly as well as the camp's fire.

"Hmmm. I think not. Icewall is a long way to travel and the gamblers in
Nordmaar favor dice over cards. No, I think you have come here for a different
purpose." Her voice was smooth and rich, the aural equivalent molasses.
Or tree sap. She had a serious and orderly face. Stern. Very viking.

I shrugged and shipped away at my mead, already looking forward to the
night's rest. "I just like to travel is all. The coin'll go where it will.
It's the bits between that I'm looking for, right?"

"Ah, so an adventurer then," she said with a chuckle. "I expected so. You
could have made passage aboard the Sea Mage and traveled between
official ports. You could probably have found more fruitful marks amongst
those merchants. Safer ones too." Her smile, I began to notice, was a
strange one. It was cool and soft smile, without any sense of guile to
it...but without any kindness either.

As the edges of my vision began to blur, I decided that this horn of mead
would be enough for tonight, thank you. I decided that I was plenty tired
from the day's journey, and that I ought to turn in for some much
anticipated sleep. I tried to say these things, but the words would not
come.

"I think you prefer the small paths," she continued. Her icy blue eyes
looked, for lack of any better term, wolfish. Eager. Hungry. "I think you are
one of those troubled kinds of men, yes? The kind who cannot be
bothered with too much comfort. The kind who dreams too much.
Possessed by too many dream spirits maybe?"

Something told me that I should be confused or put off by what she was
saying. Some voice in the back of my head was screaming danger. At that
moment, though, I really couldn't be bothered to worry. Instead, All I did
was mumble, "Oneiroi, yeah. Dream sprrts..."

Riikka gave another chuckle, and I swear I saw teeth in that grin. Big,
mean wolfish teeth. She stood up then and very carefully began
smothering the fire with dirt. She worked slowly as she packed up camp,
taking her time in settling my belongings in along with hers. I
watched, unable to move, unable to speak, as she covered up her wagon
and got behind the reins, leaving nothing behind except me.

The last thing I remember before it All went black was that bloody grin of
hers. It was bigger, meaner, and more genuinely satisfied than anything I'd
ever seen. "Dream well, sweet dreamer," she said. "You belong to the
forest now. May it take you gracefully before you wake."

And that was it.




Writer: Rikam

Date Sat Nov 1 18:15:12 2014

To All Verminasia imm rp devion

Subject The Laughter of the Earth: Forest Law (iv)


I did have a dream that night.

It's that same dream I've had a million nights now. Always the same
setting, always the same circumstance. Though...now that I look back on
it, there was something different about this one. It's funny, these details
that slip away from the mind until you decide to go back and remember
them.

My eyes opened and the world had changed. The night and the forest and
the cold were All gone. In their place was a flat plane that stretched on
forever. I could see horizon in every direction, and the sky took up two
thirds of everything. The air was hot and dry. There was grass
everywhere. It was as dry as the air, All dry and crinkly.

I was right in the middle of it. I knew it was the middle. There were roads
that met at the middle. A crossroads. And there was a gallows in the
middle of the crossroads. And there was me hanging from the gallows.

I must have been there for ages, rotting in the hot sun. My face was a
pulpy mess, grinning like a half-rotten jack-o-lantern. One of my eyes was
missing, likely pecked out by a crow. I looked even uglier than bloody
Oldbeard. I swayed lightly at the end of my rope. There was no breeze.

I hung there for years, ages even, and every now and then a traveler
would stop and ask me for directions. Most of them just passed by, either
not seeing me or choosing to ignore me, but one in a hundred of them
would stop.

"It's that way," I croaked out through a strangled throat. I pointed in the
direction the traveler wanted to go, and I always told the truth. Always.
The traveler would nod and thank me and move on, confident that he now
knew where he was going.

And then I would do something.

I would change the roads. The traveler wouldn't have noticed it as he
journeyed on, but his path was changed. When before he was going east,
now he was going west. Instead of his preferred northern path, he would
now be going south. Or upwards, or downwards, or to one of the moons
even, or to one of the hells.

And I would laugh and sway in the quiet air.

That is how the dream usually went. It was different this time.

The traveler was some kind of an imp. Or maybe it was a goblin. Yes, it
was more like a goblin. An ugly little bat-faced thing with a smashed in
nose and long, gnarled, bat-like ears. It stopped and looked at me and I
prepared to give it directions. Then it did something strange. It laughed. It
laughed and it laughed and it laughed it great cackling whoops. It doubled
over, gasping for breath through its laughter before finally falling over into
the dusty road where it rolled about and laughed some more. I stared
back at it. I tried to ask what it wanted, but my throat was too cracked and
dry. All I could do was wheeze. The sound of my wheezing egged it on. Its
eyes bulged and it screamed out its laughter twice as loudly as before.

Never stopping for a breath, that little wretch of a goblin just rolled about in
the dirt, holding itself and laughing. Every time it tried to stop to breath, All
it could do was look at me and then erupt into a whole new fit. This carried
on for...I'm not sure how long. Eventually the laughter became pained and
the goblin's gasps for air became more desperate. It was choking itself,
but it still wouldn't stop. It just laughed and laughed until its breath
abandoned it entirely. It laughed itself right to death.

I woke to the pale gray dawn. And the snow. And the cold.
So cold.
The way back is covered. No track or trail to be seen.

My fingers...I don't think I can hold the pen any longer.




Writer: Cieran

Date Sun Nov 2 18:21:42 2014




Writer: Djehuty

Date Sun Nov 2 23:18:15 2014




Writer: Keryann

Date Mon Nov 3 09:45:10 2014




Writer: Keryann

Date Tue Nov 4 12:35:02 2014




Writer: Lunez

Date Tue Nov 4 19:36:54 2014

To All New_Thalos New_Serpantol Bak'he God RP KWARS IMM Tashio Scorn

Subject Chronicles of New Serpantol: The March On Bak'he



One thousand sons and daughters donned in the faceless masks of the Thalosian
Imperial Army marched southward along the old trade as the two figures watched
from high overhead. The trail of soldiers marched in single file line like ants
on their way to parts unknown within the depths of the desert.

The figure on the right, a large Ogrish man clad in the steel skins of a slayn
firstborn, spoke aloud to the smaller human at his side in a deep deliberate
voice, "My Sultan, your troops are under way to retake the Sand City of Bak'he
as you commanded. The City will be yours by tomorrows setting sun.
"

The Sultan continued to watch the detachment of soldiers depart for Bak'he as he
nods approvingly to the Crownguard to his left. "Excellent," Lunez added with
a smile of pleasure escaping from the corners of his mouth.

"And what of the Sandlord when I arrive?" asked Rolus obediently.

The look of pleasure quickly evaporated from the Sultan's face and in its place,
only cold resolve remained. "For her crimes against her people, she will submit,
or she will take to the blade. No more, no less.
"

Rolus nodded once before turning to bow his massive Ogrish head before his Sultan
then departing without another word. Just as the Crownguard exited the palace
balcony, another figure appeared from the well lit doorway. He was a lithe figure,
yet toned from decades of training in both body and mind. He pulled back his hood
to reveal sharp azure eyes and pointed ears adorn with several golden hoops and
platinum studs along each ears length. He was clearly of Elven decent.

"My Sultan, the engineers are ready to begin rebuilding the old trade road, once
the soldiers clear from the area. As you have commanded, the road shall once
again span the reaches of the Ivory Wastes, All the way to Bak'he and beyond.

Lunez turned to his most trusted advisor, nodding approvingly with a clear look of
pleasure on his face. "The realms of the Old Empire shall be reunited once more,
A'kariel. And your tireless work will not go un-noticed.
"

A'kariel grinned proudly, as he often did while basking within the praise that he
so often agreed that he deserved before pointing to the west with an even larger
grin on his face. "And then there is that, my Sultan."

Both men glanced to the western front to see yet another small detachment of one
thousand sons and daughters of Thalosia marching westward, both men grining at the
beautiful sight.





Writer: Lunez

Date Tue Nov 4 20:09:17 2014

To All New_Thalos New_Serpantol Old_Thalos God RP KWARS IMM Tashio Scorn

Subject Chronicles of New Serpantol: The March On Old Thalos



Dust rose from the ground like an ocean of earth behind them as the seemingly
endless line of soldiers, wagons, horses, and other beasts of burden marched
westward towards the abandoned Ruins of Old Thalos.

Riding atop a sterling white stallion, Teucer surrounded himself by a company of his
most trusted soldiers. Men and woman, proven under the toil of sweat and steel in
the fields of battle against both man, beast, and what horrors lie within the
depths of Purgatory itself. When the Sultan says, 'Restore my Thalos', the
Warmaster does not disappoint.

His orders ran through his mind like a well oiled machine. A memory finely tuned
and a mind acutely disciplined for the arts and protocol of war.

'Take back and restore my Thalos.'

'One hundred gold for each lamia head to your company.

'And when she is cleansed, rebuild my beloved Thalos to her former glory.'

Teucer relished in the thought of meeting the approval of his Sultan, for if there
was an important task given to him before now, it paled in comparison with the
task of bringing Order to the ruined streets of Old Thalos, and returning them to
the New Empire.

More than enough soldiers surround him in order to secure a beast-infested ruin,
but there was much more to it than that, he thought to himself. There was
something else there that warranted protecting. It laid within the earth, the air,
the stone--- it laid everywhere. It was the history lost with the Fall of the Old
Empire, and it was this history that his Sultan so eagerly desired its return.

"What secrets do you hold," asked Teucer to himself and he and his one
thousand soldiers rode onward to Thalos, followed by hundreds of wagons filled
with supplies, skilled laborers, and every resource imaginable to rebuild the
fabled City of Thalos.





Writer: Keryann

Date Wed Nov 5 09:58:04 2014




Writer: Asyrlin

Date Wed Nov 5 22:06:06 2014




Writer: Asyrlin

Date Wed Nov 5 22:21:14 2014




Writer: Zedryk

Date Thu Nov 6 11:27:24 2014

To All Sebatis Imm RP

Subject A rude awakening.



Dreams Wonderful Dreams were dancing through Zedryk's unconscious mind as
he slept off his latest series of injuries in one of the chapters of the
priest's guild.

He had completed his training at last, and the conclave and the dwarves of
the mountain were no longer at war. He saw himself rising up through the
ranks of Sebatis' priesthood one by one, All the while gaining access to
spells that were supposed to be nothing more than rumor. He had made
friends with an old and very powerful dragon who allowed him to take up
residence in its lair and offered him his pick of the many shedded skins
that it had no use for. He took several of these to a crafter and had them
turned into a spectacular suit of armor. Sebatis was so pleased with him
that he through a Morningstar of legendary power down before his feet from
the heights of the red moon and demanded that he proclaim himself champion
of the neutral magics.

Fast forward many years

He was laying face down in a large hall before a marble fireplace getting a
back massage by the girl he had secretly loved since childhood. Now that he
had achieved his goals he would enjoy his retirement, and the immaculate
weapon and armor were hanging over the fireplace, reduced to nothing more
than trophies.

"Mmm. Tha's good lasse. Get All them kinks oot." With a sigh he let out a
low grunt of satisfaction. "Mhm. Tha champ gotta bae ready fer any
challenges. No Ah'm tha best lad. Not ye! Take tha! And this! And tha!
Har har har. Hey ease up lasse. Easy. Wha's tha yer using mah ol
Bonebreaker?"

OUCH!!!

The boot landed square in the center of his back and the pressure kept him
pinned to the floor unable to move an inch. As he looked up he cringed with
surprise. "Oy thar. Wha's tha meaning o" The leader of the guild swung
back his other foot and landed a swift kick to Zedryk's jaw. "Get up you
silly fool. I'm tired of listening to your nonsensical murmurings and so
are the rest of the noviciates. Does this look like an inn to you? Pray or
get out now." The guild leader pivoted on the foot that held Zedryk down
and strode off to a dark corner of the room where he began instructing some
newly appointed priests on the basics of prayer and contacting their
respective gods.

"Ah'm a member o this guild and Ah's needin a quick rest after getting my
arse handed tah mae by a Shadowknight. Cut mae a break." The leader
glanced back with a sneer on his face. I don't care. You decided to travel
the lands alone. Join a clan and be done with it. Let them listen to your
drunken fantasies instead." "Ah'm no drunk ye simpleton. Tha was just a
sip tah dull tha throbbing in mah skull." "Your armor is a joke, your
weapons are laughable, and you haven't shaped a single stone to make the
simplest of altars to your lord. Get out and don't come back until you've
made progress in one of those 3 areas."

Zedryk was about to make a retort when the leader raised his hand and a wave
of power swept over him. There was a loud whistling in his ears and he felt
like he was being turned inside out. The next thing he knew he was standing
at his bindstone back on Althainia. "Why tha no good" The first of several
brutal strikes came a split second later. Hoping to catch the attention of
any nearby allies he yelled "Help Ah'm being attacked by Nazarin" at the top
of his lungs and began to run for his life. And so, the chase throughout
the streets of Althainia ensued.




Writer: Keryann

Date Thu Nov 6 19:49:07 2014




Writer: Rikam

Date Fri Nov 7 13:11:13 2014

To All Verminasia imm rp devion

Subject The Laughter of the Earth: Why does it burn? (i)


A note to All my friends and enemies alike:

Remember this well.

At the end of time when All the world finally burns to a cinder, when the
wreckage of this aging civilization collapses around those who desperately
hold it up, when the sky is charred black and there is nothing left to
redeem the scorched and ruined earth, when All life and hope has failed
and those few left who walk the land have nothing left but their despair
and their gasping, ruined breath, look then to who's name is writ upon the
ashes.

Rikam Oneiroi was here.
Rikam Oneiroi survives.




Writer: Rikam

Date Fri Nov 7 13:13:22 2014

To All Verminasia imm rp devion

Subject The Laughter of the Earth: Why does it burn? (ii)


That night was cold. Colder than should be possible. Cold so severe, so
unavoidable and so utterly inescapable that it could only manifest as a
persistent, All encompassing sensation of pain. I wore that cold like dirt
blanketing a grave. It became a part of me. So sure that I could never
possibly be warm again, it seemed the most sensible thing in the world to
curl up beneath a tree and never move again.

My mind was blank. All I knew was icy pain and soon it wasn't even
that. I lost the name for it. Just a sensation, that's all. Was it good or bad?
I wasn't sure. Just a sensation that had to do with the ice and the wind and
the north. Beyond words, or image, or thought, or despair, All I had was
this sensation of cold. I've never known myself so well.

Why does it burn, Lullaby?

A voice called through the silence. A woman's voice. Who's was it?
Someone I knew? Someone I loved? It sounded so familiar, but I couldn't
make sense of the words. She sounded insistent. She sounded
concerned.

Lullaby. Why does it burn?

Why does it burn? Why does it burn? I couldn't remember. I forced my
eyes open and heard the frost crack and break off from my eyelids. I
looked up at the tree I lay under. A tall, mighty pine. Pine, I thought. Soft
wood. Pleasant smell.

The pine loomed over me, staring down like some great ancient thing.
Older and more fearsome than giants, or the dragons, or the dead. Older
than time. "Why does it burn?" I asked it. I was surprised at the frailty of
my voice. It was as if the wind had carried it off to some unknown sea,
where whispers float like spirits over the mist, forgotten and born fading.

"Why does it burn?" I asked again, not quite understanding where this
question was coming from. I pressed my hand into the bark of the tree. It
was rough and unwelcoming. I expected my fingers to splinter off right
there. "Why does it burn?"

The tree remained silent, but wait, I felt something. It wasn't warmth, no.
The tree had no warmth to offer. But what then? Life? Yes. There was life
in that tree. A strong life. An old life. A life rooted deep in the earth and
wrapped in thick bark. A life unmoving. A life that wanted out.

Because it wants to burn, said the tree. It spoke in a way that things
without mouths might speak. I felt the words in my hand. I felt them rattle
and break the ice in my veins. I felt them settle and sink in to my heart
which, I was surprised to find, was still beating.

Because it can, I whispered back. There was warmth in my breath
and a cloud of condensation rolled from my mouth into the air. The frost on
my brow had changed into beads of water. The words in my heart shifted
and glowed and crackled softly. I remembered the image of someone, a
woman, whispering softly, lovingly, to a pile of gently smoldering tinders. I
could smell the smoke.

Because it is lovely. The words seemed materialize in the air between
the tree and myself and, in that impossibly small space between my hand
and the bark, they caught fire.

Flames crept up the bark of the tree, melting the frost that clung to it. The
branches shook and groaned. A plume of smoke billowed out from the top,
as if escaping a chimney. I fell back from the tree in time to gasp a breath
and stagger back as quickly as I was able just before, All at once, every
single pine needle clinging to a branch of that great, ancient thing,
suddenly ignited into a brilliant red flame.

The tree burned. All of it. By dawn there was nothing left but a great pile of
gray ash on the scorched earth, and I stayed warm and alive through the
night. The flames did not spread beyond the pine's branches.




Writer: Keryann

Date Sat Nov 8 12:31:09 2014




Writer: Amyth'lynn

Date Sat Nov 8 13:47:27 2014




Writer: Aliera

Date Sat Nov 8 17:46:54 2014




Writer: Amyth'lynn
Date Sat Nov 8 18:10:28 2014




Writer: Gaudin
Date Sun Nov 9 01:58:34 2014




Writer: Amyth'lynn
Date Sun Nov 9 11:56:21 2014




Writer: Duf
Date Sun Nov 9 18:59:53 2014

To All Althainia Rivaelon Dekum ( Raije Imm Rp )

Subject (A Night on the Town)


The early afternoon air was crisp and cold. Looking about Duf could see
the dark moon rising above the horizon. Standing outside the Blue Gryphon
he could see shopkeepers closing up shop. Some were tossing out trash,
others were closing the shudders prepairing for winter.

A beggar walked by up to him, pan-handling for copper and silver. Duf had
always hated beggars. The way in which they chose to ask rather than do
bothered him a great deal. With a shrug he tossed a copper in the beggar's
hat. The beggar beamed a smile as the copper landed quietly in his empty
hat. Thanking Duf profusely he bowed, showing the tattered robes on his
back.

Git a job ye silly bastard.. ', grumbled Duf, reaching into his pocket for
a flask. Upending the flask Duf sighed as fumes greeted his lips. He
turned from the muttering beggar and quickly made his way into loud and
boisterous tavern.

Duf sent the heavy oaken door flying open, knocking a stray waiter to the
ground. He was greeted by nobility. All staring at him, whispering amonst
themselves. He could tell they didn't approve of him but he didn't care.
All wearing the finest silks and weapons, and not a one of them knew how to
use them.

Ignoring the now-hushed party he was obviously not invited to Duf made his
way past the muttering waiter towards the back room.

Pushing a tattered curtain aside he stepped into a much darker and louder
section of the Blue Gryphon. Instead of lanterns and magic, only candles
lit this section of the tavern. There were several tables of military men
and guards sticking closely to their own business. Duf made his w ay past
these men, nodding his head in acknowledgement as he snagged a stray drink
from one of their tables. Sitting at the furthest table in the darkest
corner of the room were Duf's closest friends in All of Althainia.




Writer: Mercerion

Date Mon Nov 10 00:54:31 2014

To All Nadrik Immortal

Subject White Reflection



Mercerion sat quietly within the temple to Nadrik, meditating silently.
His mind recounting the events that had unfolded over the week. He had seen
many cases where the teachings of the Light had not shown through those who
should be its most fervant defenders.

He recounted on how pride had come between kin, escalating from pride to
anger, and how easilly pride overcame the humble nature that was called upon
those of Nadrik's fold. Humility. On the forefront of each member of
Nadrik's fold, one of His core tenets. Tossed aside in comparing one's
lifestyle to another. Tossed aside because one is treated different than
the other. Tossed aside, because one does not agree with the command of his
superior.

Disunity. It was evident, coursing through every individual involved,
directly or indirectly. Squabbles over words and petty comparisons. This
was how fractured the Light had become? That even its champions resort to
quarreling amongst themselves over matters of station?

Justification. The ends justify the means. Had it really come to this?
Had the war strayed so far, that to combat the darkness, we have turned to
employing this tactic? He had never really agreed with the logic. It
didn't fit with Nadrik's teachings. Your actions, Means and Ends, must be
just, or your Honor is breeched.

Silence. Had it fallen so completely, that no speaker of any church of
Light, would come to call to question these failings? Has the Light given
up the teachings it stands for, in favor of finding a way to win this war in
hollow victory? This was no war that could be won by compromising
principle. All facets of the Light, must stand together, in harmony, if
they were to wash away the darkness.

Honor. It must be restored within the Light. As we stray from it, we
weaken Him, in His struggle upon the Dark Moon. Mercerion knew that in his
heart, Honor stood above All else. He knew then, as he awakened from his
meditation, what must happen. = He rose, praying his thanks to the Lord for
guidance, and exited the temple, picking up his shield as he went.




Writer: Keryann

Date Mon Nov 10 10:09:03 2014

To All Imm RP ( Zandreya )

Subject Intolerance (Part 1)



Keryann awoke very happy starting a new day. She looked out the window
and watched the sunrise, smiling happily as the sun rises. She left the
palace with a skip in her step as she entered thone room. She walked in
silently as the room was full.

She walked around the people gathered and sat in her usual spot on the
platform of the throne. She watched as the exchange went from civil to
chaotic her tolerance of the situation fading, for it was not the first time
she had seen such disrespect from this particular family.

She watched silently as the situation went from bad to worse. Her integrity
coming into the situation, now she was a bit angry but held her silence.
Finally, the Emperor grew tired of their ranting and they were banished from
the kingdom. They All looked at each other not expecting it to happen.

Keryann breathed a sigh of relief as the kingdom grew silent. She started
to pray Holy Mother, although I agree on this change, I also feel sorry for
the family. May they find peace wherever they go and feel your blessings
upon them. I ask this in your Holy Name, Blessed Be. She looked up from
her prayer thinking especially of the child and how they had poisoned her
mind. She was truly sorry to see her go.





Writer: Keryann

Date Mon Nov 10 10:34:52 2014

To All Imm RP ( Zandreya )

Subject Intolerance (Part 2 end of a saga)



Keryann awoke the next day a bit uncomfortable, expecting something to
happen to ruin her day. She watched the sunrise through the window but
could not admire its beauty.

She walked back to the throne room as usual to find it empty and sat down on
the platform as usual. She started paging through All her parchments and
found one that pushed her tolerance beyond her limits. She read the letter
shaking with frustration as she sent a well worded reply. She was done with
the disrespect to the crown, tired of them questioning his integrity, of his
honor, and especially the good decision he has made for the kingdom. She
finally called as she sent the letter on the the receiver expecting to hear
from her and of course, soon after she did.

The person was not happy. Which Keryann expected. She lashed out at
Keryann as no one had ever done, Keryann was not phased. Keryann pointed
out a few flaws with her ranting which she then accused her of being a pet
to the Royals and not worthy of her title.

Keryann listened to All she had to say and then replied, Do you not have any
respect for your family? You above All should know of discretion and
protocol. To which she went silent and had nothing more to say.

Keryann knelt down to pray "Holy Mother, again I come to you to ask of you
to allow the family to find peace. They are confused and angry and cannot
see past it. I only pray that one day they will find tranquility in their
hearts. I ask this in your Holy Name, Blessed Be."
She closes her prayer
and meditates a while for her own peace of mind





Writer: Skylla
Date Tue Nov 11 21:57:43 2014

To All (Imm RP)

Subject Disaster by the River



The child played near the river, collecting little flowers and chasing
hopping frogs, her laughter carrying back to her mother, who sat skinning a
doe and separating the meat. The hunt had been a good one, the meat priced
and the experience a worthy example to the felar cub.

The child had hidden quietly in the tall grasses, watching as her mother
stalked towards the feeding doe, her movements elegant and precise. She
watched in silence as the doe raised her head and flicked her ears, and
watched as her mother wasted no time before pouncing on the deer, bringing
her sharp claws to her neck and a knife to her side. Both felar huntress
and doe fell to the grass, a moment of struggle, a ruffling of the grass,
then silence.

The child waited for her mother's signal to approach, upon hearing it she
crawls quietly through the tall grasses to reach the huntress and her prey.
The Felar huntress spoke to the young cub, making sure she understood the
hunting lesson; she then sets the felar cub to practice on the frogs and
insects that inhabited this side of the river.

Returning to her skinning, the huntress keeps an ear on her cub and the
other alert to All sounds around them. The child pounces closer and closer
to the little green frog, then suddenly an unexpected frog jumps at the
girl, she lets out a soft gasp and stumbles backwards, losing her footing
and falling into the river with a loud splash. Her arms flail as she tries
to reach the surface, the river carrying her in its wild current.

The huntress dives in only seconds after the cub, leaving behind skinned doe
and knife. She swims with the current, trying to reach the cub as she's
pulled under the current, the huntress losing sight of her for a brief
moment before the child's head bobs out of the water, little arms trying to
grab onto anything. With mighty strokes, the huntress reaches the cub and
pulls the child to her with one arm, turning to swim to the shore, going
down under the current herself, then rises again, coughing and chocking.
The cub clings to her mother, coughing and crying.

Reaching at a hanging root, the huntress holds on long enough to toss the
child out of the water to the ground, then the root breaks and she is gone.
The child lays unconscious for hours, barely stirring, barely breathing as
day turns to night.




Writer: Asyrlin
Date Tue Nov 11 22:09:03 2014




Writer: Skylla
Date Tue Nov 11 22:10:51 2014

To All (IMM RP)

Subject Survival in the Forest



The cub stirs and slowly opens her eyes, shivering viciously as she sits
and looks about with wide eyes, finding herself alone and lost. She calls
out to her mother, again and again, and then grows quiet at the sound of a
howl. The cub huddles by herself, hugging her shivering figure and tries to
hide in the grass. Then the sound of wings flapping draw her attention to
the sky, where a dark owl is seen, it flies over her head, hooting softly,
then returns and flies over her head again. The cub stands and gazes back
at the river, tears falling down her furry cheeks, she turns and follows
after the owl, letting it guide her away.

The child wanders alone, stopping to pick berries and eat them as hunger
came, the sounds of animals reach her ears and fear makes her tremble. The
owl hoots up above, landing on a branch, watching the cub with bright yellow
eyes, before it flies away. Quickly the child scampers up the tree, using
claws to grasp the bark, climbing to the second branch, where she settles
against the trunk and cries herself to sleep.

The sound of insects settles down as morning comes, the first rays of the
sun filtering through the foliage of the tree where the felar cub sleeps.
One ray shines upon her left cheek and she stirs, and then wakes up with a
soft startled cry, calling for her mother. She sways on the tree and
quickly grabs onto the trunk to steady herself and prevent a fall. The cub
looks about for the owl, finding no sign of it; she slowly begins to climb
down from the tree. A soft growl comes from her belly and she goes in
search of berries, walking deeper into the forest and farther away from the
river. The felar cub treads on, wandering the forest without true direction
till a bright blue butterfly flitters before her, drawing the child's
attention. The cub watches the butterfly, hearing a soft voice calling her
to follow; she stops a moment and softly calls to her mother, then runs
after the butterfly.

Days turn to night and night into day as time continues to flow by smoothly,
the cub remains within the forest, often in the company of bright blue
butterfly or the dark owl with the bright yellow eyes. Often sleeping in
the tree branches, eating berries and any little creature she is able to
catch. Slowly she makes her way out of the forest, following the butterfly.
Her memories left behind, blocked from her mind, forgotten in a fog of
confusion too strong to dissipate.




Writer: Asyrlin
Date Tue Nov 11 22:17:47 2014




Writer: Skylla
Date Tue Nov 11 22:24:28 2014

To All (IMM RP)

Subject A New Home, A New Life



The child slept on the sturdy tree branches, the owl resting near her
head, keeping watch. Every morning she would wake and climb down, gather
what fruits where nearby for her breakfast and would continue her trek
through the forest. The butterfly with the bright blue wings winks in and
out of existence as a guiding beacon, following some invisible trail around
the outskirts of the forest.

Time seemed to fly by without any real measure, the lost cub guided by owl
and butterfly was able to avoid many dangers that could have rendered her
hurt or even dead. Soon, in the distance not too far away, large stone
walls rose high, while the sounds of city life reached the felar's pricked
ears. Fear rooted her feet to the ground; the butterfly fluttered by her
head in slow circles, and then fluttered away towards the entrance, a
guiding beacon.

Slowly her feet moved, dragging over the dirt before taking a full step.
She enters the kingdom's gate with the bustle of people going about their
daily business. The cub moved quickly to blend in with the crowd, drawn to
the smell of freshly bake bread, she turns towards the bakery. Her vision
suddenly blocked by the bright blue wings of the butterfly, a clear sign to
turn away. Looking longingly at the bakery, the child turns and continues
to follow the butterfly that only she is able to see.

The child continues on her way down the street, coming into view of the
eastern gates before the butterfly disappears around a corner. The cub
quickens her steps as she turns the corner then catches to the butterfly as
it turns again on another corner. In the distance a tall young man and a
large wemic can be seen, confusion and worry make her stop and shake her
head. The butterfly flutters back, a soft wing brushing over the cub's
right ear before it flitters towards the wemic's head.

The cub comes closer, taking each step slowly; ready to bolt if things don't
turn well, the butterfly glows once, then blinks out. The cub stops to look
at the tall young man, then over at the wemic with the snowflake on his left
hindquarter. He looks down at her with warm, compassionate eyes and a
friendly smile, and a feeling of home and rightness fills the cub as a new
page turns in her life.




Writer: Cieran
Date Wed Nov 12 13:58:02 2014




Writer: Coriander
Date Wed Nov 12 16:01:48 2014

To All IMM RP

Subject Returning Home



Coriander walked the forests of the continents thinking about her
retirement and how it had been so premature. She boarded the ship from
Dojia to the Arkane continent getting closer to home. Although she had
enjoyed the forests around Dojia and Shokono, nothing was ever closer to her
as the vallenwoods. She watched as the docks got closer and closer. She
smiled as she knew she was much more closer to getting back to the home she
always knew. The shipped docked and she disembarked from the ship. As she
waited for the next one to arrive, a half elf and his son point at her and
snicker. She looked at them and turned away not paying attention to the
half-breeds.

She was just about to board the next ship as she felt something hit her
back. The child had thrown a stone at her. Coriander peered at both of
them, a flash of light brightened in her eyes. She turned to walk away for
he was not worth her time or energy. No sooner had she turned around, the
man ran at her an jumped her from behind. She had felt him coming so she
was prepared for him. She turned around quickly, just moments before he
struck, hummed a tune, and disoriented him quickly. She then grabbed him by
the neck, slammed him to the floor, and pinned him to the ground.

She peered at him at him a bit perturbed "Is this what you wished? To be
made a fool of by a trueblood in front of your child? What have you taught
your son and what do you think he thinks of you now?"
She let him go with
a sneer as she finally turned and boarded the ship. By the time she arrived
at the Althainian dock she was angry at what the half-breed had forced her
to do. She continued her walk through New Thalos, stopping to visit Elvira
on the way, then she stopped at the Burning Sands for a fruitbowl. She then
continued on her way to Althainia. Coriander smiled as she moved closer to
getting to the vallenwoods, she was growing tired, but no one could tell by
the spring in her step.

Coriander had reached Althaina and she smiled widely, she was so close she
could almost smell the vallenwood trees. She made up the steep foothills
and Zandreyas temple finally reaching the south gate. She smiled proudly as
she entered the gates. Many guards approached her at the gates and bowed
deeply to her at the gates as she looked at them "Save that for Royalty."
Sheath smiled as she waved at them and continued on to get some rest. Much
had change since her departure and she grew tired of the stagnant life.

She started to read the many parchments that collected since her departure
as she thought of her next step. She had decided, she would return to
active duty in the Sha'falas, happy with her decision, she continued on with
her reading. As she had just finished reading, she heard the speaker
stirring in the circle so she asked for a few moments of his time. They
discussed how it would be of benefit to the kingdom that she return to
active duty in the Sha'falas and she agreed to take on the responsibility.


With a refreshed spirit and a new outlook on life she was on her way to a
new start in her blessed vallenwoods.





Writer: Reyga

Date Thu Nov 13 01:05:45 2014

To All Justice Kantilles Nazca Rp Admin Imm

Subject Revenge Never Dies



The air was calm, and the shadow of a figure was painted across the filthy
caravan road between the territories of Althainia and Thalosia. As if from
a steam mirage, a pixie dressed in white and blue leisure clothes came in-
to sight.

His hair was slicked back and a savage, bloody red. His face looked furious,
impetulent, persistent, but with a pinch of mischief and a permanent scowl
adorning his distinuished features. He was glaring up at a white obelisk, an
architectural ode to Kantilles and a third of the triumvirate of the Conclave,
and merchants who walked by him whispered and gossiped to themselves about the
oddly furious pixie shooting daggers with his fiery eyes at the White Tower.

He sat there until the sun set. And against the backdrop of a sunset stained
with the colors of rust and blood, as though the clouds were cowering away from
his tiny form, he stood up on the stone and glared even harder at the tower.

His fists clenched and trembled as he said, "Soon. Soon you will know the mean-
ing of the word 'revenge'.
" His words dripped like acid from his lips, then he
departed into the city.




Writer: Cieran
Date Thu Nov 13 08:03:29 2014




Writer: Coriander
Date Fri Nov 14 07:03:16 2014




Writer: Zedryk
Date Fri Nov 14 08:15:24 2014

To All Wargar Shalonesti Nazerin Conclave Slayers Sebatis Imm RP

Subject Decisions made in haste.



There were no allies around to hear Zedryk's cry for help, and by the
time anybody could respond to a more far reaching plea Nazerin would be
finished with him. "This nae bae mah day." His use of this bind stone for
convenience sake was now at an end. He had to make some decisions and he
had to make them fast, so he fled.

Althainia was just to his north, but the guards there, who would provide
protection against the armies of Shadow and Bloodlust, would do nothing for
him in this case. "Ah've ner don a thing tah ye lad" he yelled, but it was
no good. The elf danced around him with great speed and it was All Zedryk
could do to keep him in his sights. There was no reasoning with the long
time enemy of his kin. He failed several attempts to gate away, and was not
able to disengage from combat with the Bladesinger. He could sense at least
one Eldritch coming now, and that was more than enough to scare the wits out
of him. Just then, with a well placed kick to the dirt at his feet, Nazerin
sent a shower of dust particles straight into Zedryk's eyes. "AARRGGHH!!"
Things began to move in slow motion for Zedryk now. The blood was pounding
in his ears, and he felt the divine presence of his patron fade from his
awareness. "Why Sebatis? Why??? This nae bae tha time tah turn mae away."
Or maybe it was. Zedryk had become very familiar with the layout of
Althainia. Maybe Sebatis wanted to test him. He would use his cleverness
rather than his magics this time. Working entirely off of his sense of
hearing, Zedryk could hear Nazerin's rhythmic footfalls tracing out some
elaborate pattern as he danced around the blinded dwarf. He waited for the
disorientation to fade just slightly as the elf circled to his left and he
bolted northward through the southern gates.

In a split decision he chose to cut straight northward through the city
using Park Road, rubbing fiercely at the dirt in his eyes as he ran.
Nazerin had not followed him through the south gate however. He had gone
along the outside of the city wall to the eastern gate to cut him off at the
market square. Zedryk stopped in his tracks and strolled into the park
instead of walking straight towards his enemy. "Maybae this'll buy mae some
time." He said to himself. There was a group of young children playing a
game with a ball near the pond. He didn't want to be here so much after
all. "Run home lil ones. Please." Thar bae an elf tryin tah kill mae."
The children laughed at him saying things like "You talk funny mister." He
couldn't get them to leave. They just might witness their first murder here
in their favorite playing grounds. "Let it nae bae said Ah've got no love
for innocence."

He left the park through the northern entrance and there was Nazerin again.
He fled before the elf could knock him to the ground, but not before
receiving a deep gash along his left leg. He hit the ground and rolled
north through the promenade. At the city dump he decided to do something
he'd never done before. He descended into Althainia's sewers. "Bluudy elf!
Look at wha ye've made of me. This bae disgusting." Just then he
remembered his buddy Waaagh, a fellow loner, had lived down here once upon a
time. Was he a buddy? He hadn't really ever attacked Zedryk. "If tha's no
a friend Ah don know what is." He chortled heartily and yelled Waaagh for
old times sake. He rested for a moment listening to it reverberate
throughout the tunnels. "Ah hope yer alright lad. Nay been seein ya in a
while." With a second to reminisce he popped back out of the sewer to see
if the elf was still lurking.

"Come home lad" said a low rumbling voice in his head. Zedryk tried to stay
focused. He entered into the market square and stepped into the Blue
Griffin. The bar tender looked up and grimaced. "You've got that look
about you master dwarf. Enemies after you? Why do the hunted always bring
their troubles in here." Two body guards flexed their muscles and looked at
him askance. "Don worry lads. Ah'm outa here."




Writer: Zedryk
Date Fri Nov 14 10:24:12 2014

To All Wargar Shalonesti Nazerin Conclave Slayers Sebatis Imm RP

Subject Decisions made in haste. Part II



He used the little mana he had left to levitate himself off the ground so
the treck ahead of him wouldn't exhaust the rest of his strength. His
wounds were excruciating, and he couldn't pray to Sebatis for the gift of
enhanced recovery with his blood still racing from the recent battles.

"COME HOME" said the voice. Though it seemed more insistent this time.

Zedryk made it out the northern gate slightly ahead of his pursuers. He
could see the peak of mount Axpvjib off in the distance now, but it didn't
seem to be getting any closer as he slowly drifted across the foothills.
With the last bit of strength he possessed Zedryk tried to reply to the
voice in his mind. He wasn't even sure who it was that was trying to
contact him.

A sense of peace washed over him as he stared at the immense mountain
towering just ahead. He was drifting forward now almost effortlessly.
"Ah'm ready Ah'd like tah come home tah tha mountain. Please."

As he approached the base of mount Axpvjib he could see the doors to the
hall of the Thane. They were flung wide, and dwarves were pouring out.
Zedryk looked skyward and offered a prayer to Sebatis. "Ah nae like
decisions made in haste, but Ah think this bae tha best one Ah've made in a
while. Wha about ye big guy? : He could see the red moon clearly in the
sky. It seemed to Zedryk to be hanging directly over the summit, and it was
full and in high sanction no less. He smiled to himself. "As good an omen
as Ah can expect." He caught a glimpse of motion from somewhere high on the
mountain. The slayers were charging down the slopes straight towards him.
They joined up with the dwarves, and together they moved southward into the
steep foothills to do battle with the elves.

Zedryk collapsed just outside the doors to the hall. Listening to the
sounds of battle nearby he thought to himself "It bae outa mah hands now.
Ah really shoulda done this a long time ago" There was a sturdy figure
standing above him wearing the robes of a priest. "Welcome home lad. About
time ye came ta yer senses. Get inside and get cleaned up. We'll take care
o this." He placed a hand on Zedryk's shoulder and with a quick pulse of
energy transferred strength to his aching limbs. Feeling refreshed, Zedryk
climbed to his feet. He tipped his head forward in respect to Fardoc, the
Thane of Wargar and bishop to Nadrik, as he strode forward through the doors
of the Wargar clan hall.




Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Fri Nov 14 13:49:51 2014

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

Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Two)


''Wait a minute. '' the surly dwarf interrupted. ''-You're- Ooof,
Vice-President of Humanoid Resources? -You're- the one I'm here to see!?
'' The ogre in the grey pinstriped suit looked down curiously at the
indignant dwarf before him. Receiving no reply, the dwarf continued.

''Who is tha bloody hell would hire an ogre to be their Vice-President!? ''
Not waiting for a reply, he continued his rant. ''Ah, what am I sayin'? If
that daft tree-lovin elf Ixi'kweez can cut down trees fer a livin, it bae
totally believable that he'd make an ogre an executive. So, tell me. Who
be your Vice-President of Marketing, a ham sandwich?! Bwahahahaha!!! ''

Ooof stoically pondered the blashphemous dwarf standing before him. The
ogre had the strong urge to pound his skull in and toss him out the window.
The thought of the annoying dwarf plummetting a thousand feet to the
courtyard below appealed to the ogre. But he had to maintain a level of
professionality. He, was Vice-President of Humanoid Resources. He brought
his palm to his chin and spoke in a neutral tone.



'Who yuz say yuz was again? '

Reminded of the very reason for his being here, the dwarf quickly shrugged
off his laughter, and his angry visage returned. He looked the hulking ogre
in the eye and introduced himself.

'Mah name bae Canicon Ingotsmiter. Yer company kidnapped mah brother, an'
I'm here to take him back! '

Ooof furrowed his brow in contemplation, as the irate dwarf fumed before
him. Ooof calmly continued.

'So. Who's yer brother? '

Canicon's visage turned from one of anger to one somewhere in between
righteous indignation and dumbfoundedness.

'Who bae me brother!? Take a good look at me, you meatbag! I bae a hill
dwarf, standing in the middle of bloody Ixi-Mart! How many hill dwarves are
ye holdin here!? '

Ooof feigned deep thought, knowing full well who Canicon was referring to.
Finally, he came around. ''Okies. Yuz must mean Yarbles. Yarbles hill
dwarf. Him nice though. Nut difficult. Like yuz. ''

'Difficult!? '' the hill dwarf bellowed in outrage. ''Ah'll show you
difficult! I will hand you you're own-'

His patience beginning to run thin, the ogre interrupted. ''Yarbles workin.
Production Floor 'B'. Come. Mez take yuz to him. '' with that, Ooof
briskly strode past the fuming Canicon and towards the elevator.

Canicon muttered loudly to himself as he turned to view the ogre walking
into the elevator cab. ''Ah'm difficult, now am I? Bloody meathead did nae
even let me finish mah tirade! Who bae the difficult one now? ''

The now despondent dwarf followed Ooof into the elevator, and they slowly
descended from the 98th floor, on their way to Production Floor 'B'.




Writer: Cassioppia

Date Fri Nov 14 14:22:35 2014




Writer: Keryann

Date Sat Nov 15 12:05:42 2014




Writer: Tanisia
Date Sat Nov 15 13:07:15 2014




Writer: Keryann
Date Sat Nov 15 18:59:39 2014

To All IMM RP

Subject It Strikes Again



Keryann spent most of the day running to get information for her tasks.
Beauty stick by her side like glue but she thought nothing of it, it was not
the first time the stallion had been so clingy to her. She continued to run
about but she had found All the information she could for the day.

She took Beauty's reins and walked towards the castle but changed her mind
and went to the garden to write her findings and pray. No sooner was she
done writing something grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth telling
her not to scream for help. At first she stayed quiet but her terror welled
up in her and she called for help. The guards immediately came to her aid
to no avail, it was hiding in the shadows so well no one could find him. It
continued whispering to her now threatening her daughter. A look of stark
terror entered her eyes and that changed everything.

Keryann walked out of the garden and back to the castle in total fear that
she was not safe anywhere she went, disgusted with the shadows that
constantly followed her, and angry because she was tired of dealing with it
and having to run. It wanted her life and if it would take it in exchange
for her daughter so be it. She had made her final decision and no one could
stop her. Yes she loved her new found family but so many things went wrong
that she did not expect and this decision had to be made. She would not
look forward to the life she hoped for, the life of being a mother to Keiyla
or any other, a life uniting a family she had prayed for..... All of that
was over.

She went to the balcony to wait. Two days would come and go too quickly and
she did not wish to miss the last days of the sunrise.





Writer: Brawnwyn
Date Sun Nov 16 11:16:27 2014




Writer: Laniath
Date Wed Nov 19 16:33:15 2014

To All IMM RP ( Taliena )

Subject Home At Last



Laniath had finished packing her backpack as she rushed down the stairs
to spend time with her parents. She helped her mother finish packing then
went to her papa who kindly refused. She kissed her papa on the cheek and
ran back to her mother. "Mama, do you need anymore help?" She asked as
she walked into the room. Her mother was crying, sitting on the bed, as
Laniath walked over to her. "Mama. She said softly. "You promised you
would not cry."
She comforted her mother, wrapping her arms around her and
kissing her on the cheek.

Her mother looked up and smiled at her saying "You were always the smart one
my dear. You have risen to the limits you have always dreamed of and for
this I am proud of you but I cannot find the strength to leave you."

Laniath looked at her and smiled lovingly "It is not like you are abandoning
me mama. It is time you and papa retire and find a place where you both
will be happy to grow old in."
Laniath gently places a hand on her mothers
cheek. "You and papa will always love me and Dojia is not that far away for
me to visit."
Her mother smiled and nodded her head. After some time, her
papa entered the room. "Are you lovely ladies ready to go?" He said
jovially with a smile. "We can talk on the way to the ship." He smiled as
he grabbed the bags and headed towards the door.

It may as well been a walk to the firing squad for no one said anything on
the way to the ship. No birds chirping, no movement in the woods, no people
walking by, and no stir of the winds. They continued to walk silently as
they finally reached the docks.

Her papa picked up his and mamas packs and set them on the pallet ready to
be lifted to the ship. She turned around, trying her best not to cry, as
she hugged and kissed her mother and father as she says, "Safe travels mama
and papa, I shall see you soon. Do not lose hope."
Her parents boarded
the ship to Dojia and she waved to her parents as it sailed away.

Once the ship reached the horizon she turned around and wiped her tears.
Now it was her turn. She grabbed her pack from the ground and headed to
Arkane for her final goodbye. She was finally on her way back home to
Althainia. She entered the gates and saw that most things had not changed,
but the people she remembered as a child, had All moved on. She was
registered and sworn in, very happy to be back home.





Writer: Saskya

Date Wed Nov 19 19:59:45 2014

To All Althainia Nordmaar Duf Lillian IMM RP

Subject Origins: Prelude to a Dream



The high priest had sent her to a battlefield on Icewall, to retrieve
something of value. Saskya didn't expect to find much. Most battlefields
were picked over and looted of anything remotely valuable within a few hours
after the battle had ended, if the scavengers even waited that long. It's
not just ravens and vultures who feast on the spoils of war, after all.

The way to the battlefield went through an occupied territory, though, that
was populated by yinn. As a traveling musician, Saskya had been just about
everywhere that had a tavern, and seen and interacted with just about every
race on Algoron. She hadn't expected any trouble. Which is why she was
caught by surprise when the guard at the entryway rushed her, shouting in
yinnish, and clubbed her over the head.

She dreamt fitfully...




Writer: Saskya

Date Wed Nov 19 20:28:28 2014

To All Althainia Nordmaar Duf Lillian IMM RP

Subject Origins: The Dream



'Da!'

A frightened, waifish girl, no more than six and probably less, trembles
helplessly as she watches her mother bloodied at her father's hands. Not
for the first time.

'Git back!' comes the drink-fueled, angry retort. 'She were warned...'

'Niels, ye've been drinkin' again...'

'In'is house, m'word bey law!'

'None's questioned ye, Niels. Please...'

'She bey MY daughter, an' she'll wear MY colors!'

'Aye, Niels. She were jus' try'na look like her mum, weren't no harm do-'

She watches her mother crumple from the blow, the blood dripping down her
cheek mingling with the dirt floor of their home. In her state of shock,
her mind can only focus on the colors, the red of the blood mixing in her
vision with the red of her father's tartan. Her father turns toward her,
and starts advancing.

'So 'twere your idea t'bey wearin' yer mother's blue, were et?'

'Mum!' But the woman's form lay still.

'Ye'll answer yer da, or ye'll get a beatin' same as she!'

Trembling, she nods. 'Aye, Da...'

'Then et's the cane for ye, y'ungrateful whelp!'

'Da! No, Da! Please!'




Writer: Saskya
Date Wed Nov 19 20:53:09 2014

To All Althainia Nordmaar Duf Lillian IMM RP

Subject Origins: Just a Dream



Saskya woke with a start, then groaned. Her head was still pounding from
the yinn's club. She took a few moments to gather her senses, then made her
escape...

Back in Althainia, she commented on her journey:

'I guess that yinn thought I looked like a Nordmaarian, too!'

A dwarf, one who claimed to have been raised in Nordmaar, responded: 'Ye
aint?'

Sitting alone at the cots, still recovering from the ordeal, Saskya pulled
out the letter she'd received from the librarian in Nordmaar, Lillian
Wallace. She remembered the visit she'd made, and the insistence that the
right memory just needed to be stirred to the surface. She remembered
laughing at how they kept fighting over whether she was Nord or Viking.
She'd given Lillian the names of her parents, not expecting anything.

But Lillian had found something:

"Niels MacGregor, son of Rhonwyn Bruce and Liam MacGregor.

Jette MacAllan, parents unknown.

It is possible these are your relatives. Should you claim ancestry, you
would be most welcome to call Nordmaar home."

Saskya had hesitated, then. The people were warm enough, and the fires
helped too in that climate. But she didn't know anything but the road she'd
been traveling since her mother took her away. She couldn't remember.

Or she didn't want to.

"What little I know and remember of my father isn't pleasant. My mother
ended up running off with me when I was still very young to escape his
drink-fueled abuses, so that I wouldn't risk the same treatment. I would
not wish to bring dishonor to the MacGregor clan by claiming association to
it through my father, and so it is probably best I assume the Niels you
found record of is not him.

My mother, if she belonged to a clan, I would think might have gone to them
for aid or support after escaping my father, but she and I ended up as
constant nomads. Either there was some reason she could not go to them for
help, or she was not a MacAllen and therefore had no clan to go to."

Maybe she didn't want them to be found, didn't want to be tracked through
the family.

Maybe it was just a dream, brought on by a crack on the head.

Maybe she was safer, leaving the past alone.




Writer: Elrei
Date Fri Nov 21 19:38:38 2014

To All Althainia Taliena ( Imm RP )

Subject A Sigh of Silent Resignation



"I scribed a rough copy of my vision for the Church, to present to
Laniath. I expected, based on your statement of her interest, that she
would inform me where in the new structure she would feel comfortable. I
was not going to insult her ability by asking her to begin as a
Parishioner."

In truth, Laniath had seemed anything but interested in the Church when
Elrei approached her. Her responses limited to one word at first, her
reluctance to leave her spot in a sunny field (sending her intended husband
to guide Elrei to her instead).

"I admitted to her that the book was a departure from what came before.
But if that change was undesirable, then it could not be effective. I
was... Disappointed. Whereas I had expected to address this with her with
the given assumption that we would be operating under what I had designed,
and asked her to tell me where she saw herself within the structure... She
seemed instead convinced that I had given it to her for critique. That I
was not in authority."

Indeed, if she was interested in the Church at all, it seemed clear that
interest was only in leading it. Compounded with the supposed newcomers who
were interested in joining, but had no ability to contact or write to Elrei
expressing that interest - a pattern he had seen in Shalonesti as well which
frustrated him to no end - it seemed there was only one reasonable action to
take.

"Laniath does not wish to align herself with my vision of the Church.
She believes my work to be insufficient, finding the previous method of two
sects, research topics, and so on, to be superior. I therefore wish to
offer my resignation."

As he had stated to Aliera in their prior meeting on this same eve, if he
was simply so inapproachable that the Church was suffering because none had
the temerity to seek him out either in person or by letter, then he needed
to be replaced.

"I came here, returned here, because I was told the Church needed a
leader. That was incorrect. The Church has leaders. What it needs is
those who will follow. If none are willing to follow me, I can accept
that."

Aliera made no move to reject his resignation. Her statements to the
effect of his being a "valuable part of the Empire" seemed only to echo the
hollow statements at his retirement from the Senate in Shalonesti. Her
desire to have his book regardless of its supposed uselessness rankled, but
Elrei had no desire to show anything which might be interpreted as spite.
Still, once again it seemed that no one wanted his work until he was gone.
That it had been vetted and approved by both the Emperor and Regent before
this point did not even seem to matter. Laniath's dismissal of it was the
quietus.

Nor was there any delay in Laniath announcing herself as successor,
despite that Aliera had not written an announcement regarding Elrei's
resignation. Perhaps that was how she had intended to "handle it," as she
said. What surprised him most, however, was the wording of Laniath's
announcements, expressing herself to be a "breath of fresh air" for the
Church, and announcing the "new path" that it would take. This, after
stating to him that the problems with his own work stemmed from his
divergence from what was previously used, and that "sometimes traditional is
not bad." This, from a human to an Elf.

This was no new path, simply an old one revisited.

And Elrei couldn't seem to shake the feeling it had been planned.




Writer: Amex

Date Sat Nov 22 14:17:48 2014




Writer: Deccan

Date Sun Nov 23 04:21:37 2014

To All Abaddon Zypher Imm Fatale roleplay religion

Subject + A Walk To Remember +


Abaddon. The one kingdom where life and death dance together in a slow
waltz, mingling together until one can barely separate one from the other.
Wraiths and spirits dance in the air above the streets where guards made up
of little more than bone watch their living charges walk the streets with
their empty, yet eerily alive eyes.

Laughter and Music filled the streets tonight as it did each night.
Alluring, welcoming and yet dark and haunting. An enchanting mix that gave
the kingdom it's life. Deccan walked the streets tonight as he did most
nights. Smiling faces watched him from the doorways and windows of the
sunken buildings lining the streets. All of them watching the people on the
streets, calling out to them and encouraging those on the streets to come
join them in the shadows. Those foolish enough to fall prey to their allure
would soon find themselves dead or worse.

Women of the night smiled their charming smiles, enchanting passer byers to
come and join them inside. A juggler tossed flaming knives into the air,
catching them and tossing them up again with practiced skill, barely
watching the knives as he grinned at those who walked by.

Deccan rested his hand on the hawks head pommel of his bastard sword as he
followed a drunk stumbling his way down the street. Deccan knew how this
night would end for the drunk and he was eager to be there when the fool met
his end. To witness a life taken for Fatale. To see this man's final
moments.

The drunk turned down and an ally familiar to Deccan and he knew that this
night would soon come to an end for the drunken man. A pair of women
emerged from a dark doorway, smiling and laughing as they placed their arms
around the drunk, offering him more liquor and kissing along his cheek and
neck. He was All to pleased to follow them wherever they lead.

Deccan smiled to himself as he saw them turn him back towards the shadowed
doorway but his attention was taken elsewhere as he spotted a lone figure
standing in the allyway. A raven haired beauty wearing an equally dark
dress which seemed to turn to a dark shadowy mist as it hit the ground. The
woman's figure was hard to focus on and yet her eyes were clear and
distinct. A beautiful and familiar grey. Deccan knew these eyes...

'It wants me dead... You have to save me. ' the woman said. Her voice a
beautiful mixture between a whisper and a voice in his head. Seeming to
come from everywhere at once. She moved gracefully towards him, seeming to
float on the mist more than walk, '... The answer lies in the swamp. '

Deccan blinked and she was gone. He shook his head as if to clear it of
what had just occured and turned towards the doorway to find it empty. The
drunk was gone and most likely already dead but Deccan didn't care anymore.
The woman's words were still ringing in his ears...




Writer: Aliera

Date Mon Nov 24 00:56:53 2014




Writer: Gaudin

Date Mon Nov 24 02:42:56 2014




Writer: Syora

Date Wed Nov 26 13:20:19 2014

To All Roleplay

Subject The Light Sculpter, pt.1



Something in her heart had grown heavy. Hard. Cold.

The sorrow had long since grown numb and her anger had dwindled to a
mere shadow. As she spent more and more of her time hidden away in the
mountain cavern, she could feel herself growing more and more distant
from herself. She saw this, vividly, and she felt nothing.

Syora Snowdragon had always been a committed recluse, but the weight
of despair had transformed her love of solitude into something dark and
unkind. She felt weathered and frail. Her eyes had grown sunken. Her
complexion had grown sickly pale. Only through the effort of her
illusionary magic could she conceal her ghastly visage from the world.

She realized one morning, with dreadful clarity, how close she was to the
brink of death. She could see the abyss in front of her. One step, one
subtle act of will and, without fear or concern or passion, she could have
fallen over. Her hardened and unfamiliar heart would wither to dust. She
would be no more.

Outside of time, outside of thought, she contemplated this. The abyss
hung in front of her eyes and she considered the silence. The emptiness.
The ease of it. But she looked upon it clearly, and knew that to step
forward would be an irredeemable act. If she stepped forward there would
be nothing, and no going back and, perhaps, no peace to be found.

And with that thought, a question lit up in her mind: Was it worth it? Was
the end of All things in her world truly what she desired? If she truly
felt hollow, if she truly felt nothing, then what was there to be gained
by seeking the void? Did she, perhaps, still have something to lose?




Writer: Syora

Date Wed Nov 26 13:21:24 2014

To All Roleplay

Subject The Light Sculpter, pt.2



And so, with that small flicker of a thought catching in her mind, she
began to do something she had not done in a very long time. She began to
investigate her heart.

Immediately, she felt the weight of it. Like a hard, blackened stone, she
could feel the despair in her chest as a physical presence. It sunk deep.
Impossibly, perhaps infinitely, deep. But it was a different sort of depth
than that of death. This vastness, this darkness, was her own. Her own to
shut out. Her own to explore. She chose the latter and pressed forward.

The tears came first, and then the memories. The thick air of sorrow pulled
at her features, contorting her face into a mask of pain. The tears came
quickly, followed closely by memories of her mother and the
accompanying feelings of loss. She is gone from my life, thought Syora,
and I shall never see her again. The feeling of loss ached, but it was so
different from the hard, hollow despair of melancholy. This was something
vast, expansive, painful, and undeniably real. She embraced the pain, like
a mother embracing her child, and pressed forward.

The hard gravel around her heart grew brittle. As she looked at it more
carefully, more fully, it began to crack and fall away. How useless this
hardened shell had been. How stifling. As the depth and vastness at the
core of her heart became more and more apparent, the cold and hardened
shell seemed more and more foolish, more brittle, more easily discarded.

And there it was, she saw so clearly, the soft warmth that still resided in
the core of her being. It was a small thing, fragile and unnourished, but it
lived. She held it in her mind with warmth and compassion and apology.
She lamented how she could have been so cruel to lock this part of herself
away, to ignore it, to hate it so. And then, as if to make amends, she did
what any mother would do to something so small and helpless and
starved. She fed it.




Writer: Syora

Date Wed Nov 26 13:23:09 2014

To All Roleplay

Subject The Light Sculpter, pt.3



The light burst forth immediately. A bright, dazzling, literal, visible light.
Conjured from her heart and made manifest through the arts of her magic,
the light beamed from her entire being, filling the cave around her with
blinding brightness and banishing the dark.

And then she began to do something she had not done in so long. She
began to craft it. With no thought, following only the movement of her
heart, she bent the light, shaped it, colored it, gave it form. The cavern
grew vast in her eyes, vast and as indomitable as the sky, and with the
light pouring out of her she filled it.

For a long time it was All shapes and colors. Nothing specific, nothing
planned. She was not sure exactly what she was creating, nor did she
care. These forms were hers, and for the first time since the loss of her
mother, she felt the courage and the strength to give them shape.

Syora Snowdragon lived in the world once more, and her light was hers to
shine.




Writer: Neoni
Date Fri Nov 28 22:50:55 2014




Writer: Neoni
Date Fri Nov 28 22:54:12 2014




Writer: Neoni
Date Fri Nov 28 22:56:59 2014




Writer: Thaydius
Date Fri Nov 28 23:26:37 2014

To All ( Religion Siccara Imm )

Subject Expression



Being the fragment of a goddess meant memories and understanding that
seemed impossible or bizarre in the moment. Images and feelings from the
long tapestry of time went as fast as they came, difficult to grip for
anything more than some notion of having experienced another life at another
point in time. Once, a long time ago, he tried to focus on this connection.
Drawing onto the cosmic power of a goddess, even for his divine blood, was
overwhelming. Every tiny instant drew him further from this realm, through
the sky and eventually into the stars, toward the beyond. That was a place
his mind could not go.

But they were connected. He had always identified strongly in accordance
with his Mother's mission and teachings. Naturally, her desires were his
desires. Her joy was his joy. Her pain was his pain. And in nothing was
this more apparent than his Aunt. Perhaps the tether could work the other
way around, though? Maybe his joy could be her joy. But that seemed like a
less than reliable theory, especially without knowing the results.

Instead, with the Speaker's permission, he took a collection of seeds into
the vast vallenwoods. There, in a grove, amidst a circle of fresh grass
with a view of the sky, he planted them. And though he was respectful of
his Great Aunt's domain, he didn't necessarily have time to wait for these
little presents to grow. With a gesture from his glowing hands, he willed
the field to life with a radiant blossom of lavender and lilies. The
bell-shaped flowers and refreshing fragrance would have certainly been
apparent to the heightened senses of the Elves living near the grove.

Wherever he went, trouble was sure to follow. But before he departed from
the peaceful little place, he forged moisture from thin air, bringing a body
of water from the rifts of magic. With his eclectic gifts, he fashioned two
statues of pure, glistening ice there in the middle of the forest. The
magical statue was thick and strong, impervious to the elements like the
many fragments that covered his skin.

What shape did the figures take? Two young women, one expertly weaving
braids into the other's hair. Both of them in gowns, with flowers in their
hair and All around them. One, with glowing hands, was bedecked in
lavender. The other, with a face so gentle that it could end a war, was
adorned in lilies. This was a memory he drew from his mind. Not a memory
of his, of course, but a stronger memory than one he would ever forge while
he was in Algoron. It was a beautiful moment, and he captured the two
sisters with clarity that only something supernatural could muster.

He pressed a kiss to the forehead of his Mother's likeness, closing his eyes
and glowing with a soft light as to imbue one of the tiny flowers with his
essence. Then he gently nestled it onto her ear and let it sit there to
glow before he turned and warped off into the distance, over the horizon
like a beam of light.




Writer: Amex
Date Sat Nov 29 08:56:35 2014




Writer: Trylum
Date Sun Nov 30 12:33:31 2014




Writer: Erebaal
Date Mon Dec 1 03:13:03 2014

To Chaos All Malachive ( Storyline Scorn )

Subject Musings and Promises



In the shade, where nothing was meant to thrive, stood an edifice that
should have never been. A monument of blood and bone, it oozed and wept
ichor from boles and knots, dotted intrusions that bubbled with sticky
vitae. It was not of a natural world, a canker that fed on the life of
Algoron. In its perverted shadow sat a man, greater and less than the
construct, garbed only in the roughspun robes of a cultist-acolyte, an
affectation not chosen through humility, but through necessity as the
shapeless gowns of the half ogres were All that could contain his grotesque
physique, human musculature swollen to unsightly proportions, knotting his
limbs and making his scarred flesh ripple in manners that appeared painful
to the few that dared intrude on the Everchosen during his periods of
brooding.

A change had come over the man, mere weeks and yet centuries ago as well. A
transformation that he had not wished for, but needed All the same. The
tainted blood that had passed his lips had twisted him, bending his mind to
see above the fog of crazed mania that he had rampaged within for years.
Where he had once seen but the vague notions of what he journeyed toward,
the true details and nature obscured by the bloody haze of madness and
bloodlust, his sight had been restored, reason tempered with that self-same
fury to forge a new man from the bestial ruins of the old. He had become
more than a soldier and a man that day, but a leader and a lord, a wielder
of the powers of Chaos that still rested dormant within the corrupted heart
of the Warp.

The secrets within, the strength that he heard promise of, faint whispers at
the edge of hearing, elicited a hunger. Despite the healing of his broken
mind, the voices remained. Once he would have obeyed their manic demands
blindly, now he understood their purpose and understood their speaker. A
thick fingertip ran along the spine of the tome that rest on the stone floor
before him, its cover bound in human flesh. Stretched tight across its
cover were the features of a man, aged beyond measure and worn by
experiences that would have annihilated any other man, the Everchosen
included. His body destroyed, his essence had survived, manifested in a
tome that now yielded to the will of the Champion of Chaos. Its power was
great, the mere act of possession granting power beyond that of the common
soldier the Everchosen was and even the lumbering champion that supplanted
the slave. The book's human features twitched and a half-heard snort
emanated from the binding, the cover trembling but remaining closed.
Despite All of this, the being's essence retained a semblance of life. It
still spoke. It still slept. It still kept its secrets.

The Everchosen's focus turned upon the pages filling the tome's passages,
the cover refusing to yield in its slumber despite his attempts. Whatever
words were penned within were beyond his grasp, whatever power those words
commanded lost until the book awoke once more. His lip curled and a growl
sounded low in his throat, the heat of fury welcome in his breast as he
pondered the remains of the most powerful mortal on Algoron. He and his
brothers fought a battle on scales that were beyond laughable, and while
their victories were satisfying, rarely were they truly telling, and rarely
did the world take more than passing, haughty notice of the glorious
bloodshed that sustained the construct which he sat beneath.

It All came down to power, the power to destroy. The power to purge, to
break, and to reap. To harvest a bounty of unworthy souls and upset the
balance of the world. The power possessed by so very few, one of whom lay
just within reach, but out of his grasp.

The Everchosen snarled and took to his bare feet, scooping up the tome and
making for the darkened catacombs of the Warp. He disliked being without
his armor when it received its cursory repairs. Losing himself in the
depths of the Warp, Erebaal growled, only the voices and the somnolent
Seanan for company.




Writer: Elrei
Date Mon Dec 1 21:50:51 2014

To All Trylum Meki Skylla Taliena ( Imm RP )

Subject Seen but not (yet) heard



"This is Trylum."

Trylum was a young wemic, another cub taken in by Meki, of about eight
summers. About four years ago, he'd been injured: a blow to the throat that
had since prevented him from speaking. In All honesty, Elrei didn't
consider Trylum's chances of recovering, at this point, to be particularly
good. Four years meant it may have already healed incorrectly, making such
a prospect tricky at best. Then again, it may have simply stunted some
growth which could be rectified with time. And, Trylum was still very
young, and the young are, despite their vulnerabilities, very resilient and
good at bouncing back from illness and injury.

Elrei inspected the young wemic's throat, asking questions as he prodded
and tested. It had never been treated by anyone before now, so there was no
concern, at least, over incorrect healing practices being applied. That
Trylum could still produce a purr from deep in the chest, Elrei took as a
good sign. Even better was that he could, with effort, produce a tiny
amount of sound from the mouth.

"At the moment, and given the sound you made, I might hazard a problem
with the vocal folds, rather than the lower part of the throat... I think
you have a very good chance of recovery yet. However, it will take a bit of
work on your part.
"

Exercises, to build up resilience in the vocal folds. As a former
long-time member of the jongleur's guild, twice over, Elrei knew about vocal
exercises. He offered licorice drops, in case of overexertion, though they
apparently were not the child's favorite sort of treat. No accounting for
taste, Elrei supposed.

And, beyond All this, blessings of recovery and endurance. Silently,
Elrei prayed to his Goddess, "Mother, this child is brought to me lacking a
voice, caused by an injury to the throat when he was but four years old. I
pray these blessings may aid his recovery and restore what has been lost.
"

This would be the longer, but least traumatic course. Elrei hoped it
would be sufficient.




Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Dec 2 12:54:26 2014




Writer: Trylum
Date Tue Dec 2 17:41:06 2014

To All Elrei Trylum Meki Skylla Taliena ( Imm RP )

Subject Getting his Voice



Trylum talks to noone. Sitting in the grass, Trylum sits and talks to
the tree and never utters a sound. Concentration on moving his vocal
chords, willing them to make a sound, anything. Over and over in his mind
he hears Meki say they need to be broken again to be fixed. Trylum knows
Elrei means well, but... Can blessings really do the impossible? Well,
thats taking too long. Theres things he wants to say, things he has to say.
Time to do this himself. Standing he hurries to the donation pits, flinging
things from one pile to another looking for something. Finding it runs out
to the temple to the first person he sees. Great. Its the King Himself.
Well, he'll have to do. Thrusting the elven stick into the kings hands he
doesn't wait to lose his nerve. Straightening the kings arm to just short
of his head he uses the King's puzzlement to be sure he will stay just.
Like. That. Backing up clear into the crafters room he runs full tilt at
Arthais's outstretched arm and the stick he holds. WAHM! When he thought
of this idea, he didn't realize it would hurt this much. Writhing on the
floor Trylum clutches his throat, gasping for breath he tries to stand but
falls back to the floor. Looking up at Arthais, he looks horrified. Poor
guy.

Getting back to his feet, he concentrates really hard and starts talking to
Arthais. It didn't work, no sounds come out. Taking his stick back he
walks into the temple rubbing his throat, fighting against the tears that
are threatening to overwhelm him, that really hurt. He feels so foolish.
Stabbing the stick into the ground, Trylum just stares at it, rubbing his
throat and trying to figure out why he failed.




Writer: Thesh
Date Wed Dec 3 16:00:07 2014




Writer: Lunez
Date Wed Dec 3 16:22:57 2014

To All New_Thalos Randorf Azzure Marcaus Telthian Bodrum Imm (Surviving Elite Gladiators: Eamenoth Thesh )

Subject Chronicles of Thesh Dridesh (4) - Breaking Chains, The First Fight


The goblinoid fighter sat alone in his wing of the New Thalos coliseum
which had been set aside for only him. Hunched over on his knees he
carefully and deliberately drew the surroundings of his home land into the
sand. Hearing the chants for a fight getting louder and louder, the goblin
clenched a handful of sand in his fist and slowly let it drain out...
Slowing time as he watched each grain fall.

A drunken dwarf appeared behind him, "Aet bae toim teh march ter yer death.
Up ye go, an ah'll bae placin mae wager safelae on teh elf ye git.
" As
Thesh made his way to the arena, All the chants that weren't coming from New
Thalosians seemed to be favoring the elf. Some were mocking his master,
calling him a fool for sending in such a weak breed.

As he was lead to the preparation room, he could hear the tallies being made
as to how many people had bet on the goblinoid. The number of bets placed
on him totalled 11. Chants and bellows came out from the crowd, cheering on
their favored elitist, which was not Thesh.

Piece by piece, Thesh prepared his armament. Either this fight would be one
step closer to avenging his family.. Or it would send him straight to his
family in the afterlife.

FIGHT! The crowd went wild with enthusiasm and leapt from their seats as
the fight started. Both fighters testing the waters as to the skill of the
opponent. After one another determined that fight would be a difficult one
the fight began in grand scale. The elf managed to stab him in the flank
and draw the energy out of his body. This managed nothing other than to
enrage Thesh. Mentally he told his spirit fighter to pound the elf with his
horns until nothing remained of him. Sensing mortal danger, the elf
retreated and gathered his own elemental fighters.

Each fighter grew exhausted from the match, but the spirit managed to cleave
him in the guts hard enough to render him incapable of continuing. Hegeta
appeared in the arena and commended the fighters, but reminded Thesh that
Morith was to die.

Thesh slowly treaded over towards the doomed elf, and speared him through
the base of the skull to make the end as quick as possible. With All of his
might, he planted the spear into the ground for All to see the head of his
fallen opponent.




Writer: Amex

Date Fri Dec 5 16:11:06 2014




Writer: Elrei

Date Fri Dec 5 19:13:47 2014




Writer: Frederyk
Date Fri Dec 5 20:41:26 2014




Writer: Frederyk
Date Fri Dec 5 21:15:55 2014




Writer: Amex
Date Sat Dec 6 05:03:08 2014




Writer: Jesamaine
Date Sat Dec 6 20:31:16 2014

To All IMM RP

Subject Long Lost Brother * A tribute to Savras Shadowblade *


Jesamaine traveled far and wide in search for her brother Savras. She
was told he had gone to Shokono for some special herbs, so she took the ship
to Shokono and headed after him. She watched as the shore grew closer, the
closer it got, the more anxious she would get. The ship docked and she
bounded down to the platform as quickly as she could hoping, by chance, she
could catch a glimpse of him as he walked by. To her disappointment, he was
not anywhere to be seen.

She climbed the hills into the city of Shokono and asked as many people as
she could about Savras, but no one had seen him. Jesamaine finally found a
strange shop that sold some odds and ends, nothing really special, but
interesting in ways. On a shelf she saw some powders All different colors
and All different sizes, quite interesting, she thought as she asked the
young lady about Savras. "He was here about two weeks ago." She said "He
said he was going to Dojia."
The young woman smiled as Jesamaine turned
and headed out the door.

Jesamaine reached the docks again hoping that maybe she would catch Savras
waiting for a ship to get home, he was nowhere to be seen. She walked the
winding paths All the way into Dojia going house to house, asking every
villager if they had seen Savras and, if they had, where could he be now,
but no one knew anything. She wandered around every village asking for him
when finally she ran into an elderly dojian gentleman, "Good day Sir, Have
you seen my brother Savras Shadowblade? He is a tall elf, looks rather
distinguished, in a long robe, and looks a lot like me?"
She said. The
gentleman looked at her very closely, his eyes squinting "Ah yes! Savras
Shadowblade! I have known him for many many years. He took care of my
family for a long time. Many Family. Why do you look for him here?"
He
asked. "I was told he was here in Dojia so I came looking for him. Is he
still here I would love to see him?"
She looked at him excitedly. "I am
afraid he is not little Shadowblade. He has gone back to Arkane."
He
looked at he sadly as he saw the look of disappointment in her eyes.

Jesamaine was back on the ship on her way back to Arkane her hopes of
finding her brother starting to waver as she saw the docks getting further
and further away. She looked down at the sea exhaustedly, each league
taking a bit more energy from her, as she started to see land ahead. She
sighed as she prayed that her trip back to Arkane would not be a lost cause.
As the ship docked, she walked over to the platform slowly, she wondered why
she was so hesitant, but walked towards the kingdom of Arkane. She made her
way through the center of the city and something made her go south.

She walked towards the shopping district but, heard her name whispered in
the wind out of the south gate, it was Savras's voice or she thought. She
followed the voice into the woods where she came close to something that
looked like a table made of lovely greens, vines, and flowers. It was such
a beautiful display she could not resist walking towards it. Two druids
were standing at each side chanting words she could not understand, but
making her feel an inner peace in her heart that she never felt before.
Jesamaine walked closer to the greens and as she looked down she found her
brother Savras. "Do not worry young Shadowblade for your brother Savras did
not suffer, he passed peacefully in his sleep and is now of the Gods."

Jesamaine nodded at the druid looking down at his peaceful face. "I shall
never forget you my friend, my companion, my brother."

* Dedicated to Brian Henry my best friend may he rest in peace. *




Writer: Erebaal

Date Mon Dec 8 03:57:00 2014

To All Bloodlust Chaos ( Malachive Scorn Immortal Storyline )

Subject Blood and Mayhem


Dread chuckling filled the great hall of the Warp, emanating from a lone
figure who stood in full battle regalia, his battered armor scorched and
blackened in places, crusted with dried blood in others. His body was clad
in steel, his gauntlets tipped with claws, his skull encased in iron, his
boots shod in metal. From his gauntlets dripped blood, rich and pungent.
It oozed and it spattered on the ground, caking the metal joints of his
armored hands, and it smeared nicely as the man daubed upon the monument
that dominated the heart of the Warp.

Metallic screeches keened as the Everchosen completed his gruesome work.
The killing had been good that day. He had claimed his own, and he had lent
his hand to more. They had died shrieking and screaming, panicking in their
haste to flee the wrath of the darkened. The sound of the priestess' death
rattle in particular raised his lifeless lips in the grim facsimile of a
pleased grin. The wench had proven a thorn through repeated battles.
Shedding blood readily but always retreating. Always hiding. Always
needing her praetorians. When the Horde had arrived, it had been no contest
whatsoever.

The screeching stopped as the Everchosen paused, considering his work and
the events of battle. The Horde was not trustworthy, to be certain.
Lap-dogs of Fatale, craving death in All respects. That aim, he could
respect, but their vision remained too narrow. They killed because they
were commanded to, not of their own volition. They had strength of body,
but not of character. They would strip the earth clean, in time, but they
would never strike a true deathblow. Their own lives were held too dear.
Gauntlets clicked and clattered as he raised his other hand to brush it
against the monument, eliciting more screeches as he daubed a second design,
the macabre mirror of the first.

If there were to be consequences for this night, they would not fall upon
his head. He was a warrior, a man of the field who reaped the blood of the
meek to bring to this place to offer upon the monument. His actions were
above reproach, his will aligned with the lost whim of a dead patron, a
fallen father, a brother lost to war. The deeds of his allies of
convenience...

The Everchosen chuckled, scraping his claws down the monument, flinging
blood in a messy pattern upon the thorny edifice. He raked his arm in three
more rough motions, spattering the crude design and laughing gutturally now.
The ugly sound was steeped in malice. If the warriors of the Horde were
visited by their wretched patrons and held true... They could yet find the
seeds of a Champion within them.

'And if they crumble... Then no matter. The way remains clear. '

The Everchosen stepped back to consider his handiwork. Two eight-pointed
stars stared back at him, dark red stark against the bone white of the
construct that loomed over him. He cocked his head and listened for the
murmur, the faint playing on the edge of hearing that affirmed his thoughts.

This night, the voices were incoherent, murmurs that meant nothing but
promised madness. Grunting and turning away, the Everchosen stalked back
into the Warp's underbelly, satisfied with the deed, if not the results. He
had nothing but time, and the world had plenty of offerings yet to make. He
would find the right one, if it took a lifetime.




Writer: Ulrog

Date Mon Dec 8 19:02:41 2014




Writer: Ulrog

Date Mon Dec 8 19:04:35 2014




Writer: Tyrinx

Date Tue Dec 9 00:27:40 2014




Writer: Elkentaur

Date Wed Dec 10 18:43:02 2014

To All Arkane Arthais Drakkara ( Imm RP )

Subject Alone with his thoughts.



He sat alone in the library at the desk he used to use when he was Wizard
of the Azure Tower staring at the wall, seeing nothing but the images in his
head. Images of days long past, Of Jarinard and his days in Arkane, as a
trusted friend, then as a trusted King. Of Stormina, a better ally in
battle would be hard found back then. Of Launy, her friendship was of the
purest kind. He had known them all, fought beside them all, bled for them
all.

Arkane seemed to him a diminished thing, a stepping stone for most. The
current King, Arthais... While a good man and expert in warfare, seems very
much not a part of the Kingdom itself anymore. While this happens from time
to time without exception, this time seemed... Different.

Elkentaur stares out into the nothing, wondering how long a Kingdom ruled by
an unseen force can last?

Sighing heavily Elkentaur then heads back down the tower stairs to the
Healer's Chambers, ready to get back to work. Pushing the disturbing
thoughts from his mind. For now.




Writer: Ulrog
Date Fri Dec 12 14:59:01 2014




Writer: Tief
Date Fri Dec 12 21:46:22 2014




Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Sat Dec 13 11:26:17 2014

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

Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Flashback: Ooof Meets Yarbles)


Feeling compelled to reward himself, the newly named Vice-President of
Humanoid Resources gave himself the afternoon off. Closing his office door
gingerly behind him, he made his way from the aging Ixi-Mart Worldwide
Headquarters building, and strode out onto the plain to the north. The
noonday sun's rays felt good on the ogre's hulking bones. However, he did
not expect to see another person on the undeveloped plain, let alone the odd
creature he laid his eyes upon, after following the pronounced yelling and
cracking sounds that drew his attention.

''WooooOOOOoooOOnnnnNNNN!!! TwoooOOOoOooOO!!!! THREE!!!!! '' *smash*

Ooof quietly observed the most unusual hill dwarf from about ten yards away.
He was standing next to what appeared to be the top of a large boulder,
protruding from the earth's surface. The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit
watched in curious silence for several minutes, as the dwarf repeated his
previous actions over and over.

Again, the dwarf shouted his count, and again, he smashed his forehead into
the immovable boulder with ludicrous force. After a split second of stunned
silence, a huge smile grew upon his face, and be began to dance about
haphazardly. Several seconds later, his revelry abated, the happy dwarf set
himself and began the ritual once again.

It didn't take a Vice-President of Humanoid Resources to see that this was
no ordinary dwarf. This dwarf, was 'special'. Concerned that the little
dwarf would seriously injure himself, Ooof called out to him.

'Hey, yuz! Why yuz headbuttin that rock? Wut dat rock ever do to yuz?! '

Momentarily distracted by the ogre's words, the dwarf turned to face Ooof.
Smiling and waving frantically, he shouted back.

''Hiyo! I Yarbles!! '' And with that, Yarbles turned to face his nemesis,
the boulder, once again.

'Erm, okies, Yarbelz. So uh, why yuz out here headbuttin--'

''WooooOOOOoooOOnnnnNNNN!!! TwoooOOOoOooOO!!!! THREE!!!!! '' *smash*

The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit pondered Yarbles thoughtfully.
Clearly, this dwarf had been 'touched by the gods'. But it seemed unusual
and unwise to Ooof, that he would be All the way out here, unaccompanied.
He shouted out to any that might hear him.

'HEY! Anyonez lose a... Um, special dwarf? One that likez headbuttin'
rocks over an over? '

He received no answer, save for the noise made by the dancing Yarbles. The
dwarf set himself once more to tackle the boulder.

'WooooOOOOoooOOnnnnNNNN!!! TwoooOOOoOoo-'

'Hey, wait a minute! '

Yarblez halted his count and turned to regard the Vice-President of Humanoid
Resources once more, a blank expression on his face.

'So, yuz hungry? Gut food and ale back at Headquarters. Give yuz place to
sleep if you needs to. Then wez try to finds out where yuz are supposed to
be. Sound gud? '

Eventually processing the question offered to him, Yarblez's blank
expression faded, replaced by a broad smile.

''Okay! '' Yarblez quickly ambled to Ooof's side, and they leisurely made
their way back to Headquarters.




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sat Dec 13 11:53:37 2014

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

Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Three)


'So, yuz see, '' The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit offered, ''Ooof nut
kidnap Yarblez. Ooof find him All alone in the middle of nowherez. Give
himz food, and a place to sleep. Take real gud care of him. Give him
somethings to do. Nut hurt him. '

Canicon furrowed his brow, as he listened to the ogre's words while they
descended from the top of the Ixi-Mart Tower. His expression was
significantly less virulent than it had been just moments before.

'Well, if wot ye bae tellin me bae true, then ah suppose I should bae
thankin ye. I've been lookin everywhere for him. Who knows what could've
happened to that simpleton out there. '

The ogre regarded Canicon solemnly. ''Yuz his brother. Whatz his deal?
Nut get Ooof wrong. Yarblez real nice and gud worker. But, what happened
to Yarblez? ''

The large dwarf sighed audibly, then offered his explanation.

'Aye, he bae me brother. Me younger brother. Our mother died while
birthin' him. The elders, they managed to deliver him successfully. But he
was in there for quite some time with nae oxygen. Clearly, it has affected
him. '

''Anyway, '' Canicon continued, ''I've been lookin after him ever since.
And sure. -Maaaaybe- I get into the ale too much sometimes. And -maaaaybe-
sometimes I pass out an he wanders off. But, someone's always brought im
back! Noone's ever been crazy enough to keep him before. Until now! ''

* ding! *

The elevator cab came to a complete halt, and its doors slowly opened,
revealing what appeared to be some sort of factory area. Ooof strode from
the cab.

'Okies. Fifth floor. Production Floor 'B'. Come. Yuz see. Yarblez
perfectly fine. '




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sat Dec 13 12:28:15 2014

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

Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Four)


''WoooooOOOOOoooOOOooNNNnNNNNN!!!! TwoooOOOooOOoOOOOO!!!! TREEE!!!! ''
*loud metallic smashing*

Yarbles held the now dented steel neckguard up to the light, scrutinizing
it. Judging it to be up to snuff, he gently placed the peice down on the
right of the table at which he stood. He clapped his hands and danced
merrily for a few seconds, then reached into the crate to his left, pulling
out a new, pristine neckguard, placing it directly in front of him.

'See? Yarblez jus fine. Enjoy his job. Does gud work. Getz gud pay. '

'Aye, an I wouldn't have believed it if ah hadn't seen it with mah own eyes.
'' Canicon replied, seemingly quite impressed. ''Why, look him go! '

''WoooooOOOOOoooOOOooNNNnNNNNN!!!! TwoooOOOooOOoOOOOO!!!! TREEE!!!! ''
*loud metallic smashing*

The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit walked out from behind the partition
from which he and the dwarf were observing, prompting Canicon to follow.

'Hey, Yarblez. It's break time. Come seez who I brought with mez. '

The mentally challenged dwarf turn his head to regard Ooof and his brother.
A broad smile grew on his face.

It was Canicon that spoke first. ''Yarbles, ye dimwit, I finally found ye!
''

Yarblez waved his little arms frantically. ''Hiya Ooof! Hiya Canny! I
Yarbles! ''

'Ye sure are, brother! An look at ye! A workin dwarf! Noone in the
village would e'er believe it! '

Canicon sighed and continued. ''Ah, well. I suppose we should be gettin
back to the village already. Everyone's been worried sick about ye. Come
on, Yarbles. Let's go home! ''

A confused look crept upon Yarbles's face, as his gaze vacillated between
the Vice-President and his brother. This, in turn, prompted a look of
concern from the ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit.

'I dunno, '' Ooof offered delicately. ''Yarblez look like him nut know if
he wants to go or stay. '

Canicon's visage immediately became one of disbelief, bordering on outrage.
He turned to the Vice-President, visibly upset.

'Ye cannae be serious! Ye can't just keep him here! '




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sat Dec 13 13:16:39 2014

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

Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Five)


Canicon took a deep breath and quickly composed himself. He took into
consideration the ogre's genuine affection for Yarbles, before he continued.


'Look, lad. I can clearly see your heart bae in the right place. Ye and
yer Ixi-Mart seem to have taken great care for him, and for that, I am
forever grateful. But, look at 'im an' think about it! He can barely
function outside o' the paramaters that ye have set fer him! '

'He bae a good worker an' friend to ye, but his condition cannae improve
over time. It will only get worse as he gets older. '

The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit pondered Canicon's words thoughtfully,
offering no reply.

'He needs to bae with his own kind, lad! '' Canicon pleaded. ''He needs to
bae back with us in his village. The elders. They know how to take care of
him. Give 'im the best life he can have! '

The Vice-President of Humanoid Resources weighed the dwarf's words seriously
for several moments. After serious consideration, he conceded that Canicon
was right. Yarbles needed to be with his own kind. Ooof sighed and silenty
nodded his agreement to the dwarf, then turned his attention to Yarbles,
still frozen in uncertainty.

'He's right, Yarblez. Yuz did gud work every day. Yuz help Ixi-Mart lots
and lots. But now, yuz need to go with your brother Canny. Him and your
village need yuz. '

Yarbles's gaze briefly flashed between Ooof and Canicon, finally settling
upon his brother. He clapped happily, moving to his brother's side.

'Yuz can come back to Ixi-Mart whenever you want to visit, Yarbles. Yuz gud
friend. '

The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit paused for a moment, then turned to
address Canicon once again.

''Almost forgot. '' The hulking ogre reaching into his lapel pocket and
pulled out a tablet of paper and a pencil.




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sat Dec 13 13:34:45 2014

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

Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Six)


"Yuz see, '' the Vice-President continued. ''Yarblez has a sizable
amount of moneyz saved fer All his hard work. But, him nut really
understand moneys. First payday, Ooof give him blue diamond. He headbutt
it to pieces. Since then, Ooof put his money aside fer him, in special
account. Him not need money while him here though. We gives him good
meals, and a nice room in one of the underground floors of der tower. Nut
charge. So here. ''

The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit scrawled a message and a number on the
top sheet of the tablet. He then tore the page off and handed it to
Canicon.

'Take this up to Accounts Payable, on der 18th floor. They'll give yuz
every last silver Yarbles earned. Use for expenses for you and Yarbles and
your village. Just make sure yuz and der other dwarves take gud care of
him, yuh? '

Canicon accepted the paper and upon inspection, his eyes bugged out in
disbelief.

'Great Turpa's ghost! '' Canicon said, absolutely dumbfounded. ''How could
'e have earned All of this, in but a little more than a single year?! '

Ooof smiled softly. ''Ooof tells yuz. Yarblez great worker. Yuz and your
village should find a way to keep him working. He loves helpin out and
being a part of things. ''

Canicon blinked in amazement, still in shock over the sum of money his
brother had earned. Quickly composing himself, he replied.

'Aye, lad. Me an the boys will take great care o him. You've my word.
Come on, brother. Let's go home! '

Yarbles turned to Ooof once more, waving happily. ''Bye bye! '' with that,
he and his brother made their way towards the elevator.




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sat Dec 13 14:02:13 2014

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

Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Seven)


The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit waved as the two dwarves entered the
elevator cab and its doors slowly shut behind them. He turned to the now
empty workstation, laden with freshly dented steel neckguards. Some
distance behind the workstation, a single custodial worker swept quietly.

'Hey yuz! With der broom! Come over here, please. '

The nondescript man in blue coveralls gently leaned his broom against the
wall and approached the Vice-President cautiously.

'Yes, sir? '

'What's yer name? '

'My name? I-it's Feldi, sir. '

The hulking ogre grunted his understanding and continued. ''Feldi, Ooof
wunt see you make dented steel neckguard. Let's see what yuz can do. ''

'M-me? O-okay... '

Feldi stood in front of the table and reached into the crate to his left,
pulling out a brand new steel neckguard, and slowly placing it directly in
front of him. He rested his palms upon the tabletop and began to count
apprehensively.

'O-one..... T-two... '

The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit quickly placed his meaty palm over the
neckguard, interrupting Feldi's count.

'Hey, waitz! '' The hulking ogre interrupted. ''What the hell yuz doing?!
'

The bewildered and now slightly terrified custodian looked up at the
Vice-President blankly.

Ooof rolled his eyes in mind annoyance, tinged with amusement. He reached
into a cubby hole under the tabletop and pulled out a large, wooden mallet
with a rounded head. He thrust the mallet into Feldi's hand.

'There. Use dat. '

Feldi sighed and returned his gaze to the neckguard before him. He raised
the mallet high in the air, and brought it down across the side of the
neckguard with a loud, metallic clang. Ooof reached over and grabbed the
now dented neckguard and inspected it in the light. Satisfied, he placed it
down with the finished pieces on the right of the table.

'Congraturlations, yuz been promoted. I'll have HR start der paperwork. '

With that, the Vice-President turned on his heel and lumbered across the
production floor, back towards the elevator, leaving the former janitor to
stare after him in disbelief.




Writer: Ulrog

Date Sun Dec 14 00:34:39 2014




Writer: Deccan

Date Sun Dec 14 19:34:31 2014




Writer: Asyrlin
Date Sun Dec 14 21:49:34 2014




Writer: Asyrlin
Date Sun Dec 14 21:52:24 2014




Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Tue Dec 16 13:46:16 2014

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

Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Epi-Log)


'Nowwww, thazz whot ah callz a celbrashshnnn! '' Canicon slurred as he
threw the front door open and stumbled in his modest shack, Yarbles in tow.
''It bae good ta havve ye back, Brotstherrrr... '

The mentally challenged hill dwarf panned his gaze in bewilderment around
the crude shack, his mouth agape.

'I Yarbles! '

'Yer damMmmnnnnNnn risght ye are!! An' look at ye! A workin dwarf!!
Ahmmmm srooooo prood o yee! '

Yarbles looked on happily as the sublimely intoxicated dwarf collapsed into
a raggedy chair in the corner of the shack with a undignified thud.

'Tommmorrrwww, youan i aregonnNNnaaaa resshvvvmmsasmmm.... '

Yarbles stared blankly at his now unconscious brother, snoring loudy in the
chair before him. After several minutes, he turned his head, noticing the
front door was still wide open. He walked up to the door and pulled up in
front of it, leaning over to blow out the lantern sitting on a nearby table.
He turned to regard his brother once more, waving happily.

''Bye Bye! '' Yarbles shouted, then turned and scampered off into the
night.




Writer: Amex

Date Wed Dec 17 20:40:39 2014




Writer: Nathalos

Date Thu Dec 18 20:48:59 2014




Writer: Ashbie
Date Sun Dec 21 18:58:11 2014




Writer: Ulrog
Date Sun Dec 21 23:34:35 2014



 


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