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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

Footsteps - I
The Chronicles of Thesh Dridesh: Prelude
The Edge of Dawn (Part XI)
The Chronicles of Thesh Dridesh: Delivery of a Champion
Goodbye, dolphin.
"When time is gone..."
"... It's time to go..."
"... Where time is endless."
{{Entrepreneur Escapades}
A Warrior's Training
To Do List...part 1
A Quest for Firewood (Part One)
A Quest for Firewood (Part Two)
The War on War
Subtle Bluntness
Subtle Bluntness II
Subtle Bluntness III
Subtle Bluntness IV
Subtle Bluntness V
{{When A Pirate Be Bored: Part One}
{{When A Pirate Be Bored: Part Two}
{{When A Pirate Be Bored: Part Three}
{{When A Pirate Be Bored: Part Four}
{{When A Pirate Be Bored: Part Five - Final}
*A Lesson in Headbutts*
Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Four)
To Do List...part 2
One Ill Fated Night
Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Five)
Reshaping
Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Six)
Camaraenaus: Enchantress to Farm Girl..
Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Seven)
You can't train an ostrich. Pt. 1
Temples of Raije - A kenders path to Soldiering
Somnolence III
The Priestess: Inspirations [Part I]
Baptism
Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part One
Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Two
Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Three
Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Four
Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Five
Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Six
Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Seven
Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Eight
Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Nine
Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Ten
Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Eleven
Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Twelve
Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Final Part
Temples of Raije - A kenders path to Soldiering (2)
Trusting in the Path
Logistics of Murder - Keeping it in the Family (Part I)
Logistics of Murder - Keeping it in the Family (Part II)
Logistics of Murder - Keeping it in the Family (Part III)
Logistics of Murder - Hiding the Body
Rhaxx Rage, Ebony Student
Leaving the Pridelands
Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Eight)
|Bath of Dragon's Blood|
Time brings about All things
Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Nine)
Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Ten)
The Coming of the Lord of the Gullies
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part One)
Acceptance
A Caged Songbird - The First Verse
The ethos of war and humanity
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Two)
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Three)
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Four)
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Five)
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Six)
Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers I
Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers II
Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers III
Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers IV
Faltering Hourglass
Conflagration I
Conflagration II
Conflagration III
The Priestess: Visiting the Ruins
Conflagration IV
Primal Worship (I)
Primal Worship (II)
Primal Worship (III)
Primal Worship (IV)
Dark Dealings: Part One
Dark Dealings: Part Two
Dark Dealings: Part Three
Dark Dealings: Part Four
Dark Dealings: Part Five
Burn
Burn
Burn
Burn
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Seven)
Family Duty
the shrine of water
The Priestess: Finding Peace [Part I]
|Culling of the Shieldlands|
Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Eight)
Pirates in the Dark
|Hanging at Fortwall|
Storming the Keep
The Experiment
Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part One)
The Hammer
Teaching a lesson - Pacification of Wilderhaunt (Part I)
Teaching a lesson - Pacification of Wilderhaunt (Part II)
|Massacre at Mideel Port|
Nighttime Rescue
|The Scourge of Nigh'hold (I)|
Dark Dealings: Part Six
Dark Dealings: Part Seven
Dark Dealings: Part Eight
The Priestess: Finding Peace [Part II]
Dark Dealings: Part Nine
Dark Dealings: Part Ten
Dark Dealings: Part Eleven
(The Healing)
The Haunting of Verminasia: Echoes of the Past
Dark Dealings: Part Twelve
Dark Dealings: Part Thirteen





Writer: Raff
Date Sun Jun 15 00:26:37 2014

To All Althainia Imm RP Austinian Nadrik Siccara

Subject Footsteps - I



It wasn't exactly blackness. Darkness would not even describe it
properly. It was more of what you see out of one eye when you close it and
keep the other one open. It was more like seeing... Nothing. An absence
of both light and darkness, an irridescent grayness that was always
shifting, changing, phasing in and out. A formless void, shapless,
eternally popping in and out of existence, rising and decaying both
instantly and endlessly.

Then, a breath. The cold air stinging his lungs seemed to give life to the
world, the formless focusing in to well-defined lines and shapes, though no
less tumultuous in their motion. Exhaling, his breath seemed to shade the
world, rich and pale hues eddying about and fading back out.

Inhaling again, a stream of images fluttered through his mind, almost to
quickly to perceive, All flowing into one another, his mind struggling to
piece together the disjointed pictures. A splintering piece of timber with
the cold water of the sea lapping at it. A rusting band of iron digging
into someones wrist. Not his own, but somehow familiar. A crimson pool
spreading, seeping into the sand of a river bank. Exhaling, it All faded
back to the turbulent void. Despairing for the color to return, he scanned
his eyes wildly, but the scene did not change.

*tap tap tap*

He felt it on his shoulder, like the fingers of a large, soft land.
Swiveling around, he saw the deep red sliver of a horizon forming in the
void.

Then his eyes opened.

; He had had the dream many times before, almost nightly. But something was
different this time. As his waking mind took in his surroundings, he did
not feel the cold hardness of cobblestones upon his back, nor did he feel
the bitter night wind nor hear the howling of stray dogs prowling the
streets. Instead, they were replaced by warm, soft matress of a large cot
and the warm, dry, crackling air of a firelit room.




Writer: Lunez
Date Sun Jun 15 13:41:27 2014

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

Subject The Chronicles of Thesh Dridesh: Prelude



The wooden walkway creaked under his feet as he paced along the perimeter
of the slave pens. Even at this height above the pens, the size and
characteristics of the unfortunates below him could be seen with stark
detail and contrast from one another. Some sat in heaps like broken men, a
look of uncertainty pasted across their faces. Others fought with each
other like animals as the handler looked on approvingly beside Lunez as they
perused potential Elites-to-be.

"They bae ah fine lot, most o' em, true fighting spirits, surelae they cin
win ye ah prettae coin in th' Elite arena,
" the handler said aloud proudly.

Lunez looked the potentials over. They were varied from All sorts of
regions of the world and he couldn't help but wonder how these unfortunates
came to be under the ownership of the Del'nichi family. Most unfortunate
indeed, he thought to himself as he toiled over which one to elevate from
the filthy pens to give a fighting chance at freedom.

A gaunt yet fiercely muscular human towered amidst a crowd of other
fighters, clearly he was their pack leader. His face was strong and
possessed a sense of resolve that was impressive. Just as Lunez was about
to point to the man, another caught his eye. A hobgoblin man clad in rags
and various vermin bones tied around his neck, wrists and ankles. The
hobgoblin sat alone from the others, completely still, with eyes closed, and
legs crossed. Even in his meditative state, his head was held with a regal
pose.

"What of that one, the loner in the corner," asked Lunez.

The handler peered over at the goblinoid and just spat down into the pens.
"He bae ah pitiful excuse, he nay fights when we tell em to fight, he nay
eats when we tell em to eat, ahn he nay moves unless ye force em spear
point. Pitiful,
" spat the handler.

Lunez gazed upon the hobgoblin and asked, "Why do the others leave him be?"

The handler shrugged and picked at a scab on his elbow as he replied, "Ah
nay know, they jus' leave em bae, ah seem to recall ahn incident some time
back, nobodae talks to em since. Either way, nay ah worthy fighter, jus'
wastin' ye coin on em.
"

"Where did you acquire him?" asked Lunez.

"Caught betwine ah tribal war, his side lost, ahn th' victors sold em to the
Del'nichi but now these others, trulae fit for ah Sultan--
" He was cut off
abruptly as Lunez pointed to the hobgoblin and proclaimed, "That one. He's
the one I want. The Hobgoblin.
"

The handler wiped the spittle off his cheek and shrugs as he gestured
towards the other handlers down below to fetch the Sultan his pick. As
Lunez turned to leave, he caught the goblinoid looking up at him briefly but
was soon overshadowed by several handlers as they surrounded him with
chains.

It was a thoughtful ride back home to the Desert Jewel. The goblinoid, an
unlikely choice he thought to himself but he was not yet broken by the
entrance into slavery, and he had a mind still intact worthy of a being who
would earn his freedom.

"Let us see my new friend, what you're capable of," Lunez said aloud as a
hint of a dervish smile began its escape from the corners of his mouth.





Writer: Casiella

Date Sun Jun 15 19:33:11 2014




Writer: Syrieni

Date Sun Jun 15 20:22:15 2014




Writer: Ancaladar

Date Mon Jun 16 08:29:42 2014

To Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom All ( Nazca Imm )

Subject The Edge of Dawn (Part XI)


The elves watches as the puddle of light climbed the Priestess' back and
promptly disappeared into the base of her neck. Shifting his attention
momentarily, Ancaladar found Aelysse watching the spectacle, her jaw slack.
Fighting the powerful urge to attract her attention so that she may compose
herself, he turned back toward the Priestess and watched her intently for any
signs of change or trouble. He had some idea what was about to happen, but not
the manner in which it would occur.

Coughing lightly, Aelysse finally composed herself, addressing Ancaladar
directly, "Yes, I think it's that time." The Priestess was gazing around the
grove as if through new eyes. The Chieftan, for his part, did not seem to have
noticed anything at all; instead, he was sighing and shaking his head,
resigned to the unfavorable conclusion of the council. Ancaladar gestured
toward Aelysse and advised patience as the other elves looked on. "Are you
well?" he asked the Priestess, "You have gone quite silent." Her response came
in a much different form than they had grown accustomed to in the last few
moments. "Yes, thank you. Quite well." A small part of Ancaladar wanted throw
back his head in laughter at the sudden transformation from violent barbarian
to well-mannered diplomat.

They resumed the discussion in short order. All the while, the Priestess spoke
emotionlessly, little expression upon her face, and a blank look in her eyes.
Yet the Chieftan did not notice any of it. Ancaladar surmised that the
Chieftan had not been exposed to many things of magical nature in his time. If
he had noticed what was going on at all, he was probably dismissing it as
something to be expected. If that were the case, then Ancaladar's plan to keep
them blissfully ignorant of their third guest was going just as expected. The
discussion took a turn for the better, though Ancaladar's conscience nagged at
him. Had he intended to force either of them into submission, he would have
arranged for it himself. Instead, it seemed the spirit of the sword had taken
matters into its own hands, and displayed a frightening ability in the
process. Perhaps it was just that that frightened Ancaladar. He had
experienced its emotions and memories firsthand, and while the other elves had
thought the blade had taken control of his mind, he had merely been stunned
and confused by the information he was forced to process. He had never once
been controlled by the entity. At that moment he began to consider the
prospects of tossing the shards into the deepest trench they could find.

Outwardly he continued to observe the two as the discussion continued, even
going so far as to lean forward to show that his attention was entirely upon
them, though his inner debate continued. He was shaken from it when the two
stood and the Priestess ordered the Chieftan to ready his weapon. Ancaladar
pushed the debate into the back of his mind and rose to his feet, ready to
subdue the possessed priestess by force if necessary. The Chieftan picked up
his spear, and the Priestess her club. She wasted no time in tossing the club
straight into the pool, casting a spell upon it which caused it to decay and
dissolve. Ancaladar made an additional mental note not to drink the water from
the Nenya pool, alongside other elves swimming through it in the nude. The
Chieftan showed some reluctance, citing the history of his spear as a reason
for retaining his weapon, but reluctantly followed suit, flinging the spear
into the pool. "If it will end this war, I shall give peace instead to the
line of my sons from this day forward."

All of the elves present appeared relieved at the miraculous turn of the
events, but none moreso than Aelysse, who took the opportunity to announce it
by exhaling rather loudly. Ancaladar winced inwardly. Another surprise was
about to follow.

"The Tribe of Sylva requires something of Ruana."





Writer: Thesh

Date Mon Jun 16 08:42:40 2014

To All Lunez New_Thalos Randorf Azzure Marcaus Telthian Bodrum Imm

Subject The Chronicles of Thesh Dridesh: Delivery of a Champion



The visions flickered in and out of the hobgoblin's mind as he sat there
in a meditative stance. Numb to the world, his meditations were his solace
in which he could remember his family. It was generally a bad idea to
provoke him out of his stance, because to him it was akin to being torn from
his life mate and younglings... Again.

One vision after another gently caressed his mind. Memories of his family,
his tribe, his home. The tribe in which he was chieftain was renowned for
being so fierce that even tribes twice the size would leave them alone.
Suddenly a flash of white came, and he could see his wife. She was ghostly
white with her mouth wide open. As quickly as she appeared, she vanished in
another white light. Her death kept haunting him.

Thesh blinked his eyes open for a moment. He was alone, no one dared come
near him. The last being that tried was a huge bulky Minotaur. A cruel
smile curled on Thesh's lips as he remembered how the beast died: eyes
clawed and windpipe ripped out. It died gurgling trying to scream before
collapsing.

It was obvious that some of the fighters had been trained with weapons, and
with the weapons came rules. They were at a severe disadvantage. In
Thesh's tribe when you fight someone, there are no rules. Hands, spit,
claws, dirt, ice, sand... Anything is fair game.

"The hobgoblin, I want that one!"

The commotion didn't phase Thesh, there were plenty of hobgoblins in the
cages. He didn't realize the human was talking about THIS hobgoblin until
he found himself surrounded by handlers. This was a moment the handlers
obviously did not want. Thesh slowly reached for a hidden rock in his
clothing, and as the figures surrounded him he smashed the foot of one of
the handlers. Standing and spinning around, Thesh struck two more handlers,
one of which he shattered a mouthful of teeth. Suddenly Thesh was struck in
the back of the head and everything got thick and fuzzy. Stumbling around
Thesh swung wildly, not really connecting until he heard a punch connect to
a nose.

Side to side motions woke the hobgoblin as he was being carried from the
slave pens in Althainia. The goblinoid was shackled, but he struggled with
all his might. Not to resist, but to strike out against everyone. He
wanted to tear apart All of those that destroyed his home and had nearly
broken him. On the night of his capture, Thesh had killed more than 200 of
the invaders in his village. As he turned to look at his life-mate, he
watched her fall to an arrow and his spirit nearly broke. Several arrows
quickly struck Thesh, dropping him to his knees. That is when the fire
started, inside of him. He was unwilling to relent, unwilling to die. The
fire had started as a spark and quickly consumed him until he could only
hear one word:

"Revenge"

Thesh whispered the word in defiant rage, know it was what kept him strong
and unbroken. Shortly after, the carriage was securely locked and chained
in preparation of transport. One strong kick to the door revealed no
weakness, it was time to depart for his new home.




Writer: Rikam

Date Mon Jun 16 10:19:15 2014

To Verminasia All Swashbuckler RP

Subject Goodbye, dolphin.



"One thing I've always wondered about you lot.
When I give the call, is it always the same stupid
dolphin that comes to answer? Or is there some sort
loose confederation of stupid dolphins that takes
turns.

"'Hey, that Oneiroi boy's calling again. Who's up
for dealing with him?
'"

The dolphin whistles and chitterers up at Rikam, who
sits at the end of the harbor dock and shakes his head.

"Yeah, well. It's been a treat. Thanks for the
laughs, I guess. You'll give your mates a fond
goodbye for me?
"

Smiling, the dolphin makes a weird clicking noise
and bobs its head in the water. Rikam shrugs.

"Right. Well tell 'em I said something brilliant
and moving 'n All that.
"

After a short moment of silence, the dolphin sinks
beneath the water's surface. Rikam can see him
darting off in the opposite direction. He knows
he'll miss traveling through the water at such a
speed, but he doesn't want to think about it right
now.

In perfect silence Rikam rises up to his feet, hooks
his thumbs in his pockets, turns his back to the harbor,
and begins his walk home.




Writer: Elrei

Date Mon Jun 16 20:29:42 2014

To All Taliena Imm RP

Subject "When time is gone..."



The scent of roses was not uncommon at his balcony, overlooking the
garden as it did. Yet the strength of that scent seemed to pulse stronger,
filling his senses with the heady fragrance. Elrei harbored hope for
answers, or closure, but neither was forthcoming. A sweet voice,
disembodied but present regardless, spoke.

"My servant is still sad?"

Not a response to his words, his prayers of self-doubt, his questions
over the boundaries which had been set, or the discussions he had with
others - an admonishment. It did not strike him until later the oddity of
the phrase: his Goddess had never called him such, before. It was accurate
enough, but strange. If not by name, She might refer to him as Her child,
or by the title She had bestowed of Prophet, but this was the first time She
had ever called him Her servant. It set the tone for what followed.

"Should I not be saddened by All that has occurred?"

"My gift to this world is joy, happyness and love, those whom are of me
should find something to be happy about. Is my servant not content in doing
my work?
"

Admonishment, yes, and criticism for his personal feelings? Insinuation
that the troubles he had faced and the sadness he felt for not only his own
loss, but the loss of others, made him incapable. And then the implication
that he was at fault, that he was unwilling to do as She asked. Elrei was
speechless for a time. Had it been anyone else, Elrei would have been
enraged. But one does not claim offense from one's own deity.

"I must simply heal. As Leema said. I was banished from the one place I
had managed to feel comfortable within for many years. I saw problems, and
tried to fix them, but I am told it is not my place to do so. So I must
take the time and find my place again.
"

"You must heal. You have done All I have asked of you, my prophet. You
have done my works. It is now time to turn your sights other places. There
are indeed places where you may perform my works without being bothered,
where one such as you might find peace
"

Without being bothered? One such as him? Elrei was confused.




Writer: Elrei

Date Mon Jun 16 20:37:12 2014

To All Taliena Imm RP

Subject "... It's time to go..."



"Perhaps if you draw upon Leema's knowledge, she might guide you to
such a place.
"

"Leema wishes to guide me into the Gray. But the Gray is, by its nature,
apolitical. I was trained as a diplomat - what great influence can be had
to better the world without involvement in politics? To me, entering the
Gray seems akin to giving up on making change for the better in the nations
of the world.
"

"Then you must ask yourself, which are you, one whom is first and
foremost doing my work and my will within the world, or one whom is intent
on solving the ever cycling conflicts of the world?
"

Elrei nearly reeled. "I do not understand - I have long considered the
solving of conflict to be Your work, the encouragement of a compassionate
society.
"

"Perhaps there are other ways, though, my prophet. Yes, one may do my
work in such diplomatic stations, but perhaps it is time to change that
focus, to move from a larva into a butterfly.
"

It seemed a bit late in life, to be making a transition from larva-hood.
To have All that he had done, All that he had accomplished both for Her and
others, All that he had learned, compared to an immature, glutting insect...
Elrei had no words. Such a metamorphosis implied giving up All that he was
to become something unknown, to transform into something he could not, in
his present state, comprehend or perceive.

So he asked, for guidance. "What would you have me do, my Lady?"

"Be happy."

In the face of banishment, be happy. In the face of loss, be happy. In
the face of pain, be happy. In the face of confusion and self-doubt, be
happy. Disregard yourself, All that you are and All that made you this way,
and be happy.

About what?




Writer: Elrei

Date Mon Jun 16 20:42:23 2014

To All Taliena Imm RP

Subject "... Where time is endless."



He had received words of support from Her, following his denouncement
of Benthic. A week later, it seemed he was being chided for it. A month
later, after prayers seeking support and clarity, he is given no answer, no
closure, but told only to "be happy." An open, gaping wound, but he must
smile and go on about life as though All is well. His prayers and
concerns... Ignored? Unheard? No, they could not have gone unheard, not
by Her. Dismissed, then.

Elrei could understand if it was simply his own pain, his own suffering
and self-doubt which was deemed insignificant. But this pain was tied to
Althainia, the supposed Empire of the Light. Was that, too, insignificant?
Was the potential loss of that symbol, that banner, considered so minor as
the world moved toward the future that it was not worth mentioning?

He promised that he would "try to summon some amount of happiness," but
the task seemed impossible. No family to speak of, perhaps All of two
friends he might feel comfortable confiding in (though one of them living in
a place forbidden to him, now). No community, no sense of belonging. He
had enough money to keep his bookshop and miniature trade school from
closing for a bit, but the bulk of his wealth he had given to the same
nation which had barred him, claiming him a trouble-maker.

Would he find comfort in the Gray? Doubtful. They were largely absent,
and even more largely unappreciated. The things Elrei always thrived on
were community and appreciation for his efforts, and yet the Gray seemed to
lack both. Too much time alone to think inevitably lead to lingering on the
painful memories, the failures of his life. Yet this was the path he was
being guided down.

He had always respected the Gray Church, had always been careful to
acknowledge their life-long vow when a member had found their dedication
faltering and sought to gain citizenship in the Vallens. In recent years,
he had considered going there himself, but had thought of it as a sort of
retirement plan - a place to go when he was done with everything else. A
place to fade away within.

Maybe it was time.




Writer: Meryna

Date Tue Jun 17 01:58:26 2014

To All Verminasia - Imm RP

Subject {{Entrepreneur Escapades}


Schemes, Ryn had come to understand as she got older, did not always have
to be mean spirited at heart. Granted, what most not of the Evil Pantheon
considered mean spirited was simply a right hoot to the rest. In either
case, the announcement for the Second Annual Arcanium Chef Competition had
filled the young pirate with an utterly exciting thrill. The whole day she
had been filled with restless energy, her mind finally clicking over into
high gear. Ideas, good and bad, whizzed about through her thoughts and a
random passerby would often catch her mutter to herself as she mused this
idea and that.

Then, there had been the annoucement by the Queen of Verminasia, Liviya
Madaur of a Lightswane Festival. It promised to be an impressive affair - a
full day of storytelling, games of chance and skill, pageantry, good food,
music and much, much more. While wandering about, working on one of her
many ideas with the help of the Advisor Lovedaia, Ryn had been halted by the
Queen herself. And summarily "delegated" to help prepare and run the
celebration. Part of her wondered if it was a good idea. The other part of
her ended up hopping up and down in front of Queen, Advisor and Admiral
alike.

There was, of course, her own game of "Capture", the dice game perfect for
smaller groups at tables of good food and drink. After listening to the
simplest explanation the pirate could give, the Queen had approved. During
that same conversation, Ryn told the Queen about her plans to begin her own
line of food products: All based on pumpkin. After showing the menu to the
Queen, the two had been of accord that should the dishes meet with success
at the Competition, then a large order would be placed for the Festival.

Ryn could barely contain her absolute glee at the prospects.

After a quick bath, the young woman made her way to her most frequented
watering hole. Strolling along casually, her mind occupied with her
formulating schemes and plans, she almost tripped over the highland couple
having a discussion at the bar. In her favorite seat of All things.

She said her hellos to Devlin and Megan, without introducing herself, and
then made her way down to the very end of the bar. As she snuggled up
against the wall, spreading parchments out in front of her and bending to
work, she listened

The pair appeared to be discussing plans of some sort. Mentions of drinks,
and herbs, things that the two could sell together. These things were
shared between the two and Ryn smiled to herself. Schemes indeed, seemed to
be in every nook and cranny of Algoron. Eventually, the couple departed,
leaving Ryn to her work, she buckled down with focus ignoring the heavy pull
of her eyelids toward her cheeks.

Finally finished, the young woman smiled to herself and carefully tidied all
of her work. She tucked away the keeps and discarded what she no longer
needed, then got up. She tipped the bartender, though she hadn't had a
single drink, and whistled a tune as she departed.

Let the schemes commence.




Writer: Erutan

Date Tue Jun 17 09:23:08 2014




Writer: Ulrog

Date Tue Jun 17 21:51:58 2014

To All Grumf Raije Imm RP

Subject A Warrior's Training



Ulrog takes a huge swig of whiskey from his stein as he surveys the
forest. Sasquatches peek from behind trees, wary of the drunken dwarf
trampling through the forest. Ulrog makes no effort to be silent in his
stalking, sneaking didnt come easy for him sober, much less after drinking
his weight in whiskey. He stumbles through the forest, eventually tripping
over a log and tumbling down a large ravine. When his long fall ends, Ulrog
looks up to find a sasquatch gaping at the dirty, drunken dwarf in surprise.
With a incoherent roar, Ulrog leaps to his feet and charges the sasquatch,
brandishing a pair of axes. The sasquatch is not quick enough to avoid the
roaring wrecking ball sprinting towards him, and he is quickly felled under
the strength of the dwarfs blows. With every strike, Ulrogs arm grows more
sure, the haze of the alcohol strengthening his blows but making his dodges
less fluid. What the dwarf lacked in grace he made up for in fury, and the
sasquatch perished underneath the dirty, bloody dwarf. Ulrog gazes down at
the broken corpse below him and reaches again for his stein, taking an
enormous swig and smacking his lips, stumbling off to find his next kill.




Writer: Crystallis

Date Tue Jun 17 22:10:29 2014

To All Verminasia Calev Rikam

Subject To Do List...part 1


Crystallis Ryndyll descended a massive wending staircase, the expansive
tower was silent, no sound coming from any of her light, elven steps. The
dark elf had been in her observatory All morning enchanting. Her mind was
exhausted, she needed to rest. She decided to take a break from her
enchanting, but she still had much to do. The enchantress removed the hood
of her dark cloak as the stairway opened up into a large chamber, flipping
her long white hair over her back, her thick alabaster tresses falling to
her waist. Crystallis whispered softly, an Elvish incantation escaping from
her lips. Floating spheres began to illuminate across the room, their
soft-glow offering light to the massive chamber. The dimly-lit room was an
enormous library, its vast space filled with rows upon rows of wooden
shelves each one lined neatly with her vast collection of books, tomes, and
scrolls.

The enchantress entered her library, her graceful stride leading her with a
purpose to one of the many desks placed about the large chamber. Writing
utensils and crisp parchments lay upon each of the desks, always available
for use if needed by the library's guests. The dark elf gave a little
wiggle of her fingers, an animated quill with a long wispy black feather
began to scribble on the parchment. What came forth was her 'list of things
to do. ' Lately Crystallis had found herself to be incredibly busy. If she
wasn't enchanting, she was huddled away in a library somewhere writing
missives and researching ways to aid Verminasia's provinces, first the
county Sacnoth and now the baronies Atstlomme and Camaraenaus.

Atstlomme belonged to her ex-husband Baruch Nadiv, though their grandson
Calev Nadiv was its Baron and actual caretaker of the province. The barony
was known for its food- baked delicacies, salmon, and spreadable cheeses.
It was able to thrive in its area of Arkania; however, Atstlomme's finest
foods deserved to be shared with and enjoyed by the rest of the world.
Crystallis hoped to help her grandson with this. She needed come up with a
way to transport the food to the Dark Kingdom without it spoiling and going
bad. The breads could be baked in Verminasia, their fresh aroma would
attract many hungry customers. However the cheese and salmon would be a
different story, both would ruin very quickly if not kept cool on their trip
to Verminasia.

The enchantress already had an 'idea' that might work, but she would need
help from at least one other. The feathered quill moved to a blank
parchment, this time writing a missive as the dark elf looked over her list.
Crystallis had become close to several gnomes during her stay at Sacnoth,
working closely with them to see the county's cocoa trees prosper. There
was one gnome in particular whom Crystallis was almost certain would help He
was an older gnome and had retired from his duties, but the dark elf knew
where to find him. The quill continued to scratch out its message. The
enchantress wanted the gnome to help her build a box, but not just any box,
she needed something that could hold a constant temperature. She planned on
using magic cool the container, keeping its delicate contents fresh on their
journey. He would enjoy the challenge, the creativity, and use of magic.

Crystallis proofread the letter. Pleased with its contents, she sealed it
and set it aside to be delivered a little later. She picked up her quill
and dipped it into some ink, then scratched through the first line, moving
down on her list. Camaraenaus was next. She set the parchment back on the
table and took a deep breath. This task would be challenging, interesting,
and possibly dangerous. The Baron Picard-Oneiroi needed help with his
ostriches, but with this particular Baron, nothing was ever simple. The aid
he required involved Crystallis delving into something that she had always
considered risky and tried to avoid- potions and witchcraft. Only Rikam
would have a project for her that involved ostriches and witchcraft.




Writer: Crystallis

Date Tue Jun 17 22:10:56 2014




Writer: Ulrog

Date Tue Jun 17 22:52:55 2014

To All Grumf Raije Imm RP

Subject A Quest for Firewood (Part One)



Ulrog lies snoring in his bunk in the Baewar barracks. It is the wee
hours of the morning, and the dwarf is exhausted, hung over from a night in
the tavern with his fellow soldiers. The armsmaster of Baewar, a hulking
brute of a dwarf with bulging muscles and an absurdly large battleaxe,
marches over to the sleeping Ulrog and kicks his bunk over, dumping the
sputtering dwarf on the ground.

The armsmaster gets right in Ulrogs face, Wake up sleepin beauty, ye got work tae do!

Ulrog groans and stands upright, staring straight ahead and shouting his reply. Aye sar!

The armsmaster begins pacing in front of Ulrog. Ye have been in this army for how long, lad? Ah few weeks? Wot have ye done tae prove yerself?

Ulrog continues staring straight ahead. Nothin sar!

That bae correct. Ye bae ah poxy tit ahn ye know et. Ah have though of ah special task for ye. Even ah lumpy faced shite like ye should bae able tae handle et. The armsmaster grins wickedly.
The Baewar fires bae runnin low on some firewood, ahn ah know just where ye cin go tae fetch us some more.

Ulrogs mouth turns into a frown. Aye sar? Where bae that?

The hulking dwarf turns to gaze at Ulrog. The bloodae Temple of Zandreya in that twig city! They got trees everywhere, ann yer gonna bring us some kindling! Ah dunnae care how ye do et, but etll bae done or ah swear on mae axe ye will never bae ah rager!

Ulrog stares back, slack jawed. He cannot refuse, but he has no idea how to accomplish such a wild task without getting torn apart by the elven guards. Perhaps that was what the armsmaster had in mind, come to think of it.
It took a special kind of suicidal bravery to undergo rager training, and Ulrog had what it took. He overcomes his initial surprise and grins at the armsmaster. Et will bae done, sar!

See that et bae, lad. Come back with that firewood, or dunnae come back et all!




Writer: Ulrog

Date Tue Jun 17 22:56:38 2014

To All Grumf Raije Imm RP

Subject A Quest for Firewood (Part Two)



Ulrog stands a ways off from the Shalonesti gates, eying the guards
posted there and wondering how he will get past. He sees no way to sneak
inside, the guards would spot him immediately. Hearing a sound coming from
behind him, up the forest trail, he ducks behind a tree, peeking out to spot
a lone elf priest walking the path to the city, wearing a hooded robe.

Perfect, he thought, as he waited for the opportune moment. As the elf walks past, Ulrog leaps from his hiding place, landing on the elfs back and throwing them both to the ground in a pile.
Not wanting to rip the robes, the dwarf could not bring his axes to bear, so he struggled the bring his knee down on the twigs neck, and heard it break with a satisfying crack.

Stripping the dead elf of his robe, Ulrog puts it on. The robe falls long past his feet, and a large portion of fabric rests on the ground. With a curse, Ulrog gathers the folds of the robe and marches to a tree, slicing off two medium sized branches.

Chop chop, he murmurs as he works. He straps the two branches to his feet, and with a little practice, the dwarf is able to stand and walk. He cackles to himself as he throws the hood over his head and walk towards the gate.

Seeing the approaching figure in the cloak of a Zandreyan priest, the guards bow their heads and whisper a greeting. Well met, cousin.

Ulrog keeps his head low and grins to himself, continuing on the main road without saying a word. Finding his way to the temple was easy, as it lay only a pace or two off the main road.
With absurd ease, the disguised dwarf made his way up the temple steps using only a priestly robe and a pair of stilts.

Finding the fire pit, Ulrog began gathering up several bundles of tinder, lashing it to his back. Several groups of worshipping elves passed by during this time, but none paid any mind to the dwarf, assuming he was only there maintaining the fire.

After gathering what he needed, the dwarf cackled aloud, not remembering he was far from safe yet. An elven worshipper looked back at him, unable to see past his hood, but suspicious All the same. Who are you, cousin? the elf asks.

Ulrog doesnt turn around. Er, gotta go twiggae. Ah mean cousin! He stumbles haphazardly down the temple steps, unsteady on his feet going downhill in stilts.
The elf who questioned him runs out of the temple, yelling for guards, but the dwarf makes it outside the gates.
By the time the guards are alerted, the dwarf shed his stilts and was jogging back towards the mountain, a grin on his face and a bundle of twig firewood over his shoulder.




Writer: Demyan

Date Thu Jun 19 12:21:10 2014




Writer: Phadynos

Date Sat Jun 21 04:42:46 2014




Writer: Liviya

Date Mon Jun 23 16:17:14 2014

To Verminasia Abaddon Darkonin Shadow Bloodlust Marauders Grumf Necrucifer Raije All ( imm RP Religion Kyri )

Subject The War on War



A sneer crossed the face of the Verminasian Queen as she stood
within the Temple of Raije inside the Altar of Darkness.

The existence of this place had been a passing annoyance in the
past. Now, it filled her with rage, and as she gazed upon the
statue of the God of War standing within it, she wished with
great passion to be the one who had it broken into shards and
the chamber itself destroyed.

In calling for the battle for the Shard of Seanan, Raije had
proven to have no interest whatsoever in a fair fight-- unless,
of course, he had been stupid enough to believe that it would
be evenly matched, which was All the more reason to have no faith
in him.

In that battle, the Marauder Army, sworn to Raije, had gone so
far as to side with Good, and that was the metaphorical last
straw upon the camel of an already embarrassingly uneven fight.

This building was an Altar of Darkness. Raije was not of Darkness,
nor was he any friend to it. He did not deserve a place of honor
within a church of Evil.

So she penned a missive to her allies calling for its destruction,
forwarding it along to Raije's high priest as a courtesy. Within
minutes, he had addressed his own missive to the world attacking
her ego, and that stoked the fire within her ever higher.

The altar had been built in a different world. That much was plain
in the fact that a statuette of Malachive was part of Drakkara's
temple. Things had changed, and it was time that this holy place
become a true symbol of Dark unity.

Her hands curling into fists, she glared at the statue of Raije.
She would be back, and she would be wielding a hammer.




Writer: Rikkah

Date Mon Jun 23 20:38:33 2014

To All arkane Aphasian Salimari Lufio Zarina Azah Fynix (RP)

Subject Subtle Bluntness



She walked out the gate, leaving Arkane for a moment of quiet solitude,
her brain All crammed with thoughts. She needed more fresh air, less
people, less polite chatter, more dammit- thought. She hated to be this
way, to be thinking and not doing. The baby was forcing her to slow down,
hard to climb ropes round as the moon. No drinking, no wrestling, not much
exploring when waddling has become your new pace. Rikkah Burrbramble turned
into the forest. She needed to take a rest, again. She had hardly walked a
half kilometer. She could yet see Arkane in the far horizon. Whatever.

Stepping into the cool, shade of the forest, leaving the road she wandered
in deeper, watching the sunlight move through the motes, the dancing tufted
seeds, ebb and flow of earthy scent and fresh clean air. She found a rather
pleasant spot under a large tree, nestling between the roots and with legs
akimbo, she drifted into a deep sleep, exhaustion finally caressing her
down.

And she dreamed, she saw herself outside herself, as if watching third
person, or reading a book. Only she knew the outcome. She knew what was
going on. She felt certain that they had been had, outed, the play was
revealed.

She was playing a mad kender, wrapped up in a mummy like jacket, she had
little movement and was only required to moan and drool and occasionally
sling wicked taunts. The nobleman before her, dressed in expensive silk
brocade, a diamond pin placed at the collar of his ruffled shirt. The heist
was to dupe him out of five hundred blue diamonds. The sell was that they
were going to build a hostel for the afflicted kender. Only they presented
all false documents, land deeds. The paperwork had been carefully examined.
The nobleman was sympathetic to the plight of the kender nation.

Only after speaking with Lyrith, did the nobleman now seem nervous. Five
hundred blue diamonds is a lot of coin. Though Lyrith had acted well
enough, there was an energy, anxious, that the nobleman was losing control
over. He spoke without looking at either Lyr or Rikkah herself. She
hunched in her restraints, Lyr would let her out after they had the diamonds
in hand, after they set off in the humble carriage that brought them out
here to the noblemans estate. "I cannot in good faith contribute to your
cause without seeing the land first. If we do this then, I want to visit.
I want to see the contribution has been well worth my wealth.
"

The nobleman continued, "Very well, but you see I will not contribute then.
This
" He gestured to the ornate wooden box on the desk next to his side
blandly. Will stay with me and you can leave. I will call my steward. "
Lyr made one more plea, "I realize we do not have much in proof to offer,
just the papers and our plan, but look at her-
" He swung a hand out to
Rikkah and she did her best to be blank, stupid with shock. "Her kind need
a place to recover, to rebuild, sir. I beg your indulgence, let us begin to
heal, rather than wound once more.
"

The nobleman whirled, rounding on Lyr and the half-elf looked small compared
to the brawny nobleman. They knew he worked beside his men in the fields
and with the cattle, but suddenly his nervous energy made him aggressive,
like a cat backed into a corner.




Writer: Rikkah

Date Mon Jun 23 20:47:42 2014

To All arkane Aphasian Salimari Lufio Zarina Azah Fynix (RP)

Subject Subtle Bluntness II



"Do you presume that I do not care? That I am so callous or unmoved by
the plight of other races? By gods, you will feel my wrath. This whole
conversation has been about how the rich need to help the poor as if money
is the key to everything. Yet, this whole while you have left your
afflicted charge in a straight jacket, to drool All over herself, just what
may I ask is this hostel going to be like? Like that wretched Asylum the
dark elves keep?


Oops, they hadn't thought he would be that sympathetic. Rikkah snuck a
glance toward Lyr, his dark almond eyes caught her gaze and widened
slightly, as if to convey they needed to be very careful.

"My Lord, believe me, I would not have brought her if I thought it would
upset you. Our little Kosette is a unique case. I thought you would
appreciate seeing what your coin can contribute to. We would be able to
keep her fed and clothed and perhaps build an outdoor walking track to help
her exercise-
"

The nobleman flushed an angry red, "Exercise her? Like shes some sort of
pet? These are people, my dear sir. They have lives to live. They need
rehabilitation and society, not to be locked away from the rest of us
mortals!
"

Actually, Rikkah had never thought about it that way and she suddenly
giggled wondering if she was like a pet monkey to Lyrith. Dance monkey,
dance! And she did.

The nobleman turned towards her startled. She only slightly widened her
eyes and then gave a blank face once more. She had perhaps given a tell.
She prayed not, Kwainin, were only thieves!

The nobleman raked a hand through his hair, momentarily regaining his
composure, his stately power of presence. "I will give you this amount. It
sums to two-hundred fifty blue. In one months time I expect to travel to
the hostel and see the progress for myself, then I will give you the rest.
That is my only offer.
"

Lyr brightened and when he did, Rikkah realized they were All clear. That
in a moment her laughter had helped solidify the steal. The relief washed
over her and she squirmed slightly against the restraints. Lyr tossed her a
look that said, "Stop that. " She settled as they drew up documents that
would be destroyed later. What a waste of time.






Writer: Rikkah

Date Mon Jun 23 20:55:18 2014

To All arkane Aphasian Salimari Lufio Zarina Azah Fynix (RP)

Subject Subtle Bluntness III



They left the estate, pulled away from the manor home, the outbuildings,
the stables and barn. They had not been completely successful with the
take, but they werent coming home empty handed and they were still in the
black with the Master. Lyr laughed his rich warm humor as he unwound Rikkah
from the restraints. It would had been easier to do it out of the carriage
but they wanted to put as much distance between themselves and the prey as
possible. Lyr shook his head, dark eyes delighted with the wealth of their
take.

"We did good today, Rikkah, nevermind the work we put into it. We did
alright, the Master will be pleased. However did you know that your
laughter would dispel All that mans righteous indignation?
" She wanted to
answer, but at that moment she realized she was in her memories. That Lyrs
pale skin and dark eyes were a dream of what had been. She felt herself
being pulled out of the memory, felt her physical body stirring. No, she
wanted to stay, she wanted to feel again the thrill and Lyrs advice and
attention. She didnt want to leave, but she was. She slipped from dream to
reality, where your mind is unsettled and dazed from the otherworld.

Something woke her up and it wasnt anything in the forest. It was her own
body.

The build was low, contractions were like a great muscle inside her pulled
together, working independent from the rest of her body. It was like
suddenly part of her didnt behave correctly, or maybe it was doing exactly
what she knew it would have to do. She thought wildly, it was too early.
This shouldnt be happening now.

She fought to stay in control of her body and for a while worked against the
contractions, which hurt and made her think of vomiting. She was ill with
panic and floundering against the floor of the forest. She began to cry
after the last wracking contraction, but then rubbed her eyes. She wasnt
about to be frightened of this experience. She wouldnt cringe. She inhaled
deeply and let the breath go with a release of tension and the need to be in
charge. Let her body do what it needed to do and shed wonder over the rest
later. She took another breath and thought of the last time she saw Lyr,
before the guards had caught up with him. Before he had been beaten and
tortured and hung. She forgot the purple bloated image of bruises and cuts
and thought about the perfect blend of human and elf. The high cheekbones,
delicate chin and full lips, the lustrous dark eyes. He was her mentor and
she realized through another contraction that he had given what he could to
her and that had been a sort of love. She realized with a deep inhale that
she was never alone when she had been with Lyr, even though his break from
the Master had caused her break and his death. She was alone now.




Writer: Rikkah

Date Mon Jun 23 21:18:51 2014

To All arkane Aphasian Salimari Lufio Zarina Azah Fynix (RP)

Subject Subtle Bluntness IV



She cried out with the next contraction, her body was making quick work
of the birth, forcing her to curl against the trunk of the tree, bracing her
back, trying not to fight against the purpose of the contractions. Her next
thoughts were of pirates, of dark damp caverns that torchlight couldnt even
brighten, of working with the pistol, learning the angles and the aim,
working with sword, with whip to hone technique into something that would
make her a woman to be reckoned with, not just some silly kender lass.

The pirates adored her, little Moll. They taught her to tie knots, set
sails, check rigging. They taught her to drink and play and still be tough.
They taught her she could say anything and get away with it and slowly she
adapted language and culture into her own background, weaving thief with
pirate skills. She loved the freedom the ocean brought.

The rough bark, dug into her back and she struggled with a turrid wash of
fluid, raking at her leggings as the contractions pushed to expel the baby
inside her. Her thoughts became a jumble as she drew into herself again,
the pain something like a sensation of hard work and stress, a deep rippling
stress that caused her breath to escape her. Yet, she actually felt a
relief as her water broke, something was happening besides pain at least.

The physical overwhelming control her body had, loosed her mind to dwell on
other things and her mind was taking her back, a trip to the past for free
tonight. Skipping over conversations, people she knew, experiences and
disappointments, loves, like a compilation of private pictures for her
viewing. There was the Master, frown set upon his wide face. There was Lyr
with Betteny, practicing language and culture. There was Lufio, giving her
a challenging shove, a preclude to their matches of will and desire.
Aphasian, a teasing, playing smile over his lips. Zarina with hooded eyes,
passionate and dancing from exertion, Azah, his arm over the back of the
couch, relaxed power in the curve of his body. A tumble of faces she
thought well of. Arkane was so much more a home to her now.

She whimpered as her body compelled her to push, she set her legs on the
roots of the tree and gave a sharp yelp of discomfiture. The work made her
dizzy and ill and thrilled All in one moment. She grit her teeth and willed
herself to give up that last bit of control that would have made the
impossible possible.

Lyrs face as he screamed, Run Rikkah, get away from me. The Masters firm
set expression that Lyr would take the fall for the Guild this time. She
viewed the change from thief to pirate. The endurance as she attempted that
first swim across a larger expanse of wave and salt. Then she beheld a
glimpse of Lufios body as he turned toward her in bed. She heard the call
of a thousand mothers that had preceded her in this experience.

Push, push, breathe, push.

She let herself go, just let her body do the work intended and obeyed what
her body told her. It was early, but she trusted Kwainin knew best in these
things. So, she let go. And in a span of delirious, heady pain, there came
a feeble crying coughing noise. She brought it up to her chest, wiping
viscous fluid and blood from its small face. So fragile, so tiny, her
trembling fingers moved over mouth and nose. She half-laughed, wept with
liberation and triumph, used her cloak to wrap the very small being up. She
only partially registered that it was actually she, so numb from the shock
of birth and so tired, excited, yet exhausted.

The baby sputtered, shivered and Rikkah had seconds to wonder if they would
be alright where they were. They should move, but she couldnt. And then
there was a cramping spasm that stole the breath from her lungs and the
world around her went hazy as she clutched the precious bundle to her. Her
last moment of consciousness was that she should hold that baby tight,
because that tiny girl needed her.




Writer: Rikkah
Date Mon Jun 23 21:26:58 2014

To All arkane Aphasian Salimari Lufio Zarina Azah Fynix (RP)

Subject Subtle Bluntness V



Warm arms surrounded her, they held her firm in their embrace. She was
flooded with a sense of safety, a smell of home. She struggled for
consciousness, the eyelids wouldnt open. She felt awake but her body
wouldn't respond. She was trapped in the netherworld between wake and
sleep. There was an unexpected noise, familiar though. A cry, a noise of
need and helplessness and she was compelled to wrestle the cobwebs of sleep.
"Muh, mmmy babby? " Her voice was a hoarse whisper. Her eyes, heavy, hard
to open tried to gain focus.

"Rikkah, it's me Salimari, we.. We were out exploring and we found you.
Aphasian and Iwe're here. You're baby is beautiful andand really healthy!
" The bright tinkling of Salimaris voice sounded tinny in her ears.

She found herself with the two other kender. Salimari was prancing about,
with a huge smile over her face and Aphasian was holding the baby, silent
and concerned, yet an glint of delight in his sea green eyes. Suddenly her
surrounding stood at attention and she was more aware of the forest than she
had ever been. Her pulse sped up and she took in a deep breath, noticed the
blanket under her and another overtop, the fire that was slowing burning,
heat welcomed as her sore body complained for an instant at the sudden use.
She sat up found that she had been propped up with Fynixs pillow. Reaching
out she took a long drink from her decanter and noticed they had helped
clean her up. She thought about it and appreciated the attention.

When she could trust herself to speak, she said smally, "What now? " She
felt perfect, complete. Camp was set up, her friends were near. The baby
was well, if tiny.

Aphasian gestured to her chest and handed the baby over to her. Her arms
felt the lightness and life within her grasp and she smiled, deep blue eyes
lighting up.

"Alright, I think I git! " And she laughed with sparkling mirth, as
Salimari joining in.

Welcome to the world, Ruliah D. Burrbramble.




Writer: Meryna

Date Mon Jun 23 22:59:04 2014

To Verminasia All - Imm RP

Subject {{When A Pirate Be Bored: Part One}


The dagger dances about on the bar top in quick, sure motions. The tip
dove between spread, slender digits, burying into the varnished and scarred
wood before withdrawing and striking again between the next set. Over and
over, first left, then right, going back and forth the dagger flashed.
Then, suddenly it stopped and the cessation of the "tunk, tunk, tunk" of
alloy into wood drew the curious eyes of the bartender.

Meryna Segrave, Cricket, The Pumpkin Queen, Entrepreneur and Privateer,
Soldier of the Crimson Armada and pirate was bored.

Close by, a half drained goblet of mug sat warming, holding down a pile of
parchments. Missives, blue prints, clothing designs, food menus and other
assorted things were scattered about, some with liquor drops, others with
food stains. Each one had her hand writing on it in some way or another,
various doodles and lined designs showing off her more idle creative side.
Arcs and swirls littered the edges of the pages, along with the random
mathematical equation or a note of utterly random nonsense. Much of it had
happened in moments of wandering daydreaming, her mind wandering lazily this
way and that with no purpose.

The oneiroi had gotten her.

A faint smile tugged at her lips as she recalled bits and pieces of that
particular conversation with Admiral Rikam, more commonly known as Lullaby.

With a wide yawn, Ryn slipped her dagger back into its hidden place and
brought her fingers up to play with the charm that rested against her
breasts. Suspended by a beautiful strand of black and dark, shimmering blue
pearls, the small image of the raven was crafted out of fine jet, the eye
made from a perfect, small sapphire. It had been her second piece of
jewelry to craft, and it had not been cheap, or easy, but the finished
product was exquisite. The colors in particular were a stark contrast to
her reds, golds and other earthen colors, which made a beautifully enticing
contrast.

In particular, it reminded her of a certain warlock that had also gotten
her, but in a much better way.

Her right foot dropped from the support of the bar stool and started to
swing to and fro a few inches from the floor. Chin resting in her left
palm, she twirld the raven pendant and smiled dreamily to herself, her mind
drifting over the memories and fantasies of a young woman smitten. She only
wished Drew would finish up his training in the Bastille soon, because she
was very much looking forward to their promised dinner date.

Mind wandering off again, she yawned wide, her jaw cracking quietly from the
force of it. With a grimace and a rub to her poor joint, Ryn decided it was
time to do something. Standing up, she started to clean up the mess her
musings and dreamings had created, only to hear the sweetest sound of all.

"Hello, hello. "

Captain Claudette Picard-Oneiroi, otherwise known as Cap'n Dagger had the
sweetest and most perfect of timing.




Writer: Meryna

Date Mon Jun 23 23:11:26 2014

To Verminasia All - Imm RP

Subject {{When A Pirate Be Bored: Part Two}


"AHOY! Be 'bout time someone fun showed up! " Ryn greeted back, a grin
already forming on her lips.

"Oy! What is it then? You lot bored? "

That was a rather large understatement, Ryn thought.

"I am. Cin only work on blueprints so much an' e'eryone else got bit by the
borin' bug.
"

"Right! I got official orders for you then. "

The sweet budding of hope and her eagerness to be up to something, anything
brought a grin to her lips. Gathering up the rest of her things as quickly
as she could, she still made sure to tuck them away neatly, brushing off
what liquor and crumbs of food she was able to.

"Aye'n? "

"Right. Your orders is this: Set no less than two fires, and vandalize
something important. I expect a full report.
"

"Right-o! "

It was at that moment that a familiar throat clearing joined in on the
conversation. For a moment, she was grateful as carefree and wild laughter
spilled out around her, filling the lounge of the Royal Arms. She finished
off her rum and tossed some gold on the counter top, shrugging her pack up
around her body.

The Queen probably wouldn't like it if the mischief was done at home.

"An when I say full report, I mean BLOODY full. And it better not be in
Verminasia, neither, nor on my ship.
"

Already the gears were starting to turn in the young pirate's head. Pranks,
long passed up since she'd come of age, were flooding to the front, leaking
out of some creaky and halfheartedly closed gate within her mind. Her mind
started wandering to where, whom and how she could cause some sort of
mischief, and where a fire might be noticed - though not too quickly!

"O' course nay. I live 'ere. Nay be sullyin' me own bed, pardon me phrase.
"

And with that, Ryn was off like a shot from a cannon. Her hair whipped out
behind her as she rain gaily through the streets of Verminasia, a broad and
impish grin upon her features, laughter in her ever-changing eyes. As she
headed for the southern gate, she bypassed the Captain Picard-Oneiroi, but
she was so caught up in her musings and scheming and plotting that she
didn't even stop to salute or wave.

She knew just the place to start the first fire, and started to make her way
through Arkane, heading east.




Writer: Meryna

Date Mon Jun 23 23:36:57 2014

To Verminasia All - Imm RP

Subject {{When A Pirate Be Bored: Part Three}


Pirate sneakiness was not quite like assassin sneakiness. Especially
when when had flaming-gold hair and tended to wear white blouses and a red
coat. Or an equally bright and shimmering gown of orange. No, instead of
clinging to the shadows and furtively skirting around guards and passerbys,
Ryn simply strolled onto the grounds like she belonged there and practically
owned the place. Hands in her back pockets, she whistled a merry little
ditty aloud and wandered about looking at the various sculptures and trimmed
hedges until she found her way to the back of the glass mansion.

It was simply too perfect.

A recent pile of hedge clippings was being neatly piled up along with the
rakings from the immaculately kept lawn.

Swaying over, Ryn started flirting with the gardener tending the pile. The
poor young man had absolutely no idea what hit him as a beauty out of
legends started to fawn over him. She went with the sweet and innocent,
giggling, fluttering her lashes, using her favored country sweetheart
accent. He blushed and stammered, grinning boyishly and after a little
while, she started to fan herself, feigning the heat was "simply too much,
darling". As the gardener ran off to find her a glass of lemonade, Ryn
grinned wickedly and stooped down.

From out of her pocket, Ryn pulled a grenade. It was her first one, other
than the practice throw she'd gotten in the guild. All she knew was it
promised to be a helluva dozy once she got it set off. That and she needed
to be far, far away when it happened. Lighting the grenade, Ryn shoved it
in under the debris and took off as fast as her long, strong legs would
carry her.

Just as she reached the entrance of the grounds, she heard it - an ear
shattering KABOOM guaranteed to scare the living hell out of anyone within
the vicinity. The ground rumbled beneath her feet and then shouts were
going up in alarm, confusion, bits of panic. No one paid her any mind as
she put her hands back in her pockets, picked up her ditty where she left
off and strolled right off the grounds.

It was time to figure out where the next fire should be set and Ryn reckoned
it was high time to get a little bit of revenge in on some gnomes that had
given her a splitting headache a few days prior.

Setting off again, heading south of Arkane this time, the woman took her
time to stop by the Essence and have a bit to eat. While she settled down
to a plate of "sketti", eating elegantly despite her pirate attire - spoon
supporting the noodles as she twirled them around her fork - she smiled to
herself.

Yes, the evening was certainly starting to fill with a good bit of promise.




Writer: Meryna

Date Tue Jun 24 00:11:31 2014

To Verminasia All - Imm RP

Subject {{When A Pirate Be Bored: Part Four}


Wandering Oldest Ground Road, Ryn examined every shop, examining her best
bet for causing mischief. She strolled through the bath house, watching the
filter gears work through the water. It was promising, but the moisture in
the air would most certainly put a damper on things. Leaving there, she
continued wandering about and then finally climbed up into the Clockworks.

It was so beautifully ripe for chaos so felt tears of joy brimming in her
multi-colored eyes.

Looking around for a while, again using her pirate in-your-face brand of
sneakiness, she eventually located the center of the gears. As the massive
pieces of metals circled, whirred and spun, ticking and clonking endless to
do things she would probably never really understand, her mind worked in
similar fashion. She watched a while, then slipped three grenades from her
pockets.

With care not to be caught as other adventurers and people of note passed
by, Meryna placed All three of the grenades into a small pile in the center
of the main gear. Lighting them, she slid down to the road below and made
her way as quickly as possible out of the Factory.

She didn't quite make it this time, the loud, violent blast knocking her off
her feet and to the ground. She let out an "oomph" as her body slammed into
the dirt, leaving her a little breathless from the impact.

As smoke started to fill the air, gears shrieking, gnomes screaming and
shouting a mixture of horror and disbelief, Ryn groaned and flopped to her
back before sitting up. She gave her head a firm shake, climbing to her
feet and watched as gnomes either went running for cover or toward the
source of the chaos. Gears came tumbling down from above, smaller ones that
were going to be easily replaced, and she wondered if the large gear had
even suffered at all. She could just make out the flicker of flames
overhead, though gnomish contraptions and officers were already en route to
douse the fires and restore order.

Still, it was done, and Ryn felt a bit of pleasure at vengeance achieved.

All that was left was to defile something, and she knew just the thing to
sully. Turning about and exiting the factory, she followed the pathway back
toward the ruins of Balifore.

As she walked, rubbing her ribs as now and then they uttered a protest with
a sharp pang, she let her mind drift. It was only when she felt a sharp
pull on her hair that she realized she had the added weight of a rather
foul-smelling and ugly imp sitting upon her shoulder.

"Ahoy there, Kahlyn, " she greeted the imp, fishing a muffin from her pouch
to feed the wretched thing. He gobbled the sweet pumpkin treat with so much
eager relish she rather wondered if he tasted it at all.

"Reckon ye musta done somethin' wrong again. Guess ye cin swing with me a
bit. Bout to do somethin' right hilarious, " she told the imp.

In return, the beady little eyes stared back at her and a fanged grin
appeared.




Writer: Meryna

Date Tue Jun 24 00:46:48 2014

To Verminasia All - Imm RP

Subject {{When A Pirate Be Bored: Part Five - Final}


Funny things happen to imps when you feed them enough sugary items. By
the time she reached the statue, Kahlyn looked positively wretched. Well,
more wretched than the nasty bugger would normally look in his stinking
loin-cloth and his sallow, putrid skin. The gods knew she had bathed him
once. It had been a horribly, terrifying experience as she learned the
little thing could talk. Albeit it had been a screeching of such unbearable
harshness she now and then had trouble hearing out of her left ear, and the
words had been in a language she didn't understand, but he could talk. A
pity she couldn't imitate the notes or the syllables, because she was
certain the small demon had been cursing her something pretty.

It might explain All her recent bad luck with Chance Games like dice and
cards.

She'd lost so much money.

With a shrug, Ryn reached up and sat the imp down in front of the statue of
Malachive. He blinked up at her while she studied the alabaster figure,
reading the plaque beneath it. The very concept of the thing repelled her.
Which was ironic because she had run around a lot as a child saying she had
no need for gods, and they no need of her. While she figured the second
part of that was still true, the first definitely wasn't.

She rather admired both Mencius and Devion, connecting their respective
spheres at any chance she could to suit her own goals and philosophies.

A rather distressed noise came from near her feet and she looked down as the
imp grabbed his stomach. She grinned.

"Reckon I should o' mentioned... That were a prune muffin. Bad recipe,
that. Doesn' sell well, but damn it be right hilarious t'slip 'em in 'ere
an' there an' watch people run fer it.
"

The imp chattered angrily at her, but she just laughed and waved a
dismissive hand at the creature. She then pointed to the statue, giving
Kahlyn a wicked grin.

"Why don' ye go 'ave a seat on its head? Reckon it could use a new paint
job.
"

The imp stopped chittering, its beady little eyes narrowing as it considered
her suggestion. It made an odd noise, something she'd fail to describe
though it reminded her something of a turtle sneezing, and then was on top
of the statue in a blink.

She couldn't watch the rest.

While the imp did his thing to the statue, Meryna knelt down and dug through
her pack, finally producing a small, sealed can of paint. She popped the
lid and looked down inside, grinning at the obnoxious hot pink color. Now
that would make a kender proud.

When the imp was done doing his thing, the ensuing stench was wretch worthy,
and Meryna had to fight back a heavy heave of her gut. Gods, and she
thought she'd stank up a room when she was younger rolling around in the
streets. As quickly as possible, she threw the paint All over the statue
and used a long stick to write a message into the pink and green mess as it
started to dry and cake on.

O. R. B.
WITH LOVE - The Kender

Satisfied, grinning, she shoved her hands in pockets and wandered back home.
She had a report to write.




Writer: Demyan

Date Tue Jun 24 09:23:46 2014




Writer: Calvissus

Date Tue Jun 24 14:55:59 2014




Writer: Ashlen

Date Wed Jun 25 03:27:00 2014




Writer: Alessia

Date Wed Jun 25 20:38:11 2014




Writer: Ulrog

Date Wed Jun 25 23:14:06 2014

To All Grumf Julthax Raije Imm RP

Subject *A Lesson in Headbutts*


Ulrog wipes a trickle of blood off his forehead. The cut is small, but
every time the dwarf slams his head against the cave wall, he feels it
tearing larger. He normally spends a few hours out of every day alone in
the cavern, the only sound a series of dull thunks echoing from the walls.


Bloodae thieves, he thought. The kingdom must have awful security, the
crown jewels bae stolen ah few dozen times every day..

When the monotony gets too much for him, he comes to the cave. According to
his mentor, Julthax, this will end up strengthening his forehead for his
headbutts as a battlerager, but for now, its just turning it black, blue,
and bloody. He pushes past the pain though. He has his orders, and he
would be damned before he disobeys them.

SMACK!

Another charge, another burst of pain. He could feel the ridge of his
forehead beginning to swell and harden, but he did not know whether it was
becoming callous or it was just the massive size of his bruise.

THWACK!

He slams into the wall once more and plops on his rear, dazed and dizzy from
the punishment he put himself through. Struggling to his feet, he charges,
erratically, once more towards the wall, lowering his head and bashing it
with the base of his forehead, as Julthax had taught him.

BOOM!

- - -

- - -

When Ulrog wakes, he is lying on the cave floor, a small trickle of blood
crusted on his face, going down into his beard. With a groan, he pushes
himself up, determined to get the better of this wall before he returned to
do more work for Dredin. Inanimate object be damned, he would teach this
cave a lesson.




Writer: Jonathen

Date Thu Jun 26 10:26:52 2014




Writer: Nar'lin

Date Thu Jun 26 23:10:32 2014




Writer: Alessia

Date Fri Jun 27 06:28:26 2014




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Fri Jun 27 15:27:37 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Four)


The hardhat wearing gnome flinched at Furui's last statement, as if he
had been struck with a physical blow. The diminuitive man gave the gnome a
moment to gather his thoughts, then slowly returned to a standing position.
The gnome's gaze followed upward to match his.

"Alright. You have my undivided attention." , Thimtax forced the words out
irritably.

"Outstanding!" Furui quickly panned the courtyard, his gaze settling on a
gate to the east. "Now, come with me. We'll go out that way. Hardly
anyone seems to be over there. I've no desire to be bothered further."


Passing through gates 'G' and 'H' of the courtyard was an uncommon
occurrence. This quadrant of Mart-Town was not yet approved for
development. This was not to say, this quadrant was deserted by any means.
The 'Originals', those who settled around the tower site at the time of
groundbreaking, and in some cases, even earlier than that, were allowed to
stay in place, wherever that place might have been. The lion's share of the
Originals had settled the southern area leading up to the Tower, if for any
reason, for the sheer convenience. But scattered around the final quadrant
were a few small cottages and dwellings, and a smattering of people walking
about, though there were no shops or merchants to be seen.

Furui strode briskly through gate 'G', and into the yet-to-be-named road
beyond it. The hardhat wearing gnome has little choice but to trot after
him, just to keep up. He noticed a burlap sack slung over the unassuming
man's shoulder as he did so. Catching up to the man, he spoke anxiously.

"Well? Let's hear it. Tell me why I can't claim my tower to be perfect?
And what more, tell me how -you're- going to make it so I can?"


Maintaining his brisk pace, he answered almost immediately. "Think about
it, friend."
Furui's words now took on an uncharacteristically familiar
tone. "How does a sculptor determine his work is perfect? How does a
gemcutter know when he has created the perfect gem?"
Without stopping, the
man turned his head towards Thimtax. "They can, because they can examine
their work from every angle. They scrutinize their work, seeking out any
possible defects or flaws. They get eye to eye with their work,
scrutinizing its surface for any signs of imperfection. You, do not have
that capability."


"Well, that may be, good sir, but we have many mathematical and geometric
formulae which tell us specifically wh-"


Furui stopped the hardhat wearing gnome's words with his annoyed retort.
"And you're willing to trust your formulae and your equations, to be able to
claim perfection for your tower? This tower, that your god has granted you
the ability to create?"


Thimtax flinched as if he had just been slapped in the face. How could he
possibly know about that? The only one he had mentioned that fact to was
the Chairman, and he could not see the Ixi and Ol' Brassy socializing. Not
even a little. Once again, Furui had him pegged. Perhaps this was simply
another example of the superior minds of the dragon race. The two reached
the outer gate and strode out onto the meadow, towards the direction of
Momiji's Field.

"Well?" Furui spoke coyly. "Aren't you going to ask me something?"

Thimtax seethed inside. Furui just couldn't make this easy on him.
Trembling, he finally forced his question through his teeth.

"Very well. And just how in the blue abyss are -you- planning on helping
me?"


Furui flashed a wide smile and stopped, causing to gnome to move several
steps forward in his haste before realizing the man had stopped. He turned
around in time to see the final stages of his transformation back into
dragon form. The burlap sack now dangled from his maws.

"Here. You're a resourceful fellow," Ol' Brassy shook his head gently,
causing the content of the sack to drop to the ground. "Figure out how to
put thessse thingsss on me. I've never taken a rider before."





Writer: Crystallis

Date Fri Jun 27 19:51:35 2014

To All Verminasia Rikam Drew Calev Drakkara Imm rp

Subject To Do List...part 2


Crystallis left her 'to do list' on her desk as she began walking through
different aisles in her library, randomly scanning over the books and tomes
lining the shelves. The second thing on her list was her task at
Camaraenaus, which consisted of ostriches and witchcraft. Two things she
knew very little about. Yet, Baron Picard-Oneiroi did a very good job of
convincing her that she was an expert on both subjects. Now here she was
roaming through her library, searching for anything that may aid her in
learning the affects of potions on ostriches.

The enchantress scanned through several books as she walked amongst the many
shelves lining the massive chamber. The ones she liked, she released to
float next to her and follow her throughout the library. The books she did
not need were carefully returned to the shelves as she continued on with her
search. After several minutes of searching, the dark elf decided she had
enough material to look over and walked back to her desk.

She didn't feel like she would need to dig too deeply into her research.
The Baron's son, a skilled warlock and academic, would be taking over the
project and Crystallis would be there to assist. The enchantress was able
to breath a bit easier now, the dark elf was relieved that an actual warlock
and ostrich expert would be leading the way. The thought of brewing potions
and their often unpredictable results made her more than a tad nervous. She
would happily step aside and assist, while perhaps learning a little more
about and to also better respect the art of witchcraft.

Crystallis nestled cozily into her chair and opened up a book, her manicured
fingertip trailed along the words as she skimmed over the pages. She would
be visiting the barony soon, and therefore meeting the ostriches. Drew had
suggested they work with the more docile ostriches, and Crystallis could not
agree more. The enchantress, not wanting to be bitten or kicked, was more
than happy to begin by working with the ones who were a bit more calm.
Being a cautious mage, Crystallis was determined to do some research before
she departed for the barony. The dark elf scanned over the pages hoping to
expand her knowledge on the flightless bird, so far she knew they could be
quite large, quick, and short-tempered, and she and Drew were going to
enhance them with witchcraft, while somehow controlling the results. The
enchantress took a deep breath. This would be fun.

'Mistress..? ', came a soft Elvish whisper from behind Crystallis. The
dark elf closed her book and placed it back on her desk. It was several
hours later. She must have dozed off while reading, not hearing the young
servant approach her. 'There is a package here for you. ', the maiden
continued with a smile, holding the parcel out before the enchantress. The
dark elf's emerald eyes widened, sparkling with sudden excitement, 'Thank
you, my dear.. You are excused.
', she replied in Elvish, accepting the
package from the elven girl's hands. It was already here. The gnome had
finished it quickly. It was the container she needed to transport her
grandson's food from Atstlomme, a smaller version at least. Crystallis did
not want to take a chance in ruining a large shipment of Calev's wares, so
she would transport a smaller amount on her first trip. She needed to make
sure this would work, that it would keep the food cool. It had to, it was
her only idea.

Crystallis set the package aside and drew a line threw Camaraenaus on her
list. She was tired of reading about ostriches. While she could normally
spend days huddled away in her library reading about the most random of
subjects, she felt like she would learn a lot more about the birds when she
actually visited the barony. The dark elf looked down at her list of things
to do. The next was a donation of utmost importance- to the construction of
a massive monastery of Drakkara.




Writer: Amyth'lynn

Date Sat Jun 28 12:20:55 2014




Writer: Eszka

Date Mon Jun 30 13:20:13 2014

To All Arkane Fynix Zarina Aphasian Letholdus (rp)

Subject One Ill Fated Night



She fought against the remainders of memory and time. Her body curling
into itself, wings pressed tightly against her. Her father speaking in low
words to her mother, a breath -

"Ma Misa -" More whispered words, the fire was crawling up their tree. How
could this happen? They were worshiped. The link between god and earth. A
villager's scream, she covered her ears. Her father grabbed her roughly by
the arm.

Little love, tremisa, do not forget what I have taught you," he spoke
sternly, his dark eyes moving to the front of their roost, the home that had
been theirs for All the fourteen years she knew. He looked at her with such
a loving grace.

"Dont leave me, ma Pera, what did you tell Mother? " She didnt have time to
even swallow, he left her and her mother, a dark backward glance and then -
gone.

"Marmie, whats going on? " She pleaded with her mother. But the Lady of
Dawn and Dusk would not answer her, instead she shoved things into a ruck
pack and tossed it to Eszka.

"You cannot question things now, Essie, take the pack and run to Haven.
Kalamethe la eth ma muel.
" Things are happening beyond what we control.
Those words haunted her. Her language a private hell of sounds and nuances
the world forgot.

Her mother pushed her towards the open back of their roost, their home. She
tried to beg over the sound of weapons and screams, the flashing crackling
sounds of the blaze. But her mother was adamant, it depended on their race,
she must go.

A little wounded, a little blind faith, Eszka fell from her nest to the
floor of forest, loam cushioning her landing. With rucksack she half
fluttered and ran through the dense, lush tropics All the way to Haven.

Dont leave me, Marmie, Pera. They never met up with her and when she
finally screwed up enough courage to go back, the village was gone. There
was nothing left, but burnt out huts and their tree, their roost was little
more than a charred steeple. An effigy of horrific decimation to a people
she would never be part of again. Fourteen and orphaned, Eszka set off back
to Haven and tried to find her place in a world.




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Mon Jun 30 14:41:10 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Five)


"Hey, Ixi. Why we nut stop here? Get food. Ooof hungry."

The ogre in the grey pinstriped suit gazed hungrily towards the kitchen area
from the bottom of the stairwell leading up to the 86th floor of the tower.
The entire floor was immaculate. Stainless steel counters and cabinets
lined the pristine kitchen. The remainder of the floor was a sea of tables,
chairs, and trash receptacles. The light of the early morning sun shining
through the eastern windows cast the cafeteria in a pinkish hue.

"Sorry, my friend. But none of these cafeteria will be stocked with food
until it is time to move everyone in. But when the tower is complete, we'll
have this cafeteria here, and one on floors 25, 45, and 65. Also, I'm
considering allowing a small number of food vendors to operate within the
courtyard area as well, provided they operate to our standards."


Ooof sniffed disdainfully, still looking back towards the empty kitchen.

"Well, fergive Ooof fer thinkin caf... Caferteria... Should gave food in
it."


"Come on, Ooof!" Ixi'kweez called from the top of the stairwell. "Forget
about that! You have to see what's up here!"




The ogre in the grey pinstriped suit crested the stairwell, and glanced
about the 86th floor. Upon first glance, it appeared to be empty. Then,
taking a step onto the floor itself, the ogre noticed that the entire floor
was covered in about three inches of ivory white sand. Further inspecting
his surroundings, he spotted several sparring dummies spread about, poised
in various offensive and defensive positions.

"Isn't is perfect!? Our very own duelling arena! I bet you weren't
expecting -this-, now were you?"

"It's just fer fightin?" The ogre seemed less than impressed. There
wasn't a lot of fighting at Ixi-Mart. In fact, the only one that did any
fighting at All at Ixi-Mart, was the Chairman. "You had a whole floor set
aside, just fer a duelling arena?"


"RRAAWWWRRRR!!!"

The Chairman bounded across the room effortlessly, drawing his blades and
cutting a cloth dummy to ribbons. He reached into the dummy's chest and
pulled out a little cloth heart, raising it victoriously over his head.

Ooof sighed and rolled his eyes at the Chairman's antics. "Let's get out of
here, Ixi. Ooof hungry. We're at the top anyway."


"Oh, but don't you want to go up top? The view is incredible! It would be
a shame to come so far, and not check it out!"


"Nut know, Ixi..." The ogre said apprehensively, "You think Thimtax wants
us up there?"


"Of -course- I think he wants us up there!" The Chairman answered
emphatically, without giving it a second's worth of thought, "Come on, Ooof!
Let's gaze upon the entire continent together! Now, how many ogres can say
they've done that from this high up?"





Writer: Calvissus

Date Tue Jul 1 12:51:36 2014




Writer: Calvissus

Date Tue Jul 1 12:51:46 2014




Writer: Amyth'lynn

Date Tue Jul 1 14:13:19 2014




Writer: Barakiel

Date Tue Jul 1 16:36:14 2014




Writer: Erebaal

Date Thu Jul 3 15:30:44 2014

To Chaos All ( Immortal Religion Malachive Scorn )

Subject Reshaping


The forge-fires of the Warp burned hot. Laboring acolytes tended the
flames with a manic intensity, spurred to action by the baleful presence of
the butcher in their midst, a hungry predator who loomed over the other
souls in the vast chamber in his imposing mail. He had little part to play
in the grand construction taking place in the room, save as its architect
and recipient of its result. So invested was the brutish figure that he did
not hesitate to smash a flagging tender aside and take his place at the
bellows, straining with growls of exertion to keep the flames roaring and
hot.

The greatest smiths of the chaotic enclave toiled relentlessly, aware all
too keenly of the gaze upon them. Of the forces of Chaos arrayed across
Algoron, they were the best bladesmiths short of the hand of the Everchosen
himself- the task before them just menial enough that the Word Bearer did
not call for the chosen hand of Malachive to undertake it. One sweating
figure took up the tongs and withdrew the searing metal from the heart of
the cackling flame, the metal cherry red and shimmering with more than mere
heat. The malicious presence of its wielder almost seemed to awaken a
latent sense of dread in the arcanium as well

The old maker's mark of the dwarf-king who created the original template was
obliterated, an etched star of eight replacing the seal. Likewise, the old
double-headed design was no more, the twin heads being reshaped with
painstaking care over the course of hours into a single face, flat and
viciously hooked. The curved haft of the weapon had already been
laboriously prepared, carved of the heartwood of a great vallenwood tree at
great effort- a secret sojourn into the elves' sacred forest that left
behind a scene of misery and desecration. The wooden haft had been treated
with a blood-laden oil, an unguent applied over murmuring voices whispering
blasphemous supplications, fresh sacrifices taken in to be bled dry by the
hour as each surface was meticulously tended to, coated several times until
the great wooden pole was lacquered and ready for the ornamentation that
would make it an instrument of war.

The acolyte smiths carried the glowing bearded axe-head to the quenching
barrel, the oil also mixed with the blood of the lunar gods' faithful,
desecrated corpses of the False Pantheon's calling exsanguinated to mix with
the cooling agent to properly instil the spirit of creation the Word Bearer
demanded of his new weapon. It was to be as he was, blood-drenched and
forever hungry, a construction of unending violence and un-satisfiable
destruction. It was to be a worthy successor to his former weapon, the
inhumanly-large companion that now stood vigil in the corner of the tiny
crypt in which he once lay.

With tremulous hands, the crafters began to affix the axe's head to the
haft, apprentices bringing mallets to the fore to drive the new bolts
through the haft and secure the enormous axe-head in place. One clumsy
mis-timed his strike and the hammer blow fell clumsily, skating off of the
surface of the cooling axe-head. A blood-colored blur caught him in the
throat and he collapsed upon himself, aspirating blood as his eyes glazed
over. The Word Bearer did not even spare him a second glance but instead
focused upon the other robed souls working for his ends. It was to be their
finest creation, and there was no room for failure.

Not an hour later, the axe-head secured and the haft wrapped in leather for
his convenience, the Word Bearer stood in the Tropican heat with his new
weapon. Length-wise, it was a half-hand taller than he was, with an axe
head longer than from the top of his head to the middle of his breast. He
could feel the malice surging through the desecrated weapon, and his gloved
hand tightened its grip on the newly-formed haft. It was time to baptize
his new companion.




Writer: Rikam

Date Thu Jul 3 21:29:36 2014




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Fri Jul 4 16:04:32 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Six)


"Weeeeeeeeeeee!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!"

The massive brass dragon craned his head back towards the gleeful gnome, as
he flew a lazy circle around the tower and the surrounding countryside. Ol'
Brassy's visage was one of half annoyance, half amusement.

"Mussst you sssqueal like that? You act asss if you've never ridden one of
the Firssstborne before."


"I -haven't- ever ridden a Firstborne before! What in the world would've
given you that impressioohmygodthisissoamazingWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"


Ol' Brassy shook his gigantic head and returned his gaze forward. There was
hardly a cloud in the sky this morning, the sun shining brightly from the
east. There were no unusual wind currents to worry about. It was the
perfect day for flight. A slight movement caught the dragon's eye, and he
shifted his focus towards the tower. Scrutinizing the upper tower, he could
make out two figures. One was clearly the Chairman. The other, larger
figure, Ol' Brassy did not recognize.

"Clearly, you need to get All thisss excitement out of your sssyssstem, so
perhapsss we ssshould have a bit of fun firssst."


"Fun!? Howcouldyoupossiblythinkthisisn'tfun!?" Thimtax piped up, still
feeling the adrenalin rush from his first flight.

Sighing, the dragon continued. "The Ixi'kweez is near the top of the tower.
Perhapsss one or two floorsss from the top. He hasss a large humanoid thing
accompanying him."


Thimtax squinted in the direction of the tower, but his eyes were no match
for Ol' Brassy's. From this distance, he couldnt see anything inside.
"I'll have to take your word for it. If that's Ixi, and I'm sure it is,
then that must be Ooof with him. Ixi's probably taking him to the very top,
to show him the view."


"Yesss, of courssse..." The dragon mused out loud. "That harnessssss you
put on me. You've got it on nice and tight, yesss?"


"Oh sure..." Thimtax replied coolly. "You'd sooner shake one of your own
scales off before this thing comes loose!"


"Yesss, I had expected asss much. Let usss meet the Ixi'kweez and the Ooof
thing at the top, and sssay 'Hello'."





Writer: Atarvarno

Date Sat Jul 5 12:49:03 2014




Writer: Crystallis

Date Sat Jul 5 22:01:01 2014

To All Verminasia Rikam Drew Imm rp

Subject Camaraenaus: Enchantress to Farm Girl..


Crystallis stood in front of a full-length mirror in the bedroom of her
home outside of New Thalos. The dark elf barely recognized herself, dressed
in an attire completely unfamiliar to her. The reflection cast back at her
was not the high elf enchantress she was used to seeing, but instead the
image of farmgirl ready to begin the day's work.

Custom-tailored clothing had arrived to her home just this morning along
with its seamstress who had been busy All day taking in a little fabric here
and letting out a little more there, ensuring the Mistress of the manor was
satisfied with product of her well-spent money. The dark elf needed the new
clothing. The enchantress had closets full of the finest clothes- dainty
dresses, rich robes, courtly gowns, and elegant cloaks, not a single item
could be worn on a ranch full of massive, unpredictable ostriches.

The dark elf had her new maiden, a wild elf she had become very close to,
bring in another mirror so she could better examine herself from All angles.
She wore a cottony shirt, dyed a light shade of purple, its material was
light and airy, willowy against her full-feminine frame. Its sleeves
slinked their way down to her wrists, protecting her slender arms. She had
requested that All of her shirts be made with long sleeves, terrified of
what the harsh sun and taloned livestock would do to her delicate, unmarred
skin.

The shirt tucked into a pair of tan cloth pants, the waist adorned by a dark
brown leather belt. The pants were a perfect fit, contoured to her shape as
they disappeared into dark brown leather boots that rose to mid-calf. The
enchantress smoothed her hands over her hips as she continued to examine
herself and the seamstress' handiwork. 'Are they supposed to fit like
this..?
', she questioned her maiden, 'Do they make my hips look too
big..? I've never worn -pants- before..
', she continued in Elvish with a
sarcastic smirk. The maiden laughed softly as she shuffled with the mirror,
trying to keep up with her Mistress' twists and turns, 'You do know,
M'lady..
', she replied in Elvish, speaking in a modest tone, 'That you
will be covered in dirt.. Sweat.. And possibly ostrich manure..
', she
laughed softly, 'I do not know that it really matters. '

Crystallis sighed at her image with a slight pout as she placed an indigo
sun hat on top of her head. The hat was large, floppy, and a loud bright
color- everything she expected considering she bought it from the Rikam's
shop. The hat covered her pointed ears and thick alabaster hair, its wide
brim would do well at shading her from the sun. She adjusted the hat on her
head, still posing in her farm attire, 'I am hoping that Drew will do most
of the 'dirty' work..
', she laughed softly as she thought of the scholarly
warlock, spending his free time in different libraries around Algoron,
'but.. We will see. '




Writer: Syrieni

Date Sat Jul 5 23:03:40 2014




Writer: Rhowena

Date Sun Jul 6 02:35:31 2014




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sun Jul 6 12:14:53 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Seven)


Ooof crested the stairwell and walked into the open air, which would
eventually become the 87th floor of the Ixi-Mart Tower. He could see
nothing but the azure morning sky All around him. Not a cloud was in sight.
Being at the center of the floor, the world below was still blocked from the
ogre's view. He found the experience exhilirating, as well as a bit
disconcerting. He slowly lumbered over towards the Chairman, who was
leaning forward on the lower half of the northern part of the wall, which
had been built the day before.

"So, old friend," the Chairman spoke pleasantly, keeping his eyes focused
on giant mountain to the north. "Did you ever think you would witness such
a great view of Thaxanos? Isn't it magnificent?"


The ogre in the grey pinstriped suit pulled a pair of tiny round spectacles
from his lapel, and forced them onto his massive head, peering out over the
northern countryside. Ooof grunted his approval quietly.

"And over here..." The Chairman shouted, already running towards the
eastern part of the tower, "You can see the Vallens! The whole damn
forest!"


The ogre shook his head in mild amusement, and made his way over towards the
Chairman. He rested his elbows on the wall next to the Chairman, and gazed
out over Shalonesti's seemingly limitless forest.

"Shalonesti's Festival of the Stars will be in a couple of weeks. The
entire city and forest will be just full of wonderful lights and sounds.
Why, I bet at night, from up here, you can see All th-"


-WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH- "WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!"

The two board members dove to the floor in abject terror, as the huge brass
dragon broke the plane of the roof and careened stright upward, not ten feet
from where they were standing. Ol' Brassy pulled up about fifty feet above
them and hovered above them menacingly.

"HIIXI!!!! HIOOOF!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!"

With that, the huge, brass dragon bellowed triumphantly and lunged forward,
continuing its breakneck pace towards the west, screaming hardhat wearing
gnome in tow.

"What in the blue abyss?! Was.. Was that Thimtax?!" The Chairman managed
to gasp out in short breaths.

He turned to the ogre in the grey pinstriped suit, who was in turn giving
the Chairman the evil eye, and offering no reply whatsoever. Ixi'kweez
looked towards the sky where Ol' Brassy and Thimtax had just been, and
looked back to Ooof again.

"Oh, no! Absolutely not! You're not blaming this one on me!"




Writer: Drew

Date Sun Jul 6 13:04:39 2014

To All Rikam Crystallis Verminasia imm rp

Subject You can't train an ostrich. Pt. 1



Camaraenaus Ranch -

Drew, "Three", Picard-Oneiroi sat on the fencing surrounding a pen of his
father's ostriches with one leg dangling freely and the other perched on the
mid-level cross-beam. Glasses, whip, and leathers were exchanged for
clothing that wouldn't be so difficult to clean or repair. Altogether he
looked every part the rancher, wearing a off white cotton shirt he tucked
into a common everyday pair of dirt brown pants which were held up by an
ostrich shapped brass buckle. To his father's great disappointment he took
out of inventory a regular old straw hat.

Out in the distance near the front gate a carriage stopped, letting out Miss
Ryndyll. What little he knew about her came from his father's
recollections, plus a few quick conversations. She'd been around a while
though that was always hard to know without being told when it came to
elves. A self proclaimed 'helper' she certainly was agreeable enough to
work with on this project, some nonsense about war bird breeding, but then
again stranger things had happened.

Miss Ryndyll appeared to have an inclination to purple, Drew thought, as he
went out to greet the woman. She didn't do All too bad for preparing
though, and so he gave her a tour, introduced her to the big chickens, and
went over some basic notes of observation.

Note 1 - Ostriches are not smart, and can't be trained to do anything of
complexity, and not much of anything even simple.

Note 2 - They are fast, they have excellent health for birds. Drew'd never
seen one so much as catch a sniffle.

Note 3 - They only take a year to reach their adult size.

Of course there are more to them than those few simple basics, but those
seemed to be the important points.

Then the time came to meet the devils. Though most birds are curious, the
ostriches were given a double dose of it. Immediately they began to inspect
this stranger in purple with her Rikam trademark hat. (something hopefully
Drew could get a commission on later). He offered the farm girl convert a
small fist full of feed and she quickly made some new friends though at the
prices of a few pinches to her palm by an overly zealous beak.

The ostrich is normally a friendly bird, if not humorous to watch move about
on it's awkwardly long legs and twist it's head to and fro on an equally
long neck. Ugly as sin though.

Drew showed Miss Ryndyll to the stalls he had cleaned out and prepared for
the future breeding of the birds, a place of a pleasant smell as you can
certainly imagine.

"So that's about the long and short of it. My suggestion, ma'am, is we pick
out a few of the stronger, faster ones and see what we can do to magically
modify them. We might spend more time in a library than out here. I think
if we are gonna go about it practical-like, I suggest the ones we breed we
try to manipulate the size so they can be saddled, then you and I can work
on some designs for armoring them. You know, like maybe some kind of iron
beak plate or something along those lines"

Drew then held up what appeared to be just one large sleeve of cloth, sewn
shut at one end. He didn't need to give an explination, as Miss Ryndyll
gave a simple laugh and nodded in understanding. Together they went into
the fenced in area where the fun began.

"Drew, that one would be perfect!" Miss Farm-girl exclaimed. Of course she
pointed out to the largest one.

For a librarian Drew didn't quite fit into the norm, being quite tall,
tanned, and reasonably athletic. All that counts for nothing against a near
seven foot bird that has a good sixty pounds on you and isn't of the mind to
have a giant sock put over it's head. A large plume of dirt clouded up from
where Drew let go of the giant turkey after being drug a good distance. He
spit out a few feathers that a wing to the face had so kindly offered him.

There was nothing to do for it accept to get up and try again. What a day
this would be.




Writer: Ryael

Date Mon Jul 7 14:48:33 2014




Writer: Donelan

Date Tue Jul 8 15:06:09 2014

To Marauders Imm New_Thalos ( All )

Subject Temples of Raije - A kenders path to Soldiering


Donelan walks through Thaxanos. Mostly just dodging drunken dwarves, or
the occasional thug that thinks this kender is an easy mark, only to have
his muscles go slack and his purse go a little lighter. After a few hours
of wrong turns and bad dwarven directions, he finally finds what he's walked
all this way for. The temple of Raije. Walking through heavy wrought iron
gates he steps slowly into the antechamber. Donelan is stopped by the shear
beauty of the temple. Steel and iron weapons of every kind line the walls.
The altar is covered with blood from the wounded, some moreso than others.
Making his way through the room, he is met with odd looks. Have these
people never seen a soldier before? Or was it because Donelan is Kender?
Making his way through the gauking throng of pilgrims and acolytes, he finds
the head priest. In a back corner he stops, takes a breath and asks a
simple question : 'Priest, howcan someoneof mystature, being kenderkin,
servein Hisarmy? '
Turning the priest looks at Donelan and simply blinks.


'You can't possibly be serious? Standing the priest towers over him. 'You
little man aren't built for war, you should take up dancing or singing or
whatever it is your kind do, and do that for his army. If an army would
take such as you.
Donelan looks up at the priest, stunned. His own priest
has no faith in his people to do anything of worth but sing and dance. To
be comic relief to those who are suffering and in pain. He isthe godofWar,
ineach warare battles, each battledefining whatcomes next. Iwill showwhat
mypeople arecapable of..
Turning he swiftly draws his dagger and walks
outside. Not wanting to seem cowardly he chooses a random dwarf, one sober
and having his wits. Donelan attacks with speed and agility, striking the
dwarf's armor like a squirrel in the trees. All the while he is muttering
under his breath, not even noticing his attacks are doing little damage.
Laughing, the dwarf parries and dodges most of them, the small cuts and
knicks he does get are shallow and not much more than papercuts. Then
suddenly, the laughing stops as boils and sores break out All over his skin.
His axe becomes almost too heavy to lift, the small cuts and gouges becoming
more than one can count. His energy is sapped even more as he feels the
curses seep into his bones. After only twenty minutes the dwarf stumbles
and Donelan slips the dagger under his throat 'Surrender ordie dwarf'
Dropping his axe he mutters his surrender. Walking back into the temple he
stands before the priest 'Doubt willbe mycompanion. Doubt thatwe kenderkin
canbe anythingother thanwhat people thinkwe shouldbe. ThenI willsurprise
themand win becausethey won't beexpecting Raije's warrior, anditis Hethat
willmake mewin. Turning, Donelan walks out of the temple, a triumphant
smile on his face. Seeing the dwarf being carried in, he stops and passes
his small hands over the much larger dwarven frame, healing the sores and
boils of the plague. Whistling, he begins his long walk back to the desert
jewel, for now, his home.




Writer: Helga

Date Tue Jul 8 23:06:43 2014




Writer: Syrieni

Date Tue Jul 8 23:16:18 2014




Writer: Diuxa

Date Wed Jul 9 02:51:44 2014

To All Chaos ( Malachive Aoko Erebaal Scorn Imm )

Subject Somnolence III



She stood in the suffocating corridor and gazed with silent intensity at
the message scrawled beside the symbol of warding.

She knew what it meant and a rare emotion was stirred from the red depths of
her soul.

It was akin to her fury, but deeper. Something that ran beside the loss of
her innocence, encompassing a thing she could not speak of and often buried
so deep beneath her hatred that it was easy to forget.

She gave the emotion no name, for in doing so she would have to embrace it
fully and that was a line she could not cross. Instead, she gave it a face
and as the memory came to life again, a persona.

It mattered. It would always matter, even if time forgot.

Her eyes closed out the tunnel, the heavy door with its message and symbol,
the sounds of industry from deep within the Warp and the metallic heat
causing sweat to bead on her green skin. The distractions disappeared and
on her exhale, everything stopped.

A breath of wind slipped through her hair, a soft laugh that remembered
light-hearted joy and bright purity whispered around her - a parting echo of
a memory even she would lose in time.

"Your spirit joins with our ancestors." Her own voice was layered with
others. Others who had come before. Whom she knew lingered, watching,
waiting for vengeance or at the very least, vindication before they could
rest.

Her sight had looked upon them once and would know them until the day she
ended.

"Know peace."

And on an exhale, her body slouched, the power receeding. The confines of
the tunnel returned, the stench of blood and earth infusing the air once
again and the pain of her God-given scars lashed across her back anew, as if
Malachive's touch had returned.

The pain funnelled into her fury and a trickling growl left her lips, an
ominous sound that stopped the incoming acolytes from approaching. She
swung away from the door, its message, its pain and went in search of an
outlet for her anger.




Writer: Isabel

Date Wed Jul 9 04:19:26 2014

To Justice All ( Roleplay Immortal Austinian Religion Nazca )

Subject The Priestess: Inspirations [Part I]


A cool evening breeze blew through the open window of Isabel's room,
sending the flames of the candles she burned flickering wildly. The shadows
danced over the scrolls and parchments that laid out before her. With care,
she cupped the flames with the palms of her hands, steadying them once more
so they would not be blown out. With a soft sigh, she sunk back into her
seat at the desk.

The late night hours had crept up on her unexpectedly. She had been so
preoccupied with her reading that she had not even noticed the sun dipping
down behind the horizon. The pillar candles sitting on her desk were melted
nearly halfway down too. Wax had dripped and pooled around them, causing
quite the mess. Thankfully none had managed to reach the many books and
scrolls that lay sprawled on the desk.

Isabel sighed then as she took out a small cloth from her drawer and picked
up the candles one by one, wiping away excess wax before setting them back
down in their places. Her eyes fell upon the orange flame of the last
candle and she could not look away. Her eyes locked intently upon it.

The words of the angel resonated within her as she stared at the bright
light. Darkness would always be a threat. She must strengthen her own
inner flame and not allow it to be snuffed out by lies and cruel words. A
priestess must lead by example, in both deeds and words.

"Father Austinian, please grant me courage and wisdom. I will need them
both." With a resolute purpose in her movements she retrieved a piece of
parchment and a bottle of ink from her nightstand.

The candles continued to burn far into the night as Isabel scribed. Upon
the parchment, the outline of what would be her very first sermon was
slowly forming and taking shape.




Writer: Erebaal

Date Wed Jul 9 06:07:31 2014

To All Chaos ( Religion Immortal Scorn Malachive )

Subject Baptism


It sang in his hands.

Erebaal swung his new axe, his new companion, about in reaping strikes,
splitting open bellies, necks, and skulls amidst the ranks of the unworthy
that had been captured in recent raids. These staunch adherents to the
False Pantheon- militant or otherwise- had been given a desultory chance at
self preservation with battered blades and wooden shields, turned loose in
one of the fighting pits that dotted the war camps of the Warp across
Tropica.

Some took the opportunity to try and die with dignity- rushing the Word
Bearer with prayers on their lips that were only too quick to become
agonized screams as the bearded blade tore into flesh. Some attempted to
clamber the steep earthen walls, or leap for the sharpened spikes that lined
the top of the pit to prevent escape.

It mattered little, the axe claimed them all.

Within the stifling confines of the monstrous helm, there were only two
sounds to the battle-maddened mind of the Word Bearer; the sound of his own
heart pounding in his ears and the wrathful murmur of his new instrument
demanding more sacrifices. A rational part of his warrior's mind knew the
latter to be a fantastic prospect. There were no personalities imbued into
metal and wood and leather, no driving forces that compelled its wielder to
kill. The remainder did not care. If the axe wished to kill, if the
reaping blade hungered, then so be it. In that respect, as they were in
several others, they were of one mind.

Another man fell, howling, as his arm came off at the elbow and his chest
was opened to the air, arterial gushes painting the muddy earth and
spattering on the earthen slope with the arc of the monstrous axe's swing.
The sheer force of it forced Erebaal to shift his footing to change the
momentum of his follow-up stroke, the whirl of the axe descending slamming
through the mortally-wounded fellow's skull and down into his chest,
splitting the way between his clavicles and into the sternum. The
grey-black head of the axe was slick and darkened with the blood of no fewer
than two dozen captives that were herded into the pit to be offered to the
Word Bearer and his hungering blade. Two dozen souls ripped, screaming,
from their bodies and hurled into whatever afterlife there was for those
taken by the Warp, by choice or by force.

The base of the blood-lacquered vallenwood haft planted in the sticky mud
with a squelch, the monstrous warrior leaning upon it for support as he
panted. The anointing of the axe had taken the better part of three hours,
of endless trials of combat against desperate men clinging passionately to
pathetic lives. Some of them had presented a fleeting challenge before they
were taken into death's embrace. His self-imposed ceremony was complete,
however. With a gloved finger, Erebaal scraped an eight-pointed star from
the blood caking the axe's head. A gravelly, foreboding chuckle sounded,
tinged with a metallic edge through the confines of his grisly mask, 'Yes,
my friend. You hunger still, and so do I. Soon, my companion, and we shall
gorge ourselves on the shrieks of the fallen. Drink deep of this offering,
and we shall claim a world's worth before we are through...
'

The Word Bearer looked up from his blade, his thoughts distracted from the
half-imagined voice in his ears as the sunrise broke over the treeline,
splashing gold and red along the inside wall of his fighting pit. Another
day had dawned, and there were slaves to liberate.

Whether they were willing to be unshackled or not, he did not care.




Writer: Kailyri

Date Wed Jul 9 19:34:01 2014

To All Althainia Kaithen ( Zypher Taliena )

Subject Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part One


The morning was brisk, even for the lands of Althainia, a low fog
swirling about the patient feet of the horses. Each draft horse stood
mildly, their tack of royal blue and gray shining brightly with fresh oils,
while the Guards and one small woman inspected every last detail. The cart
for carrying supplies, gifts of fine fabrics and jewels, candies, medicines
and even musical instruments, was deceptively plain to dissuade robbers and
bandits. All of the gifts were carried within plain barrels marked "Flour"
and a wide sheet, the outside waxed against rain, was draped over them
before being tied into place.

Further still, over their armor, the Guards had been ordered to wear the
garb of the local country folk, their swords hidden beneath cloaks that the
woman had tailored herself. Each one was warm and would protect them from
the elements, but a tiny bit of magic had been used to make them look worn,
and even appear to have some holes. In the spirit of the endeavor, a few of
the male guards had even opted to let their facial hair grow for a more
scruffy appearance. Despite All appearances, a closer inspection would find
alert, wary eyes and a grim set to jaws. The place they went could prove
treacherous, filled with pitfalls and those unhesitant to kill - some had
said goodbies to their families with tears in their voices, promising with
all of their hearts to return.

When it appeared the horses, the cart, and the Guards were ready, the young
woman, dressed in truly plain garb, gathered All of the men together,
including one that did not appear to be a soldier at all. Grasping
Phadynos' hand, and the hand of a female guard next to her, Kailyri drew the
group into a circle, each one bowing their heads. A link was formed at that
moment, not of magic, but something truly otherworldly as their hearts
communed in a moment of silence, each knowing that they would All need to be
careful, and willing to give the greatest sacrifice for one another. Then,
the young Duchess began a soft prayer.

"Gentle, and powerful, Lords and Ladies of the Light, we pray to your holy
Names this day. This morning begins a journey in hopes of uniting the Lands
of Althainia with even more powerful bonds. We go into dangerous and
unknown territories to remind the people that they are not forgotten, nor
abandoned, but the journey could prove dangerous. Thus, we ask that each of
You grant us your blessings: Patience, understanding, wisdom, acceptance,
and strength, should we need it. We ask that You watch over us and Bless
our mission into the provinces, and keep hope in the hearts of our families
as we leave them to keep vigil. You are always and forever with us, Amen."

With that, the Duchess was helped up into the cart and the Lord Sunstone
took his place next to her, his hands lifting the reigns to start the horses
moving at a slow trod. The Guards, an even score in number, divided evenly
into mounted and on-foot, which would be periodically altered through the
journey, giving some the needed chances to rest. As if a portent of things
to come, dark clouds promising rain began to build in the west, a light yet
persistent mist clinging to clothes and skin alike. The young duchess
pulled her cloak more closely about her form and whispered one more prayer
under her breath as the band left the safety of Althainia's walls.




Writer: Kailyri

Date Wed Jul 9 19:40:34 2014

To All Althainia Kaithen ( Zypher Taliena )

Subject Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Two


Several hours into the journey, a bit past midday, the captain of the
Guard drew his horse up alongside the cart. While his brown eyes peered
about at the dark, wet environs, he bent down to speak with Kailyri.

"There's no point in stopping Du- er, Miss," he said, quickly correcting
himself from uttering the title that would surely find unsavory ears. "The
mist has made everything wet. The men can eat astride, then switch out to
let the others do the same."

Frowning, the young woman nodded faintly once.

"You are certain there is no place that we can stop even for a little while?
I would like to give the horses a chance to rest, as well. The muddy ground
surely has been unkind to them, making the ground slick."

The Captain quickly shook his head, water droplets flying free of his short
black hair.

"We are only a short distance from entering unknown grounds," he replied,
the earnestness of his voice drawing a sigh from the young woman. "It truly is
against my better judgment."

"Very well," Kailyri conceded, letting the Captain fall back and give the
orders.

Phadynos released the reigns with one hand, reaching over to squeeze
Kailyri's wrist with gentle reassurance.

"It will be alright. They volunteered for this, remember?"

"I simply did not not expect to have to force them forward in these kinds of
conditions," she replied sadly, but shared a small smile with the mentalist
anyway. "Apple?" she offered, even as she pulled the fruit from her
burlap satchel.

"Yes, please" Phadynos replied, gladly taking the shiny red fruit and
biting into it with a noise of appreciation.

Some time later, after the men had rotated stations and had a chance to fill
their bellies with fresh bread, cheese and dried meat, the small convoy came
to a stop as the path began a sudden downward slope. The Captain again came
up alongside the cart, pulling a map from his saddle bag and unrolling it.
He examined the parchment for some time, gazing out into the Valley below -
or what could be seen of it - before handing the map over to the Duchess.
Her brilliant, turquoise eyes roamed the parchment, noting landmarks and
finally she nodded, rolling the drawing of the Provinces up tightly to hand
back to the leader of her Guard.

"This is the boundary, yes. I will need several moments to begin the map.
Can you have Lieutenant Wilson unpack the cartography table?
"

"Of course, Miss," her Captain responded and there was a bit of shuffling
while the men worked to do as ordered, even erecting the table under the
shelter of a tree that had seen better days.

Hopping lithely down from the cart, Kailyri took a moment to stretch her
aching muscles and force some blood flow back into her hands.

"I do not think we are going to get a break from this drizzle tonight," she
informed Phadynos as he maneuvered the cart into the woods to one side. "I
am going to have the Captain go ahead and let the men start up a camp. We
can have an early evening and be fresh for tomorrow."

"Very well," Phadynos replied, sharing a fond smile despite the
concentration creasing his brow. "I will see to the cart horses."




Writer: Kailyri

Date Wed Jul 9 19:45:09 2014

To All Althainia Kaithen ( Zypher Taliena )

Subject Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Three


Later in the evening, the men had managed to find enough somewhat dry
wood to start a fire, the rest of the fuel drying in the flames. The
buttery light flooded the little glen they had found to the side of the
path, and a detailed scouting had recovered no signs of recent inhabitation.
While some of the guards took first watch, others settled around the fire,
amidst tents that had also been enchanted like their cloaks. The smell of
food, a large pot of stew boasting a freshly captured rabbit, filled the
area and a game of cards was quickly returning the spirits of the soldiers.
Kailyri, with the aid of a lantern, sat at her small desk, carefully drawing
up the details of the valley that their position afforded them, along with
the last vestiges of light from the dreary day.

"You really should finish that in the morning, Miss," came a voice from
behind her. Picking up her head from being bent over her task, the young
woman stretched out her neck, then turned to find Lieutenant Wilson. He
smiled sheepishly, blushing as the Duchess graced him with a warm, angelic
smile. He approached and placed a steaming bowl of stew on the table, along
with a chunk of bread and a cup of mead, as they had doubts about the nearby
stream working its way into the valley below.

"Yes, you are right," she conceded and rewarded the generosity of her meal
with a light pat to the young man's arm. This only proved to fluster him a
bit more, though a wide, boyish grin split his handsome features. It was a
pity his nose had been broken and never set right, but even the flat, broad
appearance suited him. "Go on, now, and join the others. I will be along
in a moment.
"

"Yes, ma'am," came the crisp response and the young woman waited until he
departed before she picked up her bowl and savored a small bite.

"Mm, could use a bit more basil," she murmured to herself.

The next morning brought with it the quiet bustling of well trained soldiers
picking up camp. After the supplies were repacked, double checked, and
triple checked, a head count was taken. The Captain, perhaps overly
paranoid, went up to every soldier, examining their face carefully. Once he
gave them a nod, the guard took up their place either on foot or on
horseback, though two helped to get the cart back onto the road and point
the horses in the right direction.

"Alright, Miss. The way proved clear of debris and less muddy than we
thought thanks to a quick scouting. You have done with your map?" the
Captain asked of her.

"Yes, I quite think so. I will take to the Wind later to see with sharper
eyes than my own," she responded. With that, the Captain gave the order
and the entire troop began down the side of the mountain, entering the
valley below.

As the Cart rocked beneath them, Kailyri took time to take in more details
while she could. The sun was out for the day, but she wondered how often
the weather turned inclement as toward the south there appeared to be the
beginnings of a boggy marsh. Still, while the golden rays fell down upon
thick forests, the previous gloom lifted and the young Duchess was able to
appreciate the finer details of the Valley below. Her hands began to fidget
as she itched to finish the descent and get a much closer look.




Writer: Kailyri

Date Wed Jul 9 19:51:23 2014

To All Althainia Kaithen ( Zypher Taliena )

Subject Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Four


"Well, that last turn likely took a few years off of my life," Lord
Sunstone declared before leaning against the cart and wiping a bleeding hand
across his brow. Covered in mud, much like the young woman, the two, along
with several of the guards, were an unruly mess. Each of them panted
lightly, and looked about, taking stock of one another before the duchess
finally dipped her hand into her traveling pack to retrieve a canteen of
clean water and several herbs.

"Captain, I want a report of injuries, even the smallest cut. I am not
going to let an infection claim even one of us," Kailyri ordered firmly.
She did not give Phadynos even a chance to protest as she cleaned his hand,
then mixed up a poultice to place within the opened palm, securing it with a
tight binding of cloth. While she worked, the guards finished taking stock
of the cart's condition, and each other.

On the last part of the path, a clattering had garnered the attention of the
group before a shout from the back had gone up. A small mud slide had broken
free, sweeping up the cart while the foot soldiers and mounted men had
rushed out of the way. The damage had been minor, but the ensuing efforts
to dislodge the heavy vehicle had produced many falls and a few injuries on
sharp debris. The cart horses themselves were lathered and being walked in
circles to help them cool down.

"You are bleeding, Miss," came the words that drew Kailyri from her focus
of mixing poultices and tinctures for the others.

"What?" came her own surprised question before a dull ache in her calf
drew her attention downward. Sure enough, an open cut in her legging
revealed a small gash in her pale flesh, her warm blood already beginning to
dry and form the start of a scab. "Oh, yes. I will tend to that
momentarily," she assured the Guard.

Some time after All the injuries had been tended and the group allowed to
rest, Kailyri stood with Phadynos and the Captain, discussing their options.

"None of the injuries are serious. I promise you, Miss, that they will be
fine. We should press on,
" the Captain insisted for a second time. "This
area is too open, and we are at a huge disadvantage. The forests provide a
lot of cover and unfamiliar territory, and that rise we just came down? It
is the perfect spot for archers, or enemies with slings. Heck, they could
just push a few boulders off the edge and be done with us entirely. I am
telling you, we need to get into those woods ourselves, and before
nightfall. If you are really concerned about these men, you will let me do
my job, and I am sorry, but that means sometimes I have to push them hard.
Better dead tired, than simply dead."

A flush across her cheeks, Kailyri nodded and turned toward the ready and
waiting cart.

"Very well, Captain. My apologies, let us continue on, then," she
conceded, but before the Captain could say more, or Kailyri climb into her
seat, everyone froze.

"Hoy, there! Are ye folks alright?" came a cry. Then, twenty-two sets of
eyes turned, landing an a small group of people dressed like nomads.




Writer: Kailyri

Date Wed Jul 9 20:06:12 2014

To All Althainia Kaithen ( Zypher Taliena )

Subject Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Five


"Hoy there! I said, are ye folks alright?" came the shout again, with
a little more insistence. At this point, however, the group could make out
that there were four people approaching, and the one shouting was a woman in
the front. She was tall and lean, short hair brushed back behind her ears
and kept from her face by twisting some of the blond locks. Though she did
wear furs, having granted the impression of a nomad, there were farming
tools clasped in the hands of the ones following her. Local villagers, even
farmers.

"Stand down, Captain, and await for a -sure- sign of aggression," Kailyri
ordered under her breath. Knowing her command would be obeyed, she smiled
reassuringly at Phadynos and then stepped forward, woman to woman.

"Yes, yes indeed!" she called back, though less loudly as the small group
came in close enough to determine eye color. Smiling her brightest, the
young duchess did her best to scrub a little more mud from her cheeks.
"There was a mud slide and our cart got stuck, but everyone is alright, now,
and we have the cart free."

"High God bless, that's good news," said the woman, and a murmur of
agreement went through the folks behind her, All larger men. "My name is
Anjya, and this is my husband Gill. The two others are Rohn and Edwin,"
she continued. "My younger boys were out here gathering mushrooms and
berries when they saw what happened. Ran straight back to the village, but
they painted a rather grisly scene."

"Oh my," whispered Kailyri before smiling and offering her hand out to
Anjya. After the two shook, she drew back her hand. "My name is Kailyri
Snowdragon, and I am here on exploration to learn about this area, and its
people. If you, and your family, would allow us, we would greatly
appreciate your hospitality."

Anjya laughed, bringing a surprised expression to Kailyri, but the older
woman kindly had mercy enough to explain.

"Even out here, we know that name. You are from the big city, then, the
Capital at that. I never expected one of our family to deign coming out
this far, or to cover themselves in mud and blood, so whatever you're doing
must be important. I will share my home, and even our Village, if you care
to tell me what this is All about.
"

At this point, both Phadynos and the Captain had come up behind Kailyri,
listening to the conversation. However, both of them remained politely
quiet, letting the two women in charge talk, just as the other men were
doing.

"It would be my honor, Lady Anjya, and my pleasure."

"Though," chimed in the Captain, "if you will not mind my saying so,
ladies, perhaps we could continue the conversation in the village spoken of?"

With another hearty laugh and a smile, Anjya nodded, then beckoned the group
with a wave. "Of course. Have your boys follow us this way. Maybe we can
even douse them in the river. You All look in keen need of a bath.
"




Writer: Kailyri

Date Wed Jul 9 20:12:25 2014

To All Althainia Kaithen ( Zypher Taliena )

Subject Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Six


"Oh this is lovely indeed," sighed Anjya, her smile pleasant as she
cupped a steaming glass of milk and honey with a light sprinkle of cinnamon.
"I would never have thought of mixing these, certainly since we do not get a
lot of spices out this way."

"It was one of my favorite, rare treats as a child," Kailyri responded as
she settled into a worn rocker, her own glass of the mwyll in her hands.
"An Elvish drink, yes, but that does not mean we cannot enjoy it ourselves."

"It is a curiously enjoyable concoction," added Phadynos, which drew a
soft, angelic laughter from the young duchess, her hair still damp from a
bath.

After having arrived in the Village Anjya had spoken of there had been a
rush of activity. Many of the villagers had approached, most of them
farmers and gatherers, though a few hunters had been noted. Though the
soldiers had been wary at first, there had only been interest and even a bit
of admiration from the unwed young women. This had gone a long way in
picking up spirits and soon there were gifts being given from the cart -
mostly the fabric and spices. Afterward, there had been a fuss as the
horses were seen to and taken to one farmer's barn. In return, he had been
gifted one of the steeds to keep for himself. This had sent an awed gasp
through the entire crowed, quickly followed by more eager men and women
stepping forward. By the end of All the good-natured helping, every Soldier
had a place to sleep, a bath and a meal, his wounds freshly tended to.
Which lead to the current, after-dinner conversation being had between the
two women over glasses of mwyll.

The Captain shifted in his own seat, having refused to be separated from
Kailyri, more or less scowling at his cup rather than drinking. Across from
him, Phadynos, and the young duchess, Anjya reached out her hand to join
fingers with her husband, and the couple shared a loving smile. Their two
young boys were already asleep in the loft overhead, or were supposed to be,
but Kailyri had not missed the hushed whispers or the creak of the boards as
the two peeked down on the adults below. To hide a smile, she took another
drink from her mwyll, then let the cup rest in her lap.

"I am loathe to turn the conversation to business, but I gave you my word to
explain why we are here, and I would very much like to keep it,
" Kailyri
said softly, her regret and eagerness plain within her bright gaze.

"And I am eager to hear your words," Anjya agreed, continuing to nurse her
drink, her husband having drained his in only a few appreciative gulps
before refusing a second cup.

"Very well. Althainia, by the grace of the Emperor, Kahlyn Snowdragon, and
with much toil by the Lady Corszana Snowdragon, has decided that it is time
for Althainia to remind her lands, and her people, that they are not
forgotten. To do this, we have begun to split her territory into Provinces
and have given each tentative names to be secured after each has been
visited. We intend to map the areas, take stock of their people and their
talents and trades, and to determine what natural resources are within them.
Also, if need be, we will help to eliminate any threats and safeguard
against future ones so that those within can live without fear. In the
future, a Lord or Lady will be granted title and holdings. It would require
you to give your fealty to them, but in return their efforts could bring
much to your people: trade with the cities, namely, and protection, help.
You could likely see more people wanting work, or a simple life. Trade
would bring in more spices, fabrics, much needed medicine, and if the road
were to be tended more then scholars and even priests would journey here
more often."




Writer: Kailyri

Date Wed Jul 9 20:14:28 2014

To All Althainia Kaithen ( Zypher Taliena )

Subject Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Seven


Deep into the evening, the two women, and the three men, discussed what
the sudden attention could mean for the Valley and the people that lived
there. Kailyri learned much of the people in the Village, which turned
about to have sister settlements through the Valley, which were currently
inhabited. In the spring, the people spread out to tend to various farms
and livestock, but in the late Fall after Harvest and during Winter, which
had already begun to turn to Spring, the people congregated into the one
main village - for safety and companionship during the darker days.

There were massive expanses of nut trees in the valley, which the people had
discovered a variety of uses for. Wild game ran abundantly in the forests,
which were lush with plants both edible and used for dyes or healing. In
the northern reaches of the valley, great falls poured fresh water into the
lands and there had been reports of several caves, which might possess ores,
minerals or gems, though no one in memory had been brave enough to explore
them. To the south, the marshes blocked the way to the sea, coming very
close to the territory of the City of the Dead. It was from this direction
that Kailyri received the most disturbing of the news. A creature,
something foul in stench and evil of nature, was determined to live. About
once a turning of the moon, it would stalk into the village and steal a
woman, or a child. Several of the livestock would be found drained of its
essence and out of fear, the villagers would burn the corpse, rather than
using the precious furs or meat.

By the time the moon had risen high and begun to set, the group had come to
several decisions. The people would submit to whatever Lord or Lady was
granted the Valley. They would also be certain to pool together and select
some huntsman to guide the duchess and half her Guard through the lands,
showing markings of their boundaries and the mentioned resources. In
return, the duchess, the Lord Sunstone, and the Guards, would venture into
the swamp, find, and kill, the creature lurking there. They would either
return the stolen villagers, or claim whatever remains they could for proper
burial rites.

Husband and wife retreated to the loft to sleep with their children, and the
Captain moved to his bedroll near the door, his snores quickly filling the
otherwise quiet space. Kailyri spent some time in thought as she gazed into
the fire, adding a few small logs with care to rebuild the flame. It was
only when she felt a large, warm hand on her shoulder that she looked up to
find Phadynos smiling down on her with kindness, and fondness.

"If you continue to care for others with so much zeal, then someone is going
to need to look out for you,
" he said gently, removing his hand only to
take up the slender digits smaller than his own. "I will keep the Captain
here as long as I can, but you must promise to return, Lyri."

Squeezing Phadynos' hands, Kailyri nodded solemnly. "I give you my word,
Phade," she vowed. Rising, she leaned forward as if to place a chaste kiss
upon the man's cheek, but instead she found his lips with her own. She
imparted her budding feelings with the gentle touch, then drew away, quickly
and silently escaping the cottage. As her steps carried her unseen through
the shadows and past the guards on duty, she drew upon her own magic,
pulling a hide from her satchel to draw around her shoulders.

Within moments, silvery feathers spread wide, shining bright under the light
of the full moon. The owl flapped her silent wings, gaining height on the
cool valley winds before angling south and gliding toward the marshes.




Writer: Kailyri

Date Wed Jul 9 20:17:00 2014

To All Althainia Kaithen ( Zypher Taliena )

Subject Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Eight


The stars shone brightly overhead, outdone only by the full force of the
White Moon. Celestial light caressed the feathers of the owl as she danced
among the pathways of the skies. Sharp, golden eyes examined the world
below as elation swept through her swiftly beating heart. For a time, the
human within struggled to remember her goal as she danced along the air
currents with ease and grace. All too soon, however, the marshes were
below.

Down swooped the owl on silent wing, the bony trees seeming to reach out and
try to grasp the large bird in their bony, barren boughs. With the agility
of a predator, the owl dove between an opening, drawing in her wings to
squeeze past, and then unfurling them once more. She avoided the ground as
her wings tirelessly carried her amongst the trees. The energy of the place
was -wrong-, something in the air sending a chill into her very bones. The
animal let out a screech in protest while the human forced the wings and
tail to angle, turning toward the sense of wrongness.

Soon, too soon, their overwhelming sensation forced the owl to land on a low
branch. Feathers fluffed completely, the creature appeared a ball of white
and silver, rather than a majestic creature. Sharp, vicious talons dug
mercilessly into the bark of the tree beneath her while her head swiveled
this way and that, attempting to keep a wary, golden eye on everything at
once. The owl would go no further.

With another spread of wings, the owl took to the air once more, retreating
a short distance before finding a low, rotted stump in the ground to land
upon. Settling carefully, scanning the surroundings with even greater
wariness, the owl became the woman once again. She had chosen her location
with care, however, and as she reverted to her human shape, shock overtaking
her system, her small form sank within the hollow log, hiding her from
prying eyes.

When she had recovered and the human was once again in utter control,
Kailyri bound her silver hair into a tight knot at her nape, covering her
head with a dark cloth. Her traveling clothes were brown and gray, so she
poked her head over the rim of the stump. Though she saw nothing, the sense
of unwelcome and the stench of death filled the air. She swallowed heavily
and climbed out of her hiding place, moving with paranoid care in every step
from shadow to shadow. Her senses heightened with the adrenaline pouring
through her veins, the marsh revealed itself to be unnaturally quiet. As
sweat began to bead on her pale skin, her instincts screaming to run, she
saw it. The briefest flicker of glamour, a hint that magic had been woven
into the air and the land itself.

Kneeling down, Kailyri touched the earth and whispered a chant, jerking her
hand back quickly as the ground screamed in agony. Blood magic. Old, evil,
and powerful. It permeated the ground with such rotten disregard for life
that it hard burned her fingertips. She swallowed thickly, fighting back
her tears. To create, and keep such a barrier, the sacrifice of life was
necessary. She would not be finding an survivors.

While rage and sorrow awoke within her heart, the shamaness pushed closed
and closer toward the sense of wrong. Suddenly, and without warning, she
passed the barrier. Relief flooded her, but as she tried to take a deep
breath, the most horrendous stench of decay she had ever encountered
assailed her nose - the sickly sweet stench of death a heavy undertone.

"Well, well, little morsel. You found your way to me after all."




Writer: Kailyri

Date Wed Jul 9 20:20:39 2014

To All Althainia Kaithen ( Zypher Taliena )

Subject Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Nine


"It was very foolish of you to come alone," hissed the voice, as if
right in her ear. However, several feet in front of her, sitting on a
throne made of twisted trees intermingled with bones both black and still
covered in strips of rotting meat, sat a creature from nightmares. The
sallow skin simply accented the sunken quality to the blood red eyes and
long, yellow fingernails were sharpened into claws. Ragged, half-decayed
robes of black, stained brown with dried blood from his victims, covered the
almost skeletal figure and lanky hair fell down about the shoulders. It was
the icy, hateful glare that held Kailyri in place while the vampire rose
like a fluid shadow, taking a step toward her.

While the stench gagged her, Kailyri reflexively licked her lips and almost
immediately regretted the foul taste of the air. A strange magic pulled at
her mind, the world growing briefly dimmer and suddenly the vampire was
steps closer, closing in on her with a wicked smile. His smile promised
agony, and torture, but even worse, it promised darkness and evil - a taint
upon her pure soul.

Without warning, a growl filled the area, the tones human, and yet note. A
rage built within the young duchess, her draconic blood stirring as she
faced an entity of undead, of pure evil. Some holy wrath, unnamed, before
unknown to her, filled up her body until she felt ready to explode. Without
knowing what drove her, her hand dove into her satchel and this time removed
a different fur, black as night and silky to the touch, several claws
clicking together with the movement.

"Defiler of Life! Creature of the damned! Your end has come, and my the
Light have no mercy upon one such as you,
" she spoke, her voice sounding
strange to her own ears. The vampire hissed and made to fling itself
forward, its nails seeming to grow longer and sharper. It was too late,
however. Kailyri finished her chant as she drew the fur about her figure.

Instead of his claws meeting the throat of the small, delicate woman, they
raked into the arm of a giant, angry bear. The bear bellowed its rage,
roaring so loudly that the branches of the trees clacked together lightly.
A powerful backhand twisted the vampire around, several claw marks in the
undead flesh. Blood dripped from the wound the vampire had delivered, but
the animal, and the human within, were driven by something deeper - an
instinctual frenzy to destroy that which was unclean, and unholy.

A battle ensued, the bear and the vampire exchanging blows, each attempting
to get the other into a finishing position. The vampire attempted to get on
the bear's back with an agile leap, his fangs growing longer as he hissed
and his face contorted. But the human made the bear topple backwards,
crushing the vampire under the massive weight. Rolling away, the vampire
was only stunned for a moment, quickly moving as the bear tried to crush its
skull with another powerful blow. When the vampire tried to run, it found
the bear behind it, the muscled limbs and great heart allowing the hulking
to beast to run almost three times faster than most men.

While the bear started to bleed heavily from many claw wounds, several
patches of fur singed away by unholy fire, the vampire took the worst,
losing a hand to a bite from merciless jaws, and limping as a slow movement
broke a knee and twisted the leg unnaturally. The human within the bear
felt their strength beginning to wane and began to force more cunning and
care into their motions, circling to corner the vampire in an alcove.

The vampire started to cackle, maniac, evil glee in its red eyes, one of
them swollen shut by the claw marks over it.

"Fool. FOOL! You are too late! Darkness is in your heart, I see it. Even
if you kill me, I have served my Master well this night!"




Writer: Kailyri

Date Wed Jul 9 20:22:57 2014

To All Althainia Kaithen ( Zypher Taliena )

Subject Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Ten


While the vampire cackled, the bear did not hesitate. It reared up onto
hind legs mean to support and transport its great weight, and with another
bellow of righteous rage, it swung its front claws. The vampire's head was
struck clean from its shoulders, but the beast did not stop there. In a
need to eradicate the evil completely, it crushed the skull, then began to
rip the body limb from limb until it could do the same to the black,
unbeating heart. The work completed, the bear staggered backward, shifting
into the form of the young woman.

Covered in lacerations and burn marks, Kailyri ignored her own pain. That
feeling still swelling within her chest, she quickly called upon her energy
and set fire to the vampire's corpse, ensuring that it would never, ever
rise again. As her blood wept from her injuries and agony set her to
shaking, she returned to where the fight had begun. Tears rolled down her
cheeks as she set fire to the blasphemous throne, then began the careful
task of tearing down the Wards and purging the blood magic. When the last
Ward had been wiped clean with fire and the barrier finally collapsed,
Kailyri sank to the scorched grown and buried her face in her hands, weeping
bodily.

The sun rose only a short time later, and with it came the tentative notes
of bird song. The sweet notes gave the young duchess some hope - enough
that she dried her tears and drew her body into a weak stand. Her eyes were
swollen from her tears, and her entire body felt ready to break apart with
the slightest touch, but the sense of wrongness was already dissipating.
Forcing herself to do what had to be done, Kailyri entered the cave nearby.
As expected, she found gruesome trinkets, reminders of the life that had
been taken and used for the most foul of deeds. No more tears came as she
collected the clothes and jewelry she could find, though she turned and
wretched when she found a child's stuffed doll, the face splattered with
blood.

She placed All the items into her satchel and left the cave, standing just
outside of it. Fresh air from the north blew through the marshes, even this
deep, carrying the stench of death and blood away. Sunlight washed down
upon her face, stinging her eyes and her burned flesh. Despite the signs of
life, and how these simple things uplifted her spirit, the shamaness had no
more strength. She slide down against the rocks and stretched out her legs,
breathing in shallow motions as she stared at the blue sky.

As the world dimmed, threatening to grow dark, Kailyri dreamed the sweetest
thing imaginable. A pair of warm, gentle hands touched her cheeks as a
melodic voice, loving and kind, whispered into her ear, "Well done, my
Child."

Then, sleep claimed the young duchess.




Writer: Kailyri

Date Wed Jul 9 20:26:05 2014

To All Althainia Kaithen ( Zypher Taliena )

Subject Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Eleven


Much later that same day, the Guards assigned to protect Duchess Kailyri
Snowdragon had finished mobilizing and were preparing to march south toward
the marshes. Phadynos had kept his word and had convinced the Captain to
wait for as long as he could, but as the sun had finished its rise and begun
its descent, a sense of urgency had come over All of them. The farmer that
had been gifted the horse had even volunteered to return the steed so that
more soldiers could make a swift ride south into the dwelling of the Evil
One. The Captain barked one last order and the well trained guards turned
their horses south, only to pause as a cry went up from one of the
villagers.

"The Duchess! I see the Duchess!"

"Thank the Gods," breathed the Captain as he swung down from the charger in
one smooth movement and and rushed forward. Several people followed, a
mixture of soldiers and concerned villagers, as well as, the Lord Sunstone,
relief apparent in every line of his face.

With the help of a branch taken as a walking stick, Kailyri slowly made her
way into the boundaries of the village. Many withdrew at the sight of her,
covered in muck and debris, blood and angry burn wounds - only some of the
worst ones covered in poorly managed poultices. Her hair was a mess, her
cheeks tear stained, and she limped with the bone-weary aches that infused
her entire figure. Despite All of this, a pair of strong arms swept her up
and cradled her against a chest. She whimpered in protest as her form was
held tightly, several cuts and burns being rubbed. An escort guided her
into Anjya's home, where she was lain to rest on the bed.

The village healer was called in, pushing aside the gawkers and shooing all
the males out of the cottage except the Captain whom took a position glaring
at the front door from the kitchen. Some time later, the healer emerged,
several bloody cloths being deposited in a bin for linens, along with
Kailyri's clothes. She allowed Phadynos to enter, and Gill, then spoke
briefly with them All in a voice that crackled with age.

"She needs ta rest. The wounds will heal. Could scar, depends on her body.
Give her time, and she will be fine."

The Captain and the mentalist both sighed in relief and while one returned
to his post, the other gently touched the healer on the shoulder. His
expression was enough and the old woman nodded, bone beads clacking together
as her hair shifted.

"Aye, lad, but not too long."

The Captain cleared his throat before Phadynos could get far.

"While she rests up, the boys and I are going to finish scouting up north.
I'll leave a couple guards here with you. Take the time to continue getting
as much information from our kind host as you can, aye?"

"Yes, sir, I will."

"Good. We'll leave in the morning. Now, go on," the Captain said, a brief
smile on his face before he left the cottage to go and speak with his mean.

With a smile of his own, the young man entered the sleeping area and took a
seat on a stool left near the bed. He took up Kailyri's hand and kissed the
back of it gently, brushing back a lock of silver hair while the covers rose
and fell with her sleeping breaths.

"You kept your promise."




Writer: Kailyri

Date Wed Jul 9 20:29:08 2014

To All Althainia Kaithen ( Zypher Taliena )

Subject Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Part Twelve


Several days passed in the small village, called Makere, and in that
time, the young woman healed rapidly. The burns flaked away, leaving fresh
pink flesh that promised to turn to normal. The deep cuts turned pink
around the edges while thick scabs formed, new skin slowly growing inward.
According to the healer, only the deepest one across her side would leave
any marks at all, and they promised to be faint, silvery lines.

When not spending her time resting, Kailyri opted to speak with Anjya and
the villagers that had volunteered to go scouting. These were the few men
that not only could hunt, but were decent with charcoal and parchment enough
to draw landmarks and make brief notes. Phadynos kept frequent watch,
sometimes taking over the task of recording the conversation highlights and
important notes when the young woman no longer had the strength to write
with a steady hand.

On the fourth day, the Guards returned. The Captain brought his report to
Kailyri to add to the rest of the notes. He seemed tired, but would not
rest until his men were settled and a watch restored to the village. It was
only later in the evening, just before the sun went down, that the small
group found seats at the kitchen table. Mwyll was passed around along with
walnut bread and a local soup made from vegetables and a plant the villagers
called swan potato.

After All had eaten their fill, they listened intently as she told the story
of her encounter with the undead for the first time. Anjya and even stout,
quiet Gill, both turned pale, their hands finding one another and clasping
tightly. The young boys, almost twins, clung to their mother's skirt, their
eyes wide with wonder and fear at the tale. The Captain sat stony faced as
ever, but his deep frown said more than words ever would.

At the end of her story, Kailyri carefully removed her satchel from the
sleeping area and gave it to Anjya.

"I... Know my story is a tragic one, but I offer these items to be returned
to their familes. May the knowledge that the evil that bound their spirits
to the world is now gone bring them some semblance of peace once they have
finished mourning," she said quietly.

White fingers, surprisingly steady, grasped the satchel and brought it to
rest on the table.

"I had hoped... It does not matter. You risked your own, precious life to
put an end to the disappearances, and you have brought us what little
closure there is to be had. I thank you, and will spread the word through
Makere and her sister outposts that when the Lord or Lady arrives, we will
gladly accept them. They have my fealty, and thus, the fealty of my people,
simple and few that we are."

Nodding, Kailyri squeezed Anjya's shoulder, then Gill's, offering them what
little comfort she was able in the silent, compassionate gesture.

"You have done much for us, and for the Empire. I promise you and your
people will not be governed unjustly, or treated with neglect. On that, you
have my word as a child of Taliena, and as a Snowdragon," Kailyri vowed,
her heart reaching out to the people, aching at their losses.

"If only we had come sooner."




Writer: Kailyri

Date Wed Jul 9 20:32:30 2014

To All Althainia Kaithen ( Zypher Taliena )

Subject Recounting: The Province of Draugdale, Final Part


"I know you have to return, but perhaps some day you can come visit us in
the summer. We have a beautiful festival to celebrate the Constellations,
and it is where most of our young couples fall in love," Anjya said to
Kailyri as the two women embraced tightly.

"I would like that very much," the young duchess responded with a smile.
"Though, I do not need to fall in love."

"Ah, I know, but maybe you could help us supervise them."

The village leader laughed again, and then helped to boost her young friend
up into the cart. Now, the only thing the cart carried were the few tent
supplies and a small supply of food for the return journey. All of the
other gifts had been left behind for the villagers to divide amongst those
that inhabited Makere All year long and those that went to live in the
outposts. With the sun already cresting the horizon and spreading light
through a perfectly clear sky, the return home promised to be a quick one.

All around her, the villagers were saying goodbye to the friends they had
made amongst the soldiers, but one young man - very familiar to the duchess
- stood out.

"Lieutenant Wilson! What are you doing?" she asked in surprise.

"Oh, I've decided to stay behind ma'am. Until that Lord or Lady comes
along, I'm going to protect this place, and start teaching others how to
make swords and use them. Maybe this sweet gal will even have me if I prove
to her I'm not All silliness and dreams,
" he tacked on to the end, a pretty
young thing next to him blushing and smiling. It was clear the two were
already heading toward a blissful life together.

"Then I wish you long life, Lieutenant, filled with much love and many
blessings. May the Gods never forget to smile fondly upon you.
"

By this time, the remaining soldiers had mounted up, or taken their place in
formation. Phadynos had hopped lightly onto the seat of the cart, as well,
his hands taking the reigns with confidence. Amidst shouts of joyful
well-wishes, and sorrowful goodbyes, the twenty-one person group made its
way out of the village and turned themselves east and north.

Beneath a sky bathed in warm sunlight and as bright a blue as any had ever
seen, the little convoy traveled their way home. Several of the men spoke
amongst themselves in fair cheer, the foot soldiers munching on treats, or
admiring small gifts they had been given. The young woman was glad to see
that All of them had healed up, and that the only one they were missing was
because of happy reasons, not sad ones. Scooting in closer against
Phadynos, Kailyri linked her arm around his and rested her head against the
strong bicep. She contently looked to the sky, smiling as several birds
flew overhead.

"And so we leave the Valley of Draug, hopefully a better place, and with
many new memories and feelings. I hope the journey will remain with us
always,
" she spoke, her words soft. A large hand came to rest over her own
and she looked up to see Phadynos smiling down at her.

"I told you All would be well, and it has turned out to be so. We will see
them again, and in the mean time, memories of our friends will fill our
hearts.
"

Smiling in return, Kailyri nodded.

"Yes, you are right."




Writer: Deccan

Date Thu Jul 10 05:04:20 2014




Writer: Deccan

Date Thu Jul 10 05:05:47 2014




Writer: Donelan

Date Thu Jul 10 17:34:53 2014

To New_Thalos Marauders ( Imm rp All )

Subject Temples of Raije - A kenders path to Soldiering (2)


Donelan steps from vibrant green to muddy death. All around him bodies
lie in differant poses of death. Some skewered by poleaxes, others simply
hacked to bits. All his joy simply leaves him. 'Courage' he whispers as he
carefully makes his way to the alter of the Temple of Raije. Trying to keep
his head down as he picks his way yet it is impossible to not see the
carnage around him. After what seems an eternity, and nearly losing his
kibbees, he reaches the alter. Looking down he sees the three swords
holding the altar upright. Three blades signifying the three walks of life.
Light. Darkness. And the balance. Looking up at the statue it dawns on
him. This is what the Highlord Andry wanted him to see. Not how he could
fight, or if he would keep fighting even after the arbiter said he couldn't
join the army. She wanted him to see the other side of Raije's Glory. What
war meant. War meant death, loss, and destruction. But did it?

Looking up at the statue of Raije he recites the precepts. 'Courage, to
face the horrors on one side and see the victory on the other. Loyalty, to
stay the course, to see something done that you started. Victory, to never
stop striving to be better than you are.
'Watch and keep me in the battles
to come, may those I vanquish see your Glory.
Turning around he walks out
of the temple, his gaze always looking ahead of him and never at the dead
and broken bodies littering the ground around him.




Writer: Kailyri

Date Fri Jul 11 10:39:29 2014




Writer: Kailyri

Date Fri Jul 11 10:40:49 2014




Writer: Ashlen

Date Sat Jul 12 18:12:46 2014




Writer: Elrei

Date Sat Jul 12 20:55:26 2014

To All Taliena Imm RP

Subject Trusting in the Path



Have you meditated long and come to a better peace with yourself?

"I am still confused, but I can live with confusion. The pain is no
longer sharp.
"

You needed some time away from All that was causing you so much pain. It
was tearing you apart.

It was true enough, though the source of his pain wasn't Althainia. "My
greatest concern was in misinterpreting Your Will.
"

My will? My will is for you to be happy. My will is for you to spread my
word. You cannot spread the word of love to others if you are unhappy.

Yet had She not told him to join the Gray Church, to give up politics and
diplomatic stations, or else he was not first and foremost devoted to Her
and doing Her work in the world? Had She not told him to continue his work,
and then a week later chided the actions he had taken?

"Then, forgive me. It felt as though I was being guided down a certain
path, a certain vision, and I could not see it.
"

The past, is the past, the future has yet to be written. I want my child to
be happy.

Yet he had still been guided here. "What of the Gray? Is my path to
remain outside of the politics and diplomacy still?
"

Guide those that come to you. Let some more time distance you from what
caused so much trouble. Continue your friendships. Make new ones with
those you come in contact with.

More time. But it was not Althainia which had caused his trouble, the
worry and self-doubt and torment that he had endured. Kahlyn and Benthic
could never have inflicted the sort of pain that would shatter Elrei's
world.

Eighteen days until his trial month was over, and Tief would want an
answer on whether he would be staying in the Gray permanently.

"As You Will, my Lady."




Writer: Babetta

Date Sat Jul 12 21:40:49 2014

To All Abaddon ( Fatale imm ) Jonathen Deccan Orlen Casiella

Subject Logistics of Murder - Keeping it in the Family (Part I)



Babetta felt as though she were ice that had somehow caught fire from the
inside out. Her intestines were razor blades, and her heart beat out an
intense rhythm as the white-hot flow of adrenaline coursed its way through
her young body like a viper's poison.

None of this showed on her face however, as she strode out of the office of
Abaddon's Inquisitor, Deccan. To any passerby on the street, she appeared a
highly bored and slightly sullen teenager with outlandish hair, chewing
bubble gum (to hide the tension that would otherwise be evident in her jaw)
and walking with a slow, unenthusiastic gait.

She had joined Deccan in the library and there discussed with him her...
Options. If they could be called that. Fatale's "laws" were a strange
thing indeed, but however strongly one might feel, the law was the law.
Whatever satisfaction might be gleaned from breaking it would be quickly
swallowed in a sea of agonizing punishment were the God of Murder and Death
to become angry...

Babetta honestly could not decide what troubled her more. The act itself,
the nature of the cover-up, or her fathers pathetic weakness following the
deed. Behind the mask of her apparent apathey, wheels had been set in
motion. Deccan had chosen to be honest with her about what had happened - a
fact she would not be soon to forget. This left her in a sad quandry
though, and she knew that she needed time to think. Emotional decisions
were usually bad decisions, and Babetta was indeed overcome with emotion.

Retreating far away from Abaddon to a distant and forgotten temple of
Fatale, the young womans mind turned over the days revelations over and over
again. Like a toxin without treatment, the desire to murder regardless of
the rules festered inside her, refusing her even a moments peace.

She tossed reagents into the cauldron she had conjured without any thought
to possible spell formulas. Any effort to concentrate on such a thing would
have been futile in the extreme, and the act of brewing was more to clear
her thoughts then to produce a tangile result. Again and again, a useless
potion. She stired the liquid inside the pot, imagining she could see the
events as they played out in the water.

Today, she had learned, All at once, that her mother Casiella Darksong, was
dead. Murdered by her father, Jonathen Darksong, for having an affair. And
she knew with whom. She had also learned, in the same breath, that her aunt
Avienda Darksong was likewise dead for reasons too clearly fabricated to
believe, and that her older sister Syrieni Darksong was a traitor marked for
death.

Following the murder of her mother, which had apparently happened with the
tacit approval of Count Orlen, for she had been the cities Inquisitor at the
time, Jonathen had "made amens" with his wife's lover and fled the city,
again with permission, to go "fix himself". Apparently, per Deccan, the
"shock had been too much". Babetta snorted in discust.

Shock? And what shock was she feeling now? But did she run away to some
comune of Kadiya, or touchy-feely Taliena support group, or whatever the
Hells he was doing, to "fix herself"? Clearly, the act had been born of
weakness, compounded by further weakness of obvious regret.

"Death Requires Strength - Weakness must be Culled." Were these not core
tenants of Fatale?

Another useless potion. And another. Babetta continued to stir, continued
to ponder. Yet, what could she do? Who did she hate? Did she hate the
Count? No, she decided. Oh, she was none too pleased with Orlen. He had
allowed this weakness to happen. He had excused it. Turned a blind eye.
But for his role? Babetta felt only mild irritation. For the most part,
she still liked the man. But her father... For him there was a black
reservoir of emotion.

What to do? What to do? And then, quite suddenly, she realized that potion
she had just brewed a moment again that she now held in her hand contained
an answer...

(continued in part II)




Writer: Babetta

Date Sat Jul 12 22:19:48 2014

To All Abaddon ( Fatale imm ) Jonathen Deccan Orlen Casiella Colette

Subject Logistics of Murder - Keeping it in the Family (Part II)



The Althainian woman moved through the moonlit street in a state of
blissful ignorance. The sun had set only an hour prior, and the pretty
middle aged red head hummed a soft tune to herself, completly unaware of the
shadow that was following her every step.

Babetta studied the woman carefully, feeling the cold press of urgency.
Shadowform gourds were hard to make, and the spell never lasted long.
Although outside the periphery of the guarded imperial streets, the young
witch was still in as much danger here as her mark was. Around any corner
might walk a patrol, or even a good samaritain. Despite being a follower of
Fatale, Babetta was still quite new at this. She had killed before, but
never in a situation where the odds were not stacked completly in her favor.
This was different. One mistake here, and she'd be rotting in a cell
awaiting execution at the Emperor's pleasure.

She had chosen to take the fortuitous appearance of her target as a sign
from Fatale that He was smiling upon her enterprise. Of course, it could as
easily have been dumb luck, but that hardly mattered now. Her attuned
senses told her she had only a half an hour before her concealment spell
lapsed, and if she missed this golden oppertunity another might never come.
Sweat poured down the sides of her face, and she worked to keep her
breathing even. It wasn't enough to simply kill her. It had to be done
right
.

As the woman rounded a corner and was nearly at her own doorstep, Babetta
knew it was now or never. Conditions were not ideal. She had seen a guard
on duty two blocks back who might well hear a scream, but if she went inside
her house she might lock the door...

Stealing up from behind, Babetta wrapped one shadowy hand around the targets
head and covered her mouth. Her other hand made a lightning-quick jab with
a poisoned needle, designed specifically to leave no trace once removed.
Babetta felt a burst of adrenaline and tried to compensate without any
proper training, failed, and made a loud grunting noise as her grip on the
red head went slack seemingly contrary to All logic.

It didn't matter. She was dead before she hit the ground, without a mark.
Exactly what Babetta had wanted. The untrained witch-assassin looked around
frantically. In her mind she had imagined her grunt as possessing the
volume of a trumpet. Surely someone must have heard... But the street on
either side of her remained dark and empty. Silent as a grave.

Looking down, trembling, she studied the woman one last time, even though it
was foolish to linger. The resemblence to her mother Casiella was uncanny.
Oh, she'd never pass for her of course, but after she had been rotting in
the ground for a day or two... Hefting the corpse over her shoulder, much
as she imagined Jonathan had done with her mother, she murmered a prayer to
Fatale and recalled back to Abaddon.

(continued in part III)




Writer: Babetta

Date Sat Jul 12 23:02:21 2014

To All Abaddon ( Fatale imm ) Jonathen Deccan Orlen Casiella Colette

Subject Logistics of Murder - Keeping it in the Family (Part III)



The locate remains spell she had brewed in the Chambers of Shadows had
led her... Here. Babetta looked around with an expression of
uncharacteristic sadness. A lonely, forsaken graveyard and an apparently
unmarked grave.

The white and red moons had long since set. Illuminated brightly by the
empty light of Drakkara's black moon, a light only those of darkness could
see, the graveyard scene around her made for an oddly inversed tableau.

Still trembling from the murder of less than an hour ago, Babetta dropped
the corpse of the red headed woman she had - with difficulty - carried to
this dismal spot. She removed the spade from her pack, pausing to rest for
a few moments before starting her grim work on the freshly turned earth of
the grave. There was no time to lose.

She had anticipated that the excavation to be an arduous ordeal taking hours
but to her surprise, found the freshly made grave easy to dig up. It was
not long before she was face to face with her mother once again, gazing down
into the cold lifeless face that had once brought her such joy. Babetta
cringed, then caught herself, as if Fatale Himself might be watching.
Judging. She had a goal here, and too much time had already been lost.

Fighting down a surge of bile in her throat and a swimming in her stomach
that threatned to give way to vomit, Babetta chocked down a breath of air
before pulling the corpse clear of the grave soil to regard it with an empty
light.

A sudden sense of relief washed over her. Pale, yes. Dirty, yes. But
intact. No rot had yet set in. This is what she imagined Casiella would
look like if she were a vampire, locked in the grip of deathly immortality.
Except, of course, in a state of sleep...

Her hand trempled and she had to stop herself. Spilling the groud would
mean having to brew another one, and who knew how long that might take?
Taking several deep breaths to steady herself and calm her breathing,
Babetta poured the gourd with the necromantic embalm spell down her dead
mothers throat and watched with a surge of joy as the magic begin to do its
work. The body would be preserved, in this state, forever. She had not
been too late.

Sighing, she sank down onto her haunches next to the corpse and leaned back
in the moon light, allowing the night breeze to waft sepulchral air from the
grave around her. A surge of relief overcame her leaving her weak and
faint, not simply because she had preserved the body, but because it had no
obvious mark upon it. Babetta had feared that her father had been stupid
and made a mess of the kill, and that would mean - among other things - that
Babetta would have to inflict the same damage upon the Althainian womans
corpse to ensure the facade would be seamless. She was a murderess, yes,
but she had not been looking forward to having to mutiliate a corpse.

Standing, the young witch began to drag the Althainian into the grave when a
glint in the moonlight caught her eye. Bending down, she pulled a broken
harp free of where it half protruded in the soil. The strings had been cut.



Within her came once again that deep reservoir of blackness. The sentiment
behind the broken Harp nearly made her gag on a mixture of tears and bile.
She gave Jonathen credit, as it was due, for making it a clean kill... But
this was too much. She could not take the Harp. If the grave was checked,
its absence would be noted. Instead, she plucked one of the many broken
strings and placed it into a pocket, visualizing as she did so using it as a
garrote to strangle her father with. She replaced the Harp itself and then
pulled the corpse over it. If her sister Colette told Jonathen of her
interest in Necromancy, as Babetta suspected she might, it was entirely
possible Jonathen would check the grave. She knew this Althainian woman,
once rot had set in, would prove a convincing enough simulacrum. Reburying
the corpse, she lifted the body of her mother in her arms, and left the
graveyard on the wings of magic.





Writer: Jonathen

Date Sun Jul 13 02:19:51 2014




Writer: Babetta

Date Sun Jul 13 06:38:31 2014

To All Abaddon ( Fatale imm ) Jonathen Deccan Orlen Casiella

Subject Logistics of Murder - Hiding the Body



The secret chamber was almost cozy, Babetta reflected to herself, as she
gazed around at her surroundings. Permanent stone torches burned eternally
within recessed wall sconces, shedding a warm and constant illumination upon
the small stone crypt, located far beneath and within the mountains of
Shokono. Well beyond the range of conventional gating magic, Babetta had
taken the additional step of placing wards to prevent both scrying and
location of the rooms contents. She couldn't know for certain if these
would function as desired of course, but the chances that her father would
think to dig up her mothers corpse, inspect it closely enough to notice any
discrepancy in the rotting substitute she had chosen, then think to contact
a necromancer to track the body seemed a highly unlikely chain of events to
say the least.

Now, Babetta stood gazing at the open stone sarcophagus that contained the
magically preserved body of Casiella Darksong. There she lay, carefully
cleaned to remove any trace of her time within the earth, attired in a
beautiful, revealing red gown that would have been both seductive and
flattering on her in life. Babetta had even taken the time to comb out her
hair and place a pair of stylish boots on the feet of the body, such as her
mother might have favored. Except for the extreme paleness of death, to all
outward appearances, Casiella appeared to be peacefully sleeping, her hands
resting together on her lap.

The chamber Babetta had chosen was secret and well hidden. No one would
ever stumble upon it by mistake, and no one could possibly gate in given the
restrictions on such magic on Shokono. Even if someone knew exactly where
to look, they would have an extremely hard time physically reaching the
location so deep in the heart of the mountains without a witches full array
of magical tricks. Just be sure though, Babetta had taken the final
precaution of setting up magical alarms with her gourds. Her mothers body
was as secure as it was within Babetta's power to make it.

Now what? The young woman stood, looking down at her mothers body within
its resting place. She considered her options. The first possibility that
came to her mind was seeking out a vampire capable of raising Casiella as
one of the undead. Babetta wasn't sure if this would actually be possible
or not... She didn't know how long the body had already lain in its deathly
torpor before she found it, and while it appeared to be in prime condition,
Babetta remained ignorant of any possible metaphysical limitations incumbent
upon such a process. Then of course, there was the issue of the demon. It
wouldn't really BE her mother... Or so the books in the library had led her
to believe. Of course, the vast majority of vampires she knew of seemed no
different after their transformation, but then again, demons were notorious
for being deceptive.

Putting aside questions of Kindred mechanics, Babetta also had Fatale to
think about. How would the God of Death and Murder view an attempt by
Babetta to resurrect her slain mother? Although she worshiped Him, the
young witch understood Fatale the least of All the dark Gods. His
priesthood often preached conflicting messages and the books that His voice,
Sereb Trucido, had written were cryptic in the extreme. Philosophical
arguments using Fatalite doctrine could be made either way. One set would
support Babetta's action, the other condemn it as weakness. Guessing how
Fatale Himself would regard such an act was impossible for Babetta, and
there was no one whose opinion on the matter she could trust.

Sighing, her thoughts turned from Casiella to Jonathen. It really wasn't
important how her father met his end, she realized. In fact, Babetta
actually preferred to remain totally anonymous, and would not even have
blinked if he died in a legitimate accident before she could strike. All
that mattered was that he not live. She filed away the idea of raising
Casiella should a chance come up, and began to think.




Writer: Jonathen

Date Sun Jul 13 07:15:11 2014




Writer: Rhaxx

Date Sun Jul 13 21:04:24 2014

To Conclave All Travanian Dxutim Ashlen Tyrinx

Subject Rhaxx Rage, Ebony Student



Rhaxx was not large for an ogre. Nor was he better looking than most of
his kind.

But what differentiated him from most of his kin were moments of clairity.
Almost as if some divine being injected their perspective briefly. Or maybe
Rhaxx was just lucky.

There were invitations to join his kin within Darkonin. It would be a good
life, filled with war, women, and wealth. But that fortuitous instinct,
however fleeting, pulled Rhaxx elsewhere.





Writer: Cheiron

Date Wed Jul 16 19:16:56 2014




Writer: Thaydius

Date Thu Jul 17 00:39:48 2014




Writer: Thaydius

Date Thu Jul 17 00:40:08 2014




Writer: Thaydius

Date Thu Jul 17 00:40:13 2014




Writer: Kermine

Date Thu Jul 17 16:22:41 2014

To All ( Imm rp Hania )

Subject Leaving the Pridelands



Standing on the balcony of the castle, Kermine surveys the city of
Althainia. Her home since leaving the frigid plains of Icewall. Lirrram
had returned to her. The place that was alone, hardening, becoming aloof
was filled again with warmth and love. He says they will make a life in
Arkane. Althainia wasn't ever really his home. He had found her there but
he was a drifter before joining the pride. Will they remain in Hania or
will he insist on a new pride? Papa would be furious if she left Hania too.
She will have to disuade her mate from do that. He is the head of her
house, but she is the neck. And where the neck goes, the head will follow.


Most of the time.

Still, she wonders what her future will bring. A family? A new pride? So
many things uncertain but one thing. She is happy and will do whatever it
takes to keep her mate. Anything.




Writer: Tyrinx

Date Thu Jul 17 18:34:04 2014




Writer: Phibbledorf

Date Fri Jul 18 01:09:08 2014




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Fri Jul 18 15:00:46 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Eight)


Dragon and gnome passed the next several moments in satisfied silence, as
the massive tower rapidly shrank from view behind them. Once they had
cleared the outer fence of Mart-Town, Ol' Brassy began a lazy descent,
banking slightly to the left. Reaching the altitude he desired, about the
mid-point of the tower, the huge brass dragon levelled off, continuing a
counter-clockwise path around the town. The euphoria of first flight
wearing off, it was Thimtax that spoke first.

"Well, I won't lie. I don't think I've ever had that much fun in my entire
life. Did you see the looks on their faces? I can't wait to see those two
back on solid ground!"


Ol' Brassy grunted almost inaudibly, offering nothing more. The pair
continued their counter-clockwise path in silence a few seconds more, before
the hardhat wearing gnome spoke again.

"All right then, I suppose we should get down to the matter at hand,
shouldn't we? Now, had I known prior, I would have packed some surveying
tools for the ride. Luckily, I -do- have a small transit tool and a scope
with me. If you can hold steady, I can get a perpendicular reading All the
way around the tower. Once we've got that squared away, excuse the pun,
perhaps we can shrink the circle down a bunch. That way, I can get a good
look at the facade. That way, I can make sure the grout is holding firm,
and not cracking. It'll also let me get a good look at the blocks
themselves. Check them for any possible cracks or fissures. Then if
possible, I'd like to get right above it again so I can get an idea of ho-"


The large brass dragon interrupted Thimtax with an audible sigh, then spoke.
"There will be no need for that. You and I both know full well there isss
absssolutely nothing wrong with your tower. Your calculationsss and
mathemtaticsss clearly ssshow that, and ssso do mine. Why don't you jussst
sssit back and enjoy the ride?"


Time and time again this morning, the hardhat wearing gnome was dumbstruck
by the words of Ol' Brassy, and Furui, his human form. But, as they say,
successive shocks have a decreasing effect. Thimtax quietly pondered what
had transpired in the past sixty minutes, and the pair continued their lazy
circle around the tower in silence for the next several moments.




Writer: Ryael

Date Sat Jul 19 11:27:14 2014




Writer: Rosa

Date Sun Jul 20 01:29:35 2014




Writer: Rosa

Date Sun Jul 20 01:30:26 2014




Writer: Troy

Date Sun Jul 20 02:21:17 2014




Writer: Colette

Date Sun Jul 20 08:14:11 2014




Writer: Rosa

Date Sun Jul 20 15:56:43 2014




Writer: Rosa

Date Sun Jul 20 15:58:18 2014




Writer: Phibbledorf

Date Sun Jul 20 16:07:15 2014




Writer: Phibbledorf

Date Sun Jul 20 16:59:50 2014




Writer: Phibbledorf

Date Sun Jul 20 17:55:11 2014




Writer: Troy

Date Sun Jul 20 18:18:37 2014




Writer: Drew

Date Sun Jul 20 19:36:58 2014




Writer: Rosa

Date Mon Jul 21 00:57:38 2014




Writer: Rosa

Date Mon Jul 21 00:58:51 2014




Writer: Ryael

Date Tue Jul 22 04:40:45 2014




Writer: Calvissus

Date Tue Jul 22 21:55:40 2014

To Abaddon All ( Storyline Roleplay Immortal Zypher )

Subject |Bath of Dragon's Blood|


Calvissus leaned forward on his cane, looking out over the deck as the
crew raised the corpse from the water. Thirty feet in length, the scaled
beast was pulled on board the deck of the Deliverance with great effort and
restraint. It's corpse hanging, lifeless from the rafters.

Calvissus snarled as he slowly plodded down from the hooded wheel house down
across the open deck. His cane tapping hard into the polished wood with
each ragged step taken. Upon reaching the dangling corpse, he nodded to the
Seashade. The large, burly man stepped forward, battle-axe in hand as he
lined up the mark and then swung. A large thud eminating through the area
as the axe buried itself in the dragon's jugular. As the Seashade pulled
his axe backwards, blood began to spurt out of the wound, dripping down its
Sapphire scales filling massive tubs with its crimson fluid.

With each tub filled brought a small crew of sailors over to remove it,
replacing it with another, until finally the beast bled its last drop. Four
tubs filled to the brim with blood, stacked neatly against the downwards
stairs.

"Take 'em t' mae office, n' fill up th' tub. Leave th' res' there. '




Writer: Kaelowyth

Date Tue Jul 22 23:53:17 2014

To All ( Roleplay )

Subject Time brings about All things



Like an incessant and petulant child, Kaelowyth's mind forced his
slumbering form to stir despite its obstinate desire to remain asleep.
These days it took more and more effort for him to rise, greeted by the grey
and bleak skies and waters of his keep. Once a bustling hub of activity,
where either drills or the sound of various housekeeping would awaken him
promptly each morning, Sylvestris was now empty and quiet, a reflection of
its owner.

His words returned to him, "I am the land." How ironic it seemed now that
Gyathoth had once again withered. He did not need to look out the great
windows to see the dead and decaying trees or the fetid swamps and valleys
which replaced the once verdant landscape. It was silent now, save for the
distant crashing of the waves against the cliffs below - a steady thundering
which almost seemed to echo his own heart's beat. The thought brought a
tiny smirk to the elf's lips as he steadily rose amidst the furs and
cushions which formed his bed.

It had been months since he last visited the capitol. Even longer since he
bothered to read the missives or keep up with the courtly goings-on. On
some level, he knew that nothing had changed and thus did not preoccupy
himself with it for too long. Such thoughts served only to speed him back
to his bed with a foul taste lingering in his mouth. No, today he awoke for
a reason. Today he awoke to properly survey his keep. Gliding like a
spectre or ghost of legend, he exited his chambers into the barren halls of
Sylvestris Hold.

A fine layer of dust covered everything - ample proof that his subjects had
done as they were told and vacated the grounds. For as much respect as they
had for him, they feared what he had become. Gone was the hopeful and
boisterous nature, replaced by a cold and almost ancient malice. They saw
the change in the land even as they saw the change in him. Good - less
people to meddle in his affairs. As he exited the keep proper, he saw the
interior of the keep remained much as he had left it. The spells of order
and growth having done their job to keep even the faintest of cracks away.
A perfect and untouchable tomb, for a perfect and untouchable creature.

As before, that thought brought forth an expression of mirth upon the Elf's
lips even as he floated upwards to survey the whole of his dominion. Dozens
of solid steel chests appeared to be stacked at the portcullis - tithes and
taxes from his citizenry no doubt. Alongside it another pile of waxed
scrolls and missives which would likely simply fuel the fires he used to
heat his tea. It seemed the world was exactly as he wanted it - far, far
away. There was no sign of an invasion or attempt to wrest his small haven
from him, and that was satisfying enough.

Settling down atop the massive pine which dominated the courtyard, he
noticed the leaves had turned a coppery color and seemed flecked with red,
as if blood had spattered upon them. Chuckling softly to himself, the elf
simply gazed out from atop his perch and nodded to himself. A hand went to
his throat, removing the clasp fashioned in the previous haute couture of
Verminasia to denote his rank and accolades. Hanging it from those withered
branches, another soft peal of laughter escaped him.

"Peace and quiet at last."




Writer: Ryael

Date Wed Jul 23 03:56:41 2014




Writer: Troy

Date Wed Jul 23 14:03:07 2014




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Wed Jul 23 23:00:09 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Nine)


"So... Why are we doing this?" The hardhat wearing gnome finally
asked; the only sound, save for the winds of flight, as the duo coasted
around the tower on unseen currents.

Ol' Brassy craned his massive head around to face the inquiring little
gnome, and offered a nebulous reply.

"Thossse who create, ought to be able to fully regard their work."

Thimtax pondered the dragon's answer thoughtfully, then pressed forward with
his question.

"Well, I suppose. But... Why are -you- doing this?"

Without expression, Ol' Brassy slowly returned his gaze forward. With a
mighty flap of his wings, the pair began to ascend rapidly, while
maintaining their counter clockwise course around Mart-Town and the tower.
He answered the hardhat wearing gnome as the town shrunk from view beneath
them.

"Perhaps there are many softlings in this world that strive for absolute
perfection. However, the overwhelming majority of them seek it for reasons
less than virtuous. They seek perfection in their craft, for reasons of
monetary gain, and personal prestige. They seek perfection in their
possessions, for they desire an advantage over others."


"And then, there is you, who cares neither for wealth nor acclaim. You've
taken no extra salary from the Ixi'kweez for building this tower. And your
Chairman and co-workers. They know next to nothing about the logistics of
building something of this magnitude. Perfection is lost on them."


"And yet, there you are. Day in and day out. Checking and rechecking the
day's work, long after the others have gone home for the evening. By the
gods, you asked me to strike your work full force, for no other reason, than
to correct an insignificant deviation in perpendicularity, which noone
including myself had even noticed!"


"No, my friend. You've only one reason to go to the lengths that you have.
You strive for perfection, simply because you -can- achieve such, and
therefore, you -should-. And that, is the most noblest reason of them all."


The duo majestically broke the plane of the roof of the tower, and continued
soaring upward. The huge brass dragon levelled off some distance above the
tower, and pulled up. The two hovered there, well over a thousand feet off
the ground, with the tower below and before them. Ol' Brassy spoke once
again.

"So look upon your masterpiece, Thimtax! Gaze upon what you have created,
and take pride in it! Know that without you, this entire town would never
have been. Your efforts affect this world more than you will ever know.
But, your work is not finished yet. Let this aid in your motivation. And
know that I will be at your disposal should you need anything."





Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Jul 24 01:07:00 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Flight for Work, Flight for Play" (Part Ten)


And Thimtax did look upon his creation. It was exactly as he had planned
it, down to the last detail. Not really one to pat himself on the back, he
was however, willing to concede that All thus far had gone very well, and
the results had so far lived up to his expectations. He was pleased.

"He hasss to asssk." Ol' Brassy spoke once again, the only party to do so
in some time. "The four large sssteel thingsss on the ground in the
courtyard, with their endsss bent down. What are thossse for?"


The hardhat wearing gnome strained his eyes downward to no avail. His
vision was not nearly as sharp as the dragon's. "I can't see what you're
seeing, but I'm pretty sure I know what you're looking at. Those, are for
you."


"For me?" Ol 'Brassy asked in surprise.

"Sure are. You see, originally, this tower was originally going to have a
marble dome for a roof. But, once I realized you may want to use the tower
as an observation post, I had to change it around a bit. Now, the roof will
be flat. Those four steel perches will be mounted there, and secured to the
eight main support pillars for the tower itself. That way, you have several
comfortable options when you're up there, and I won't have to worry about
your massive claws scratching up the roof."


Ol' Brassy turned around to look at Thimtax, a look of concern on his face.
"Hrm? You changed the plan?"

The little gnome shrugged his shoulders. "I had to. Perfection must
include both form and function. To not change the roof, would've been
imprudent."


The brass dragon grunted quiety and returned his gaze to the tower. He
waited several moments before he spoke again.

"You do realize, what may happen to you, should you complete your Lifequest,
yes?"


Thimtax wasn't especially surprised that Ol' Brassy was aware of the ancient
legend of the Lifequest, but he was not expecting him to bring it up. The
legend was that every gnome had an innate task, a life's work, that they
were to accomplish. The nature of their Lifequest is never revealed to the
individual, save through a lifetime of experiences, and in most cases, some
sort of epiphany. The vast majority of gnomes live and die without so much
as even learning of their Lifequest, and noone alive could recall a time
when one had actually completed it. But it was said that when a gnome
completes his or her Lifequest to perfection, Cliath will bring that person
home to Him, and they would create together for eternity.

"Yes, I'm aware." Thimtax finally answered quietly, not a bit of anxiety
in his voice.

The two continued their holding pattern above the tower in silence, as the
sun reached its zenith.




Writer: Drew

Date Thu Jul 24 06:15:15 2014




Writer: Colette

Date Thu Jul 24 08:57:14 2014




Writer: Tarpu

Date Thu Jul 24 22:57:06 2014

To Althainia Dolund'ir Kaithen All ( imm rp )

Subject The Coming of the Lord of the Gullies



Dolundir was one of those kingdoms in the world with no roads leading to
it. Tarpu had to get in through the sewers, though there were other ways
into the city through the Midennir swamp. Tarpu was simply no stranger to
the sewers of Althainia being a gully dwarf. His usual fear was overridden
with giddy excitement. Emperor Kaithen had given him a job and he was going
to do it. The Emperor wanted the rats and skunks of Dolundir slain and who
better than Tarpu Ratslayer for such a task? It didnt cross the gully
dwarfs mind that he might be the only Althainian that really didnt mind the
stench of the dung ridden goblin city.

As soon as Tarpu got there, he realized that this was going to be a long
job. Fortunately Kaithen had told Tarpu he was in charge of efforts in
Dolundir and could have All the help he wanted. So, standing in Monolith
Square, Tarpu waved his hands and whistled loudly to get the attention of
all the goblins.

"Me Tarpu Ratslayer!" The gully dwarf loudly introduced himself, "Emperor
send me here to be in charge! Wants All rats dead! Wants All black kitties
with white stripes dead! Listen to me! Tarpu is Lord of Dolundir now!"


Tarpu triumphantly raised his arms at his proclamation, a cheesy grin
filling his features. The goblins didnt seem to be impressed. In fact they
seemed not to understand the gully dwarfs grandiose explanations, or just
didnt seem to care. The slow traffic of pilgrims to the Monolith continued
uninterrupted, the goblins came and went as normal and one goblin made a
show of using the latrine, meaning the street.

Tarpu scratched the back of his head, looking disappointed. He was hoping
for cheers and celebrating at their new liege lord. Maybe if they saw him
killing the rats and skunks theyd get the idea. Hours spent hunting rats,
trapping skunk and frantically yelling and gesturing at indifferent goblins
went by and Tarpu was tired. Spotting the empty palace in the northern part
of the city, Tarpu gave another grin.

The new Lord of Dolundir would be living there now.




Writer: Drew

Date Fri Jul 25 08:25:47 2014




Writer: Ryael

Date Fri Jul 25 08:55:41 2014




Writer: Cheiron

Date Fri Jul 25 12:48:14 2014




Writer: Cheiron

Date Fri Jul 25 12:53:55 2014




Writer: Colette

Date Sat Jul 26 00:11:05 2014




Writer: Ryael

Date Sat Jul 26 01:04:18 2014




Writer: Ryael

Date Sat Jul 26 03:30:20 2014




Writer: Ryael

Date Sat Jul 26 04:39:48 2014




Writer: Drew

Date Sat Jul 26 15:19:49 2014




Writer: Deccan

Date Sun Jul 27 04:07:32 2014




Writer: Andreyna

Date Mon Jul 28 10:14:20 2014




Writer: Ryael

Date Mon Jul 28 22:29:48 2014




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Tue Jul 29 00:20:52 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part One)


The Chairman absent-mindedly opened and closed one of the myriad of empty
filing cabinets that populated the eighth floor of the tower. This, was the
new home of the Accounts Receivable Department. Ixi marvelled at the near
limitless potential for document and record storage this floor offered. A
simple layout, the entire floor consisted of a cluster of desks and chairs
around the center. Two dozen aisles of uniform silver filing cabinets
radiated from the center outward, like spokes on a wheel. Each aisle ended
short of the tower walls, creating an outer pathway.

The tower was empty and silent, for Thimtax gave everyone the day off. The
95th floor had been completed the day prior, and the Project Manager wanted
his workers well rested, before they made the final push to complete
construction. Ixi'kweez visited the tower nearly daily, his excitement
growing as what was once just a hole in the ground, finally began to
resemble the finished product that he and Thimtax had envisioned. It would
not be more than a couple weeks, before the tower would be occupied and open
for business.

"Squeezums!"

Startled, the Chairman turned around briskly, though there was no question
as to who would have said such a thing. The red panda finished her trek up
the stairwell, and sat up on her haunches, clapping happily.

"Hello, girl! Now how in the world did you manage to find me up here?"
Ixi'kweez knelt down where he stood. The panda made her way over the
Chairman gingerly. As she did so, another voice could be heard, from the
floor below.

"Squeeeeezuuuuums!" The little girl's voice echoed upward from the
stairwell, getting louder as time went on. "Squeezums, no! We're not
asposed to go into Mistaw Ixi'kweez's tower!"


Recognizing the girl's voice instantly, Ixi called out. "Momiji? Is that
you? It's alright, dear! I have Squeezums right here with me! Come on
up!"


The little raven haired girl peeked her head up shyly from the stairwell, a
guilty look on her face. She spotted Ixi and Squeezums not far away,
playing gently. Momiji slowly made her way over to the two.

"I'm sorry, Mistaw Ixi'kweez. We were playing in the courtyard, and
Squeezums ran into the tower."


"It's okay, Momiji. She must have picked up my scent in the courtyard, and
decided to pay me a visit."
The Chairman chuckled lightly, as he looked
through one of the many windows. The sun remained high in the sky. Evening
was still a couple hours away. "It seems you have some time before you have
to be home for dinner. Would you two like a tour of the tower while you're
here?"


Expecting to be scolded for being where she shouldn't be, Momiji was elated
to be offered a tour of such a wondrous building. "Wow, really? I would
love to see your tower!"





Writer: Sindraste

Date Tue Jul 29 01:06:53 2014

To Azheri Bloodlust All ( Admin Dekaios Immortal Religion Storyline )

Subject Acceptance



The dim, crimson light of the sanctum pulsed with an eerie light, a
strangely vital thrum of power radiating from a black wooden edifice that
dominated the center of the chamber. The lacquered coffin stood ajar, its
occupant pacing the visceral room and smiling with a nearly unfathomable
joy. The vampire's smile stretched cold lips painfully- the very sensation
of mild discomfort a joy to the entity that wore stolen flesh. The
satisfaction it felt, however, was entirely its own. The immense pleasure
of work completed.

The Warlord had accepted it.

It had been a labor of months, months of currying favor with the underlings
of the Dungeon. Befriending the ogre, Rogle, simple as it was, and earning
its respect had been the very first step in its carefully-crafted plan. It
was a stout fellow, one well-regarded by its peers. Krazeth, too, had
fallen into its favor quickly, one of the few with the eyes to see it for
what it was and capable of respecting the power it commanded. Even the
Overlord- the man who was to become Warlord, had taken to it, accepted the
gift of its power without question and instead fostering trust as more and
more bodies were added to the pile.

Notes were passed back and forth- first to Jazaren, a fruitless venture that
still could ruin the veneer of happiness it wore as it paced. Then Deza'th
had stepped up, championing it, and wrested the reins of the Dungeon from
feebler hands. The door was opened.

However, it had not been enough, was not proof of its devotions. More favor
was to be sought. The vampire had traveled back across the world, slipping
through shadows and between the cracks of the world, through unseen methods
and hidden ways finding the ear of the Count of Abaddon. Orlen Aingar's
prayers, he had said, were heard by the Lord of Death. It was thus that the
vampire murmured the supplications desired to be carried. Promises of many
more souls to be reaped, orisons of thanks for the existence it enjoyed in
its shell of cold earth and flesh. Such prayers were uttered, it was said,
and the vampire was satisfied so.

The vampire's pacing stopped, and it looked at the coffin that thrummed with
the vital power, eye teeth exposed as it walked slowly to its sanctuary,
pressing delicate, gloved fingertips against the engraving of its own name
embossed in the wood. The final trial, yes, that was the one that pleased
it the most. Letters of faith, a calling to All of the Dungeon who had seen
its actions. Who had received its favor and had been much pleased by the
efforts. Letters from Minions and Reavers, Bloodletters and even an
Underlord. Letters of recommendation and praise, letters from those who
would back it in any venture, who would delight in seeing its power wielded
for Fatale.

These letters, it had taken for itself. With a creak, the coffin opened,
and the vampire gazed within through red-tinted lenses at the sheaves of
delicate parchment strewn in the confined space. It was a strange sort of
response, an almost fetishist act to preserve the letters that lauded it,
but its ego was stroked by the adulations, and so it slept among the proof
of its power.

The shadows writhed with necromantic power and the raw energy of the
demi-plane of shadow, and the vampire turned its head, closing its eyes and
leaving its den with reluctance. The Warlord was not done with it yet.
There were lives to claim.

Lethe'lain surged forward, becoming immaterial in near an instant, and
within the span of a breath the chamber was empty, with no sign of its
having been there at all.




Writer: Megan

Date Tue Jul 29 10:21:57 2014




Writer: Tahereh

Date Wed Jul 30 09:25:38 2014




Writer: Nathalos

Date Wed Jul 30 11:30:57 2014




Writer: Ilimilipili

Date Wed Jul 30 11:54:12 2014

To All ( IMM RP )

Subject A Caged Songbird - The First Verse



Perhaps the most noted change, when All was said and done, was the song.
Where before a happy and elated tune rang out throughout the Verminasian
docks, now it had been replaced with a haunting melody, the notes soft and
cold as a banshee's warning.

Where before men walked the docks and worked the ships with happy smiles
plastered across their song-struck faces, now only the emotionles spirits of
ancient beings passed, lugging supplies to and from the Requiem, neglecting
all beyond that sweet and sorrowful ship.

It was not unhappy, per say; no anger laced this new song, no malice. It
was simply eerie, like the death-knell of a church-bell, heralding some
fallen virtue or another. It was simple; it was pure; it was grace.

The sweet songbird, still wearing her Captain's badge upon her cape, sat
atop her nest, gazing unseeingly over the waves, her eyes never once
wandering towards the land behind her. Her emotions, as always, lay masked
beneath that tender smile of hers; that sensuous laugh and those delicate
movements.

And yet the song went on, seeming to chill the very air with her thoughts.

Perhaps...it was almost time.




Writer: Kyan

Date Wed Jul 30 13:54:10 2014




Writer: Deccan

Date Wed Jul 30 18:47:26 2014




Writer: Aratorex

Date Wed Jul 30 22:04:42 2014

To All Raije Imm (RP)

Subject The ethos of war and humanity



The sky grew dark with clouds and the distant thunder began to gain a
rhythm uniform to the drums of war...

The half-man and half-horse stood below the most ominous cloud above, his
war-tattoo covered frame arched in a defiant pose of victory where none has
yet to be found. The pulse of the war drums begins to fade, and the centaur
knows his journey has just begun. The realm before him as his vision
allows, a cruel and unusual place. The only thing that makes sense to the
centaur is honor, but not Nadrik's honor that can be found by any who seek
it. The honor that becomes truth is trial by fire, combat and honor.

Again the lightning strikes far off in the distance, followed by the thunder
that once again sounds of war drums. A low hung head attached to the neck
of Aratorex, knowing the journey before him is not suited for his cause.
His limbs raise to the darkened sky once again, shouting to Raije that the
laws of men can not apply to him so long as he brings war in the name of
Raije.

The centaur's ideas of humanity were not aligned with his current ethos,
although Aratorex sought humanity in vain, he only must seek himself. But
still, the centaur could not help but wish to shed his reddish aura in favor
of a more chaotic golden aura to honor the War God and dismiss the lesser
laws of men.




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Jul 31 01:05:24 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Two)


The tall, bearded man in grey robes strode with purpose down Dented Steel
Neckguard Boulevard, taking in every sight and sound along the way. The
townspeople, however, hadn't noticed his presence at all. Shifted out of
phase, he continued his course unimpeded and uninterrupted. He noted the
little town was pleasant enough, but his focus was almost solely on the
tower at the town's center. Without stopping, he strode through Gate 'A',
and proceeded into the courtyard.

Afforded his first unobstructed view from the ground, the bearded man halted
his gait. Placing his hands on his hips, he craned his head upward,
following the tower as it pierced the clear, azure afternoon sky. Reaching
the top, he slowly returned his view downward, scrutinizing every block and
seam, every window and vent, down to their last detail.

And in an instant, he was gone, only to reappear in front of Gate 'C' to the
west. His contemplative pose remained unchanged, as he looked the tower up
and down once again. Satisfied for the moment, he appeared yet again in the
east in front of Gate 'G', then at the north end in front of Gate 'E'. Each
time, surveying the structure from a different perspective.

He blinked out of sight once again. This time, when he reappeared, he did
so at every position around the tower; nearly thirty identical copies of the
man's image encircled the tower, All maintaining the same thoughtful
tableau, scanning it up and down from every possible angle. Satisfied, the
man in the gray robes waved his hand, causing his projections to dissipate
into thin air.

No expression registered on the bearded man's face. He had done nothing but
observe the tower from two hundered feet away. His work here had only just
begun. Arbitrarily choosing one of the lower floors of the tower as his
first destination, the mysterious man waved an arm and vanished from the
courtyard.




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Jul 31 01:52:16 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Three)


"Alrighty, twenty-second floor. Marketing, Advertising, and Promotions."
The Chairman explained as he exited the elevator, Momiji and Squeezums in
tow. "This is where Mister Olliwac will lead our team; researching and
developing new slogans and advertisements for our company."


The Chairman tried his best to keep the tour limited to the more interesting
floors, understanding that he was giving a tour to a little girl. However,
he was surprised to find her very interested in everything he had shown her
thus far. In fact, the precocious almond-eyed girl had many questions as
they went along. But it was getting to be later in the afternoon, and Ixi
knew Momiji and Squeezums would have to be home in time for dinner. He
would show her the best part when they left this floor. As they milled
around the endless sea of easels and inclined drafting tables strewn around
the floor, the Chairman decided to ask a question of his own.

"So. I hear Mister Crillow has been spending a lot of time with you and
your mother lately."


"Oh yeah! We see Mistah Cwillow nearly every day." The raven-haired girl
replied cheerily. "Mummy hasn't been this happy since we lived with Daddy."


"And, how do you feel about Mister Crillow?" The Chairman asked.

"Oh, he's great! He's nice to Mummy and me and he can cook really well!
And he's nice to Squeezums too, even though he keeps tripping over her for
some reason. It's like he's going blind."


"Well, Squeezums always did have a habit of getting underfoot." Ixi
replied, chuckling. "Well, I'm glad you three are getting along so well.
Say. It's nearly time for me to take you and Squeezums home. How would you
like to go to the very top first?"


"All the way to the top? That sounds wonderful!"




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Jul 31 02:58:32 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Four)


The tall, bearded man appeared in the middle of an aisle in what appeared
upon first glance to be some sort of auditorium, or possibly a concert hall,
for as large as it was. Black drapes hung over every window; the floor
itself illuminated modestly by ambient light sources affixed to the walls at
set intervals. The man noticed All the walls and supports had been sheathed
in wooden panels, designed specifically with acoustics in mind. As he
panned his gaze around further, he noticed a mahogany podium on the stage.
In an instant, he stood before said podium, looking out at rows upon rows of
empty seats.

In a moment of levity, the bearded man mimed the shuffling and tapping of
papers on the podium, envisioning the Chairman doing the very same in the
near future. He spoke aloud.

"Testing."

He paused. There was no echo, and at least from this perspective, he could
hear his voice projecting well. The mysterious man waved his arm from right
to left, and in an instant, the auditorium was packed with carbon copies of
the man, All gazing in rapt attention towards their speaker.

"Testing!"

Immediately, the crowd rose to their feet, cheering madly. The bearded man,
blushing, took a bow and mouthed a quick "Thank you", then waved his arm
from left to right, causing the auditorium to clear once again.

"Not bad." The man said to himself out loud. "Let's see what else he's
got."
With that, the mysterious man blinked away. The tenth floor was
once again unoccupied and quiet.




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Jul 31 03:02:28 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Five)


The tall mysterious man was surprised that one would ever go so far as to
build a fighting arena in the middle of a tower. But yet, here he was, on
the 86th floor, ankle deep in ivory sand, looking out on a sea of sparring
dummies hanging from hooks in the ceiling and support columns, each in a
different offensive or defensive pose. The bearded man walked over to what
was once an intact sparring dummy, now cut to shreds, most of which laid in
a heap on the floor below.

He could not comprehend taking such an architectual masterpiece, and turning
part of it into an arena for fighting, and the idea did not impress him.
However, this was one of the few floors in the entire tower, where the stone
walls and supports were completely exposed, not sheathed in any type of wood
or tile.

He solemnly placed a hand on the remaining torso of the dummy. A blue light
began to radiate from inside the dummy, projecting downwards towards the
floor. As the light reached the tattered remains below, they began to
levitate upward, re-meshing with the torso. After several seconds, the
dummy had been completely restored to its original condition. Satisfied,
the bearded man turned his attention to the outer walls.

He walked slowly over to the outer wall and placed a hand on it, removing it
nearly immediately. The block which he had touched radiated a soft blue
glow, which faded over the next several seconds. He pondered for a moment,
then with a flash of quickness, the man slapped the same block hard, causing
it to glow an angry red hue. After several seconds, the red glow also
faded.

The man continued to do this at several points along the outer wall and
supports, each time with the same result. Satisfied with the results, he
took a moment to walk to the window and look outside. The sun was lowering
in the sky. It would be evening soon. But there was one more place he
wished to inspect. With a flash, the tall man in grey robes vanished from
the 86th floor, with the intention of reappearing at the top of the tower.




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Jul 31 14:56:44 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Six)


"And over here, we have the forest and the city of Shalonesti, home of
the elves, myself included."


"Oooooh! The forest looks like it goes on forever!" Momiji exclaimed in
delight. The Chairman had placed her atop his shoulders to give her a
better view, for the walls of the open air ninety-seventh floor were at the
moment the same height as the precocious little girl, which would've made
the view much less enjoyable, had she been standing on the ground. The
Chairman walked her around the perimeter of the wall southward, gesturing
towards a large city to the south.

"And that huge city over there, that is the kingdom of Althainia, the City
of Light. I used to live there years and years ago. Nice town."


"It looks beautiful! I can't wait to visit it some day! And the
Shalonesti. And All the wonderful places I've seen here!"


It just so happened, at that moment, the mysterious man in grey robes
blinked onto the 97th floor, mere feet behind the Chairman and his
companions. Startled, he vanished and reappeared nearly fifty feet away.
Of course, noone would have been able to see him, as he was shifted out of
phase, but he was not expecting anyone to be up here. The surprise having
worn off, the tall man casually walked towards the group, and followed
behind as the Chairman led everyone around the tower perimeter.

"Mistaw Ixi'kweez?" Momiji asked, as they enjoyed their walk around the
tower walls. "Do you think I could work at Ixi-Mart when I get older?"

The Chairman slowed his gait to a halt, looking out over the western
continent. "Why of course you could. You are a wonderful, intelligent,
caring little girl. You can do anything you put your mind to. You could
travel the world. Start your own business. Make a name for yourself.
Ixi-Mart would be but one out of many, many options for you."


The almond-eyed little girl pondered the Chairman's words thoughtfully for
some time, but when she answered, she did so with a confidence not normally
found in one so young. "No, I think I want to work for Ixi-Mart. Ixi-Mart
makes people happy. Noone here ever has to suffer. It is the reason
Mart-Town is even here. The company cares about the town, and the town
cares about the company. I want to make people happy, and I'd like to do it
here."


Ixi reached up and removed the girl from his shoulders and placed her gently
back on the ground. He regarded her seriously. The precocious raven-haired
girl never ceased to amaze him. "Ixi-Mart would be delighted to have you as
part of its family. Maybe, when the tower opens, I'll bring you back to the
22nd floor, and introduce you to Olliwac again. I'm sure with his
imagination, and yours, some great things could happen."


"I'd like that."

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

The tall, bearded man stood where he was as he watched the Chairman, little
girl and panda in tow, enter the elevator, and slowly descend out of sight.
Alone once again, he pondered what he had witnessed this day. There was no
doubt in the man's mind, that the gnome indeed pulled out All the stops in
his quest for perfection. But there was more happening here. More than
just an edifice being raised. Thimtax had either intentionally, or
unwittingly, created a town which shared a positive symbiotic relationship
with the tower and its occupants.

"Form and function." The bearded man mused aloud.

He was very impressed.




Writer: Eldrin

Date Sat Aug 2 12:05:17 2014




Writer: Erebaal

Date Sun Aug 3 06:26:15 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers I


The city on the coast of Althainia was a populous once, if not
particularly vast. The real name of the compact bounds was lost on most
visitors, and even more than a few of the natives had forgotten its true
name, preferring to simply call it "home". It was a blessed place, the
locals said, with easy access to the sea for food and a tributary of the
Ishtar providing fresh water and fertile lands to make the place largely
self-sufficient. Trade ships were known to make use of the city's ports,
traders with a mind to send goods upriver and a few unscrupulous sea-bandits
who were willing to pay a bit of extra coin to avoid the hassle of bribing
the Althainian port authority at the main docks proper.

Houses built upon houses lined narrow cobblestone streets, families living
in largely good-natured close quarters. The prowess of the city guard was
admirable, the worst of the lot quickly dealt with when the sailors coming
ashore stirred up too much trouble. While the constabulary was often kept
discipline did not need to be unnecessarily draconian. By and large, the
people of the Althainian continent were of a decent sort, barring the
occasional Abaddonian miscreant sneaking across the border to cause a
ruckus. For the most part, life was good, and the people of the city were
happy. They were safe, they were fed, and they were content.

They were complacent.

It was in the midst of this complacency that the migrants came. Some
bedraggled, some grizzled, some simply hollow-eyed. They came from ships
hailing from Tropica, mostly, with a few walking off of the decks of
southern Arkanian vessels or swimming ashore from some of the less-savory
ships that rumor maintained were cutters that hailed from the pirate Haven
or the feared Dead Man's Cove. Despite their odd appearances, the guard
rarely had much to do with them. Strange as they were, with their odd
accents and their aversion to the questions asked of them when they arrived,
they did not cause problems, quickly disappearing into the bustle of the
city once they had been cleared by the local port authority. They took up
work in the menial labors and lived in the run-down homes in the older parts
of town, remaining beneath notice and venturing out little, but to the local
taverns or to the marketplaces.

It was on these short forays that they began to reach out. One by one, to
most seemingly attempting to merely make friends amongst the city folk. A
kind word from a stranger to a weeping widow, an offer of assistance to an
elderly man. A meal purchased in the tavern, a favor done for no cost.
Slowly but surely, the strangers worked their way into the lives of the
needy and the downtrodden.

When the more devout of the common folk approached them about a visit to the
nearby temples to attend a service, a polite refusal would answer- sometimes
a little too vehemently, or with an undertone of some emotion that refused
to be readily identified. The more curious of the lot would press further,
asking about their beliefs. More refusals would follow. Those that dropped
the curious inquiries found that their newfound friends were suddenly busy
elsewhere- work becoming more demanding or illness striking at the worst of
times. The more insistent and inquisitive, however, would eventually be
rewarded, if in the most terrible of ways.

When at last a curious soul would cross the threshold, an offer would be
made. An offer to attend the quiet service of the stranger's faith. A
small sermon, a small function- a remote sect of some innocuous faith.
Those foolish enough to accept soon found themselves in the dark of a
basement someplace, beneath a tavern after-hours or underneath one of the
rundown homes in the city, surrounded by hooded and robed figures who
chanted in ugly tones. With fear in their eyes, seven such souls were
mobbed by the cultists infesting the heart of the city and cut down, their
hearts sliced from their chests and sacrificed upon the infernal Octed of
Malachive.




Writer: Erebaal

Date Sun Aug 3 06:47:49 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers II


The eighth sacrifice was of a somewhat more delicate procedure. An aging
woman of wealthy stock, she did not quickly take to the migrants who would
visit upon her when she deigned to be seen in public, only hiring one of
them- one of the more handsome specimens- at his groveling insistence.
However, his efficiency and obedience elevated him quickly in her eyes, and
her gaze upon her warmed more and more by the day, eventually becoming
amorous. The young man did not protest when she called him to her one day,
and the first seeds were sown for the final offering to Chaos.

She would ask after him, and in small pieces- small lessons and shared
stories day by day- he would tell her. He would describe the truth in the
broadest of strokes, the stark and unforgiving Primordial Truth diluted to
fit her jaded view of the gods that lorded over Algoron. More and more she
would ask, curiosity getting the best of her between sordid affairs, her new
lover a fascination that she delighted in unraveling layer by intriguing
layer. The way he considered things, the way he spoke of the gods and of
his thoughts on them bordered on heretical at times, and the forbidden
nature of his very life struck a thrilling chord in her. It was positively
sinful, and she considered it All the more exquisite that she had captured
him.

One day, at last, he presented her with a small gift. In the morning, he
had asked of her the great favor of her dusty and abandoned symbol of
Kwainin, a wrought silver medallion suspended on a cord of same. Three days
later, he returned with a new trinket. Gone was the symbol of Balance, and
in its place was a new creation. A curious, spiked star with eight points,
pointing to each of the cardinal directions. With a polite smile, she asked
about it, and with equally polite terms he explained it. The Octed, he
explained, was a symbol of absolute freedom. A symbol of the directions of
the world. Anyone with the proper will, he said, could go anywhere they
choose, in any direction, to any place. The only obstacle was their own
weakness.

With a coy, sultry smile and a soft giggle, she preened, accepting this new
gift from her charming lover. It was a lovely thought, and the symbolism
behind it was sensible. It was a faith for not simply the common soul, but
for any who had the ability left to dream bigger than their own lives. As
she slipped the chain about her neck, however, a terrible chill ran through
her body- a soul-freezing pain that lanced from head to toe, followed by a
fiery burn that made her eyes water. As she tried to cry out, however, she
found to her horror that her body had ceased to obey her commands. With
fearful eyes she looked up at her erstwhile lover, seeing him in a terrible
new light as he loomed over her, from his handsomely-cut clothing producing
a wickedly-sharp dagger with the Octed branded upon the hilt.

Her soul belonged to the Warp now, he said with a widening smile, the
madness that he had hidden for weeks finally allowed to come to the fore.
The mark of the Lord of Chaos was seared into her very being, and she was
the keystone to the redemption of this city of fools and weaklings. Her
silent protests went unheeded as his dagger fell, and a splash of crimson
painted his face and his well-made clothes. It was the work of some minutes
to remove her heart, and even as her body cooled he set to work.

He moved with quick, deliberate movements, measuring the lines carefully as
he daubed his hand in the blood of the dead noblewoman, painting upon the
floor of her bedroom the Octed in larger scale, setting her heart upon the
very center, upon the convergence of the eight equal arms. From his pocket
came a tightly-bound scroll, wrapped around a tiny pearl that burned with
latent power. It hurt to touch, but it was with a zealous desire that he
grasped it tight as he read the words inked into the vellum.





Writer: Erebaal

Date Sun Aug 3 07:04:13 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers III


Eight hearts of heretics stolen, taken from the fearful and meek. Their
bodies form the stones of the Path to the End. We tread this path together,
and call upon you now to lead us. Heed the call of the faithful and come to
us now, Word Bearer!


The words resonated eerily as he spoke them, the taste of blood overwhelming
in his mouth. As the last syllable fell, so, too, did he, blood dripping
from his lips as he coughed and gagged. Dreadful heat filled the room, the
tastefully-decorated chamber darkening as a hellish glow suffused the far
wall. With bleary eyes, the cultist peered over the corpse of his false
lover, over the hateful bed where he had woven the web of his cunning trap.
A swirling portal of churning black and bloody red had engulfed the wall,
seeming to consume it entirely with a doorway to elsewhere.

Within a minute, the first of the beings from the other side began to come
through, filling the bedchamber quickly and beginning to push past one
another, past their weakened brother and the dead woman and into the hall.
The cries of servants at this sudden intrusion were cut short with brutal
efficiency, each new visitor armed with some form of weapon or other- most
of them human or similar and wielding clubs, swords, knives, or the
occasional flail or other exotic weapon. Each of them had a few common
features, despite their disparate races and choice of attire. Each of them
wore loose-fitting half-robes of blood red over their ramshackle armors,
each of them clasped their overrobes with the Octed, and each of them had
the same light of zealous madness in their eyes.

A dozen, two dozen, and then a score more filed through the hateful portal
before the eyes of the bleeding cultist, the flow of blood refusing to end
even as he neared the point of unconsciousness. The world swam as he
remained on All fours, heaving blood with ragged breaths onto the Thalosian
carpet that his companion had decorated her chambers with. So far gone was
he that he nearly overlooked the going-ons around him, until at last his
attention was dragged forward once more.

A ripple passed through the room, an unease that jumped from person to
person as the armed cultists backed away from the churning portal. The last
cultist through seemed to try dashing away, elbowing his way into the
hallway outside and a little bit farther still. The dazed cultist found
himself being trod upon by booted feet, groaning as he was kicked and
shuffled around while the portal disgorged a final traveler before yielding
to the force of the world trying to mend the hole torn in it. With a
shriek, the Chaos portal closed and was no more, leaving behind its final
occupant.

Standing a full head taller than any of the humans and vying for height with
a few of the cultists of clearly half-ogrish descent, the broad figure of
the man was unnaturally swollen, corded with growths of muscle that seemed
too great for a man's body. Wrapped in platemail so thick as to test the
limits of belief for movement, he strode with an ease of motion that taunted
the expectations of his observers, unlimbering a massive axe from his back.
A horned helm depicting a scream demon's visage in place of the face swept
side to side, taking in the disposition of his forces as they backed away
from him, finally settling on the prone figure who was once again alone in
his suffering, his abusers having fled from the sight of the butcher in
their midst.

'W-we... We did as you commanded, Word Bearer.. The hearts of eight.. The
way open... It was...
' he coughed out a weak laugh, blood joining the
growing stain beneath him, '.. Unpleasant... The woman, that is... ' He
looked up at the figure that was now striding toward him, his heavy
bootfalls deliberate and slow until the massive man loomed over him as he
had his victim not so very long ago. He looked on without fear, as one so
close to the grave can look upon any mortal terror and feel no more,
'Release... Me.. '




Writer: Erebaal

Date Sun Aug 3 07:14:50 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration Prologue: The Strangers IV


The bestial visage of the mask gazed down at him in silence, then turned
to the axe held in both gauntletted hands. It tilted toward the weapon, a
low growl in the broad man's throat as he seemed to listen to some unheard
voice. A creak of leather was deafening in the absolute silence, onlooking
cultists not daring to intrude upon the exchange between the summoner and
the summoned. The man's hands tightened on the weapon, and he brought the
bearded axe up over his head in an executioner's pose.

'It hungers. '

The axe fell.

The summoner passed into the Maelstrom without a sound or a cry, crumbling
as the back of his head, his neck, and his upper back were simply
obliterated, punched through by the cutting edge of the weapon. A wet thud
sounded as the body was slammed into the blood-saturated rug on the floor,
and a dark chuckle was heard by all, coming from the butcher who had just
slain one of his own.

Erebaal Phaeron raised his head and his voice, his gaze and his words taking
in All of the cultists in the room and several in the hallway who peered
into the bedchamber from the doorway. 'This city shall serve as an example
to the rest. The Final March will not be stopped. The Final March cannot
be stopped. Put it to the flame. Burn it all! Slay them all! Let the
world see the wrath of the warriors of CHAOS! LET THE STREETS RUN WITH
BLOOD AND LET THESE FEEBLE CREATURES DROWN IN IT!
'

The Word Bearer's bloodlust was infectious, spreading to his followers like
a plague as his words grew more and more frenzied, until each maddened
cultist stirred and howled and cheered their assent as their leader's final
command was spoken. With a cry, they surged toward the exits, spilling out
into the streets in the waning night, their yells and frenzied howls audible
from streets away.

Within an hour, the midnight sky burned fiery red as the forces of Chaos set
light to the coastal town.




Writer: Travanian

Date Sun Aug 3 20:17:19 2014

To All imm Drakkara

Subject Faltering Hourglass



The woman continued to struggle, even as she felt hopelessness set in.
The chains that bound her were heavy iron, crackling with a low purple fire that had quickly taught her not to push to far.
A dark line of burned flesh striped across both her upper arms, seared deep into the pale skin.
The door creaked open on only lightly rusted hinges, but no figure stepped through that dark portal, there was only a slight pause before the heavy oak slab swung back to it's original place and locked with a heavy thud.
Frantic eyes darted in the woman's bloodless face, scanning from corner to corner as she searched for what had disturbed the door, now pressing back towards the wall rather then away.
"You must wonder, darling, why such a common woman as yourself has been dragged to the Ebon Spire, yes?"
The voice that echoed around the stone room was deceptively soft, sliding forth as a melodious clear baritone, although there was still no visible source.
"You must wonder to yourself, yes, I who have a family, a life full of happiness, love, sanity... What would anyone want with me? I have nothing of worth to steal..."
Here the voice paused, and a slight rustle was heard as a tall, lithe shadow detached itself from one of the walls and glided forward, a set of burning amber orbs floating within the shadowy tendrils.
"Why, thats where you're entirely wrong, my dear," the shadowy figure said, as the shadows slowly began to slink together into one mass, which began to float to the ground into a solid shape.
"You see, your life is full of things that strengthen your will to continue living the pitiful existance you possess. They draw you back like a moth to a candle, they inspire you, here," the Archmagus said, tapping one long slender finger against the woman's chest, directly over her heart.
Whimpering and groveling, the woman's eyes rolled madly and her mouth opened as if to speak, but only groans of despair continued to leak forth as she failed to find her voice.
Without any further words required, Travanian released the chains with a word, gracefully kneeling to pin the woman as she slid bonelessly to the floor, even as one pale hand drew the sacrificial dagger from his belt.
A feral grin twisting at the corners of his mouth, he swept the dagger down in a hard slash, opening the woman's throat from ear to ear, the blood gushing forth to splash across the stones of the floor, and coating the milky white skin of his hands and forearms.
Looking down, the feverish amber eyes of the dark elf met those of his latest victim as the gleam of defiance and life fled from there depths.
Setting to work, he began to carefully slice into the corpse, opening it with swipes of his dagger before driving his hand directly into the chest cavity.
Travanian drew the still warm heart out, before sitting cross legged on the floor, cradling the symbol of desecrated life in his palms before him.
Slowly, he began the chant, the dark words rolling from his tongue, his voice rising and falling and rising again, the sounds trapped within the blood splattered chamber.
Rising swiftly to his feet, the necromancer grasped the heart in his left hand, lifting it high as he screamed the last of the incantation, a fanatical fire burning in his gaze as he lifted his right hand over the heart clutched in his left.
Flickers of black mist roiled around the clawed fingers of his right hand, as the heart pulsed violently, a white substance streaming from it towards his open palm, entering the flesh and racing up his arm and All the way through him.
As the last of the white light fled from the heart, the shriveled husk crumbled in his grasp, dust drifting to the floor in the ringing silence following his bellowed words.
Travanian smirked, nodding to himself, as he began the process of cleaning this chamber, leaving no mark of what had transpired.




Writer: Ilimilipili

Date Wed Aug 6 05:14:31 2014




Writer: Oszen

Date Wed Aug 6 19:21:28 2014




Writer: Erebaal

Date Thu Aug 7 03:38:16 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration I


Panic spread through the port city faster than the fires.

All across the sizable burg, men who had arrived as strangers but had grown
to become friends turned on their companions, drawing blades and laying into
would-be friends as the first hints of hellish red began to fill the night
sky. In taverns and on the docks, in late temple services, the strangers
cast off the falsehoods of their identities and embraced the madness of
Chaos with zeal, making first for the churches of various faiths to put
their inhabitants to the flame first.

The local guard, to their credit, mustered with commendable alacrity,
forming a brigade first to deal with the flames that spread from the manse
from which the followers of Chaos charged forth. Soon, however, they found
themselves with a new conundrum. The first wave of cultists that surged
into the city were primarily of larger races, of half-breed and pure-bred
ogres indoctrinated with the basic precepts of Chaos. These lumbering
brutes laid into anything that did not bear the Octed with a stupid joy, the
half-ogres acting with a bit more discretion, taking a particular joy in
smashing into the houses surrounding their point of entry and terrorizing
and sacrificing their inhabitants before the torches were put to them.

Following were the common men and half-elves, the occasional wilder,
maddened with grief or with a resignation to the inevitability of the Warp's
success, who began to break into the local Tower, startling the magi within
who were laboring to send out a warning to the Althainian capitol. Their
message was drowned in screams as axes and blades pierced the senders,
disrupting the portals and sending spells that were to bring deliverance.

The Guard carried on their defense admirably, with dogged determination even
as the conflagration spread from the heart of the city. Pillaged temples
began to catch in every corner of the town, panic and flames spilling out in
the wake of the Chaos advance. Brave men and women fought with a grim
desperation, thinning the numbers of the initial wave with the understanding
of their predicament- to die would see the rest of their fellows All the
worse off. They fought like animals backed into a corner, with a fury
almost unmatched by any of the ranks of the forsaken that had come to
destroy their way of life.

Their anger was paltry in the face of the Word Bearer.

When at last the last of the cultists had been dispatched from the portal
room, the scion of Chaos deigned to emerge. Cloying smoke was thick in the
air, and the din of frantic battle was a cacophonous symphony that battered
at his ears. Beneath the ghastly visage of his bestial helm, Erebaal
smiled, feeling his blood grow hotter and the shutters of his mind beginning
to darken. The world was turning red through his eyes, and the whispers
were growing louder.

He heard it All the more clearly. It was growling in his hands, practically
trembling with the force of its ravenous hunger. The hateful edge of the
axe seemed to glow with its own malevolence through his bloody gaze,
catching the hell-light of the burning homes and temples and reflecting it
to him like a sign.

It was time to feed.

A growing roar built in his throat as monstrous strength, as berserker fury
coursed through his limbs, carrying his armored form out through the
street-facing window of the dead woman's manse and into the fray, heralding
his cataclysmic arrival in the chaotic melee that had broken out in the
docks' square.

In the following minutes, it drank deep.




Writer: Erebaal

Date Thu Aug 7 03:58:29 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration II


The little girl sniffled as she crouched in the corner of the city
dungeons, the only occupant of the hall of cells that All stood ajar. Her
father was the Captain of the Guard, off to fight the strange men that had
come from nowhere and begun destroying things. She had tried to ask what
the men wanted, why they were doing these awful things, but her father had
shaken his head with a look that had scared her more than the fire that was
burning on the horizon did.

Within the hour of his departure, he had returned to the modest home he
shared with his daughter, the well-made armor of his office dented and
bloodied, one bracer split open and hanging from his wrist by only the
leather strap. She had started to cry then, seeing her father in such a
state. He had bade her come with him, that they would not be going far.
She took his hand- avoiding the side that had the shattered wristguard- and
held on tight, her small legs working beneath her to keep up with her
father's hurried stride.

She had tripped almost immediately on the way out the door, cobblestones
knocked loose as the ground began to shake. Temples had started to collapse
around the city, the force of some of the heavy edifices causing tremors
that quaked the nearby commons. Her father had scooped her up, then, barely
breaking stride as he pulled her into his arms. He paused for the briefest
of instants, looking into her tender face and managed a small smile, a
fleeting affection before the grim mien of the Captain returned and he began
to run for the city dungeon.

By the time he had arrived, the cells were empty. All of the doors stood
ajar. The heavy stones had not been knocked out of place by the nearby
demolitions, nor had they been forced. The little girl had looked around
and asked where everyone had gone.

They had been freed, her father said, they had been asked to fight for their
homes in the hopes that they could live to see a second chance. He had set
them free to protect everyone, to protect her, and that it was safest if she
hid where they were kept. He said this with a smile, but the little girl
could see something in his eyes that worried her. Her father was not always
so gentle with her. He was a stern man, but a good man. He had many rules,
and he stuck to them all. He took his job more seriously than anything but
the duty of raising his daughter, and this breaking from that tradition
struck a chord even her developing mind latched on to.

Something was terribly wrong.

He had guided her to one of the cells farthest from the door, a clean room
that had clearly not seen use for several days. The straw on the floor was
fresh, and the simple sleeping roll had not been slept upon or soiled. He
had told her to hide in a corner and to not come out unless he told her to,
that he was going to leave the door open the tiniest crack so that she could
make sure it was him when he had returned. Help was coming, he had said.
She just had to be brave for him for a little while so that he could go and
make sure the strange men did not hurt anyone else. Again, his strange
manner unnerved her, but she had put on her best brave face and nodded to
him firmly. He tousled her hair with his bloody glove, leaving faint traces
of it in her locks. With a smile that faded even before he turned away, he
walked out of the cell, closing it All to All but the very last and left her
in near-darkness to hide from the forces of Chaos.

That had been three hours ago, and now she huddled alone in the dark. Fear
ate at her, keeping her from passing out where she stood, but still
exhaustion crept up upon her tiny form. On the other side of the thick
stone walls, the din of men shouting and metal clashing was heard, sometimes
at a pitch that was loud even through the heavy muffling of the rock. Once
or twice she thought she had heard footsteps outside, but she dared not to
leave her corner to check.




Writer: Erebaal

Date Thu Aug 7 04:17:55 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration III


As dawn began to creep up on the city, at last she slept, a fitful rest
that brought her little comfort.

She did not know how long she had slept, nor did she remember the exact
circumstances of the nightmares that roused her. All that she knew was that
some time had passed since she had nodded her head against her arms and
dozed. Some time had passed, and stinging in her eyes were tears forcing
their way out.

She stood up tentatively, a tiny whimper of a sound forming a question
without words. With wide, fearful eyes, she dared creep over to the cell
door, which still stood open a crack. She peeked through it, afraid even to
blink as she glimpsed through the gloom of the dungeon.

At some point in the night, the torches had burned themselves out, casting
the corridor into heavy shadows broken only by the light that shone through
the open doorway at the end, past the jailer's desk. Daylight had fallen,
and the sounds of battle from the previous night had fallen silent. There
was no sign that her father had returned, and a knot of dread was
solidifying in her stomach.

Quiet as a mouse on her own, the little girl cringed as the heavy wooden
door of her cell creaked. She wedged the heavy edifice open just enough to
slip through, creeping toward the light of day that beckoned her. Nothing
opposed her in the gloom, though her imagination had cast terrible
apparitions at the edges of her vision that lurked inside every cell. It
had taken the passing of several minutes for her to slink into the light as
she poked her head into every cell, just to be safe.

Outside was a scene that could have been Hell.

All down the wharf road was desolation, buildings razed to brittle timbers
and the road torn apart in some places. Blackened bodies- some wearing the
armor of the guard, some wearing the ramshackle raiment of Chaos, and some
wearing mail with symbols she did not recognize- littered the gutters of the
avenue. Many clutched weapons in their charred hands, many broken or
consumed by the flames that had taken their corpses. Tears were squeezing
out of her eyes again, and she bit her tongue to keep from sobbing. Nobody
deserved something this horrible. Only the wickedest of souls, the sort
that Austinian's love did not touch, could do such horrible things. Even
the murders that she had heard in hushed whispers among the wives of the
market perpetrated by Fatale's death cult did not reach this scale of
horrendous destruction.

Turning her head this way and that, she scampered out into the broken
street, threading her way through fallen combatants and the wreckage of
burned-out husks of buildings toward her home but a few streets over. In
the distance, she heard something that could be more fighting, raised voices
and the clatter of steel. The sound of it made her freeze, like a deer
happening upon a predator, before she forced herself back into motion,
girding her courage as she tried to find a point of reference in this new
and ugly world.

She found her father not fifty paces from the shattered door of her
demolished home.

It was a terrible sort of thing, in her eyes. The grandest cruelty forced
upon anyone by the world. The ring of destruction that had radiated out
from the temples and from the manse had been stalled at some point through
the efforts of the guard and, perhaps, by the men in strange armor she had
noticed on her way over. That line had ended very literally one house down
from her own. Hers, it seemed, had been the final victim to be consumed by
the blaze, and it had taken the courage of a single brave man to stop it.




Writer: Isabel

Date Thu Aug 7 04:31:57 2014

To Kikko Justice All ( Roleplay Immortal Austinian Religion Nazca )

Subject The Priestess: Visiting the Ruins


The misty morning air clung to Isabel's robes as she yawned again. It
was early. Far earlier than she was accustomed to being about and in the
forest no less. The bouncing, eager kender in front of her tugged at her
hand, urging her onward. Isabel couldn't help but smile at Kikko's spirited
gait. If only humans had such boundless energy, she thought silently to
herself.

As Isabel quickened her pace to keep up, her thoughts returning to what
waited ahead. She and Kikko had spoken at length of the accursed statue
that had been placed upon the rubble that was once the city of Balifore.
She had never visited the ruins of the Kender Kingdom but she had grown up
hearing the tales of Malachive's rise and the destruction the demi god and
his followers had wrought on the realms of Algoron. The thought of it made
her stomach twist in a small knot as she considered the countless lives that
must have been lost. The kender were not so easily wiped out. Some had
escaped the destruction and rebuilt their lives, persevering in the face of
adversity and Darkness. She smiled then, glancing at Kikko. Isabel admired
the optimism and fearless nature of the kender. They had survived for good
reason.

--+---+---+---+--

The dappled light beaming down onto the forest floor in front of them
suddenly shined harshly as the woods opened into a wide clearing. Isabel's
breath caught as she took in the sight of what could only be described as a
wasteland. It was difficult to picture that any living things had ever
grown here. The few, charred stumps were the only evidence to the contrary.
He gaze was immediately drawn to the white granite statue that stood upon a
base of mortared rubble and cobble.

Kikko frowned as they marched up to the idol of Malachive, her normally
cheerful features becoming a mixture of disgust, sadness, and anger. She
spat on the statue, glaring up at it with fierce determination. "This is
what ORB needs help removing." Isabel gently rested a hand on Kikko's
shoulder and nodded in agreement as she looked at the statue. Kikko
continued, "This thing is salt in the wound to All kender." Isabel smiled
sadly, giving the kender's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "I will pray to
the Father on this matter, and I will do whatever I can to help see this
statue removed from Arkania." Kikko glanced up at her as hope sparkled in
Kikko's eyes. "Some believe this land is cursed by Malachive." Isabel
nodded again. "That very well may be. But I believe Father Austinian could
heal this land. I do not think such is beyond the power of His Goodness."

The kender flashed a bright smile at Isabel then. "Some have already agreed
to help. And I pray to Big A about it All the time." Isabel nodded again,
smiling her familiar gentle smile. "Count me among those who will help. I
am sure that there will be more who will want to aid you in this." Kikko
gave Isabel a hug and the surprised priestess giggled softly, bending
slightly to return the embrace. They both glanced at the statue then one
last time. The land did feel wrong and in a silent unspoken agreement,
neither wished to linger longer there than need be and turned to leave.
Kikko beckoned Isabel to follow her and Isabel did so gladly. With every
step that put distance between them and the statue, Isabel felt the
heaviness begin to lift from her heart.

She believed in the kender. She believe in ORB. They would find a way to
rid the world of that blight of a statue. As they walked, Isabel prayed
quietly. "Father, bless the endeavors of your children. Help us remove the
mark of Chaos that has been left upon Arkania. May your Goodness shine
through and restore these lands." Isabel kissed the pendant around her
neck and smiled gently as the sight of their bind stone rose in the
distance. The hall of Justice was her home and she could not imagine being
without it. The kender people needed a place to call home again too.




Writer: Erebaal

Date Thu Aug 7 04:34:06 2014

To All Chaos ( Immortal Malachive Scorn Religion )

Subject Conflagration IV


Her father lay in the middle of the street, untouched by the flames that
had devoured so much. His armor was in ruins, the proud chainmail of his
office shredded and tattered in many places, clotted with blood where he had
been wounded over and over again. The sword in his hand was broken- and,
indeed, not even his sword as far as she could recognize- and the shield on
the opposite arm- his wounded arm, had been cloven from the top down. He
had been mangled and beaten and had not gone quietly, a fact attested to by
the bodies of six cultists arranged before him. Three of them appeared
human, or something close to such. The fire had claimed two of them and
only the approximate proportions of their armor gave any hint as to who may
have worn it. The other three, however, were massive brutes, ogres that had
been laid low with massive wounds to their chests. Hoofprints had scattered
much of the ash on the ground, but the girl took no notice as the sight of
her noble father broken on the ground opened the floodgates to her despair.

A wail forced its way from her throat, a warbling clarion call of utter
misery that carried on dead air.

Her sobs shook her entire body, tiny hands reaching for the broken pauldron
that barely clung to her father's shoulder. She gave it a tentative shake,
a futile effort in vain hope that it would wake the fallen. Her cries would
not stop, could not stop, and as her hands fell into the soot and ash on the
stones, she gave a scream of pitiful anguish that wracked her body with its
intensity.

Then she heard it.

A heavy bootfall, far too loud for the city guard. Her bleary eyes came up
from the ground and her father, fixing uncertainly on a blur the color of
blood in the middle distance. She wiped her eyes with the back of her
forearm, smearing a line of ash across her face as she screwed her gaze into
focus.

Whatever it was, it looked like something out of a nightmare. It had a face
like a monster, a metal mask that opened a fanged mouth wide in a scream.
It had horns and spikes, jutting from its head and from its shoulders and
elbows like the demons that came to take the children who would not obey.
It carried an enormous axe like an executioner, a weapon that looked too big
even for its brawny stature, and as it moved, it left behind a pattering
trail of blood that stained the ash beneath it.

Worst of all, it had seen her.

She sat up, paralyzed with fear at whatever that thing was as it began to
lumber toward her, its armored bulk seeming too big to be able to move the
way it did. Heavy bootfalls slammed into the ash, kicking it up as its
stride changed, its weight leaning forward as it dug in its heels. It was
some three hundred feet away, maybe, but it had begun to do the impossible.
It had begun to charge. The footsteps grew louder, crashing against her as
she screwed her eyes shut. It was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.
Her father would wake her up in a minute if she could just hold on a moment
longer.

It had begun to shout, bellowing words she could not understand through the
slits in its mask within the demon's mouth. She didn't know, and she didn't
care anymore. It was a nightmare, and she was going to wake up. Footfalls
became even louder, and she felt a shadow cast over her, big enough for
three people. It was upon her. She was going to wake up. It was just a
nightmare.

She thought she could pick out some of the screamed battle-cant in the final
second.

'IT HUNGERS!!'

The axe fell.

There was a flash of light.




Writer: Nymaya

Date Thu Aug 7 21:02:44 2014

To All Reklah Ashtiel Dimidus Philyra ( RP Necrucifer Fatale )

Subject Primal Worship (I)


The flames of the bonfire licked high into a black sky, the only light to
be glimpsed for miles. For neither star nor moon flickered above, replaced
by the heavy shadow of threatening clouds.

It was a night to worship, to believe in demons and wild spirits. In which
dark things danced through the deep, caressing dreams and nightmare alike.

She stood by the edge of that wild light, captivated and bound to the eerie
chanting, the ominous beat of drums. It called to her, slipping through the
blood like distant thunder, her heart beating strangely in time. It
harkened to something ancient, something primitive within.

Fur-laden bodies painted with red, black and white moved rhythmically around
the flames - like freed spirits, everything about them was primal and
mesmerizing. She could feel their movement in the ground and that part of
her that had grown amongst their ilk, that had fit more with their wildness,
sought to join.

She did not though.

She stood alone, watching the hypnotic play of shadows as it cast a rictus
visage over each of them in turn. As if the God of Death were there amongst
the gloom, casting a mix of blessings and curses.

Her thoughts fell like stones into the river of her Song, that rushed just
beneath the surface. Appraising the moment and how appropriate it felt,
gazing inward to mark the ever present resonance of the Haunt that writhed
as if called by the bonfire... and the cold shadow that had long since
taken hold in her soul.

Quiet your thoughts

The whisper licked through her like a fine edge, tingling painfully over
nerve endings, leaving behind an oily taint that was recognized intimately.
She obeyed though and let silence rule her mind.

A breath of icy wind swirled around her, an infernal caress if ever she'd
felt one, and then dispersed. The stale humidity closed in again and though
the rustic drumming continued, she became aware that the elders All had
their eyes on her and the dancers had turned, their arms lifted toward the
above.

Tempted to turn away, to fade into the impenetrable night All around, she
was instead rooted to her place at the edge of the fire light. She had been
invited, a rare gift or so she had come to understand, and her discomfort
aside she could not turn her back on that. For no matter how refined she
might have become, in life and faith, this was primal and important.

The elves, her wild kin, who lived amongst the shadowy boughs of the Great
Forest were not a welcoming lot but she had piqued their curiosity. A high
born - they called her - who wore wild heritage openly and walked in
darkness. She was not a stranger to such regard. If only they knew...

"You will drink of this, you will dream and we will know. " The voice was
ancient and brooked no argument. She hadn't heard the elder approach but
she met his steely eyes and slowly accepted the fragrant bowl.

*cont*




Writer: Nymaya

Date Thu Aug 7 21:06:38 2014

To All Reklah Ashtiel Dimidus Philyra ( RP Necrucifer Fatale )

Subject Primal Worship (II)


Hesitation.

She had an inkling of what she might see or dream if she drank of their
strange concoction and she was not eager to visit it. There would be no
turning back now though. She had agreed to attend.

The dancing had resumed; two circles moving in opposite directions around
the stationary blaze. It was dizzying.

"Drink." The word was spoken as command and an otherworldly gleam
shone within the shaman's eyes.

No more hesitation. The liquid went down her throat like fire, burning
a path All the way to her soul. The bowl fell, her right hand lifted to
hold her throat and the left would have followed but she was on her
knees and a shadowy form held her wrist in a solid grasp.

A fever gripped her, comprised of gut-wrenching pain and strange wonder.
Was she to die now? The elves had been worshipping the darkness...death.

If there was an answer, it appeared in the form of a dagger flashing
dangerously in the night and culminated in sharp pain as its edge tore
through her wrist and palm. The metallic scent of her own blood followed
and she realized that she remembered this. A memory..

Gritting her teeth through the pain, her eyes watering with it, she
turned from the priestess holding the dagger to look at the throne and
the Queen sitting its cold stone.

Do you seek death. The woman spoke but her lips did not move. Her
eyes flashed red in the shifting mists.

Does it seek me. She knew the answer though no voice spoke it. Her
cry scraped forth then as claws tore into the dagger wound, ripping it open
wider. There was no fighting it, so she endured.

What broke you?

*cont*




Writer: Nymaya

Date Thu Aug 7 21:17:06 2014

To All Reklah Ashtiel Dimidus Uvall ( RP Necrucifer Fatale )

Subject Primal Worship (III)


Something stirred in the darkness as if the mists were alive, concealing
a predator that watched - that waited. She was not afraid anymore though.
There was only cold conscience; an awareness of the choices she had made,
the road she had chosen to walk and the merciless God to whom she had
devoted All but her heart.

If anyone owned that it was her husband, her children.

Their names whispered forth over and over again as they entered her
thoughts, the sound becoming a maddened cacophony. She couldn't stop
it, couldn't get away from it, couldn't cover her ears to muffle it.

You think you know madness. Laughter followed; malicious, mocking.

And abruptly - the whispers stopped.

She was still on her knees, she could feel the solid ground beneath her
and the heat of the sanguine flames roiling from the fire that licked
up toward the shrouded sky. Sweat had coated her skin and as she lifted
her gaze to the shaman standing over her, holding her left wrist in his
hand, the encompassing chill of anger rushed in to fill the confusion.

"You carry a spirit with you." The words were intoned with reverent
interest and her anger dispersed before a wave of dizziness. Upon closing
her eyes though, she was met in the darkness by the faint outline of a
spirit.

Linot.. Friend. Sister. Lost.

Remotely, she knew that she was speaking. A chaos of words, answers
perhaps to questions but she could not control the fever or the tumble.
It burned in her gut, through her veins, in her head. The last time she'd
felt this was in the desert - the sandstorm...

Stop!

She wasn't sure she spoke the word aloud, she couldn't differentiate
between reality and dream. A jumble of memories assaulted her though,
as if she were caught in the rapids of a river. There was no stopping
the avalanche until- as if All the world simple ceased to exist, the
rush of images and sensations simply ended and there was black,
emptiness.

It was a balm next to the inundation but she knew, even as she floated
in eternium, that she would reach true insanity if it went on indefinite.
She could have been there forever or a mere handful of moments, time did
not matter and though the fever persisted, she found calm. Linot was
there, stalwart and strong. As she had always been. And then another.
It's will was unfathomable, demonic. Her eyes opened to meet a crimson
gaze with black pupils but there was no fear, not this time.

Have we tasted enough of this. Mocking, wry. Was it a figment of
madness or was it 'him'? Perhaps he was simply a part of her now. It
didn't matter. She had paid her debt.

Laughter preceded the sudden shattering of the black emptiness, she fell
and with a sharp inhale of breath, she was awake.

*cont*




Writer: Nymaya

Date Thu Aug 7 21:30:52 2014

To All Reklah Ashtiel Dimidus ( RP Necrucifer Fatale )

Subject Primal Worship (IV)


The night was still and she could taste smoke, smell ash and ember. The
bonfire smoldered where it stood but the flames had receded. The wild elves
were gone with the exception of the shaman who sat nearby, gazing at her.

Weary but released of the ritual, she pushed herself up and sat still,
simply content to be free of the fever. To be awake.

The shaman stood while the silence thickened and walked to her side. A
feather lowered before her, held in his calloused hand. White and possessed
of many brown streaks and spots, he held it there until she finally accepted
it. Owl..?

"Wisdom and death walk hand in hand." His cryptic words filled the silence
and then, "That spirit will only bring you pain. If you ever wish to be
free of it, come to me."

"Which one?" She asked wryly, voice hoarse. Her throat was parched.

The shaman laughed at that and lowered her a bowl that sloshed. She
narrowed her eyes at it and glanced up at his grinning features, still
painted with white, black and red. Stark colors that made him look as wild
as his heritage suggested.

"It is not the ritual drink." He claimed with amusement. "Just water."

"I don't think I'll be doing that again. " And she lifted her left hand to
accept, but stopped short of taking the bowl. There was a poultice wrapped
around the scar, extending from palm to wrist.

The shaman crouched on his haunches and taking her right hand, forced her to
accept the bowl even while he explained, "Your scar reopened during the
ritual. We take this to mean Fatale was pleased."

Pain throbbed in a sharp line through the wound as soon as she noticed
it but rather than dwell, she set her mind to the water and took several
deep draughts. She would not accuse these elves of lying but it seemed
more likely to her that someone bled her with a dagger - again.

When she was finished, the shaman was gone. Without a sound, leaving
nothing but the spent bonfire, the feather and the bowl behind.




Writer: Ashtiel

Date Sat Aug 9 23:00:25 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part One


She slept but a few hours.

Her dreams were troubled, haunted by intangible memories that were not her
own but lingered upon her waking, fogged images and thoughts from times she
had never been alive to witness. They clung to her half-awakened senses
like ghosts, distorted whispers of things long lost.

Unaccustomed to sleep and still weary, she forced herself from her bed and
crossed the room to splash some water on her face before pausing to study
her reflection in the mirror there. The sight of her mismatched eyes still
alarmed her and filled her with unanswered questions.

Why had she agreed to this?

The question repeated itself in her mind. A litany of doubt that set her
mind wandering over the events of the evening before and she replayed them
in her memory.

The blessing of the Queen's temple for Necrucifer had barely begun when she
had felt it. A presence on the edge of her senses. It drifted on the
boundary of awareness, urging her to calm herself. The voice in her mind
directed her to come to it when the ceremony had ended and had fallen quiet
once more.

For a moment, she had questioned her sanity. It was not entirely impossible
for her to fathom that her mind had snapped or that the lack of sleep had
driven her to hallucination. The others in the room had sensed nothing.
Distracted, she had remained for the service.

The graveyard was by no means her favorite place in Verminasia. The man
that waited for her there had been wreathed in shadow, the only visible
feature the green of his eyes. The conversation began as many do.
Recognition of her father, a brief mention of knowing. What followed was
the offer of a story. The skald in her could not refuse and she had rested
upon a headstone to listen.

'You can step into the world of Necrucifer. I can sense it. '

'There is something from there I need. '

Those opening lines had struck a nerve, filling her with a sense of dread
even as they intrigued her. She had listened to his explanation and
accepted a quest that could very well bring her a fate much worse than
death. But why? She could name no reason other than a feeling of fate.
Her existence had been building up to this moment. She could either face
what lay ahead with acceptance or continue on as she had been.

Regardless of reasoning, Ashtiel found herself blindly following whatever
impulse had led her to become a host for the spirit that now lingered
dormant inside of her.

The growing light of dawn had drawn her attention from her reflection,
snapping her from her revelry and she crossed the room to her window to
watch the rise of the sun with a heavy, heart felt sigh.




Writer: Ashtiel

Date Sat Aug 9 23:50:54 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Two


The day had passed without event.

The quiet was enough that Ashtiel had begun to question her sanity again.
Fortunately, the fact that one of her eyes was still glowing green
reinforced the fact that she was not, indeed, insane.

She had searched through the library of Iagothal manor but had found nothing
written that matched the words the spirit had shared with her the evening
before. Whatever time that the spirit had lived had happened too long ago
to have been recorded in any of the ancient tomes that were housed within.

Finally, coffee in hand, she resumed her usual post at the guillotine. Not
much time had passed before she felt it.

The presence within her awakened, stirring on the edges of her senses, and
she greeted it with a simple, 'Morning. '

Did you rest well?

'Well enough. Did You? ' Her spoken rejoinder drew her an odd look from
one of the peacekeepers passing by, making her All to aware that she was, by
all appearances, talking to herself.

It was difficult to keep you here. I may have under estimated the power of
the bind that you were cursed with...


Thankful enough for the rest to avoid complaint and lacking argument, she
remained silent and waited while the spirit gathered his strength and began
the process of searching for signs of the shaman he had mentioned the
evening before. The shaman had in its possession a relic that would help in
obtaining what they sought in the other realm.

The power of it rippled out from her and her head spun as the spirit took
control of her senses and expanded them, searching every living and undead
being nearby from multiple viewpoints All at once, her mind racing. From
the streets of Verminasia, her mind's eye moved outward, touching upon the
people of Arkane before moving further still.

She struggled to concentrate, to grasp hold of any one detail as they
floated into being within her head but they moved swiftly. Her awareness
stretched over oceans and continents, passing through the shadows of beings
and structures as if they were no more than portals. Finally, they found
it. A power shielded their gaze from entering the Blackwood.

Ashtiel's first thought had been of the vale. But the spirit discounted it.
Something else lingered within the wood that was blocking his magic. Her
mind snapped back into place.
Something in the forest is keeping me out.


Go, see if you can find anything. Be very careful and go slow.

The shadows swirled around her protectively, condensing into a solid shield
around her armor and limbs and her one green eye began to glow as she stood
from the guillotine and began her journey to Icewall.




Writer: Ashtiel

Date Sun Aug 10 02:12:57 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Three


Stop a moment.

The breath left her in a frosted cloud that lingered on the air as she came
to a sudden halt a few feet from the entrance to the wood.

The spike of inky darkness that fired forth from her chest startled her but
she watched it curl out towards the trees and spread wide, reaching some
unseen shield that sent it drifting like dust to the frozen earth.

I don't think I will be of much use to you in there. Do you think you can
handle it on your own?


Ashtiel chuckled inwardly as she walked towards the trees. 'Well, I suppose
we'll be finding out shortly, won't we?
'

She had made it only a few more feet into the tree line, stepping past the
invisible shield before the spirit spoke again, his voice growing weaker
with each word.

I... Something is putting me i-in... Stasi-

The protective layers of shadows melted from her armor. She was on her own.


The exact moment his voice failed and the protections left her, the sound of
a cronish and cackling laugh echoed forward from the wood.

She followed the sound, or more accurately wandered in the direction that
she perceived to be its origin. An odd quiet fell over the woods and then
the shrieking of bats sliced the silence as they poured in mass into the sky
to the east, drawing her to a cavern hid at the edge of the forest. The
breeze that drifted forth gifted the waning day a sinister aspect that
shrouded the forest behind her.

She paused outside of the dark mouth of the cave to douse her light and
glanced backwards once before venturing inside.

Bats hung from the ceiling within and a weathered old woman stood beside a
pool of water that had formed in the center of the cavern floor, illuminated
by the ball of light that drifted with her.

'Stop there. Do not come any closer! ' The aged, curled joints of one hand
lifted the knotted walking stick held within and leveled it at Ashtiel and
she obeyed, quietly eyeing the woman.

'Think you can fool us? Think that we could not see you bring the damned
with you?
' The crone shrieked the question at her and the peaceful water
of the pool began to boil and fill the cave with a thick steam.

'I do not like to consider myself entirely damned. A little hopeless,
maybe.
' She backed defensively away from the old woman as she answered,
moving herself a bit closer to the exit at her back. 'And to intend to fool
you, I would have to know you or seek you ill. I come merely in search of a
relic.
'

'We know why you are here, what we do not know is which of the abominations
you carry with you. It hides itself from our sight. Tell us it's name, so
we know the identity of this unwelcomed guest.
'

'I do not know it. ' Having given her word to keep his presence a secret
from all, she lied.

'Lies! It decieves you and you defend it. What has it promised you? What
is it's price?
'

'I believe what you sense is a tether between myself and the lands of
nothing. I have not been promised anything.
' Ashtiel managed the last bit
sincerely, her tone alone conveying the truth of her words.

The old woman lowered her staff, sinking to sit cross legged on the cavern
floor before the spring as it settles, the veil of steam still lingering in
the air.

'You do not know what you deal with. '

Ashtiel bit back a dry chuckle and raises a brow, her lips curving at the
corners with genuine humor. 'Lady, no offense, but story of my life. '




Writer: Ashtiel

Date Sun Aug 10 14:43:35 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Four


The steam that misted the cavern air sent cold droplets of sweat rolling
down the back of Ashtiel's neck. High above, the shuffle of bat wings drew
her gaze cautiously upwards for a moment, her eyes quickly assessing the
creatures that hung there before she returned her attention to the crone.
The pool that separated them rippled calmly now.

'Who are you? ' She finally broke through the silence that drifted between
them.

'We are the great Oracle, Daphne. We see the possibilities of the future.
'

The sound of her sword sliding back into its sheath at her hip sent the ring
of metal echoing off the walls. Ashtiel raised her hands in a gesture of
peace and introduced herself.

'We know. We have seen you, watched you, as we watch All things. ' The old
woman cackled sinisterly. 'That you are still alive is nothing short of the
grace of the forces that govern fate and destiny.
'

The black of the crone's eyes did not focus but they remained turned in the
direction of Ashtiel's voice.

'And your eyes? '

'We lost our vision fighting the green-eyed devil. With it he took the
sharpness of our gift, and our predictions have since been clouded.
'

'Do you have a prediction for me? ' Ashtiel asked, her arm lifting to wipe
the dampness from her brow.

'We have seen several, All of which end with your eternal imprisonment
within the heart of Necrucifer's darkness, suffering endlessly.
'

A dry chuckle fell from her smirking lips as she eyed the oracle. 'Was
there ever another possibility?
'

'We have at times seen a future where you come to us, and we rid you of your
curse, but without our eyes we lack the ability.
'

'Your eyes? They cannot be returned to you. ' Ashtiel's voice sounded cold
to her own ears.

'There is a way, but there are none able to take back our eyes by force. '

'Interesting. ' Seeing no need to push the issue further, she returned to
the quest that had brought her here. 'I seek a relic. Do you have it? '

'We know what you seek, for yourself, and for your abomination. Let us rip
it from you, and cast it into the spring to be purified, and we will bestow
upon a weapon of your choice the ability to draw blood from the most
powerful of demons.
'

Tempted. Ashtiel shook her head. 'Afraid I can't do that. A weapon of
that sort would do me no good. You and I both know that.
'

The oracle hissed in disgust.




Writer: Ashtiel

Date Sun Aug 10 15:02:16 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Five


'If you wish our bottle instead, and to march into oblivion even after
hearing our prediction, we will ask you do something in return.
'

Another cackle. Another deal.

'What is it you would ask? ' Ashtiel shoved the black and silver strands
clinging to her face behind the points of her ears and stared at the crone
as she waited patiently for the trick to be presented. There always was
one.

'We will take the shard upon you in place of the eye, if you are willing. '


Her hand fell to her satchel to draw it closer to her defensively. Inside
it, the enchanted shard contained the form of a middle aged woman who lay as
if sleeping, her soulless body bespelled and trapped in crystal.

'So an eye or the shard? ' Neither were her's to give and so she asked, 'I
need time to make a decision between the two. Am I allowed it?
'

Her question agitated the old woman who shrieked at her in that dry and
scratching voice, 'We can not let you leave this place. It will know what
you have seen and will return for us and we will be defenseless.
'

A resigned sigh fell from her lips. 'Then we've an issue, it seems.
Because I'm not handing over either willingly.
'

The Oracle Daphne smiled wickedly and snapped her fingers.

The steam that lingers in the air turns a sickly shade of green as the
oracle rises, her aged frame groaning with the effort of her movements.

Ashtiel lifted the fur of her pelt over her mouth and nose, wary of the
steam.

'It's no use. You have been breathing it this entire time. '

Her strength drained from her, forcing her to her knees as the weather
oracle limped over to her. A gnarled hand reached out, 'Shhh.. It will be
over soon.
'

The oracle's gnarled hand explored her face before coming to cover her green
eye and the pain was numbing, shooting through her skull as she felt the
spirit's eye being torn from her own.

Sensing her struggle, the presence within her stirred to awareness and with
great effort forced his energy into her right arm. The moment strength
flooded into her arm, her dagger left it's place at her side, flipping in
her grasp to strike at the hand that covered her eye.

The crone's shrill shrieks of agony as her hand severed at the wrist were
ear piercing. She fell back, clawing at the ground with her remaining hand
in futile effort to drag herself back toward her pool and away from her
attacker. She did not get far, the fall of Ashtiel's blade ended her
advance.

Even as her last breath fell from her lips, the bottle that they had come
for fell from the oracle's belongings, rolling ominously onto the floor and
Ashtiel crawled forward to pick up the relic, stuffing it into the satchel
that held the shard before aiming a weak kick at the old witch's corpse.

'Take my eye will you?! '

Freed from the stasis, the spirit hosted inside her flooded her with
strength, purging the poisonous steam from her. She rose from the cold
stone, grabbing hold of the old woman to drag her further away from her
magic pool because this was Algoron and some things didn't stay dead.

That was close.

She didn't laugh.

You should find someplace else to go for now. Whenever I use this much
energy the forces of the Shade can sense me. They will be here soon and I
do not have the strength now to fend them off.


The warning was dire enough to warrant swift retreat but Ashtiel took a
moment to aim another, stronger kick at the crone's corpse, watching the
body flop to rest in a bloody heap before she made her way from the cave and
returned to Verminasia.




Writer: Yegigoth

Date Sun Aug 10 17:12:52 2014

To All Chaos

Subject Burn



His powerful stride was muffled by the dry dirt road, his gaze straight
ahead the beauty of the light forest lost on him. In the distance a small
village, typical of Arkane, from kilometers away the simple and predictable
nature of these simple villagers was evident to even the most casual of
observers. Small houses clustered around a central square, a tavern, and of
course the ever present temples of the archaic and ridiculous masters of
this world. But not for long, soon they would be toppled one after the
other and once burnt to the ground a new era would begin. And that would
start now.

Yegigoth ran his calloused hands over the worn pommel of his great sword
with a familiar caress. This was actually what he enjoyed, the scorching of
earth. Something resembling almost a smile passed across his tusked face as
the village grew ever more near.




Writer: Yegigoth

Date Sun Aug 10 17:44:04 2014

To All Chaos

Subject Burn



The scrawny mutt was chained to a post some distance from the back of the
house. The very idea of chains enraged him, and the world grew red.

Wrapping a length of chain around his forearm, Yegigoth ripped the chain
free from its mooring before loosing the hound. Length chain around his
right forearm and a heavy notched sword in his left, he shattered the door
with a booted foot.

Startled the middle aged man dropped his bowl of slop and stagger from his
chair towards the far door. Heaving his left hand back and over his head
and a smooth arc, Yegigoth launched his sword into the thigh of the fleeing
man. Collapsing with a heavy thud, the villager stared at his leg in shock
and disebelief as he was drug out the now shattered back door.

Wrapping a few lengths of chain around the now howling man, Yegigoth fixed
him to the post before whistling once sharply.

"you know what happens when a hungry beast smells blood? "

Yegigoth looked over his shoulder at the now approaching curr and back
toward the quivering mass before him.

"your masters have fed long enough, and now we are hungry"




Writer: Yegigoth

Date Sun Aug 10 21:30:39 2014

To All Chaos

Subject Burn



Turns out a dead man's soup isn't half bad. Yegigoth wiped his forearm
across his face and slid his half helm firmly into place before standing.

It was time to burn.

Snagging the two barrels of pitch he'd prepared, Yegigoth tucked one under
each arm and stepped sideways out the back door. The now full hound, looked
up at him lazily before sniffing and curling back up to sleep against the
slumped carcass still tied to the post.

In the fading light, Yegigoth made his way around the outside of the
village, applying pitch to each of the buildings he passed. Marking a "U'
around the town with the open end toward the road leading to the western
shore.

The scene set, and nightfall in full swing. Yegigoth returned to the vacant
home for a few torches, he was going to need light to do his work.




Writer: Tyrinx

Date Sun Aug 10 21:48:12 2014




Writer: Yegigoth

Date Sun Aug 10 23:59:22 2014

To All Chaos

Subject Burn



The first clangs of the village bell brought a smile to Yegigoth's face,
the reassuring clamour of predictable sheep. Several points of dark smoky
orange light were illuminating the night sky around the village. A wall of
cleansing fire, a sheperd for the lost sheep.

Set to push the villagers to use one path and one well, he laid in wait
while running a whetstone the length of his heavy bastard sword. The shouts
of the village people getting closer, Yegigoth stood and gave his sword a
few swings before stepping off into the shadows a few paces from the well.




The first went up and into the well before he knew what had happened, the
second cleaved from shoulder to mid chest with a powerful swing.

"I ask you now you abandoned sheep, for what do you give your prayers? "

Yanking his blade free, Yegigoth spun and brought his sword to bear in an
upward arc, separating leg from torso and sending another villager tumbling
to the ground. Screams of pain now mingled with those of fear and
confusion. Yegigoth looked up to the smoke filled sky howling in concert
with the cacaphony of the terror filled night.

"This is your future your fate, make of it what you will or join your gods
in ruin!"

The chaos was tangible, a coppery taste filled the air around Yegigoth as
the slaughter continued until they chose fire over blade.




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Mon Aug 11 00:53:02 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Seven)


"Really, Crillow. I don't know why you insisted on blindfolding me. I
know exactly where we are."


It had been several hours since the visitors from earlier had vacated the
tower. And it had remained unoccupied, until Crillow and Momoko walked into
the main entrance to the tower. With little more than the light of the
white moon shining through the windows, and the light of Crillow's torch,
the couple made their way towards the elevator. Once inside, the burly man
quietly closed the gate and pressed one of the many buttons near the exit.
Slowly, the grand counterweight of the elevator descended, causing to
elevator itself to begin its ascent.

"Now, how could you possibly know that?" Crillow replied coyly, knowing
full well Momoko indeed knew where they were.

"Well, I can feel the floor vibrating, and I distinctly sense that we are
moving upward. Now, I'm pretty sure there is only one such place in All of
Mart-Town, and I'm almost positive you had a hand in building it."


Crillow feigned a hurt expression, though it would most certainly go
unnotied to the blindfolded Momoko. He replied once again, coyly.

"Won't you indulge me just a little longer? We are almost there."

Momoko sighed in exaggerated exasperation, having a little fun herself. "I
suppose. But only because you're so good to me."


With a soft click, the elevator reached its temporary apex and ceased to
move. Crillow casually opened the gate and led Momoko towards one of the
stairwells. Swiftly, he swept the raven-haired woman up in his arms and
carried her up the staircase what would soon be the 97th floor of the tower.
Carrying her towards the center of the floor, where the elevator would soon
rise through, he gently placed her back on her feet and stepped back a
couple feet.

"Okay. You can take it off now."




Writer: Marian

Date Tue Aug 12 03:56:56 2014

To All Nordmaar

Subject Family Duty



The rain falling was assuredly cold, she knew that in the back of her she
were floating outside her body, watching someone else being pelted with
highland rain that was always cold, no matter the season. Mind. What
surprised her was the numbness that she felt, almost as if

A separate, guilty part of her tried to scold the curious part, but that
felt numb, too. She was certain that in the months and years ahead she
would be able to satisfy the guilty part of her with drink, but that was far
off, too.

With a deep breath she collected herself, smoothed out her darkly-colored
her family, simple fisherfolk, were not rich enough to afford a full set of
black clothing, nor were any of her neighbors that she could borrow one in
the right size. It was the best she could do to attend a funeral. Dress.
It was the deepest navy blue that she owned, but not quite black-

Her deep blue eyes re-focused on the image of her mother's cascet at the
bottom of that deep, dark hole that the village men had so dutifully
excavated to break the permafrost, ensuring that like All the other graves,
it would be unspoiled when the summer thaw returned next year to turn the
frozen dirt into mud. In what seemed like no time at all, the small crowd
had dispersed to the undertaker shovelling scoop after scoop of dirt into
the hole, the priest, and herself, pelted by the rain.

"Come, lass. You should nae stan' ou' in the rain, or yae will catch a col'
and bae joining your mother in the grave. Le' me fix yae a kettle of tea,
and we can discuss your new living arrangements. I knew your pa, he was a
goo' man, and I woul' bae happae to len' you a room until...

She turned and shook her head, casting her gaze past the rows of tiny wooden
crosses marking the graves of the poor, and down the wandering path leading
to the great kingdom of Nordmaar.

"Nae, father... There bae nothing lef' for me here. It bae time to go do
mae duty."




Writer: Aelysse

Date Tue Aug 12 08:52:09 2014




Writer: Kerram

Date Tue Aug 12 16:37:53 2014




Writer: Hoshi

Date Tue Aug 12 17:23:28 2014

To All Religion RP Imm Shokono Zandreya

Subject the shrine of water



By the light of day, she slides from the comfort of her modest tatami mat
to test her socks against the cool floor, every breath that she draws into
her waiting lungs touched with incense. Dressing quickly and sliding on her
sandals, she relinquishes the temptation of dreams, the warmth of covers,
for the day ahead.

As is required of her as the sunlight pools into the water shrine, the
preteen with the dark eyes sees to the curious visitors as they reach the
large, circular room of the shrine's common room, features doused in the
pale blue of the cheerily glowing orbs that are the room's only source of
light. Cupping her hands around one of the tiny spheres, she studies the
pilgrims, many from the continent but a few from shores that seem to stretch
endlessly from this place. They smile and default mostly to the older
priestesses, which suits her well enough. For when the sharp eyes of the
older priestesses are directed elsewhere, she presses handfuls of petals
into the hands of peasants who can't otherwise afford the offerings.

At twilight, the last strains of light lingering in the skies as they are
dyed pinks, oranges, and reds, Hoshi enters the room of meditation,
strolling between the visitors who are knelt in prayer. Her hum carries
with the chime that sounds through the quiet chamber. She does not find her
knees, does not pray, but leaves a handful of flower petals to fall unseen
upon the dark floor.

It is when darkness falls and the stars hang upon the firmament that she
pushes wordlessly through the gates of the shrine and through the cold
evening air, her breath expelled in puffs of white. Though the vortex of
water beneath the causeway churns unnaturally, bright and demanding of
attention, Hoshi's feet do not falter. Instead, she runs, feeling the
prayer in each sprinting step. The hill is precarious enough without the
ice and snow, but she laughs as she barrels down it and past the goats, the
foxes.

He sandals leave indentations in the deep snow and she continues until her
lungs burn, a smile stealing her lips. It is only when her lips are chapped
and is she is chilled to the bone, tiny snowflakes nestled in her dark
strands, that she returns to the shrine to find her knees in the heart of
the temple, before the reflective pool. Pale, porcelain skin seeming to
absorb the soft blue glow of the chamber, she bows her head in prayer,
before retiring to bed.

Wondering what lies beyond the blanket of white.




Writer: Isabel

Date Tue Aug 12 20:18:44 2014

To Kikko Branzol Justice All ( Roleplay Immortal Austinian Religion Nazca )

Subject The Priestess: Finding Peace [Part I]


Isabel turned on her side, unable to slumber. She kicked away the
blankets that had become tangled around her in her restlessness. It seemed
sleep eluded her even within the protected walls of the Wrath. The moon
rose high in the evening sky through her window and cast it's light upon the
floor. Isabel slipped from the warmth of her bed, wrapping one of the
blankets around her shoulders as she stepped out onto the cold floor. In a
voice barely above a whisper, she prayed for light and the candle at her
desk sparked to life, the warm glow filling the darkened room.

She sat down in her chair, tucking the blanket under her chin to keep it
cocooned around her body as she smoothed out the letter that laid on top of
the desk. Her mother wrote to her each month, keeping her up to day on the
goings on of her former home. As she always did, Helene asked her how she
was faring, if she had made any new acquaintances or friendships, and how
her religious meditations and studies were coming along. Isabel's dainty
lips curled up at the corners in a gentle smile. Even now in adulthood, her
mother worried for her as if she were still a child. This did not anger
Isabel, however. She was the only child of Edward and Helene Clere and they
had always treated her with great care and concern. She could not fault her
parents for worrying over her well being. It was why they had seen closely
to her tutelage within the Church of Austinian, ensuring she grew up having
the teachings of the Light held dearly within her heart. She was grateful
for this. More grateful than she might ever be able to adequately explain
to her parents.

Thoughtfully, she withdrew a piece of parchment from her desk drawer,
setting it beside her mother's letter. Isabel dipped her quill into the
inkwell beside the candle, taking care not to leave splotched marks on the
paper as she began to scribe her response. She wrote to her mother of her
first sermon, the one on the subject of perseverance that she held at ORB
Headquarters thanks to the hospitality of the kender Kikko. She wrote of
her visit from the angel that had spoken to her and bolstered her courage.
Isabel's hand paused, the tip of her quill hovering over the parchment. Her
thoughts had turned to the Executor and her promotion to sergeant. While
she had no desire to boast, she was happy that her service within the Wrath
was considered valuable and that she was trusted as capable.

Another thought brushed at the edges of her mind and she felt warmth grow on
her cheeks. She pressed a palm to her face and giggled gently as she
realized she was blushing. With a shake of her head she dismissed it and
began the next paragraph of her letter, the ink glistening upon the
parchment in the faint glow of candlelight.




Writer: Drew

Date Wed Aug 13 01:50:57 2014




Writer: Milleuda

Date Thu Aug 14 08:51:09 2014




Writer: Traice

Date Thu Aug 14 14:41:15 2014

To Marauders All ( Roleplay Tashio Immortal )

Subject |Culling of the Shieldlands|


Removing his bloodied helmet, Traice looked over the field. Forty or so
men lay dead in front of him. The majority of his host lay in reserve while
the 1st Marauder Infantry stood scattered throughout the field, cleaning the
blood from their weapons or taking what loot is rightfully theirs by
conquest.

The leader of the militia - Lord Tyrannus Bhuliovika - fought hard at his
restraints, pulling at each binding keeping him tied to the cross. His eyes
bore a look of pure rage, his body stripped naked. The nails of Tyrannus'
fingers were caked in gravy, his stomach swelling outwards. Each profanity
laced scream sending a wave of spittle flying from his pompous mouth. And
through All of this? Traice watched, calmly.

The villagers, after a time, could be seen peeking through the windows of
their huts, looking at their esteemed lord hung to the cross, screaming and
generally creating a fool of himself. Traice sat back, leaning against his
powerful ebony mare, picking his fingernails with his knife - waiting.
Watching. Watching the changes in the Lord's temperment go by throughout
the day. From hatred and rage to sorrow and despair. From crazed happiness
to the depths of madness. He watched.

'Why? Why are you doing this to me? We - we did not have enough tribute to
offer this year!
' the Lord finally spoke, somewhat defeated.

'It is not your place to withold tribute to the Marauder Army. It is your
place to serve, and in your service comes tribute. Your people look to you
to keep them safe. When you refuse payment and ally with rebels and scum,
you do not keep them safe. You keep them dead.
' Traice spoke, quietly,
his crimson eyes meeting the Lord's.

'The tribute was on its way! I swear it! '

Traice shook his head, a frown spreading across his lips as he climbed the
steps, reaching underneath his vambrace, he withdrew a small arcanium blade.
With his eyes lowering, Traice brought the blade up, slicing through the
flesh of the Lord - blood spurting from the wound, bubbling up at the base.
Tyrannus' eyes went wide with shock, as he attempted to gasp for air, each
pained breath forcing the air out of his throat, blood covering his naked
body as the life left his eyes.

Turning around, away from the crucified man, Traice addressed the soldiers
and citizenry gathered.

"Fort Ironclad has sworn throughout these long years to protect you. We
give you shelter from the cold, and funnel money into your province. We are
repayed by your betrayal. You think us weak. We are not. You think us
forgiving, we are not. We are not without mercy, as the rest of you will
not be touched. You will be brought back into the fold, and the gold will
flow in your pockets once more. Do not stray again.
'




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Aug 14 15:02:46 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Unexpected Guests" (Part Eight)


Momoko removed her blindfold excitedly, and gazed about the vast expanse
of the 97th floor. Crillow had since extinguished his torch, yet they were
by no means left wanting for light. She immediately noticed that the entire
perimeter of the floor was lined with dozens upon dozens of white paper
luminaries, set against the wall at regular intervals. She craned her head
upward and gasped in delight, seeing what appeared to be every star in the
universe, on diplay brightly above them. The full, white moon hung proudly
in the midnight sky.

"It's breathtaking! I mean, I knew it would be an incredible view and all,
but nothing could have prepared me for this!"
The raven haired lady walked
to the wall and peered over the side, unable to detect the distant lights of
the city, nearly a quarter mile below them. "I'll bet it's even more
impressive by day. Ixi'kweez wasn't kidding! I bet you really -can- see
the whole continent from up here when the sun's out!"


"Indeed, you can see most of the continent from up here, provided the
weather is fair."
The burly man replied nervously behind her, wringing his
hands unnecessarily. "Where we stand right now, is exactly one thousand
feet above the ground. I can say with reasonable certaintly, that at this
altitude, we are the only two people in the world."


"It's truly magnificent." Momoko said slowly turning away from the view of
the continent back to Crillow. "You All should be very prou- oh! OH!"

"That euphoria you are feeling, is but a fraction of the euphoria that I
feel, each and every time I think of you."


Momoko raised her hands to her mouth in utter shock, as she watched the
burly man lower himself to one knee and produce a modest yet stately diamond
ring from his pocket. She was at a complete loss for words, as tears began
to well up in her eyes.

"Momoko," the burly man began to speak nervously, "I have spent most of my
life, travelling the world, never staying in one place for long. I went
where there was work to be done. It had never dawned on me to live any
other way. Until that one fateful evening I tripped over Squeezums, and met
you. And now, I cannot imagine leaving you, Momiji, or this place, for
anything in the world. I humbly bring you to this wonderous place, and ask
for your hand in marriage, if you would have me."


The raven haired lady wept openly, throwing her arms around Crillow where he
knelt. "Oh, you sweet, romantic fool! Of course I'll marry you!" The
burly man returned Momoko's embrace, saying nothing, savoring the moment he
had dreamt of, one thousand feet up in the sky.




Writer: Speyburn

Date Thu Aug 14 23:11:05 2014

To Marauders All Thalimir Traice ( Tashio imm kwars rp Devion )

Subject Pirates in the Dark



Deception Bay lived up to its name in a number of ways. The tame waters
of the Roully Bab Bimb flowed into it, giving it a calm, temperate
appearance. This appearance was added to by the fact that the bay had a
narrow mouth, widening into a perfect harbor along southeast Arkanias
otherwise rocky coast. Though the bay was so shallow, full of sandbars,
submerged rocks and other objects, it was All but suicide for a larger ship
to attempt entering it, as the number of timbers, and tattered remains of
vessels both beached and jutting up from the water, gave testament to.

The narrow neck of the bay, which really permitted the passage of only one
or two vessels at a time was dominated by a large craggy, and steep
mountain. Fortunately, and the young Marauder officer had even sent scouts
to climb the mountain during the day to make sure, such a perfectly
defensible position was clear of any fortifications. The steep cliffs that
jutted into the sea, coupled with the rugged slope on the land side wouldve
deterred All but the most determined sieges or bloody assaults.

Instead the lady of the territory had chosen to build a keep just outside
the small fishing village and port on the opposite end of the bay. Though
keep was a generous term as it was really more a small manor, with its
fences seeming more designed to keep out the riffraff than to be defendable.
Though it did feature a heavy gate.

Captain Speyburn Fiddich studied the town from the deck of the Cutlass,
which was at the mouth of the bay alongside the larger warship Raptor. All
three moons shone down brightly on the bay from various angles, providing
illumination enough for the task at hand. The Lady of the Bay had been
neglectful in paying tribute or acknowledging the Forts authority and
sovereignty and examples had to be made. Young Fiddich really didnt care
for politics, but was eager enough to actually be doing something and not
only in command of his own ship, but a small fleet.

Speyburn gestured to one of his crew and nodded. A lantern was then hung
from the lower mast of the Cutlass, a simple but effective signal. Soon
enough the cannon of the large warship roared. The Raptor was firing at the
edge of her range, but it was still enough to reach the town. Moving any
closer would put her in the bay and a ship as large as she would likely join
the other ships in the treacherous graveyard of the bay.

A smaller scout ship like the Cutlass however, wasnt too much larger than
the fishing trawlers and smugglers skiffs that normally operated here and
sure enough, Speyburns flagship was making its way across the bay, keeping
to the known safe routes. The young Marauder captain had chosen to commence
his attack two hours after sunset. The fishermen would be drinking in the
taverns, any guards and militia wouldnt be alert, and any night fisherman
would already be gone.

As the Raptor continued to fire, mostly firing for effect, against the
rebellious Lady Merella Martianos manor, the Cutlass approached the docks of
the village unmolested. Her two guns barked quickly, firing grapeshot along
the docked trawlers and the village aiming more to confuse and disorient
than to cause any actual damage. Confident the dock was clear, and the
Cutlass approached bold as day, as if it were docking not under opposition,
though a few pistols, crossbows and blunderbusses fired off at any targets
of opportunity that dared venture too close.

As the ropes were tied to the mooring, the overcrowded decks of the Cutlass
began to empty and march towards the keep, eager for the prospect of looting
such a prosperous building. As Speyburn walked among the men, he couldnt
help but feeling slightly disappointed. Lady Merella was said to be quite a
looker, it was a shame she wouldnt outlast the night.




Writer: Traice

Date Fri Aug 15 01:45:34 2014

To Marauders All ( Roleplay Immortal Tashio )

Subject |Hanging at Fortwall|


Sweat dripped from the brow of the assassin as he scaled the walls of
Ragestorm Keep. Torches were lit off in the distance, guarding the outer
walls as he slowly but surely secured his place with each movement, nearing
his target's window. As his fingers gripped the worn windowsill, he pulled
himself upwards, mask down over his face, hiding his features, his crimson
eyes peered into the room.

Silently he rose through the window, rolling into the room silently. With
careful, deliberate intent he removed his grappling hook and secured it
around the leg of the massive bed and began to pull up the rope, fashioning
it into a crude noose. With a small turn of his lips upwards, he completed
the tying, letting it sit on the windowsill as he silently moved to the
large table sitting in the corner of the room - and picked the darkest chair
to sit in.

Traice waited for several hours, watching in the darkness as his prey slept,
stirring occasionally, but sleeping. Finally, as the light began to break
over the horizon, the man awoke. Sitting up in his bed, eyes caked with
sleep, he kicked his legs over the side of his bed. While letting out a
yawn, the man stretched his arms out, working off the hours of sleep.

Groggily, the Baron moved to his chamber pot, his nude body on display as
the rays dimly lit up the room. Traice stood. Slowly, silently moving
towards his prey. The only sound being the dull splashing made by the man
relieving himself. As he neared, the Baron seemed to sense something and
tried to turn his head - but too late. Traice reacted quickly, his stick
splitting in two - a razor thin arcanium wire connecting the two halves was
quickly draped over the Baron's neck, immediately slicing into his skin as
the assassin wrenched back on it.

The Baron spasmed, his feet kicking out - chamber pot spilling across his
floor as his feet slipped in the disgusting fluids. Blood poured from the
wounds, his gasping breath smelling like rotten meat and wine, his portly
fingers trying to grasp at the wire, but unable to even get a fingernail on
it. As the life slipped from his body, Traice's eyes, squinted in
concentration, knuckles wrenching back on the garrote seemed to let up. He
pulled the garrote off of the Baron's neck who gasped, finally able to wrap
his hands around his neck to ease the bleeding. Traice moved to the table,
reaching into his pack as he pulled out a long, crisp Marauder flag. As he
moved back to the Baron, now laying on the floor in his own urine, eyes
searching the mask for some sense of meaning to his death - Traice knealt.
His fingers moved to his belt, pulling long, rusted and jagged spikes from
each. A grin filled his lips, hidden by his ebony mask as his eyes looked
into the Baron's. With one smooth motion he pushed the spike through the
corner of the flag and with a quick jab, buried it into the Baron's shoulder
with precision. Severing the nerve endings in such a way that he lost the
ability to move.

After he completed this on the other shoulder, Traice reached down, gripping
the Baron by his matted, greasy hair, pulled him to his knees, leading him
to the window - his knee rose quickly, slamming itself into the jaw of the
Baron. His fingers quickly moved to the rope, grabbing the noose and
slipping it over the Baron's defeated neck. Before the Baron could protest,
Traice - while using the Baron's hair as leverage threw him out his own
windowsill, one defeated, breathless scream escaping the Baron's lips before
silence. No struggle, no spasming. Just a loud snap, and from then on,
only the cloak, biting back at the wind could be heard.

As Traice looked out over the Keep's courtyard, he watched as the Marauder
Army closed in on the keep, the militia throwing its weapons to the ground
as they submitted back to rule. - Fortwall had fallen.




Writer: Speyburn

Date Fri Aug 15 09:56:29 2014

To Marauders All Thalimir Traice ( Tashio imm kwars rp Devion )

Subject Storming the Keep



Storming the keep was anti-climatic in a number of ways. The six foot
high palisade that surrounded it wasnt the most formidable of obstacles, and
even if it were, the Raptors persistent canon fire had blown several gaps in
it, wide enough for the naval landing forces that Speyburn Fiddich led, to
simply walk through. The manor like keep had suffered significant damage as
well. A signal flare was launched into the night time sky to inform the
Raptor the landing forces were moving in, and to cease fire.

The townsfolk, and any militia among them had barely put up any resistance.
Most were going out of their way to stay out of sight of the Marauder
pirates, the demonstrating fire along the docks and in the city having been
more than enough. Young Fiddich wasnt inclined to slaughter the lot of
them, simply for the pragmatic reason of this province needed workers to
contribute to the common defense. A few had gotten in the way, and were cut
down, but so far his landing party was virtually unopposed, the surprise
nighttime attack having worked its charm.

The keep ahead would be different. If the Lady Merella Martiano had any
well trained guards, they would be there. Sure enough as the first men of
the landing party poured through the gaps in the palisade, the sounds of
steel being drawn, clashing and penetrating flesh rang through the night.
Speyburns staff caught one in the face, as he barely lost stride towards the
keep.

While some of the landing party engaged the guards that appeared to be
focusing their defense against the first squadron through the gap, others
moved about to form a perimeter to keep anyone from escaping. However most
followed the young captain into a breach in the keeps wall. It wasnt large,
so there would only be so many places that Merella could be hiding.

Eager for the prospect of loot, the pirates spread through the keep like
wildfire quickly turning the place inside out. An eager would be looter
found the hidden doorway behind a dresser, that produced the Lady Merella
Martiano. Sure enough, as reports said she was quite lovely and highborn,
dressing well above what one would expect to find in a humble fishing
village. It was a shame one so lovely would have to die, but orders were
orders

"This is an outrage! Ive been Lady of this province for the reign of five
Highlords!" The lady screamed out.

Well, my lady, you shouldve paid tribute to the sixth," Speyburn said in a
friendly voice, offering his customary carefree smile, "Any last words?

The ladys response was to cock her head back and send a stream of spittle at
the Marauder captain. Speyburn shrugged and gestured to the guards holding
her captive.

"Guess not," Speyburn said wiping the spittle off his face with the back of
his hand, Hang her from the balcony out there so All can see her fate.

He was hoping for a chance to spend a bit of time here before moving on to
the next mission, but things had already changed and they had business in
Darkenmoor. Theyd be setting sail at first light, while the bodies of Lady
Merella and her guard hung from the ruins of her manor.




Writer: Ghillena

Date Fri Aug 15 19:13:24 2014




Writer: Tahereh

Date Sat Aug 16 08:39:25 2014




Writer: Tkrif

Date Sat Aug 16 14:36:56 2014

To All Pickett ( Dragoth Cliath Imm RP )

Subject The Experiment



The uttered words escaped his lips as easily as a breath, arkane words
that were like a second language to the Duergan shaman, perhaps even his
first language. He imagined tendrils of brown-green vapor escaping his
lips, imbued with divine power, as they wrapped around the caged rabbit in
front of him.

; Instantly, the rabbit began to quiver and shake with weakness as its
muscle tissue began to break down, rotting out from the inside. He had cast
the spell of leprosy hundreds of times before, but this time his intention
was different. Usually, he meant for the spell to kill his enemy. Much
slower than the acid or lightning blast of a magus, the disease caused a
slow and painful death to the target. However, instead of just kill the
rabbit, Tkrif wanted to see what would happen after its demise.

He watched as the rabbit twitched and suffered, waiting hours until it
finally went through its death throes, scribbling notes on a yellowing
scroll of parchment. Digging up a small patch of soil, he buried the corpse
in a shallow grave.

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

Several months later, he returned to his makeshift laboratory in the forest,
retracing his old steps to the rabbit's grave. Beholding the patch of earth
where the rabbit had been untombed, he came upon something unexpected.

Admidst a patch of thick, green grass, another rabbit was feasting on a
clump of colorful wildflowers.




Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Sat Aug 16 14:55:54 2014

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

Subject Raising The Tower "Moving Day" (Part One)


"Alright, gentlemen. I'd like to thank you All for attending my little
impromptu early lunch meeting. Seeing as construction finishes up today, I
felt it would be only fair, that I give you a brief overview of how this is
going to work. As you can see, we've an awful lot of stuff to load into the
tower."


The board members gazed at the seemingly endless queue of wagons and carts,
leading from the main tower entrance, through the courtyard and down the
entire length of Dented Steel Neckguard Boulevard, upon further inspection,
it looked as if the procession stretched All the way back to the old
headquarters.

The hardhat wearing gnome continued speaking, as the board's eyes were glued
to the front of the queue. "We're loading the top floors first, then
working our way down from there. On each floor, there are workers with
rolling carts, ready to unload the elevator, and bring everything to it's
designated positions on the floor. We're only getting everything to where
it's supposed to be. It will be on the workers and managers to organize it
to their liking. While that is going on, we have a crew who as we speak is
raising the pieces of the roof, to cap the 99th and final floor. They are
doing from the rear of the building, as to not interfere with the loading
process. So long as nothing goes wrong, the process should be finished by
dinnertime. But don't spoil your appetite. The town has planned a huge
celebration in the courtyard this evening, for the completion of the tower."


"I have to admit, old friend," The elder kender piped up excitedly from his
seat. "This whole moving process looks like a logistical nightmare. But
you've managed to make it look simple. To think that everything in this
long line will be in the tower and ready to use in but a couple hours is
amazing! Hey! What's that tall thing under the tarp over there? There's
something shiny sticking out!"


"Shiny?" The Chairman's head perked up and focused on where Olliwac was
looking. "Ooooh! I bet that's my new statue!" With that, the Chairman
bounded over the picnic table they were sitting at, and hastily made his way
over to the cart bearing the object in question. "Hey, take that tarp off!
I want to get a look!"


The remaining members of the board converged on the cart as the tarp was
slowly removed, revealing a life-sized bronze statue of none other than the
Chairman. 'Statue Ixi' was winking proudly, dreadwood log in one hand, the
other hand giving onlookers the thumbs-up. 'Actual Ixi' turned around to
face the board, mimicking the pose of the statue next to him.

Thimtax attempted valiantly to hide the overwhelming urge to cringe at the
garish statue before him. Instead, he forced a somewhat impressed smile,
and the board followed his lead.

"Heyyy... That's great, Ixi! Let's get that thing into the tower right
away!"
The little gnome turned to the one of the workers in control of the
cart and whispered quietly. "Put that god-awful thing in Ixi's office."
With that, the statue was covered up once again, and the cart continued to
wait at the front of the queue for its turn. He then addressed the board
once again.

"Well, I suppose while we're here unveiling things, I have a little gift of
my own for the boardroom. See that huge blue tarp about twenty yards behind
the statue? Hey! Yeah, you guys! Lay that thing down on it's side, we're
coming for a closer look!"





Writer: Tkrif

Date Sat Aug 16 18:27:40 2014

To All Pickett ( Dragoth Cliath Imm Religion RP )

Subject The Hammer



The tool in his hand was a simple one, a stake of sturdy wood sanded and
polished down, a flat-edged piece of metal affixed to the top. The Duergan
hefted it in his hand, swinging it idly though the air. He felt the tool's
balance between its two parts, noticing how the weight was evenly
distributed, allowing it to feel light in his hand despite the hammer's
mass.

Tkrif new at least some of the many uses of the tool. It could be used for
construction or destruction, to break this apart or reassemble them. This
particular hammer, however, was designed to forge metal.

Ponderously examining the instrument, he jotted down in his journal:

"Mountains, towering statues of stone erupting from the ground, were
certainly hewn by Cliath himself. Like the blood of mortals, Mountains have
veins of minerals and metallic ores.

"Alone, a piece of orestone has no real use. It does not bolster the
structure of the mountain, nor does it have any magical or medicinal
properties. Only through the touch of a mortal can the potential of the
orestone be released.

"Under immense heat, the stone melts away, leaving only its glowing metallic
component. Certainly, these bits of metal, hidden deep within the skeleton
of a mountain, are like wrapped gifts from the Creator. Not an outright
gift, but one that must be discovered and worked toward.

"Once the stone and metal are separated, the precious material can again be
placed under heat and made malleable. Like clay to a sculptor, a hammer
such as this can be used to pound the metal into any imaginable shape, from
the simplicity of a nail or horseshoe to the exquisite complexity of an
ornate breastplate.

"Here, we witness the completion of a cycle. From components created by
Cliath, we have indeed created something ourselves, using the wisdom he
bestowed upon us when he created mortal life.




Writer: Mezlak

Date Sun Aug 17 17:28:29 2014




Writer: Mezlak

Date Sun Aug 17 19:38:51 2014

To Marauders Thalimir Traice All ( Tashio Imm RP Religion Storyline Raije )

Subject Teaching a lesson - Pacification of Wilderhaunt (Part I)



The sounds of battle were slowly beginning to fade. The battle had been
fierce but short. The horse slowly walked along the houses, his rider
carefully steering the beast among the dead on the path. Mezlak glanced
down at the bodies with near remorse on his face. This should not have been
their fate. Their strength should not have been wasted in this manner.
Slowly he approached the half dozen or so cavalry that stood guard.

On one side, two mounted soldiers stood guard over the townspeople who had
been forced from their homes. As Mezlak scanned the frightened people he
saw the cost of sudden removal. Most men and even some of the women had at
least one bruise forming on their faces. No small few of the number had
blood drying on their faces from deep cuts. Parents held screaming children
close, trying fruitlessly to calm them. Something that was impossible to do
when shivering and crying themselves. On the other side, two more soldiers
stood guard over ten former militia, now stripped of their armor and
weapons. Mezlak sighed. Once again, such a waste of potential strength for
the army.

Dismounting, Mezlak strolls to stand beside the man stripped to his small
clothes. His hands tied together were attached to the pommel of the saddle
of yet another of Mezlaks command while his feet were being bound in a
similar manner to a second horse. The prisoners body was covered head to
toe in scrapes, welts and cuts from being drug before the priest.

I have to say, Monterah, you and your men put up a worthy fight. Too bad
for you I didnt underestimate a former Marauder.
Mezlak nodded to the
mounted soldiers before continuing, signaling them to walk their horses in
opposite directions, stretching the prisoner between them. Therein lays
your crime. As a former Marauder, you above All other lords of the land,
should know about loyalty.


Mezlak then turned a slow circle, inhaling slowly before turning back
towards the prisoner now suspended above the ground. You swore The Oath!
He screamed as he kicked Lukas Monterah square in the ribs.

With another nod, a dismounted soldier placed a stone that he pulled from a
small fire beneath the suspended prisoner and places it on his chest. You
not only set up your own command here, independent of the Highlords, but you
raised arms, and commanded others to raise arms against your former
brothers. Brothers you swore to with blood from these hands.
The
statement is punctuated by the prisoners shouts as Mezlak takes a moment to
jamb a steel spike through Lukass bound hands. Mezlak then turned his
attention to the townspeople who were gathered. Most were trying to keep
from watching their former lord being tortured. The childrens screams had
lessened to barely audible sobs. None the less every single one was shaking
uncontrollably. Mezlak slowly walked up to the crowd and began pacing back
and forth as he addressed the townsfolk.

There is no need for those of you who didnt raise arms against the Marauders
to fear us. We know this rebellion wasnt of your doing. You dont blame the
students for a bad teacher.
Mezlak then turned and nodded again to the two
soldiers working over Lukas Monterah. Immediately they begin to pull out
his fingernails one by one. You will never need to fear. The Marauders
will protect you. Even from those who would lead you down a fatal path.

Mezlak finished, and turned back to his suspended captive. Slowly he drew
his sword, and sliced across Lukass s tomach. Mezlak then spun his prisoner
over face down, allowing his entrails to spill out into the fire beneath
him.

(End part 1)




Writer: Mezlak

Date Sun Aug 17 19:41:25 2014

To Marauders Thalimir Traice All ( Tashio Imm RP Religion Storyline Raije )

Subject Teaching a lesson - Pacification of Wilderhaunt (Part II)



Mezlak slowly paced back and forth beside his suspended captive. He
ignored the mans screams as he was cooked alive. Mezlak barely paid any
attention to the prisoner anymore. He despised people like them. Those who
would turn their back on those they swore to fight alongside. He gave a
disgusted snort anytime Lukas came into his sightline. Slowly Mezlak let
the man cook to death. Once he was sure the man was dead, Mezlak didnt want
to ease his pain any, he turned to his gathered soldiers, and started
issuing orders.

Dismember the body. Arms, legs, and body are to be displayed along
Hammurabis Path. His head is to be placed upside down on a spike outside
the gates. That way All know the price of betraying The Oath by raising
arms against your brothers. As for the rest of his men.
Mezlak slowly
looked over the captured fighters. Hang them from Ironclads walls.

With that Mezlak quickly mounted his horse, and rode off to rendezvous with
the rest of the Marauders at Boltof Hold in TPal-Mal, a pleased grin on his
face.




Writer: Traice

Date Sun Aug 17 19:50:39 2014

To Marauders All ( Roleplay Tashio Immortal )

Subject |Massacre at Mideel Port|


Traice moved silently, turning his head either way to ensure his troops
moved along with him. The only sound coming in this too-silent night, were
the rustling of leather leggings brushing across each other, or the subtle
jingling of chainmail as they move forward.

Something wasn't right. This was an encampment of fifty people, but there
were enough tents to support two hundred, and what's more, they weren't
here. Scouts only an hour ago had reported that there were fifty men here.
There were signs, of course - the campfires freshly snuffed. Meals
unfinished that lay around different fire pits. It was puzzling.

Traice frowned as they entered the camp, waving his hand down the line
signaling for his men to be at ease. And that is when he heard it. A sharp
whistling coming through the air, like a hundred small voices singing
together in tune. He noticed just too late, a shadow blocking out the moon
light as the sickening thud of a hundred arrows slammed into their targets,
he heard the sound of arrow piercing leather All around him, yells coming
from his men as they were brought to the ground. He felt the pain before he
heard the warcries. The sharp, piercing pain as an arrow embedded itself in
his shoulder - almost immediately followed by the warcries of two hundred
men, charging down the hill towards the encampment.

His men quickly regrouped around him as Traice reached to the arrow,
snapping it in half as the distinct ringing of swords being sprung from
their scabbards rang across the camp. Traice yelled out, as his men filed
rank and with another yell, began to charge. Breath came hard, and heavy.
The pain shooting down his arm blazing through him with each step taken.

Like a blast of thunder the sides collided, shields clanging against shield,
sword against sword. Screams of pain and terror rose up at times, terrible
shrieks filled the air. Traice stabbed, slashed, parried his way through
the forces, his own numbers dwarfed 2-1 by the opposition. Stab. Slash.
Parry. Stab. Slash. Parry.

As Traice cut and hacked his way through the enemy troops, he came to a
clearing in the battle. Standing before him was a mammoth of a being. A
Giant Ogre, adorned from head to toe in wicked bronze armor. Strewn around
it were bodies. Mangled beyond belief, limbs torn from their bodies, heads
plucked off of torsos. As Traice came into view, the ogre charged. Traice
dug in his feet and took off towards the ogre. As he neared, the Ogre
raised his massive warhammer and swung it down.

-----

Traice grunted to himself, holding his side, ribs broken, arrow shaft
sitting broken in his shoulder as he tugged his gladius out of the face of
the Ogre captain. He looked up to survey his troops, only six men remaining
from the hundred brought into the province. This militia was a little too
skilled for being farmers.




Writer: Speyburn

Date Sun Aug 17 20:27:13 2014

To Marauders All Milleuda ( Tashio imm rp kwars )

Subject Nighttime Rescue



The coast of Darkenmoor was a curious mixture of crags and rough beach.
As Speyburn Fiddich examined the coastline from the deck of the Cutlass, he
mused he wouldnt want to try landing in force right here. Though he wouldnt
have to, given most of the landing forces he had were left at Deception Bay
to keep the locals in line, and the rest of the men were on the Raptor which
should be scouting the enemy encampments further north along the coastline
at Stonecrag. Though there orders were open ended and if they saw an
opening they were to exploit it before reporting back.

The Cutlass was a small and quick scout ship, one of the smaller vessels in
the Marauder fleet, though Speyburn kept his flag there upon his promotion
to Admiral. His mission had already been changed as there was an agent in
this province overdue as he was informed, likely located on the beaches of
the coastline. It was dark and cloudy, so the moons werent providing any
helpful illumination tonight. Playing it safe, Speyburn ordered the ship to
keep a safe distance from the shore. The last thing he needed to do was
scrape an submerged rock or ground the ship in shallow waters.

Darkenmoor Keep was a small silhouette atop the higher cliffs in a position
to monitor the few beach lines on the province. Again it was too dark to
discern anything useful from this distance. There was nothing for it but to
lower a boat to sneak in and see if they could find their agent. A dozen
pirates, Speyburn included, began rowing their way towards the shore,
leaving only a scant handful on the Cutlass. Though they had orders to use
their cannon to take out any targets of opportunity and support the landing
party at need.

The landing part silently rowed through the choppy waters of the coastline,
and soon enough the ship hit the sand and the pirates jumped into the
shallow water, pulling the boat safely ashore. Lanterns were a risk, as
anyone in the keep above would notice them if they were alert, but from what
the Highlord said the defenses were minimal and so too was the risk. Being
able to see what they were looking for would outweigh the risk.

"Hey, Admiral, this her?" One of his crewman softly called out.

Speyburn took a moment to trot over there, and squinted his eyes as he saw
the unconscious form of a young elven woman breathing labouredly. Sure
enough he recalled seeing her around the fort, though couldnt recall ever
speaking with her being exchanging polite nothings maybe.

"Yeah thats her, lets get her out of here!" Speyburn said, lifting her by
one arm, the other crewman grabbing the other sand spreading her limp arms
over their shoulders as they began running back to the boat. A sharp thin
whistle signaled the rest of the crew who had spread out to look to return
as well.

A deafening roar of a cannon broke through the soft churning of the ocean
causing everyone to sharply jump, and soon enough the impact send sand
flying into the sky behind them. The blast had obviously come from the keep
on the cliffs.

"Lights out!" Speyburn shouted. He didnt need to tell them to run for it.


Fortunately the Cutlass was keeping an eye and answered the cannon blast
immediately with one of its own, apparently targeting the muzzle flash from
the Tower. As the landing party got to the boat and shoved off into the
sea, the keeps cannon seemed to be indecisive as if to fire on the landing
party or the ship. The Cutlass didnt hold any inhibitions about its target
as it lobbed one cannonball after another into the keep.

The crew rowed the boat like possessed men, eager to get back to the
relative safety of the boat. Speyburn wasnt a healer, but sang a small song
of healing over the unconscious agent that would hopefully sustain her until
they got her back to the Fort. A lucky shot from the Cutlass hit the powder
store in the keep, briefly illuminating the nighttime sky with a large
rising fireball. Soon enough, the boat was being hoisted back onto the
Cutlass and sails were being raised so they could be safely away.




Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Aug 17 22:44:22 2014

To Marauders All ( Roleplay Immortal Tashio )

Subject |The Scourge of Nigh'hold (I)|



It took less than a week for the Marauder 7th Infantry to make its
presence felt in Nighhold. The territory was hilly, a rolling country
dotted with several small mining villages along the way to its heart.
Flying the standard of the Marauders high, the priest stopped at each
village along the way offering Necrucifers benediction to those who would
have it and speaking often of their mission as an envoy to treat with Lord
Alistair Alnkrov.

By the fourth village just outside their final destination a large, heavyset
man wearing fine furs was waiting along with appeared to be half of the
town. Men, women and children were gathered in the square. Their ragged
clothes and gaunt faces stained black from long days in the mines. Telthian
raised his hand, halting the advance of the 7th as he proceeded forward
astride his nightmare. Always at his side, six figures in black plate
followed silently behind.

The rotund figure approached, wringing his hands and bowing low as the
priest came to a halt. "Knight-Templar Schwartz, allow me to extend a
welcome on behalf of Lord Alnkrov. He is most excited to receive you. I am
Martyn, his steward,
" Martyn smiled nervously, and extended his hand in
greetings.

Motionless, Telthian simply stared at the hand for moment before leaning
down in his saddle and grasping it firmly. A small smile played across
Telthians lips as he spoke, "Thank you for this warm and hospitable welcome,
Steward. Please understand I do this with nothing but the utmost of
contempt for men like you. "

Martyn's eyes went wide, recoiling but Telthian held him fast, his hand like
a vice crushing the delicate bones in the stewards hand. With a fluid
motion, Telthian drew a small crossbow from his hip and fired, the bolt
burying itself within the stewards gut. A cry came from the town just
moments after the stewards own. Telthian allowed Martyn to fall, then, the
man landing face down. Dismounting to stand behind him, the priest grasped
the man by his hair and drove his sabre deep. The platinum sabre penetrated
beneath Martyn's brain, smashing his jaw and silencing his screams forever.


****************************** Within Twilight Grotto, Lord Alistair Alnkrov
had just finished his evening meal of roast pheasant and retired to his
personal library. Usually his steward would bring him the evening tallies
from the mines and the two might enjoy a brandy before the fire. Instead,
he was subjected to the prattling of an uneducated servant whose name he did
not even remember. Alistair yawned, sipping his brandy and half listening
to the boy speak.

"... And finally milord, we received a chest of tri... Tribute sent ahead
by Knight-Templar Schwartz for Your years of service and a job well done. "
Snorting, Alistair directed the boy to place the chest on the table before
him, "About time those bastards in command saw fit to acknowledge All my
hard
work here. It isn't easy dealing with you inbred layabouts.

All color drained from the Lord of Nighholds face as he opened the chest and
looked upon the head his servant and friend of many years.
****************************** In truth, battle would have been an
overstatement. Lord Alistair's men guarding the walls of the grotto had
clearly never dealt with hellfire before. Tar and oil was one thing, at
least it could be extinguished. The more they fought and struggled to put
it out the more the hellfire spread and before long, the whole of the
battlement was burning and the soldiers with it.

The door to the Lords chambers were sealed, predictably, but an earth
elemental made quick work of them. The room was in complete disarray, a
sure sign that Alistair left in haste. Telthian picked up a candle,
lighting it with a word. As he searched, the flame flickered, near a
well-appointed bar. Smiling to himself, Telthian kicked a heavy rug aside,
revealing access to the tunnels below.

"The chase is on," he mused to himself as he took the first steps into the
waiting darkness.




Writer: Milleuda

Date Mon Aug 18 03:24:29 2014




Writer: Drew

Date Mon Aug 18 08:56:07 2014




Writer: Cheiron

Date Mon Aug 18 15:33:02 2014




Writer: Cheiron

Date Mon Aug 18 15:35:34 2014




Writer: Ashtiel

Date Tue Aug 19 19:38:10 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Six


I see you losing something very precious to you. A memory, as part of a
price to permanently break your affliction.


Farium's words replayed in her mind long after the spirit went dormant
inside her.

The excitement of the evening had left itself etched forever on her mind.
Her first encounter with a dragon, the killing of the gold had left her with
a traumatic sense of loss. The gravity of what she had done weighed heavily
on her. Enemy or no, there was an infinite sadness to the death of the
dragon.

She had stared into the eyes of the gold, pinned beneath its massive talons
on the warm stone of the volcano's floor.

The gold, Zalzachan had leered over her, searching for the spirit inside of
her even as he protected Ashtiel's body from being crushed. The dragon's
grin was one of sickening satisfaction when she finally sensed him.

'Ah.. Yes.. There he is I sense the fowl thing within you... I shall
enjoy ripping you both to shreds.
'

Whether it was the threat or the jarring shift of weight on her chest that
had woken her, Ashtiel wasn't sure. But in the moments that had followed,
Farium's magic had drawn every ounce of energy she had to offer, draining
the color from her hair, opening the wounds she bled from further. The
force of it had threatened to shatter her even as she had thrown her arm up
as Farium instructed and the shadows rose from her to feed off the beast
above.

She had stared into the eyes of the dragon, had seen the very moment when
the dragon realized she would die and that the shadows were siphoning her
life from her.

They fed from the dragon until she had become no more than dust that drifted
to linger on the cavern floor. The final roar of surprise rung in her ears
long after the dust settled.

It had taken some time for her to collect herself, even though Farium's
energy has restored her own and healed her wounds, even returned the color
to her hair. Finally, the threat of shades who were no doubt headed in
their direction had sent her back to the city to hide.

They had All the required for the journey. As the spirit slept, Ashtiel
studied the shard and the bottle and thought over what lay ahead of her.

It was almost time to make her journey.




Writer: Ashtiel

Date Tue Aug 19 20:24:05 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Seven


Her mind splintered, fractured deeper the further they traversed the
depths of the Hunger.

Even viewing this dreadful place with the protection of Farium's shadows did
little to reduce the trauma of witnessing and knowing what dwelled within.
For each moment that passed, the barrier that separated her mind from that
of the spirit eroded further and his memories assaulted her.

She felt his heartbreak at the rejection of Mahris, the woman he had loved
and whom had sent him to die only to enslave him in his undead form for her
servant. The woman who's soul they now searched for within the Void.

She witnessed the woman's selfish disregard for his life or the worth of it
when the woman had called him madly from his death and demanded he serve
her.

She felt his powerlessness to do anything other than obey the woman he loved
without fail.

Before anymore of his mind could invade her own, they arrived within the
Plane of Necrucifer. The putrid smell of decay lingered heavily enough to
turn the stomach but she swallowed the bile that rose and held her silence,
not wishing to draw attention to her.

The shadow armor around her hardened, forming into solid, mirror like scales
that reflected the black of the plane back upon itself, leaving the only
evidence of her presence the faint glow of Farium's green eye.

The bodies of those not given the luxury of death were dismembered and
crawling with imps who took great pleasure in biting their exposed entrails
and broken limbs.

The razor sharp ferns that covered the black nothingness beneath them made
no sound as they dragged along her armor harmlessly.

The demonic beings that moved around here did not see or sense her presence,
as Farium had planned. They moved together, forward until they saw what
they had come for, a woman's soul trapped over a vent of heat, burning
eternally to from whole to ashes only to be renewed that the burning could
begin anew.

The woman, Mahris.

Her eyes, just before melting for the third time in as few minutes landed
upon Ashtiel and she bucked against the bindings that held her, reaching
out.

Every set of eyes, including the large eye form of flying things within the
sky turned towards Ashtiel, though she was still cloaked from sight by
Farium's shade. All headed in her direction, moving without focus but
searching..

Get the shard out. We need to do this quickly. Try not to run into any of
them.


She slipped the bottle from her pocket and into her hand and bolted towards
the woman's burning soul, dodging around one demon and barely missing
careening off another with a deft dodge to the right.

Another lunge and she was there, standing before the woman's burning form
and the bottle was out, lifted up, touching the trapped soul only a moment
before the magic took hold and the woman's soul was sucked into the small
vial.

The task done, Ashtiel spun back on her heel. The path ahead was full of
demonic and unnameable things. They writhed in enraged anger and screamed
collectively. The loss of the soul had not gone unnoticed.




Writer: Ashtiel

Date Wed Aug 20 02:21:02 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Eight


The foul thing that emerged and blocked the exit was something the mortal
mind had no capacity to understand. Even the sight of it left a permanent
mark on her mind. The color draining from her. Six-legged and heavily
quilled, the tormented writhed within being eaten alive by the parasites.
Their screams alone where enough to chill the resolve.

What force had summoned it, Ashtiel did not bother to guess. The demons at
her heels whispered, shrieked, and screamed.. An army of hungry things
desperate to feed. The path before her was quickly blocked by this massive
creature of nightmares. No escape in sight, panic filled her. They were
going to be trapped.

Whatever you do, don't turn back.

Farium's voice urged her forward and she obeyed it, though she was
absolutely certain it would spell the end of them both. The suddenness with
which his energy left her was jarring, costing her step she could ill afford
to lose and she was only vaguely aware of the demon springing at her back.


She pitched forward, intentionally ducking low to let the demon shoot over
her and darted around it before it had a chance to recover.

The denizen sprang forward to attack Farium's growing form. Evenly matched,
the Shade-Spirit locked himself in battle with the beast and she obediently
kept moving, circling around the two as they toppled in her direction. The
ground shook beneath her.

The nexus was right in front of her, unguarded and she ignored the stabbing
pain in her feet, the ferns cutting at her as she ran. The glowing light of
the runes that held her nexus open reflected in her eyes before she
hesitated a moment to glance back and see the horde of demons overrun
Farium.

They covered him and the denizen as a swarm of ants, leaving only a writhing
mound visible to her sight. Hopeless to save him, she turn and dove into
the portal that would take her home.




Writer: Isabel

Date Wed Aug 20 07:07:21 2014

To Kikko Brunster Justice All ( Roleplay Immortal Austinian Religion Nazca )

Subject The Priestess: Finding Peace [Part II]


Pressing her finger along the parchment, Isabel folded her letter neatly
before holding the deep blue sealing wax over the candle flame briefly.
With a practiced hand, she pressed the melting wax to the missive and
stamped it with the seal of Justice. She smiled at her handiwork
satisfactorily and placed the letter on her desk. In the morning, she would
have it sent off to Althainia.

Isabel felt more relaxed. Writing to her mother was always cathartic, in
it's own way. She blew out the candle that had begun to burn quite low and
slowly stood up from her seat. The room had cooled even more since she
first woke up to write. Holding the blanket close, she made her way back to
the bed, swinging her bare feet back onto the mattress. They were chilled
from having been on the cold floor for so long. She shivered once and laid
her head on the goose feather pillow that waited for her. Isabel closed her
cerulean blue eyes and tried to fall asleep.

Sleep did not come.


--+---+---+---+--


The priestess sat up, peering out at the starlight through her window.
While she did feel better, there was still a restlessness tugging at her
heart. Isabel stood up, pulling a blanket with her as she turned and knelt
at the head of her bed. She lifted the amulet she always wore around her
neck to her lips and kissed the symbol upon it lightly. She closed her eyes
then and clasped her hands together, bowing her head reverently.

"Father Austinian, I come before you tonight seeking rest. Grant me this
blessing, so that I may better serve you on the morrow. Still my restless
soul, bring peace to my heart. In Your name, Amen."

Isabel smiled, readying herself to stand when she began to feel a heaviness,
a prompting. She returned to her kneeling position, folding her hands in
prayer once more. She whispered in a soft tone, "Father, I think this
restlessness comes from unfinished prayers that need asking. I shall do
what I must. Please, guide and protect my friend Kikko and her husband,
Brunster. May You light the way for their endeavors in rebuilding their
people's nation. Bless their marriage, and keep them strong in both faith
and in each other. Show them the direction they seek."

These heartfelt prayers continued to pour forth from her as she remained
kneeling before the bed. She prayed for the leaders of the Wrath, that they
might continue to have strength and endurance in carrying out Austinian's
work. She prayed for the City of Light, her homeland, and for her parents.
She asked for the Father's blessings to be upon those of Gareth's Keep. She
prayed for the elves of the Vallens that served and aided in the cause of
the Light. Words bubbled up within her in earnestness as she prayed for
their allies and All of the Light that remained scattered throughtout the
realms.

It was when her throat became parched and her voice hoarse that her prayers
finally came to an end. Isabel opened her eyes and smiled. The night had
passed and the dawn had come while Isabel had offered prayers to her god.
The weight and restlessness of earlier had completely left her. And while
she had not slept, she felt more refreshed than she had in a very long time.
Crawling back into bed, she laid there and contemplated the past evening.
When her eyes closed, she murmured very softly, the words almost completely
imperceptible.

"Bless them, Father."




Writer: Ashtiel

Date Wed Aug 20 22:37:02 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Nine


The switch between one reality of her existence and the other had always
been confusing.

This time was no different. As the world changed from something of
nightmares to one of quiet and she found herself standing within a ring of
fading runes in the street, Ashtiel shuddered for breath. The last demonic
shriek of rage at her escape cut off as the magic that had fed her portal
failed and the nexus snapped closed, Farium still trapped on the other side
of it.

In desperation, she knelt to the ground, frantically working to rewrite the
runes she had used previously. Without the strength of Farium's magic, it
was hopeless. She couldn't consciously open the portal alone. Still, her
hands rewrote the markings once and again before she beat futilely against
the stone with one fist, hurting herself but not caring.

Within her pocket, trapped inside the magic bottle, a small pair of fists
beat against the glass. The nudge reminded her of her task and she ventured
through the streets and into the graveyard before she tugged the thing
angrily from her pocket and gave it a frustrated shake.

Angry and travel worn, she held the bottle up before her as she paced. 'I
should just break it.
' She warned aloud and the small woman inside pleaded
with her not to do so. The panic in the woman's tone was enough to bring
her a hint of satisfaction. But the fear by no means touched the punishment
the woman deserved, as far as Ashtiel was concerned.

'He loved you. ' Her tone carried her frustration.

Mahris answered from the bottle, 'I loved him too, you don't know the whole
side of it.. Please.. Release me back into my body...
'

'Not yet. You trapped him without end. How do I know if I release you, you
wont do something stupid?
'

Mahris whispered, 'I... Can summon him... Please you have to believe me...
' The thumps of her tiny fists beat frantically on the inside of her bottle.


'If you lie.. I swear by All that is holy I will find a way to send you
back, even if I get trapped doing it.
' Ashtiel knelt to the ground and dug
the shard that housed the woman's body from her pocket. 'Never done this
before.. You'll have to bear with me.
'

Having no idea what she was doing, she began to sing the skald's song of
resurrection, commanding the spirit of the woman to follow her as she had
done with many others. She added verses, repeating the sound in a litany in
hopes that the new words would order the woman back into her body. This
magic was new to her, not how the song was meant to be used and as the
woman's spirit obeyed, she suffered from it. The shock of the transference
leaving her shaking and rocked with pain. Ashtiel watched the crystal of
the shard crumble and listened to her cry a moment before she grew
impatient. 'Enough. Bring him back now. ' She glared at the weeping woman
as she made her demand.

Mahris cried, 'Please, have mercy! I beg you. I am weak. '

'Lady.. I will kill you.. ' The threat dripped like acid off her tongue as
she stepped closer to the wailing, weak thing. 'I am All out of mercy. You
had none for him. I know it well. I remember it as if it were ME!
' The
anger bristled from her. The emotion was frightening enough that the
simpering Mahris uttered some words quickly to surround herself with a
protective barrier. They woman retreated to the edge of it in fear and
Ashtiel awarded her a grim smile.

Even now, despite her words of shared love, the woman refused at first to
bring Farium back from the Hunger. The refusal enraged Ashtiel further and
before long, she was screaming at the woman in anger. Mahris said, 'I love
him, but I am afraid of him. If you knew what he was capable of...
'

'I do not care. I gave him my word and I know. I know well enough, I have
seen it in my dreams. I care not. You bring him back NOW!
'





Writer: Brawnwyn

Date Wed Aug 20 23:03:53 2014




Writer: Ashtiel

Date Wed Aug 20 23:08:44 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Ten


Her voice shook with anger, the sides of her jaw set painfully with it as
she glared at the woman still hiding along the further edge of her
protective shied.

Mahris argued 'You don't understand, there's no promise he'll reform with
any of the same dispositions he has shown before. He could be a wholly
different person than you know.
'

Eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, Ashtiel took another step towards the
woman, 'I don't care. You bring him back and you free him from this
constant return. Maybe he is a monster. I do not know or care. But you
made him. You UNMAKE him now.
'

Mahris cried openly. The magic barrier that protected her from Ashtiel
began to fade, forcing the weak woman to utter another spell to maintain it.


Magic bottle in hand, Ashtiel held it out menacingly, 'I grow tired of this.
I will kill you. You bring him back now. You made him. You free him.
'
Patience gone, her free hand fell to the hilt of her sword.

The air crackled with energy as a figure faded in and out of existence.
Fabricating itself anew, the spell began to take shape and from it Farium's
features began to emerge.

As soon as he appeared, he fell forward and struck the earth with his face
bluntly, his armor and color weakened and pale.

Ashtiel shifted her stance. Her focus flitted between Mahris and Farium as
she circled to put an even distance between herself and the two of them, the
bottle held out as if it would defend her if Farium had returned some form
of monster. 'Help him. '

With a nod, Mahris moved over to him, kneeling and as she touched him, the
life drained from her and into Farium. His color returned and he pushed
himself up on his hands and Ashtiel forgot her fear for the moment.

'Did you make it through unseen? ' His first question was relieving. He
was himself, at least the version that Ashtiel knew him to be. 'You must
have, if anything had spotted you, you'd likely be drug back there already.
' Comforting.

Her eyes went to Mahris, 'Free him. '

Mahris looked to Farium with tears in her eyes," I'm so sorry. I never
meant for it to be like this.
"

Farium replied, 'I'm tired, and I hurt. I can't rest yet because of the
sins of my past. Once those are dealt with though, I wish to end my being.
How do I do that?
'

More excuses fell from Mahris's lips, empty words in comparison to All that
Farium had suffered and the speaking of them grated on Ashtiel's nerves.

Mahris finally relented, 'I don't know if it will work... But you need a
verse... And this...
' She held out an ominous yellow stone, dropping it
into Farium's hand.

'I don't understand what to do with this. ' He looked at her.

Mahris explained, 'It's an unsummoning stone. There's no promise it will
work but then there wasn't any promise you'd have become what you are now
either. Nothing is more powerful than even the softest whisper if the words
are filled with passion and feeling. And you need a verse to activate the
stone.
'

Farium dropped the stone into Ashtiel's hand immediately, 'I do not have the
imagination for such things. I need you again. Not today. Not tomorrow.
But some day when my fight is over, would you prepare a verse and send me
into peace?
'

'I will prepare one. When you wish it used, you will tell me? I will give
you the right to live and die as you wish. I believe you have had enough of
being controlled.
' Ashtiel cast an accusing glance at Mahris as she spoke
and the woman began anew with her apologies to Farium.

'You should go. I sense she wants to harm you. ' Farium glanced from
Mahris to Ashtiel meaningfully as he spoke, 'I don't think I would stop her
either.
' He turned his back on Mahris, physically rejecting the apologies
she had offered.

'I am behaving. But yes. I believe she should have her teeth rattled
around for her.
' Ashtiel admitted, looking at the woman as she spoke.

The woman didn't hesitate to make a run for it. She dashed behind Ashtiel
and out of the graveyard in a full sprint.





Writer: Ashtiel

Date Thu Aug 21 00:35:38 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Eleven


Ashtiel followed the fleeing woman with her eyes, smirking to herself
before she turned back to find Farium looking at her.

'I killed it. ' He finally spoke, the words carrying a hint of smile that
did not show on his heavily shaded face.

They brought to mind the monstrous denizen, drawing a shudder from Ashtiel
and she blinked, 'The denizen? That is impressive. '

'It had knowledge that you need, that I need, to live up to my end of this
trade. What binds you to your curse is not unyielding. There is a place I
must take you, and I do not know what will happen to you once you are there.
'

Ashtiel nodded quietly as he spoke and sank onto the same headstone she had
used during her original meeting with him, her hands running over her knees.
'What happens to you now? '

'I have a permanent host, one which has no soul so I won't destroy it if I
reside within.
' His answer was quiet. 'I still have work to do to prepare
the realm for the breaking of the seal cutting of the Shadow Plane from this
one.
'

They spoke a moment of that threat before Farium's glowing green eyes locked
on her. 'If you are prepared you may continue on and face your destiny to
undo the pack made that has cursed you so... I fear for your well being in
this.
'

His worry was palpable but what preparations could be made for such a thing.
She had already waited a lifetime.

He offered his hand and she took it. The squeeze of her fingers was either
meant to comfort him or herself. Which wasn't clear to her and she didn't
dwell on it.

'I can not see through the fog. This is All upon you now. '

She nodded silently, bracing herself for the unknown..

An inky blackness opened beneath them and they fall into it. The cold
emptiness of the shadow plane stung her skin to the point it almost
blistered and just when the threshold of pain was about to be surpassed they
emerge on the other side.




Writer: Calvissus

Date Thu Aug 21 01:11:57 2014

To Abaddon Kingdom Clan All ( Imm Roleplay Zypher )

Subject (The Healing)


Calvissus stood in the center of the pentagram, the room dimly lit by
candleholders set at the tip of each point of the star. He was nude,
completely. His burnt and mangled skin cracked open by the disease that
ravaged his body. Unable to stand straight he stood hunched, his breathing
more of a raspy wheezing. His solid black eyes opened weakly, gazing upon
the figure who stood with his back to him, working at the altar.

Next to Orlen laid a emerald dragon scale, shimmering in the candle light, a
small vial of blood next to that, and an obsidian forged chalice. Orlen
casually glanced over to the chalice, his hand engulfing in a holy fire -
the substance in the chalice bubbling like super-heated mud. It's
sludge-like appearance popping noisily in the chalice.

'Executioner. You have experienced a pain most could not fathom, and have
done it your entire life. Such is commendable, but I warn you. It is
nothing compared to what you will face now.
' the priest spoke.

'Jus' do aet.. Ah dunnae 'ave much toime lef' aen th's worl' withoo' aet.
' the pirate gasped out.

Calvissus skin was rotting away before the very eyes of those gathered, the
Countess watching amusedly while grasping the arm of the Count. His own
knees weak as the Priest approached him. Orlen smirked, his eyes looking
over the husk of a man before him as he reached out, placing his hand in the
center of Calvissus' chest, his hand engulfing in flames once more as he
spoke an incantation. The area around the hand began to boil, the skin
cracking as a pale light emerged, forcing Calvissus to his knees with a
wicked shriek. The Count moved behind him, lifting him up as the Crusader
nodded to Orlen.

Orlen's smirk vanished from his lips as he scooped the murky liquid from the
chalice with the emerald scale. He paused for a moment, considering his
options before reaching out - smearing the paste across the burning,
cracking skin of the Executioner. Almost immediately, the reaction began.
Calvissus thrashed in the arms of Deccan - the man backing off to watch with
a bemused look on his face. The skin bubbled, turning the color of lava as
it began to melt off his skin. His howling filled the chamber, emitting
from the old mausoleum and spilling out onto the streets.

Orlen continued, his hand placing over the skin of Calvissus - and then
applying the paste. Watching the man writhe in pain on the floor as his
skin melted. Even as it dripped or splashed to the floor like sludge
splashing across the ground, it sizzled, melting its way into the floor.
The only thing remaining of the Executioner was his musculature.

Orlen stepped forward, waiting until the last bit of skin had dripped from
the man's body as he held out his hands, a blackness took them, shrouding
the hands in mystical light as he uttered his words of healing. Every now
and then, dripping a bit of the vampiric blood from the vial over the
muscles, instantly turning pink as skin sprouted across his body, red - like
the skin when you peel off one too many layers of skin from your fingers,
and sensitive.

The Executioner laid there in shock, gasping for breath as he laid in his
catatonic state. He heard whisperings which sounded like the Inquisitor and
a woman, and felt himself being risen by magic, floating through the air.

Sometime later, Calvissus awoke, his disfigured, horrid skin which he had
known his entire life - gone. Replaced by fresh skin. Making him whole,
and free of his arcane poisoning.




Writer: Liviya

Date Thu Aug 21 05:10:39 2014

To Verminasia Tashio All ( Imm RP Religion )

Subject The Haunting of Verminasia: Echoes of the Past


The Queen's fatigue, mental and physical, was something she blamed
on her pregnancy. That was easier than admitting that she was getting
old and tired. Ageless flesh made it easy not to consider how old she
really was, but some days, her mind felt eighty, and she guessed it
wasn't far from the truth.

The birth of Aliera Snowdragon's children meant that Gwendalen MacLeod
would have been a great-great-grandmother were she alive. That was
daunting in a way she could not describe. She remembered the scandal
that had overtaken parts of the world when Branzol was born. What an
ass he had grown up to be.

That wasn't even considering other events of the world. She remembered
Tief as a Priest and Grumf as a Bishop. She remembered when Abaddon
appeared from the swamps. She remembered when Launy ruled Arkane and
when Fastia ruled New Thalos. She had no idea how many generations of
Shalonosts had risen and fallen in her lifetime. Who was the Speaker
when she was young? Thanatael, maybe? She wasn't sure.

There were some still living beside whom her own life was laughably
short- friends and enemies of her Father's from an era she had only
read about. Humans who somehow remembered the Purist Wars. Firstborn.

Liviya therefore blamed her old, decrepit brain when she ascended the
stairs to the throne room for some blessed peace and quiet and found
a woman sitting in her chair.

She wasn't a ghost. The Queen knew this because she recognized her.
She was also most definitely not really there. Her form was translucent
and hazy, and though she was younger than the woman Liviya knew, she
gazed out from the throne with a hard, intense expression.

Liviya cleared her throat. 'Lady Del'neth?'

There was no reaction from the specter, though a moment later, she rose
and crossed the room to the window, where she gazed out unseeingly at
the city below.

Liviya followed. She took up a place at the opposite side of the window
and followed the figure's unseeing eyes to the street below. In this
peculiar moment, she expected to see a different Verminasia laid out
below, the guillotine wet with the blood of the latest victim of King
Isadore's whim. Instead, she saw only the sleepy city she knew: same
vendor selling popcorn on King's Way, same slum lord dodging demands
for basic sanitation, same moat monster.

When she looked back at her ethereal companion, it was just in time to
see the figure fade away into nothingness. Liviya was alone in her
throne room, gnawingly hungry and possibly delusional, given what
she was already unsure she had witnessed.

There was no whiff of perfume in the air, no cold spot when the Queen
went to sit on the dreadwood throne that dwarfed her. There was instead
stillness. Liviya closed her eyes. Whatever she had seen, it was not
something to go telling.




Writer: Thaydius

Date Thu Aug 21 23:28:53 2014




Writer: Ashtiel

Date Fri Aug 22 00:42:09 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Twelve


The sense of loss and death was overwhelming, filling her with pain and
despair she had no armor against.

In the nothing there was a sword, a wicked blade surrounded by tendrils of
evil.

'Farium.. '

It took her a moment to manage his name and as he retrieved the corrupted
blade he looked at her once before driving the sword into the nothing,
cutting it away. The dark peeled back as if it were a curtain, drawn away
by unseen hands for the pedestal that rose in front of them. At it's
center, a dark jewel pulsated with an ominous light.

'It's not too late, if you wish to turn back. ' He waited for her reply.

Her eyes on the jewel, she swallowed heavily before asking, 'You know what
memory it will cost?
'

'I do not. ' His eyes followed hers to the pulsating stone and returned.
'I can only promise I will not leave you. '

'What do I do with it. ' She gestured to the stone and looked at him
questioningly.

'Present yourself to it. It is an omni-presence... '

She approached the stone warily, uncertain what it would yield and glanced
once back at Farium before she took the final step up to it.

What is your wish?

'I wish to be freed of the bind that returns me to Necrucifer's realm. '
Her voice carried, sounding hollow to her in the emptiness that surrounded
them.

A binding can only be traded with another binding of equal worth. To
destroy one you must destroy the other as well.


'What is it you wish in return then? '

Place your palm onto your heart and your other onto the crystal of fate.

Her hand rose to her chest obediently but her other hesitated over the jewel
and she glanced solemnly at Farium before letting her hand fall to close her
fingers around the crystal.

The crack of thunder rose around them as the power within the stone invaded
her mind, every cherished memory that made up the whole of her was displayed
on the multi-faceted surface of the jewel. It began to spin, building a
heat beneath her fingers.

'Ashtiel... ' Farium's voice reached her as if from a distance, the worry
it conveyed lost on her. She stared blankly at the stone, watching the
faces and memories spin past with wide eyes.

Her body wouldn't respond to her. She couldn't release her hold on the
stone, her fingers were frozen to it even as it spun in her grasp.

Woe unto you mortal. Fate is cruel indeed, but freedom must be paid for
through suffering.





Writer: Ashtiel

Date Fri Aug 22 01:09:06 2014

To Nymaya Reklah Dimidus Verminasia All Cahlizna IMM (RP)

Subject Dark Dealings: Part Thirteen


Agony. It was sudden and All encompassing and it filled every corner of
her consciousness. The stone sought the single thing that mattered most to
her and began to tear it from her heart and soul, ripping it from the very
fabric of what made her who she was and she was powerless to stop it.

'Stop it! You're going to kill her! ' Farium yelled.

Her destiny has been woven long before this day, you pathetic imagined
thing.


Held in thrall, Ashtiel gave a tormented, suffering scream and Farium lunged
forward, trying to project his spirit into her.

A deafening crackle of energy exploded from the stone, webbing itself around
him just inches from her and he fell to his knees. His hand found her leg
and he weakly tried to force his energy back into her to break the bond
between her and the stone. His face twisted in a sudden expression of
sadness as he looked up to her, the realization of an option enlightening
him.

Just as she was about to lose what mattered the most to her, Farium reached
into her pocket. His fingers curled around the unsummoning stone even as
his other hand lifted to the pulsating gem that spun madly beneath Ashtiel's
hand.

'... Take it... '

The pulsating and spinning gem slowed down beneath her hand and there was a
sudden break in the agony that held her trapped.

'No... Farium! ' She tore her eyes from the stone and looked desperately
at him, shaking her head. 'No. '

Accepted.

The unsummoning stone faded to dust within Farium's hand and for a moment
was reflected in the pulsing surface of the jewel before the light
extinguished.

'No! What did you do? That was your freedom? ' Her eyes tore madly from
his face to the jewel and she wrapped her hand back around it. 'No.. It
wasn't his price to pay.. It was mine. Mine!
'

The blast of energy that met the touch of her hand lifted her, tossing her
and Farium into the air a great distance from the pedestal as the gem of
fate sunk back into the dark cloak of the shadow plane.



 


Dark


Dark & Shattered Lands (DSL)
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