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Writer: Altacas
Date Wed Feb 28 10:20:32 2024
To Slayers Mantoron Cayenna Raije All ( Imm Religion RP )
Subject The pilgrimmage for Faith
The days had begun to run together and the faces he had seen and spoken with
melted and merged to form a single face. This face seemed watchful and ready
with piercing eyes and large horns. He realized the likeness was that of
Raije's statue in the Holy Room of Greystoke. He shook himself awake as the
thought seemed to resound with an audible click.
Realizing He had fallen asleep on the deck of the Silver Bass and the click he
had heard was likely one of the crew adjusting the rigging high above him, he
smiled as he wiped the remaining crumbs of sleep from his eyes. It was early or
it was late, either way he determined it was time to wake up and eat. Grabbing the
top of a nearby barrel, he hoists himself to his feet and stretched for a moment.
Tilting his head to the side and looking left and right until he heard his spine
align with a soft crack. He stared out from the deck, searching the dark sky with
his slate gray eyes, the hints of green reflecting the bright stars intently
staring back at him.
The ships crew worked busily around him as he walked the starboard side of the
vessel towards the bow. From here he could see the twinkling lanterns of the Port
of Althainia. He knew the Silver Bass had to be near the continent as they had set
sail from Arkania what seemed almost a week prior but he knew that was an
exaggeration. He felt as though he had slept most of the voyage and rightfully so.
He had traveled Althainia to Icewall and then to Arkania in search of Raije's temples.
He had met dwarves and humans in the churches on Althainia, minotaurs in the Kingdom
of Ganth, Priests of many races in the churches on Arkania. However, he now headed
back to where his quest had started. Where he initially began to comprehend his own
understanding of faith and how he had previously approached it, how he had served
Raije, what he thought was correct and just in the name of War. Most recently,
where he began to question his efforts and his own worship. It had never occured to
him that there were more paths to Raije and that an alternate path would be where he
should be walking.
Growth through experiences and conversation, he determined to be the catalyst. He
had met many people since joining Greystoke. Every one of them worshipped with
personal elements, however, those personal elements seemed to stem from specific
paths. Those of gold alignment, those of evil intent, and those who walked between
and offered balance. Everyone he had met walked one of these pathways to Raije.
Everyone he had met and learned from had developed a deeper understanding and
connection with Raije beyond their path. Courage, Loyalty, and Victory. The three
tenets of Raije. He could see how each path led to these tenets and how each path
interpreted them. He smiled, recalling a conversation he had with Mantoron, the High
Clerist of Greystoke, prior to his departure. His smile faded to a smirk and he
laughed to himself.
This pilgrimmage had done wonders for him and he believed Mantoron knew it would.
There had been a glimmer in the minotaur's eye when he relayed the news of the
pilgrimage. He had seen battles and groups of men surround a single. He did not
partake in many of them, however, he had joined the losing side of each in an effort
to even the odds and glorify the moment by prolonging the excitement of battle. He
exhaled, casting his eyes out to where the lantern light of the port had blinked and
could now see forms scurrying up and down the docks. He turned from the sight and
headed below deck to gather his belongings.
He would soon be home, his back against the sealed door of the Sanctum. He had not
heard much, if anything, about the Manor while he was away. He looked forward to
seeing the Highlord, Captain Tremere, Lord Shrike, the Slayer, and many more.
Writer: Drogan
Date Wed Feb 28 15:12:01 2024
To All Darkonin Imm Mencius
Subject Rise of the Bear Tribe: Wolfsong
Drogan, shaman of the Bear Tribe, had returned to Darkonin ages ago and
lingered amongst it's caverns. He had left his tribe of northern Icewall to
learn more about the Mountain. Over time he had seen kings and queens rise
and fall, he had witnessed the pikes paraded through the streets, and
watched the citizens drift away. Now, as the debris was cleared away, he
had seen the new king fall to the Mountain's wrath. The coal black eyes of
the ogre watched them cart the unconscious king away. Silver haired head
raised into muted respect as the body passed him.
The Mountain Spirit Speaker, an old goblin shaman, had claimed the kingdom
needed a new leader. Drogan felt the time was ripe to bring the people back
to the old ways but to do that, he needed to journey home and claim what he
had left behind. It was time to return to the village of Ormatrug. Using
his spear as a walking stick, he began the slow descent down. His journey
would take him across the fields of ice, north through the destroyed kingdom
of Gruntz, and finally into the valley of Uxikorik.
WOLFSONG
It was night when Drogan began the trek across the fields of ice. The howls
of the wolves greeted him but he carried on using the stars to guide his
path northward to Gruntz. His heavy form crushed snow, ice, and rock as he
moved across the fields. Footfalls leaving divots behind him. However the
ogre's mind was elsewhere.
"Drogan! You spear is too low! " yelled Ogluk. "Lift high, pierce heart
of prey or you become meal. " Ogluk smacked the ogre child in the back with
the butt of his own spear. Drogan lifted his spear higher to the same
position as the other ogre children, the pain radiating up his back. They
had formed a circle in the village center thrusting their spears into
enemies made of straw and wood as the old hunter instructed them. From a
young age, ogre children learned the ways of hunting and killing. It was
how they survived in the harsh climate of Icewall.
Some of the other children chuckled under their breath and received a
reminder that Ogluk did not take kindly to distractions as the spear came
down on them as well. "Keep stabbing! " The children returned to their
work, stabbing into the practice dummies. As the afternoon turned into
dusk, Ogluk sent the children home but one child remained. Drogan had
stabbed his wolf into bits, a hole forming in the wood that would have been
the heart. The anger was in him, anger at being reprimanded, anger at the
laughs of his peers. The anger gave him strength.
Ogluk stood behind Drogan and grunted his approval. "Rage is the bear's
power. Rage make you strong. " spoke the hunter and turned away towards
the warmth of his hut. As the cold rain began to pour, Drogan continued
until his hands were numb and his breath could be seen in the cold air. His
blood however ran hot.
So entranced was he in his thoughts that he did not notice the pack of
wolves surround him until it's alpha was growling before him. The Ice
Plains wolves were white furred with blue eyes. The alpha was larger than
the rest with a gash of missing fur on his flank, signs of his fight for
dominance. Drogan readied his spear but did not unsling his shield. At
this display of aggression, the alpha made it's attack as the other four
flanked the ogre.
Raising his spear, the shaman went to stab alpha but the thrust missed it's
chest, grazing it's white coat but enough to make the wolf miss it's mark.
The wolf on his left, a skinny thing, pounced but was caught mid jump by the
throat. Drogan slammed the wolf down with a sickening crunch as the life
was crushed out of it. The other three wolves attacked his right side and
back bowing the Ogre under their weight. However with a gutteral chant, the
translucent spirit of a wolf rose from the corpse and began to assist the
shaman in his fight.
Writer: Agarwood
Date Wed Feb 28 16:14:03 2024
To All ( Sebatis Admin Religion Imm )
Subject Circles of Cogitation (1/2)
Few places of worship please Agarwood as the Magnetizing Circle does. That may
also be due to there being very few places of worship dedicated to the Young
Master Sebatis, but if there were more temples, the Circle would remain his
favorite. The quartz pillars, the sparse decor bearing no trace of comforts to
distract from one's thoughts, and the mysterious magnetizing hum All aided the
arboren in his exercises to digest, interpret, and commit Sebatis's precepts
to memory. The Deacon wandered about the room following the outermost surfaces
of the quartzose pillars, pausing in word, motion, and thought only to listen
to the hum.
"It is He who presides over magic for magic's sake. He and those who follow
love magic even in the absense of additional purpose. Our love for magick is
unconditional and it is valued for its own sake."
The hum returned. Agarwood froze in place and waited for it to dissipate, then
he continued, "Neither the Light, nor Darkness, Nor Balance could sustain the
world alone. With All of these, share His gifts and His words as is fit. Keep
an open ear toward the thoughts of others, as they too compose the world. The
world cannot hope to survive if it falls to any extreme. Each has something to
offer and, conjoined, they compose the world."
"Power remains with those who command it. Fear it, and it rules the holder.
Crave it, and it eludes the seeker, as water from a clenched fist. Those that
reach and grasp at power desperately are the ones in power's control. To be
powerful is to have mastery over one's self, even in the pursuit of growth.
An obsession with power can hinder one's ability to obtain and maintain it."
"Control over magic is essential. Protect it from those who would manipulate
it without mastery. Those who use His gifts muyst be conscious of the impact
of magick. To do otherwise perverts and endangers. Those that wield magic
must hold a high degree of control over it, for improper handling can have
lasting negative consequences. Guard against the misusage of magick. Wielding
magick without mastery has a corrupting influence."
The hum returned. The Deacon inhaled slowly as he collected his thoughts,
yet leaving them blank and plain. He could feel this hum deep within his heart
wood and it left an impression on him. When the hum passed, he pressed on,
"His gift of Spirit exists in All mortals and incites All acts of purpose,
whether it works to honor Him. Respect the Spirit that flows toward a goal,
even if it drives the acts of a foe. There is a shared spiritual essence that
connects All living things. This commonality is the gift of Spirit that drives
us forward in a direction unique to each individual's unique compass needle.
To be true to your motivations and beliefs is to honor Sebatis. Respect the
motivations and the individuality of friends and foes alike, even in times of
conflict."
Writer: Agarwood
Date Wed Feb 28 16:15:37 2024
To All ( Sebatis Admin Religion Imm )
Subject Circles of Cogitation (2/2)
"Those driven by the command of oneself honor the spirit that He has bestowed
upon us. The obedient are not forgotten, so long as they act with All of their
heart. Those driven by their inner calling or sense of purpose act with the
full gift of Spirit bestowed by the Young Master. Honoring the gift of Spirit
means living and behaving true to yourself. Let the wisdom of others guide
your actions and influence your Spirit, but never let them dictate what shape
it should take."
"Waste neither the moment nor the blood of His pious. A hidden dagger is secret
only once. Seek balance between impulse and patience. Actions should be taken
purposefully and not flippantly. Be mindful of the transience of secrecy and
the inevitability of truth. Find a balance between action and mindfulness to
consider the appropriate time for engagement."
The arboren placed a hand on the cool surface of a quartz pillar. He could feel
the hum gathering in the air and, soon, it was upon him. He closed his eyes and
allowed it to wash over him. When it waned, the Deacon continued, "Love Him and
His magick in the fashion of your own spirit. Worship Him in the method of your
comfort and He shall be pleased. Appreciate and love both magick and the Young
Master in the unique shape of your spirit. Let it represent the unique form of
your devotion. Be comfortable in this, knowing that these shapes and forms can
differ from yours and change just as you do."
Writer: Milleuda
Date Thu Feb 29 20:00:30 2024
Writer: Cid
Date Tue Mar 5 12:04:23 2024
To All ( Austinian Admin Religion Imm )
Subject A Knight's Quest
In the heart of the formidable Gareth's Keep, amidst its towering walls and
shadowed corridors, there roamed a solitary figure. Cid moved with a
deliberate grace, his footsteps echoing softly against the ancient stones
beneath his boots. Each room within the keep held secrets, whispers of
forgotten tales whispered through the ages. And it was within these chambers
that Cid embarked on his clandestine quest, his purpose known only to
himself.
Room by room, he traversed the labyrinthine passages, his senses attuned to
the slightest disturbance. With a careful hand, he would move a tapestry
aside, press his ear against the cold stone walls, and listen... In the
relative silence of night at Gareth's Keep, every whisper carried weight,
every rustle of fabric held significance.
Yet, the object of Cid's search remained elusive, a mystery patiently
waiting to be solved. He sought something precious, something hidden within
the very depths of the Keep's ancient walls. Each room thus far had yet to
yield unto him the clues he pursued.
As the hours stretched into morning, Cid's determination remained
unyielding, his resolve unwavering in the face of uncertainty. Though he
seemingly made no progress, he refused to succumb to despair. For within the
heart of every knight lay a flickering ember of hope, a flame that burned
bright even in the darkest of nights.
And so, as the sun rose over the horizon and cast its rays upon the
weathered stones of Gareth's Keep, Cid stood alone in the quiet embrace of
the castle's walls. His spirit remained undaunted, his courage unbroken.
With a solemn vow upon his lips, Cid turned to face the new day.
Writer: Lavinah
Date Thu Mar 7 17:48:57 2024
To All ( religion rp immortal dragoth cliath )
Subject A Return to Reading
She hated this library.
No, not the library itself. The library was magickal, vast and simply
inspiring. She had spent moons here many times, researching the rose,
history, and many other things in time. Now, she looked for any clues on
the creation of goblinkin, as asked by the new crown of the Mountain.
It was vast, more books than she could ever read, even with the lives of
many elves, and her quick pace of reading.
No, it was not the libary she hated. It was the confounded maze and balanxi
magicks that kept her from finding it for hours. But, eventually, she did.
And there she prayed, asking for guidance and luck in finding a suitable
work, something to steer her tale to tell when the King called for it. If
such a record did exist detailing the creation of goblinkin, it would be
here, in Cliath's own wing of the library of the balanxi.
She simply wished to not bleed on any of the books from her wounds getting
here.
Grabbing a stack of books - being careful to note their shelf and order for
when she returned them - she began paging through each, resisting every urge
to stop and read the countless topics that piqued her interest.
There would be time to return in the years to come. For now, the expanse of
the pantheon, and her service, was her focus.
Writer: Lavinah
Date Thu Mar 7 22:05:42 2024
To All ( religion rp immortal dragoth cliath )
Subject Reading and Reading and Reading and...
She looked around with sigh and dropped her shoulders. She was tired, an
odd feeling for the woman.
Her Lord had given her many blessings: the swarm's presence in her arm, the
tattoos on her skin, and perhaps the most curious - removing the need to eat
or drink.
A curious side effect was that she was rarely tired and did not need to
sleep. Which had the further effect of adding to her already notable
irritability and making her terribly bored. And while she would enjoy a cup
of tea from time to time, it never sat quite the same in her stomach.
Still, a blessing. If her mood needed to be more vile and cruel she was
certainly willing.
But here, perhaps due to the overwhelming presence of creation and it's
lord, even one tied so closely to hers, or the sheer amount of books she'd
thumbed through... She was exhausted.
One thousand, four hundred and seventy two - and not a dent in this
library's wing made.
She new this well enough, her years here earlier barely got through a full
shelf. And while there was no doubt the answer was here, somewhere, finding
it was surely a fool's errand and she was gladly playing the part.
She closed her eyes and thought about anything else for a few moments and
her mind jumped a thousand different directions, freed of the shackles of
just one more book which was never the last.
And like that, she picked up the next: a heavy, thick tome that she thumbed
through in a few seconds. And the next. And the next and the next...
Writer: Lavinah
Date Fri Mar 8 09:14:52 2024
To All ( religion rp immortal dragoth cliath )
Subject ...and reading and reading...
One thousand seven hundred and twelve:
A History of the Avacado Stick. Seven hundred and twelve pages.
Two thousand and ninety three:
Blacksmithing. A tome so thick she could barely lift it.
Two thousand nine hundred and thirty two:
Bugs The Feed On Tree Leaves. She'd quite like to read this, another time.
Fourteen hundred pages.
Four thousand two hundred and eight:
Untitled, a cage to hang a child out a window. Near three thousand pages.
Nine thousand five hundred and one:
The Candle. Perhaps the most important creation that she had stumbled upon
so far. Four volumes, each larger than the Blacksmithing tome.
She slid to the floor, cross legged and read for a bit to simply clear her
mind. And candles seemed as good as option as any.
Writer: Asrar
Date Sat Mar 9 17:44:27 2024
To Abaddon ( All Imm rp Xenophan )
Subject Betrayal
The demon pulled back from Asrar, making itself unknown to her. The elf
and her ogre have betrayed it. It steps from its cave in to a plane of
mountains and stone. Twighlight claims the plane, imps smarter than their
instincs give it a wide birth. {u'Asrar is mine, He cannot have her. It
grabs a passin imp. Opening its jaws wide, nearly splitting its face in
two, it sucks the spirit from the imp, devouring it. Tossing the limp husk
aside she roars into the twilight.
If he wants her, he will pay a dire price. Asrar is its portal to the
mortal realm, and it will not give that up without cost. Returning to its
cave it begins slipping its claws into the wild elf known as Asrar,
strengthening its hold on her. He will not take her from it.
Writer: Asrar
Date Sat Mar 9 17:57:04 2024
To All ( All Imm rp Xenophan )
Subject Betrayal - Wrath
Deeper into Asrar the demon plies its many claws, seperating the spirit
from the mortal. Memories of pain, of suffering; shame and loss. Grinning
wickedly it pulls the memory, claiming it, devouring it. {uAsrar the
Betrayer. You are mine, yet you forsake us. ' It works tirelessly, imps
baying close by sensing the demons change of focus. The demon must finish
before the ogre and his mortal ritual, if not, if its hold on the elf is not
strong, it will be successful and the demon will... It does not like that
thought and banishes from its mind and continues its work. Minutes turn
into hours, each passing moment weakening it but it pushes on entwining
itself into Asrar.
Writer: Piknim
Date Sun Mar 10 19:36:27 2024
Writer: Piknim
Date Sun Mar 10 20:02:35 2024
Writer: Lavinah
Date Tue Mar 12 22:40:13 2024
To All ( piknim religion rp immortal dragoth drakkara )
Subject Broken
She stood before the kender, one she once considered a friend, and took
the insult. She would take many more before things were through, she
assumed, due to the posturing, the need to impress, and perhaps cowardice.
But it was also failure. Hers.
It was time to turn her eye to herself, to find the cracks, and the let the
swarm flow into them. Whatever he past might have brought, whatever she
might have achieved, she now saw - no, felt - her failure taking root more
and more each day.
The distain, the ignoring. The cold. The lack of interest, the lack of
voice, lack of progress. She knew this feeling well, she had been here
before. The last time it ended in her death. This time, if it came to
such, perhaps the Mistress would let her stay dead.
Like a book, so many that she had read, she would try to turn the page,
curious. This is what she believed, these trials make you stronger, or they
cull you.
But there were dreadfully few pages left to turn and it appeared as they had
already been written.
And this time the ending was certainly a whimper, not an explosion.
Writer: Lavinah
Date Fri Mar 15 14:42:31 2024
To All ( religion rp immortal dragoth )
Subject Broken II
She got lost.
One of her favorite bits of magicks, and *poof!* she was somewhere new,
somewhere she'd likely had never been and hopefully somewhere where she
would be left alone.
What was first a sickly mix of anger and sorrow had now become simply
sickly. And this was worrisome because she hadn't eaten in months. So, the
churn that started in her stomach was now quivering across most of her
chest.
There, in a forgotten guardhouse, where the only guard on duty slept off a
drunken bender - or the overworking of some Lord - she pulled her knees to
her chest and muttered the prayer her mother had taught her, although she
hadn't a clue to why.
"Aeli si cxe lsssel vziaei lxeie le zia lv sepe asa leec zr le rzc ee'icsi'
lv sepe 'ess e'' ce rseee s xza z keccse e' k'iv'iav lsie lv sepe rxe asa
iec iiel re seesreiea cxzc aezi ssccse vsis ei cxe kziir kesel
Which, roughly translated, was about poisoning the one you love because
they fell asleep at the wrong time and you got bored and drunk.
How perfectly fitting.
Writer: Lavinah
Date Fri Mar 15 18:48:43 2024
To All ( religion rp immortal dragoth )
Subject Broken III
She rocked, knees pulled close to her chest, as if she was making herself
smaller and hiding from the world.
That did not matter when the guard woke. After a moment of disorientation,
he yelled something at the woman, about intruding and not being allowed
here.
In normal times, with her wits, a word would have slain the man, his corpse
falling to feed her Lord. But she had no fight, no will, and simply looked
up to the guard as he poked his halberd at her. A moment or two more, and
maybe, finally, gracefully, it would be over.
And then she coughed, uncontrollably. And a few bugs flew from her mouth,
to the guard's horror. Her left arm pulsed, perhaps sensing this, and she
convulsed, uncertain what was wretching inside her stomach.
It was only a moment of wonder.
She heaved, attempting to vomit. But no sickly green brown spew came, as
there was nothing to expel from her stomach. Yet she lurched, her stomach
churning, as the guard panicked, brushing away the fly that landed on his
arm.
Then, suddenly, a flow of insects, flying from her mouth as it stretched
wide, crawling out her nostrils and pushing agaist her cheeks as she
shrieked, silently, a flood of wings and pincers and thoraxes swarming
towards the guard.
He was gone, devoured in a moment. And she rocked, unsure of what happened,
if it even did at all, as the churn in her stomach gone along with the
remains of the guard, the room now empty except this elf, making herself
tiny in the world.
Writer: Lavinah
Date Sat Mar 16 08:02:30 2024
To All ( religion rp immortal draogth )
Subject Broken IV
She rocked, back and forth, back and forth.
She had become less sure of where she was, if not less certain of everything
at all. The guardhouse seems to stretch, to pull, the sleeping guard
sometimes there, sometimes not, and sometimes screaming, being devoured by
bugs.
Her neck spasmed, causing her head to twitch. Occasionally, she would cough
and something would crawl out of her mouth or nose, or fly out for a few
moments. She could feel their tarsus under her skin in her arm more clearly
than ever, now over her chest, in her throat.
In front of her, His cycle played out ad nauseam, the guard sleeping, being
eaten, rotting only to be sleeping again. And while she did not remember
moving, she'd see herself over him, spewing insects from her mouth at times,
a flicker in her eye like the torch on the wall. And, rarely, it would be
her on the ground, being eaten away, a swarm of maggots devouring her flesh
while she also was kneeling above, the swarm flowing into, and out of her
mouth.
Her mind flickered and what she saw changed, the guard screaming.
And she just rocked, pulling her knees closer to her chest.
Writer: Lavinah
Date Sun Mar 17 18:46:25 2024
To All ( religion rp immortal dragoth )
Subject Broken V
She threw up today. Or maybe it was yesterday, she didn't know.
Her eyes shut a moment as she rocked, it might be seconds or days when she
opened them again. And while it could be explained away by magicks, she
knew that wasn't the case.
It was her, getting lost in her own tiny world.
Except the guard, sleeping away, confused her. He barely stirred, but she
could hear his breath, the slow measured pace sound of sleep... That was a
constant, or her mind was making it so.
So she decided, in a moment, to examine him. And she stood, confidently,
nearly fully, before collapsing to her hands and knees, retching. Her mouth
opened wide and insects poured out, spilling onto the floor of the
guardhouse, a scream in mandibles and wings. Her left arm, where He had
gifted her, pulsed and quivered, and the spew stopped as she collapsed
forward, now on her side and pulling her knees up to her chest.
Then she remembered her grandmother, singing her to sleep.
ssccse ksiav, ssccse ksiav
Eele rsiv le ve'i reiv
s'pe z rxeic csle ce ke xeie lscx ve'
zia z seiv csle ce ke veie
She had such a short time to be here, but ever so long to be gone.
Writer: Aescyprium
Date Mon Mar 18 02:11:20 2024
To All Imm Religion RP Taliena ( Tarabella )
Subject {pTough Love : {nDesert Edition
{oCopper wings skimmed through the light cloud coverage beneath the
moonless desert night sky. After resting for the day and practicing the new
feeling of scars upon them, the {oCopper rose from their lair and took to the
night sky, looking to hunt down the remaining bandits that had attacked so
vehemently upon the caravan route. That had hurt an innocent elder dwarf
and for what? The coin and wares in their cart?
The {oCopper and a handful of Champions of the Realm had defended and beat
back the bandits with little to no true injuries themselves. A small
miracle considering the number of bandits. Those from Arkane and Verminasia
came to the call for aid and together, both Light and Dark worked to protect
grandfather and grandchild. A reward was not even proffered before hand as
far as the {oCopper knew. Yet they worked together and put themselves in
harms way to protect strangers, to protect innocents. Compassion can be
found in many places, the {oCopper mused to himself as eyes designed to hunt
in both day and night caught the light of a campfire in the distance.
Slowly the {oCopper lowered closer to the ground and identified a group of the
bandits that had fled from the walls of the Desert Jewel. With narry a
sound the {oCopper flew by and unleashed the gas that filled the air sacs
within their chest. Before the bandits knew it they were actions were
slowed and their legs and arms felt like lead. Another pass and the {oCopper
released the acid within their belly, deluging the area in it. That was
when the night erupted in the screams of the bandits, though their cries
were short lived as the {oCopper came back around and let loose the entirety
of the acid chamber within their body. Nothing but an acid etched crater
remained moments later, steam rising up from the still disolving sands.
Without roar and without words, the {oCopper rose back up into the air on
scarred wings and hunted once more. It is said that for a week after the
caravan route was the safest it had been in a long time. All thanks to the
{oCopper.
{n******{o*************{o*******{n******
The old man smiled as the children got up from the campfire in the middle of
the caravan and found their respective families with a few of them flapping
their arms like wings as they did so. As the old man reached for his pipe
and tobacco a young man caught his eye. He was clothed in desert robes but
underneath armor gleamed in the firelight. Plated armor of copper scales.
He spoke not a word as he himself stood up, his eyes of molten copper
catching the firelight.
"{oShukran lak 'ayuha alshaykh. " was All he said as he turned and strode
into the desert night.
Writer: Lavinah
Date Mon Mar 18 10:38:05 2024
To All ( religion rp immortal dragoth )
Subject Broken VI
She woke up to the sounds of guards shouting at her. How unpleasant.
She wasn't sure that she was sleeping, or for how long. It had been years
since she slept and now, her consciousness coming back to her amid the
bellowed threats, it felt like she had been alseep for decades.
Her eyes fluttered a moment. A spear poked at her chest.
Pushing back to the wall, she forces a small bit of space. The guards paid
her little mind, past that of an intruder - the woman was frail and broken,
although a few wondered uncomfortably how she got here in the first place
then just... slept.
Sliding up the wall, she braces her back there, unable to yet summon the
strength to hold herself upright and raised her eyes slightly. Eight
guards, All with pointy, sharp, worthless weapons.
'Ve' lsss iec lzie sc cle rceer celziar le.' she whispered, which none of
the guards could understand, but they certainly felt the shivers down their
back at the bile dripping from each word.
Then she speaks another, unholy flames igniting each guard, their screams
strengthening her as she stands full, her skin stretching to refit her body,
her bones cracking as they reset in place.
And she left the guardhouse, ignoring the guards pleading as they burned in
a plague ridden fire.
Writer: Vyasa
Date Tue Mar 19 14:44:59 2024
Writer: Eleric
Date Tue Mar 19 23:10:37 2024
Writer: Eleric
Date Tue Mar 19 23:15:23 2024
Writer: Aliera
Date Thu Mar 21 00:34:32 2024
Writer: Aliera
Date Thu Mar 21 00:34:59 2024
Writer: Rundelhous
Date Thu Mar 21 18:21:31 2024
To All Knighthood Taliena Imm Religion RP Aliera Pardo
Subject Flowers for Algoron
Rudy sat on the edge of the mesa and looked out towards the rising sun
as it crested over the horizon. This was his favorite time of day when the
sky turned burnished orange and red and the promise of new possibilities of
Hope came with the light, where the sun basked Algoron with its warmth of
presence alone. On his side a hempen rope hung down over the edge, bunches
of flowers tied to the rope with little knots. He had traveled across the
realm looking for the best of each type of flower. Four bouquets of peach
roses scraped together in the gentle morning wind the heat of the desert
having dried them quickly. Even from the bottom of the line he could smell
the potpourri fragrance of the roses. Above them were tied the lilies, the
pinks and whites slightly muted but still beautiful in their appearance.
Lastly, above them, the lavender hung in one singularly large bouquet
looking just the same but the stiffness of their movement in the wind belied
the fact they, too, were dried out.
He clapped his hands on his thighs and grabbed the rope, pulling the
flowers up. He split each type in half and gently crushed half into a fine
powder, filling three wood bowls full of crushed rose, lily, and lavender
flowers. The other half he strung together, careful not to knock any dried
petals off. Over both he knelt and bowed his head in prayer.
{oBlessed Mother may these help in beating back the Darkness that seeks to
lay claim to the realm. {oMay Your grace and love protect those who need it.
May Your Compassion fill these ingredients with {oYour essence so that those
who are lost in the Dark see the Light. May Your Love fill these reagents
{owith your essence so that those who repent will know Mercy. I give my own
essence that binds me to this {orealm to join with Yours. Given life through
Your essence and grace, so do I return what is needed to {oempower the magics.
Willingly do I sacrifice.
Writer: Lavinah
Date Fri Mar 22 15:40:57 2024
To All ( religion rp immortal dragoth )
Subject Broken VII
She had regained her control. Mostly.
To anyone who knew her well, she was not herself. There were moments, even
hours, when she could focus and align the pieces just right. And she was
starting to learn what things would pull her different directions.
And her head ticked randomly to the side. That was odd.
Like the spider, now unbalanced in it with the stalks of the flowers each
strand connected to, her mind fluttered quickly in off directions. At
times, her homelands, joy in watching her grandmother dance or, as a child
crying as the thunder rumbled the ground itself. Others, servant,
respectful and much herself. And there was the deeper pull, the one now
moving from her arm to her chest, and the pain it brought.
This was, at once, terrifying and beautiful - a haunting image that would
not let go. And it was her place, perhaps soon, perhaps not. But now, for
the first time, her soul had touched it and it was addicting.
Her mind kept wandering to the rose, All those moons ago, attached to her
calf. This was not that, at all, but it had the same bite to it's touch and
felt so much like her home she missed dearly.
But yet... her reach was stretching further each day.
Writer: Penelopina
Date Sat Mar 23 15:53:26 2024
To All Knighthood Taliena
Subject Flowers for Algoron!
{pThe service was a pleasant enough one. While small, it represented
strong faith {pand the devotion of those who sought to make Algoron a brighter
place. If that {pmeant funding an orphanage or providing relief during a
diaster, so much the {pbetter, though tonight that meant an evening of prayer,
contemplation, and {preflection.
{pTo focus their positive energies and harness their good intentions.
{pPurified salts warding off evil had been a time honored tradition for
hundreds {pof years, and was still used by people by throwing a handful over
your shoulder {pto frighten away wicked spirits. So drying flowers and
purifying them to use {pfor such seemed like a worthwhile endeavor. The
temple, which always had a {ppleasant sort of odor thanks to the Tropican
coast nearby, now was filled with {pthe thick and cloying aroma of so many
roses, daisies and lilies that the Knights {pand their allies had brought from
across Algoron. Penny herself had managed to {ppick a few summer flowers and
bluebonnets to add, blessing them on behalf of {plight and love.
{pAccepting a bowl of dried flowers from Aliera, Penny stepped forward to aid
{pin the blessing, whispering the words of forgiveness and gratitude.
{pWith the dried flowers and salts sanctified, they were ready to place them
{pin key locations across Algoron, their next step in defending against the
{pmachinations of evil.
{pWhen the Lady Shield invited her to end their gathering in prayer, Penny
{pfaltered but a moment, but quickly composed herself and came up with
{psomething suitable, clasping the empyrean tear-shaped brooch she carried
{pwith her always.
{p'Gods of Light and Goodness, please hear us... We give thanks to you for
your many gifts... For life and love and joy to be found in this mortal
realm. We pray for the wisdom to know what path forward to take, and the
courage to see it through. Amen. {p'
Writer: Cid
Date Sat Mar 23 16:03:56 2024
Writer: Cid
Date Sat Mar 23 16:11:54 2024
Writer: Maccus
Date Fri Mar 29 21:45:20 2024
Writer: Maccus
Date Fri Mar 29 21:48:49 2024
Writer: Maccus
Date Fri Mar 29 21:48:52 2024
Writer: Vyasa
Date Sat Mar 30 16:19:10 2024
Writer: Eevelline
Date Mon Apr 1 01:19:50 2024
To All Drakkara Imm ( RP )
Subject Down Below: {uLost In The Underdark ( 1 )
'I hope you're happy. ' A voice rings out from an abysmal darkness, that
only has distant glows scattered about at odd paces. There are further
sounds within this darkness, the sound of running water and the plinking
sound of droplets hitting stone. Soft scratching can be heard further on
down in this cavernous umbra.. It's origin unknown.
A purple glow gleans along the stonework, it's origin likely close to the
ground from the size and haze of such illumination. A mass of flesh is
highlighted at one of it's edges. Something slaps this flesh, the ripple of
the impact making it jiggle and smash up against this stonework. 'Very
happy, very happy, very happy.. Food.. Food.. Hungry.. ' Scent, begins
to take form- the metallic tang of blood.. Damp air, water thick with
minerals and other earthy detritus.
Eyes open, surveying the area around. There are stonework ruins, vines,
moss, and stars alight in the sky. Air is pulled in with rapid motions,
breathing quickened by whatever visions these may be. The eyes are dilated
now, taking in the area as if it were only sunset instead of the inescapable
darkness that time carries. This being is alone, unless she wished to count
the spiders and other creeping friends that exist within this place. Other
friends may be further off down the ruins.. But she would not know at this
time. The eyes close, looking for respite once more.
Time passes, and a low whisper fills the mind, turning shrill with every
second of increasing volume. 'Give.. Give.. GIVE! GIVE! ' The dissonant
scratching returns, though it's rhythm has quickened now- it too.. Grows in
volume.. Something moves closer to the origin of this vision.
The low glow of the purple hue shifts position, no longer highlighting
flesh- it does not carry further on into the darkness as this creature looks
for a culprit to these words. This being cannot find what it looks for..
Something is missing. What replaces any sort of sight by light, is a soft
psionic thump. It travels outward, the eyes of this creature following it's
unseen path into the void of this cavern. The cascade of this subtle thump
highlights the cave walls, stalagmites, water..
The thump finds what this creature is seeking.. And it is small, hunched
over, careening toward it's target on All fours. Our witness to this
encroaching creature shuffles about.. A limb reaching out toward this
creature. A rippling twitch courses through her figure as flickers of
lightning form at the dirty fingertips. The sparks dance along this
creature's fingertips, before coalescing into a subtle bolt that leaps off
toward the shambling gremlin. It illuminates the area, the being, and
ultimately collides with a grinding of arcana into flesh. The victim does
not shriek, nor cry out.. It simply passes from the shock.
-------
That selfsame twitch jolts Eevelline awake, and she leaps up as fast..
Almost as bestial as she can. Teeth bared, dilated eyes seeking anything in
the organic twilight of her own condition. Her breathing returns to that
heightened state- rapid motions and the exchange of new air into old.
A crooning voice fills her mind as she begins to calm herself.. Bared teeth
slowly covered by a passive expression. 'You will never leave again, worm..
Never again. '
The gnome takes in her surroundings, almost in disbelief that she is where
she is.. And then she settles back down to sleep. Moss does not grow this
way in the Underdark.. Yet perhaps a portion of herself remains down below.
Writer: Lavinah
Date Mon Apr 1 12:47:55 2024
To All ( april fool drakkara piknim )
Subject The Delivery: A 2024 Piknim Story
'{pBaby, Baby, Baby, Oh like Baby, Baby, Baby, No.' her phone chimed,
one of the dozens of mid-2000's songs represented on her phone. This, the
Biebs, was reserved for the greatest events, the most important:
TropicaFarms deliveries.
Today was the day. Her UltraBlack Cauldron had arrived.
Her lily-white eybrows arched with excitement and she stood on her desk, no
longer caring about Mrs. Whateverhernamewas and if she wanted to buy burial
insurance or the new TropicaFarms timeshare opportunity.
'I QUIT!' Piknim shouted, for the fifth time this month, into the din of the
call center. No one heard her. And they wouldn't have cared if they did.
She darted to the elevator, and hit the subbasement button repeatedly, the
elevator lurched down the ten floors to the TropicaFarms living quarters.
She looked down the hallway, saw the massive box blocking the hallway and
Piknim grinned irrepressibly, shaking her hoopak with excitement.
There was no chance of fitting the box through the door. So the kender
clapped her little hands together and started ripping through the packaging.
One box, then another. A special $49 TropicaFarms bubble wrap layer. Then
another box. "Some Assembly Required" instructions tossed to the wayside.
And finally, after seven layers of packaging, there it was, in ALL it's
glory: The UltraBlack Cauldron. It. Was. MAGNIFICENT! she squealed,
and suddenly knew it was worth the 360 month payment plan. Plus residuals.
It was smaller than she expected. And far more plastic. But she KNEW this
was the missing piece, the secret ingredient to finally get her Essential
Vial of Otherworldly Oils (EVOO) business off the ground. Once she started
brewing she could get her OWN subscribers and their residuals. And maybe
make some of investment back.
Piknim dragged the cauldron through the door, aligning it with the rainbow
glow of the dozens of crystals centered in her studio apartment. The glow
was magical, like a kiss from Drakkara herself. She grabbed her stepladder,
and a bounty of ingredients, her topknotted head poking over the edge of the
cauldron.
Pouring the contents of three jewel encrusted perfume jars into the
cauldron, Piknim watched with barely contained excitement for the first
reactions, herbs and oils at the ready. As the bottom of the plastic
cauldron melted away, the kender sighed, lightly, sure she must have done
something wrong and cursed herself under her breath over the discarded
assembly instructions. And now her livingkitchenbathroom smelt horrid.
Then she dialed TropicaFarms at 800-747-6331 to order another with super
express shipping. And this time, the $1999 metal-ish upgrade.
Writer: Piknim
Date Mon Apr 1 15:55:37 2024
To All ( april fool Dragoth Lavinah )
Subject Management: A 2024 Lavinah Story (1 of 2)
The TropicaFarm building on Arkania stood tall and pristine, a monolith
to market forces wrought of glass, steel, and stone with gaudy green and
gold accents. A mob of protesters crowded every corner of the skyskraper's
manicured grounds like a swarm of angry ants. Many held aloft signs in
print bold enough even for aloof executives in the upper floors to take
notice. Their grievances, whether legitimate or perceived, were many and
varied.
"Save the Great Forest!"
"Bring back Balifore!"
"Bodrum Did Nothing Wrong!"
"Nerf Kender Witch!"
"Make Althainia Great Again!"
Security officers on motorcycles split the crowd to make way for a vintage
Cadillac, dark and chrome and foreboding, to pull alongside the courtyard
steps. A chauffeur opened the rear passenger door and a willow-thin dark
elven woman emerged, dressed in a tailored black and green pinstripe suit.
She held an opera-length cigratte holder of ebony and bone betwixt
spider-like fingers and carried a plain black briefcase. As security
escorted her to the front doors, journalists buzzed with questions and
pressed in from All sides.
"Miss Nether'vyr! Miss Nether'vyr," a wily hobgoblin with an oily combover
shouted, extending a microphone as far as his lanky arm could manage,
"This is Elementa'lz reporting for the Broken Parrot! As Assistant Director
of Research and Development for TropicaFarm Arkania, can you confirm or deny
TropicaFarm's involvement in the crotch rot epidemic at an Althainian
military outpost on Zaven Island?"
"Utter nonssensse."
"What about rumors that recent incidents of spontaneous combustion are tied
to nitroglyscerin in TropicaFarm's Easter Surprise chocolate eggs?"
"No comment."
"Miss Nether'vyr! What about the plague of giant dire locusts in the Great
Forest? Many people are saying that TropicaFarm is responsible!"
Lavinah turned on her heel to address the third inquiry with a thin smile,
her tone silky and words finely spun from warm corporate threads. "On the
contrary," she corrected Elementa'lz, "TropicaFarm protectss itss clientss
from dissasster by providing premium inssurance they can trusst and peerless
service at reassonable ratess. We are deeply concerned by thesse
developmentss and offer our mosst sincere thoughtss and prayerss during
thiss difficult time. As a token of our essteem, and in ssolidarity with
the Arkanian community, All championss who asssissted in the Great Forest
cleanup sshall be pressented with a Golden Oak Leaf of Friendsship."
Writer: Piknim
Date Mon Apr 1 16:04:41 2024
To All ( april fool Dragoth Lavinah )
Subject Management: A 2024 Lavinah Story (2 of 2)
The heavy double-doors slammed shut behind Lavinah with a boom, cutting
off All sound from the outside. She strode through a spacious foyer with
the grace of a dancer, trailing sinuous curls of acrid smoke from her
cigarette holder, and joined a group of corporate clones in the elevator.
Although she never took a drag from the cigarette, the cherry smoldered
persistently and soon filled the enclosed space with a pestilent miasma.
Somebody coughed softly, politely. Lavinah offered only a cold smile in
return. Another cough, this time more urgent. Finally, the elevator doors
opened with a chime and black-suited bodies flooded around her into the
adjoining lobby. The chime sounded once more, the elevator doors slid shut,
and Lavinah ascended to her top floor corner office alone in sublime
silence.
Once there, she settled into a padded armchair and buzzed her personal
assistant. A watery-eyed goblin entered with All the alacrity he could
muster. The bandages wrapped around his head and various appendages,
unkempt hair, and tired demeanor contrasted sharply with impeccable attire.
"Resumes," Lavinah prompted simply, steepling her slender fingers.
"Right here," the goblin replied, balancing a stack of manila folders upon a
side table. He placed the first resume in front of Lavinah. "This one is
from a kender named Piknim Cracklespark."
Lavinah curled her lip with disdain and briefly surveyed the application.
"We don't need anymore diverssity hiress. And what'ss thiss? Place of
ressidence.. Verminasia? Impossible. What an unfortunate typo - no
attention to detail. Next."
"Up next is a half-elf named Penelop-uhh.. Penelopina "Penny" Starflower
Sha'falas Sha-"
"Ugh. Name is too long. Next."
"Ahh, here's a wemic named Rao'mrath. His resume is fourteen pages long!"
"Finally, an applicant with ssufficient experience."
"It's a thirteen-page list of different food items he's consumed.. and a
cover letter."
Lavinah unfurled her hands and rested her head in them with a weary sigh.
Sometimes she despised her job. It had become more and more difficult to
meet quotas in recent months. She heard that some hobgoblin in marketing
got his arm ripped off for falling short one too many times. Anyone could
be up on the chopping block, literally and figuratively.
Her office phone rang suddenly, as if on cue. A single glance at the number
confirmed the source and her heart sank. Lavinah seized hold of a green and
yellow TropicaFarm rubber stress ball with her left hand, squeezed until her
knuckles turned white, released the tension, and picked up the receiver with
a steady right hand.
"Dark Lord. How may I be of sservice?"
Writer: Emmyth
Date Tue Apr 2 15:14:32 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Wed Apr 3 12:03:46 2024
Writer: Eleric
Date Wed Apr 3 20:42:41 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Wed Apr 3 20:48:28 2024
Writer: Aliera
Date Wed Apr 3 20:58:06 2024
Writer: Aliera
Date Wed Apr 3 21:00:29 2024
Writer: Milleuda
Date Thu Apr 4 18:54:10 2024
To All imm
Subject A page from the journal of a soldier
When I was very little, I was fascinated with my father's war equipment.
He had been released from service not long after I was born, and given a
pension by the nobility. While he would not tell me any of his tales of
battle, no matter how much I begged, he would often tell my brother and I
that the soul of a soldier was in their blade. It is one of the few
memories I have of him, I lost my parents not long after. The same conflict
that took them, eventually took my brother, and while losing my parents
hurt, losing my brother was far more painful.
I did not have but a few years with my dad, and my mother, but I spent a
nearly two decades fighting in the revolution with my brother. Some wounds
never heal. Lifetimes have passed, and still that pain dwells, but, some
days ago I had some correspondence with an old acquaintance. Somehow, they
had tracked down, and smuggled out my brother's sword. The nobility we had
fought against had at some point had the blade shattered, yet All the shards
had been meticulously collected.
When off duty, I thought deeply, wondering what to do with it. I ruled out
having it reforged, for a few reasons. Even if I desired to wield it in
battle again, I would not so casually endanger the only physical item from
him that remained with me. He had the names of battles engraved on the
steel, some of which I stood in arms with him. Were I to reforge the sword,
those markings would be lost.
Then, one night, while I stood at the battlements of Ironclad, I remembered
having passed through Dojia. I remembered being enamored with a tiny shop
that sold porcelain that had been broken, but repaired, using lacquer and
gold. I have never been in the market for a tea set, the thought of it not
off putting, but it just felt too opulent.
Kintsugi, the shopkeeper called it. It was the idea that something was
damaged and instead of replacing it, or masking the flaws, the breaks were
turned into the attraction. To my mind, it was a boldness I had never
considered, to showcase where failure had happened, yet now there was
something precious, and beautiful.
Only, a blade is not a teacup. I could have the steel reforged and the
utility of the weapon restored, and the soldier side of me leaned that
direction. However, my heart moved me otherwise. His sword will never be
fielded in battle again, but I will treasure it. For the first time in a
long time, I feel as if that pain I have carried with me for so long might
heal.
When the shop completes the work, I will have it placed in a case. I might
even display it in Ironclad's temple. If I must suffer the daily sight of
the vandalism incurred on our walls by the cultists, then I might as well
balance it out with the soul of my brother being near, mended, and restoring
some amount of dignity to the temple.
Writer: Jochi
Date Thu Apr 4 20:47:07 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Thu Apr 4 21:35:40 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Fri Apr 5 09:43:18 2024
Writer: Vyasa
Date Fri Apr 5 11:54:43 2024
Writer: Vyasa
Date Sat Apr 6 19:52:55 2024
Writer: Vyasa
Date Sat Apr 6 19:54:32 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Sat Apr 6 20:04:08 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Sun Apr 7 18:06:47 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Mon Apr 8 18:03:21 2024
Writer: Nyxiva
Date Tue Apr 9 21:57:07 2024
To All ( Imm Drakkara Sebatis Religion )
Subject {uMeeting the Darkness
She sits atop the hoopak and looks around at everyone present, such a
curious mix of people, though they All do look powerful enough to be useful
for her purposes. She tries to follow the sermon but can't help but think
of how she came to be in this situation. Her mind drifts to the images she
has of being driven from Tropica, then her time spent in the woods near
Verminasia, and finally her refusal to ignore the budding need for revenge
building in her heart and soul.
She looks to each person here, labelling them for her own recollection
later. A big ogre holding a head, he shall be called Head Master. A woman
in bloody clothing, speaking now and then and probably important, so she
shall be the Blood Matron. Another woman who at first looked sickly, but on
closer inspection reveals knowledge and likely power, though the worms and
other bugs do add a certain unease... She shall be called The Infested.
Another is there, though she can't quite make them out and they rarely
speak, so he is ignored and likely useless to her. A man had walked in
late, rather proud of himself and even directs a glance her way. He had
tried to scare her with some blue flames, though he failed to realize she is
only scared of one thing, and he nor the flames are that. Arrogant,
brooding, and quite plainly powerful, he will be useful. Steel Muffins
shall be his name.
She turns to see another, a young looking elf or half elf who seems quite
out of place. She can't quite tell if there is power or not, but she
assumes there is with the way the elfling carries herself and the fact she
came to a place so obviously out of place for her. She also had brought the
fruit. Delicious fruit that she so badly wanted to go eat. She shall be
known as Lovely Fruits.
Lastly, and most certainly not least, is her favorite. No nickname for her.
She will show her the way to defeat them all, she had promised as much.
Power beyond her understanding was soon to be hers, All thanks to the one
holding the staff she was perched on. Hopefully others would follow her, or
at least not try to stop her. Her parents had died, her friends had died,
and now she was going to see to it that she'd never feel helpless again, and
that she'd be in control of her own form of justice to bestow. All thanks
to her new friend.
Her mind drifts and she grins to herself as more images of power pass
through her mind, her awareness completely lost in the beautiful images.
She was entirely unprepared for the flick to her backside, causing her to
fly up and squeak, looking down with a pout. If it had been anyone else
here, she'd have shown them not to mess with her! But not this one, this
one gets All her patience. At least for now
Writer: Thuken
Date Thu Apr 11 19:53:41 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Fri Apr 12 11:08:06 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Fri Apr 12 22:05:57 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Sat Apr 13 00:13:58 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Sat Apr 13 09:45:00 2024
Writer: Zaccur
Date Sat Apr 13 10:39:41 2024
To All ( RP )
Subject Preparations
He leaves the meeting with more questions than answers. Two rulers, one
with the final say, yet neither what he expected. Beyond surprised at the
rise of one, and the other a mystery. He had much to think on, and little
time to do it.
Back at the Haven he sits in the Council Chamber, looking over papers and
talking with his staff. He had said he would reveal little of the plan, yet
was finding it increasingly hard to get his council to understand how urgent
this was. He hated to do it, but he'd have to use his position for once to
demand they just do as he said and trust in his judgement.
"Enough! You will send the scouts where I have indicated, and their leader
has approval to have even more locations once they understand the situation.
I want All Home Guard and military leave cancelled for the next week.
Recall any training regimens and begin basic drills. All will be on high
alert for the coming days. No more questions. Do it. "
He glares around the table, everyone staring at him in shock. He gave them
a few moments to collect themselves before adding, "No more questions on
why. You will do it, or I will find others who can. Every single scout
will be utilized, with relays between All posts so that if any meet and ill
fate, we will know by their failed arrival and we can enact our defenses.
This is no drill. Any scout missing will set off the rest of us. Do I make
that clear? "
As he suspected, there was no further discussion on "why". Instead they all
started to finally look at his plan and offers suggestions for other
postings for the scouts, additional pockets of where the other soldiers
might stage, and how to not alert the whole kingdom and spread fear. The
wonderful excuse of a military exercise would be used. Which, thankfully,
is truth. Any such movement is an exercise. Leaving "training" off of it
would likely concern a few, but the majority wouldn't notice that.
He retires once the plan is prepared and the proper documents signed...
Always something to sign. With a sigh he falls onto the blankets, clothed
and uncaring as he passes out from exhaustion. His final thoughts turn to
the future of Arkane.
Writer: Zaccur
Date Sat Apr 13 10:40:42 2024
To All ( RP Croatoan Imm Religion Arkane )
Subject Coming to Terms
The King lay in the garden and stares up at nothing. His thoughts on his
rule, his life, and the future. He thought he had it All figured out until
recently. Oh how so very wrong he was. His trust broken by not one, but
three. His Kingdom becoming a deserted wasteland basically overnight. The
lack of interest in events. All of it just adding up to one simple
conclusion.
Change is what is needed.
He sighs, rolling over and fidgeting with the edges of the blanket,
remembering fondly times past. So many mistakes he's made. Trust. How he
keeps falling for the allure of giving his trust to others. No. Enough is
enough. Change is needed. The people demand it by their absence, the world
demands it by its dormancy, and his life demands it by its failures.
He rolls over again, sprawled out on the blanket and holding back his
emotions. He'd decided then. Now he just needs to work out the details and
hopefully Arkane will blossom again.
Writer: Vyasa
Date Sat Apr 13 17:59:26 2024
Writer: Asrar
Date Sat Apr 13 19:19:32 2024
Writer: Vyasa
Date Sun Apr 14 20:58:04 2024
Writer: Zaccur
Date Mon Apr 15 22:50:07 2024
To All ( RP Croatoan Imm Religion Arkane )
Subject The End is Near
He sat at his desk, staring down at the missive he'd written. It took
him several long moments, much more emotional ones than he expected, before
he handed it off to the scribes to disperse across the lands. He sat back
and sighed, reflecting.
Had he really just agreed to abdicate?
With no real doubts coming to him, he simply nodded to himself. The next
Queen was someone he respected and knew cared for Arkane deeply, and with
her might come the changes that his home needs to not just survive, but
thrive. Yes. This was the right path.
The soft scent of firewood reaches his nose and he turns to look out the
window, standing and moving to it. Soon he would be entrusting this to
another. Strange, how after only 6 months he was already this attached.
Did every King or Queen who steps down have these thoughts? Surely they
did. He'd like to think so at least. So few left from what he feels were
his glory day. So few, and yet he was about to step down and retire to a
quiet life and leave them one fewer. At least he'd be hidden from the lies,
the betrayals, and the heartaches.
His thoughts turn dark, brooding, and he steps back from the window and
stares at the hearth. How annoying it is to care. Such a weakness for a
king to be so easily attached. So easily broken. His youth had taught him
well, and he seemed to have forgotten that somewhere along the way.
Hours of brooding into the fire pass, and he grumbles, wiping at his face
and slapping his cheeks as he rises and heads to bed. His final thoughts
are of relief that the end is near.
Writer: Vyasa
Date Tue Apr 16 11:53:27 2024
Writer: Maccus
Date Wed Apr 17 04:03:21 2024
Writer: Maccus
Date Wed Apr 17 04:04:13 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Thu Apr 18 00:36:39 2024
Writer: Vershae
Date Thu Apr 18 00:58:45 2024
Writer: Maccus
Date Thu Apr 18 03:20:08 2024
Writer: Maccus
Date Thu Apr 18 03:20:44 2024
Writer: Maccus
Date Thu Apr 18 03:20:49 2024
Writer: Maccus
Date Thu Apr 18 03:20:53 2024
Writer: Jochi
Date Thu Apr 18 12:43:46 2024
Writer: Piknim
Date Thu Apr 18 12:46:27 2024
To Verminasia Shadow Abaddon Eevelline All ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject Bloodwar Chronicles (1)
The cool night air and occasional screech of a bat provided wine and song
enough for Piknim Cracklespark. She stood on a palace terrace overlooking
the city, a parchment with a broken seal of scarlet wax in hand. He violet
eyes wandered restlessly, surveying both in turn.
The Bloodwar had begun and pieces were now in motion.
Piknim empathized with Abaddon's plight, even if her well of sympathy had
run dry. The Darkness faced many challenges beyond the Bloodlands, after
all. She turned her wide-eyed gaze to the Aurora blazing on Verminasia's
horizon, less a beacon of hope than a foreboding flame that threatened to
engulf All she had found in her journey - everything withheld from
Kender-kind by the gods of Light and Balance, or left to ruin through
neglect. Magic. Purpose. Homeland. Hope for a better future, much less
strength enough or the will to seize it for themselves.
The longer Piknim stared at the whorl of light and fire the more she
seethed, until the tainted dragonbone kris at her side began to throb with
Crimson Ire as it fed upon her hatred. Finally, the kender witch vented her
rancor with sigh, turning from the Aurora, and the fel heartbeat abated.
In the distance she could hear a faint echo of steel-toed footfalls and
iron-shod hoofbeats on Verminasian cobblestones alongside the call of
military cadence. Three companies of Verminasian troops marched forth in
support of Abaddon, with Captain Hege Vinter commanding one of them. The
bars pinned to her collar were shiny and new, but the shoulders that bore
the weight of responsibility were anything but young. The aging assassin
had a good head on her shoulders. Supernatural threats called for sound
judgment and sturdy mettle. Hege would represent the kingdom well. In that
the Darkfinder found no doubt.
She descended the terrace stairs and proceeded to Verminasia's palace war
room on a path marked with droplets of dried blood, a testament to unseen
events that sparked a memory of her recent meeting with Abaddon's leaders in
the Death Garden.
* A dulcet whisper breathed along the Darkfinder's ear and over her neck.
"The coveted streets of Verminasia lie between two powers. Do not forget."
* - * - * - * - * - * - *
"A particularly naughty vampire snuck into the War Room and painted spooky
eyes on All the mirrors in blood," Piknim declared with open amusement. The
kender witch's reflection dabbed dried blood from its glass portal and
grinned irrepressibly at Lavinah Nether'vyr. The dark elven Priestess of
Dragoth found little humor in the macabre find.
"..my. Are you not concerned, Advissor?"
Piknim ushered Lavinah from the war room with a beckoning hand and they met
in the hall. "Mildly concerned," the diminutive Advisor confessed. She
wore a grim smile, as a gardener dons gloves before moving rocks and pulling
weeds. "However, there's nothing to gain by fretting and little to be done
about it. Verminasia is well defended both within and without. The only
bastions Caustus can hope to breach are our spirits. Morale is of utmost
import. Let us institute a policy - nobody walks alone within the palace.
Don't call it the buddy system. That sounds lame. Call it - oh, I don't
know - shadowing. Don't go anywhere without a shadow!"
Lavinah smirked and shook her head. "Very well," the priestess acquiesced,
"That ssaid, I recommend desstroying the mirrorss, yess?"
"Agreed," Piknim replied, snapping her fingers to summon a pair of
attendants.
Destroy every mirror save one and place it in the vaults. When All is said
and done I'll hang it in my parlour. Caustus can watch from the Great
Beyond as All of his dreams fade to nothing and mine come true!
Writer: Eevelline
Date Thu Apr 18 16:49:06 2024
To Drakkara Symantha Emmyth Piknim Vyzander Abaddon Verminasia All ( Imm RP Cayenna )
Subject Down Below: {uHer Selenic Guard ( 2 )
There are five. Five acolytes at this point of the night, with their
lovely brooms and feather dusters roaming around Drakkara's Temple.
Naturally there are more, yet many are busy within the vast space that
constitutes this temple. Her Temple does indeed require a great deal of
upkeep, I mean- who keeps those luscious cushions stuffed properly? But it
is these five.. That we will look in on for this moment. If the five
figures present are a telltale sign of their skill with magic, their brooms
being animated and performing the work for them- then that is a true and
apparent thing to see. Of these five, two are re-igniting the torches and
lightwork about Her Temple, and another is indeed- suturing those lovely
cushions.
A sixth figure joins them, but this one is quite short- her black robe
rippling in her wake as she sprints into the temple. Eevelline jumps up
with a singular fist pumping up into the wondrous chasm that this gnome has
swept many times before.
'WE GO TO WAR ONCE MORE, ACOLYTES! By order of High Priestess Symantha
Schwartz, we're moving out over the weekend! '
One of the Acolytes stops in his sweeping tracks. He's rather skinny, of
alabaster skin- and this one has glasses. He smiles, perhaps out of
disbelief- or perhaps out of confusion. His teeth are brushed though, so
that's pretty great. 'Eevelline?! Where have you bee-'
'Larry that's a long story, we don't have time to talk now- but we do indeed
have work to do! '
Eevelline simply runs up to "Larry", and stares up at him.
Larry doesn't really seem to protest, but he does manage an interrupted
quip. 'Eeve, my name is Lawr-'
'Yes yes, I know- Lawrence of Verminasia. It's Larry, because it's a better
name. How soon can we muster the veteran attendants and magisters? '
Larry looks to the other four, and gives a nod. The other four take notice-
and depart with haste- their animated cleaning utensils in tow. 'We'll be
ready by end of week, and will begin making our way to.. Where exactly? '
---
'You haven't slept. You're falling into old habits, worm. '
'If they are preparing, so will I. Mine is more of a mental thing.
Veprecula is alive and well, or she will be soon. '
There are two gnomes in this place. One is real.. One is severely maimed,
yet a duplicate of the other. The maimed one appears to be missing her
eyes, as well.
'If you won't embrace -me-.. Then you'll simply perish. You think you're
alive because of.. YOU? ' The maimed one cackles- skipping around..
Appearing to avoid any obstacles sans being able to see.
Eevelline sighs, and looks off toward a space in this ruined temple. It is
a blank, empty spot.. Moss even grows on the stonework. It erupts into
fire after a moment, the flames climbing upward- pulling the air into a
typhoon of heat.
The gnome pulls out a folded up bit of parchment from a robe pocket. It's a
map of Althainia, the continent having a great deal of detail. A dark red
circle rounds about a single notation on this map. This place encircled- is
Abaddon.
Writer: Piknim
Date Thu Apr 18 16:51:20 2024
To Verminasia Abaddon Shadow Eevelline All ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject Bloodwar Chronicles (2)
Verminasia's Lunarium Academy, a dark bastion of higher learning, rivaled
the Conclave in breadth of study if not in depth. Piknim reminisced of days
gone by as she walked the mahogany-paneled halls, which stood eerily quiet
and still. Classes must be in session.
She halted before a long array of wooden lockers, one of which stood out
distinctly from the others. Its door hung crooked from a broken top hinge
and racial slurs were carved into the time-worn surface. However, a
pristine bronze plaque fastened to the wall above the locker bore a familiar
surname.
Cracklespark, P.
Piknim continued on her way, passing by MAMA - the Mirrors of Arcane Martial
Arts - where young dueling club memebers practiced wand techniques. A
cacophony of blasts, zaps, pops, and light-hearted curses resonated from
within the secure chamber, summoning a fond smile to her lips. Wand dueling
fell out of style long ago, or so she thought. Perhaps it had made
something of a comeback.
Wands were one of the only arcane disciplines the kender witch ever truly
excelled at during her time at the academy. After all, wand techniques
relied almost entirely upon speed of mouth and manual dexterity. She had
some serious skills. Even so, it only took a single ounce of
overconfidence, a short lapse in focus for one well-timed barrage of command
words in rapid-fire gnome-speak to zap a wand right out of your hand.
The fourth floor stairs felt longer and more demanding than her legs
remembered them. Piknim crested the landing with an exaggerated groan and
wandered from one office to another until she found the one belonging to
Winnifredanna Dafnedorra, Dean of Natural Arcana. The door stood slightly
ajar, and so the kender witch rapped upon it once politely before poking her
head inside with a wide grin.
"Hey ho, Winnie. Guess who!"
A tinker gnome looked up in surprise, blinking behind the wide lenses of
brass-rimmed glasses. The indigo-streaked black pigtails she remembered so
distinctly were bound up in prim space buns, but little else had changed in
the interim. "Cracklespark?" Winnie exclaimed, rising from her chair,
"Archduchess, rather. Wellwellwell. Whatasurprise! Come in.
Comecomecome!"
Vigorous handshakes, a warm embrace, and fond backpats were exchanged
amongst old chums. Piknim's gaze explored the Dean's office with customary
curiosity All the while, wandering across gilded book bindings, arcane
curios of All sorts, and exotic art pieces before settling upon a collection
of bronze trophies. One trophy in particular, a pair of crossed wands
afixed to a translucent chunk of black crystal, stood front and center.
"Our doubles trophy," Piknim cooed at the keepsake with delight, "You kept
it after All this time?"
"Yesofcourse," Winnie confirmed with an indignant sniff, "No one believes me
when I tell them I beat you in a sanctioned match. The doubles championship
must thereforesuffice!"
"I'm not sure that I even believe it," Piknim quipped playfully, hiding a
snicker behind her hand.
Winnie reached for a nearby wand of hornbeam and waggled it at the kender
witch. "Don't start with me! Don'tyoudoit!"
* - * - * - * - * - * - *
"So, you need moonsilver," Dean Dafnedorra queried brusquely, "And why's
that, I wonder?"
"It's a secret!"
"It's for fighting Ancient vampires. That's no secret."
Piknim folded her arms and adopted a scowl. "How'd you know about that?"
"I read the Countess of Abaddon's public notices."
The kender witch buried her face in both hands with a muffled groan of
consternation.
"Speakingofpublicnotices," Winnie transitioned smoothly with the hint of a
cunning smile that belied her scholarly disposition, "I've not heard from
Scholarch Orbra Darkstone in some time. Will his position be open any time
soon?"
Piknim parted her tiny fingers and peeked through them. "Winnie, I'll get
you a corner office on the Black Moon if you get me what we need to win this
thing!"
Writer: Piknim
Date Thu Apr 18 16:55:45 2024
To Verminasia Abaddon Shadow Eevelline All ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject Bloodwar Chronicles (3)
Winnie and Piknim swept into the Natural Arcana Department's vaults with
a purpose, followed by a gaggle of uniformed students. The mild-mannered
Dean, in the height of her element, possessed the ardent mien of a soldier
on a mission. Winnie passed off a hefty arcanium key-ring to her kender
compatriot. "Vault 87," she instructed, before turning to address the class
leader. "Arcane Geology of Algoron, page 273. Moonsilver."
The afore-mentioned student, a dour dark elf with spectacles, laid open his
copy of the text upon a table, turned to the numbered page, and read the
entry aloud over a rattle of keys:
"Moonsilver, rare chemical element. A soft, white, lustrous transition
metal associated with mundane silver deposits and warpstone crystal, both of
which form in abundance along leylines. Warpstone crystal occurs naturally
in three colors - white, black, and red. Light from the Moons filters
through natural crevasses and refracts off crystals of the appropriate hue;
over centuries, focused moonlight imbues veins of silver with qualities
germane to arcane application. Moonsilver exhibits among the highest arcane
conductivity, electrical conductivity, thermal conductivity, and
reflectivity of any metal with high amplification potential."
A series of clacks sounded as the tumblers fell into place, punctuating the
dark elf's words. Piknim pulled the vault door open with a creak, retrieved
an arcanium coffer, and hefted it onto the table with a dull boom. She
lifted the lid. A trio of moonsilver ingots rested within upon a bed of
black velvet, lustrous beyond belief, glimmering with faint hues of halcyon,
vermillion, and indigo. Pure arcane potential.
"What're ya gonna do with 'em," a particularly short goblin in rumpled
academy robes wondered aloud, bobbing higher with the aid of magical flight
to peer inside the coffer.
The Darkfinder's child-like features hardened into an expression of
grim determination.
"I've absolutely no idea."
Writer: Vyzander
Date Thu Apr 18 22:27:31 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Fri Apr 19 20:12:04 2024
Writer: Hege
Date Sat Apr 20 00:15:13 2024
To Verminasia Abaddon Shadow All ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject Bloodwars - Company Plans
"Cap'n!" shouted an eager recruit with a barely master salute. "I am
to e.. Escort you to the parade grounds!"
Hege quickly returned the salute to the relief of the fresh recruit and
followed the scampering goblin. Fortunately for Captain Vinter, the winds
were blowing away from her and towards the goblin as a large audible
flatulence erupted from the recruit in front of her.
Her company stood before her in formation. As she scanned the grounds, she
realized just how inexperienced many of the new recruits were, but as she
looked closer, she saw the hardened expressions upon the faces of the
veterans mixed in among the fresh meat. This was the type of company she
wanted: one with part youth and part brain.
In truth, she was used to more solo missions and not large expeditions, but
this was a new experience for her, and she relished the challenge. How
would she use her knowledge of stealth, deception, and surprise with so many
loud beings? It was then that she came upon the idea that she was not
leading one mass, but instead a collection of small mission driven parties.
As the gears of her mind were turning, she nodded to herself as she looked
upon her company and knew that her plan for mass small diversions,
disruptions, and sabotage would work.
With certainty of her plan, she addressed her company. "Soldiers of
Verminasia we are here to make sure the Tapestry of Infinite Night will not
be frayed. Let it not be said that we allowed our Dark Lady's mission to be
shredded. We are Verminasia. We are Her Kingdom. We are Her servants. We
are Her reckoning upon this world. For Honor! For Glory! For Drakkara!
For The Infinite Night!"
In one chorus, her company answered back in unison, "FOR THE INFINATE NIGHT!"
As she dismissed her company from the parade grounds, she called for her
lieutenants and instructed them on the plan. These lieutenants would in
turn, divide the company further, eventually down to the small teams with
single goals of diversion, division, or deception to thwart the opponent's
coordinated lines. In addition to preparing the bodies of the soldiers,
each unit takes their remaining time to acquire supplies for their tasks
with these small cell incursions. These supplies came from toy makers,
tailors, weapon smiths, and All the other guilds of Verminasia.
For order to win, one must bring confusion to the opponent and that is what
she will do. Her subterfuge will weaken, and the other companies will use
their strength to advance.
Writer: Vyzander
Date Sat Apr 20 01:41:44 2024
To Emmyth Eevelline Abaddon All ( Imm RP )
Subject Preparations for War - Revelations in the Dark
The heat's intensity was matched only by the powerful aromas filling the
room. All along the walls many contraptions and glassware, magical and
mundane, were suspended over roaring flames. 'Pump me boys, pump 'er dry.
Down to hell and up to the sky. Bend your back and break your bones, we're
just a thousand miles from home. ' Vyzander, the room's sole occupant, sang
a tune as he moved from station to station, imbuing the various brews with a
touch of magic as he went.
He coughed lightly, seeming to just notice the buildup of smoke in the room
and made a note to look into the roof's central chimney. Yes, he was
running more of the furnaces than usual, but there shouldn't be this much
smoke gathered this quickly. His brews were progressing well, concoctions
of various potency for the needs he'd anticipated so far: some to steady the
hands of the healers, others to ease the pains of the wounded, more that
could be used to clean the wounds that could be weaponized in a pinch. He
glanced over to one corner where one particularly potent batch was being
made, the one to ease the passing of those too far gone.
He breathed a quick prayer that not much of that would be needed in the days
to come, before he stopped short. Why should he wish to forestall the hand
of his master? Was it not written that Death is absolute, that there can be
no removal, no separation from His reach? Once again the phantom thoughts
from the swamp returned to his mind. What weakness was within Abaddon that
needed to be culled? Over and over, that same question kept returning to
the forefront of his mind.
As he moved between the stills, making sure the distillates were flowing
properly a realization struck him like the last tumblers falling in place in
a lock. 'The Queens. ' The revelation paralyzed him where he stood, until
the flames licking at his hands snapped him back into motion. Wincing, he
returned to the various tasks at hand.
But now that the thought had finally coalesced, it would not leave him. The
whole premise of this war was that the Elders had sensed weakness in their
rulers. Were they not then enacting Fatale's divine will in their attempts
to strike them down? 'Blood and char... ' he muttered to the smoke filled
room around him. He suddenly found himself upon a damnable forked path with
one road leading to treason, the other to heresy.
He pulled a bottle of Fire Breather from his pouch and removed the stopper
with a lightly trembling hand. If he waited too long, the choices would
pass him by, for better or worse. He took a long pull from the bottle and
chased it with another. War was on the horizon, and Vyzander Miete had
never been less sure of his path.
Writer: Asrar
Date Sat Apr 20 18:51:36 2024
Writer: Piknim
Date Sat Apr 20 19:36:17 2024
To Verminasia Abaddon Shadow Eevelline All ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject Bloodwar Chronicles (4)
Another night fell on Verminasia, and Piknim had yet to find the solution
to a big problem.
By what means could she and her allies hope to slay an Ancient vampire?
A trio of moonsilver ingots rested upon the table, imbued only with the
glimmer of possibility. Her plan to forge a moonsilver hilt for the lucent
shard had fallen through completely, for Maccus declined to part with it.
The kender witch needed a new plan.
Perhaps they could forge a stake. Vampire hunters wielded wooden stakes
with good reason, after All - reasons, she assumed, must surely be grounded
in fact as well as fiction. However, a moonsilver stake in and of itself
would not be enough. It required an arcane font to leverage the metal's
exceptional conductivity and amplification properties.
And so, the Darkfinder put on a kettle of hot tea and brainstormed well into
the witching hour, pacing in circles as she waited for lightning to strike
her brain, thumbing through books and peeking into curio cabinets until
reaching her wit's end and slumping into an armchair with a weary sigh.
Her half-lidded gaze continued to wander restlessly even as fatigue wracked
her body before finally settling upon a familiar pair of crossed wands
afixed to a chunk of black crystal. The dueling club's doubles
championship; tournament trophy. That's when the spark struck, like a bolt
from the umbra, and Piknim sat upright with a start. She sprang to her feet
and pulled out the hornbeam wand that had fallen into her pocket during the
visit to Dean Winnifredanna's office.
Wands! Wands contained cores. Dragon bone, unicorn tails, troll whiskers,
braids of giant hair, demon horns, moonlily stalks. Black dragon bone
cores, for example, bolstered the effects of acid blast spells, among other
attributes. The moonsilver stake required a core!
The kender witch had an inkling of which sort it needed, but she had to be
sure.
Piknim retrieved a thick book from the shelf and carried it to the table.
The tome's well-worn cover identified it as "Giltoffer Grand Adventure: A;
Collection of Tall Tales." Indeed, she remembered a story of the legendary
Baliforian hero, Giltoffer Glimmerhand, and his encounter with an Ancient
vampiress. She thumbed through the pages and found the pertinent chapters
precisely as she recalled them from her youth.
Once upon a time, whilst exploring a dark castle in the far western marshes,
Giltoffer ran afoul of an Ancient vampiress. Arrogant and wicked to a
fault, she sought to seduce the kender hero and make him her plaything.
However, against All odds, Giltoffer destroyed the vampiress by tickling her
with a phoenix feather that had fallen into his pocket purely by
happenstance. He filled her black heart so full of laughter that the
demon-soul fled its mortal vessel. Her body crumbled to ashes, but from the
ashes arose a giant bat that joined Giltoffer as a companion on his Grand
Adventure.
Piknim traced a tiny fingertip across the flowery lettering absently. Could
it be true? Could a poweful undead monster be destroyed by a tuft of
phoenix down?
It almost sounded like cheating.
She turned back to the book's forward and recited the author's opening
sentiment aloud.
"The most colorful of yarns are spun with threads of truth.."
Writer: Piknim
Date Sat Apr 20 19:43:35 2024
To Verminasia Abaddon Shadow Eevelline All ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject Bloodwar Chronicles (5)
And so, Verminasia's finest smiths worked from sunrise to sunset to forge
a red moonsilver stake with a phoenix feather core. At last, Piknim held
the finished implement aloft, brandished it before in a fighting stance,
tested its weight and balance, and found perfection in its quality.
Maybe it would be enough to wound Caustus. Maybe not. Nonetheless, it
served as a symbol of Verminasia's dedication to unity and solidarity; the
lynchpin in a bridge built betwixt dark kingdoms; a promise that as long as
Piknim Cracklespark yet lived, an ally could be found in the Darkness.
Piknim spent her final hours engraving an inscription into the stake's
lustrous surface. Something she heard Count Sigmund von Reist say to
Caustus and Belstrad. Perhaps Fatale uttered it first. Regardless, it
sounded fitting - with an air of finality as sharp as the stake's pointy
end.
"In Death, All Serve."
Writer: Emmyth
Date Sat Apr 20 20:51:49 2024
To Verminasia Darkonin Abaddon Shadow Tobryck Eevelline All ( rp imm Fatale Croatoan Cayenna Admin )
Subject BloodWars Allies Unite
The night before the battle, Abaddon's castle bustled with activity.
Verminasia, Darkonin, Shadow, Bloodlust, and the Black Robes All allies
arrived within the shadowed walls. Their banners fluttered in the evening
breeze, their warriors ready for the impending clash.
Medical kits were assembled and strategically placed in four major areas for
quick access to the wounded. The garden, once a place of serenity,
transformed into a makeshift hospital. Cots lined the pathways, and healers
moved with purpose, their hands skilled in binding wounds and easing pain
waited in anticipation.
Tobryck, Overlord of Bloodlust, was one of the first to arrive. His silver
sword gleamed in the moonlight, ready to defend Abaddon. Advisor Piknim
Cracklespark, King Drogan, Chieftain of the Bear Tribe, they followed suit.
Their presence bolstered Abaddon's resolve.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Abaddon stood vigilant. They knew the
stakes the Elder Vampires threatened Abaddon, unity their greatest weapon.
Countess Emmyth, stood within the throne room, her silver-threaded gown
brushing the ground as she paced the floor, her vow to lead her people with
strength and determination pushed her to lenths she didn't even know she
had.
And so, as the sun painted the sky in hues of crimson, Abaddon stood united.
Allies from distant lands, citizens, and the very shadows that clung to the
realm were ready. The night was filled with anticipation, and the next dawn
would determine the fate of Abaddon.
Writer: Vyasa
Date Sat Apr 20 22:46:11 2024
Writer: Jochi
Date Sun Apr 21 09:13:36 2024
Writer: Vyasa
Date Sun Apr 21 09:55:00 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Sun Apr 21 13:08:16 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Mon Apr 22 00:38:57 2024
To All Abaddon Verminasia Shadow Black_Robes Bloodlust ( Imm Cayenna Xenophon Rhelic )
Subject Bloodwars Part 1 Wearwolves and Vampires Oh My!
Countess Emmyth lowered herself into the steaming bath, the water
soothing her aching muscles. As Emmyth soaked in the hot water, she
reflected on the brutal day the Bloodwar had erupted just as the sun dipped
below the horizon.
The darkness prevailed, but at a cost. Lives were lost, wounds ran deep,
yet Abaddon stood defiant. The walls of her chambers whispered secrets the
paintings, the rituals, the serrated dagger above the door All in praise of
Fatale, the silent witness to their struggle.
Four packs of werewolves descended upon Abaddon, their feral rage tearing
through the night. The walls trembled with the howls of the attackers.
Claws slashed, teeth gnashed, and crimson stained the cobblestones.
Abaddon's defenders fought valiantly: Firstborns, Verminasia, Darkonin,
Shadow, Bloodlust, and the Black Robes All allies united against the common
threat.
The werewolves were feral, relentless, their howls echoing through the
night. But amidst the chaos, another threat emerged: a sinister vampire an
emissary sent by Caustus himself.
Countess Emmyth remained vigilant, protecting the Queens and shielding them
from harm. However, the sinister vampire had other plans. Emmyth watched
as the shadows shifted and formed before her, its eyes lingering on hers as
the Sinister Vampire spoke.
"The distraction of the werewolves did not fool you," it hissed.
Emmyth's heart raced as she faced the vampire. Its eyes pierced her,
malevolence locked onto hers. She called for help, her voice echoing
through the chaos. Allies rallied Verminasia, Darkonin, Shadow, Bloodlust,
and the Black Robes fighting as one.
Together, they thwarted the vampire's attempt to steal the Queens'
lifeblood. The battle was fierce, the ground slick with blood. The
sinister vampire lay defeated, its heart still pulsing with malevolence a
gruesome trophy. Later that night, Piknim Cracklespark, the
ever-resourceful advisor, revealed her gift within the garden to Emmyth
The night wore on, the moon casting its pale light upon the wounded and the
weary. Abaddon's allies moved with purpose, tending to those who had
spilled their blood defending the shadowed kingdom. Emmyth, her
silver-threaded gown now stained with mud and sweat, finally allowed herself
to be treated. Eevelline, a skilled healer, worked diligently to cleanse
her wounds and stitch them closed. She sent Emmyth on her way to clean up
and get some rest.
But even after the long soak in the tub, sleep eluded Emmyth. The
adrenaline of battle still coursed through her veins. She tied her hair
into a messy bun, its silver strands escaping in disarray. Emmyth made her
way to the garden, where the wounded were tended to in a makeshift hospital
filled with cots. Healers moved with urgency. Emmyth kept herself busy
until dawn, exhausted. She finally made her way to her chambers.
Emmyths heart weighed heavy. The Queens were safe, their lifeblood
preserved. But the sinister vampires malevolence still echoed in her mind.
Caustuss emissary had been defeated, yet its presence lingered like a
shadow.
Writer: Nereza
Date Mon Apr 22 07:39:53 2024
To All Arkane ( Imm RP )
Subject The Ponderings of a Future Queen
For hours she had been sitting on a bench late at night, taking in the
cool night breeze and the clear star filled sky as her blue fingers deftly
sewed together thread and leather, piles of finished armor had been forming
around her but she hardly noticed. Nereza was thoroughly lost in thought,
her hands automatically working as she reflected on recent happenings and
pondered the future.
Mere months ago she had been a Professor, which was a position she very much
enjoyed. It allowed her to help with Arkanian recruitment efforts and gave
her an official vessel to provide education to others that sought to learn
about the art of enchanting which was her one true love in life. She would
have been happy to stay as a Professor, but not long ago the King had called
for those interested in the Chancellor position to step forward and despite
some hesitation on her part Nereza had felt compelled to rise to the call
and put her name into the pool of candidates. As it turns out, it was a
very small pool and she had quickly been selected for the position of
Chancellor much to her surprise.
"Well, this could be wonderful!" She had thought "This will be an excellent
way to educate myself on the inner workings of a kingdom, it will give me
a rare opportunity to not only see what it takes to run a nation but to be
a part of it and to provide the King a likely much needed second voice in
the decision making process".
The King had previously held the Chancellor position for quite some time
before ascending to the crown so she had assumed this would be a long-term
position and that she would have ample time to ease into these new
responsibilities and hopefully learn from someone that had been in the same
position for so long.
Nereza sighed deeply, oh how wrong she had been. The King had announced his
plans to abdicate the throne barely a month after her rise to Chancellor,
there would be no easing into anything, no learning from an experienced
predecessor, no understanding of her duties... No, she was to be thrown
straight into the storm, a veritable tsunami of the unknown rushing towards
her at ever-increasing speeds.
She thought to herself "It's too late to back out of this now, I can't let
my people down. Somehow, I will have to become worthy of the position
bestowed upon me. I have so very much to learn...."
Her focus turned to the Red Moon, it was nearly time to begin enchanting.
Nereza had never been an overly religious person, but as she stared up at
the giant red orb in the sky she couldn't help but wonder how Lord Sebatis
felt about All this. Did he approve? Did he even notice? She hoped so and
closed her eyes for a long moment to offer a prayer to Him, not to ask for
anything but to share the very thoughts she had been so lost in with someone
in the hopes of achieving catharsis.
Eventually she opened her eyes and became aware of the now considerable
mountain of armor she had created for herself. She sighed again and shook
her head while rubbing the bridge of her nose, "No more time to dwell it seems,
there is work to be done". So, she gathered up her mountain of armor and
headed towards the Haven to begin the enchanting process, it was going to be
a long night.
Writer: Eevelline
Date Mon Apr 22 18:40:52 2024
To Drakkara Fatale Piknim Emmyth Abaddon All ( Imm RP Religion )
Subject Down Below: {uA Night In Abaddon ( 3 )
'The Garden is compromised! ' Several robed attendants engage in combat
with one of the interlopers of this night- a hulk of a werewolf. An elite
of their kind, to be sure.
Eevelline floats about, assessing the situation- werewolves at the entry,
wounded soldiers and guards in the Garden. A rock and hard place, if ever
there was one. What to do.. What to do. A decision is then made.
'Move. ' The message rings out in the gnome's head, yet it travels
forward.. And the attendants do their best to disengage from the werewolf.
A gap forms, between gnome and werewolf as Eevelline finds footing in the
soils of the Garden. The very air and space between gnome and beast seems
to ripple, and then a great discharge of otherworldly power leaves the
gnome's figure and careens right into the werewolf!
The werewolf shudders as the psionic blast slams into it- the creature
bending forward slightly while cupping it's head with clawed hands. It
seems rather stuck in place, in a fashion of- it goes no further into the
Garden proper. Eevelline keeps her focus upon this werewolf, eyes narrowed
as further blasts keep going forward. Everything is going.. Normally.
Nothing super fantastic, until-
A very large, very spiked hammer, wielded by a very Biggen One makes impact
on the werewolf.. The stunned monster slamming the cobblestones of the
Garden's entry with quite a force. Then there were four more, All of them a
blur as they attacked this interloper. It was at this moment Eevelline
knew, these werewolves made a very bad decision.
The gnome turns from this encounter, content that the Biggen Hammer and Doom
Squad that just came in had this "quite handled". Her efforts returned to
her purpose of old- tending the wounded. She was keeping her end of this
deal, the Selenic Contingent holding fast to keep this rally point secure.
Now comes the grisly part... Tending to the wounded at this point of the
night.
She spies several lacerations upon the closest injured guard of Abaddon- and
decides to start here. They're All along this one's arm- a testament to
this guard's ability to dodge.. Or it was luck. Regardless- the gnome
knows what to do. She carefully peels back the shredded chainmail, and with
one small hand keeps one large lacerations closed. The other hand heats
up.. The fingers enveloped in fire.
With great consideration, Eevelline runs her thumb along this laceration-
the sheer heat of her thumb sealing this wound closed. The scar would not
look well at this time... But the goal is to keep the "red stuff" inside
the body, so that's how this will work. The guard lets out a yelp of pain-
and then grits their teeth.. Opting to just watch the gnome at work instead
of panic. In a few more successions, the lacerations are sealed as best
Eevelline can manage at this time. Time is indeed, of the essence this
night.
---
'That was only the -first night-, worm. Imagine what they can do on the
second. I can help this.. But -you- must let -me- out. ' This voice
echoes within the confines of a gnomish mind.. But there is no source to be
seen.
Eevelline shrugs, pushing her glasses up as she stretches out in a cavalcade
of Darkness. This expanse of time and space feels luxurious, or.. Maybe
looks luxurious- to be honest no one really knows what it looks like, it's
simply that dark.
'As I prayed to the Dark Lady, and to The Lord Of Death- I shall give you
the same words.. Yet when I say this to -you-, it's not a request. This is
a demand. ' As the gnome floats about in this expanse.. That invading
echo of emotion disappears with a growl of frustration. The true gnome
speaks aloud, and smiles.
'Not today.'
Writer: Emmyth
Date Wed Apr 24 11:32:10 2024
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