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Player Written Story Note Archive

Note: If you see names without the note below, its due to their story not being posted to "All"

Listed By Author Name

Khsianth's Tale: The return of a monk.
X Storm's End - Delivery X
A Descent Into Madness
The Return of Isadore Schwartz? & Joat Tenneal
Stolen again
A Quick Glance and Unloading
A Descent Into Madness (Part 2)
Test Subjects
Test Subjects II
His Servant
The Foretold Prophecy
Rumination
X Feast of the Living and the Dead X
Feast of the Living and the Dead.
Time's Passage: Unanswered Questions
Time's Passage: Unanswered Questions, Part Two
Feast of the Living and the Dead : Preparations
Feast of the Living and the Dead : The Feast
X Forged in Darkness - Buried Secrets X
Blood and Chaos
One small question, from one great love.
Loss' Heartache, Lesson Learned
Lost City - A Cruel Wind
Knock, knock
Things that go -=BUMP=- in the Knight?
Underworld Waylays
Underworld Woes
The Nullstone: Prologue - "Aces Down" Pt. 1
The Nullstone: Prologue - "Aces Down" Pt. 2
Into The Nothing
The Hunt for Apostus
{nAstral Nomad Chronicles: The Arrival | Chapter 2
Faded and Weary
Redemption of a Dark Past





Writer: Khisanth
Date Tue Sep 11 09:09:42 2018

To All (Immortal Kadiya RP) (Blake, Pythia, Tuefry, Myra if you guys are still around)

Subject Khsianth's Tale: The return of a monk.



The temple was empty, no longer did people seek it, in their eyes it was lost.
The cold, damp stone walls had stood for so long, and nothing moved inside it,
only the fog outside seemed to lay still over the floor.

Not a sound was heard, as suddenly a ripple in the fabric of existence caused
the physical world shattered as a form appeared out of the Ethereal.

She stood in the Temple, a yaeini with impeccable, snow-white fur and dressed
in a very simple snow-white robe of the finest silk. Her violet eyes absorbed
the surroundings as she felt herself become physical once more.

Khisanth chuckled silently to herself. This had been Blake's last lesson that
he had taught her. Her thoughts went to her brother, though a human, he was a
impressive person and so powerful. He was her mentor, her brother. Though she
considered him, her only real friend and she stretched out her mind to find a
way to locate him, but there was nothing. She focused her mind, searching out-
wards for any trace of something that would be a close connection to him: His
Oath-brother Tuefry, but no trace of him either, nor of Pythia of Shalonesti.
She continued to search for the others: Myra and Steel, Bystrick of the Gypsy
wagons. Even Dunia was gone - she had died and been called by Kadiya.

As she scanned further out, she could feel the far off presence of other with
gift of manatonics, and blocked herself from their minds. Cloaking her powers
from them was quite hard, but sometimes quite handy.

Then she heard a voice not far off 'Oh...It is only you..I never thought that
'I would be alive to meet anyone of you again'. And a soft chuckle as old and
quiet steps slowly approached her from the library of the temple.




Writer: Nimiane

Date Tue Sep 18 23:49:08 2018




Writer: Zola
Date Thu Sep 20 18:40:12 2018




Writer: Zola
Date Thu Sep 20 18:40:20 2018




Writer: Zola
Date Thu Sep 20 18:45:32 2018

To All Bloodlust Darkonin Shadow Verminasia Thaxanos Ganth Immortals Fatale Kyri Shrek

Subject X Storm's End - Delivery X


Dojia Docks. Night.

A single solitary figure stood watch on the pier furthest west, a shadow
against the night sky, marked only by the lantern held up in his hand.
Marking his position and allowing the incoming vessel to see him. The ship
in question materialized out of the evening fog like a great sea leviathan,
a grand vessel, bristling with armorments and painted a dark red.


The Crimson Tide, flagship of the Bloodlust Fleet.

And there, standing at the end of the gangplank as it was lowered down to
the dock, was none other than the youngest Overlord of the Dungeon. Maccus
Stormbound.


Beneath his mask, Zola's face curled up in disgust as the Overlord swaggered
down the rampart to meet him. It was no secret to anyone who knew the two
of them that they largely despised each other. Maccus had All but declared
he wanted Zola's head on a pike. The Deathscythe, by contrast, found no
harm in such a threat, indeed as a Priest of Fatale he considered it a sign
of respect to be threatened by such a capable warrior, even if (sometimes
especially if) there seemed to be no good reason behind it.


But his hatred of the Dread Pirate was much more fleshed out. Ignoring what
had happened to his own daughter, the sheer mindless indulgence and childish
tantrums of a man who claimed to be his superior were staggering. If not
for the greater glory of the Dungeon, Zola would've made sure to put Maccus'
name at the very top of his list a very long time ago.


For now....

"The product I wrote of, " he intoned coldly, indicating the crates stacked
on the dock beside him. "More than enough to blow a hole through the side
of a mountain."

Maccus face lit up with a grin. "Good work, Spiritualist. And nobody else
knows about this?"

Casting a meaningful glance down at the cold waters below the pier, which
were still reddish with diluted blood, Zola confirmed they were the only
ones in the know.


Taking his hint, Maccus ordered his crew to load up the cargo and set sail.
"You need a ride?" he asked, as close to generous as he ever got.

Shaking his head, Zola stepped back, vanishing into the shadows, displacing
himself from Shokono to instantly return to the Dungeon. Shaking his head,
Maccus could only mutter "showoff" before he snapped orders to his crew to
get in motion, and eagerly made ready for the Crimson Tide to be underway.
The sooner they got back to Bloodlust port, the better.


They still had a lot of work to do.




Writer: Rasavadi

Date Fri Sep 21 21:04:24 2018

To Crelius Jermichael Elathan Nehtur Shadow Verminasia Eclipse All Imm RP Necrucifer

Subject A Descent Into Madness



Rasavadi continued to fall down the whirlpool of his mind. Was it his
mind? The pain was real that much was certain. The severing of his thread
to Drakkara burnt worse than All the tortures he faced at the hands of the
Aspects of Sin. It bloomed like an inferno from his umbilicus through his
spine and into the brain. Lightning like blasts of pain shot through the
rest of his body in time with his rapid-fire heartbeat. Eventually, after
what felt like an eternity, he drifted into blessed unconsciousness.

"This one bears the mark of the Betrayer! Kill it! "

"No! " Growled an authoritative reply. "Look. This mortal has severed its
tie to her.
"

"What is it with these fools coming down here? " Questioned the lesser
daemon.

"The faithful come for answers, ones we cannot give... " Sighed the
greater. "Look at its armor. This one wears the ancient blue cloak of
Eclipse.
"

"Fine, I will not kill it, but it cannot stay here. Her forces come. "

"There are some formerly of its kind still fighting for the Master. They
need reinforcements anyway. Bring it there.
"

The demons carried the unconscious form of Rasavadi to a muster of Knight's.
Rally banners flew high and proud, together were the black of the Storm and
midnight-blue of the Eclipse.

"So. He has made his decision. " Said the shade. "Return him to his
world, now is not the time.
"

"WE DO NOT TAKE ORDERS FROM.... " growled the lesser demon until the great
grabbed it by its throat, choked off its voice, and its life.

"It will be done Highlord. "

True to its word, the greater demon returned Rasavadi to the swamp
surrounding the Reliquary. Finding a large cave he confronted a caged
troll. Mottled green, larger than even the demon, and obviously angry about
its imprisonment it raged in its magical cage. "Do you wish out of here?
"

"GUL SMASH! " Screamed the beast.

"I'll take that as a yes. This one (motioning to the still form of
Rasavadi) is to be returned to Jermichael, Dark Lord of Storm Keep.
Understand?
"

"GUL EAT! "

"YOU WILL DO NOTHING BUT WHAT I ORDER! " Screamed the demon.

"Gul... Gul understand. " Replied the troll.

"Serve them and you will be rewarded. " Said the demon as he destroyed the
locks binding the troll to his prison. Afterward, the demon knelt before
the crumpled heap of unconscious yinn and examined the spectral wound around
his umbilicus. "Blessed Father, I do not know if you can hear me, but I
bring this one to you that they may continue their mission upon Algoron.
"
Placing his hand on Rasavadi's abdomen it began to glow white hot. "Accept
this one unto your fold!
" It bellowed, ramming his entire massive,
white-hot arm through Rasavadi's abdomen and into his thorax searing his
heart.

"Make the world ready for His return. Enlightenment. Unification. The end
of Anarchy. The end of Chaos. The end of balance. Submit or die.
"




Writer: Joat

Date Fri Sep 21 21:48:30 2018

To All Imm Religion Necrucifer Scorn

Subject The Return of Isadore Schwartz? & Joat Tenneal



Joat lay across the floor of the small, poorly lit room. A torch
flickering, barely providing enough illumination to the room.

He struggled on the floor, trying to regain consciousness. Groans
and moans filled the room as bones creeked and cracked as he was
trying to stand to his feet. His cane lay across the room, unable
to provide him with the assistance he needed. His energy was spent
quickly in his trouble to clear his head and stand and he passed
out once more. Everything he could see was black darkness.

The stone door rumbled open slowly and a figure in a dark robe,
completely covering his face, wielding a torch lead Isadore back
into the room. With a raised hand, the dark figure summoned the
door to close again once more, effectively sealing All three
men inside the room.

"Wake him.", came a whispery voice from underneath the hood, as
he gestured towards the unconscious body of the former General
of Verminasia.

There came a pause. A deafeaning silence as Isadore scanned the
room, lifted his head with his hand, and appeared to be contemplating.

'Do ah 'ave to?', Isadore asked, almost not half jokingly, as he looked
towards the dark, robed figure.

A deep heavy sigh came from under the black hooded robe of the man.
'He is important in All of this, whether you like it or not. You have
been told what is at stake and what has happened. Again, wake him.'

Isadore refocused his gaze upon Joat Tenneal, laying prone upon the
floor. The High Priest shrugged his shoulders before catching a
glimpse of Joat's cane laying across the room.

He moved across the room, picked up Joat's cane and approached the
form of the former General, laying across the floor. At first he poked
at him with the pointy end of the cane. No response. He then switched
sides and started slapping Joat in the face with the curved end of the
cane. This illicited a response.

"What happened?", Joat queried as he struggled to get to his feet,
clutching hold of the cane being outstreched by Isadore.

'Ya bet'er sit down f'r this.', Isadore quipped as Joat Tenneal took
his place once more on the stone bench in the tiny, barely torch lit
room. The dark robed figure still standing near the doorway observant
of the current activities.

Joat rubbed his forehead and temples, trying to clear away the fog.
He suddenly noticed the dark robed figure and attempted to leap from
his seat in an apparent attack, yet the figure simply lifted his hand
and Joat was held in place on the bench. "This is far from over!",
yelled the old General as Isadore simply shook his head.

"Necrucifer aes dead.", stated Isadore simply, attempting to get the
meeting back on track.

'What?', Joat asked, genuinely suprised. 'Dead? How? The master of all
Darkness? And he's dead? You've got to be kidding me.'


(More to come. Written with permission & cooperation from Isadore Schwartz)
storyn post
look
score
score
look




Writer: Grokkel

Date Sun Sep 23 17:24:35 2018

To All Religion Drakkara ( IMM RP )

Subject Stolen again



*Sitting in the lower levels of the towers*

*A quiet whisper from the darkest corner of the room, "Grokkel.."*

Ssshow yourself and die!

*Grokkel's body becoming incapable of movement. Mind unable to function, "BE STILL!"*

"Why do you worry yourself of this material world and its false light?.
All of this world is mine. Know that I am one and completely whole. All things
happen within my darkness now.. The light is turned on within me.. Even the
chaos of this world is a minor visitor to my body existing as a temporary
sickness. The moons move through me. The stars my messengers.. Why do you
think I allow your master his position? He will be my avatar for a time as
I prepare the minds of my followers to see the fullness of my ascension to
prepare them for their tasks to come in the hereafter.. Those in her
darkness will be reborn anew with more power than can be imagined.
You were All meant to be more.. More than this current mind and body will
allow.. NOW WAKE!"

*Regaining a sense of body he watches as his very life force is drawn back
into body through the air of his breath"

Twice now.. That is TWICE!!

*Shuffling through numerous volumes in the Black Towers libraries*
NONE OF THIS IS HERE!
NONE OF IT!

"All godssz pawnss? Light. Dark.. Actorssz? Chaos just missin puzzle piecessz?
What power Gobbo getssz in afterlife?"

*Lightning a Magenta Candle in the dark, "Drakkara, Queen of all, give gobbo
strength, patience, wisszdom.."*

-Archmagus Grokkel
Black Robes




Writer: Maithion

Date Mon Sep 24 22:20:01 2018

To Bloodlust Shadow Fatale All ( Kyri Tashio Shrek RP Religion )

Subject A Quick Glance and Unloading



The Overlord of the Dread Pirates had two tasks for Maithion. The first
was completed with no casualties as he came back to the Dungeon. There
wasn't a need to draw blades, it was a reconnaissance mission of Storm Keep.
The assassin never liked the location of the Keep, he felt there was too
much sand and not enough shade, but he was able to watch from the shadows
the moon's light had casted on the dunes surrounding the old trade road.

He had to give it ot them, the Knights of Storm, they held fast and strong
to their beliefs, and the keep was definetly not abaddoned. Movement was
all about, but not just with humans, yinnae were present. None that he saw
usually on the field.

Maithion would give his report to Maccus after the unloading was done.

Minions of the Dungeon, All of varied races except kender, began the work of
unloading the crates that the Spiritualist had loaded in from Shokono. He
especially watched how they were handled when set on the pier. He was dead
already, but he did not want to be dead and blown into little pieces. A
yell from the gang plank was heard and Maithion's gaze shot to the stumbling
human as others quickly moved out of the way. The minion dropped the crate,
landing at Maithion's boots and the soon regretful man behind the goods.

Without word or a hesitation, Maithion snatched the man up to his feet and
drew a dagger from his vest and slit the man's throat and dropped him like
he was less than piece of garbage.

Maithion's eyes flashed a bright amber then returned to their normal hue as
he stepped into the portal to bring him inside from the pier to let the
Warlord and Overlord know the cargo had been brought home.




Writer: Gur'geraal

Date Tue Sep 25 13:17:14 2018

To Crelius Jermichael Elathan Nehtur Tamaska Nymaya Gur'geraal Shadow Verminasia Eclipse All Imm RP Necrucifer

Subject A Descent Into Madness (Part 2)



Gur'geraal rubbed his wrists, still trying to wiggle his massive fists
from the shackles still bound around them. He glared over at the assembly
of demons that had just released him from his bonds, that still stood
encircling the yinnae lying on the ground.

Gur'geraal remembered what the largest of the demons said to him "This one
(motioning to the still form of Rasavadi) is to be returned to Jermichael,
Dark Lord of Storm Keep. Understand?"

A guttural grunt erupted from the troll gaining the attention of the demons
as the Greater turned his gaze upon Gur'geraal. "What do you want troll."
Was spoken, more of a statement than a question.

Gur'geraal thumped his fist upon his bare chest and stared at his extended
arms, only adorned with the shackles around his wrist and a few remaining
metal links. The rest of the troll was bare, though his thick hide provided
more than adequate protection. The Greater pondered for a moment and then
waved his clawed hands at a stack of rusted metal in the back of the cave.
The metal began to hum and glow as it slowly levitated inches in the air as
it slowly twisted, making an eerie sound resembling nails on a chalkboard
sound, and took the shape of sheets of plate metal with jagged spikes
affixed to the surface. The lessors hurriedly placed the metal plates upon
the troll and fashioned them firmly with leather straps.

"Troll take to Storm Keep" Gur'geraal grunted to the Greater and received an
approving nod in response. "If anything happens to the yinnae I will come
back for you. The pain will be unbearable this time. Do you understand."
Came from the Greater, his simple glare causing a burning sensation in the
troll's head. "Troll keep safe" was All Gur'geraal was able to respond
through the searing pain.

A radiating red portal appeared with another wave of the Greater's hand.
The lessors stepped through the portal one by one back to the Abyss with the
Greater waiting until last. "What are you waiting for troll. Get moving!"
Was the last thing that was said to Gur'geraal before the Greater stepped
into the portal as it faded into nothingness.

The troll picked up the limp body of Rasavadi and slung him over his
shoulder. Gur'geraal slowly began making his way to Storm Keep.




Writer: Dra'toth

Date Tue Sep 25 13:26:25 2018




Writer: Maithion

Date Thu Sep 27 07:20:04 2018

To Bloodlust Shadow Eclipse All Fatale ( Imm RP Religion Kyri Shrek Tashio Scorn )

Subject Test Subjects



The Althainian guard stretched his arms above his head and yawned as he
looked up to the starry night sky. He shook his head to wake himself up
some and decided to take a small walk to get the blood pumping. Maithion on
the other hand was waiting in the shadows just a few yards outside the city
of Light. He heard the guard move past the gates then the grocer. The
shadowed elf made his move.

A cold hand covered the guard's nose and mouth and a well muscled and
tattooed arm wrapped around thee neck, cutting off the airway. The guard
slumped against Maithion's chest and the elf let him fall to the ground. A
small group of Dread Pirates picked the unconscious guard up by the feet and
arms and tossed him in a cart with unresponsive and poor souls who had no
idea what their fate would be.

Maithion covered the cart back up with an old worn and dirty wool blanket
and nodded, letting the small contingent know to bring the test subjects
back to the Dungeon's pier.

The undead assassin slipped into the shadows and instead of heading back on
the Crimson Tide, he decided to take a small walk, he was hungry and would
find a meal along the road.




Writer: Maithion

Date Thu Sep 27 08:36:57 2018

To Bloodlust Shadow Eclipse All Fatale ( Imm RP Religion Kyri Shrek Tashio Scorn )

Subject Test Subjects II



Maithion stepped out of the shadows of the Dungeon's pier and waited for
the cart of people to be brought off the boat. He looked down at his vest
and noticed a piece of something, definetly flesh, but from what part of a
body he didn't know. He wiped it off and thought nothing else about it.

The cart was still covered with the dirty and old wool blanket and he could
hear, as they were being called, the test subjects stirring. Some groaning
in pain, others speaking in hushed tones of fear.

One of them wouldn't stop talking and the assassin heard the voice ask about
borrowing another's pocket watch, then asking if anyone had food or candy.
Maithion closed his eyes and sighed while he pinched the bridge of his nose.
He muttered something about the contingent actually snatching a kender.

The wilder from Abaddon and the Dungeon threw the blanket back to see the
subjects look at him in fear. His amber eyes flashed a brighter hue then
settled to their normal color. Then there was the kender. The small
creature looked at Maithion not in fear, but more in confusion and started
to ask when breakfast was, then lunch, would they get to play.

Maithion threw the blanket back over the cart in a failed hope it would
muffle the kender's talking. It did not. It just talked louder. He
congratulated the soon to be deceased for aiding in the test they were going
to be a part of. He would make sure the kender was strapped to the biggest
firework or whatever explosive Zola had procured from Shokono.




Writer: Rayvenna

Date Sat Sep 29 22:58:53 2018




Writer: Symantha
Date Tue Oct 2 03:30:59 2018

To All Shadow Vincent Zayk ( Imm Necrucifer RP )

Subject His Servant



The weather was turning.

She'd been living in Storm Keep now for decades and this was nothing new but
as she stood atop the black battlement, gazing out on the moonlit sands,
there was no comfort in 'familiar' or 'tradition'.

An ominous hush lay over the Keep itself, even here she could not escape it.
The wind was bitterly cold, a strong northeasterly breeze that carried on it
the scent of sand and the hint of ocean.

None of this was new, nor was any of it the same. At least, not this empty
feeling into which pebbles fell without causing a ripple. She gazed down as
the wind tugged a strand of curls across her face, to slowly burnish the
shallow black scar on her palm and wondered at All she had done and
witnessed. At what was left.

The Knights of Shadow had been founded for fairly specific purposes.
Reasons that revolved around Necrucifer, His teachings. The question on
every mind was 'What now?'.

She mulled it over and over and over and while she did so, she lifted her
gaze to wander the roadway. Her path had taken her to the obsidian gate and
from that place, she observed the lights of New Thalos illuminating the sky.

The answers were well known, steeped in time and tradition, and most
solutions presented remained highly circumstantial. Faith was All any of
them had. Well, faith and battle; The two constants for the soldiers of
Storm Keep, though the former had suffered badly and the latter was flagging.

The Cardinal didn't feel the cold, not as she used to, but drew her cloak
around her a little tighter anyway and narrowed a steely gaze at the return
of a small scouting party. The pair of soldiers were composed but there was
a new tightness in every action. Mechanical motions. She was seen atop the
wall and saluted before the gate was drawn open for them to enter.

Silence followed again, once the sound of their steeds had departed into the
Keep and she contemplated her failure to the mournful lifting of the wind.

Then she contemplated atonement.

Her prayers were a private matter but on this subject, anyone who knew the
deities of Darkness should have been aware: There was always a cost for
failure and failure on this level would likely demand an equal sort of
penance. Her own experiences affirmed this though the death of Necrucifer
certainly complicated the matter. It could even be considered as the cost
itself.

She was His servant, as always and ever. How could she ever be anything
else? There was a path she could descend upon and she considered it as she
stared into the desert night.

Knowing it would be an end - her end - and a beginning.

She lingered in the dark for many more hours, her steps slow and thoughtful
as she made her way around Storm Keep's battlements and only when the steel
light of dawn began to show along the horizon did she return within.




Writer: Zayk
Date Wed Oct 3 20:58:13 2018

To All Shadow Symantha ( RP imm Necrucifer )

Subject The Foretold Prophecy



His wife was still gripped by exhaustion and deeply asleep when he
slipped from bed, donning a robe as he did.

It wasn't restlessness that kept him from sleep, it was fervor, but as he
made his way to the fireplace through the deep chill of an autumn night to
stoke it he found his gaze drawn back to the bed.

They were both servants of the Master. Dead or alive, that didn't change.
He recognized, however, that she was not the same. She had always been
remote, possessed by religious zeal and undaunted no matter what trial lay
before them but he knew the years of watching her teachings fall on deaf
ears and return as lip service were wearing. For All their dedication, they
were still mortal - human.

Unity in the Darkness, the lifelong goal of His priests, His true followers
and Shadow had returned as lip service at best.

He turned his gaze from the drape of the blanket along her leg, which had
drawn out from beneath the cover, to watch the lick of the flames as they
caught on a fresh log and kindling. Anger followed the understanding,
though it was hardly new.

He was not possessed of uncertainty though. Not in the slightest. He knew
exactly where to go from this hollow place, a point he had made with her the
day previous, though it had taken him some time and depths of prayer in the
cloistured Sanctum.

He and the true Knights of Storm Keep had not come All this way to fail.
Too poignant had been their trials which, they had come through time and
again. They would make it through this one and prove once again to Algoron
and the Gods that they were true servants.

"No." He growled low, to himself, and his fist clenched.

The rise of dark power he channelled was still strong, still potent, and it
dampened the flames of the fire as it grew.

"Death is patient.." He recited to himself and then rose from the
fireplace, to glance back at his sleeping wife - a Cardinal of their Eternal
Master.

Necrucifer would rise, as His prophecy foretold.




Writer: Vincent

Date Thu Oct 4 09:17:29 2018

To Shadow Zayk Symantha All ( Necrucifer Ampersand Imm RP )

Subject Rumination



The hollow eyes of Vincent de Vere beset the reflective surface before
them with their unyielding gaze. Through them, the archfiend kept an
unblinking watch upon the world of mortals. With de Vere's long awaited
surrender, Xaran'xaxes had sloughed off the last remaining vestiges of the
man's humanity.

It was no person, creature, or object of interest at which the demon stared,
but one of Storm Keep's interior walls. A certain comfort, if only in the
sense of familiarity, was found in the abyssal depths of the black, polished
marble. It reminded him of "home."

To say that he missed the Infernal Planes would be a false assumption, for
the Abyss was an unwelcoming place even to its native denizens. What
Xaran'xaxes longed for was not a return to his own realm, for this was an
uncomplicated task, but to possess his own form in the material plane of
Algoron. Necrucifer's dominion over this Realm would see that desire sated
and his task fulfilled.

He loathed the frailties of the mortal body. Where once a crown of horns
graced his head, now a mane of raven hair covered his fleshy scalp. In the
place of rending claws grew brittle nails, hardly suited for combat. A void
was left where the magnificent wings of osseous tendrils and blackened,
leathery flesh sprouted from his back and once bore him aloft. The bony,
spiked, and segmented lash of his tail had been amputated. His spine now
ended abruptly at the base of his haunches, a posterior good only for
sitting. It was no surprise that the mortals prized their arms and armor,
for little else shielded them from the relentless grasp of Death.

The Knights of Storm Keep. The mortal champions of his creator. The
beating of their hearts echoed along the halls and throughout the hold's
sizable chambers. Even more so than their scent, each thumping rhythm was
distinct to its owner. As the weight of doubt lifted from their minds, so
did the palpable taste of fear diminish.

For the first time in his lengthy existence, the fiend was made to instill
courage instead of terror in the minds of mortals. The notion was foreign
and strange, yet the devout had now cleaved from the impious and soon their
crusade would resume in earnest.

His mind returned to the present and his eyes withdrew from the expanse of
his inner thoughts.

Xaran'xaxes lingered to study the man staring back at him through the
marble's reflection. For over a century, de Vere had been his closest
confidant - a captive imprisoned in his own flesh - but now only a shell
remained. Another alien feeling tugged at him as the demon pondered the
tragic fate he had condemned the once simple farmer to endure. Was it
guilt? Remorse? The unease was difficult to name and not worth the time to
explore.

A pair of sounding drums beckoned the fiend's attention as the familiar
hearts of Zayk Atennim and Symantha Kesepton returned to the keep. With a
final glance at the Human reflected in the polished, obsidian wall,
Xaran'xaxes of the Infernal Planes melded with the shadows and went to meet
his comrades in faith.

From the dark, the demon whispered consolation into the winds.

"He should have known the price of Evil."




Writer: Zola
Date Thu Oct 4 20:02:04 2018

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Immortals Cayenna Shrek Rhien Ampersand

Subject X Feast of the Living and the Dead X


Pleased by the sight before him, Zola took his seat at the head of the
blackened dreadwood table, casting his hollow gaze out across the delicious
array of offerings found spread across its fine silken covering.
Skull-shaped sweet bread. Cauldron Soup. {oPumpkin Pie. {pElven Hearts.
Someone had even brought a Poison Apple cut into slices. And of course, his
own entry: an ancient, vintage bloodwine of very rare year. As guests began
to arrive, he bid them All add their offerings to the table, and welcomed
them to the feast.


When it was time to begin, Zola took the time to draw back his heavy leather
hood and unlock the clasps of his ever-present mask, which released a
hollow, metallic breath as he drew it away from his head, revealing his
face. Most present had never seen it before. He looked at once both young
and old, haggard, his face weathered by time and lined with sleepless lines,
as if he had not slept in the last... ever, really. His gaze was cold but
his smile lit up with sharp white teeth as he set his mask aside and
reached
for the bottle chilling in ice by his elbow. Popping the cork of his
ancient vintage with his thumb, he poured himself a glass full of the sweet
red liquid, then offered it around the table to those others who wished to
sample it.

His hollow gaze swept the table as he beheld the guests who'd come, both the
living and the dead. Though many did not know it, or could not see them,
the spirits were gathering even now. With the Day of the Dead on the
horizon, the barrier between the realms was weakening, allowing visitors
from the Void to join them. And they were hungry indeed. He spied at least
one ghost that flitted through the figure of Karian, stealing a loaf of
skull-shaped bread off of the table before she herself could try
it. One of
the skeletal guards even wandered in, standing at attention by the Warlord
Boof as he ate. Whether on guard for him or from him, his presence was
welcome enough amongst the gathered killers, creatures, and mischief makers.

Even a dragon had deigned to join them, a great Blue whose rumbling laughter
made the entire table shake, settled into the street at the far end of the
table, opposite Zola. He raised more than a few interesting points as
conversation flowed like wine, easy and enjoyable.

The evening wore on as the trio of moons climbed higher in the night sky.
Some hardier souls tried the more... Dangerous delectables. The
goblinoids, of course, loved the poisoned apples, and even Zola had to admit
they had a certain kick to them. They tasted like death itself... Quite
the interesting flavor. But some others couldn't quite tolerate the food
and had to leave to see a healer, or else found it growing too late with
work to do in the morning. As more of the living left, more of the dead
swarmed in, spirits and ghosts flittering in amongst the guests, always on
the edge of their vision, in the corner of their eyes. Some sitting right
beside them, in seemingly empty seats, as they snatched up morsels to
satisfy their own terrible hunger.

Zola didn't even notice his pomegranite cheesecake was gone until he glanced
down and found his plate empty save for a few morsels. Chuckling darkly, he
drank another sip of his blood wine, finding it All very amusing.

In the morning the spirits would fade away in the cursed sunlight, but they
would be back. The Day of the Dead was coming, and Zola intended those
coming to know they were both remembered and respected. The Feast went on
until everyone was satisfied. There was no ritual, no service, no ceremony.
But there was a grand purpose, and Zola grinned darkly as he saw it
fulfilled by those gathered this evening.

What came next... was going to be glorious.




Writer: Draeksin

Date Fri Oct 5 09:36:14 2018

To All Abaddon Bloodlust Immortals Dragoth

Subject Feast of the Living and the Dead.



Draeksin watched Zola take his seat upon his impressive throne of bones,
at the head of the table. He admired the throne very briefly, as he made
his way to the table after Zola had sat. After momentarily considering how
the bones were cleaned, his attention turned toward the table. The table
was full, the offerings varied and plentiful. Not short of his own
festering offerings, of course. A rotten arm, and some rotting meat that he
had personally prepared. His thoughts began to drift, gazing at the
gathering, Zola. He mused on future conversations regarding disease and the
undead. However, tonight was not just about Dragoth. The food was
disappearing quickly. It disappeared more quickly after Boof arrived.

The conversations shifted from food and greetings. Economics, the status
and going ons of Bloodlust. The status of Abaddon and the efforts underway
of what should be done to help the dead city live again. Draeksin listened,
and dismissed them. As he had said before, Abaddon will spread. It was
nothing that concerned him at the moment. However, he did enter the fray of
conversation with Asmodai to clear up a matter about how blood congeals. He
took a moment for his poison penance, and watched others do the same,
satisfied. Even if they were not fully aware. Even if they did not take
the poisons daily, as he did. He was pleased. The poisons would spread
through them, and he muttered a small prayer for them. Even the dragon
partook, and he was honored.

The poisons would spread but, for now, there was the dead to consider. The
day was coming, the hour delightfully late. It was time to depart, and
check on his maggots.




Writer: Kaeira

Date Sat Oct 6 10:10:28 2018

To All Knighthood Shadow ( Imm ) Austinian

Subject Time's Passage: Unanswered Questions




Time has a curious way of changing things. Or rather, it was not time itself
that was a factor, but that time allowed for change in that it allowed for things
to happen; time allowed thought and experience. Time was where things could be
born, or die, and time was where things could grow or stagnate. Time, it was said
was the Great Equalizer of All things for it was time that grew mountains and yet
would bring them low again; time allowed the birth of Legends and also sealed the
Fate that bound All living creatures in that one day they would perish and make a
path for those to come. Time raised the sun and set it. Time orchestrated each of
the moon phases. Time gave birth to stars and then buried them in darkness.

So it was that with time's passage Kaeira changed, too.

She was no longer a wandering Storyteller, no longer simply a soul redeemed and
still uncertain. She no longer saw herself as a slightly-gangly youth that had
too much energy to spare. Yes, she still talked probably way too much, though.

Now, she was a Knight. A Dame of the Order of the Shield. She was a Sister to
Enora, her fellow Shield Knight, the first family she had ever truly claimed,
even if their bond was one chosen and not of blood. She saw it as no less true,
and no less powerful. Perhaps it was more so? She had nothing to compare it to.

Sitting in the Octagonal Temple of Gareth's Keep, she rested on the scuffed
stone within the arch of her chosen Virtue, Compassion. This allowed her steely
eyes to roam over All of the others, marking them one at a time. As she did so
she toyed with the star-shaped charm that dangled against her breast, the pads
of her fingers warming the ceramic while they explored the glossy, smooth
indicator of her station -- a Knight of the Templar Brotherhood. Something that
she would never be able to confess to, or declare, to anyone outside of their
ranks. That she could still imagine the sting on her cheek reminded her that
her achievements were real, her vows binding.

Resting across her lap, her long legs stretched out before her, was a trio of
old tomes, each one marked with a different icon, though a scholarly eye would
know each of them to have belonged to Serpantol's rune system. Her other hand
balanced the tomes in a near-lazy manner, though she was mindful of their age
and their importance. She would have to find the time to read through each of
their content's again soon, and begin organizing a true plan and quest, but for
the time being her eyes drifted between the murals and the crisp parchment at
her side that bore only a title: "The Virtues of Gareth's Keep".

A frown tugged at her lips and pinched the skin between her eyebrows lightly.
Though Mercerion had assured her that All seeking the Chancel seemed to run in-
to the same troubles of attempting to not simply repeat the precise words of
those before them, it still troubled her. Sir Falric Marwyn had set the bar
high, and while she felt that was as it should be, it made things trying for
those like her who found the need to walk her own path and not take too heav-
ily from any one particular source. What could she say that he had not already
articulated?




Writer: Kaeira

Date Sat Oct 6 10:12:50 2018

To All Knighthood Shadow ( Imm ) Austinian

Subject Time's Passage: Unanswered Questions, Part Two




Not quite having learned the art of "proper prayer" or even meditation, Kae's
mind began to wander, as it often did. She liked to tell people that she didn't
pray so much as she tended to have a running dialogue with Austinian, like a
good friend who was always patient enough to listen to her ramblings without a
lick of judgment. Well, at least not as long as she behaved herself, which she
truly hoped she did most of the time. She had to watch her tendancy to over-
react, but she felt she was getting better at that.

And she realized that was mostly thanks to Damerus. The man had a way of
putting just the right questions to her that made her take a step back and work
out her emotions, which usually lead to her thoughts clearing up. Maybe that
was a kind of meditation? She wasn't sure and as a bit of restlessness struck
her she moved the books from her lap to one of her enchanted pockets, feeling
their weight dwindle away to nearly nothing as they vanished from plain sight.

She pulled a loaf of bread from a different pocket and tore off a pinch to
chew on. Her gaze returned to the murals of the Virtues and she sighed out of
her nose while her teeth worked the soft, grain-laden sustenance.

She found herself missing Meroveus. Her first Mentor had a brilliant way of
getting her to think differently -- of getting her off the beaten path and
turning her thoughts down a different trail that had been hidden from view. It
had been truly enlightening listening to his tales, conversing with him. She
did not like admitting, even to herself, that she did not feel there were many
left within Gareth for her to learn from. She felt on even footing with most
of the other Knights that appeared when it came to their purpose and being
able to debate her views and how they tied into her faith and her cause. She
liked it when those like Meroveus could throw her off, could truly yank the
rug out from under her, so to speak. When she was unbalanced she was able to
find new solutions and new views that helped her grow as a person and as a
Knight of the Keep.

She was stagnating in her growth.

But wasn't it her own responsibility to go out and learn from others? Was
it not within her own power to seek different ideas and views and to engage
with those that would not normally discuss these kinds of things? She already
had an offer from Damerus to talk over these things, and that would certainly
help, but she knew, too, they seemed to think greatly alike and a rippling
pond was still a mirror, of sorts. She bit lightly on her bottom lip. So who
was it that she could speak with?

Immediately, only one answer came to mind.

The only question there was if one of their Order would engage her in not
simply debate, but a deep discussion of philosophy.




Writer: Karian

Date Sun Oct 7 00:02:50 2018

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Immortals

Subject Feast of the Living and the Dead : Preparations


Karian whistled a little tune as she added All the ingredients together
and mixed them well, setting the dough to one side to let it rise on it's
own. As she waited for the dough, she moved a large pot to the stove and
gathered the ingredients to make the hot chocolate, also setting a smaller
pot on the other burner, to melt caramel candies she had bought in a
Verminasian shop. A bucket of vanilla ice cream sat in the ice box, keeping
cooled. Traditional offerings for a feast dedicated to the dead, or at
least she had heard these were some of the things that were often offered.

The blonde young woman finished kneading the dough, separating it into
smaller loaves and shaping them into small skulls, using her thumbs to make
dents on the dough in order to create the eyes, before putting them in the
oven to bake. Returning to the stove, the young woman checks on the hot
chocolate and melted caramel, stirring each individually and turning the
heat off, before going to the cupboard to gather the large mugs she had
purchased for the Feast.

Karian pours a little of the caramel onto each mug, twirling it around so
the sticky sweet treat covers the inside of the glass, before filling each
with the cooled hot chocolate, adding a large scoop of the vanilla ice cream
to it. She tops the float with whipped cream, chocolate shavings, a drizzle
of caramel and sprinkles sea salt crystals over the top. With a pleased
smile, she sets the large mugs to one side and makes her way quickly to the
oven, opening it and using baking mitts to pull the tray out with the
breads, letting them cool.

Karian gives a slight smile as she finishes the decorations on the small,
skull-shaped sweet breads, having used a white glaze to make the faces and
black-colored sugar for their eyes. She places All the little loaves into a
basket, using another one for the drinks, then looks around the kitchen to
make sure she hasn't forgotten anything before she turns and leave, making
her way to the meeting place for the Feast of the Dead.





-Continue




Writer: Karian

Date Sun Oct 7 00:06:27 2018

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Immortals

Subject Feast of the Living and the Dead : The Feast


She arrived on time, stepping through the portal and walking to the table
to set her own offerings among the rest. Giving a polite nod to the
Cardinal and the two Abaddonian males present. The announcement of the
Feast beginning soon was called again to inform everyone they still had time
to arrive, while those present moved to the table to take their places, with
the Cardinal sitting at the head of the table, waiting. Among those
arriving with offerings was the Warlord of Bloodlust, another Abaddonian,
the General of Arkane, and even a magnificent great blue dragon, All drawn
to partake of this Feast of the Dead.

The feast began with an ancient, extremely rare vintage bloodwine, then the
food was sampled. She had a slice of some delicious pumpkin pie, a bowl of
black cauldron soup, an elven heart with hot spices, and even a small slice
of a poisoned apple, partaking of delicacies here and there, although
avoiding some of the offerings like the rotten meat.

As the meal progressed and others of the living joined their table, a
wavering image caught Karian's attention right at the corner of her eye for
a brief second before it disappeared. Soon, the living were no longer alone
as the dead began to arrive and move around the table to also enjoy the
foods and drinks, themselves. Some foods disappeared from the living's
plate, others from the serving trays. A hand passed against Karian's arm,
making the young woman shiver enough to draw attention and an offer from the
Firstborn present about visiting the warm sands of the desert to take the
cold away.

Conversation ebbed and flowed easily at this gathering, both living and dead
enjoying the feast, some aware of each other and while some remained
completely unaware, as the evening carried on till midnight. At last the
feast ended for the living, each rising from the table and giving their
thanks and farewells, leaving behind what remained of the delicious feast
for the dead to enjoy, as even more arrived through the thin veil.




Writer: Zola
Date Wed Oct 10 17:55:56 2018

To All Bloodlust Verminasia Thaxanos Ganth Immortals Fatale Kyri Shrek

Subject X Forged in Darkness - Buried Secrets X


Sweeping through the catacombs, the silent hooded figure left behind
scarcely a trace of his presence, not a disturbed footprint in the dust, not
a whisper on the breeze. Even so, a horrible chill, worse than the cold of
death, settled over the tombs. Rats and spiders scurried into their hidey
holes as the figure passed.


And the dead, of course, well, the dead no longer were able to care about
such things.


Reaching the deepest part of the crypt, Zola took a moment to hold up his
gloved hand and conjure a ball of fire in his palm to light his way. While
he was able to see in the dark as easily as any creature of the night, it
was an imperfect vision based on sensing ambient heat sources (or lack
thereof). When it came to reading fine print, this was the preferred
method. Along the wall was the message, and he peered up at his with his
hollow gaze as the flames flickered in thedarkness.


"Mors linies intrinsecus et extrinsecus"

Translated from the Old Serpantol into the modern tongue, Death Within and
Without. This was the place.


Unsheathing his sword from his belt, Zola thrust the sharpened tip between
the heavy stone lid and the coffin, prying it off and tossing it aside with
a minimum of effort. Great clouds of dust rose up as he waved them angrily
away, anxious to peer within.


So far as public knowledge went, this was the crypt of an ancient family of
sorcerers, who had practiced their magical arts during the infancy days of
the Conclave. In particular, this grave was supposed to be the resting
place of a powerful necromancer. In reality, the tomb was empty, not even
bones were interred within. The archmagi in question had been disintegrated
during one of his more wild experiments, with nothing left to bury but a
memory.


A memory... And his research. Reaching within, the Deathscythe gently
pulled out a rolled up scroll hidden at the foot of the coffin. Gentle,
mindful of how fragile it was, he unrolled it and lay it flat against the
lid, drawing out his flame once again to view its contents. A wave of
elation washed over him as he saw they were exactly what he was looking for.

This was it. This was the ritual meant to imbue weapons with the power of
the Gods themselves. Instruments with unparalleled lethal power. Quickly
he scanned the requirements. Some troublesome, others dangerous. No
sacrifice, no glory, after all. But with enough pain and blood, it would be
possible.

He would have to begin immediately.




Writer: Geirhart

Date Wed Oct 10 20:01:38 2018

To Carrionmaw All Austinian

Subject Blood and Chaos



The doors slammed shut and left the Deacon shivering before the statue of
Necrucifer in the Cathedral. The word "Unity" stood before him mockingly.



Conversations with dragons were never easy. They had long lives and their
thoughts where equally large in content. Yet the Priest understood that he
had errored in his thoughts.

He believed that the Darkness could unify easily under a single banner if
prodded but this was naive. The decent into Chaos continued to fall and
only a strong hand could pull it back. The dragon's thoughts on other dark
clergy were also striking. The Deacon realized that some were far more
dangerous than he imagined with far reaching plans.

Death. Chaos. Pain. His faith was supposed to be a salve but in this, he
was but a spectator. Strength and domination were the tools of the
Darkness, ideals he didn't fully understand but now, with this perspective,
Geirhart realized the true levels of mistrust and anger that burned between
all the dark factions.

As he looked over the Temple, he wondered about his own God. Did Austinian
feel more sadness for the loss of his Brother or for the Chaos that was
caused due to Necrucifer's death.

The priest gathered his items and left the temple, the icy doors closing
with the finality of a tomb.




Writer: Ptithimir
Date Mon Oct 15 23:48:17 2018




Writer: Ptithimir
Date Tue Oct 16 00:03:20 2018




Writer: Ptithimir
Date Tue Oct 16 00:29:05 2018




Writer: Ptithimir
Date Tue Oct 16 00:41:30 2018




Writer: Ptithimir
Date Tue Oct 16 01:07:39 2018




Writer: Ptithimir
Date Tue Oct 16 01:22:56 2018




Writer: XiaXia
Date Tue Oct 16 10:03:14 2018

To Shalonesti All ( Imm Taliena Religion RP )

Subject One small question, from one great love.



It finally happened. Symiad and XiaXia were engaged. It seems like a
century that they were together and had never found the time to make their
relationship official. The Songmaster had many responsibilities within the
Vallens, and on the battlefield. The Priestess had responsibilities
spreading the word of Taliena and tending to the wellbeing of All within the
fray. They were content with things the way they were.

The morning when Symiad presented XiaXia with the ring, the morning he took
a knee and proposed, happiness and love flooded her so completely and
sparked a deep and sudden realization. Through the years of preaching the
word of Taliena, oftentimes her own happiness took a backseat. A priestess
must be selfless, yes? The flock comes before the shepherd. This new rush
of emotions made her think, can one effectively preach what they do not
practice to the fullest extent? Sure, she was filled with happiness on a
daily basis, the love for her people was ever present, but that next step,
that growth, had been put off for the sake of others. Now she would begin
giving attention to an overlooked part of herself and she could feel more of
her potential beginning to unlock-- All thanks to one small question, from
one great love.

From this moment on she would be better as a leader, more effective as a
guide, and stronger as a vessel for the Word of Taliena.




Writer: Kaeira
Date Tue Oct 16 11:02:19 2018

To All Knighthood ( Imm ) Austinian Spyre Staldrache

Subject Loss' Heartache, Lesson Learned



Her heart ached.

As hard as she tried to be only happy and grateful for everything the sorrow
always seemed to sweep in at unexpected moments. She despised being the weepy
type, even if afterwards her head and spirit always felt a little more clear,
even if it was reassuring that her heart remained tender and compassionate. It
still did her no good to cry for the past, to grieve All over again for the
loss of opportunity.

She missed him regardless.

In the quiet solitude of Gareth's Observatory Kaeira gripped the material of
her great coat over her heart. Sinking to her knees she let the rough bark of
the willow tree support her head as she gave into quiet tears that beckoned
sobs she could no longer hold back.

How many years now since she had last seen him? How many days since he had
put his coat around her shoulders to stave off the cold? How many nights since
she had seen his smile or heard his laugh? Yes, he was only Asleep, like so
very many of their kind. Yes, perhaps if she tried her hardest she might even
rouse him from his slumber in the depths of his lair. He was safe.

Yet it still hurt.

He had promised her when she was Knighted they would celebrate.

And then she had never seen him again, her words falling on thin, frosty air.

The tears began to make her throat burn and she coughed, turning around to
sit with her back against the tree instead. Through blurred vision she looked
up to an intimately familiar sight. Her eyes roamed over the owl as it was de-
picted, frozen eternally in its pose as a representation of the God of Good
Magics. She was the human. She was supposed to succumb first. Not him. He was
stronger than she could ever hope to be and yet it was his form beneath the
ice and the snow. Her hands curled into fists as helplessness surged behind
her breast with an agonizing twist.

She breathed deeply. Once. Twice. Until she lost count. Until the pain eased
and her tears finally dried up. She used her coat sleeve to dry her eyes and
her cheeks, coughing a little as she swallowed over the fire of her raw throat.

It might have been one thing were it only one, but then another had she met.
Another had become her friend and a mentor, an example of what she hoped and
aspired to be. An ideal of near-perfection of Knightly standards she could only
hope and work toward. In her unexpected leave, he, too, had succumbed. In recent
days she had spoken with the Steel, doing her best to hide her tears as an awful
sense of portent had stolen over her -- that it would be their final shared
words. The rawness of it had left her reeling, old wounds torn wide, and when he
had departed she had shuddered with the overbearing sensation that she had lost
in surety her Mentor.

She had been warned dragons could be hard to deal with. No one had told her it
was because of how hard her heart would break.

When she felt composed, her eyes no longer hot, she headed back to more busy
parts of the Keep. There was always work to be done. She couldn't be sad forever.




Writer: Telthian
Date Thu Oct 18 21:53:35 2018

To All Verminasia ( imm Religion )

Subject Lost City - A Cruel Wind


--*--

There is an unbidden call to answer
beneath a far and painted glacial peak.
I will not pray for death to take her
but use my own cold and tired hands
to put right the traitor's sin that left
a throne turn to ash, and dynasty failed.
Vengeance grant us the means to atone
until the mourning bell rings once again
embers rise reborn from seething ashes

Before the fire fades again.

--*--

The cold was almost a bitter comfort in a world where everything else had
changed.

The wind whipped the loose unpacked snow back and forth as the gale twisted
around the formation of jagged rocks and ice descending down from Eastdrift
into the snowplain below. Icewall had grown no kinder in the weeks that
passed, and if anything, the bitter cold had grown even more relentless.

Not a soul had tread these trails for weeks, the majority of the host having
been recalled to Verminasia, Storm, and the Eclipsian encampment. Picking
his way along the snowbound trail, gradually the redoubt fell away off in
the distance, shrouded behind a curtain of white. Shouldering his burden,
Telthain approached the ruined foundry of the covenant.

--*--




Writer: Rasavadi

Date Fri Oct 19 22:11:18 2018

To Gur'geraal Jermichael Shadow Eclipse Verminasia All Imm RP

Subject Knock, knock



Rasavadi woke, and began to pray he didn't. Fire coursed through his
torso like molten steel leaking from his heart and out his navel with each
beat. He could hear someone near by uttering instructions like a mantra,
"Bring dogman, Jermichael. Serve and be free. "

where Trying to sit up he groaned loudly. "Dogman rest... Dogman stay. "
The latter part followed my a snickery snort. Not that Rasavadi could get
up anyway. He had been wrapped so tightly into his midnight blue cloak
which had also been tucked in such a manner that he could barely move his
fingers let alone the rest of his body.

"Where are we? " he inquired. "Dunno, big city, big ruins, big tower. All
black.
" said what must be a giant, giant ogre or a troll by its sheer
size, tone and skills in common. "We by gate, me ate last guard tried to
touch.
"

"This is going to go over well. " He thought to himself. Rolling around a
little he was able to confirm that they were near the ruins of Skull Keep.
"The Crown is going to love the fact that my new bodyguard is eating their
guards. " Rasavadi thought to himself. "How long ago since your .. Um
lunch?
" The crunch of tooth on bone answered for him.

"See that door? " a muffled grunt, and more crunching was the only reply.
"Knock on it or unwrap me so I can do it. "

"NO! " the troll roared. "Dogman clumbsy, fell in well. Gur protect, Gur
serve, Gur free!
"

"There were those words again. Whatever put the fear of the abyss into this
troll sure wasn't him, so who was it? Jermichael?
" A mystery for later it
would seem as this 'Gur' got to his feet and began to windmill slam his
fists against the door and bellow.

"OPEN SAYSAME! DOGMAN WANT IN! "




Writer: Cassandrea

Date Wed Oct 24 15:39:03 2018




Writer: Balgmar

Date Wed Oct 24 18:06:36 2018




Writer: Tamaska

Date Wed Oct 24 21:00:14 2018

To Rasavadi Gur'geraal Jermichael Shadow Eclipse Verminasia All Imm RP

Subject Things that go -=BUMP=- in the Knight?


It had been unusually quiet lately with her brother gone but Tam had just
immersed herself in some research that she had been putting off. She had
searched through the books in the war room though and really needed to go
look through their family library. It was quite extensive. After returning
to the continent of Arkane she headed for the city of Verminasia.

Her ears twitched and perked up as she noticed the faint sound of banging in
the distance. As she walked towards the east gate of Verminasia the sound
grew ever louder along with the rumblings of someone yelling. After exiting
the gates it took only a few moments before the yinn realized the sounds
were coming from the ruins of Skull Keep. The library will still be there
later she thought to herself. She glanced back at the gates.. Why are
there not more guards she wondered.

As she neared Skull keep she saw an enormous figure pounding its fists on
the door. "OPEN SAYSAME! DOGMAN WANT IN! " Dogman? Tam wondered and
reached down, unfastening a flask to have it ready and hurried towards the
figure. As she got closer she noticed the midnight blue cloak first and
then realized that it was wrapped around Rasavadi. Her eyes shifted to the
figure, taking note that it was indeed a troll but he was distracted with
his 'knocking. '

Tamaska tried to move to the Highlord's side but just as she got in reach,
Gur turned and swung a fist right at her. The fist slammed into her chest,
knocking her back several feet and right on to her arse. She coughed and
sputtered as she tried to regain her breath, "No touch Dogman! Gur protect!
" Tamaska climbed back to her feet, growling to herself before calling out
to the troll, "Do that again and I'll set you on fire. "

"That is the Highlord of Eclipse and my brother. " The troll stood there a
moment before asking, "You Jermichael? " Tamaska shook her head and looked
at Rasavadi who was wrapped rather tightly in his cloak. "Gur return to
Jermichael, not Doglady. Gur serve, Gur free. " The guardian glanced
toward Rasavadi, "You alright, Brother? " before addressing the troll
again, "He looks injured, at least let me take a look?

She only made it a few steps before the troll roared and stepped towards her
but this time she was ready. The hand with the flask reared back to throw
the flask at the troll but before she could Rasavadi called out, "Stand
down, Guardian. He is only following orders, whose.. I am uncertain of. "
Growling to herself Tam dropped her arm back down. "Gur return to
Jermichael! Gur keep Dogman safe! Gur be free!

"Doglady leave! " "I am not leaving so you can forget that." "No touch
Dogman! Gur snap doglady, " the troll roared and Tamaska took a few steps
back and held her hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. I'll be over here.
" She looked back towards her brother again and muttered, "The bloody hell
did you get yourself into now? "

With that the troll turned back to the door and resumed his assault, "OPEN
SAYSAME! DOGMAN WANT IN! " Tam's ears twitched in protest, it was going to
be a long wait or at least seem it.




Writer: Paxx

Date Tue Oct 30 06:18:27 2018




Writer: Paxx

Date Tue Oct 30 06:22:33 2018

To Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom All Ptithimir

Subject Underworld Waylays



In a desperate cry, Paxx yelled an intimidating scream against the Noble
Dark Elf foe.

Caught off guard, the caster stepped back in shock.

Before Paxx could inhale his breath a furry of blows landed upon the Dark
Elf from the shadows. Eye socket, armpit, quadriceps, left wrist, right
shin, abdomen, pelvis, and again the other eye socket.

Ptithimir landed a total of eight blows in one round. The Dark Elf crumpled
from the onslaught.

"Can I join you folks? " Ptithimir said with a smirk.

The party gave a sincere, yet tired set of smiles.




Writer: Evalia

Date Tue Oct 30 07:11:43 2018




Writer: Evalia

Date Tue Oct 30 07:13:58 2018




Writer: Ptithimir

Date Tue Oct 30 19:51:21 2018

To Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom All Paxx

Subject Underworld Woes



Paxx was looking expectantly at Ptithimir.

With an embellished sigh he rummaged through a pack of equipment, and a
squelching noise accompanied his removal of tentacle of a squid. A few more
of Paxx's discerning wardrobe changes later, Ptithimir was back on the
butchers block, sending body parts spinning through the air to make a
barbarian jealous, and a necromancer envious.

Or, maybe it would be the necromancer getting jealous of the bod- nevermind.
At any rate, uncomfortable as he was in Paxx's new clothes, Ptithimir and
the elves carved their way through the underworld until one of the
bladesingers was blinded.

Try as he might, Ptithimir was unable to put himself between his friend and
the dark elven conspirator who'd slowed their progress.

His one consolation, he thought while picking splattered brain matter off
some of Paxx's thoroughly uncomfortable gifts, is that at least they were
getting a splash of colour.




Writer: Ptithimir

Date Tue Oct 30 21:02:26 2018




Writer: Vincent

Date Wed Oct 31 16:05:57 2018

To Shadow Ithelim Cassandrea All ( Ampersand Necrucifer Storyline RP )

Subject The Nullstone: Prologue - "Aces Down" Pt. 1



The smell of laced smokes and stout ale weaved through the air. The
tavern's patrons composed a buzzing symphony of voices, each distinct
conversation and ambient sound contributing to the chorus. Dimly lit by
candles and hearth, controlled flames dissuaded the chill of approaching
Autumn from encroaching too heavily upon the bustling structure. At one
table sat two men engaged in a game of Nexus Hold'em, surrounded by
on-lookers and those whose pockets had already run dry.

The mind of Marron Trent heaved an unheard sigh as it glumly recounted the
meager contents of his traveling pack. His opponent, Jobte "Mucky" Rentser
whose trade was in glass, had no use for stale and on-the-verge-of-molding
rations, cheesecloth, a plethora of preserved plant specimens, writing coal,
or a field journal - unless that journal held some secret knowledge of glass
making, which it did not - and mule feed.

A miasma of desperation began to cloud the young Half-Elf's mind. This
expedition to Verminasia's Death Marshes had turned out no better than he
expected, if not worse.

Along with Peeko, the dwarf responsible for managing the party's coin, the
majority of the funding provided for the venture was torn apart and
swallowed by a duo of ravenous gators not four days into the swamps. Soon
after that, the bulk of the remainder was spent procuring treatments for the
mosquito ravaged Dontyl, who at the time thought slathering oneself with mud
was the greater peril. Between bouts of fever, vomiting, and diarrhea,
Dontyl admitted he may have been wrong in that instance.

Though a pair of pocket aces meant victory was All but assured, the
apprentice herbalist still needed to ensnare his opponent.

Marron's thoughts drifted to the only thing of "worth" still in his
possession, the one thing he had sworn never to part with. The carved black
stone crowned with a circlet of woven copper, gold, and silver was a family
heirloom passed on to him by his uncle some decades past. "It's been in the
family for generations," the voice of Acre Trent echoed in his nephew's
mind.

"Hundreds of years. Your father is gone and I've no children of my own.
It's only right that you keep it. Keep it and never let it out of your
sight."

It was a pretty rock. A rock that added about five pounds to his person at
all times. A rock that was old and possessed great sentimental value. A
promise was a promise, not to be taken lightly, but it was just a rock. If
it saw him earn enough winnings to return home, then it was worth its weight
in diamonds.

Marron swallowed his hesitation with a hard gulp. His palm and fingers,
slick with the cold clamminess of anxious anticipation, enclosed around the
stone and drew it from his pack.

"All in, Mucky. This is my last hand."





Writer: Vincent

Date Wed Oct 31 16:07:45 2018

To Shadow Ithelim Cassandrea All ( Ampersand Necrucifer Storyline RP )

Subject The Nullstone: Prologue - "Aces Down" Pt. 2



Mucky Jobte grinned, his several gold-capped teeth dully gleaming in the
dim light. Pocket kings victory was All but assured. With a draw of his
pipe and a thoughtful stroke of his stubble, Mucky voiced his hoarse reply.

"Hope you've got more than those twelve silver coins to wager, boy. Make it
worth my while!"

Marron returned the grin and sat the stone on the table, where it gently
rolled before coming to a rest on the engraved brass bead keeping the
circlet in place.

"Make it worth your while I shall. I wager the Stone of.. - Tren-Mar!"

Jobte glanced at the stone, then back to the Half-Elf who produced it.
Doubt marred his features.

"That sounds made up."

"Made up! Made up?! You insult my integrity, sir. This stone has been in
my family for generations. Look at the craftsmanship of the band! Fine
metals, all. The engraving of the bead. The meticulous setting of obsidian
in its center! Surely a man of your skill and trade can appreciate its
worth."

Another draw. Another puff of smoke. Another scratch of his whiskered
jawline. Jobte looked over the proposed prize again, Marron's words in
mind. It was
fine. If nothing else, it would make for a nice addition to
the rest of tonight's winnings.

"A'right, Trent. You've got yourself a deal. All in."

And so the hands were played. Marron collected his winnings and left just
as quickly. He had no desire to see Mucky's baleful gaze and infuriated
curses evolve into something more physical. The apprentice counted his
blessings as he counted his coin, now more than enough to book passage back
to the Althainian Continent. The "Stone of Tren(t)-Mar(ron)" had proven its
worth.

The mind of Marron Trent heaved an unheard sigh of relief as it joyfully
looked to the days ahead. By this time tomorrow, he would be aboard the
vessel slated to bear him home.

Trouble was now All but behind him, he thought. Relief at long last. He
knew not the true value of the stone he carried, nor the trouble that would
follow him for it. For now, nestled securely within the capitol of Arkane,
he found respite in blissful ignorance.





Writer: Paxx

Date Thu Nov 1 06:43:57 2018




Writer: Maccus

Date Fri Nov 2 16:57:18 2018




Writer: Maccus

Date Fri Nov 2 17:23:07 2018




Writer: Ptithimir

Date Sat Nov 3 21:39:39 2018




Writer: Damerus

Date Mon Nov 5 02:21:18 2018

To All Imm Immortal Nadrik RP Storyline

Subject Into The Nothing



The humidity was oppressive, like an invisible wall of pressure squeezing
every point of one's body with its heat and moisture. The Red Moon hung in
a dark sky specked with white, like a hole-punched cloth. The sounds of the
jungle echoed through the village as the boots of a mail-clad figure
crunched beneath the foliage, the links of his armor chiming gently with
each tentative step taken. He held a simple torch in one hand, for he did
not want the overwhelming illumination of another source of light to alarm
the villagers to his presence. A gloved hand reached out to brush the
jungle aside and reveal the way forward, occasionally requiring him to duck
his head under a stray branch or dodge a suddenly appearing bush.

He came upon a simple junction along the path, and a wooden sign whose
message was as clear to him as if it were daylight. He turned and continued
on. He passed through the open port of a palisade and began to descend into
a small valley. Even from here an umbral glow was visible at the bottom,
and the figure angled himself toward it as he made his descent. He had
known of this place for some time, knew it existed and that it might be his
way of getting the answers he sought. The words of caution so frequently
bandied at him by the many he had spoke with about this played through his
mind like a dirge during his descent into the valley, yet they did not
dissuade him. He marched on.

By the time he had reached the bottom, sweat beaded the pale skin of his
brow. Before him was a lagoon, a small inlet of water encased in the dense
jungle foliage of this tiny valley. Sat by the edge of the lagoon was a
simple, blood-stained alter. The water itself was awash in the deep, umbral
glow of emerald light that radiated from somewhere in the depths, which made
discering how deep the water truly was difficult.

He cautiously approached the lagoon and dropped the torch in. It
disappeared into the depths with no resistance at all, as if there weren't
actually any water before him. He gently wiped the sweat away from his
forehead then reached down to his side, grabbed a simple clay decanter that
hung from a strap that was draped around his upper body, uncorked it and
took a deep drink of its contents. When he was finished he recorked it and
allowed it to resume hanging at his side.

He stood staring down at the waters of the lagoon. He reached back to the
nape of his neck and gently palmed a simple green ribbon that held his
silvered crimson hair together in a ponytail. For the first since had set
out from the village he considered going back. He thought about the person
who had given him the ribbon and what it meant to him. The thought was
fleeting though. He took in a deep breath, exhaled slowly and begin wading
into the water of the lagoon.




Writer: Ptithimir

Date Mon Nov 5 11:30:26 2018




Writer: Symantha

Date Wed Nov 7 23:47:39 2018

To All Shadow Verminasia Eclipse Vincent Zayk ( Necrucifer Religion Imm RP ) Apostus

Subject The Hunt for Apostus



The temple archway before the inner sanctum was purposeful in every
adornment, from the stone chosen to craft the floor to the criss-crossing
beams in the ceiling above upon which perched deceptive beings of stone.

Every piece of granite, marble, wood and arcanium had been sanctified before
it had been placed and the black marble basin resting within its granite
cradle was not merely there to offer blessed water.

She stood before it, unmoving and contemplative, gazing down on the still
surface. The minutes turned to hours, punctuated only by the soft clink of
the acolytes holding their incense burners. No sunlight touched this place
and its chill grew pervasive as the day wore on.

A pale, fel light finally flickered in the deep.

Her hands gently took purchase on the raised sides of the marble basin and,
watching her pale reflection gaze back at her, she channelled the divine
power that was hers to call upon. Blackened unholy flame lit the surface of
the water, dancing over it with a ghostly pallor, and raced down the sides
of the granite stand that cradled the basin itself. Runes came to life down
the sides and around the stand, heralding the completion of a summoning.

Her reflection shifted, distorted, and the insubstantial image of a shadowy
being possessed of a malevolent bloody garnet gaze took form.

Show me. Her command rippled the water and the demonic gaze bowed before
it.

She 'saw' then. The empty expanses that littered His Realm, the purity of
the place possessed with an ominous silence that she had never before
encountered. So strong was it that her head bowed further over the basin
and pain assaulted her sense, tightening her grip on the marble.

Battle followed in places. Small, vicious, pitched - rage and confusion
held sway. So violent and jarring were the images but she pushed through,
until the demon revealed what she sought.

Pits of fire, where monstrous twisted forms raked and writhed through
endless ash. Eating of it, enduring whips of flame that twisted them ever
further. Time was meaningless in this place and she could not be sure that
she was witnessing the immediate, what had come to pass or what may be.

All at once her consciousness returned, and she was again gazing down at the
water in the basin. Steam was rising from it but she had never felt colder
- or more possessed of fury.

The bargain is struck. The shadows shifted within the water, as if a beast
were moving just beneath the surface. The demon sounded discontent.

When I am prepared. Apostus must be found.

The red-eyed gaze bowed and she withdrew from the basin, to find de Vere
gazing at her. The runes slowly faded from view once she stepped away to
compose herself and address the Novice.

"As above, so below, so beneath." She intoned.




Writer: Kae'ron

Date Thu Nov 8 20:21:09 2018




Writer: Ptithimir

Date Fri Nov 9 19:44:00 2018




Writer: Ptithimir

Date Fri Nov 9 22:19:36 2018




Writer: Ptithimir
Date Sat Nov 10 19:12:33 2018




Writer: Drevok
Date Mon Nov 12 20:25:04 2018




Writer: Arahnia
Date Wed Nov 14 23:48:44 2018




Writer: Drevok
Date Fri Nov 16 12:55:17 2018

To All Grunsap

Subject {nAstral Nomad Chronicles: The Arrival | Chapter 2


The awful screeching sounds of mortal combat still floated over the
dunes, but I still couldn't make out if I was heading in the right
direction.

Just as I began to doubt myself for the third time, I saw it... Or...
Them?

A giant purple.... Worm-like thing had burrowed out of the ground and was
trying to take bites out of an enormous humanoid figure that was nearly as
large as it was. The giant humanoid was grunting and howling with a primal
rage as it heaved enormous weapons at the worm. Even at this distance, I
could tell that the humanoid certainly wouldn't win any beauty contests back
at Zelosh. Regardless, the thing was clearly sentient, and I had better
chances talking to it than the worm it was fighting.

I started to pick up the pace before I stopped short. I'd just realized
this was an unknown planet, and I was about to make first contact entirely
on my own for the first time. If I didn't follow protocol and let a senior
officer do this, Admiral.... Whats-her-face (why can't I remember her
name?) Would chew me out for sure.

I paused, dumbfounded at the bizarre sight of two giant creatures noisily
duking it out. I'd seen quite a few planets and aliens in my day, even an
actual Octavid Overlord once, but honestly, I'd *never* seen something this
bizarre in my life.

Having its own opinion, my stomach growled at me angrily.

"Ah hell," I muttered out loud, "the Admiral can shove it. I'm doing this."


The giant humanoid must have heard me, for it turned in my direction and
stared for a long moment. Unfortunately for it, the worm took advantage of
this opening and sank its teeth into the humanoid's shoulder. It screamed
with a deafening roar of rage that shook the sand under my feet.

I sprinted forward to try to help pry the worm free, but the giant humanoid
heaved the worm back before I could reach it. As the worm wiggled to right
itself, it caught sight of me...

I froze in my tracks.

The worm locked its five beady eyes on me and began to slither its way
towards me. Fear locked me in place. I could turn and run, but man, that
worm was moving *way* faster than I'd expected. Just before I was
completely overcome with terror, I suddenly remembered my friend's voice
saying "Act now in moment and riv to enjoy regret! Hesitate, and die to no
enjoyfulness of regret!"


Don't hesitate... Ok... I wasn't exactly armed. What would a seasoned
badass do? I caught the giant humanoid's eye, and I knew exactly what to
do!

I folded my arms under my armpits, strutted around, and began to cluck like
a chicken.

Sure enough, the worm halted, unsure of what it was seeing. The giant
humanoid also seemed to forget the fight and stared at me strangely. I
stopped the clucking act to gesture at the giant, motioning at the worm in
exasperation as if to say "What the eight-legs are you waiting for?!"

With that break in my performance, both the worm and the giant snapped out
of it. The worm rose up above me, its massive maw widening to surely
swallow me whole...

The giant leapt behind the distracted worm, and in a mighty swing, it
cleaved the enormous worm cleanly in two, its purple blood splattering
everywhere as it shrieked out one last ear-piercing screech.

I sank to my knees, while the giant humanoid just stared at the worms
remains, grunting and panting heavily. I looked down at my shaking hands
before seeing the true damage done. Trembling with rage, I shouted so
angrily that even the giant jumped a step back. I held up my hands to show
the giant.

"PURPLE... STAINS!!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TAKES TO GET ALIEN BLOOD
STAINS OUT OF A SPACE SUIT?! A LONG TIME!! LONGER THAN MY LUNCH BREAK!!
THE LIEUTENANT... IF SHE SEES THIS LAUNDRY SHE'LL CUT OFF MY... I HATE...
Purrrpl-"

Deliriously overcome with fatigue, thirst, hunger, and probably heat-stroke,
I collapsed head-first into the sand.




Writer: Damerus

Date Sun Nov 18 13:17:30 2018

To All imm immortal nadrik rp storyline

Subject Faded and Weary



He Awoke.

The room was oppressively dark, with the curtains of the canopy bed he lay
upon drawn closed. He blinked once, twice. He sat up and allowed the
blankets that were draped over him to cascade down into a puddle on his lap,
then ran his fingers through the long strands of his tousled silver and
crimson hair; he straightened and untangled it until it was presentable,
then reached out and pulled the nearest canopy-curtain open and climbed out
of bed.

He took a few slow, patient steps over to a nearby window and drew back the
fabric of the curtains, allowing the sunlight to pour into the room and
illuminate the space around him. He scanned the space cautiously.
Everything was just as he remembered it being. Next he turned his gaze back
to the window and looked out upon the garden of his home. Just as he
remembered. He sighed.

It felt as if he hadn't seen this place in a lifetime, yet it was as if
nothing had changed. He plodded over to the door, turned the handle and
pushed it open, traveling the short distance from the hallway to the stairs
leading down into his study. He immediately spied the marble desk that
dominates the room, and the green feathered quill sitting in the inkwell
upon it. He smiled as he moved over to a couch that sat not far from the
desk then settled down upon it.

He rubbed at his weary eyes, careful with the way he massaged the left. He
lay back onto the couch and looked up at the ceiling of the study. The
bedroom, the study, even the garden was just as he remembered it being.
There had been times when he questioned if he would ever see this place
again. Everything felt like little more than a dream now, and he questioned
if everything he thought happened had actually happened. One thing was for
sure though.

He was home.




Writer: Kurksh
Date Sun Nov 18 23:21:24 2018

To Zola Geirhart All (Austinian) (Imm RP Ampersand? Cayenne?)

Subject Redemption of a Dark Past



Kurksh Lherken did not always pray to Austinian. He has reached out for
many Gods for personnal gain at one point or another. But after his time in
the Ice Prison for Murder, Kurksh had a long time to think and find himself.
What path did he truly want? Why with All these Gods and Goddesses did he
feel empty? A void he cannot fill.



The He came. Not like the Priest that see their Gods, but in a dream. So
vivid that it did feel like the Father of Goodness came to him. But when it
was over and Kurksh woke from his cell, trying to not breathe in the fart's
of the Giant Ogre sleeping close by, Kurksh knew his path. Redemption. He
would do his time and pay the world back for his crimes, his acts of drunken
hatred and name calling and racism. He would worship and begin the healing.
Instead of hurting others he would heal, instead of ignoring he would help.
He knew evil and they did not scare him. He has the weapons to protect
himself from those who hate the Light, but he would try to convert and to
teach and to listen-before he would have to invoke the Flames of Austinian.



 


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