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Writer: Velandris
Date Wed Aug 14 22:42:14 2024
To All Verminasia Shalonesti_kingdom Arkane Piknim Viszathyk Symantha Telthian ( Cayenna Xenophon Imm Roleplay Storyline Drakkara Necrucifer )
Subject In the Shadow of War Part 1. ( 1 / 2 )
A flurry of activity surrounded Velandris. Armed couriers brought a
steady stream of field reports, noncommissioned officers brought fitness
reports, and ranking officers brought duty logs. Clerks brought requisition
forms, scribes brought fresh writing supplies, and warrant officers oversaw
who received which carefully selected dossiers. Meanwhile, the ariel
general's personal vanguard kept those with genuinely sensitive information
separated from the rest- and from one another.
With secrecy a paramount concern during the initial phases of the campaign,
Velandris had found that it was simpler by far to cloister the scouts and
soldiers with the most crucial and restricted information inside of the
three adjoining rooms to the council chamber. This allowed him to
personally move between each room without having to contend with the
juggling and scheduling nightmare of shunting the many scribes and petty
officers out of the main room in order to keep certain reports and orders
restricted from those lacking the appropriate security clearance. It also
avoided creating a milling mass in the corridors where people might let slip
information while they waited.
Fortunately, the layers of arcane wards and ensorcelled barriers within the
Stronghold were among the best that Velandris had ever encountered. The
ancient magi who had been responsible for augmenting the construction of
Verminasia's greatest bastion had truly been gifted. With the fear of
augury and scrying expertly removed and with the assurance that anyone
powerful enough to pierce the wards without revealing themselves would also
be beyond any defense they might mount, that simply left the more mundane
means by which information might be gained by outsiders: carelessness,
deceit, greed, and torture.
Luckily, the secret objective of Verminasia's military branches only had to
be obscured for a couple of days. After that point, the noose would be
drawn and it would no longer matter who knew what.
Standing behind a grand ebony desk which was carved with the heraldry of the
great houses of old and with the personal sigils of the illustrious
individuals who had helped shape Verminasia and who had sustained the
kingdom through dire threats, Velandris rolled his shoulders in a vain
attempt to relax the tension in his neck.
With the truncated time allotted for preparations, he had worked through two
shifts of clerks, and- if the bleary eyes and poorly stifled yawns were any
indication- he would soon need to release this third shift.
The alacrity and efficiency with which the army had commenced its rapid
mobilization was enough to bring a smile to his lips. True, he had spent
the last few months overseeing various units and mandating new training
regimes with a particular focus on the citys defenses, mixed unit tactics,
and practice bug out drills in order to achieve readiness for exactly this
sort of abrupt march. Even so, much of the credit for the army went to the
officers who had come before him and to those he had succeeded.
Verminasia's soldiers had excellent conditioning and the ranks were
well-seasoned with experienced combat veterans. They were a dangerous
blade, forged by years of effort and dedication. It had simply fallen to
him to ensure that the blade was honed and tempered. Now it also fell to
him to direct it in a deadly thrust into the heart of an old foe.
Like a wash of sunlight over polished green stones, the golden light of the
oil lamps played over Velandris' malachite-toned eyes as he focused upon the
most recent progress report. Satisfied with the exemplary swiftness of the
army, Velandris placed the report in its designated sheaf.
At that moment, movement from the side of the room caught his attention.
One of his personal guards was making a subtle gesture to indicate that the
next messenger was in the closest interview room. Excusing himself with a
polite word and a signal to bring in refreshments for the hard-working
staff, Velandris moved with silent strides into the adjoining room.
Writer: Velandris
Date Wed Aug 14 22:51:30 2024
To All Verminasia Shalonesti_kingdom Arkane Piknim Viszathyk Symantha Telthian ( Cayenna Xenophon Imm Roleplay Storyline Drakkara Necrucifer )
Subject In the Shadow of War Part 1. ( 2 / 2 )
Once the door closed behind him with a quiet rush of air, he waited until
he felt the barely perceptible hum of the wards sealing the room before he
returned the salute of the young and haggard-looking scout and gestured for
him to give his report.
"General, we've completed our initial survey of the surrounds and we've
identified three potential locations for the forward command center," the
scout began.
"Very good," Velandris replied.
The silver feathers of his vast wings ruffled and settled in a dazzling
ripple of shimmering silver that belied his desire to take wing and inspect
the locations himself. But that sort of field work was no longer something
which he could permit himself to handle directly. Generals had to be
overseers first and foremost and had to delegate responsibility and risk, he
silently reminded himself.
Resting a forearm on the hilt of his kodachi, Velandris asked, "What about
the rally points and secondary staging areas for meeting with our allies?
"We've only found one place that seems large enough for the staging area,
but there are many potential fallback positions for our reserves to
marshal," the scout answered before continuing with a finer analysis of each
option.
Once the report was concluded and the scout was dismissed, Velandris
lingered briefly in the vacant room, permitting himself to look inward while
so many eyes were dedicated to looking outward.
He had not expected to find himself in a major military position again in
his life. The Shadow Wars waged on the Isle were often limited to minor
skirmishes on the streets, sordid acts of espionage, and political
maneuvering within the courts. Even so, the conflict had spilled over into
pitched battles in the field on more than one occasion. Yet those
experiences had been years ago- decades, in fact. Before leaving the Isle,
Velandris had committed himself to rebuilding his family. He had long since
put war behind him- or so he had thought.
Surprisingly, there was significant overlap between commanding an army and
administering a noble estate with substantial domestic and foreign holdings.
Assuredly, some of the planning was on a larger scale when anticipating the
daily and long-term necessities in keeping soldiers fed and healthy and
their kits in good repair, but the fundamental aspects were surprisingly
similar when considering morale, the payroll, and instruction.
Yet there were stark differences as well. No longer were other noble
families, courtiers in attendance of the crown, the welfare of the villagers
in his land and the staff of his noble estate his primary concerns. Now,
his position required that he parley with kings and queens and negotiate
with their advisors. His household guard was large for a minor noble, but
they did not quite equal a single battalion of the army.
With his thoughts turned toward home, Velandris drew a feather from a pocket
in his burgundy jacket. The beautiful midnight blue plume seemed to shift
between truest black and the hue of the oceans heart as he turned the
feather between his fingers.
With a wan smile, he shook his head and began to turn his thoughts back to
pressing issues- such as the march that would begin very soon, perhaps even
the next morning.
Personal concerns would have to wait for the moment. His estate was as
secure as he could make it and in the trusted hands of his seneschal.
Enacting a personal warding gesture, Velandris held the feather over the
exquisitely detailed tattoo which spanned the underside of his left forearm-
a serpent coiled around a lotus blossom- and tapped the midnight blue
feather to the fanged maw of the serpent.
Tucking the feather back in its hidden pocket, Velandris turned and rejoined
his officers and staff who, refreshed by the short reprieve and delectable
food he had made certain they were served, were anxious to resume
preparations- preparations for the war which now lay over Verminasia like a
new moon's shadow.
Writer: Krazeth
Date Wed Aug 14 23:17:30 2024
Writer: Gaudin
Date Fri Aug 16 12:18:21 2024
Writer: Ulyssus
Date Fri Aug 16 14:14:39 2024
To All Taliena Kantilles
Subject Ready or Not, Here We Grow!
Amidst the vibrant tropical coastlines of Tropica, where palm trees
swayed gently in the warm breeze and the sun cast a golden hue across the
emerald waters, a figure starkly out of place made his way along the wooden
docks. Ulyssus MacAllen, Wizard of Kantilles's Ivory Tower, walked
steadily, his white oak staff topped with a shimmering ice crystal tapping
rhythmically against the wooden planks. His very presence seemed to cool
the air around him, an embodiment of the power granted to him by Kantilles.
He wore highland garb of deep black and royal blue, and a white cloak with a
hood pulled over his head, All of which contrasted sharply with the lush,
tropical surroundings.
Perched on his shoulder was a snowy owl, its eyes scanning the horizon with
keen intelligence. The owl, a loyal companion, seemed just as out of place
in this warm climate, yet it remained at the wizard's side, its feathers as
pristine as the snow-covered peaks of the North.
He had been summoned to these southern shores by a sacred duty given to him
by the Priestess Penelopina, a devoted servant of Taliena. The task before
him was not one of war or conquest but of care and nurture. The Priestess
had entrusted Ulyssus with the responsibility of helping a young seed take
root and grow.
As he reached the end of the dock, he paused, glancing out at the endless
expanse of the ocean. He knew the tree was to be located near the Citadel
of the Heart, along the coast. Instead of walking, the wizard raised his
staff, the ice crystal atop it glowing with a soft blue light. He whispered
an incantation, calling forth a creature from the depths of his magical
bond.
With a roar that echoed across the water, a massive manticore materialized
before him, its powerful wings spreading wide as it landed gracefully on the
dock. The creature, with the body of a lion and the wings of a dragon,
lowered itself in deference to its master. Its icy blue eyes met Ulyssus'
own, and the connection between them was clear--this was no mere beast, but
a companion bound by magic and loyalty.
The snowy owl took flight, circling above as Ulyssus mounted the manticore.
With a powerful beat of its wings, the creature launched forward, carrying
the wizard swiftly along the coast. The tropical landscape blurred past
them as they traveled, the wind whipping through Ulyssus' cloak. The owl
flew close by, its feathers gleaming in the sunlight.
As they neared the Citadel of the Heart, the manticore slowed, stopping
gently on the white sand beach. Ulyssus dismounted, patting the creature's
side in silent gratitude. The owl returned to his shoulder, and together,
they made their way off the sands to find the tree.
Spotting a lei of red, white, and fuschia flowers, he knew this must be the
spot. Kneeling, he extended his hands, palms facing the earth. His blue
eyes, as cold and clear as the deepest glaciers, closed in concentration.
He murmured an incantation, sacred words of power gifted to him by
Kantilles. The ground beneath began to glow softly, and with a subtle
tremor, a spring of water bubbled up from the earth, crystal clear and cool.
The water flowed gently around the area where the seed was planted,
nourishing it, giving life to the seed. He continued his work, weaving
Kantilles's magic to create a perfect balance of warmth and cold, ensuring
that the seed would not only survive but thrive in this land.
Hours passed, and as the sun began to set, casting a fiery orange glow
across the sky, Ulyssus rose to his feet. The conditions in the area were
perfect for the seed to sprout and grow. Satisfied with his work, he
stepped back, admiring the area. The snowy owl on his shoulder hooted
softly, as if in approval.
Turning back toward the shore, he made his way to the manticore, his task
complete. The creature, waiting patiently, crouched low as the wizard
climbed onto its back. As they rode off, he glanced back towards the
Citadel. He knew his journey was far from over, but for now, he had done
what was needed.
Writer: Fionnha
Date Fri Aug 16 16:32:15 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Fri Aug 16 16:34:34 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Fri Aug 16 16:40:21 2024
Writer: Carmyne
Date Sat Aug 17 14:23:59 2024
To Nordmaar Imm RP All Kwainin
Subject A daily patrol
Carmyne hops off a tall rock in the Blackwood, just barely able to see
the towering walls of Nordmaar through the trees as her boots land in the
underbrush. She snakes through the thick forest growth, growing ever closer
to home. The chill in the air is welcome, keeping her alert to every
movement and sound throughout her daily patrol.
Birds twitter in the trees. A deer romps through the brush. Her gaze lands
on shining eyes, scowling at her from the shadows. The beast emits a low
growl, and Carmyne bares her teeth back at it. A spell of calming influence
seems to satiate the predators mind.
After circling the expansive walls, she returns to the city to stand at the
gates alongside several guards on their daily rotation.
Military patrols can be monotonous, but theyre necessary All the same. And
Carmyne is proud to help where she can. Her father was a high-ranking
officer in the Nordmaarian Army, and she wants to someday emulate that to
the best of her ability, even if just in the daily active routine of patrol,
guardianship, and service.
Hearing the scuttlebutt between a group of guards about two of the citys
shopkeepers, Carmyne allows a small smile to grace her lips.
Its easy to keep abreast of the goings on in Nordmaar when one frequents the
company of the guards. Many pay them little mind. They know All and see
all, and they arent shy about sharing amongst themselves.
Before rounding a corner, she hears the Kings name and stops short.
She listens.
Its a retelling of the Banshee ordeal, embellished for flare and flavor, as
is the Highland way. Several names are mentioned, including her own, before
the tales veer off into more gossip.
Carmyne eventually backtracks toward the gates.
The people love their King, that much is clear. As they should, given how
he fights for them and steers them All toward being the best versions of
themselves.
In this way, shes every bit on the same page as those guards, although her
love is often of a different sort; something more than admiration and
respect.
Quickly, before she gets to work for the day, Carmyne pens a quick note.
Its going to be a good day. And if shes learned anything from Malcomn
MacCallum, its to keep a tight hold and fiercely protect what is good in
this world.
Writer: Marteen
Date Sun Aug 18 02:04:49 2024
To All ( imm rp )
Subject The call of the Shaman
Marteen stepped into what was once her homelands. The Savannah had
already reclaimed what small piece that her people had called their
territory. Tears of the memories of that night fell upon her furry face.
Her kin, brothers, sisters, but mor importantly, her child and mage; gone
forever. She watched the current residents, thriving now without her pride
hunting them, roamed free and unafraid. Lifting her voice in a loud leonine
roar, she finally says goodbye, pledging in her heart to get revenge against
the ones that took them from her. Turning to make her way down the winding
and twisting game paths to the beginning of the rainforest, she stops
suddenly. Her eyes losing focus, she falls to the soft earth, her eyes no
longer seeing, her body limp as Elephants, Wildebeests, and curious hayeenas
roamong around her.
She was in the Savannah, but the world looked... Hazy. Real but not real
at the same time. Her people were All there; gathering, hunting, the hunger
cubs getting water from the streams. Crying out with joy she screams for
them, but they do not hear. She gets up, running toward them, but no matter
how hard she runs, or how far, they stay the same distance away. Out of
the corner of her eye she sees a figure coming out of a sort of.. Mist.
Feathers fall around their head. Beads of bone making a soft clinking sound
as they walk toward Marteen, the only sound thats made in this world of
silence. Unable to move, unable to speak, the figure gets closer. Animal
leather covers their form, the legs and arms coverd in leather fringes that
ripple and seem to float in the breeze. {f They reach out a gnarled finger,
touching Marteen on the forehead, in that moment time ceased to exist. She
saw her people through All the generations. Each of them floating past her,
pulling at her, slicing her, grabbing chunks of her flesh from her bones.
With each cut, with each wound, with each blow, something tears at her soul.
As Marteen is nearly torn apart a voice speaks from the mists flowing
around her "These are your people. They are part of you, as you are part of
them. Do not forget them, as they will give you power. They will give you
insight. They will give you strength. Call on them in your quest, avenge
their deaths. This is why you were spared. This is your life. Do not fail
them.
Marteen gasps, pulling air deep into her lungs as the wakes. The world
instantly coming into focus around her. She blinks, the knowledge of what
just happened not only registering in her mind, but in her heart, even clear
into her very bones. This was not good bye, this was a calling. She was
Shaman, and her People would never leaver her. They would never forsake
her. They would bring her power and they would see their vengeance.
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Sun Aug 18 02:27:13 2024
Writer: Penelopina
Date Sun Aug 18 18:02:07 2024
To All Taliena
Subject Ready or Not, Here We Grow Again!
{pToday a terrible storm racked the small continent of Tropica. Heavy
winds made rain fall at {pa sideways angle, pelting the ground with water.
Even Penny, who enjoyed the odd frolic in {pthe rain, found herself sheltering
from the intense weather. Thankfully, the many palm trees {pthat lined the
sandy beaches made for excellent cover, and she only managed to get a little
{psoaked on the way to her destination.
{pFinally, however, she found the marker, the colorful lei of red{p, white{p, and
fuschia{p flowers that showed where the seed had been buried. It had been
secured so it {pwouldn't blow away in the storm. As of yet, there was no sign
of any growth, but it was early {pdays yet, and she was patient.
{pShe sprinkled some holy water on the spot to hydrate her future banana tree,
trusting the {prain storm to do the rest, and intoned a brief prayer to the
listening gods to let it grow {pbig, strong, and fruitful. She also took a
moment to brush aside some driftwood and dead {pleaves that had fallen,
sweeping them off the path and out of the way.
{pIf the little seedling could see and talk, what would it say? What had it
seen? Druids and {psorcerers doing their best to protect it and shelter it,
out of love? Humans, elves, gnomes, {pmanticores and dragons, praying for its
prosperity? All working to nurture it and help it {pgrow? She certainly
hoped so.
{pHer prayer and impromptu gardening finished, Penny glanced back up at the
sky, noting the {pstormclouds were looking less dark and ominous now. And the
rain, while still falling, was {pmore of a gentle drizzle than a full out
storm. Sunlight was beginning to peek over the horizon {pin the eastern sky,
bringing a smile to her face.
{pHumming a merry tune to herself, Penny kicked off her shoes and skipped down
the beach in {pthe rain, frolicking freely.
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Sun Aug 18 18:25:51 2024
Writer: Piknim
Date Sun Aug 18 21:38:53 2024
To All Verminasia Shalonesti_Kingdom Arkane Marauders Vsizathyk ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject In the Shadow of War: Reflections I
The marble dais stood barren and the throne upon it empty, yet Drakkara's
seat resonated with purpose and ambition burned hot within the heart of
Darkness. A relentless percussion of snare drums, heavy footfalls, and
cloven hooves filled the air to the accompaniement of trumpets. Scents of
blade oil, fire dust smoke, old leather, and birch tar mingled on the
morning breeze. Verminasian spear-tips festooned with heraldic pennants
bristled in rank upon rank of burnished steel and polished brass. Giant
ogres yoked to siege engines grunted and labored in brute squads, while the
wheels of war groaned and turned in reply.
And above all, perched atop the highest balcony overlooking her people, a
kenderkin in robes of black - the Darkfinder. By her decree, the royal army
would soon march upon Fort Ironclad in support of Shalonesti and join the
ongoing siege. Verminasia honored their alliances, after all.
More importantly, the Marauders were likely at their weakest and most
vulnerable point in recorded history - widely reviled by the world at large
and bereft of allies. A more favorable opportunity could scarcely be found
- and long had Piknim Cracklespark climbed, scraped, fought, bled, schemed,
and positioned herself to seize it. She would be the one to walk into
Hammurabi Square and shatter Fort Ironclad's monument to the conquest of
Balifore. She would be remembered, untouchable and unquestioned, as
Kenderkind's greatest champion.
The wide smile plastered across her child-like features hardened
imperceptibly into a chilling facsimile of mirth as she reflected upon the
distant past - of her troubled relationship with Balifore.
In truth, behind All the affectations of acrimony and calls for vengeance
against the Marauders for subjugating her homeland or the Godson for
bringing it to utter ruin, she despised Baliforian kender with every fiber
of her being. Their puerile penchant for stuffing themselves with candy,
infantile manner of speech, and deplorably stupid antics were an incessant
source of embarrassment that made her early years in Verminasia All the more
arduous. The sting of humiliation and constant degradation under
Necrucifer's Purist regime as a consequence lingered still, an unseen scar
upon her psyche. In moments of despair at her lack of progress in finding
magic or acceptance in the dark city, Piknim had blamed Balifore for her
failures.
Time and again, she cautioned her kin and urged them to ally with Verminasia
- to submit to the whole of Darkness and be strong. They refused.
And, ultimately, they were destroyed.
Independence bred chaos. Comfort, complacency, and faith in the Light
doomed them all.
However, the ghosts of Balifore could yet serve a higher purpose - even in
death. By avenging their insufferable memory, Piknim could climb higher
than ever before. The foundation of her legacy would be built upon the
smoldering ruin of lesser hopes and dreams. She would be the guiding star
for future generations to follow.
This time, they would submit.
This time, they would find strength.
The Darkfinder, and All who sheltered in her shadow, would not be denied
their due.
Writer: Agu
Date Mon Aug 19 00:44:46 2024
To All Arkane (Immortal Roleplay Zandreya)
Subject Preparing Nature's Barricade
The early morning. The forests, south of Arkane, in a clearing. The
chirping of birds heralded the coming of dawn, whose early light would soon
creep over the trees and illuminate the land.
Commander Agu, Acting Marshal of the Home Guard, stood in a clearing, with a
regiment of the guard standing. Engaged as they were keeping disturbance
out of the clearing, a recruit handed seeds to the Commander, one by one.
Each time a seed was received, the Commander would recite the incation for
'Enhance Seed', fortifying it with abundant life. As each strengthened seed
is set in the ground, another spell is cast. The seeds grow into great
trees within an instant.
Agu waves his hands, controlling the spell somatically and verbally. His
fingers motion like a weaver, trying to draw life out from the newly grown
tree. His connection to nature allowed him to feel the roots struggling to
dig deeper into the ground. Reaching those roots deep into the earth, so
that no force could unroot them.
He tried over and over, with a variety of seeds, and a variety of trees.
Attempting to form this row of trees into a barricade. A growl of
determination as he squared his shoulders. He was prepared for this
challenge. He would overcome.
Not by his own strength, but by the strength of every soldier united in
purpose. For the true test of Leadership was never personal strength; It is
how one inspires others to be strong, and to use that strength to accomplish
great deeds.
Writer: Emmyth
Date Mon Aug 19 11:22:20 2024
Writer: Drogan
Date Mon Aug 19 11:36:58 2024
To All Darkonin Imm
Subject Spirit War: Prelude I
The smoke of the bonfire lifted the embers up thirty feet into the night
sky. They spun around in the air like small stars. Around the fire sat the
young ogres of the Bear tribe as they listened to Araga, the tribe's spirit
caller. She was small for an ogress, her silver and white hair was braided
with the bones of animals. Tattoos were scrolled across her pallid face and
arms. Though small in stature, she had proven that the spirits always came
to her call and thus maintained her position as a powerful member of the
tribe.
She took in the air and as she exhaled, the smoke from the fire turned into
various totemic animals running off into the night. The children made
excited noises as the bears, deer, wolves, and cougars ran through their
ranks. Drogan remained quiet and gave Araga All of his attention for these
were the stories he loved the most. Then with a cough and a grumble she
began to tell the tale of the "Great Spirits."
'Long ago, when the world was new, the Ogre Father and the Sun Bringer
fought a battle that would break the world and bring about the birth of the
Ogres. It was during this time, in the Spirit Realm, that another battle
was taking place. Here, upon Icewall, the Great Mountain Spirit, the Great
Air Spirit, and the Great Sea Spirit All battled for control of this land.
' Araga took out a pipe, lit it, and with the smoke blew puffs out that
turned into various forms. The first puff of smoke coalesced into a large
bipedal mass that didn't float as much as lumbered in the air. It had a
squat neck and a pointed head. It's body was broad and jagged. Long arms
and legs, thick and gray, rose in the air slowly before fading away.
The second puff of smoke formed a swirling churning mass of gray, never
taking on a form of it's own. It moved around in circles in the air forming
into a small cyclone. The inverted cone had four wings or blades that
spread out from it's top. They also whipped around as it rose up into the
night sky finally disappearing into the stars. The third puff of smoke
became a wave travelling rapidly across the bonfire. It formed a high wall
with a curled in top. Bits of smoke dropped from this curl dissipating
beneath the wave. It collided with the blacker smoke of the fire and
combined into an even larger and darker wave. As soon as it got to the edge
of the fire light, it too disappeared into the night.
'The Mountain Spirit called the animals of the land to its aid as the other
two spirits did the same. As Wolf tore at Hawk and Whale engulfed Bear, the
spirits were equally matched and so they merely reformed and continued their
battle. It was an endless frenzied carnage until, looking at the wastes
around them, the three great spirits stopped their battle. It was the
Spirit of Air who slowed his swirling and called for peace. '
Neither of us can win this battle to rule, so we must find a way to exist
together.
Your winds and the waters of the sea erode what I have made! How can I
trust you when you undermine my creation?
Your land encases the fish spirits from my oceans and the winds brings
storms to my calm waters!
Then, if we can not live together, what if we each sleep for a time leaving
only one of us awake. While awake, our domains will flourish for a time
until we sleep again and another takes our place?
The Mountain and Sea spirits pondered this idea but neither seemed
satisfied.
How do we know when to sleep again? Who chooses when to wake? This seems a
weak idea.
We can have Avatars in the real world. So long as our Avatars are alive, we
will be awake. If our Avatars are slain then we will sleep until they have
reformed once more. This will keep the cycle fresh.
Writer: Gaudin
Date Mon Aug 19 12:39:03 2024
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Mon Aug 19 16:49:59 2024
Writer: Melora
Date Mon Aug 19 17:03:34 2024
To All Verminasia ( Imm RP )
Subject {uPrepartions of a Dream{ustress
Another dream crafted and ready. She has been studying every book about
warfare and tactics she can find, ever since had heard about the potential
campaign. Already she had made several dreams based off the historic
battles written in them. Much to her dismay, many of these battles couldn't
possibly have been as the books said. Almost every history she could find
ended up being embellished to the point of useless. How can you recreate a
battle when they obviously changed how it went by the time it was written?
So very frustrating.
Next, she had went and watched the soldiers in their training. Studying the
strikes against training dummies and against each other with wooden weapons.
She saw how they formed up, how they marched, and she even saw a little bit
of the scouts practicing with new recruits. All of this was useful for her
dreams, to give them an edge of realism, even if she didn't understand how
to make a fight look impressive to a skilled warrior, she could make the
background of a battle fuzzy with just enough detail that the warriors mind
wouldn't even try to focus on anything she didn't want it to.
In the end though, she was ready. She had numerous dreams to give. She
could repeat the drills for a common soldier, craft a deep forest and
enemies within for the scouts and replicate the chaos of a city falling or a
battle being lost. She would start with a few soldiers first, as they were
the easiest to get to a private enough place to give one of her dreams. Two
dreams for each of those, the first being what they had expected, even if
they would never realize it was simply a dream, and the other dream one of
them being called to action, enemies at the gates, and seeing how each
responded.
Once she understood how they would react, she would move up the ranks until
she could one day soon be able to give the General or the Advisor the chance
to try out numerous strategies and see how they might play out. It might be
useful, or they may refuse her offer, she would just have to be prepared by
the time they hear of her wandering the camps. For now, she had dreams to
give.
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Mon Aug 19 23:56:33 2024
To All Austinian Taliena Raphiel Nordmaar Religion IMM
Subject Ready or Not Here we Grow Again
Hadleigh, a bright and compassionate 10-year-old highlander girl, was
approached by a young priestess named Penelopina, or Penny as her friends
called her. Penny, a priestess of Taliena, the goddess of love, had a
special project in mind. She needed Hadleigh's help with a seed that had
been planted on Tropica Island, near the Citadel of the Heart, a new temple
along the coast. The tree was marked by a lei of colorful red, white, and
fuchsia flowers so that others could find its location.
Eager to help, Hadleigh spoke with a friendly farmer outside of Nordmaar to
learn the best way to nurture a seedling. The farmer, impressed by her
determination, gave her some fertilizer he used on his prize-winning crops
and advised her to let nature do the rest.
With her white tiger, Veritas, by her side, Hadleigh set off on an adventure
to find the seedling. The wind was nice and breezy, and the sun shone as
brightly as her smile. Along the way, she and Veritas played games, chasing
butterflies and collecting pretty seashells.
After a bit of exploring, Hadleigh found the spot where the seed was
planted. She carefully applied the fertilizer and decided to decorate the
area with the shells and colorful rocks she found on the seashore. She even
made a little path of stones leading to the seedling, so it felt extra
special.
Satisfied with her work, Hadleigh sat with Veritas and worked on her book,
drawing pictures of the beautiful tree she imagined would grow. She then
closed her eyes and asked her god, Austinian, to help the seed sprout and
give it life. With full faith that the Father would answer her prayers, she
felt a sense of peace and accomplishment.
As the sun began to set, Hadleigh headed off to finish her homework, happy
to have helped her new friend Penny and the banana tree. She knew that with
love, faith, and a little bit of highland fertilizer, the seed would grow
into a magnificent tree, bringing joy and hope to All who visited the
Citadel of the Heart.
And so, Hadleigh headed home with Veritas, her heart full of happiness and
her mind buzzing with dreams of the wonderful adventures yet to come.
Writer: Carmyne
Date Tue Aug 20 08:04:46 2024
To Nordmaar All RP IMM Kwainin
Subject Being Enough
Carmyne stood watch at the entrance to Nordmaar for some time after her
morning patrol. The grand arch towered over her, the stones dripping around
her from a heavy fog after a light rain. She looked out toward the docks,
watching the ships come and go, bearing cargo and passengers alike.
Between her work, Malcomn, Hadleigh, and her dear friends, her heart was
fuller and happier than it had been since losing her father. Finding
purpose within the ranks of the Nordmaarian Army had done wonders for her.
Finding people to reciprocate caring and love only added to the overflowing
bounty in which she now thrived.
Honestly, she couldnt ask for more. Why, then, did she feel so unsteady,
like the very ground beneath her feet might give way?
Shes always had trouble holding on to good things, only this time, she didnt
feel like the good was slipping through her fingers like grains of sand, or
like they were intangible, like vapor on the wind.
The invitations were sent, and an anxiousness built deep in her chest.
Several of her fellow Highlanders started referring to her as their future
queen. Even the guards on her daily patrols treated her a bit differently.
Carmyne didnt know how to rationalize that in her head. From her
perspective, shed fallen in love with a man, simple as that. In her mind,
she was just Carmyne, nothing more or less.
The moniker of Queen came with different expectations and a responsibility
that she already took seriously.
Could she rise to the occasion and meet every expectation with grace and
fortitude? Would she represent her home, its people, and her king well?
Could she beenough?
Was there such a thing as caring too much?
Malcomn already assured her of the strength and caring he saw in her.
Her father used to speak of his glory days in the Army before he lost her
mother and lost his way. Sometimes, a person could become a compass or a
guiding light to another, their loss debilitating and derailing. That
happened to him.
He would speak on his military history with such pride, however, and Carmyne
now wanted that. She wanted to be proud of herself, her accomplishments,
and the way she carried herself throughout the kingdom and toward those she
encountered daily within it.
But, a queen?
Could she be enough, Carmyne wondered?
Baroness Fionnha advised her that the fact that she had these concerns
already spoke volumes.
Maybe, the Baroness was right.
Everyone began somewhere, after all. No one really knew what they were
doing until they did it. And even then, one should forever be a student:
always learning, open to new ideas and concepts, and continually striving to
do and be better.
The bagpipes rang out over the highlands, and Carmyne pressed her palm
against the cool, damp stones of the archway. The wind pushed past her
tartan skirts and forced wisps of red curls and braids to caress her face.
A vow pressed against her heart.
Today, she would be enough. And tomorrow, shed try to do the same. Day by
day, she would try to be enough. And maybe, some days, she would surprise
herself by exceeding even that.
Writer: Altacas
Date Tue Aug 20 09:50:07 2024
To Slayers Abaddon All Xinirrais ( Cayenna Rhelic Xenophon Raije Imm RP Bloodwars)
Subject The dust settles (2)
The hour was late, the moon had long been falling from the sky in its effort to
run from the sun. Altacas found himself pacing the ramparts above the drawbridge
of Greystoke Manor, oddly awake as had been the case for a week. Like a small
mouse scurries from cover to cover under the watchful gaze of a perched owl,
sleep had been playing a winning game of hide and seek with him. His gray eyes
blindly stared out into the marsh and woodlands to the west of the Manor, his
hand fidgeting with the service medal he now wore around his neck. A distracted
smile overcame his lips then as he recalled the ceremony just a few days prior.
The statues of past Slayers seemed to peer down at those gathered in the Hall of
Honor. The statues almost watching with their carved, unmoving eyes and faces.
It was a feeling he had not experienced before, however, he knew that the five,
himself included, had earned the respect of those the statues embodied. His
fingers rubbed against the smooth metal attached to the ribbon distractedly as
he recalled the ceremony.
Snapping from his waking dream, Altacas was caught off-guard by Akher's words,
"It's a lovely evening, Overlord. Although, it is rather late. I have been at
watch for most of the night and there has been little to note aside from the
blinking of stars." Akher was a tall human about the age of nineteen. He had
dark brown hair and faded brown eyes. The small scar at the bottom of his lip both
widened and lightened as he smiled at the Overlord. There was a calmness about the
man, Altacas believed him well-liked for this reason. {"yHe simply wanders in
search of sleep, Zealot." Altacas motioned to the gash, still somehow fresh,
above his eye as he continued, "It seems when He nears the moment in the chase
for sleep and He is about to capture it, this burns white hot and All hope of
slumber is lost." Altacas smiled kindly at Akher, the leonines gray eyes
shining like the stars above. "He is sure this is a temporary inconvenience,
however, if this is the cost of Greystoke's triumph over the Dead Kingdom then
He will bear the burden joyously."
Akher nodded and said, as he saluted the Overlord, "I better return to my watch,
Overlord. If there is anything I can do for you - just ask," and turned
abruptly up the western rampart. Altacas watched the young man, nearly his same age,
until he could no longer make out the form in the darkness and instead only saw soft
reflection of torch against polished armor.
Altacas retired to the Overlord's chambers but he did not seek sleep, he had
accepted it would be another night without and instead hovered over the scarred
table and studied the map of the Althainian continent, specifically, the Kingdom of
Abaddon. "It is unlikely this conflict has come to an end," he slowly leaned
forward, like a limb burdened by stacking snowfall, and drew a line from the Manor
and the Dead Kingdom's gate, "If the dead come, it would be from here."
The night carried over into day as Altacas stared at the map and contemplated attacks,
counter attacks, and defenses for Greystoke Manor.
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Tue Aug 20 11:33:01 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Tue Aug 20 19:33:58 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Tue Aug 20 19:37:24 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Tue Aug 20 19:39:05 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Tue Aug 20 19:40:39 2024
Writer: Ryger
Date Tue Aug 20 21:27:54 2024
Writer: Emmyth
Date Wed Aug 21 10:56:29 2024
Writer: Gaudin
Date Wed Aug 21 17:54:12 2024
To Knighthood Nordmaar ( All Imm RP )
Subject Driven to Distraction Part II
"It'll be good for you, the sea air. Also I'm not really asking" Gaudin
said as he threw a gunny sack over his shoulder at the three other officers
gathered in the Armory. Their responses were exactly as he would have
expected from each man. Alarix nodded seriously like the dedicated
Confessor he was. Pharis grinned and shook his head grabbing a few things
from the racks he'd need. Ruydiez just rolled his eyes as he reached for
his weapon.
"Tell me again why we are taking a merchant vessel? " Pharis said as the
four Knights mounted horses in the stables, Giles watching the gathering of
senior officers with a little trepidation.
Gaudin explained gently as they departed two by two, that outreach was
important, and no one had been to the field hospital in Shokono in years and
that they owed it a visit. Senior brass was a good showing, reminded the
Shield Knights on site that they weren't forgotten in some god forsaken
posting.
"He means why don't we take our ship... " Ruydiez stated plainly, the Crown
Officer had known Gaudin long enough not to play his games. They All heard
Pharis exclaim his agreement from behind them.
"Do you remember how to sail? " Gaudin asked pointedly, turning in his
saddle. Pharis and Ruydiez grinned sheepishly at each other, Alarix merely
shook his head matter of factly.
They rode on in silence for the miles between Althainia and New Thalos, each
man practiced at tactical threat assessment. They reined their horses to a
canter as they passed the checkpoint, the Knights on duty there saluting the
three banners, Crown Lance and Shield, which streamed from the three
Paladins up turned lances. Alarix was the odd man out, his white raiment
standing out against the trail dust, though he returned the salutes of the
knights formally as they passed. Another hour of quiet conversation and
good riding had them to the docks, and boarding their horses upon the ship.
As they secured the plank and the ship weighed anchor, Gaudin walked to the
prow to find Alarix already there. The Colonel was staring into the
distance with a studious look in his eyes.
"What do thy prying eyes see, Lance Colonel? " Gaudin asked, leaning on the
railing.
"Looks like rain. " He stated matter of factly. In the far distance, the
clouds were darkening just as he stated.
Oh well, thought Gaudin, a little rain never hurt anyone.
Writer: Gaudin
Date Wed Aug 21 18:23:02 2024
To Knighthood Nordmaar ( All Imm RP )
Subject Driven to Distraction Part III
It rained. It rained like the fury of the sea had leaped into the sky
and was trying to return home All at once. It rained like it only could at
sea.
"This was a bad idea, and you should feel bad about yourself" Ruydiez
shouted above the roaring wind as he pulled yards of waxed canvas over
barrels trying to batten down what he could manage.
"File a complaint" Gaudin shot back at his old friend. High above them in
the crows nest he could hear Pharis whooping, as the winds tossed the ship
to and fro. The affable Highlander could find the fun in any situation.
Lightning pierced the clouds, touching down upon the swells of the sea far
ahead of them. This ride was going to get worse before it got better.
Gaudin had a fine sense for things like this. He remembered asking Victis
once long ago as the walls fell and the enemy came charging through at them
what the opposite of a miracle was. The Lord Crown had responded brusquely
then with only one word. Catastrophe.
The whining groan of rope on steel drew All of their attention. The first
guy wire on the sail snapped flying through the air to smack Gaudin directly
across the face. As he tumbled to the deck he heard the second guy wire
follow suit and then All hell broke loose.
Gaudin pushed himself up from the planks, his vision dotted All over with
black and white spots. He could hear Ruydiez shouting orders at sailors to
get them to safety, and he saw Pharis sliding down the ladder to come and
help him.
"Get up My Lord. You want to see her again don't you? " Pharis grinned at
Gaudin as he stood on the rolling deck, trying to assess the situation as
best he could. The shouts from across the decks drew his attention.
On the port side of the deck stood Alarix, his feet planted, his white
raiment tossed All about him with the wind, the guy wire wound around one
arm, his other arm looped around the deck rail. Upon his face a look of
fierce determination.
"Help that man! " He barked an order at Pharis, and to his credit Colonel
MacGregor was already on his way before the words left Gaudin's mouth.
"Ruydiez, to me! " Gaudin shouted as he dove for the free guy wire on his
side of the deck.
The worn sea rope bit into Gaudin's gloves, summoning All of his strength he
planted his feet and could feel the lee of the rope go taut, Ruydiez having
gotten the remainder. Between the two men they dragged the rope back, in
struggling, slippery, staggering steps. Minutes felt like hours as they
struggled to wrap and tie the ropes to the railing near where they'd torn
free. But eventually the winds began to die down, and they managed to
secure All the lines. The four men sat against the rail on the starboard
side of the ship panting and heaving. Pharis laughed, Gaudin chuckled, and
Ruydiez smiled ruefully shaking his head. Alarix looked as though All of
this had been expected and executed to his satisfaction.
The bells range across the ship and they could hear the captain calling out
land sighted. All of them, even mighty Alarix, sighed knowing that they had
to get up.
"Well... Off to the camp then hrm? " Gaudin said, smiling at his Knights.
Alarix nodded dutifully, Pharis grinned, and Ruydiez just threw up his
hands. The gods had smiled on them, and they had made it after all.
Writer: Gaudin
Date Wed Aug 21 18:57:41 2024
To Knighthood Nordmaar ( All Imm RP )
Subject Driven to Distraction Part III
Their horses having been hobbled below decks had saved them a great deal
of trouble. No sprains or breaks, they were All fresh, if a little scared,
but ready to run. The trail was easy to follow, Gaudin remembered All those
years ago when they'd established this camp, and was eager to see it fully
engaged now.
He had forgotten how beautiful the shoreline here was, the forests and
jungles of Shokono brimming with foreign flora and fauna. Might be a nice
place for a vacation someday, if he could convince his bonnie lass to join
him for some time away. Smiling to himself, he rounded the switchbacks that
lead up into the bamboo covered hills, leading the cadre of officers.
The camp sat at the top of the small hill, overlooking the valleys and just
in sight of the city of Shokono. A little worse for wear perhaps, the
canvas of the tents had frayed at the edges, and the gear of the Knights
offering food and medicine to the locals looked a bit worn.
Dismounting, the four didn't even confer with each other as they moved into
the camp. Finding their own ways to be useful, returning salutes where they
were given, helping out tying off a bandage here, greeting other camp
officers. The Colonel of the Shield was most popular here, having issued
the orders to many of these knights before. All of them found uses, and
took what reports needed to be given. It was after All that a very
productive trip. There was some relief that they would be able to pray
their way home from here instead of having to take the ship back.
As the sun was setting over the western horizon, Gaudin stood at the edge of
the hill, looking down into a valley he knew All too well. His eyes fixated
on the river crossing, where a little bridge had been built.
That bridge had not always been there though... The rocks in the water
still looked like the heads of bodies that had littered the ground here in
ages past. He could still see dead spots in the grass where the fires had
rained down from the sky and men had died by the hundreds. Blinking his
eyes, he could see them there, still burning after All this time. "No.. "
Gaudin's hand shook as his quiet plea escaped his lips.
"Sir? " Pharis stood at his shoulder, and looked confused down at the
valley, then back at Gaudin.
Gaudin shook his head, and smiled at Pharis. He looked back down into the
valley, and everything was fine. There was no smoke, no fires, no field of
dead men, just a peaceful lazy river with a quaint little bridge over it.
Things did get better. She was making him see that now.
"Oh are we lost in thought and flights of fancy over here? " Ruydiez said
to the pair as he sauntered up. The Crown officer glanced at Pharis, who
just grinned back at him and rolled his eyes.
"We should head back hm lads? " Gaudin said, clearing his throat, Alarix
was still busy talking with a farmer, examining a wound on the man's hand.
But he glanced up at Gaudin, though how he heard from over there Gaudin was
uncertain.
"I bet you want to head back, you old goat" Ruydiez said, fluttering his
eyelashes at Gaudin and clasping his hands beneath his chin.
Pharis just laughed, and patted Gaudin on the back, telling him about his
plans for repairs and expansions on the camp. Gaudin tried to listen, but
he was distracted... Things could get better, they really could...
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Wed Aug 21 22:02:04 2024
To Nordmaar Knighthood Raphiel ( Austinian Imm Religion Rp All )
Subject Hadleigh's Journey Feeding Mouths and Souls
Hadleigh woke up bright and early, the sun just beginning to peek over
the horizon. She could already smell the delicious aroma of bacon and
pancakes wafting through the castle. Her parents had made sure there was
extra bacon and pancakes, knowing how much she loved them. Breakfast was
filled with laughter and stories, her favorite part of the day. After their
meal, her parents walked her to seminary, holding her hands and chatting
about the lessons she would learn.
After seminary, Hadleigh headed back to the kitchen, where she and the cook
prepared sack lunches for the children in New Thalos. Today's bagged lunch
included grilled hot dogs, crisp apples, raspberry tarts, and bottles of
water donated by the sweet priestess Penny. Each lunch also contained a
cozy blanket and a heartfelt note from Hadleigh that read, "You matter, you
are enough, and you are loved."
Hadleigh spent the afternoon with the children, helping them with their
letters and reading stories. Their smiles and laughter filled her heart
with joy. As she watched them, she realized that there might be others who
needed cheering up and a good meal. She thought of the knights who
dedicated their service daily and wondered how long it had been since they
had enjoyed a home-cooked meal.
Determined to make a difference, Hadleigh returned to the kitchen. She and
the cook decided to prepare a feast for the knights: "sketti" (spaghetti)
with rich tomato sauce, fresh salads, steamed veggies, and the most
amazing-smelling pumpkin cupcakes. The kitchen was filled with the sounds
of chopping, stirring, and laughter as they worked together.
Hadleigh made sure to save enough for her parents and herself to enjoy a
nice family dinner. As the sun set, they gathered around the table, sharing
stories of their day and savoring the delicious meal. After dinner, they
headed off to watch the fights, a perfect end to a wonderful day. It was at
these fights that Hadleigh had her first experience with the terrifying
killer tomatoes, which suddenly started to erupt from the earth! Hadleigh
watched wide-eyed as the tomatoes chomped at the priest in the arena, and
she vowed right then and there to never again eat salad.
Hadleigh felt a deep sense of fulfillment, knowing she had spread joy and
kindness to so many. She drifted off to sleep that night with a smile on
her face, while her mother ran her fingers through her hair. Hadleigh fell
asleep thinking about how she could make a difference for the beggars in
Arkane.
Writer: Pharis
Date Thu Aug 22 14:29:34 2024
Writer: Gaudin
Date Thu Aug 22 15:02:10 2024
To Knighthood Nordmaar ( All Imm RP )
Subject Driven to Distraction Part V (corrected)
"Swing. Good. Swing. Not as good. Swing! " Gaudin sighed, watching
Pharis in the lists. His corncob pipe in his teeth as he puffed a little
smoke.
"I thought that was pretty good" Said Pharis, grinning at Gaudin across the
yard.
"Mmm yes, quite good if what you're trying to do is impress Suzie MacJuicy
or whoever your sweetheart back home is. " Gaudin shook his head "But here
you are stuck with me, and she's with some ranger snuggling in the
Blackwoods. So why don't we focus on actually making a difference here...
" Pharis grinned and shook his head, lifting his mace up again to prepare
another set.
"Aim up high, you want to make them flinch. Make them reconsider their
plans. " Gaudin found it easy to speak in his old practiced drill
instructor voice. The rasping gravel sounds of his words echoing across the
open lists.
Pharis swung hard, his blow connecting at the top of the training model's
helmet. The clang rang out across the yard and the thin piece of metal had
a pronounced dent in it now. Gaudin nodded in approval.
"Better, but make sure you keep your awareness up. " Gaudin said absently,
turning the page in the book he had open in his other hand. From behind
Pharis, Ruydiez bowled into him with his shield, causing the Colonel to
tumble onto the yard floor.
"Now you're just bullying me. " Pharis said from the ground, a tiny hint of
a Nordmaar accent in his voice from his recent visit home.
Ruydiez helped him to his feet with a smile and even dusted the dark haired
man off. Gaudin snapped closed the small book he'd been absently paging
through and stuffed it beneath his breastplate. Moving the pipe from one
side of his mouth to the other he walked over to the two Knights.
"You know I know All of this, both of you. I have a valor award for light
sakes. " Ruydiez smirked and gave Pharis a strong pat on the back. Gaudin
nodded, recalling the day he had personally put the silver star upon the
Colonel's chest.
"I know. But the Chapel is different than Druidry. " Gaudin said half
heartedly. In truth Pharis was doing quite well, and his training had been
going excellently. But Gaudin required distractions, he was partially
worried that if he did not occupy his time well enough, he would simply ride
up to the Highlands, unfold a chair and sit trading jokes with her all
day... But he couldn't do that.. Could he?
Writer: Vershae
Date Fri Aug 23 23:51:24 2024
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Sat Aug 24 16:44:41 2024
To Nordmaar Raphiel Knighthood ( Imm Rp Religion Austinian All )
Subject Hadleigh's Journey: The Gift of Sunshine
Hadleigh awoke to the gentle sound of wings fluttering outside her
window. She knew it could only be one personRaphiel, her guardian and
guide. As she stepped outside, Raphiel greeted her with a warm smile and a
twinkle in his eye.
"Come, Hadleigh," he said, extending his hand. "I have something to show
you." With a flutter of wings, they soared above the grassy plains, the
wind whispering secrets in Hadleigh's ears. Below them, the world stretched
out in a patchwork of greens and golds. Raphiel guided her to a vast,
beautiful area, untouched and serene.
"This," he said, gesturing to the land below, "is where I will build your
church. You are my chosen, Hadleigh, and you will be the keeper of this
sacred place. I will bend the heavens to create it for you."
Hadleigh's heart swelled with pride and wonder. Raphiel then placed a
handful of sunbeams in her tiny hand, their warmth and light dancing across
her fingers. He pointed to a cloud drifting lazily in the sky.
"Now, Hadleigh, do as I do," he instructed. With a deep breath, Hadleigh
mimicked Raphiel's gesture, releasing the sunbeams towards the cloud.
Instantly, the clouds parted, and brilliant sunshine poured down, bathing
the world below in golden light. It was a magical moment, one that filled
Hadleigh with a sense of purpose and joy.
After their adventure, Hadleigh returned home, her heart still aglow with
the morning's magic. She busied herself preparing sack lunches for the
children of New Thalos, her hands moving with practiced ease. She also
gathered gardening tools and seeds, eager to help the children plant
starters in tiny clay pots.
The day passed in a blur of laughter and activity, but Hadleigh's favorite
part came in the evening. As she sat with her family, she recounted her
incredible day, her eyes shining with excitement. The warmth of their love
and the magic of her experiences made her day truly unforgettable.
As the night drew near, Hadleigh spent the hours before bed in quiet
reflection. She studied and prayed, seeking insight on how to best help the
children of New Thalos. She prayed for the protection of her home and
family, for her best friend Raphiel, and for the knights who worked
tirelessly to keep everyone safe. Her heart was full of gratitude and hope,
knowing that her prayers would guide her actions in the days to come.
Writer: Duskin
Date Sun Aug 25 18:02:45 2024
To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom
Subject The Song of the Vallenwoods
Every since he had been little, Duskin had not been an ordinary boy.
Father dead when he was only nine, in a hunting accident. Mother passed
away only a few years later from an unspecified illness. Raised by his aunt
and uncle and shown the ways of the wild, taught to honor his wild heritage
and know the way of the world. They, and his other family, helped to show
him how everything was alive. How the trees could feel joy and sorrow and
pain, and that even the grass underfoot was worthy of respect.
He didn't understand at first, not really. It was like being told about
snow, and hearing how cold it was, and how beautiful snowflakes were. But
until you saw it, held it in the palm of your hand, it was an abstract
concept at best.
He felt the same way about emotions. He knew he should be sad his family
were gone, but strangely he did not. Oh, he missed them, but it was again,
an abstract concept at best. He was rarely frustrated or angry, and All of
his happy moments seemed to be tinged with sadness. A smile simply did not
seem to last long on his face. Like it was not meant to be there, any more
than a wolf had a place in a flock of sheep.
Then one day, heard the song.
It drifted on the breeze, with the rustling of the leaves.
It wafted through the air, like pollen on the wind.
It permeated every branch, root, and stem.
And in that moment, everything seemed so much more alive, including Duskin
himself. He felt... Incredible. Amazing, even. Like something had awoken
inside of him.
Still not fully understanding, Duskin picked up a wooden walking stick and
shouldered his pack, and headed for the nearby elven city of Shalonesti.
Home to All of the elven kin, be they high or low, wild or civilized, land
or sea. There, he would learn more about his link with the world, and try
to understand it better. Then he could share the song with them.
Writer: Fionnha
Date Sun Aug 25 23:14:12 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Sun Aug 25 23:14:16 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Sun Aug 25 23:14:19 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Sun Aug 25 23:14:24 2024
Writer: Katariana
Date Mon Aug 26 00:04:03 2024
To Verminasia Abaddon Shadow All ( Drakkara Fatale RP )
Subject Dark Water - Tears on a River, Part 1
Thin trails of warm crimson traced sanguine paths down Katariana's arm.
The bloody tendrils inched down her wrist and curled around her fingers
until the freshly spilling blood joined with the cold, red stains that
already marked her hand- her blood and the blood of another mixing together
like a dark promise of her own fate.
With faltering steps, she slumped against the recessed doorway of a dark and
crumbling tenement. Bits of rotting wood dislodged from the frame and
cascaded across her as she used the crude threshold to help her stay on her
feet.
Hanging slack at her side, her arm pulsed first with pain and then chilled
with numbness in nauseating symmetry to her heartbeat. Between the flashes
of pain and numbness, she could barely feel the wrapped grip of the honed
garrotting wire that she still clutched. Her cooling blood trailed along
her fingers and down the wire, joining with the blood that already stained
the deadly device. A few drops of her blood silently sprinkled onto the
stones beneath her feet.
Grimacing against the pain and struggling to steady her labored breath, she
defensively turned her back against the door, cast her gaze up the shadowed
street and waited. She waited for a quarrel to come whistling out of the
darkness. She waited for cries of alarm and the rasping of blades being
drawn. She waited for figures to emerge out of the shadows. She waited for
the shadows themselves to gain anima and continue their pursuit.
Moment by moment, time slipped by. No new dangers manifested and no new
terrors came from the warehouse she had only just narrowly escaped.
<=|===> <===|=> <=|===> <===|=> <=|===> <===|=>
It wasn't the first time in her life that one contract had become another.
But never before had she been so frustrated by such a bizarre array of
strange clues and peculiar events. Try as she might, she could not identify
what connected them. She could find no evidence of a commonality. She
could not crystalize the separate information into a coherent whole. But
she knew that there was a unifying factor.
Katariana knew All of the familiar patterns that cycled through the
underworld- from a new gang vying for territory to a greed-blinded merchant
trying to create their own empire, from corrupt guards enforcing protection
rackets to disenfranchised nobles slumming it and treating the world and
everyone in it like their personal property, from nihilistic mages preying
upon the poor and the desperate to use as fuel in macabre experiments to
deranged loners consumed by madness and delusions of grandeur.
Powers rose and fell. Rulers came and went. That was true everywhere in
the world- including the slums where she had lived All of her life. But
this was something different, something unexpected, something new- and for
someone who survived by knowing more than the next person, the unknown
presented its own danger to Katariana's livelihood and to the hard-won
stability of her position which helped her to stay alive in a world of back
alley thugs and hardened killers.
Beginning with an unexpected double-cross and the suspicious supposed
suicide of the perpetrator, atypical events had started to happen throughout
the underworld of the slums in the two cities where Katariana plied her
trade as a fixer.
Everyone in one of the less successful gambling halls had been viciously
slain- but All of the gold had been left on the tables untouched. The shop
of a local fence had been pillaged of everything from the most common
rubbish to the most expensive pieces- but the fence and his enforcers had
been incapacitated and left alive. The owner of one of the marginally
cleaner flophouses had thrown his hoarded wealth into the streets before
similarly throwing himself off the roof. Two of the most antagonistic thief
guilds had suddenly consolidated after months of bloody strife only to begin
an even more oppressive rule over their territory.
Writer: Katariana
Date Mon Aug 26 00:07:57 2024
To Verminasia Abaddon Shadow All ( Drakkara Fatale RP )
Subject Dark Water - Tears on a River, Part 2
Every lead that Katariana pursued led to a dead end. Every thread of
information snapped before revealing anything that might shed light on the
situation. Surges of violence and erratic behavior were part of life's
pattern and the lack of any evidence, of any proof at All beyond her
instincts screaming that there was something larger at play, said that this
was simply one of those times.
Then she had followed her instincts to that warehouse.
There was information she needed to garner for another contract that she had
been offered by an up-and-coming merchant dealing with the small-time group
of bullies who used the warehouse as a hideout. The contract itself wasn't
one she would have normally accepted- except that most of the legwork
happened to align with the path she already walked and the information she
already pursued- however futile the pursuit had been so far.
Approaching along the rooftops, Katariana's light footsteps wove a careful
path across crumbling shingles and along cracking eaves while keeping
herself in lithe balance to prevent the support beams under the thin roofing
slats from creaking and alerting the occupants below. Alighting on a dormer
of the warehouse, she slowly pried apart the boards over the paneless window
and slipped inside.
Dust, cobwebs, and musty debris greeted her as she moved across the small,
rickety platforms of the warehouse's upper storage level, her senses trained
for any sounds of the men she knew had gathered for a night of drinking and
gambling in their dismal haunt. Behind a precariously-stacked barrier of
crates, a lantern burning fetid oil illuminated a large, open space across
the warehouse's dirt floor. Scattered around the cleared area were ratty
bedrolls, rickety chairs, a couple of large casks turned upright to use as
tables, a wide assortment of filthy bowls and mugs and bottles, and the
slumped shapes of several men.
The absolute silence that hung over the scene like a funeral shroud and the
utter stillness of the men revealed the truth of the scene before Katariana
saw the darkening red stains that marked the men and that were sprayed
across the ground and the crude furnishings.
After checking the warehouse thoroughly from above, she descended to the
floor to investigate the scene and to seek some clues as to what had
happened. She knew the signs of betrayal too well not to see the
almost-too-obvious story that was told by the placement of the bodies, by
the angle of the wounds, and by the scuffs in the dirt.
A knife in the back had been the starting point and that knife still
protruded from the corpse whose blood was the least fresh. Two men had
dueled nearby, each crippling the other before a blade had been drawn across
the throat of one from behind while the other was left to splutter his
life's blood into the dirt.
Following the gory trail and building the sequence of the fight in her mind,
Katariana came at last to the victor. Seated at one of the barrel tables,
his gore-drenched blade lay at his feet where it had fallen from his hand.
There was no way to tell whether he had instigated the fight or which side
he had supported. But what had ended his miserable life was All too clear.
A froth of bile and regurgitated poison stained his mouth and chest. The
scene was eerily familiar to the one she had found several nights before
when she had gone to confront the merchant who had tried to interfere with
her work.
With no obvious wounds, it seemed clear that the poison had been ingested,
but had it been a deliberate act or had it been laced into his food?
Writer: Katariana
Date Mon Aug 26 00:11:15 2024
To Verminasia Abaddon Shadow All ( Drakkara Fatale RP )
Subject Dark Water - Tears on a River, Part 3
In the moment when Katariana stepped closer to begin searching the corpse
in hopes of finding some clue to answer that question and to answer the
other questions that were plaguing her, a shiver ran down her spine and a
thrumming sensation of danger sent her diving to the side, rolling through a
few somersaults as she tried to gain distance. Through the space that her
head had occupied a heartbeat before, a crossbow bolt flew and thumped into
the corpse she had been inspecting. More bolts thunked into the ground
behind her as she continued her series of rolls.
Finally coming to her feet, she whipped a throwing dagger from the bracers
on both of her forearms and flung them into the darkness above at her best
approximation of the direction her attacker must be shooting from. Not
truly expecting to hit anything, but wanting to buy herself time and to
perhaps discourage the aggressor, she dove into a forward roll that took her
into the shelter of a stack of crates.
Just as she found her feet, something shattered on the ground behind her. A
piercing sound cut through the night and through the sound of her own blood
pulsing in her ears. An instant later, a blinding flash seared through the
darkness and cast the entire warehouse into a stark relief of searing white
and wavering wisps of shadow.
Before she could take more than a few staggering steps in the direction of
the way out, a second explosion of sound and light rocked the warehouse and
ravaged her senses. The light lingered in the wake of the second burst.
The world was leached of All color. There was only the cold light and the
wisps of shadows.
A shape emerged from the closest tendril of shadow, almost like the darkness
was growing to expel something trapped within it. Like a man swathed in
dark robes, the shape grew larger than a man and swung a blade made of
shadow at her neck.
Dropping into a crouch underneath the attack, she hastily rushed to the side
while drawing her dirk in her left hand. Before she could fully process the
attack and retaliate, the shadowed form vanished completely.
Another form began to rise out of the shadows between the crates to her
left. Perhaps it was the first being or perhaps it was another one?
Katariana had no time to consider that question before the new shadowed form
hacked at her with its blade. Ready for the assault this time, she stepped
closer to take some of the force out of the attack and brought her dirk
across at an angle to deflect the strike.
Her ice blue eye widened in alarm as she realized two things at almost the
same instant: her dirk could not stop the passage of that shadow sword, but
that blade made of darkness could hurt her.
A flash of pain lanced down her side as the blade cut into her. Pivoting
away to lessen the impact, Katariana choked down a whimper of anguish and
began to run.
The mysterious light that had filled the warehouse was starting to fade and
with the light's retreat, the darkness advanced. The shadows that had been
driven into corners and crevices rapidly became the dominant force with the
dying of the light.
More shapes began to erupt from the growing shadows. More hooded, robed
figures of living shadow swinging swords of darkness rose and diminished on
all sides.
Katariana ran and evaded, dove and ducked, rolled and flipped with every
ounce of speed and determination she had honed over the years. She
sometimes still reflexively tried to parry the incoming blades when she
could not avoid the strikes which seemed to come from every direction, but
she met with the same lack of success each time and her blood began to flow
freely.
Writer: Katariana
Date Mon Aug 26 00:17:12 2024
To Verminasia Abaddon Shadow All ( Drakkara Fatale RP )
Subject Dark Water - Tears on a River, Part 4
At last, the warehouse's main door loomed before her and she sprinted
daringly for the promise of escape. Then, in the moment before she reached
the door, it was hauled open and the exit was blocked by the bulky form of a
large man in dingy clothing with a rusty, cleaver-like blade gripped in his
hairy hand.
Recognizing him as a member of the group of ruffians who lay dead in the
depths of the warehouse, Katariana used her momentum to throw herself
forward feet first into a skidding slide. Her feet hooked the ankles of the
man and locked around them as she continued to slide forward. The sudden
jerk and the inertia of her slide were more than enough to take the man
down, sending him falling flat out on his face. But, it wasnt enough. He
was already pushing himself up to his hands and knees.
Yanking loose one of the garrotte wires she kept hidden in her hair,
Katariana flung herself onto the man's back and expertly slipped the keen
wire around his neck. Grasping the padded grips in both hands, she turned
to the side and heaved with All of the strength that was left in her
battered limbs. The less-than-ideal position made the gruesome chore more
difficult and the mans bucking and flailing almost dislodged her before she
could lock her legs around him for more leverage.
A sickening crunch and a slicing sound were her reward. The man's grisly
gasping and choking sounds were abruptly replaced by a wet gurgling and a
final heaving of the soon-to-be-corpse beneath her.
Wounded and drained, Katariana yanked the garrotte free and dashed down the
street with as much speed and stealth as she could manage. Every moment she
expected another shadow to become solid and to finish what had been started
in the warehouse.
<=|===> <===|=> <=|===> <===|=> <=|===> <===|=>
That had been several minutes ago. Now, as she sheltered in the recessed
doorway, searching the darkness around her and feeling the growing weakness
within her, Katariana felt the silver earrings she wore grow cold. Her pain
diminished and a voice spoke into her mind.
"This threat is beyond you, Whisper. You are not prepared for what swims in
these waters. Cease your resistance. Accept me and you will have All the
power you need."
Stubbornly shaking her head, Katariana clenched her blood-drenched hands.
Purposefully squeezing her injured side, she used the pain to clarify her
thoughts as she did her best to shut out the voice.
"Never!" She shouted into her own mind. "I will never stop resisting!"
The pervasive chill subsided from her earrings, but she knew that did not
signify that she was truly alone. Stepping bravely into the street, she
began to run in the direction of her safehouse.
It was then that she noticed the sky was beginning to lighten. Someone else
might have taken comfort in knowing that dawn was scant hours away, but she
knew better. The dawn might banish the night, but the light always cast new
shadows and the Shade was just as strong in the light.
Writer: Asreel
Date Mon Aug 26 15:42:05 2024
To All Abaddon ( IMM RP Fatale )
Subject Captured Slayer
Asreel paces back and forth through the temple as word comes out of the
captured Slayer. He sent up a word to the Dreadlord seeking guidances as
the dagger on his waist begins to call to him.
Murder
Asreel hears the whispers from the dagger. He let out a thin grin. He can
feel his fingers spinning as he thinks about murdering this Slayer,
sacrificing them to the Queens.
Patience
He steadies his hand as he remembers His tenets. He looks around the
Kingdom, now that there is no Countess. The Count remains, but no one knows
how long. The weight of the leader's decision is lofty. He bows for a
prayer of discernment.
He looks to the statue of the Dreadlord in one of His known forms of murder.
Lurk in the shadows. Ready your tool. Patience. Patience. Patience.
Asreel repeats Patience a few more times before returning his gaze to the
statue.
As he leaves the temple, he makes way for the Deliverance... What will he
find out?
Writer: Agu
Date Tue Aug 27 15:07:49 2024
To All RP Carmyne Nordmaar Arkane Felicidades
Subject Brewing A Gift For The Bride
The concoction was brewing. Sealed in a cauldron, so that not even steam
could escape it. It brewed and brewed the musk of skunk, until University
Helpers were able to separate it, siphoning the seperated liquid into two
individual casks. One is marked as Hadleigh. The other is marked as Lover
Cub of Unknown Name.
As he sniffed the air, making sure neither component was leaking, he
assigned some sentries to take each cask and a letter. Via the portal to
Icewall, they would trek to Nordmaar, approach the gates, and deliver the
casks to her grace Carmyne MacAllen. He knew only some of the Nordmaarians
on friendly terms. But he felt this would be a good gift to suit a
particular need.
The letter sent with the Arkanian Sentries read as follows:
To Lady Carmyne and Her Clan,
May these barrels serve as the ultimate preventative treatment for this
fabled and terrible disease known as cooties. Each barrel contains a
fragrant concoction that is effectively odorless. But when the two
fragrances come together, they are repulsive to the nose, even causing eyes
to water.
Requiring each of your concerned parties (Or cubs, if you will,) to wear one
half each of this fragrance, they will never want to be near each other
again. This way, you can be sure that the lovers will not transmit cooties
of any kind.
Congratulations on your nuptuals, Your Grace. May your love, and your union
be ever a blooming prosperity to the Highlands.
Sincerely,
Acting Marshal Agu of Arkane
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Wed Aug 28 09:46:15 2024
To Nordmaar ( Austinian Raphiel Religion RP All )
Subject Hadleigh's Adventure Joined together in Love
The sun rose over the kingdom, casting a golden glow on the castle.
Today was a special day, King Malcomn and Queen Carmyne's wedding day.
Hadleigh, their beloved daughter, was bustling with excitement and nerves.
She had been given the honor of officiating the ceremony, a role she had
never imagined for herself.
As the morning light filtered through her window, Hadleigh took a deep
breath and whispered a prayer to Austinian for courage. She knew she had to
be strong, not just for herself, but for her parents and the kingdom.
Greighsone, her loyal friend, was already waiting for her in the grand hall.
Together, they set about decorating the kingdom. Banners of vibrant blue
and green fluttered in the breeze, and lilies adorned the castle walls. The
air was filled with the sweet scent adding to the wedding day excitement.
In the kitchen, Hadleigh and Greighsone worked tirelessly to bake a
beautiful cake and dozens of cupcakes. Flour dusted their faces, and
laughter echoed through the halls as they created their masterpieces. The
cake, a towering confection of white decorated with MacCallum tartan ribbons
and of course her mothers favorite lilies, was a symbol of the love and
unity that would bind the kingdom together.
As the hour of the ceremony approached, Hadleigh felt her nerves begin to
rise. She stood before the mirror, practicing her words, her heart pounding
in her chest. Veritas, her white tiger companion, nuzzled her hand,
offering silent support.
The young girl closed her eyes and whispered a prayer to Austinian asking
for help calming her nerves and giving her the ability to stand proud and
speak clearly.
When the moment finally arrived, Hadleigh stepped up to the altar, her voice
steady and clear. She spoke of love, commitment, and the strength of
family. Her parents' eyes shone with pride and joy as they exchanged their
vows, and the kingdom erupted in cheers.
The reception that followed was a whirlwind of music, dancing, and
celebration. Hadleigh danced the night away, her heart light and full of
happiness. She even tried her hand at axe throwing, discovering a new hobby
she was eager to improve.
As the festivities drew to a close, Hadleigh found herself exhausted but
content. She fell asleep with dreams of dancing with cute boys and the
excitement of her upcoming 16th birthday, just five days away. The day had
been filled with adventure, love, and the promise of many more joyous
moments to come.
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Thu Aug 29 13:24:31 2024
To Nordmaar ( Austinian Imm Relgion Rp All )
Subject Hadleigh's Journey Quarantined in the Palace Library
The grand palace library, usually a place of learning and adventure
through books, had taken on a new role. Hadleigh, with her bright sapphire
eyes and spiraling crimson hair, had come down with chickenpox. The palace
staff, ever vigilant, had quarantined her in the library to prevent the
spread of the illness.
Hadleigh felt a mix of discomfort and curiosity. The itchy spots were
bothersome, but the library's vast collection of books offered a welcome
distraction. Greighsone, one of her best friends, had insisted on staying
by her side. His gentle nature and unwavering dedication made him the
perfect caretaker.
Despite her brave face, Hadleigh longed for her mother's comforting
presence. She knew her parents were on their honeymoon, a rare moment of
peace and joy for them. When the palace staff suggested sending for her
parents, Hadleigh pleaded with them not to interrupt the trip.
"Please, don't send for them," she begged, her voice trembling. "They
deserve this time together. I can manage with Greighsone's help."
Greighsone, seeing the determination in her eyes, supported her decision.
"Hadleigh is strong, and I will take good care of her," he assured the
staff. "We can handle this together." The staff, moved by Hadleigh's
selflessness, agreed to her wishes. They brought her cool cloths for her
fever and read her stories to keep her spirits high. Greighsone chose tales
of brave knights and wise queens, hoping to inspire Hadleigh with their
courage and wisdom. Despite the discomfort, Hadleigh found herself
engrossed in the stories, her imagination taking flight.
As the day progressed, the palace staff ensured she had everything she
needed. They brought her nourishing broths and comforting blankets, making
sure she was as comfortable as possible. Even the Arc Angel Raphiel visited
her in her dreams, offering words of encouragement and healing.
By evening, the sun cast a golden glow through the stained glass windows,
creating a serene atmosphere in the library. Hadleigh, though tired, felt a
sense of peace. She knew she was surrounded by love and care, and that gave
her strength.
Writer: Cobolorum
Date Thu Aug 29 18:54:42 2024
To Kantilles RP All Nordmaar Wargar
Subject Checking in
Hey Dad,
Today was my hatch day! It was pretty amazing. Did want to let you know
that the notes of encouragement you left inside my shell were appreciated.
There were some major gaps in information, but dont worry. I met a couple
of softlings and started figuring out what the heck this hatch thing is all
about.
Here is what I have figured out so far. Softlings buy our trash! They
literally buy it with the shiny eggs!! The space saving alone for eggs over
gold is just amazing. You can do so much more stuff with your lair. So
many ideas running through my head, but I did learn some stuff from some of
your relatives kiddos.
Fun fact, Grandpa has a truth teller that is really nice. It is pronounced
PRIEST in common. Your magics will do well in her care. She seems really
protective and helpful. She told me that softlings do not like to be
referred to as Fancy Gullies or Play Things, even though your cousin
said that fighting people is just part of the fun of having infinite lives
while he Honors Uncle Raije. Who knew! He was the first voice I spoke to
since hatching, and I am letting you know that I am totally blaming him for
anything that happens as a result of the things I read between his words
because the first words I understood must have clearly been from you.
I met her at one of your Brothers kids house. Well I reached out to her and
she led me to said cousin and poof. No longer in danger. Very nice view
and guess what... they are Goldish! I know right! Friends on day one!
Between the two of them, they explained quite clearly that there are good
and bad fancy gullies. Everyone seems to do things that sooths their souls
down here, but there is an extra layer of awesomness! Your cousins from the
dark side of the moons also war with us because...
WE INSPIRE THEM TO FIGHT US! WE ARE THE INSPERATION THAT BRINGS THEIR LIVES
MEANING!!!!
I can think of nothing more joyous than to know that they are just following
a sense of duty, but deep down they know how amazing we are. They are like
our little tiny siblings and I just want to love them and hold them and
smooch them right in the face!
Love ya pops!
- Cobolorum
Writer: Azu'veton
Date Fri Aug 30 10:19:42 2024
To All Abaddon ( IMM RP Fatale )
Subject The Bloodlands
Claws tatter across the hoard of treasures beholden to Azu'veton. In the
clouds above Abaddon, he looked down on the Bloodlands.
Quiet
Still
To the Blue, the stillness around the Bloodlands was not welcomed. As the
unity from the Blood Wars subsided, strife persisted. Unknown to the cause
of the strife, Azu'veton reached out to the mortals of Abaddon.
"We need to find the holy grail"
As a Firstborne of Fatale, Azu'veton has given aid, and assistance to the
battle of the dracolich, and now to the search of the holy grail. It has
flown throughout the realm. Searching to no avail. The Blue wondered if
the aid of the Firstborne releases the mortal citizens of accountability to
allow the Bloodlands to become of such disarray.
"Does it let them die?" Azu'veton thought to himself as he circled around
his hoard. As the Great Wyrm plopped on the ground, he let out an annoyed
sigh.
Its scales flittered and glinted amongst the swirling thunder and lightning
that surrounded his lair.
It might have to intervene further... With that thought, the Blue closed
its eyes.
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Sat Aug 31 17:41:06 2024
To Nordmaar ( Religion Imm Rp All )
Subject Hadleigh's Journey 16th Birthday Eve
The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over
the library. She stretched, feeling the remnants of the fever finally leave
her body. Today was the eve of her 16th birthday, and despite the lingering
itchiness from the chicken pox, she felt a surge of excitement.
Greighsone, ever the loyal best friend, was already awake and setting up a
new card game on the small table by the window. "Good morning, Hadleigh,"
he greeted with a smile. "Ready for another day of rest and recovery?"
Hadleigh nodded, her spirits lifted by his cheerful demeanor. "I am,
Greighsone. And thank you for keeping me company. I don't know what I
would have done without you these past few days."
They spent the morning playing card games, their laughter filling the room.
Greighsone shared stories of his own childhood, and Hadleigh found herself
lost in the tales of adventure and mischief. They talked about the future,
making plans for when she was fully recovered. Hadleigh dreamed of riding
her horse through the meadows, visiting New Thalos market, and perhaps even
embarking on a small adventure of her own.
As the day wore on, the maid, now fully recovered, returned to her duties.
She brought news from the village and a basket of fresh fruits. "It's good
to see you looking better, Princess Hadleigh," she said warmly. "Your
parents will be so relieved when they return."
Hadleigh's heart swelled with anticipation. She missed her parents dearly
and couldn't wait to see them again. The thought of their return filled her
with hope and joy.
That afternoon, Hadleigh and Greighsone sat by the window, watching the
stars appear one by one. "Tomorrow is a special day," Greighsone said
softly. "Your 16th birthday. What do you wish for, Hadleigh?"
Hadleigh thought for a moment, her eyes reflecting the twinkling stars. "I
wish for an axe and a new dagger," she said with a determined smile. "And
to spend the day with my family, having a picnic with stories, games, and
lots of food."
Greighsone chuckled. "An axe and a dagger, you say? Quite the adventurous
spirit you have."
As the night deepened, Hadleigh felt a sense of peace she hadn't felt in
days. The fevers had broken, and she was feeling better. Hadleigh knelt
next to her bed an prayed to Austinian, thanking him for helping her get
through the chicken pox and boredom and for blessing her with an amazing
family. Tomorrow was a new day, filled with promise and the hope and her
16th Birthday.
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Sun Sep 1 10:25:36 2024
To Nordmaar ( Imm Religion All )
Subject Hadleigh's Journey Sweet 16
Hadleigh stirred in her sleep, her dreams vivid and enchanting. On the
morning of her 16th birthday, she found herself walking through a golden
field, her loyal tiger by her side. The field stretched endlessly, bathed
in the warm glow of the rising sun. In the distance, a magnificent chapel
stood tall, its spires reaching towards the heavens.
As Hadleigh and her tiger walked closer, she noticed the sky above was
filled with ethereal figures. Raphiel, with his majestic wings, soared
gracefully, and beside him was a radiant figure, a beautiful glow of light
and an outline that Hadleigh instinctively knew was Austinian. Her Birth
Mother and Father watched her with pride as she walked through the field.
The sight filled her with a sense of peace and wonder.
Around her, the field was alive with life. Doves fluttered overhead,
butterflies danced among the flowers, and lilies bloomed in abundance. A
man was diligently building a home for his family, his face serene and
content. Nearby, a little boy with fiery red curls laughed joyfully as he
chased after her, holding a garden snake.
The dream was a tapestry of joy and tranquility, a reflection of Hadleigh's
deepest hopes and desires. As she walked, she felt a profound connection to
the world around her, a sense of purpose and belonging.
Suddenly, Hadleigh awoke, the dream still fresh in her mind. She smiled,
feeling a warmth in her heart. Today was her 16th birthday, a day she had
been eagerly anticipating. She quickly realized that she felt amazingmore
energized than she had ever felt before. All the red spots that had
troubled her had vanished, leaving her skin clear and glowing. She felt
different, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why.
She quickly dressed and made her way to the grand dining hall, where her
parents, King Malcomn and Queen Carmyne, awaited her with beaming smiles.
"Happy birthday, my dear Hadleigh," her mother said, embracing her warmly.
"Thank you, Mother, Father," Hadleigh replied, her eyes sparkling with joy.
Greighsone, her best friend, joined them at the table, and they All enjoyed
a lavish birthday breakfast together. The table was laden with All her
favorite foods, including a ton of bacon. The day was just beginning, and
Hadleigh knew it would be filled with love, laughter, and new adventures.
Writer: Zuryarasmi
Date Sun Sep 1 14:51:46 2024
Writer: Zuryarasmi
Date Sun Sep 1 14:55:23 2024
Writer: Zuryarasmi
Date Sun Sep 1 14:58:04 2024
Writer: Zuryarasmi
Date Sun Sep 1 15:01:48 2024
Writer: Zuryarasmi
Date Sun Sep 1 15:04:27 2024
Writer: Andreyna
Date Sun Sep 1 16:27:03 2024
To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Verminasia Arkane Marauders Chaos Zandreya Raije Xenophon Imm Rp Religion
Subject Time is Up
Andreyna sat at the stone table, a map of Algoron spread out before her.
The chamber of the Speakers gave her the privacy she needed to be lost in
her thoughts.
The Vallens had set out troops and ships to the Fort ages ago, preparing to
join Zandreya in Her Rage to bring the Marauders down for embracing the Warp
and their Everwar. The troops had been there for sometime, preparing,
fighting off small skirmishes that would disrupt their plans to meet with
the Mother on the field of battle.
The time had now come. The Verminasians would be joining them. Andreyna
and Tephysea had met with the Advisor and her General, both kingdoms coming
to an agreement. They would bring war upon the Fort. The Marauders have
had plenty of time to repent of their wrongdoings, and they still not would
accept any blame.
Both armies would meet together upon the battlefields, allies against a
common cause, the destruction of the Warp and All who would embrace them.
Andreyna slid a figurine across the map, placing the small elven statue on a
large village. Time was up. It was time for the elves and Verminasians to
release their own storms.
A faint smile crossed the lips of the Elf-Queen, the voice of Commander of
the Arkanian army entered her thoughts. Perhaps under this new leadership
the Mystic Kingdom would stand against those who not only threatened their
continent, but the entire world.
Writer: Telthian
Date Mon Sep 2 11:41:25 2024
To Shadow Verminasia Astryn ( All Imm Religion Storyline Scorn Cayenna )
Subject Pharthati - {uDeep Shadows, Dark Designs II
'Faith is not where power comes from, daughter. Faith is how we are able
to endure it's price.'
The days of play in the family gardens had long given way to tutelage and
schooling. Challenges and setbacks were carefully crafted and inflicted
upon the young girl like a stair to climb without her own understanding of
where it led. Enough to make her stumble and fail, to learn to accept the
bitter draught of hopes and aspirations spoiling in her mouth. And enough
to learn the grit and tenacity to see beyond the moment and rise stronger
for the next.
'Your sister took to the blades from a young age, fleet and silent. But you
favored the books, and so we fed your curiosity. Explore where others have
not yet thought to tread.'
Telthian presented an opening, and Astryn, still too naive, too eager to
prove herself, seized upon it. Her footwork led forward motion, the rapier
driving forward swiftly full of confidence that this time was hers. How
proud mother would be that victory was her's.
A shock of sudden numbness jolted through her and the sword tumbled from her
grip, clattering to the dark marbled floor of the atrium. A line of
swollen, malicious purple rose to the surface of the teen's fair-skinned
forearm where the riposte put an end to their morning duel. The blow was
untempered, a bone-breaking punishment for overextending herself.
'Brave, but foolish. You are still too eager. Master yourself, child.'
Better to learn now. Bones can be mended.
'Do not cry.'
Writer: Telthian
Date Mon Sep 2 11:54:39 2024
To Shadow Verminasia Astryn ( All Imm Religion Storyline Scorn Cayenna )
Subject Pharthati - {uDeep Shadows, Dark Designs III
Cold, impartial eyes looked down upon his daughter as she sank to the
floor in a heap beside the weapon. Choking back a soundless wail the young
woman stifled the pain, but the trembling lip and watery eyes told of a
levee barely holding back floodwaters. Lowering the twin to her discarded
training sword, Telthian stepped over and past the girl as she struggled to
fight back her tears.
His vision searched beyond the arched window to the courtyards below the
estate's lofty perch where the High Priestess was engaged in conversation
greeting the arrival of a number of dark elves. The invitations were sent
months ago, a conclave held to bring the disparate factions of their
diaspora together.
'It seems we are finished for now. The delegate has arrived, clean yourself
up and-' before he could complete the thought, a sudden pain sharp and hot
pierced the meat of his back, burning like a coal between his
shoulderblades.
Gripping her sword in her left, his daughter had risen and though she
cradled the broken wrist against her midsection, a familiar ember of
defiance burned in her eyes behind a waterfall of disheveled black hair.
'No. We are not finished, father.'
Thin trails of umbra clung to her still as the spell's energy dissipated
from its weaving and Astryn began to prepare another. A tremble ran through
Astryn's voice, the notes composed of equal parts pain and malice.
The jagged lines crossing Telthian's skin lit with the power of the
eventide, its channel flowing through him and into the atrium to drown
father and daughter in darkness.
Writer: Velandris
Date Mon Sep 2 23:38:39 2024
To Verminasia Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Arkane Marauders All ( Imm Roleplay Cayenna Xenophon Derigimus ) Piknim Siyavash Gorguth Andreyna Tephysea Nereza Agu Skoden Viszathyk Xinirrais Telthian Symantha
Subject In the Shadow of War: Deployment ( Part 1 of 3 )
The bright sound of trumpets and accompanying brass instruments filled
the cool morning air with a stirring, uplifting refrain as metered, rhythmic
drums guided the steps of ranks upon ranks of marching men, a pounding
cadence that carried the army of Verminasia to war.
Dozens of Verminasian flags waved from the parapets, from the gatehouse and
from the tips of the staves held aloft by the standard bearers. Scattered
across the vast ranks of the assembled host were the flags of individual
duchies and counties. A few bannermen who carried the emblems of specific
great houses marched beside those who carried the insignia of each company.
Out of respect, the Verminasian flag was invariably flown higher than the
rest, reinforcing the hierarchy of loyalty to country above personal pride.
From his reviewing stand, Velandris watched the formations of soldiers
advance in perfectly ordered lines. It was a strange thing, the ariel
general silently mused, that the people needed to see him watching over the
mustering and deploying army. In fact, his staff sergeant had insisted on
constructing a new reviewing stand for the occasion.
For the citizens of the mighty kingdom, watching the head of the military as
he watched the troops was, inexplicably, as much of a component of the
pageantry as the musicians, the heraldry on shields, the parade dress for
the officers, and the barding on the mounts. The fact that he had
frequently reviewed each individual corp and unit and that the soldiers were
well acquainted with the presence of their general moving through their
ranks was somehow less important than him standing stoically and watching
this final, ceremonial departure of the army on its campaign.
The full, marshaled force of Verminasia's military might was a breathtaking
sight to behold, Velandris observed as the procession continued beneath him.
The rattle of chainmail echoed each step of the swordsmen who accounted for
the rank and file of the infantry. Platoons of heavily-armored men-at-arms
came next and then the many rows of pikemen with their pennant-adorned pikes
and glaives. A legion of the famed Iagothal longbowmen followed with a
complement of crossbowmen from Tha'Dhal. The squadrons of heavy cavalry
riding Karecus destriers were already arrayed in the staging grounds beyond
the open gate through which the infantry still marched. The light cavalry
astride their coursers- some of which had come from house Tinolqa's own
stables- were already fanning out into separate brigades to screen the
army's march.
Verminasia's territory was well-populated by humans and so it was natural
for humans to account for the bulk of the military, but many storied elves,
minotaur, and goblinkin had made names for themselves and for their people
throughout Verminasian history and their progeny made a proud showing on the
parade grounds.
Units of ogre berserkers studded the infantry lines as did a full phalanx of
minotaur juggernauts. Marching with the auxiliary corp were teams of goblin
tunnelers and hobgoblin sappers. There was even a small cadre of
spear-wielding warg riders among the cavalry. Dark elves were scattered
throughout the ranks of archers while more ran with their wild elven kin as
part of the extensive scout relay that had been working tirelessly for
weeks.
Bringing up the rear of the departing army was Verminasia's notorious brute
squad- a team of orcs, giant ogres, and trolls who were responsible for
bringing the siege engines into battle. A separate regiment was designated
as an honor guard to protect the vital war machines, along with the war
mages and the dark clergy of the medical corp who accompanied them.
Writer: Velandris
Date Mon Sep 2 23:42:54 2024
To Verminasia Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Arkane Marauders All ( Imm Roleplay Cayenna Xenophon Derigimus ) Piknim Siyavash Gorguth Andreyna Tephysea Nereza Agu Skoden Viszathyk Xinirrais Telthian Symantha
Subject In the Shadow of War: Deployment ( Part 2 of 3 )
As impressive as the traditional catapults, mantlets, and wagon-mounted
ballistae were and as vital as the winch-framed battering ram and carts of
siege ladders were, it was the three precious trebuchets that were the pride
of Verminasia's artillery. True feats of engineering, few structures could
long withstand the powerful payloads those trebuchets could sling from afar.
Watching the final soldiers march through the gates to join with the vast
column that now stretched out of sight, Velandris let his attention shift to
the city itself.
Expecting some form of reprisal- be it from the Marauder's erstwhile allies
in Chaos, from the forces of the Light, or from some yet unforeseen threat-
Velandris had left a sizable garrison of soldiers to bolster the city's
defenders. While himself, Advisor Cracklespark, and most other senior
officers were away from the city, the kingdom's defense would be overseen by
the infamous order of the Executors. Meanwhile, Verminasia's armada had
already set sail to meet with the vessels of the other nations who now
blockaded Fort Ironclad's port.
Matters at home and in the field were as stable and well-tended as could be
reasonably expected in such a situation. In fact, for being on the cusp of
war and a siege against the fort of one of the most storied armies in
history- indeed, against those favored by the God of War himself- everything
was progressing so well and so smoothly that Velandris found himself feeling
more than slightly discomfited and on edge.
Verminasia was as strong as it had been in recent history. Their allies in
the Vallenwoods had beleaguered Fort Ironclad in a long campaign of
attrition beneath Zandreya's perpetual storm. Now, it seemed probable that
Arkane would join in the campaign to strike down their ancient aggressors
who had held Arkane as a vassal state for a generation. With such powerful
allies standing with Verminasia and with the Marauders as weak as they had
been since losing their continents-spanning empire in generations past, it
seemed as though victory was All but assured.
Yet there remained the matter of whether the heretics of the Warp might stir
themselves to aid the Marauders. Surely, they would not wish to lose their
foothold on Arkania and would attempt to bind Raije's Army to their cause
once again. There was also the chance of the Light attempting to seize the
initiative against the forces of Darkness at a critical moment. Even
without those external threats, sieges were seldom swiftly concluded even in
ideal circumstances. Algoron itself was no stranger to freak events and
inconceivable occurrences that could confound mortal ambitions.
With those concerns vying for attention in his mind, Velandris held his
resolute stance on the reviewing stand, his face schooled to the reserved,
polite courtier's expression which he had trained himself to maintain since
his first indoctrination into the royal court and the conniving world of
politics among the old bloods of the landed gentry.
For the formal military occasion, he was also in full regalia as befitted a
general of one of the realm's great powers. While the burnished, gleaming
armor was ceremonial, it was also functional for battle- although, perhaps
it was less than ideal for taking flight as he sorely wished to do in order
to oversee the march. Yet that would hardly be appropriate for his rank.
He would have to content himself with the reports of the scouts and of the
Advisor's secret allies whose vision surely exceeded that of most mortals.
Writer: Velandris
Date Mon Sep 2 23:49:31 2024
To Verminasia Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Arkane Marauders All ( Imm Roleplay Cayenna Xenophon Derigimus ) Piknim Siyavash Gorguth Andreyna Tephysea Nereza Agu Skoden Viszathyk Xinirrais Telthian Symantha
Subject In the Shadow of War: Deployment ( Part 3 of 3 )
A stir among his honor guard- another component of his rank to which he
was having difficulty adjusting- brought Velandris' focus to his immediate
surroundings. A lieutenant from the Executioners was admitted past the
shieldwall of his guard. In an unexpected display of uncertainty, the
hardened man licked his lips before ducking his head and speaking.
"The prisoner is prepared in accordance with your directions, General. I
assume you still wish to transport her instead of leaving her in our care?"
The hesitance in the man's voice betrayed his preference that the prisoner
not remain anywhere near him.
"Correct," Velandris replied. "The mentalist can keep her entranced in
slumber until we secure our forward camp. I will question her myself then.
The illusionist will ensure that the armored coach does not draw any
attention during the march."
The lieutenant opened his mouth as though to say something, likely about the
expense or the other precautions in place which Velandris had chosen not to
voice aloud in a public place. But, instead, he closed his mouth with an
audible snap of his teeth. Seeming to regain his usual detached air of
competence- quite likely from knowing that the prisoner was no longer his
problem- the lieutenant gave a quick salute before departing.
Resisting the desire to shake his head, Velandris looked back out over the
parapet at the marching army. His gambit with the strange prisoner was a
risk, but war was always a gamble. A wise man had once observed that it was
a cardinal rule of war that young men died and no one could change that
rule. As General, it was Velandris' responsibility to balance success
against that cost.
The Marauder's still bore the taint of Chaos and their past dalliance with
the Warp showed that they were weak-willed enough to be swayed.
Consequently, they might well be swayed again one day. No single
organization had caused as much carnage, had wrought as much devastation, or
had laid as many lands low throughout history as the Marauders. So many
lands had been burned by the fires of their unending war that it was
astonishing so few were willing to join with Verminasia and Shalonesti in
purging this threat to the world. Morality was on the side of Verminasia
and Her allies. Yet, the fact that their actions were justified could not
change the fact that many would die by Velandris' command.
That thought only added to the disquiet that laid over Velandris' heart as
he watched those in his charge march to war. The Shadow of War laid over
them all, and, perhaps soon, over All of Algoron.
Writer: Symantha
Date Tue Sep 3 03:51:56 2024
To All Nordmaar ( RP ) Telthian Astryn
Subject The Last of Few
There'd been reason to suspect that her mother had descended from
Nordmaar. The accent, for one, should have been a bigger sign than even the
curly coppery hair but Symantha had been a different animal in those vernal
days and hadn't felt the need to explore what their mother had clearly not
wished to share.
Still a resident of Althainia; a cleric, in the employ of the Clergy, who
spent most of her days attending the library, the open invitation to travel
and attend a glorious ceremony of celebration - the birth of King William
MacCallum's sons, in fact - had been too tempting to pass up.
A fanciful imagination had accompanied the mousy exterior, garbed in a pale
robe and glasses, carrying a simple symbol of Austinian and a basic pony's
tail to keep her voracious curls out of the way - garnering absolutely no
attention that day had left her free to marvel in silence from the moment
she stepped foot within the gated city proper to the moment she entered the
great hall.
The Lucent City had had its wonders - from spectacular gardens to a soaring
palace of marble and gold - but, there had been a harsh northern comfort in
Nordmaar that demanded appreciation upon first experience and that day, she
had.
Scores of people from every kingdom had come to attend. Commoners to
rulers, priests to Pirates, Conclave to Armada, and a smattering of Eclipse,
Valor, and Gypsy. Even the Knights of Gareth and Storm had come in
significant numbers but more surprisingly, the elves of Shalonesti who she
had never witnessed before.
An elegant delegation of magnificent golds and greens, red-sashed guards,
and All the haughty majesty of the Shalonost. Almost, she had wondered to
herself, it seemed their glittering presences might outdo All others but
once they had taken reign over their corner of the hall and the music had
begun to lure the nobles onto the dance floor, attentions shifted
appropriately.
The New Thalosians in their brightly colored silks, knights in their crisp
outfits, Nordmaarian's in their sashes and kilts. Everyone who knew the
steps, it seemed, took flight beneath the hang of crystal chandeliers.
It was the first time she would find herself in the proverbial 'company' of
so much privilege and pomp. To be witness to both celebration and scandal.
Standing within the northern gates again, to bear witness to the wedding of
a MacCallum this time, she accepted that she was likely the last of few who
carried that particular moment still. Did it rank as worthwhile history?
It was fair certain that Algoron would see no more of such grand affairs -
the leaders and peoples of the world had lost the taste for such things.
The steady wear of time had dulled the rosy sheen of her older memories and
it was her mother that initially lifted from the shadows of her mind a
second time to divert attention as her gaze swept the mostly unrecognizable
faces. The woman had been of the MacLeod, but that part of her history was
dead now and thus where she re-confined the spectre.
Her blood-spotted gaze instead took in the stance of Telthian and Astryn
Schwartz. Father and daughter; dark, imperious, noble. The gold luster was
largely gone but, in its place, umbra now reigned and she smiled vaguely to
herself as she perceived it threading even among this Light-inclined
gathering.
Writer: Maccus
Date Tue Sep 3 10:55:15 2024
Writer: Maccus
Date Tue Sep 3 11:06:06 2024
Writer: Riordan
Date Tue Sep 3 17:40:10 2024
To Verminasia Shalonesti_Kingdom Arkane Marauders All ( Imm Roleplay Cayenna Xenophon Derigimus ) Piknim Siyavash Gorguth Andreyna Tephysea Nereza Agu Skoden Viszathyk Xinirrais Telthian Symantha
Subject In the Shadow of War: Contribution
Lord Riordan Atennim sat in his study at Atennim Manor as he pondered the
recent reports of unrest in the south. Although he had not been formally
summoned, Riordan recognized an opportunity to support Verminasia in aiding
their allies in Shalonesti. He had invested heavily in his academy,
training a force skilled in the use of cast arcanium cannons. Determined to
contribute on his own terms, he decided to prepare his forces for
deployment, knowing they could make a significant impact in the conflict.
Without delay, Riordan left his study and set out on horseback toward the
academy. The journey took him across his vast lands, past rolling fields
and dense forests, until he reached the bustling training grounds where his
soldiers practiced with discipline and focus. Upon arrival, he summoned
Captain Barrow, his chief artillery officer. "Prepare two batteries for
deployment," Riordan ordered. Captain Barrow nodded, knowing exactly what
was required. The academys operations were efficient; each battery,
consisting of four cannons and a replacement, would be readied with all
necessary equipment and supplies.
At Barrow's command, soldiers moved swiftly to prepare the cannons, assemble
the crews, and gather the supplies. Riordan watched the preparations with
pride, knowing that although he would remain at his manor to continue his
strategic oversight, his men were ready to serve the kingdom.
That evening, Riordan composed a letter to the Verminasian military
commanders, informing them of his decision to send two batteries of arcanium
cannons to support their efforts. He highlighted the rigorous training his
crews had undergone and their readiness to be deployed. He also mentioned
that Lieutenant Grizzik, a goblin officer known for his tactical acumen and
expertise with artillery, would accompany the batteries to provide advice on
their use.
With the letter sealed with his insignia, Riordan entrusted it to a swift
courier bound for the capital. As the messenger rode away into the night,
Riordan felt confident in his decision. He had acted proactively to
strengthen Verminasias forces, and his cannons would soon be an asset in the
kingdoms military strategy.
At dawn, the artillery batteries assembled at the academys grounds, ready
for the journey to the Verminasian military camp. The arcanium cannons,
gleaming in the morning light, were meticulously maintained by their crews,
who now stood at attention. Each cannon was hitched to sturdy draft horses,
with supply wagons loaded with firedust, shot, and provisions.
Lieutenant Grizzik, tasked with leading the convoy and advising on the
artillerys deployment, reviewed the final preparations. Despite his goblin
heritage, his command was unquestionedhis experience and skill had earned
him the respect of his men. Riordan watched from a distance as the convoy
began to move, knowing his place was to guide from afar, not to fight on the
front lines. As the cannons and their crews set off, he was filled with a
sense of purpose and anticipation.
After several days of travel, the artillery units arrived at the Verminasian
palace parade grounds. The parade grounds was a sprawling site, filled with
the activity of soldiers preparing for the conflict ahead. Riordans men
quickly maneuvered the cannons into position, demonstrating the precision
and discipline drilled into them at the academy. Lieutenant Grizzik
reported to the commanding officers, ready to advise on how best to
integrate the artillery into their plans.
Though Riordan remained at Atennim Manor, focused on his duties and the
broader strategies at play, his influence was evident. The batteries were
now part of the Verminasian forces, ready to be deployed wherever they were
most needed, and Riordan was confident that his cannons would soon prove
their value on the battlefield.
Writer: Piknim
Date Tue Sep 3 19:01:59 2024
To Verminasia Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Arkane Shadow Marauders All ( rp imm Cayenna Xenophon Derigimus ) Viszathyk Xinirrais Carrionmaw
Subject In the Shadow of War: Reflections II
In the witching hours before Verminasia's army set forth on campaign, a
familiar reverie filled the dreamscape of its would-be ruler.
In it, Piknim rode strange beasts through a sea of night that gripped and
clung like a stygian mire, threatening to pull her into the depths. Behind
her lay the tortuous screams of titanic hosts more formidable than she might
ever have been, but they underestimated her spark and paid with their lives.
Bloodied and battle-scarred, they continue to gallop in a race against time.
Their steeds' hearts thunder in their chests, their mouths froth with foam,
and their lungs burn as they sprint at a speed previously unthinkable.
Raising the standard of a sword and crescent moon high overhead, the
Darkfinder and her companions pressed onward toward a crumbling island at
the edge of the Rip. Somewhere deep within the infinite night a thundering
choir of light pierced the tenebrous sky in pursuit of their prize.
A shroud of {uumbral threads clung to the Darkfinder until its portent
unfolded in full before dissipating with Arkania's first light, yet the
puzzle remained incomplete - itself a promise of wonder, beauty,
transformation, and the impossible yet to be found at the edge of the
familiar world for one bold enough to seek it.
Piknim slipped out of bed, donned a nightrobe of indigo satin, and stepped
out onto the palace balcony. Her violet gaze wandered the darkest ends of
the horizon, perhaps in search of the crumbling island in her dreams. Did
it exist in reality at the edge of the Rip, or merely in the abstract as a
metaphor for something more tangible? Would it only manifest if and when
she left Verminasia behind to seek in earnest? Would it still be there
after her duties in Verminasia were fulfilled, or did the opportunity fade
with every passing day like the foolhardy flicker of a candle thoughtlessly
melting its core to nothing?
A dark figure with feathered wings entered the peripheral of her vision,
silhouetted against dusky gold and primrose hues of a morning horizon,
before wheeling about in a wide arc and descending at a low glide.
Velandris alighed upon her balcony with avian grace and dipped in a polite
bow, ever the conscientious courtier.
Piknim offered the General a beaming smile and more than a passing glance,
noting his lack of a proper shirt. Velandris often greeted the morning with
laps around the palace to keep his body fighting fit. Perspiration gleamed
on his lean musculature and his silvery plumage shimmered in the burgeoning
sunlight. What kender could resist a bit of eye candy? Ariel had a
tendency to look like angels, or demons, or a little bit of both.
"Well, well! Aren't you an early bird today! Did you bring me a worm?"
"I've seen the sort of wyrms one finds in your company, Advisor," Velandris
replied with a wry smile, stretching both arms behind his head. "They might
mistake me for breakfast."
"Who could blame them? You've the look of a tasty snack about you, after
all," Piknim quipped with a wink of mischief in her eyes. Velandris knew
better than to take her banter seriously, however. The Darkfinder had a
propensity for insolence, testing boundaries, provoking affront, and
invading personal space as both a means of domination and method of
discovering weak points to be exploited. Everyone looks like a delicious
morsel to a right and proper wicked witch.
Writer: Piknim
Date Tue Sep 3 19:10:27 2024
To Verminasia Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Arkane Shadow Marauders All ( rp imm Cayenna Xenophon Derigimus ) Viszathyk Xinirrais Carrionmaw
Subject In the Shadow of War: Reflections III
Piknim and Velandris shared a chortle before turning their attention in
tandem to the palace parade grounds, where thousands of troops were already
lining up in formation for accountability and inspection before the
deployment parade. A moment of somber silence passed, as though the
kender's usual mirth had suddenly collapsed beneath the weight of recent
decisions and gravity of consequences yet to come.
"I hope we win," Piknim stated plaintively.
Velandris eyed her askance. Another moment passed, as though the kender
were digging deep into her pockets for a smattering of candid thoughts
buried under so much junk.
"I always wanted a seat at the big table.. the War Room, the House of
Lords, the Dark Council. And the biggest seat of All is.. it's right
there," she continued, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Verminasia's
throne room, "It's not mine to claim. Not yet. But now I see it for what
it truly is, Velandris. A throne is no lofty perch. It's a precipice."
The Darkfinder hung her head slightly.
"I don't want to be remembered as the one who lost it all."
Velandris found himself struck not only by the abject selfishness of
Piknim's admission, lamenting the potential loss of her legacy over the
lives of her soldiers, but also by the profound vulnerability underpinning
it.
The higher one climbs, the harder they fall. Piknim had begun her climb at
the existential bedrock of potentiality. Kender were not created with a
capacity to shoulder burdens of great responsibility, yet by some grand
irony the future of Verminasia had fallen into her hands, if only for a
short while, as ephemeral as a trinket passing from one pouch to another.
Could she carry it safely and responsibly? By the time Piknim passed it on,
would the realm be more lustrous than she found it - or broken beyond
repair?
The ariel's manicured tone of courtly reticence shifted to one of
discernable earnest, with a smile that failed to fully reach his lips but
could faintly be heard. "See that you do not lose yourself first, Advisor."
Piknim tilted her head to look up at Velandris with a familiar fire in her
eyes, kindled by sparks of ardent optimism and hell-bent hunger. An
irrepressible grin tore across her child-like features, splitting them from
ear to ear.
"I hope we kick ass," she corrected herself.
Writer: Nolen
Date Tue Sep 3 19:14:14 2024
To All Penelopina Knighthood Justice (Taliena Austinian Imm Croatoan Whiskey)
Subject Ready or Not here we Grow
I strolled down the coast of Tropicana wondering if I got my directions
right. I looked around the coast, boy was this fog thick, oh wait, that was
just the smoke coming from my pipe. I quickly knocked the ashes into a
small pocket, Never leave a trace for the enemy, and take care of the world
the Father provided. Pondering at the inner voices in my head I stuck the
pipe back in my mouth and sucked in air, baah Im always doing this, tucking
my pipe away I continued down the coast. Well Fred, we're nearly there its
time to meet your friend Amarilla. I thought about the talk I had with
Miss Pene early that eve, wondering why I was amazed people didnt care about
plants and herbology as much as I did, everyone person has their own gifts
and their own place, the light of the father shines differently for all
because All are special in his eyes where do I come up with this stuff? Ah
task at hand task at hand I thought almost stumbling into the ocean Fred
bumped me back along the path just in time to spot the sapling. Thanks
Fred.
HERE IT IS FRED, come sit down. Sitting down I grabbed a couple of
mushrooms from a pouch, Fred gave me a cross look, You know Fred if I was a
priest of Zandreya I would tell ya about the circle of life and such, but Im
not so I wont. You do know though that mushrooms are fungus? They grow in
dark, humid, mucky places, you know that Fred? Fred looked at me even more
unamused, Well I say that because theyre quite brilliant arent they,
shrouded in darkness but a little bit of light shines upon them and gives
them the hope they need to sprout from the ground and come alive, you know
Fred thats All it takes, sometimes the smallest amount of light can bring
life from the darkest of places. I looked down at the Amarilla with
admiration and love, the little sapling had so much potential in those small
roots. You know Amarilla thats what youre going to be in this world the
light that gives hope, love, and brings life to those souls lost in the
dark. I grabbed my lute and started plucking at the strings testing their
tune, You know Amarilla they say your name will always keep a bright future,
I know you are going to make a brighter future. I looked at Fred who was
lying on his belly with his face inches from Amarilla. My little Crann
ornaide, my ornament tree, you shall be decorated with the love of the
world. Strumming my lute I began to sing.
O, amarilla Crann Bethadh, I am happy to see,
Such a wonderful beautiful ornament tree
You stand on the shore, for All the days end,
So that you you can grown into the Crann Bethadh
O, Amarilla Crann Bethadh, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you, the more I think long,
I know your roots will grow so strong,
Lords and peasants and everywhere in between,
Shall clamor to see the beauty that is Amarilla the ornament tree
All the birds in the forest they sing,
Saying, "Look at the shelter, this is where we will sleep"
Guiding the lost your branches do sing,
Follow me west into the light you shall see,
The love of light has a home even for thee.
"Inspiration from Bonny Portmore - and small amount of plagirism"
Crann Bethadh is the Irish Gaelic word for Tree of Life.
Writer: Aodhen
Date Thu Sep 5 00:21:31 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Thu Sep 5 13:11:29 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Thu Sep 5 14:06:27 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Thu Sep 5 14:10:58 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Thu Sep 5 14:13:36 2024
Writer: Archal
Date Thu Sep 5 17:10:53 2024
To Drakkara Shadow Verminasia Symantha Telthian All ( Imm Religion RP )
Subject The Unity Imperative (I)
A distant sound came up, a pinprick, expanding and drawing not ever
closer, but ever more lucid, until it filled his head like a thousand
gasping screams. He opened his eyes, and discovered the sound was his own
gasping intake of breath, as he regained.. Consciousness? Awareness?
Presence?
Alone, confused, disoriented, he struggled to place himself. In space, but
also in mind. Before long a familiar scent tickled his nose, a pleasant mix
of smoked amber, rose, and sandalwood, and his ears filled again -- this
time a soft crackle, as a thin splinter of lightning rippled along the
inside of a dark spire.
Archal. He was Archal. Is Archal. Archal Kayen, bastard of Reklah,
denied, attributed to an uncle who did nothing but exist as a patsy for his
father's adultery. And he.. He had to do something. Already it was
fading, like a dream, and he had only just come back from.. From, from
where, damnit? Focus, on the feeling. The imperative. It is an old
imperative and it is made new. Unify. Unify the world. Bring order.
Order to defeat chaos. To defeat Chaos. The only way to face it and
survive.
Because.. Because Chaos isn't just here. Chaos is everywhere, everywhen.
Or.. Will be everywhere, everywhen. Damnit, why couldn't he remember?
Don't dwell, remember or don't. The new purpose is the old purpose.
Unify in Darkness.
He'd lost so much time already.
Writer: Archal
Date Thu Sep 5 17:47:08 2024
Writer: Carmyne
Date Thu Sep 5 20:05:00 2024
To Nordmaar All Kwainin Austinian IMM RP
Subject A Rebirth Part 1 of 3
After a conversation with a priest, Carmyne found herself on Althania,
entering a broken down, burned temple, which she supposed was appropriate
for her relationship with the Gods as of late. Shed quit talking to them.
And a part of her, deep down, had quit believing. Seeing so much tragedy
could shake a person, and Carmyne had been shaken somewhat drastically
throughout her life.
It was Hadleighs influence that had brought her here.
Yes, her daughter was a fledgling priest of Austinian. And yes, when shed
asked her daughter about priests and shrines, shed been ignored due to an
argument earlier that day.
But Hadleigh was a light for all. That much was clear. Even in dark times,
and even when danger was ever present, there was her daughter, shining a
light just by being herself.
And so, with her mind full of questions, she reached out to a stranger who
pointed her in several directions.
It was somewhat poignant that the first location shed arrived to was a
mostly destroyed, burned-out shrine with a broken statue of her God. How...
Appropriate.
Carmyne hesitated outside, considering turning back to her husband and
Nordmaar and the people and places where she felt safest, people who were
real and tangible and ready and willing to drop everything if she needed
help, just as she would drop everything for them.
But then she thought of Hadleigh, and her unshakable belief in Austinian for
all things. There was a time when shed had that same belief in the God of
her father and herself.
So, Carmyne drew a deep breath and stepped into the darkness of the decrepit
temple.
Writer: Carmyne
Date Thu Sep 5 20:11:27 2024
To Nordmaar All Kwainin Austinian IMM RP
Subject A Rebirth Part 2 of 3
Her feet crunched over broken rubble and ash as she moved through the
destruction toward the fallen statue of her God at the front.
She stood there for some time, amused with the irony. It was as if Kwainin
himself held up a mirror to her faith, showing her how lapsed and distant
she had become from Him over time.
It started with her fathers deterioration, then losing him, and then losing
even more until she finally started finding things again: A home, friends,
and a family.
But she was still left with a deep-seated need to hold on tight to anything
and everyone she loved. Fear of losing it All sometimes consumed her, and
that just made her hold on tighter.
Carmyne kneeled in the dirt, crumbled stone, and ash. She didnt close her
eyes. Shed always preferred meeting both dark and light with her eyes wide
open.
Staring at the felled statue, once a great monument to her God, she prayed
for the first time in more years than she could remember.
Kwainin, Keeper o th balance. I ken Ive nae prayed in some time. Ive grown
lax in talkin tae ye an avin faith in ye. Sometimes I dinnae understand why
things appen an we dinnae see or ear from ye.
She paused, as if the challenge would make the keeper of the balance
suddenly appear. A silly thought, perhaps. But still, she paused. And
waited.
The charred half of the broken statue drew her attention as she continued.
Sae, Im ere, tryin tae start oer, tryin tae restore me faith, tryin... Jus
tryin. Carmyne shook her head. How long had she been trying before she
finally quit? Why was she here? Oh yes, a need to know her faith, and the
faith her father once had, was not in vain.
An I suppose thas All a person cin dae, is te try. She continued. I think
it was yae who kept Nordmaar an me familae alive from th banshee awhile
back, an safe from th were-beast last eve. I was certain I felt somethin...
Other, an it made me feel safe.
The feeling of something protecting Malcomn, Hadleigh, and herself was fresh
on her mind. It was another piece of the puzzle propelling her here into
the dust and grime of this broken temple.
Hadleigh, telling her to pray. Hadleigh and Malcomn, her guiding lights.
Writer: Carmyne
Date Thu Sep 5 20:14:35 2024
To Nordmaar All Kwainin Austinian IMM RP
Subject A Rebirth Part 3 of 3
Carmyne swallowed hard, shaking her head as her gaze slid to the
unblemished half of the statue. I dinnae need tae ken ifn it was yae. I
jus wanted tthank ye for watchin oer mae an me familae. Thank ye Lord
Kwainin. An Ill try arder tae be ye disciple.
The temple laid still and quiet, save for the traffic of the roads outside.
Carmyne thought of her immense love for her family, her home, her friends,
and the people who shared Nordmaar with her. She thought of the dichotomy
of light versus dark and how she could often see things from both angles in
neutral territory. She contemplated her dreams of growing in her magic and
her craft, and growing her family.
I ken Im out o practice, but please keep mae ome, All th people who make it
a home, safe, she whispered.
Maybe it was too big of an ask. But what she experienced the night before,
the presence she felt, it had to mean something. After losing everything at
a young age, having the love Malcomn freely gave her and a light like
Hadleigh in her life had to mean something. The friends she held so dear:
Rhainne, Aodhen, Fionnha, Gaudin, Agu, Ulyssus, that she was so blessed
after such hardship had to mean something.
She knelt in silence for some time before whispering into the ether. Thank
ye for this time wi yae, Lord Kwainin. I needed it.
She rose from the ashes of the broken temple, which she supposed was its own
metaphor. Placing one hand on the charred side, and the other on the
pristine side, she offered quiet thanks and million promises to keep trying.
Writer: Nolen
Date Fri Sep 6 17:19:16 2024
To All Penelopina Knighthood Justice (Taliena Austinian Imm Croatoan Whiskey)
Subject Ready or Not here we Grow (2)
I walked the more familiar Tropica coastline thinking to myself, less fog
today, yes defiantly less fog. Reaching up to grab my pipe in attempt to
seem philosophical my hand passed through air, what the? Looking down my
nose I now noticed it was gone, what was going on? I hadnt been smoking
that kind of blend today. A small clamor arose as George tripped upon his
own feet, silly George was so clumsy, wait a second, GEORGE. The little
tricky Mandragora had somehow nicked it, he looked up at me with a smug
sense of amusement. I reached cocked back my staff ready to deliver a might
blow, Shil le la le ag a meya achu hiya George stood perfectly still as I
swung my staff with All my might spinning in a circle falling flat on my
face. I never was as good at hitting things as I was at throwing em, George
clapped in my face grinning from leaf to leaf, he stuck my pipe in my mouth
as I was spitting out dirt and clapped.
George, stop messing about you know were going to visit Amarilla today. He
just shrugged as I picked myself up and dusted myself off, Not amused. I
continued down the path to the familiar sapling, just as beautiful as she
was the other day. George hustled over sitting down beside her swaying back
and forth, some days Im glad they dont talk much even though they could,
other days, like today, I wish they would just talk a bit more. I still
understood he was communicating with Amarilla in a way that was special and
unique to him and her, it was good for her to have this, just as much as
anything else. I looked up towards the sun-shielding my eyes, it sure was
hot out, instinctively I reached down to the decanter, which was more of a
watering pot these days, and poured a bit of water around Amarilla. I knew
she didnt need it but you dont always need a glass of ice-cold sweet tea on
a hot day, doesnt make it any less refreshing.
Hello Amarilla, no songs today. You know whats amazing though? Trees are
the largest plants in existence Amarilla, your going to be the belle of the
ball so to say. I sat across from George as he looked at me cross, Sorry
George, I know your talking to her Ill let you have your time, Ill just say
a prayer then we have to get back to our duties. Okay? George just
nodded, so I took that as an invitation to begin my prayer. I sat in the
sun just George, Amarilla, and me and began my prayer Father blessed is the
light that provides and protects, it is the salvation for those lost and the
shield for those ensnared. I pray this day asking you as the Father of all
that is good to bless little Amarilla so that she may grow in your service.
I pray that she grows with All the love that the world has to offer her so
that she may return that love and provide healing to the lost and broken
souls of these realms. Protect her from the storms of chaos, destruction,
and darkness, knowing that through your light All darkness light fall upon
all.
As I began to stand I reached into my herb pouch grabbing a nice puff of
peaceblossom, ah yes this matched my mood, I dropped the peaceblossom into
air? The puff of peaceblossom just fell slowly down not falling into my
pipe because my pipe wasnt there. As I began to look up I saw my pipe
clutched in Georges hands as his little legs started him off in a full
sprint, GEORGE!
Writer: Penelopina
Date Fri Sep 6 17:25:26 2024
To All Taliena
Subject Ready or Not, Here We Grow Some More!
{pEven Tropica, hot and warm and humid as it was, was not immune to the
changing of the seasons. Early winter chills would {pleave no snow on the
southernmost continent, but the air was definitely cooler as some of the
leaves began to grow more {pcolorful, and many of its animals became sluggish
and lethargic.
{pThese days Penny felt much the same, stifling another sneeze that gently
racked her half-elven frame. Coming down with {pa cold at the worst possible
time. And still with so much to do.
{pShe pressed on, following the seashells and stones that marked the path from
the beach to the Cathedral of the Heart. {pThere, just off the path, a
familiar lei with colorful flowers marked the beginnings of a brand new baby
tree. The {plittle sprout was just startig to burst its way out of the earthy
ground. Smiling, she kneeled down in the soil {pbeside it, cupping the future
banana tree with her hands. 'It is going to be an absolute joy to welcome
you into the world, little one, {p' she said sweetly.
{pTaking a moment to gently cough and clear her airways, Penny proceeded with
her usual weekly ritual, spilling a healthy {pfew droplets of holy water and
intoning a prayer to the gods for the baby banana tree to grow up big and
strong.
{pShe tried not to think about All the turmoil in the world, the strife, the
chaos, and just focused on this growing tree.
{pShe was about to depart, when she spotted some odd-looking leaves on a
neighboring tree, and stepped closer to inspect. {pThey were half-eaten and
discolored, and as she turned the leaf over, she spotted several small
insects crawling {pabout on the leaf. Parasites, or perhaps mites, she
realized with a wince. While no expert gardener, even Penny {precognized an
infected tree. She would have to return earlier than planned, and with some
herbs to fend off the {pinfestation.
{pShe dreaded the idea of them spreading to the baby tree, especially at so
critical a part of its lifespan. It could {pvery well be disastrous.
{p'I'll be back soon, {p' she promised, already making her way back to the
Tropican docks.
Writer: Agu
Date Fri Sep 6 19:10:30 2024
To All Religion RP Imm Zandreya Austinian Taliena
Subject Here We Grow Again!
As the waves crashed against the shore, bringing sand and silt to the new
land while dragging old silt back into its depths.
In the sands where Penny showed him, the seed was buried. He could sense
it, just as he could sense All the other plants speaking to him in their
tongue-beneath-tongues. Seeds and plants were always telling stories for
those who knew how to hear.
He drew the ritual circle in the sands, using the haft of his shillelagh as
the point. As he connected the points with his design, connecting the
circle symmetrically just as Zandreya's Balance connects All things, he
begins to perform the ritual that would multiply the power of the spell.
Stepping between each line without disturbing the circle.
Once the ritual was completed, he cast the spell. His shillelagh touched
the ground, pouring the spell of Enhance Seed into the buried promise.
As the magic of the spell fizzled out, he began to pray. In silence he
thanked Zandreya for making All things grow, and the gods of Light for
giving them the sun to feed them.
Wandering into the Cathedral of the Heart, he began praying further. That
not only would the tree grow, but it would grow not just into a tree, but
into a mighty temple ampitheatre, elevating its wooden floors above the
ocean. He prayed to All the gods listening that the great and terrible
Ocean Spirit, which certainly sucked and devoured souls just as his mother
taught him, would never be able to reach the refuge of this newly grown
tree. He prayed that it would be true and safe sanctuary from every natural
force which could ever encroach. That the vision of his friends would be
fulfilled beyond their expectations.
"And please, by every sacred, holy, and profane thing in Algoron... Please
do not let anyone's soul be eaten by the Ocean so close by! "
Writer: Aodhen
Date Fri Sep 6 23:15:55 2024
Writer: Aodhen
Date Fri Sep 6 23:18:29 2024
Writer: Aodhen
Date Fri Sep 6 23:20:54 2024
Writer: Malcomn
Date Fri Sep 6 23:23:08 2024
To Nordmaar All Cliath Imm Rp
Subject (The Chase)
STOP!!! Malcomn yelled as a cloaked figure darted toward the Black
wood. He had returned from Winterstone to do a patrol of the Highlands.
With everyone gone he wanted to pick up the slack so that the celebration
could go on. He jumped on his faithful gray stallion and lit out after the
figure. Darting and weaving in and out of trees he seemed to be gaining
ground when the figure stopped and turned to face him. Leaping from the
saddle and drawing his knife and tomahawk in mid flight his feet already
moving as they hit the ground in a full run. Just before getting into
combat range of the cloaked figure he turned and began to run again.
Leaving his horse Malcomn ran and was close on his heels the figure sprang
off of a tree drawing a sword as he spun to face the King. The evening sun
fading he could not tell the origin or the race of the scout with the hood
of its cloak low and a bandana across his face he stood string ready for
combat. Malcomn slowed his pace walking within range of the scout and with
a loud CLANG they engaged eachother. The two exchanged strikes and dodges
and parrys and the tomahawk and the knife deflecting the sword strikes. A
loud thud as Malcomn kicked the scout in the gut sending him backwards. He
presses forward swing after swing he lands a strike with the tomahawk to the
shoulder and a slash to the stomach. The scout hunched over clutching his
wound. A hissing voice the scout said "I have ssssseen All I need to ssssee
the Highlands will fall!" Marching forward Malcomn said demandingly "Nae
on mae watch!!" The Scout turned again to take flight this time a bit
slower from injuries. As the scout neared the river that flows through the
Blackwood a tomahawk wizzing through the trees strikes the scout mid back
sending the scout down into the river. Swiftly behind him Malcomn followed
a blood trail leading into the river. He looked down both directions
looking for a floating corpse and saw nothing. He checked the current and
seen which direction it was moving. He whistled for his stallion and he
came running. Hopping back on him he started down the river following the
current looking for signs of struggle and blood. After a while of searching
he saw a shine in the moon light and rode over to it and found a blood
covered Tomahawk. Weapons in hand he stood ready scanning the area not
finding and drag marks prints or Blood. Looking across the river in the
moon light a dark figure running through the trees appearing to be carrying
a lifeless corpse was weaving in and out of trees running in the opposite
direction of the King. Knowing the path ahead was too dangerous and it was
to dark to track anyone the two Black Claymores that had caught up to him
finally stood ready for orders "Cross tha rivah head southwes ahn ye shoul
pick up tha tracks report back when ye find somethin" The skilled Claymores
offered a slight nod and lit out into the darkness. Malcomn then took up
the saddle again sheathing his tomahawk and knife upon his belt and started
back towards the Highlands pausing several times to look back a feeling of
someone following him upon his already excited nerves. As the dim torch
lights of the Highlands in sigh the feeling easing a bit more as he rode
past the Guards he restationed Patrols on the blackwood side of the walls
and the doubled the watch tower and gate patrols. The feeling of being
watched never completely left him going to check that his Queen and the
Princess were safely tucked into bed he walked out quietly doubling the
Palace Guard and headed back to his perch atop the Highland walls where he
could watch the span of his lands with the full bright moon as his light he
sat until sunrise expecting to see cloaked figures from every direction.
With a bow resting in his lap ready to put it to work he whispers to himself
once more "Nae on mae watch". He sat in wait until the sun began to peek
over the hills.
Writer: Ainsley
Date Sat Sep 7 16:47:15 2024
Writer: Thuken
Date Sat Sep 7 21:08:29 2024
To All Cliath Raije ( Imm Admin Rp )
Subject Testing a new Path for Unity - Uniting the Dwarves
In the heart of the ancient mountain city of Thaxanos, the constant
chatter of dwarves and the bustle of the city drowned out All other sounds.
On this day the continuous pounding of a hammer on steel rang out through
the ancient corridors. Thuken walked through the streets listening to the
sound searching for the source. Each step moved him closer to the monument
at the center of the guild row, stopping at the base of the giant monument
Thuken shifted his eyes upwards placing his hand on the steel anvil the
pounding of the hammer could be felt through the dwarfs hand. Thuken closed
his eyes allowing the feeling to flow through him.
"My Lord, it has been months since the meeting with the leaders of the
Twilight. It has been very overwhelming for me to find a common front for
use aside from that of Chaos. "
"I had set out to find Your lost hammer in the hopes of returning it to You
and rebuilding the damage done to this realm. I returned to the mountain
leaving several capable dwarves to continue the search. "
Thuken opened his eyes looking towards the Forgesmith rune on the palm of
his hand. This rune was granted to him by Cliath and was a constant
reminder that he was not alone in his efforts. Thuken had agreed to be a
protector of balance and the gifts of Creation. These gifts shaped the
realm, their forces interwoven into every living thing, every breath of
wind, every rush of water. The Gifts of Creation were the bedrock of
existence, and Thuken believed it was his sacred duty to protect them from
those who sought to destroy them.
The realm was in turmoil, stories of the raging wars filled the taverns, and
the shadows of further conflict crept through the land. The forces of
light, led by the zealous paladins of the Holy Order, sought to purify the
world, believing the Gifts of Creation should be used solely for the light,
purging All darkness. Meanwhile, the followers of the Abyss, an army of
Shadowknights, desired to remove the sun from the realm plunging the world
into eternal night.
Thuken knew that both sides, in their extremes, were a threat to the
delicate balance that had sustained the realm for centuries. The world
could not survive without both light and darkness, without both creation and
destruction. Thus, Thuken would try again to rally the forces of
neutrality, to defend the gifts from both those who would claim them in the
name of righteousness and those who would shroud them in shadow.
Writer: Thuken
Date Sat Sep 7 21:11:52 2024
To All Cliath Raije ( Imm Admin Rp )
Subject Testing a new Path for Unity - Uniting the Dwarves II
Thuken gathered his hammer, imbued with runes glowing with a radiant
shine, and set off. The journey south was long and arduous, taking Thuken
through the winding mountain passes and into the lush valleys below. As he
traveled, he spoke to those he met along the way farmers, merchants, and
warriors trying to convince them of the need for unity. Some scoffed at
him, well others listened, for in Thukens words they heard a truth that
resonated deep within their bones.
Thuken's journey took him to the edge of Mountain territories, He was
returning to the Halls of Wargar, the ancient seat of power for his people
and the gathering place for the dwarves that fought in the fray, he sought
to unite them all. As he approached, the familiar scent of earth returned
filling his senses, mingling with the crisp, cold air of the mountains. The
Hall was nestled in a deep valley, surrounded by towering cliffs that seemed
to stretch up to the very heavens.
Inside, the great hall was bustling with activity. Dwarves from All across
Algoron and beyond had gathered, their voices rising in a crescendo of
debate and argument. Thuken paused for a moment at the threshold, looking
at the assembled throng. He could see representatives from the Mountain,
Hill, and Dark Dwarf clans and even a number muls.
He took a deep breath and stepped forward, his presence commanding
attention. The room grew quiet as the gathered dwarves turned their eyes
toward him, and Thuken raised his hand, his palm still glowing with the
faint light of the Forgesmith rune.
"Brothers and sisters, " Thuken began, his voice steady and resonant, "I
come before you not as your leader, but as a servant of our people and the
realm itself. The world is changing around us; the forces of light and
darkness seek to claim it for themselves, to bend it to their purposes.
However, we are the guardians of balance. We know that the Gifts of Cliath
are not for one side alone. They are for All who live and breathe, for all
who dream and strive. "
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but Thuken continued, his volume
increasing to be heard over the crowd, his words growing more fervent. "The
Gifts of Creation were not meant to be weapons wielded by those who would
rule over us, but blessings for All to share. We must stand against the
extremes that would tear this realm apart. We must forge a new path, a path
of unity, a path we decide. "
Writer: Thuken
Date Sat Sep 7 21:15:26 2024
To All Cliath Raije ( Imm Admin Rp )
Subject Testing a new Path for Unity - Uniting the Dwarves III
A grizzled dwarf with a long, braided beard and a scarred face stepped
forward. It was Thrain Ironshield, a veteran warrior and one of the most
respected voices in the Hall. "And how do you propose we do this, Thuken?"
He demanded. "The armies of light and shadow are marching as we speak.
They will not listen to reason or talk of balance. They will see only an
enemy to crush. "
Thuken nodded, acknowledging the truth in Thrain's words. "I do not propose
a simple solution, Thrain. I propose we show them the strength of unity.
We need to ally with All those who value balance, who wish not to see this
realm plunged into endless night or blinding light. We make our stand where
it matters most-at the heart of the conflict. We prove that there is
another way. "
A figure stepped out from the shadows at the back of the hall. It was
Xurian Stonehammer, a leader known for his cunning and strategic mind. "And
if they refuse to see reason? " Xurian asked quietly. "If they choose to
bring their war to us? "
"Then we defend what is ours, " Thuken replied a fierce light in his eyes.
"We defend the Gifts, the balance, and the future of this realm. But first,
we must rally others to our cause. Many are tired of war, seek peace, and
understand that both light and shadow have their place. We will build an
army of such souls, one that will stand as a bulwark against the tide of
chaos. "
Thrain Ironshield grunted, a smile creeping onto his lips. "Its a mad plan,
Thuken. But then again, were dwarves. Madness is in our blood. "
A ripple of laughter spread through the hall, and Thuken felt a surge of
hope. "Then let us prepare, " he declared. "For we march not to conquer,
but to save. To save this realm from those who would see it destroyed. "
With a roar, the gathered dwarves raised their weapons high, and for the
first time in a long time, the Hall of Wargar had a direction and purpose so
clear. Thuken knew the road ahead would be fraught with danger, but he also
knew he would not walk it alone. The dwarves of Wargar would be beside him.
He was also hopeful they would find more allies along the way. Together
they would stand as a beacon of hope and balance in a world teetering on the
edge of chaos.
Thuken gave his final instructions for the dwarves to prepare as he made
plans to visit the other Kingdoms that might be willing to join their cause.
Writer: Tobryck
Date Sun Sep 8 18:40:07 2024
To All RP Imm Religion Fatale
Subject Nightmare Crusade: Volume 1: Beginnings
Tobryck's life had been one of conquest and fear, riding his steed across the realm, spreading terror and chaos at the behest of his dark lord Fatale, god of Death and Murder. But one fateful night, as the black moon stood high and a blood-red aura permeated the sky, multiple voices echoed through the dungeon he called home.
'Tobryck,' they beckoned, a sinister melody of voices twisted his insides. 'The time has come for you to chronicle the deeds of the forces of darkness. Their acts of malice must be documented, so that their tales may inspire dread in the hearts of our enemies.'
Tobryck smiled, his sharpened teeth protruding from his lower jaw. 'What must I do, my masters?' he growled, kneeling in the damp earth, his breath a fog in the cool night air.
'Seek out the dark knights, thieves, scoundrels, and practitioners of black magicks of the realm,' The sinister voices commanded. 'Record their victories, their betrayals, and their darkest secrets. Use the blood of your enemies as ink, and the bones of the fallen as parchment. Let no dark deed go unchronicled, for their legacy shall be the harbinger of the Infinite Night.' ?Record their deeds, Tobryck. Chronicle their darkness. Only through this will you find your own purpose.'
Deep within the bowels of the dungeon Tobryck finds his torture chamber. Here his victims gasp their last breaths. Here he would find the instruments and materials needed to construct his unholy book. Here he would find purpose.
An elf lay grimacing in pain, her body stretched on the rack. With a razor sharp knife he slowly cut away her skin, filleting her alive as her screams slowly fade away at her end. Tobryck's eyes widen as he smiles at his task completed. 'This shall make a nice cover and binding for my dark tome.', he says as he continues his work.
Three deep gnomes are positioned in large screw-like devices. Their immense heads held in place by presses. Tobryck smiles happily as he turns the screws. One by one each gnome has the press tightening upon their heads. Their voices echo throughout the dungeon as their screams become wails. Louder and louder until their heads crack and their brains spill out. 'These skulls shall be crushed into powder and pressed into paper.', he thought as he collected the broken gnome bones.
Tobryck ventures deeper into the dungeon, passing a stone arch with an hourglass carved into the top key stone. It opens into a massive chamber. The onyx walls stretch upwards and disappear into the darkness above. Within the mysterious shadows of this chamber dozens of bodies are strung up onto crosses. Upon these crucifixions, these symbols of death, bodies squirm and bellow in agony. They cling to life only because Tobryck wishes them to suffer. 'Ah yes...my vessels of 'ink'.', Tobryck lets out a maniacal laugh as he inserts needles into each body drawing their blood into an inkwell.
The ogre's eye light up, they glow in hues of black and red as he fashions his flesh bound tome. He dips his quill into the blood red ink and begins to write on the paper, white as bone. 'And now we begin....'
Voices can be heard muttering and laughing as Tobryck puts pen to pad embarking on his Nightmare Crusade...
Writer: Penelopina
Date Mon Sep 9 13:33:13 2024
To All Nordmaar Fionnha Hadleigh Faeryn Taliena
Subject Tossing the Bouquet!
{p'The bride throws the bouquet, and whomever catches it is blessed to be
the next one married! {p'
{pThat was the tradition, at least insofar as Penelopina Starflower Sha'aryas
had read. But it seemed {pthe new Nordmaarian couple were game, and in mere
moments, the beautiful bride Fionnha was calling {pfor All the single, unwed
ladies to gather around. Penny quickly joined them, as the menfolk gave
{pthem ample room.
{pShe smiled over at Hadleigh, the new priestess, so young and so keen to be
helpful, who was already {peager to get her hands on her aunties bouquet,
elbowing others out of the way as she jostled for {pposition. Fae-Fae was
also skipping over to join them, a bundle of anxious energy. Not so much
{pinterested in the prize but in the competition. A pity, since half her
family was determined to {psee her married off so she could settle down and
have her own brood of younglings. Other women {pmilled about, unsure of
exactly how this worked, excitement and trepidation mixing together {pfreely.
{pTurning her back to them, Fionnha held up the bouquet, the prize, and then
with a mighty fling, {ptossed it backwards over her shoulder. It sailed
through the air, narrowly missing the ceiling {pbefore it came down amongst
the single women.
{pIt was a mad, chaotic scramble.
{pJumping as high as she dared, Penny waved her arms broadly, both to grasp as
much air as possible {pand to try and bat away those of the women beside her.
Most of them were doing much the same {pthing. The bouquet bounced off of the
hands and heads of a few of them, nearly caught by Faeryn {pbefore someone
managed to knock it aside before a firm grip could be gained. It fell
towards {pPenny, but her scrambled to grab a hold only knocked it further
sideways, until it tumbled down {pinto the arms of Hadleigh. The highlander
lass grinned as she clutched the bouquet close and {pquickly jumped up and
down for joy with a huge grin on her face, yelling 'I got it! {p'
{pBegrudgingly, the other women quickly clapped and gave their congratulations
for Hadleigh, {pmixed in with some blessings for her future marriage.
Sweetly, she then returned this {pgood sportsmanship by sharing a flower from
the bouquet with each of the other women {pinvolved, sharing the blessings
with All of them.
{pIt brought a smile to Pennys face, and re-affirmed what she'd thought when
she'd first learned {pof this particular wedding tradition: it was a great
idea.
Writer: Thindyss
Date Wed Sep 11 13:55:02 2024
To All Conclave - Imm Admin Tritoch RP Cayenna Curumo
Subject Necromancy Research: Bone Storm.
The familiar smell of death and decay surrounded Thindyss as he glanced
towards the old frail dark elf making sketches of the cadavers, his long
black robes still growing mold. The two eyes met with familiarity and an
utter lack of disinterest, without a word from either of them Thindyss moved
towards the shelves lined with bones and preserved flesh. Pulling out a
large tome Thindyss began to flip the pages moving past sketches, notes,
diagrams, ripped-out pages, and blood until he got towards the end of the
book, he pulled out his quill setting the open book, quill, and ink on a
laboratory table behind him.
Hiking up the sleeves of his robe Thindyss began pulling down various bones
from the shelves and arranging them on the floor. Thindyss had already
conducted various experiments although he wasnt quite sure how to manifest
this into an actual spell. Sure, he had finished his book of Mastery but
before he sought Mastery of his next endeavor, he sought to consider ways to
enhance the art. His first goal was to make something more out of the power
of bone blight, the expense of the spell often did not justify its use but
even when it did it felt impossible to get much out of it. Right now, it
mostly serves as an overly expensive version of weaken, sure he could carry
around a club and Thindyss had even at times resorted to pummeling foes with
his fist, glad he had bothered to study the skill, but what was lacking was
another way to tap into the magick.
So far Thindyss had developed three uses each requiring the placement of
three parts on the floor, this seemed to be the magick number required to
create a stable environment for the body parts. Any three body parts could
be used and the spell would simply pummel the target with the bludgeon force
of the parts. The pinnacle of the research however came from the
application of three similar parts when utilizing three arms or legs of a
corpse the parts spinning and bouncing from target to target would create a
thousand small cuts making it increasingly difficult for them to stand and
fight and draining their capacity to travel for a small amount of time.
When three heads were placed on the floor and the spell was used the effects
of the hard heads battering the target had a chance to knock them to the
floor, or even unconscious, ending the fight for a brief moment. The last
use Thindyss found was when three sets of entrails or brains were used, the
mucus from the guts or brains in flight had a chance to be ingested by the
victim creating a unique poison that caused the focus of their mind to shift
to the toxin and their wisdom to be sapped for a short time.
Thindyss whipped the small tornado battering the walls around him wondering
how he could master this spell and employ it on the field. Currently, it
required a combination of spells to create the small tornado, control it
within the room, direct it towards targets to manage it so it did not just
fly away or throw anything from the room. Thindyss looked again over at the
dark-elf who was now glaring at him unamused at the mess he was creating.
Thindyss ignored him writing notes in his tome and pulling book after book
from the shelves hoping the answer to his dilemma was somewhere within.
What would this spell look like, perhaps similar to searing winds pummeling
targets in the room bouncing from one to the next needing targets to keep
the spell stable, or maybe similar to a blizzard an effect that would pummel
a singular target or multiple targets and follow them around. Thindyss
looked and dropped one book onto the ground grabbing another and flipping
through pages while writing in his tome, blood trickling down his arm and
smearing the pages. Thindyss muttered under his breath, All magick has
rules. This was not Thindyss only project and there was so much more
research to do, he collected his belongings and hurried out through the
shadowy forcefield and archway.
Writer: Craghyn
Date Wed Sep 11 15:00:42 2024
To All Wargar Cliath Raije Imms Bess Bessie
Subject Letters to a Lost Lass (1/2)
Bessie, me love,
Aye, I do sometimes rue the day I left ye. And I do rue the nights alike. But
what's done is done an we must be movin on. Oh I miss ye.
Twas no proper future for me in the sand mine, Bessie, ye know that. Aye, tis
true I come from a long line o sandies. An tis true that there be great honor
in sand work. But tis no for me. I feel a stirrin in me bones, Bessie. These
hands were not made for a shovel. And besides, Bessie, me anger o late. These
young ones do no respect the sands. It beonly a matter o time until they hurt
themselves or I help em do it.
Bess, manage me holdins in the mines. Keep the flow steady and smooth an the
size o the granules uniform as I taught ye. In the meantime, I shall miss ye.
I shall miss yer bushy beard, yer big, long, luxurious bushy beard, and the
smell o grog crusties in yer hair in tha morn. But I must be moving on past
this sand an these shovels an picks.
Think o me while ye gaze into yer cups and I shall do the same.
Craghyn
Writer: Craghyn
Date Wed Sep 11 15:01:37 2024
To All Wargar Cliath Raije Imms Bess Bessie
Subject Letters to a Lost Lass (2/2)
Bessie, me love,
How be the sand?! O Bess, ye should see the size of it here!
But I get ahead o meself. Last time I writ I had just left ye. I know, Bess, I
know ye miss me an me sandin life. What lass would no? And I miss ye. The lashes
that adorn yer cheeks and chin, soft and thick. I'll have a drink to em now.
I been fightin, Bess. Fightin with those who get good coin for it. I be well
suited to the work. Hah! I had thought meself a natural sandsman. No, this be a
better fit. Give me an axe instead of a shovel. Aye, make it two axes.
And ye should see the sand here, Bess! Far to the east there be a sea of it,
ripe for the taking. Perhaps we shall make our fortune atop the sand pile.
But not this day. For I've a new feeling of late. I feel a vibiratin in the
stone and a pull to the north. I've taken me leave o the company an shall
follow this where ere it go.
Forget me not, me sweet, Bushy B.
Craghyn
Writer: Malcomn
Date Wed Sep 11 22:52:46 2024
To All Nordmaar Cliath Imm Rp Tarabella
Subject (Againsed the Wall)
After the fights and escorting his family home he decided to take his
patrol on foot. Making his way to the northern most side of the wall moving
from shadow to shadow a trick taught to him by some of the best hunters in
the north. Barely making a sound he paused often to listen to the light
taps through the leaves alongside him in the forest. He stepped into the
moonlight to try and get a glimspe of a shadow moving and nothing shows. He
paused for a moment for a drink and a breath when out of the treeline
stepped three cloaked figures. Their faces completely covered and their
hoods over their eyes. His knife and tomahawk in hand the proud King was
not going to shy away. The figures drew blades of All shapes and sizes
started close in on him. Their wirey builds suggested they have been
scavenging the lands for some time. They closed in on him until his they
were within striking range. The King went to step into a swing when he
heard heavy steps and a thud. He looked up to see two Black Claymores
coming over the wall flying through the air blades drawn. The odds quickly
balanced out the Highlanders charged the cloaked figures and the fight was
on parrying and dodging the sounds of blades rang out through the forest.
The Highlanders driving the shadowed figures backwards still not able to
land a killing blow they knew they were againsed skilled killers. The
battle spilled back into the forest the moonlight fading into the darkness
of the trees the King swung his tomahawk feeling the slice of skin through
the handle he knew he had atleast injured one. A loud haunting whistle rang
out through the trees and almost like a master calling his dogs the shadows
turned springing off of the tree trunks back into the shadows. Backing
slowly back into the moonlight againsed the wall one of the Claymores
prepared a torch they walked back into the forest and was able to follow
some blood droplets back into the blackwood forest. The tracks were
strategically covered a few hundred yards in by the aftermath of the great
hunt the day before. Anger and frustration passing the Kings face he
sheaths his tomahawk and his knife taking a deep breath he summoned his
guards to follow him. He made his way back to the Highlands and to the
palace slamming the doors behind him in frustration. He walked into his
office hanging his weapon belt on a hook by the door. Across the room sat a
small statue of Cliath where he took a knee and went into prayer for answers
and peace and solutions.
Writer: Agarwood
Date Thu Sep 12 10:51:48 2024
To All Sebatis Drakkara Spirit ( Religion Imm )
Subject Hourglass Interviews (1/?)
"Seek knowledge of the Hourglasses when they took form throughout the lands at
the behest of the Darkness. You will learn a truth, if your mind is open to it."
{-The Mote of Spirit
Within the Hidden Academy of Magicks, an arboren sat on a bench beneath the
crown of a large magnolia tree. Basking in the light of the sun and the scents
of the magnolia flowers, he contemplated deeply.
At the direction of his god, Agarwood began gathering information on the point
in history when Darkness left behind time pieces across the land. Specifically,
in densely populated cities and select organizations waging war in the clans. It
was no surprise to the Priest that the cabals of evil were largely unwilling to
share what they knew about it- though he could not guess why. He began to wonder
if the Hourglasses might have symbolized a sort of shame instead of a triumph
in the Circle of Darkness. He found a willing source of information though. The
Priestess Lavinah volunteered what she knew to him.
Agarwood recalled Lavinah's hissing observations, "It wass during thesse trialss
that many failed and ssome did find favour, yess? The countesss of Abadon wass
sslain for failure, the Cracklesspark kenderkin earned the Misstresss's favour
and the mark upon her forehead which sshe sstill bearss."
He learned that the Hourglasses bore marks that resemble the phases of the moons,
but not just in black. Red moon phrases were also present, sometimes alongside
the black markings. The nebulousness of these cryptographic representations were
unsettling to Agarwood, since the implication seems to suggest that the Balance
may have had a role to play in this. The more markings upon the Hourglasses, the
more the kingdom and clan was proving themselves in the eyes of Darkness, but why
involve the Circle of Balance?
The Priest shifted his weight on the seat and emitted a trouble grunt. What was
the Young Master's place during that dark tribunal and test?
Writer: Gaudin
Date Thu Sep 12 11:04:07 2024
Writer: Gaudin
Date Thu Sep 12 15:38:23 2024
Writer: Archal
Date Thu Sep 12 17:20:02 2024
To Drakkara Shadow Verminasia Symantha Telthian Altacas Raphiel All ( Imm Religion RP )
Subject The Unity Imperative (II)
A few days now returned, the High Mystic bore freshly healed wounds from
battle. His first fight upon reappearance had been a humbling one, though
not a surprise. The Overlord of Greystoke had sent notice of a place and
time for ambush. Not a ready ally for any number of reasons, the one named
in the report precluded any reluctance on Archal's part, nor was he reticent
with Altacas. "I will approach from the east."
Now, in the Dark Oculus, the High Mystic contemplated the way forward. A
spear lay to his side, but his interest was above, through the lens. In a
region of black sky, the lens revealed thousands of tiny points of light,
and a glowing cloud of colour. What faint and intricate truths can be seen
in the black, when you have focus, and are not blinded by the light of the
daytime sun.
Blinded by the sun. A few days ago, again. Along the road, Archal glanced
down at the name scrawled in cat-scratch on the parchment. Raphiel.
Commander of Heaven's Host. Archangel. He lowered his visor as he
approached. Called to the darkness, to swallow the Archangel, and charged
with leveled lance at the beastly creature of light. The sun burst from the
angel's hand, not once, not twice, but in steady pulses. Burning out his
eyes and flesh. Blinded, hurt, somewhere along the lines his felbeast
killed, purged by the blinding light of Raphiel's sun.
Blinking away the painful memory and still looking into the black above,
Archal reached for the spear at his side. He had come here to contemplate
his purpose. Unifying Algoron in darkness. It seems a daunting task, when
one peers too deeply at it. How many thousands, tens of thousands -
hundreds? Millions? Would the light array to stand in their way? How
overwhelming the slaughter, if the path to unity lay in snuffing out each
point of light. But above him, thousands of points of light retreated into
inky blackness, when Archal moved his eye away from the lens. This patch of
sky, which would be blindingly bright in the day, its thousands of points of
light reduced to darkness.
He made it home, against the Archangel Raphiel, just barely. The Overlord
did the same, by All accounts. Another word from Altacas. "The draining
spear is required." Now, Archal turned his head to the spear in his hand.
Focused. The spear glowed blue. Focused again, more blue. He exhaled
slowly, focused, and the spear took on an unholy glow.
To bathe a thousand points of light in darkness, one did not need to snuff
out each. It is enough to destroy the nearest, brightest source of light.
Writer: Thindyss
Date Fri Sep 13 11:56:23 2024
To All Conclave - Imm Admin Tritoch RP Cayenna Curumo Rhien
Subject Necromancy Research: Black Curse.
Thindyss had spent so much time studying and researching his art that the
room's smell of death and decay was more than just familiar, it was home.
Crumpled-up papers lay about him littering the floor his hands tugging on
his hair in frustration. Why was this so difficult, Thindyss thought to
himself, his tome lay open on a familiar empty laboratory table. Looking at
a small ink spill on the table, he thought how stained the table would be if
it was not a laboratory table. The coldness of the table offered him a
moment of calm in his frustration, it was not always about solving the
problem, sometimes the most you could do was answer the question and hope
the Gods saw it favorable to connect, alter, or erase the threads of magick
that bound it to the Gods laws.
Thindyss grabbed a pile of papers from the floor and with an incantation
burned them in his hands, better. Flipping through the tome Thindyss
studied his notes, drawings, and thoughts, he had already found ways around
the limitations that the black curse spell placed upon healing, he knew the
laws that controlled the limitations and abilities of teleport, All that
remain is weaving a block against that magick into what already existed.
Scribbling within the tome he wrote, within the gaps that permit healing
weave in a block to teleport. Solution: Alter Black Curse to recognize the
target as in combat for its duration.
Thindyss thought back to his studies as a mentalist, it did not take him
long to understand the laws that governed beguiling, before the laws of the
magicks were altered it was simple the spell first could tell if the power
of the magick cast was equal or surpassing the intended target, if it was
less, the spell would always fail. Next, it would factor the intellect of
the spell caster against the target's wisdom then resistance to magicks and
any vulnerabilities or resistances to magicks. This formula was simple
enough where it was once complicated was after beguiled creatures the spell
quickly acted in diminishing returns, even a pixie would have trouble
binding more than 8 or ten creatures to itself. Thindyss however had found
a workaround, with the spell of haze and the drastic reduction of a target
wisdom it was possible to bind more than fifteen targets with charm. For
whatever reason the Gods did not intend a simple mage to have so much power
and they reformed those laws. Changing the laws of magick was child play
for the Gods but without making a reason, without doing the research, and
without identifying the gaps within the laws they would always remain as
they were.
Thindyss desired to finish this research, to at least give a reason, whether
the gods would answer or see it worthy of their time was for them to decide.
Closing his tome satisfied he had at the very least found a solution
Thindyss collected his belongings placed them down and lay on the table,
there was no point in leaving there was still much work to bet done.
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Fri Sep 13 12:48:40 2024
To Nordmaar Fionnah Raphiel ( Imm Rp All )
Subject Wearboar Terror Pt 1
Hadleigh sat in the library, the dim light of the candle flickering as
she pored over ancient tomes and scrolls. Her aunt's recent attack had left
her with a mysterious curse, and Hadleigh was determined to find a way to
trap the creature responsiblea wearboar. Theory was it could possibly be a
rare and dangerous variant of the more commonly known werewolf.
The wearboar was a formidable foe, known for its brute strength and
ferocity. Unlike werewolves, wearboars could shift between three forms: a
human, a boar, and a terrifying hybrid of the two. Hadleigh had read that
their tusks were particularly dangerous, capable of transmitting the curse
with a single goring.
Hadleigh's research led her to an old, dusty book titled "Lycanthropy and
Its Variants." She carefully turned the pages, her eyes scanning for any
mention of wearboars. Finally, she found a section that detailed their
habits and weaknesses. Wearboars, it seemed, were most vulnerable during
the full moon when their transformations were at their peak.
She learned that wearboars had a keen sense of smell and were highly
territorial. This gave her an idea. She would need to create a trap that
could lure the wearboar into a confined space where it could be contained.
The book suggested using a mixture of herbs and a special kind of bait that
wearboars found irresistibletruffles.
As she delved deeper into her research, Hadleigh found herself praying to
Austinian. She whispered prayers for insight and protection, hoping for a
sign that she was on the right path. The long night of study and worry
began to take a toll. She found herself awake until dawn, her eyes heavy
with exhaustion, yet unable to rest until she had found a solution.
The next day became a blur of fatigue and determination. She ventured into
the forest, carefully digging up truffles and collecting herbs known for
their strong, enticing scents. She also began drawing up plans to craft a
sturdy cage reinforced with silver, a metal known to weaken lycanthropes.
Despite her exhaustion, Hadleigh's resolve did not waver. She knew that
capturing the wearboar was only the first step. They needed to find a way
to lift the curse from her aunt and the others. But for now, she focused on
her research and planning, driven by the hope that she could help save her
family and the others by putting an end to the wearboar's reign of terror.
Writer: Fionnha
Date Fri Sep 13 21:33:22 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Fri Sep 13 21:38:28 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Fri Sep 13 21:43:09 2024
Writer: Vyasa
Date Fri Sep 13 23:44:13 2024
Writer: Malcomn
Date Sat Sep 14 00:45:29 2024
Writer: Fionnha
Date Sun Sep 15 01:35:21 2024
To All Imm ( Were-Curse RP )
Subject Marked by the Beast (I)
The soft glow of candlelight flickered across the stone walls of the
shrine to Cliath, casting long, dancing shadows against its marble walls.
Fionnha sat next to Hadleigh as the pair discussed blueprints for a merchant
shop. But even in this tranquil place, Fionnha's mind was anything but
calm. Her thoughts were consumed by the recent events.
It had been two days since the battle in Arkane, two days since the vicious
werepig had torn through the city, leaving a path of destruction in its
wake. The call for aid had come from Commander Agu, whose city was in
chaos. Citizens lay wounded or dead, unable to escape the rampaging
werebeast, and Agu himself had taken up arms in defense of the city.
Malcomn answered immediately, and Fionnha followed without hesitation.
She could still hear the screams of the citizens, the clashing of metal, and
the awful squeal of the werepig as it tore through Arkane's streets.
Commander Agu had fought valiantly, but when the beast's tusks ripped into
his arm, it was Malcomn and Fionnha who had taken up the charge. Malcomns
powerful charger moved quickly across the cobblestones, his dreadwood pike
striking the werebeast again and again with precision, while Fionnha,
astride her pegasus, lashed at the creature with her arcanium chain whip,
her skaldic chants wove healing songs around the wounded and fortified their
defenses.
But nothing had prepared her for the moment the creature lunged toward her
with its maddened, squealing rage. Its tusks pierced effortlessly through
the leather of her boot and sank deep into her left calf. But when she
opened her mouth to scream, no sound came. The shock left her silent, her
voice stolen even as the agony coursed through her leg. In an instant, the
werepig had retreated, smashing through a window to escape.
"West gate! " Agu's voice carried over the city walls as they gave chase,
but the boar had already fled beyond Arkanes borders. And then... Her leg
went numb.
Writer: Fionnha
Date Sun Sep 15 01:38:17 2024
To All Imm ( Were-Curse RP )
Subject Marked by the Beast (II)
On Malcomn's instruction, Fionnha dismounted from her pegasus in the
narrow alley, her body nearly crumpling as her leg, bleeding and useless,
gave way beneath her. Her flesh was gored, the wound angry and already
festering, and she could hardly stand.
As she settled into a seated position, her world swam in a haze of muffled
voices and blurred movement. Hadleigh did her best to assist, while Bishop
Thuken, in his usual half-serious, half-jesting manner, suggested they
sacrifice Fionnha to Cliath on the spot. But it was the angel Raphiel who
had descended with an ethereal calm, his wings glowing with a radiance that
seemed out of place in the bloodstained alley.
He had knelt before her, his hand raised, alight with eternal holy fire.
"This will sting, but thou wilt be better for it. " he had said, his voice
deep and otherworldly.
She remembered the initial, instinctive recoil away from Raphiel in fear of
more pain. Malcomn was nearby, stitching Agu's wounds, but All Fionnha
could focus on was the angel's hand, glowing with holy flame.
When Raphiel grasped tightly at her wound, his hand flared with impossibly
bright light, casting long shadows from anyone standing and causing those
nearby to shield their eyes.
She hissed through clenched teeth, her brogue thick with choice expletives
she could barely contain. The fire of the angel burned through the gored
wound, sealing her flesh together and staunching the blood. The worst of
the pain had vanished, but two puncture marks remained, dark, ragged holes
where skin puckered and blistered.
Writer: Fionnha
Date Sun Sep 15 01:49:32 2024
To All Imm ( Were-Curse RP )
Subject Marked by the Beast (III)
The angel's voice had rung in her ears. "Thou art healed bodily, but the
were-curse is upon thee now. "
The what?
"I lack the power to shift it or remove it. " His somber words had echoed
in the alleyway. "Thou wilt turn. "
"Tu- tu what? " she had asked, fear knotting her stomach.
"We knowest not, " the angel had continued. "If the beast is slain, the one
that cursed thee, the curse might--"
"Auntea!? " Hadleigh's voice cut through the haze of her thoughts, sharp,
impatient, and irritated for having to repeat herself.
Fionnha blinked, arriving suddenly back at the present. The dim light of
the shrine room flickered, and Hadleigh stood in the doorway, her expression
filled with worry.
"Why yea dinea ansa mea? "
For a moment, Fionnha could only stare, disoriented by the abrupt return to
reality. Everything had happened so fast - the attack, the curse, the
insatiable hunger, and now, the primal rage brimming just below the surface.
"I bae sorry, lass, " Fionnha said finally, her voice wrought with fatigue.
"I wos lost en thought. "
Writer: Vyasa
Date Sun Sep 15 14:02:53 2024
Writer: Asreel
Date Sun Sep 15 15:55:54 2024
To Abaddon All ( IMM RP Fatale Xenophon )
Subject An Unexpected Betrayal
"Right away, I will send word."
Asreel took in the situation as he was informed of the wild goose chase that
was set on by the Elders. He met with a small cadre of individuals that
planned, prepared and set forth a chain of events that was without the
approval of the Count. He has begun the process... He will see that
Abaddon will be restored to its greatness.
He pulled out a parchment and wrote a quick word on it, that simply
instructed the reader, "Find them, and report back". In case the messenger
was intercepted, there will be no context to his missive. He returned to
his home, and looked out upon the kingdom and bowed his head in prayer, "For
your will".
He send word to the various kingdoms, and clans that have aided the
Bloodlands in its history. Written on them were dialogues that were
continued from in person conversations.
He wrote one more letter, but did not send it out quite yet. He put it in
his desk and prepared it to be sent once certain conditions were met. He
appreciated the vote of confidence from the Miete family, and others. It
allowed him to feel connected to the kingdom and to the greater Dark
Pantheon.
He has the will to carry out this plan. He must continue...
Writer: Gaudin
Date Mon Sep 16 16:54:22 2024
Writer: Aodhen
Date Mon Sep 16 17:25:21 2024
Writer: Piknim
Date Mon Sep 16 18:10:00 2024
To Verminasia Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Arkane Abaddon Shadow All ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject In the Shadow of War: Deployment
"Which set of maps should we use? Finnegan Furrfoot's Fantastic Finds or
the Complete Baliforian Atlas of Really Neat Stuff: Volume II," Piknim
asked, prompting a cadre of junior officers to stop packing up War Room
accouterments and stare in unison, not one of them overly inclined to weigh
in on the matter. She held up the afore-mentioned volumes, one in each
hand, for emphasis.
"I assumed we would use the royal cartographer's annotated topographical map
of Arkania," General Velandris ventured, gesturing to an enormous stategical
map dominating the War Room's western wall.
Piknim's expression drooped into a pout. She flipped to an earmarked page
in Finnegan Furrfoot's Fantastic Finds and indicated a small red dot on the
page with a tap of her finger. "If the royal cartographer is so great, why
did he fail to include Finnegan's second favorite peach orchard on his map?
Hmm? Why's that?"
Velandris leaned in to inspect the point of interest in question, remaining
poised despite having been put on the spot by Verminasia's diminutive
Advisor. "The peach orchard falls well outside our avenue of approach," he
noted with a hint of false chagrin.
The Advisor's displeasure only deepened at this revelation. She marched up
to a tall dreadwood chair against the western wall, climbed onto the seat,
and circled the peach orchard with a charcoal pen. "We'll provision there
on our way back then," Piknim announced decisively.
* * * * * * * * * *
A military deployment encompassed countless moving parts, small tasks, and
lesser priorities, but the Verminasian Royal Army placed one objective above
all - ensuring the safety of its siege engines. In All likelihood, Marauder
and Chaos elements large enough to threaten Verminasia's movement would not
be found in Arkanian territory. That left few vulnerabilities to consider
and counter, chief among them a dragon-strike from the air or sabotage from
within.
And so, Piknim patrolled the skies above Verminasia's vanguard upon an
ancient black dragon, Viszathyk the Gilded Dread - a rapacious dreadnaught
of rippling muscle beneath an iron-clad coat of jet-black scale, with teeth
like gleaming scimitars, talons like reaping scythes, and enormous webbed
wings that commanded the wind like dark sails of living canvas. All the
while the Darkfinder chattered incessantly, discussing plans, detailing
schemes, and extolling the strategic importance of peach orchards with
regard to unit morale and logistics. Viszathyk, to his immense credit,
listened at length without executing a barrel roll and shedding his bantam
rider as though she were a common pest.
As they neared Arkane, Piknim descended into a brief period of rare silence
and reflected upon yet another moment a long life so fantastical as to seem
surreal. She wondered whether it was real - if she was, in fact, the
luckiest kender in All of Algoron, or if it were All the lucid dream of a
hapless creature. If it wasn't a dream, she owed her fortunes to Drakkara,
owed anything and everything that could be given in return - to go forth
fearlessly, live a grand adventure, and spark a dark flame in any who bore
witness to her story.
The black Firstborne and his warder cast a formidable shadow as they wheeled
with draconic grace and glided low over Arkane. Piknim looked for Queen
Nereza, Duke Zaccur, and Commander Agu; for her kender-friends, Paliver,
Lamfinas, and Darby; but from on high the people of Arkane looked the same,
like so many ants skittering about. A line of sentries on the battlements
raised their polearms in recognition, prompting Viszathyk to issue a roar
that carried into the distance. Verminasian troops bearing gilded pennants
of black, red, and purple crested the northern hills, silhouetted against
the sun as they skirted Arkane to meet the road south.
The Alliance would soon be joined in flesh and steel - rather than mere ink
and parchment.
Writer: Carmyne
Date Tue Sep 17 10:46:41 2024
To All Kwainin (Imm Immortal RP)
Subject Cleaning House, Part one
A chill swept through Carmynes entire being, and a brilliant red flashed
through her eyes before they snapped open. The room remained dimly lit from
the smoldering coals of a lingering fire in the hearth. Pulling on her
nightgown as she slipped out of bed, she peered through the paned windows at
the moons above.
Barely an hour of sleep. That couldnt be right. And here she was, wide
awake. Again.
She tended the fire to bring it back to life, then quietly paced the room
while keeping watch on her sleeping husband. Part of her longed to slip
back beneath the covers to leach the warmth that welcomed her there, but she
knew she was too restless for that.
While many thoughts plagued her, one took precedence at the moment. The
memory of fervent prayer, and the answering red moon.
Lord Kwainin.
It had been years since she had truly felt her Lords presence. After a dry
spell of trying to speak to him, shed begun praying again. And for some
time it had been much of the same as before: an answer of quiet...
Emptiness... Nothing.
But the red moons brilliance during a moment of beseeching her Lord must
mean something. Everything inside her told her it was finally an answer she
continually prayed for. But what, exactly, was He telling her? Was she on
the right, most balanced path? Was Lord Kwainin pleased with her direction?
After readying herself for the days work ahead, Carmyne penned a few
letters, dispatching each, and leaving one with her husband.
She stepped out into the cool morning, much of the city still sleeping warm
in their beds. This was honestly her favorite time of day, in its usual
stillness and quiet. The city guards nodded and bowed as she traversed the
streets. The shops werent even open yet, so Carmyne rifled through
donations, unsure of what she was even looking for until she found it.
With dawn still hours away, Carmyne entered Althania accompanied by a couple
of guards. She paused outside the destroyed temple to look up at her red
moon, currently full and shining.
"Hello, my Lord Kwainin, " she whispered as she entered the broken temple.
The rubble crunched beneath her feet with each step.
Guards shone lights around so she could clearly see. Carmyne shivered, as
if shed brought the chilled air of home onto an entirely different
continent. Its just the slight fever, she reminded herself, remembering
Gaudins assessment.
Carmyne set down a basket and withdrew heavy gloves to slip onto her hands.
She neared the broken statue, her eyes narrowed with intent.
"You, my Lord, and this place, are not forgotten, " she asserted.
And with that, she began to move rubble and debris into piles, piece by
piece. The guards were quick to assist with anything too heavy for her to
lift. But, for the most part, she waved them off, insistent upon doing it
herself.
It was a heavy task before her, and she would have to do it in stages given
her condition, but Carmyne was sure now, more than ever, that she was on the
right path in this endeavor. In fact, the moons, and her God, demanded it
of her.
Writer: Archal
Date Wed Sep 18 15:09:00 2024
To Telthian Symantha Vyasa Gladrim Kaizlark Piknim Altacas Drakkara Abaddon Shadow Slayers Drakkara All ( Imm Storyline RP )
Subject The Unity Imperative (III) - Operations
Okay, maybe one more, the Gray Robes attendant thought aloud, straining
to maintain her grip on the ladder and reach a volume she'd just noticed.
Her tongue stuck out slightly as she focused with outstretched hand, but the
book did not come - no telekinesis, yet. One day, she huffed to herself,
and scooched awkwardly down the line of polished wooden shelves.
In the dark recess of the southwestern corner of the room, the door to the
Chamber of Mysticism opened itself. The swish of air whispered her name,
and a tingle went down her spine, starting from the base of her skull. She
was summoned.
With smooth, economic movements that wasted no time nor effort, she
descended the ladder, deposited her left-armful of books onto a library
table, and entered the doorway, coming to salute. Sir!
The High Mystic was facing three-quarters away from the door, studying a
glass panel map of Algoron near the center of the expansive room. Without
turning, he beckoned her forward, into the room. As she approached, she
began to resolve details on the map - wax markings and notes.
In the quiet of the shadowy chamber, she did not move quickly, but
approached with slow, curious steps. Even as she felt drawn in, so was her
attention to the map. A red waxen circle around Abaddon, three points
scrawled beside that she could not quite make out. A yellow circle south of
Althainia, Greystoke Manor, she'd bet a silver. She wasn't a high roller,
and a silver was her limit, but she wasn't afraid to splash out some copper
on a whim. That one, with an arrow towards Abaddon and a question mark she
could clearly see.
A white wax circle, broad and hastily drawn so that the ends did not
overlap, around the Cross Roads east of Althainia. RAPHIEL written boldly
here, and underlined in another hasty scrawl. A series of brown circles
across the map that she recognized as wereboar attacks.
The wereboar bored into the Dungeon, the High Mystic intoned without
emotion, circling a spot a short journey east of Arkane. Continue your
zoanthropic inquiries. But first, prepare a surgical kit, and find me a
necromantic manual on the grafting of flesh.
She bit back the questions that jumped to mind. Yes, High Mystic, she said
in a hushed tone, some instinct telling her, now that she was deep within
the chamber, not to speak loudly, as if some atavistic part of her mind
sensed a primal foe in the dark. As if to reward her fear, a shadow seemed
to pass over one of the luminescent symbols borne by the black marble walls.
Archal turned his head to her, perhaps sensing her hesitation, and added,
Send them along to the delegation headquarters in Abaddon. I have a client
to debrief. Client. He said it with such calm, so matter-of-factly, that
she took a beat to realize what he meant. The High Mystic always called
them clients, and her pulse caught up with her thoughts - would she get to
join him? Would he pick- once again, as if responding to her thoughts,
Archal added, In fact, bring them yourself. Abaddon has a serviceable
library. Perhaps you can find..
He turned back to the map as he trailed off, his right hand gesturing to
fill the void of his unspoken thoughts. Sir, she said with finality,
recognizing her dismissal. She retreated from the Chamber of Mysticism with
more spring than her steps inside, some combination of elemental fear, and
excitement.
She imagined the different forms this interrogation might take, humming a
happy tune, and summoned a travel chest to pack.
Writer: Aescyprium
Date Wed Sep 18 23:09:38 2024
To All Taliena Imm Religion RP
Subject {oReady or Not, Here we Grow
The dragon, for in this story is copper, stretched out length and wing upon
the sunny beach as dragons typically do when soaking up the warmth of the
sun. Before his snout was a small sproutling of a banana tree, surrounded
by gifts from previous visitors. Guard duty, as the Copper had decided, was
not so bad. His large form kept away unwanted visitors to the site, though
he was not unsure for how long that would last. He also decided that being
at peace while watching over the little sproutling, was idea for coming up
with more stories to place within his great book, or perhaps even a new
recipe or two.
{oYes, he said to himself, for he was the only one there besides the
sproutling, {o I think that it'll do us both some good to create a new story.
One where you, my Tropican friend, will be the main character.
The sproutling said nothing, of course, but in the breeze it could have
nodded in agreeance.
And so the Copper laid there and tended to the sproutling in the form of
company, musing over the how's and why's of the newest story in his repetoir
to the future star of said story. He assumed that the sproutling did not
mind not having a speaking part, but unless you were an arboren or a treant,
sproutlings did not tend to speak anyways.
As the sun lowered over the horizon the Copper pulled his wings in close,
shaking them to dislodge any sand that had blown onto them, and slowly
curled up around the sproutling while he said a small prayer to the goddess
of Love and Compassion to keep it safe. It had been a long day coming up
with the story. Lots of ideas that seemd to float like the flotsom of the
ocean came and went like the tide. Though he was proud of what had come
from the hard work, he was both hungry and tired and his hazel eyes spotted
off the coast what could be considered dinner for his flight back to his
lair.
All in all, it seemed like it was a good day to be both a dragon and a
sproutling.
Writer: Avelyne
Date Thu Sep 19 12:04:04 2024
To All Verminasia
Subject A busy week
Avelyne, the former and most recent Scholarch of Verminasia, did not mind
working. In fact, after her retirement from the Black Robes and later from
Abaddon, she had more projects in her tower than she ever did in her
official capacity as an Archmagus or Wizardess. Research into forbidden
curses, splicing together parts from various creatures to create unholy
monstrosities (though she never was able to successfully splice an
alligator's head onto a bipedal creature... Cursed lizards and their rigid
necks!) Or simply scouring the heavens for signs from celestial objects
kept her quite contented at home.
It was another matter entirely to be tasked with work from others who
required her expertise, and this often left her feeling drained. And it all
seemed to pile up at once.
Case in point, when she reluctantly accepted the offer of Scholarch from the
Advisor (who despite, or perhaps because of her enthusiasm, was unexpectedly
skilled at manipulating Avelyne's greatest weakness- flattery) she had
anticipated something casual. Cleaning up the old guild manual, holding the
occasional class on magical theory.
Of course, the moment she begins working on the manual re-write, they are
preparing for an invasion, with several projects for the war effort piled
into her lap. And to top it All off, a Werepig of All things was
terrorizing the city. It never rains, but it pours.
{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-*{-
Several sleepless nights later, things seemed to be better in hand. The
Werebeast had been confronted in the city streets, and the guard had been
informed on what to look for (after a few false alarms involving pig
farmers). Its weakness had been discovered, and efforts were being made to
outfit the city guard with brass knives and spears. Bodies had been exhumed
from the Mired Banks and nearby Viscid Muck to be converted into an undead
army- or at least, an undead regiment. Her Magi and Apprentices had been
tasked with learning how to control them, and several blacksmiths had been
paid for cheap and quick armor plating to give them a modicum of protection.
The Academy had been renamed, reorganized, and filled with eager new
recruits. The manual had been rewritten and was in the process of being
printed and distributed.
It had been a busy week, but her goals thus far had been met. But this was
no time to relax, as much as Avelyne would have liked to return to her
laboratory and filled her afternoons with idle experimentation. There was
much on the horizon, and much still to be done.
She had work to do.
Writer: Lavinah
Date Fri Sep 20 11:38:19 2024
To All ( dragoth piknim religion immortal storyline )
Subject A Dance of Requital: I
There was a cool breeze today - one of the few things she missed about
her time serving under Valdalerion in the Fort - the weather there was
lovely.
She would sit, where she sat now, on a hill overlooking the Fort itself, a
few miles away. Here, with the water and forest surrounding her view, it
made Ironclad seem out of place. But on a winter's morning, with a soft
snowfall, it was one of the more settling views she's found on Algoron.
It was decades ago, of course, her enlistment. And now, the Mother's rage
and a siege of grand proportions against the Fort for their foolish foray
into the embrace of the godson, her memory stirred and her eye twitched at
the memories of her service there.
She still despised it with every fiber, every breath. The gifts in her arm
stirred at the thought. If Lavinah had anything, it was a long memory of
those who had offended her.
And, for certain, the greatest offense to her was from that weak and
pathetic man and the idiocy of that army. He was, of course, just one in a
long lineage of mostly inept leaders - and this only stirred her thoughts,
and her arm, more. It was time for the Marauders to end, as All things do,
to begin anew.
And so His will would be served. Lavinah knew what she must do, and it
started with whittling, her hands working easily while watching the storms
batter the Fort, working a single board from the kenderkin into a short,
quite sharp, two pointed stick.
And, as she remembered, the weather was still quite lovely.
Writer: Orutix
Date Mon Sep 23 13:23:42 2024
To All Bloodlust ( Imm RP Drakkara )
Subject Feed the {uDream - Ichor and Gore (I) of (II)
Orutix lay in the depths of his stone chamber, a cold sweat clinging to
his blue, cracked skin. His breathing was shallow, labored. The deep gnome
warlords eyes darted beneath his heavy lids, pulled into yet another
nightmare. This one was different. The curse of the lycanthropic bite from
the foul creature known as the were-boar twisted his already tormented soul
into something far darker. His dreams, once a reflection of pain and
suffering, a language of the Deep Gnomes and their normal anguish, had grown
wilder, more bloodthirsty, as though the madness of the beast inside him was
gnawing at the last remnants of his sanity.
The vision began like the others, a darkened void, a cave lit by the dim
glow of crimson veins running through the walls, pulsing like a dying heart.
In the distance, a sickly, bone chilling howl echoed through the empty air,
its sound clawing at Orutixs mind like nails scraping against stone.
He saw himself stalking through the dark, his gait slow but purposeful, the
smell of blood thick in the air. Each footstep echoed in the silence, but
he was not alone. He could hear the sound of gnashing teeth, drooling jaws,
just beyond the edges of his perception. The beast within was restless,
hungering for slaughter.
Suddenly, the cave opened into a grand chamber. At its center, upon a
jagged pedestal, sat the artifacta jagged black crystal, its surface
gleaming with a sickening, oily sheen. Orutix recognized it immediately.
In the last dream, when he had first seen it, he had felt only awe. But
now, there was a new sensation. Fear. Fear and something darker, a
ravenous need to consume. His lycan curse twisted the sacred artifact in
his vision, warping its shape, making it pulse with malevolent hunger, as if
it called not for worship, but for blood.
Writer: Orutix
Date Mon Sep 23 13:29:58 2024
To All Bloodlust ( Imm RP Drakkara )
Subject Feed the {uDream - Ichor and Gore (II) of (II)
As he stepped toward the artificat in his dream, the air grew thicker, as
if a fog of death. His hands shook as they reached out, claws extending
from his fingers, the urge to rend and tear overtaking his body. Bloodlust
surged through him as it always did, but this time, it felt uncontrollable,
unlike his normal dreams.
Before his fingers could brush the artifact, a mist materialized before him,
from the very depths of the crystal, eyes burning like molten iron, and a
voice speaking on curled tendril lips twisting into a smile that sent a
chill down his spine.
"Orutix, " the voice whispered, the fmale voice a slow and purposeful hiss.
"You seek power. You seek my gift. But know this, your curse has not gone
unnoticed. The beast within you thirsts for more than blood. It craves the
end. It craves chaos, even beyond your understanding. "
The words echoed in his mind, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts, twisting
them further. The beast snarled, clawing against the chains of his will.
"I cannot let it take you. Not yet. You have a greater destiny to fulfill.
"
In a heartbeat, the vision turned. The chamber was gone, and Orutix was in
a forest of dark trees, the moon hanging low, crimson, reflecting the rage
inside him. He was running on All fours, his muscles burning as his limbs
contorted. He felt the flesh rip, the bones crack, and then he was the
beastno longer a gnome, but a creature of nightmares. His fangs sank into
fleshhuman, dwarf, elf, it didn't matter. Blood filled his mouth, hot and
metallic. The dream was saturated with the sound of tearing, screaming, and
the endless wail of the hunt.
And always, the voice of what he presumed was his Mistress, in the back of
his mind, whispering promises of power, taunting him with his own weakness.
Orutix awoke, his heart pounding in his chest, his claws sunk deep into his
stone bed. Blood dripped from his lip where he'd bitten through in the
madness of the dream. His body trembled, the beast still raging, still
hungry.
One day, he would claim his power. But tonight, as the bloodlust surged
once more, Orutix wondered if he could control the beast long enough to
survive.
Writer: Fionnha
Date Tue Sep 24 01:34:09 2024
To All ( Imm RP )
Subject Marked by the Beast (IV)
The Bishop's words, though cordial in meaning, were sharp and rhythmic in
the dwarven tongue. To Fionnha's ears, accustomed to the smooth flow of the
common tongue, they sounded jarring, full of deep, throaty consonants and
hard, abrupt stops. It was as if each word was a chisel blow to stone.
"I spoke with Madame Miri again today." Bishop Thuken began, his voice
carrying that ever-present authority.
"Aye?" Fionnha asked, raising an eyebrow. "Wot'd she have tu say?"
She knew better than to interrupt when a dwarf was talking business.
"We are to gather and trap the werepig in six days. So I need to place an
order for as much brass as you can give me." Thuken's face remained stony,
not a flicker of doubt in his eyes.
Fionnha considered this for a moment. "Aye, I alweas stay stocked weth
copper ore. I joos need tu mine tha zinc, and then I'll bae able tu smelt
as manae brass bars as yeu need."
"Just send an invoice when you deliver it to the mountain, and I will see it
paid in full for your work." He assured her.
She waved her friend off, "I dinnae need tu bae compensated for this,
Bishop. I bae happy tu provide tha materials and anaethin' else yeu need."
"Well..." Thuken hesitated. "We also need bait."
"Bait!?" Fionnha's eyes widened. "Wot're wea usin' as bait?"
Thuken let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "It will likely be me."
Fionnha couldn't help but snort at the absurdity of it all. "Yeu bae warm
and fleshy?" She teased, recalling Madame Miri's cryptic warning. The
werepig could be found where there was warm flesh.
Writer: Fionnha
Date Tue Sep 24 01:38:17 2024
To All ( Imm RP )
Subject Marked by the Beast (V)
"That is the plan, yes," Thuken replied with a straight face. "She
originally insinuated using Higgins as bait, and I will not put my people in
harm's way."
The Bishop's words were like iron nails hammered into stone, unyielding and
final.
"Yeu bae a verra brave man, Bishop." Fionnha said, her tone sincere now.
It is my sworn duty to protect creation.
Fionnha lowered her head slightly in respect. "I hope Cliath bae proud o'
yeur sacrifice and servide tu Him."
Thuken met her gaze, his eyes gleaming like freshly polished steel. "I can
only hope that we can protect the gifts the Lord has provided."
Fionnha frowned slightly, her thoughts wandering back to Madame Miri's
strange words. "I admit that I question Madame Miri's claim that brass bae
tha bane o' tha werepig, as I wos wearin' a brass charm on my wrist." She
glanced at the small charm, a gift from her husband in the early days of
their courtship. It had brought her comfort, but never protection.
She knitted her brow as her thoughts shifted to All she knew of metallurgy
and her craft. Why brass? The logic escaped her. Brass was a common
enough metal, used for things like locks and hinges, even musical
instruments like horns and bells. But weapons that weren't brass knuckles
or lugshots? Unheard of. Brass edges dulled quickly, and in combat, where
strength and sharpness were essential, brass simply didn't make sense.
She twisted the brass charm on her wrist absently. If brass truly repelled
the werepig, she thought, then why hadn't it worked before? The creature
had come for her, charm or no charm. Maybe if she'd worn it on her ankle
instead, things would've played out differently.
"I'm nae sure that I trust Madame Miri" Fionnha muttered under her breath.
The truth was, and no matter how much her gut told her something was off,
they would have to follow through.
Thuken gave her a solemn nod, as if reading her thoughts. "We don't have
any other options" he said, his voice low and measured.
No, Fionnha thought, we don't.
Writer: Agarwood
Date Tue Sep 24 11:55:59 2024
To All Taliena Sebatis ( Religion Imm )
Subject Ready or Not, Here We Grow --- Agarwood's Contribution
At the request of the Priestess Penelopina, Agarwood walked along the beach
leading southeast from Tropica's port. While the arboren was not a fan of the
difficult nature sand has as one walks through it, he enjoyed the sound of the
waves gently lapping against the shore. After an hour of listening to the gulls
cry and the sound of sea water seeping through the sieve that is beach sand,
he stood before his goal: a seedling bed of a tropical variety of tree.
Now, Agarwood made it a point to not preach, speak, or behave at the behest of
any god other than his own so as to not show preferential treatment. "I am here
as an elder to a new life," the arboren thought to himself assuredly. "Perhaps,
in time, this tree will also awaken to be an arboren brother or sister.. or not.
Either is enough, and you deserve your chance to live in whichever form that
takes."
Agarwood kneeled and pressed his fingertips into the sandy loam. Like roots, his
digits extended through the coarse dirt and, around the perimeter of the seedbed,
grew some sheltering palm fronds roughly a meter in height. Banana trees require
shelter in their early years, so this was Agarwood's gift to the tree: a shelter
to grow in the company of stronger relatives.
The priest retracted his fingers and lifted himself up to stand on his legs. He
swept any remnants of loam away from the knees of his robes and gave a nod of
satisfaction.
Writer: Thuken
Date Tue Sep 24 15:02:32 2024
To All Cliath ( Imm Admin RP )
Subject Weapons, Traps and Holy grounds - Werepig Storyline - part 1
Thuken made a final tally on his parchment as the twenty-fifth cart full
of brass bars rolled past him into the mountain of Axpvjib. He knew Fionnha
would keep her word but he had not expected her to send so much. There was
enough metal here to outfit an entire army with weapons, yet he was
skeptical that the soft brass would have any effect on the were-pig. Still,
he had decided he would trust the old gypsy who days before found her way
into the dwarven stronghold and asked Thuken to gather a force to confront
the beast and slay it before more people were affected by its curse. This
creature was an abomination, disrupting the natural order set by Cliath, it
was his duty to correct this imbalance any way he could. It had to be
destroyed at All costs.
Thukens mind raced as he walked behind the carts. Though brass wasnt ideal
for weapons, Madame Miri had assured him that it could be forged into
something powerful. With the enchanted steel of old lost to time, this
brass would have to do. She had left him with little explanation, vanishing
after her request, and now, he was alone with the mountain of metal and the
grim task ahead.
The forge fires roared as his apprentices worked tirelessly, preparing the
brass for the days of crafting that awaited them. Thukens hands rested on
the first bar, feeling its weight and imagining the weapons it would soon
become. His thoughts, however, were consumed by the were-pig. As a Bishop
of Cliath, the God of Creation, Thuken believed deeply in the balance of
nature.
His jaw clenched as he began his work. Brass wasnt ideal, but he would
forge it into something worthy of battle. He hammered each bar, turning the
soft metal into sharp, deadly blades. The air in the forge grew thick with
the sound of metal on metal, as Thuken worked with relentless focus.
Days passed too quickly as Thuken transformed the brass bars into weapons of
war. The swords gleamed with a golden hue under the torchlight, their edges
honed to deadly sharpness. He poured his skill into every blade, tempering
them with precision, ensuring that each was balanced and capable of cleaving
through the thick hide of the cursed beast. He knew that they were not the
enchanted weapons of legend, but they would have to do.
By the fifth day, the final weapon was complete. Thuken stepped back to
admire his work: a small armory of brass swords, daggers, axes, and spears,
each gleaming under the light. They were not enchanted, but they were
crafted with the precision and care of a dwarven master smith. In the
middle of it All was his own weapon: a massive brass war hammer, built to
shatter bone and break through the thickest of hides. This would be the
tool he would use if the moment arose to rid the world of the abomination
that had desecrated the balance of Cliaths creation.
Writer: Thuken
Date Tue Sep 24 15:06:34 2024
To All Cliath ( Imm Admin RP )
Subject Weapons, Traps and Holy grounds - Werepig Storyline - part 2
The next morning Thuken began to load the weapons on the carts. As the
carts full of weapons began to roll towards where they would set the trap,
Thuken instead made his way to the basilica, his heart heavy with the
knowledge of the battle ahead. The were-pig was no ordinary beast, and even
in death, its curse could wreak havoc on the land. The creature's very
existence was an affront to the natural order, and Thuken knew that its
destruction was only the beginning. There were greater matters to attend
to.
The basilicas stone doors creaked open as Thuken stepped inside, the scent
of incense and old parchment filling the air. Inside, the clergy and
runesmiths moved about in their robes, their work focused on ancient tomes,
rune carvings, and prayers to Cliath. The air buzzed with the quiet hum of
divine magic, a sharp contrast to the heavy steel of the forge and the clang
of weaponry.
Brother Ingram, one of the head clerics, was deep in meditation by the
altar, surrounded by runes glowing faintly in the dim light. As Thuken
approached, the elder dwarf opened his eyes and rose, his movements slow but
deliberate.
"Bishop, " Brother Ingram greeted him, voice soft but commanding. "What
brings you here, with such urgency in your steps? "
Thuken gave a respectful nod, getting straight to the point. "We face the
cursed were-pig soon and Madame Miri gave us instructions on the proper
burial for this beast. I need your help to ensure that its remains dont
poison the land. Also I need to make sure no one finds the corpse again.
"
The runesmiths and clergy around them grew quiet, listening intently as
Thuken continued.
"When the beast is slain, its body cannot simply be left where it falls.
Even in death, its curse might infect the soil, spreading sickness and
chaos. We must transport the corpse to a secret location - a place we can
control - and bury it with the proper rites. I need you, and the others
here, to sanctify that ground in Cliaths name before the beast arrives. "
Brother Ingrams brow furrowed in concern. "Where will this be done? "
Thuken shook his head. "The location must be far from where the beast will
fall. There is a place, far from civilization, where the earth is still
untouched. That is where you will go, and where the creature will be
buried. But the land must be blessed and fortified against the curse before
it arrives. Only those present will know of its location and for the sake
of All Creation none of you will speak of it. "
Writer: Thuken
Date Tue Sep 24 15:11:26 2024
To All Cliath ( Imm Admin RP )
Subject Weapons, Traps and Holy grounds - Werepig Storyline - part 3
One of the younger runesmiths, Jorga, stepped forward. "What do you
require of us, Thane? "
"Take a cart filled with salt. " Thuken instructed, his voice low and
steady. "When the creature is buried, youll fill the grave with salt. Its
an ancient remedy for cursed bodies salt purifies and seals the earth from
the curses reach, according to the gypsy anyways. We will also add our
protection runes to the site. The salt, along with the runes of binding and
protection you carve into the earth below the corpse, will ensure that the
beasts corruption does not spread. "
The group exchanged glances, clearly grasping the gravity of the task before
them.
The dwarves, more than any other race, were deeply connected to the earth.
They spent most of their lives within the mountains they called home, mining
the rich veins of metal and stone, and living off the resources hidden deep
underground. Their knowledge of the earth's secrets, its movements, and its
power was unparalleled. Over generations, they had become master craftsmen
and skilled miners, shaping their homes and tools from the very bones of the
world. Because of their unique bond with the land and their unwavering
discipline, there was no race more suited or trusted to undertake the
critical task of sealing away this ancient and dangerous curse.
Brother Ingram nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. "We will
prepare. The location you speak of will be sacred ground by the time the
corpse arrives. And the salt - we will see to it that the curse is sealed
away, buried deep within the earth. "
Thuken glanced around the basilica, seeing the determination in the faces of
the clergy and runesmiths. They were not All warriors, but they understood
the importance of their role. The battle with the were-pig was only the
first step. To truly rid the world of its presence, they had to ensure its
curse was bound, and its remains purified.
"Good, " Thuken said. "Take whatever you need. Supplies, tools,
runestones. But work quickly. The battle is near, and I expect the body
will not be easy to move once it falls. "
Ingram clasped Thukens forearm. "You have our word. The ground will be
ready, and the curse will be locked away forever. "
Offering a smile to Ingram saying "Send someone you trust to the battlefield
to observe, should something happen to me they will bring you the corpse.
"
Thuken felt no weight lift from his shoulders, as the one thing he had kept
from nearly everyone aside from Higgins and Madame Miri was that he would be
the bait for the were-pig, he would not allow any of his kin or any of
Cliaths creations to take that risk. Even if he fails and falls on the
field Thuken could be proud he gave his life protecting Cliaths work. His
eye looked down to the hammer that would be the one to break the beast, or
at least it was his hope.
As the clergy and runesmiths gathered their tools and supplies Thuken took a
final look grateful for everyone that would aid in some form against this
cure. Without another word, he turned and left the basilica, knowing the
preparations for the battleand the aftermathwere in the best hands. Now, it
was time to face the beast.
Writer: Hotahat
Date Wed Sep 25 00:44:34 2024
To All Arkane
Subject Collecting Ironwood Seeds
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
| |
| Report from Seargent Hotahat :
| Received authorization from Acting Marshal Agu. Seargent Hotahat, |
| officers Drake and Kirby proceeded on foot to academic tower in early |
\ morning and had short interview with the learned scribes within. |
| |
The wemic's brow furrowed at the note of authorization he was presented, the shapes of the letters squiggling in front of his face as he studied them with a snarl on his lips trying to pin their meaning down. The seal was of an appropriate size, and the message short. Defense. Security.
Hotahat's tail lashed behind him as marched down the street, headed for the academic tower. Pausing only to summon two of the city guardsmen to follow behind.
"Commander Agu needs Ironwood seeds to rebuild the city walls," Hotahat growled impassively as he presented the authorization like a talisman to one of the robed academics who had greeted the party at the tower entrance. From there they had been taken to a private conference room which
offered little more than a large table and tiny chairs which he could not sit in. Hotahat leaned forward and placed his forepaws on the tabletop, "I have brought extra soldiers to guard you while you collect these seeds. As for I, I will be patrolling the paths to make sure you are All safe."
| Proceeded to travel north of the city where Ironwood trees were known :
| to have been planted. We interviewed a local raft craftsman to find the |
| location of this grove. |
Hotahat's ears buzzed as the band walked up the north road, his attention only partly engaged upon the tone of their voice as his stomach rumbled. "I heard a grove of Ironwood trees was recently grown north of the city," remarked one of the researchers with a loud piping voice. "There is a raft
maker in these parts--I'm certain he can point the largest grove out to us. As you know, the density of Ironwood is so great that it does not float on water so it's useless for his trade, otherwise..."
Hotahat chewed on a strip of dried meat and his eyes stared out at the brushline. He could do with one of those forest hens just about now, a slow one, a deaf one, one that hadn't been warned by the sound of the academics talking about floating trees. The path ahead began to grow boggy as the
band approached the flow of muck north of town. The road surface transitioned from packed dirt, to sticky mud, to rows of roughly bound logs stretching across the flowing mud. "Take care there," Officer Kirby spoke up from the lead, addressing the academics. "Stick to the middle, if those logs
roll we will All end up in the muck."
| At the suggestion of the raft merchant, we diverted from the North Road.|
| Approaching the grove we discovered several trees in poor condition. :
| Additional investigation determined that the ironwood grove had been |
| infested by the presence of large enraged beavers. |
The quiet sound of swaying leaves filled the grove of Ironwood trees as the party arrived, mixed with an odd and discordant crunching noise that disturbed the stillness of the forest. Passing under the branches of a particularly large tree the academic in the lighter green cloak remarked about
the brown leaves, "--unseasonable for this time of year." Hotahat's nostrils twitched, smelling a disturbing scent amongst the trees, the odor reminded him of baking.
It was the sound of the tree falling onto the path behind them that finally clued the group to the dangers of the tree grove as a pair of brown furred rodents waddled out from behind the fallen tree.
Writer: Hotahat
Date Wed Sep 25 00:49:23 2024
To All Arkane
Subject Collecting Ironwood Seeds, Pt. 2
The rodents were of unusual size and had four great orange fangs and beady red eyes which were wide and mad as they ran towards the group chittering loudly. Officer Drake stepped forward and flourished his rapier, his leather boot kicking the first animal back several yards but it rolled over
and continued to advance, while the second creature actually leaped up and bit the tip off his sword with a crunch of its teeth! The mad cries from the beavers seemed to be answered from elsewhere in the forest as the bushes began to sway back and forth in a ripple--a ring closing in on the path. Officer Drake readied his mace and protected the academics from the flank, cautioning them not to leave the pathway for fear of getting scattered.
"Metal eating beavers?" roared Hotahat with amazement as he lowered his ruby-tipped spear and charged into the battle, "Then...let us see how they like swallowing this."
| |
| I will omit from this record the detailed testimony as to the flavor of |
| wild Ironwood forest beaver, however interesting the tale may be, my |
: supply of ink is insufficient to describe the many encounters in All \
| the detail it surely requires. |
| |
| To resume, upon return to the city the seeds were entrusted to the care |
| of the University and the beaver pelts distributed to his friends. I |
| now possess three of the smelly things. |
| |
| Remember, if you have need of any writing I can be hired cheap. I will |
| be outside the northeast watchtower if you have need. Please deal with |
| the mud that disfigures our city. |
| |
| Your servant, Hota |
| Hotate Reconing |
| Glath Beavers ++III +IIII IIII+ IIIII+ |
| Seeds IIIII |
| Swords I |
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Writer: Agu
Date Thu Sep 26 02:04:32 2024
Writer: Agarwood
Date Thu Sep 26 11:59:06 2024
To All Sebatis Drakkara ( Religion Imm )
Subject Investigating the Chamber of Pronouncement
Stepping slowly down the stairway of Obnubilation, Agarwood waded through the
thick, wisp-tinged darkness of the rip. Under normal circumstances, a footstep
would echo.. but not here. His footsteps seemed to disappear into the nebulous,
endless nature of this plane. The priest internally wondered how deep this must
go, or if the Goddess Drakkara permitted mortals to burrow only so far into her
domain before putting her foot down. Agarwood also wondered if mortals were even
meant to be here and if, simply by setting foot here, he was taking in the god's
influence by breathing her air.
No matter. The investigation must continue, Agarwood thought to himself. There
is a connection between the Usurper Queen and the Young Master, and that is the
purpose of this visit: to collect the pieces of this supposed puzzle and to ass-
emble them in a way that might resemble a meaningful answer. He reached the last
step of the stairway and entered the Chamber of Pronouncement, cluttered from a
dark tribunal but no less impressive. The priest stood still for a moment to
observe the tapestry weaver, gauging whether or not it was a threat. Its long,
clawed digits worked tirelessly on its fabric. Agarwood could hear the sound of
breathing coming from it, but wondered how this could be done given it did not
have a face with a mouth or a nose. For All he knew, it could have been sculpted
out of clay. Magick is as wondrous as it can be terrifying, he internally
remarked.
Agarwood dismissed the weaver as a threat and rested his eyes on the hourglass,
a monument and reminder to the successes and failures of one particular evening
held by the Infinite Night where the gods of darkness bent their subjects into
kowtow. The hourglass was empty. Judging from the glass, it never contained any
sort of sand or fluid with not a mote of any substance to be seen. A replica,
maybe? The priest's eyes scanned the pillars supporting its glass funnels. What
he saw yielded nothing fruitful. He stood in the cold room awash in purple tint
alone with nothing but the sound of quiet breathing and the scratching of the
weaver to interrupt his thoughts.
There is nothing of note here- only opulence, Agarwood thought with some disa-
ppointment. He would have to rely on mortal recollections of the event, rather
than the stage that was set for the aftermath.
Writer: Archal
Date Thu Sep 26 17:53:28 2024
To Telthian Symantha Vyasa Asreel Gladrim Kaizlark Piknim Altacas Drakkara Abaddon Shadow Slayers Drakkara All ( Imm Storyline RP )
Subject The Unity Imperative (III) - Operations (2)
No, I am not going to torture you. The bound yinn below was already
near breaking, its defiant spirit sapped by long days lashed to the mast
without food, and only water enough to survive. He was being tied face-down
to a narrow bed, which had lately appeared on the forecastle deck, and had
asked the question with the guileless openness of the exhausted.
There is only one thing that I must know, he continued. What was the
source of the magic, which opened the portal, on the night of your assault?
No reply came, and Archal began to shave the fur around the shoulder blades
of the prostrate yinn, who started at the touch, but calmed when it brought
no pain. Pain came next, though. You are going to have surgery, Akher.
Then, you will have an opportunity to fly from here.
The yinn was struggling against his restraints now, noises from his throat
to rival his quadrupedal cousins. Archal raised his voice above it.
Whether you are awake or asleep for the surgery depends entirely on you.
Still with no answer, Archal grasped a scalpel from a surgical kit, and
motioned to his assistant, who had been watching the exchange in silence.
Be ready with the retractor, he instructed, and set to work exposing the
first shoulder blade of his patient.
The moan of pain built to a crescendo, and finally sharpened into two
distinct syllables. The voice groaned a name to Archal, and again, the
consonants sibilant. Archal said nothing, but nodded to his assistant,
whose hands had been freed by inserting the retractor to hold the incision
open around the exposed bone of the shoulder blade. The assistant
administered a draught, and the yinn stopped struggling.
Archal turned to a page on fusing bone.
***
The High Mystic was hunched over Akher, the yinnish prisoner from Greystoke
Manor, carefully tying off a suture with a surgeon's knot. The stiches were
inexpert. Unevenly spaced and with angry flesh squishing up and around
them, they little resembled the diagram displayed on the open page, but the
High Mystic was nonetheless looking from one to the other, and made a little
noise of satisfaction.
Pegasus wings, he said a few hours later, a simple reply to a desperate
question, once his patient had awoken, and gained his bearings. This jaunt
back into consciousness was brief, alas, and the yinn, perhaps from horror
or otherwise simple exhaustion, fell back into a fitful slumber.
Pegasus tail, naturally, the next morning over breakfast, to the next
inquiry. Archal was now sitting at a table of polished cherry, the sun
dawning at his back. His prisoner-patient, in front of him, was coming to
terms with his altered physiology.
In the open air of the forecastle deck, the prisoner was secured to a
surgical bed, still red with the blood that must be driving some portion of
the locals mad with desire. Erupting from shaved patches of angry, inflamed
flesh on the yinn's back were the pristine white-feathered wings of a
pegasus. At the base of the spine, an equine tail did the same.
We are trying to validate what you told us, Akher, Archal said in a
perfectly reasonable tone. In the mean time, you shall begin your recovery.
Pinch your shoulder blades together. The yinn was stripped of all
defiance. Grunting with effort and spitting through the pain, Akher
strained, and his shoulders inched towards one another. The grotesque
appendages quivered, rising in defiance of the malformed sutures binding
them. A faint tearing sound accompanied the tortured rise of the grafted
wings, as though the skin itself protested the unholy union. In the end,
they held.
The High Mystic seemed delighted.
Writer: Asreel
Date Sat Sep 28 13:12:05 2024
To All Abaddon ( IMM RP Fatale )
Subject Patience over Ambition
Hushed tones befell over Abaddon as the last minute signatures were
turned in as the window closed to vote. Asreel walked around the Bloodlands
ensuring its security is correctly upheld during these moments. He
remembers the last time its citizens gathered for a specific cause the
Queens were put in danger.
After initiating the mutiny, neither he or the Count campaigned or
petitioned the citizens for votes and write-ins. They both let the people
decide on their own volition. Asreel made the last preparations and sent
off some missives to various kingdoms as he now awaits the pronouncement
from the gods.
Either way, Asreel has girded his role to protect the Queens, lead the
citizens of Fatale's kingdom faithfully, and connect the kingdom to the dark
pantheon.
Writer: Thuken
Date Sun Sep 29 14:52:13 2024
To All Cliath ( Imm Admin RP Religion )
Subject Putting the Werepig to Rest - Part 1
Thuken watched as Altacas loaded the body of the fallen dwarf-turned-were
pig onto the cart. The fight was long and the dwarf was grateful for
everyone who stood against the werepig. The air was thick with exhaustion
and the scent of blood, but there was no time to rest. The real battle had
only begun, the struggle to ensure the creature never returned. The dark
magic that had corrupted this soul was powerful, and if not properly buried
and sealed, it could rise again.
The cart creaked under the weight as it approached the secret location where
Brother Ingram had been preparing the ritual site. Hidden deep within the
forest, the ground was chosen carefully for its sacred properties, a place
where the earth itself was said to reject evil.
When they arrived, Brother Ingram stood waiting, his hands clasped, and a
solemn expression on his face. The grave was already dug-deep, dark, and
foreboding. Thuken gave a sharp nod to the workers, and they began to
unload the body.
"Careful, " Thuken muttered, wiping a few remaining spots of blood from his
brow. "If the body is disturbed before the sealing is complete, we risk
waking whatever darkness still lingers."
The workers gently lowered the dwarf's body into the grave. Thuken stepped
forward, holding a large sack of salt. He poured it carefully, encircling
the corpse, the white crystals sparkling faintly under the dim light.
Salt-purifier of evil, protector of the living was the first line of
defense.
"Now the runes, " Thuken commanded. A pair of runesmiths knelt at the edge
of the grave and began drawing ancient symbols into the earth with a thin
iron rod. Each rune was precise, each stroke deliberate. They shimmered
faintly, glowing blue, as if the ground itself responded to the sacred
language.
With the runes complete, the next phase of the burial began. Thuken nodded
toward Ingram, who retrieved the final componenta vial of consecrated oil.
He poured the oil over the salt and runes, sealing their power. The air
seemed to hum with energy as the oil soaked into the ground, melding the
forces of purification and binding.
Writer: Thuken
Date Sun Sep 29 14:53:57 2024
To All Cliath ( Imm Admin RP Religion )
Subject Putting the Werepig to Rest - Part 2
Thuken turned to Brother Ingram giving a nod.
The priest began to mutter in the old tongue, his voice low and steady. The
chant was a binding spell, an ancient rite designed to keep the evil trapped
beneath the earth for eternity. The ground beneath their feet seemed to
pulse in response, as if acknowledging the finality of the ritual.
As the last words of the chant echoed through the clearing, Thuken stepped
forward once more. He picked up a handful of dirt, holding it aloft as he
whispered a prayer to Cliath for the protection of this place. Then, with a
swift motion, he dropped the dirt into the grave, the soft thud of earth
against flesh marking the beginning of the burial.
One by one, the others followed, shoveling the dirt until the grave was
nearly filled. As the last of the earth was shoveled into place, the runes
beneath began to glow faintly, then faded into the soil, their power locked
beneath the surface.
Thuken breathed deeply, the weight of the task lifting slightly from his
shoulders. But it wasnt over yet. With one final motion, Thuken hammered a
large iron seal into the center of the grave, the symbol of Cliath etched
into the metal. The final step was the barrier that would keep the cursed
soul from rising again.
The seal sank into the earth, glowing briefly before it too faded, its power
joining that of the salt, the runes, and the chant.
"It is done, " Thuken said quietly. "May Cliath watch over this place. "
They stood in silence for a moment longer, their heads bowed in respect for
the dead and in hope that their efforts would be enough to keep the darkness
sealed away for good.
Writer: Crelius
Date Sun Sep 29 23:28:20 2024
To All Chaos ( Marauders Shadow Verminasia IMM RP )
Subject Path to Ruin: What Comes Before
I loathe this place.
The frozen wastes, a desolate reminder of a pitiless world, offer nothing
but the certainty of an inevitable end, even in its most remote escapes. A
land whose denizens are only monsters, ghosts and cruel men.
I tread a narrow ridge, flat but treacherous, with crevasses yawning on
either side, the surface carved by the unceasing shift of white snow.
Around me, an endless expanse of arctic dunes and jagged ice pinnacles rise
above the blur of the snowstorm like shards of flawed glass, blue in the
waning moonlight.
Out there, somewhere in the unforgiving steppes, lie the bones of my
forsaken race, ground to frozen dust beneath the feet of merciless gods.
The echoes of their once-great society were silenced in a moment of
omnipotent retribution. Those few who survived were left scattered and
bereft, divided by generations into an ever-widening chasm. With each
passing age, the foolish hope of preservation fades, diminishing into an
empty memory, and evolving into a smoldering resentment.
And a fool I might be for returning to this desolate territory. The lethal
cold of this arctic hellscape would surely dissuade even the most stubborn
of my peers. Yet, the biting air is a familiar discomfort, one I can
endure. Still, I've taken to wearing garments crafted from flayed beasts,
insulated by the furs of some distant, ill-fated cousin. The tools I carry
are few, intentionally so, but they are effective should the need arise.
My vision fails me in the impenetrable white wash of the storm, so I keep my
tracks irregular and feathered, focusing on the solid ground beneath me.
What would leave most men lost to an icy fate does not deter me, my other
senses guide me with certainty.
The scent, a perception misunderstood to those of the lesser races, reveals
what my eyes cannot. Even in this damnable blizzard, I am fully aware of
the stalking beast that has trailed me for the past hour. I've kept it
confused with intentional changes in my course and gait, occasionally
dropping bundles of dried meat to slow its pursuit. When I reach my
destination, if it persists, I will kill it.
To the east, far below in the endless fissures of this insufferable
landscape, a skittering pack of horse-sized insectoids burrows through the
frozen earth with chitinous speed. Their blood is like fire, and it stinks
like acidic copper, hunting for carrion or, preferably, warm prey to fuel
their burning veins. To the west, I catch the foul and acrid scent of
something more civilized, if one could consider a frost troll civilized, a
behemoth wandering these glacial planes in search of the one thing
everything desires out here, prey.
But to the north, of course, to the north, further still through this
maelstrom of ice and solitude, there lies the terminus that not even my
Yaenni senses might perceive. Cryptic and unrealistic at the best of times,
I have been given a single phrase to decipher the location of where my lord
has deemed fit to consult with me.
"The tears of Gakzithkir."
Writer: Crelius
Date Sun Sep 29 23:33:46 2024
To All Chaos ( Marauders Shadow Verminasia IMM RP )
Subject Path to Ruin: What Comes Before (continued)
Whenever the attention of the first knight was requested while he was
abroad on duty, it often followed a similar pattern. In the beginning, it
seemed like he was toying with us, or testing us beyond the trials of
initiation. Even among the inner circle, reaching him was governed by a
rigid and utterly clandestine set of stipulations, difficult to navigate.
For those of us in his command echelon, and it can be said only the three of
us were given such authorization, every rendezvous began with the subtlest
of signals that had to be executed to start the process of congregation. It
might be something as simple as turning a dilapidated sign upside down at a
forgotten waystay, or breaking a window on some nondescript structure in a
remote settlement on a specific evening at a precise time. Either way, this
would send the signal. He would then respond, usually through some hired
underling or an unwitting peasant. The standing order was to not leave the
courier alive if the message was delivered in such a way.
For those of us who have been part of this since the beginning, at least for
myself, I've come to understand that each correspondence we receive, each
enigma were tasked to unravel, not only ensures our methods remain hidden,
but also imparts a lesson of sorts.
In this instance, I had to consult many unwilling scholars to even begin to
grasp what "The tears of Gakthizkir" referred to. It took weeks to piece
together the puzzle, and the search for knowledge led me down many
unexpected paths, some violent, some perplexing and some both. I discovered
that the phrase referred to a location tied to an event that had occurred
nearly two centuries ago.
To uncover any details, my study led me to a forgotten set of documents once
kept by archivists who served Greystoke Manor. Their cooperation in the
matter proved difficult, but they illuminated me once I began to dismember
them. Alas, their records were barely more than refuse, but there, amidst
the detritus, I found the name I had been searching for. Bit by bit, I
pieced together a tale that described the hunt and eventual eradication of a
brood of white wyrms. It was strange indeed, to read of dragons that
dwelled in a coven, solitary as they are known, but nonetheless, it seemed
their demise had been carried out.
The intentions behind that hunt were the most peculiar thing, and yet to be
revealed, though I suspected I would soon be enlightened. I had uncovered a
rough artists rendition of the scene, depicting a strange formation of rock
and ice that framed a shaded entryway beneath three shattered pillars.
Above it, the historian's drawing took some liberties, but the constellation
was unmistakable, the Northern Shield, set beneath a waning white moon, low
on the horizon, with a crescent sliver of the red moon hanging above it.
I timed my journey to coincide with this celestial alignment, and with other
esoteric fragments I had pieced together during my inquiry. All of this
effort, simply to deliver a message. One that, despite the mixed progress
of our current prerogatives, would be critical to our cause. There were
also other matters of lesser import, yet still needing his counsel.
Writer: Crelius
Date Sun Sep 29 23:47:13 2024
To All Chaos ( Marauders Shadow Verminasia IMM RP )
Subject Path to Ruin: What Comes Before (continued)
This was not a meeting I anticipated with any eagerness, though to say
they were pleasant to begin with would be a farce. Since our return from
the operation in Dojia, I had noticed a distinct change in my masters
demeanor. His usual tempered confidence had become something sharper, more
volatile. Whatever awaits me out here, I sense it will be anything but
welcome.
I notice a subtle decline in the path, a slight degradation in the grade,
and realize I am beginning to descend. The wailing wind seems to quiet just
enough to catch the faint crunch of snow beneath my feet, I keep each step
cautious on the uneven terrain.
Through the swirling veil of the blizzard, a shadow begins to coalesce
ahead. At first, it appeared as a smudge against the endless white, but as
I draw closer, the silhouette sharpens into the contours of three broken
pillars, jutting upward like the jagged tusks of some megalithic beast.
I pause to discern the scene, and compare what I've committed to memory from
the page. The pillars frame a shaded entryway carved into the face of a
massive ice-covered rock formation. Above, the wintery storm clouds parted
just enough to reveal a broken glimpse of a cluster of stars. I recognize
the pattern of the constellation that glitters faintly, beneath the crescent
sliver of the red moon that hangs harmoniously above.
I have found it.
The entrance ahead was a stony maw cut into the frozen rubble of the
mountain, framed by crumbling pillars that stood as haunting remnants of
civility lost. Beyond them, within the tunnel's darkened throat, shadows
twisted with a perilous premonition. Something about this place was not as
it seemed, unnerving even to one as attuned to danger as I. My lupine
instincts flared, silent alarms firing in the depths of my subconscious.
For measure, I retrieve the obsidian dagger that is snugly wrapped in a
bear-hide sheath at my waist. I inhale deeply, twice, focusing - no scent
of immediate threat from the local beasts, nor any trace of something
lurking ahead. Still, an unease clung to the air like a miasma, a scent of
old death permeated these grounds.
I step forward.
Inside, the storm's chilling fury was immediately muted, swallowed by an
empty, venerable stillness. Only the distant drip of melting ice disturbed
the silence, each drop echoing as might a slow heartbeat. The walls of the
tunnel close in around me, rough, jagged and slick with veins of frost. My
footsteps feel heavy on the frozen ground, the sound absorbed by the empty
dark. Each breath I take seems too loud, the air too still, as though the
very atmosphere resisted my intrusion.
Writer: Crelius
Date Mon Sep 30 00:22:29 2024
To All Chaos ( Marauders Shadow Verminasia IMM RP )
Subject Path to Ruin: What Comes Before (continued)
I move carefully, each step slow and tactful as I advance, keeping low
and ready, my senses tuned to any change. The silence pressed in, but I
stayed alert, poised for the slightest hint of movements not my own. As I
ventured deeper, the walls gradually receded, and the narrow passageway
opened into a chamber ahead of me.
My natural night vision pierces the darkness, revealing the cavern in
monochrome shades of gray and off white, and the sight before me is grim.
Rubble and shattered stone lay scattered across the floor, mingling with
ancient bones, bleached white by time and cold. Broken fragments of armor
and weapons littered the ground, corrosion and ice shrouding them in a
mummified exhibit. The skeletal remains of warriors, some human, others
much larger and reptilian, lay entwined in death, denoting a struggle that
transpired long ago.
At the center of the chamber, rising from the frozen ground, stands an altar
of sorts, hewn from ice and stone. Its surface crystalline with frost, and
what appeared to be blackened and ichorous stains preserved in frigid torpor
for a time I could only guess. From the heart of the altar juts the rusted
shaft of an ancient spear, its metal corroded with age. The weapon was
embedded deep, and whatever force had driven it there must have been
vigorous.
As I approached the altar, a figure emerged from the shadows beyond. A
tall, imposing presence cloaked in rough leathers and hides. A hood
concealed the face, but confirmation was unneeded. I knelt instinctively.
"My lord," I said, my voice echoing through the empty space.
"Rise," commanded a voice as cold and sharp as the icy air. "You have
navigated the path well."
I stood, meeting the obscured gaze of my master. "I come bearing word from
the arcanists, and a report from the field."
"Speak."
Instead of speaking, I retrieved the rolled vellum tucked beneath my coat.
Stepping forward, I extended my arm, offering the scroll to the First
Knight. He reached for it with an unexpected languidness, his hands bare of
the usual battle mail, instead wrapped in crude, primitive furs. His gloved
palm trembled ever so slightly, a faint quiver that would have gone
unnoticed by most, but not by me. My canis traits caught the subtle
irregularity. I felt his gaze upon me, aware that I had noticed.
He then snatched the parchment with a quick, almost chastising motion,
unrolling it without a word. Despite my predatory sight, his features
remained completely hidden beneath the hood, as if the shadows themselves
clung to him. The darkness posed no obstacle to him, however, as he studied
the parchment in silence.
Writer: Crelius
Date Mon Sep 30 00:28:54 2024
To All Chaos ( Marauders Shadow Verminasia IMM RP )
Subject Path to Ruin: What Comes Before (continued)
His lord was quiet for a moment, the only movement the vague shifting of
shadows beneath the hood. "Such obstacles were anticipated. The fools
believe they can alter the course we have set. They are mistaken."
"The manatonic slave-stock is not easily procured," he said, his voice a low
rumble. "I will allow them to be exhausted fully to complete the first
agreement. However, the pariah must remain alive."
He rolled the parchment back, tucking it beneath one of the many straps
securing his furs. Moving behind the altar, he knelt, and I heard the faint
clink of flint striking stone. A torch flared to life moments later. The
First Knight stood, placing the torch upright on the altar, securing it with
a piece of debris. Its flickering light cast sporadic shadows across the
chamber.
Crelius retrieved the message he had stowed, igniting it in the flame he'd
just kindled, and casually discarded it onto the altar. The sudden flare of
light revealed more details of the surface. The frozen blood splattered
across the stone told the tale of a violent death, an execution, plain
enough for even an initiate to see. But what caught my eye was a second,
discolored pool near the platform's edge. Suspended in frozen stasis, its
texture and placement were strange. Was that... The remnants of a birth?
Before I could dwell further, Crelius' voice pulled me back.
"The first phase of this undertaking will proceed as planned. As for the
second, I will consider this alternative path carefully," he said, his
alabaster skin now faintly visible beneath his hood. In the flickering
light, his skin appeared almost translucent, with blackened veins snaking
beneath the surface of his jawline, briefly exposed as the torchlight wicked
across him.
"But I will not sacrifice the child for this final effort, and this they
understand," He re-emphasized. "She is an asset, one who will bear fruit if
we guide her to believe our cause. Her loyalty will serve us in the long
war. We must shape her. Take her from the hands of these miscreants and
deliver her to Deteryd."
This is where I expected things to lead. We stood on the verge of something
extraordinary, something that could turn the tide for our endeavors. Not
just a single weapon, but devices, hewn from Ferrite and infused with the
Ethereal, woven with life, the warp's essence, and empowered by our recent
acquisition. The process had been incredibly complex, yet it had proven
successful. These tools could usher in a new path forward. They could be
replicated and had the potential to disrupt the divine weave that hung over
our every move.
He had named them the Vindicta Crux Animus, and with these devices, we could
act beyond the grasp of both divine and arcane powers wielded by the gods'
servants on Algoron, even if only briefly. The strategic potential was
vast, nearly limitless. The stage was nearly set for our first
demonstration.
Writer: Crelius
Date Mon Sep 30 00:34:21 2024
To All Chaos ( Marauders Shadow Verminasia IMM RP )
Subject Path to Ruin: What Comes Before (continued)
But for Atennim, that wasn't enough. He sought something far beyond mere
obfuscation or fleeting disruption. His vision was long-term, his ambitions
towering over the immediate. He had found a path to something greater
still, something capable of threatening the very existence of the celestial
intelligences, something that could reshape the fates.
The cost for such an artifice? Only the First Knight truly grasped it, and
though he never spoke of it, I knew his instincts or perhaps his discipline,
told him it was something not to be trifled with lightly. Something
unthinkable, perhaps.
Crelius paused, his tone hardening as he spoke of the bloodletters of the
eightfold path. "Our mistrust of them is well-placed. This other route
would force us across a threshold we have long held at bay. A door we
cannot return through. It's clear this is an attempt to stoke upon a vice
we've struck from our doctrine... Desperation."
The web of deadly politics they played with the warp was an impossible maze
to navigate. Even from my vantage, limited yet more direct than most within
our order, it was a hurricane of insanity. A corrupted game of give and
take, where the rules constantly shifted. Over time, as I began to
understand Crelius, at least, as much as anyone could. I saw why he kept
our organization at arm's length from the tumultuous inner workings of the
warp. We All knew it was a dangerous game, but for the First Knight, it
seemed to go much deeper.
I surmised he saw no value in the cult of the Everwar beyond exploiting
their secrets to serve our ends. To Crelius, they were flawed, unstable,
and blind to a greater purpose. He had little faith in their chaotic
rituals or their fractured leadership. Their unpredictability was a
liability, and their incoherent ambitions, while dangerous, were ultimately
irrelevant. Crelius knew his way, the way of his knights, was the only path
to fulfilling their task. In the eyes of the First Knight, the cult was
little more than an obstacle, seldom capable of anything truly meaningful,
let alone waging a war of any consequence.
Yet, I suspect they understood him, too, from the moment he forged his
bloody pact with the Everchosen. Crelius was a man whose legacy was built
on a code, a violent and unyielding one certainly, but a creed no less. Its
roots stretched back to a time before the concept of the warp even crossed
the minds of the most gifted soothsayers. Despite his very real thirst for
retribution, leaving a red wake along his path to the Everwar, one couldn't
help but wonder how much of it was driven by a man consumed with
annihilation, or if it was a premeditated projection.
While madness was intrinsic to the warp, there was also a cunning
intelligence woven within its chaos, a primordial intellect that surely
anticipated the road the Knight of Ruin would walk. To dismiss their guile
as mere insanity was a fatal mistake, a trap that ensnared common men,
leaving them either strangled by confusion or, worse, seduced by it.
Crelius knew this, and he did not miscalculate them. Yet for All their
pandemonium, they had seen something in him, something that even he might
not fully comprehend.
Writer: Crelius
Date Mon Sep 30 00:43:46 2024
To All Chaos ( Marauders Shadow Verminasia IMM RP )
Subject Path to Ruin: What Comes Before (continued)
"Continue with your report, dra'Har." He stated in irritation, having
settled the immediate matter and noticing his commander's drifting
attention.
"Aversia unites against Fort Ironclad, now with the march of hooves and
raised banners. I estimate their lines will form in a matter of weeks,
possibly sooner if the storm goddess' wrath abates," I confirmed. Yet there
were deeper concerns. A growing unrest, subtle but spreading, among the
agents we've long nurtured and embedded throughout the continent.
"As we anticipated," Crelius replied, his voice steady but sharp. "I sense
something else troubles you, commander. Continue."
Despite my efforts to maintain composure, his perceptiveness pierced
through. "I have uncovered irregularities among our most favored
collaborators. A pattern has emerged, one that suggests our wolves among
the sheep are no longer heeding our influence," I said, my words settling
into the cold silence that followed. Crelius remained still, my revelation
hanging in the air between us.
"Irregularities?"
"A vessel of ours never reached its port. Two instances of funds, funneled
through various... Establishments, have gone missing. And there are
reports of several individuals failing to return from the tasks we assigned
them," I answered, keeping a current of tact in my voice. I knew from
experience that if Crelius desired more details, he would seek them out
himself. He often relied on those within his inner circle to manage the
minutiae.
"You neglect to mention," Crelius added sardonically, "that my own distant
relative, captain of the temple guard, has betrayed us and sworn fealty to
the witch queen's faith."
This was unexpected. He already knew of the duplicity among our agents in
Verminasia. Or perhaps he had foreseen this outcome All along. "You
already know," I muttered.
"Of course."
"Have you learned of intelligence that puts our operation in jeopardy?" I
asked, concern creeping into my voice. Had I failed in not detecting this
perfidy sooner?
"Not directly," Crelius replied, his tone resolute, "but our allies and
enemies alike have learned much from us. We must guard against Althainia's
so-called Inquisition, and we must not forget the Crimson Rose and their
nefarious ways. Despite our precautions, we must never underestimate them.
There are those even within our own circles who may have strayed from the
path."
He spoke calmly, but there was heaviness to his words that pressed upon me
almost physically. He still withheld how he had come by this information,
leaving me to wonder just how far his knowledge extended.
Writer: Crelius
Date Mon Sep 30 00:50:55 2024
To All Chaos ( Marauders Shadow Verminasia IMM RP )
Subject Path to Ruin: What Comes Before (continued)
"Your suspicions are warranted, First Knight, but is there anyone you
suspect outright?" I probed, eager to learn if there was deception
festering within our own circles.
"With Mavelle under lock and key, the immediate threat from Storm Keep has
lessened," Crelius began, spoke in contemplation. "However, recent remarks
from their officials, claiming disinterest in our movements, follow a code I
once had a hand in shaping. Misinformation can be a powerful tool to lead
the uninitiated astray. We must treat such claims with the highest
suspicion and respond with heightened vigilance." He referenced Altar
Mavelle, their long-time captive, once a hidden servant of Crelius and later
Telthian Schwartz.
"And your prerogative on this?" I asked, sensing that the discovery of a
potential rat within the walls might prompt a shift in strategy.
"Feign ignorance. My order is to not eliminate those showing signs of
compromise, but to craft our own narrative. Let the rumors spread that we
intend to support our erstwhile allies to the south." Crelius spoke of Fort
Ironclad.
Cunning. This implied that our original plan was diverging from its initial
course. As I considered his orders, I began to envision the shifting pieces
on the board, and a faint realization of his greater strategy began to form.
"I take it, then, we will not be aiding Oge's band?" I asked directly.
A raven-like smirk curled at the corners of Atennims lips as I mentioned the
name. "Perhaps, perhaps not. Our agenda upon Arkane will be ours alone
when we reach its shores."
He remained guarded, keeping our true objective cloaked in ambiguity. I
could sense that his trust was being withheld, and rightfully so, I suppose.
But there was one thing I needed to know. So, I would risk this, asking the
question that lingered in the recesses of my mind.
"And if the Everchosen awakens?"
That was a mistake. The mere mention of the name provoked a reaction from
the First Knight far more dreadful than I had anticipated. A pale fire
kindled briefly beneath his hood, and the shadows in the chamber seemed to
swell and writhe, deepening unnaturally. Dark, amorphous shapes began to
emerge in the struggling torchlight. Grotesque silhouettes, horrors spawned
from some twisted confluence of darkness and derangement, like malignant,
self-aware ideas clawing their way into existence. The torch sputtered out
and died, plunging the chamber into blackness. And then I heard them. Fell
whispers, unearthly voices murmuring my name, cursing me to fates beyond my
comprehension, luring me with honeyed promises.
The moment broke, the visions assailing me dissipated as Crelius voice cut
through the dark, "If he requires the knights of ruin, he need only speak my
name. His voice reverberated with simmering fury through the chamber.
Writer: Crelius
Date Mon Sep 30 00:55:14 2024
To All Chaos ( Marauders Shadow Verminasia IMM RP )
Subject Path to Ruin: What Comes Before (end)
"Come, Commander draHar. Your presence is required on the journey from
this place," Crelius instructed, his voice collected once again as he
stepped out from behind the altar and made his way toward the tunnel. "I
will be visiting each of our captains, with the exalted seer at my side. We
shall root out any lapses in devotion, and those proven steadfast will
receive their next orders directly from me."
I nodded, though still disturbed by whatever twisted force had materialized
in the cave. I couldn't fully fathom what I had just witnessed, but it
reminded me of the gibbering voices I'd once heard in proximity to the flesh
forges- a lunacy transcendent, born of twisted beings from beyond the veil.
Something had changed, had the First Knight stared too long into ether?
"What is this place? I asked, trailing behind him, hoping to understand the
source of that unnerving occurrence.
"A tomb," Crelius replied.
"For who?" I pressed, perplexity edging my voice as I followed him into the
tunnel.
He hesitated, a rare pause. "My mother." His voice barely reached me,
drifting through the cold tunnel, carried away by the roaring winds of
Icewall that awaited us at the cave's exit.
Writer: Carmyne
Date Mon Sep 30 16:45:25 2024
To All (Imm RP Tarabella Kwainin)
Subject Cleaning House, Part Two
The work at the temple was slow, not only because she was with child, but
because there was such an excess to work through. Still, on most mornings,
when she felt up to it, Carmyne would slip quietly from her home and cross
into Althania to do a little work. Sometimes, she brought trusted guards
with her. Most times, she went at it alone.
In solitude, she would sort through the wreckage a piece at a time. No one
ever interrupted her, which, in some sense, she was fine with that. In
another, she hated how desolate and forgotten this temple seemed to be.
Often, when she needed a break, she would sit and watch the heavy traffic on
the street outside. People quickly passed by, busy with other things,
rarely casting even a glance at the broken structure or at the singular
woman sitting inside the wreckage.
She wondered what any who peeked inside thought. Did they think her a
specter haunting the remains of a once grand building fallen into disuse
after such destruction? Maybe they thought she was a trick of the eye, an
ill omen, or someone pilfering for treasure.
None ever entered the remains, at least not while she was there. And
Carmyne was present quite often until work at home called.
Scanning her progress, it barely looked as if she had put a dent in the
mess. But a few stacks of like items were forming. One of broken stone and
another of shattered wood from pews. Books in various states of destruction
and far beyond use or reading formed another pile.
The biggest sign of her progress was a cleared path from the entrance to the
broken statue of Lord Kwanin at the front of the temple.
Carmyne was proud of that cleared path.
Her gaze screeched to a halt at the half that showed no signs of the inferno
which destroyed this place. It laid there, toppled over, and perhaps a bit
dusty.
Rising, she tore a bit from a tartan she'd been working on embroidering and
moved closer to the unblemished sculpture. Carefully, she used the cloth to
wipe away dust and soot until it gleamed in the dim candlelight.
Lord Kwainin, " she quietly prayed. The dinginess and darkness of her
surroundings seemed to absorb her words, but the cleaned bit of statuary
glistened, even in the shadows. "I've needed this. A path. Tae feel
needed an' useful. An' while I wish tae 'onor yae in mae actions, I realize
I'm doin' this for me, tae.
The confession filled the small space, overheard by none, until it
disappeared into the ether.
She stood upright, one hand resting over her round belly. Closing her eyes,
she exhaled a heavy, tired sigh, then smiled slightly as she felt the bairn
move within her.
But I think ye'd bae alrigh' wi' tha'... Wi' th' way this task 'as brought
mae some semblance o' balance through All this. It's exactlae wha' I've
needed. " She paused, looking over at the charred half of the statue.
"Thank ye for tha'... For guidin' mae 'ere, an' for givin' me wha' I need
when I've a 'ard time findin' it m'self.
Moving to one wall, Carmyne grunted as she lifted an overturned brazier,
setting the large soot-covered metal upright. She whispered a quiet spell,
making a magical ball of light, which she placed in the center of the metal
cage. It lit the place enough that she could extinguish her candles.
She did the same for the others, leaving several lights around the circular
walls and bringing the same brilliance of the unblemished half of the statue
to the room itself.
Despite the darkness, and despite the mess still left to clean, suddenly,
there was light All around. It seemed fitting that both dark and light
existed in this space.
Carmyne dipped her head in reverence toward the broken statue, then tucked
the blackened tartan she'd used to clean and her filthy gloves into her
basket.
Thank yae, Lord Kwainin, " she murmured as she walked down the center aisle
toward the street outside. "I'll bae back tomorrow if'n I feel well enough.
Writer: Asreel
Date Mon Sep 30 22:22:00 2024
To All Abaddon Shadow Slayers ( IMM RP Fatale )
Subject A tale of two cities.
Asreel looked around the quiet merchant, shopkeepers sweeping the same
spot every day. The wares were empty behind glass cases, remnants of owners
of old. Asreel envisioned a district that bustled under the dark clouds and
hidden kingdom, some unaware of the goings on in the city of the Dread Lord.
"Guard, send this missive to the other kingdoms of the Dark Pantheon." The
guard grabbed the missive to pronounce the restoring of the Abaddon merchant
district. With the the few eggs that Asreel has gathered, he set out to
make the trading of goods brought about the collective of allies.
A sheepish grin formed across Asreel's face as he thought about those who
might be forgotten among the crowds can be sacrificed, or preserved for the
Queens' return. Beneath the bustle of foot traffic lies the crypts that
provides the veins of life to Abaddon.
Asreel leaned back in his desk, beginning the process of showing the many
forms of strength returned to the kingdom. He pulled a folder out of the
drawer to look over the notes and missives that he has received regarding
the workings of the Dark Pantheon.
He shuffled over to the page with the Slayer prisoner on it. The detailed
anatomic drawings and notes presented by Archal were magnificent. He
noticed the meticulous connections that he made attaching the wings and tail
to the Yinn while managing to keep him alive.
"Can you bring me one of the Gifted to me?" , He says to his assistant.
Asreel begins adding on to the notes provided by the High Mystic. Turning
the page, Asreel reforms the drawn figure, changing the shape to leathery
wings, adding bat-like features to the Yinn.
While his plans for the merchant district are taking shape, he finds himself
handling the undertow of the Bloodlands. He walks down to the prison where
the Slayer is somewhat lucid and coherent. Asreel did not remove his hands
from his silksteel robes as he took note of a new work of art. He whispered
to himself, "This will be the best gift the Slayers received. One of their
own returning 'triumphant' through the front door"...
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Tue Oct 1 00:48:16 2024
To Nordmaar ( Imm Rp All )
Subject Hadleigh's Journey Growing Pains
Hadleigh stood in the doorway of her new shop, The Pelt Peddler, her
heart a mix of pride and uncertainty. She had poured her birthday money, a
generous gift from Aunt Fae and Uncle Gaudin, into this venture. The shop
was a testament to her hard work and determination, a dream she had nurtured
for years.
The shop was a quaint and rustic haven nestled in the heart of Nordmaar.
The warm, earthy scent of finely cured pelts mingled with a subtle hint of
vanilla, creating an inviting atmosphere. The interior was a harmonious
blend of natural wood and stone, with sturdy wooden beams supporting the
ceiling and stone walls adorned with various pelts. Shelves and racks were
meticulously arranged, showcasing the rich textures and vibrant colors of
each pelt. The soft glow of lanterns cast a cozy ambiance, highlighting the
intricate patterns and unique qualities of the animal skins.
Hadleigh had spent countless days interviewing potential shopkeepers before
finally deciding on Gerrick Bruce. Gerrick was a tall, broad-shouldered man
with a rugged appearance that spoke to his years of experience in the wild.
His hair was a tousled mane of dark brown, streaked with silver, and his
piercing blue eyes were both sharp and welcoming. He wore a well-worn
leather apron over simple, sturdy clan clothing, and his hands were
calloused from years of handling pelts and tools.
The shop had been completed on the first snow of the year, a day that should
have been filled with joy. However, it coincided with the early birth of
her brother, the new prince and heir to the kingdom of Nordmaar. Despite
her excitement for her new shop, Hadleigh felt a mix of emotions. The
kingdom's focus was entirely on the birth of the prince, and she could
already sense the changes she had been warned about. As an adopted child,
she would never rule or be able to carry her parents' last name, but the
prince, a true MacCallum by birthright, was Nordmaar's future king.
Hadleigh knew she was dearly loved by her parents, and she adored her baby
brother. Yet, the changes and emotions she felt were something she wasn't
expecting. She also missed her Aunt Fae terribly. Aunt Fae had secluded
herself after the were-pig curse, and Hadleigh felt a deep sadness over not
being able to share this special occasion with her. Aunt Fae had always
been a source of love and support, and her absence was keenly felt.
Greighson was also absent lately. Her once best friend, who she could
always count on, had suddenly taken to spending All his time training and
off on adventures alone. Their courtship had taken a drastic pause, leaving
Hadleigh feeling another loss.
Feeling overwhelmed, Hadleigh knelt in the quiet of her shop and prayed to
Austinian. She asked for guidance to navigate the changes in her life, for
strength to embrace her new role, and for blessings upon her shop and
family. She prayed for her brother's health and happiness, and for the
wisdom to support her parents and kingdom.
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Tue Oct 1 00:50:08 2024
To Nordmaar ( Imm Rp All )
Subject Hadleigh's Journey Growing Pains Pt 2
After her prayer, Hadleigh felt a sense of calm wash over her. She stood
up, determined to face the changes with grace. She decided to channel her
emotions into something productive. The pride of her hard work mingled with
the kingdom's celebrations, and she spent the night stocking the shelves
with the skins she had spent months preparing. Gerrick worked alongside
her, his experienced hands arranging the pelts with meticulous care. As
they worked, they began to talk and get to know each other better.
Gerrick shared stories of his adventures in the wild, his encounters with
various creatures, and the skills he had honed over the years. Hadleigh
listened intently, fascinated by his tales and grateful for his company. In
turn, she shared her dreams for the shop, her love for her family, and her
hopes for the future. She also confided in Gerrick about her aspirations to
become a great priestess for Austinian, dedicating her life to helping
others and spreading kindness.
They laughed together, finding common ground in their love for nature and
their dedication to their craft. As the first rays of the sun began to peek
over the horizon, Hadleigh, too tired to make her way back to the palace,
unexpectedly fell asleep while curled up on a pile of bear skins, the soft
fur providing a comforting embrace. Gerrick covered the young woman with a
blanket and locked up the shop, ensuring she was safe and sound before he
slipped to the back and took a much-needed nap.
Writer: Archal
Date Tue Oct 1 13:27:35 2024
To Telthian Symantha Vyasa Asreel Gladrim Kaizlark Piknim Altacas Drakkara Abaddon Shadow Slayers Drakkara All ( Imm Storyline RP )
Subject The Unity Imperative (III) - Operations (3/3)
The High Mystic oversaw the transfer of custody, Asreel his opposite,
there to receive.
The yinn, burdened (or uplifted) with his surgically appended Pegasus wings
and tail, was sluggish and lethargic as he crossed from one line to the
other. Archal was nearly certain this was a matter of spirit - the surgical
wounds appeared to be healing cleanly, the flesh knitting and binding in a
grotesque fashion, under his unpracticed hand, but not to All appearances,
not infected with Dragoth's blessings.
As the captive was received, and the delegation formally dismissed, a dark
aura formed like a mist, from which a glowering creatue of fell horns and
muscle emerged, the umbral marking of Drakkara glowing upon its brow.
Mounting his felbeast, Archal stole a look back over his shoulder at the
departing Abaddonians, and thought perhaps he might have seen one of the
faces grow rigid with bony protrusions.
He imagined he heard a yinnish scream as he departed, the rest of Storm's
delegation trailing behind him in single file through the narrow, wooded
trail that wound through the swamplands. Imagined, because he did not think
the creature had any strength left to muster a scream of horror, or even
pain.
Returning at last through the black marble gatehouse of Storm Keep, he
dismissed his felbeast, returning it to the umbral plane from which it was
subdued. He strode through the darkened hallways, turning into the library
and through the back, into the chamber of mysticism. Near his glass map of
Algoron was another large tablet on a stand. This one of slate and chalk,
for dynamic note taking. He struck through the interrogation under
Abaddon's heading, then considered the status of the dark corners of the
world, whose progress was tracked in the halls of penance that surrounded
the chamber of pronouncement up on the black moon.
Verminasia, its tapestry five-sixths complete. The Ebony Tower, two thirds.
Bloodlust, three quarters. He shook his head, in mild disbelief that
Drakkara's own tower would lag behind the dungeon. Abaddon - five-sixths
complete, the remainder hanging in a fine balance even as Archal returned
from the Bloodlands, with two more opportunities to aid them on the horizon.
Storm Keep, five-sixths complete.
Archal reflected on this, as word of another murder reached his ears.
"Sir," the steward breathed heavily, "There's another one." Wordlessly,
Archal followed the messenger, secure in his self control that he would not
kill the messenger, whatever turbulence the message brought him. There, in
the back of the practice yard, a dead Novice.
Scrawled in blood upon the high wall next to him, "Necrucifer lives!"
Writer: Archal
Date Wed Oct 2 12:51:31 2024
To All Crelius Chaos ( Imm RP )
Subject Path to Ruin: {uHeeding the Corruption (I)
Wind howled, fierce and biting, a low groan that unpredictably whipped
itself into a high screech, a quavering tonal dissonance that dropped as
quickly as it rose. On the threshold of a low pass between peaks in the
Kurataka mountain range, a lone man clad in charcoal wool paused, his cloak
as sure a sign of the wind as the sound, or the dry, blowing snow.
Divided by perilous slopes, through the blowing snow, Archal could see the
next range of peaks, and the serpentine spine of the mountain which wound up
towards one in particular. Blind, Archal would have known that he had found
the source of the corruption, so palpable was its thrumming to him here, but
he was not blind, and he could see the ruin ahead of him. The destruction
was not complete, but the signs of battle were unmistakable, even separated
by such a distance. The mountain itself was scarred in the fight, the
remains of the nearest peak an incongruous rock slide that now rested strewn
about the temple and its courtyard.
He would not go there now. What evidence was left was unlikely to be
disturbed, and he was long enough in heeding the corruption that whatever
might have perished, would have already. Confirming his suspicion, he
closed his eyes to the sight, scrying out with his mind for any others it
might touch, and found only his retinue of Shadowmagi, hidden at the
precipices of their individual tears into the umbra.
What evidence remained would wait. What else could be salvaged, was as
likely to imperil him as to edify. At a signal, his Shadowmagi collapsed
the openings to their umbral tunnels. The wind continued its uncaring howl,
though some might have heard it as a mournful lament.
Writer: Vorgoth
Date Wed Oct 2 19:15:00 2024
To All Crelius Bloodlust Chaos ( Drakkara Imm Cayenna RP )
Subject What Comes This Way?
Outpost Desolation isn't much to look at yet. When Vorgoth is from, it's
a thriving blacksky port, and he allowed his mind a moment to wander over
his memories of a place when he can never return. Now, it's barely more
than a hovel carved out of a crevasse in a mountainside.
He was just back from PT - physical training, the hallmark of his profession
- and in this induced exhaustion, he often let his mind wander. Rather, it
is the only time he indulges in it, though he thinks his current era
brethren struggle to focus as he does. The terrain around Outpost
Desolation demands excellent fitness, and that makes its maintenance
relatively easy. Fitness, as anyone who maintains it or hast lost it knows,
is not something that is achieved, but something that is cultivated, and in
his line of work, nothing short of peak fitness is adequate.
He focused on the dossiers in front of him, the sketch of each member of his
littlewar unit accompanied by a staccato punch of data about them.
Nickname: Mojo. Ice goblin shaman. Deep perception of beings. Adept at
soulsight, spitiwalking, voodoo, ritual counter-summoning, and hides.
Acquisition: required defeat of Greater Fire Demon.
The point form notes hardly rendered the tale with justice. Nickname:
Eastwick. Dark elf witch. Affinity to magic. Deep knowledge of magic and
its distillation in gourds. Acquisition: reversed the paradox on-
"Lone yaenni, " intoned Mojo, eyes wide and unmoving, still half locked in
his trance. "Eleven leagues away. Traversing the frozen plain. " They had
not encountered anything sentient this close to the outpost before.
"I'll go. Ready my furs, " said Vorgoth, who ate a near-frozen square of
lard and berries to regain his energy, and packed more of the same in his
pockets. After donning the heavy fur-lined leather of a white bear, Mojo
stood in front of him with something ghastly, its pungent musk overwhelming.
Not for the first time, Vorgoth wondered how the shaman managed to keep
these hides "fresh" in the cold of the outpost, but he suspected it had to
do with the fact that they never could smell them, until readied for wear.
"Wear the trollskin, Warden, " the cunning little shaman told him, "The
yaenni will notice something, if he's keen enough to survice this trek. Let
it be something he expects. "
Vorgoth grunted his assent and donned the stinking trollhide. Tightly, he
coiled a Frostwhip at his side. He intended to observe, but if needs must,
this whip would blend well enough with the icy surroundings. He grimaced at
this last thought, as it portended his next act, particularly disagreeable
when venturing into the abyssal cold.
"Eastwick, infravision. " A moment later, the gourd shattered against his
face, soaking him in its contents. Bodyheat began to glow in his vision.
He smashed his fist to his chest, covered in thick layers of fur and
leather. Absent was his normal dragonscale plate, among the most sacred of
armaments and the few possessions he brought here. His small band returned
the salute, and he set out to observe the yaenni interloper.
Writer: Lavinah
Date Thu Oct 3 11:59:19 2024
To All ( dragoth religion immortal storyline )
Subject A Dance of Requital: II
If there was one thing she missed from her time in the Fort, it was the
quiet.
There was sounds, of course, but between the broad forest surrounding the
walls and the cliffs above the oceans to the south, there was often the
paradoxical sound of peace, of rest, in a fort of soldiers.
It was pleasant, and even well after her days of enlistment, she would
wander the forest, when allowed, the Fort itself.
She did not have the same fondness for the docks, however.
Lavinah was not timid about sharing her hatred of the open waters. For
someone who had been born into a life of dance, of balance and of grace, the
churning randomness of the water had always turned her stomach.
Valdalerion knew this. And when, supported by the majority of the Fort, she
called for mutiny, he did not face her, he did not fight, as the Code called
for. No, he locked her in the brig of the smallest ship in the Marauder's
fleet.
This was the second insult the coward of a Highlord levied against her. The
first brought her to call mutiny, the third would ensure she never forgave,
and never forgot.
She put the small knife down, looking over the now short piece of dreadwood,
a somewhat crude carving of a docked boat, resting between the two quite
sharp points of the dreadwood stick. Good enough, she thought, and began
working on the next detail: the council and Mantaroth.
Writer: Agu
Date Fri Oct 4 05:28:04 2024
To All Croatan Arkane Nereza Immortal RP Imms
Subject A Meeting of Shadows
It was a silent table, with dim lighting in the room. Shadowy figures in
hooded cloaks sat around the table, the dim lighting not revealing any of
their faces. A piece of paper sat in front of each chair, bearing the image
and name of Madame Miri, the wandering Gypsy.
The Wemic sat on his haunches, at the end of the circular table. A single
ball of light floated above his head; Not bright enough to reveal the
shadowy figures at table. It gleamed off of the baldric across his chest.
'This. ' Began the wemic with a snarling growl in the timbre of his voice.
'Is the subject of your investigation. She is a Gypsy by the name of Madame
Miri. I want you to find out everything that you possibly can. And I want
you to find out what she has planned for this ritual on the Sixth day. '
'Our ultimate goal will be to prevent her from using this Were-Pig corpse
for anything but removing the curse. If she plans to do anything different,
we need to be ready. We will be using the dead drops. Whatever you find,
if anything, report quickly. That will be all. '
Commander Agu stood up on All fours, folded his arms behind his back, and
turned away from the table. By the time he turned back, the table was
empty; The participants had vanished like they shadows they were meant to
be. He sighed with a sense of relief, knowing that he had now done All that
he could about this Gypsy. The only contingency left was in case the
transformation was complete.
In that, he knew exactly what had to be done. He could not live as
Were-Pig, transforming without his consent, and harming... Anyone really.
The idea of him hurting his wife or cubs.. Any of his friends... No. The
idea made his stomach turn worse than the smell of pork. He would readily
destroy himself before then.
Looking out the window into the darkness of the early night he remembered
that his home would be empty tonight. For the first time in a long time,
that fact made him smile. While he had mastered the emotional surges of his
curse, he knew that sleeping left his discipline relaxed and vulnerable.
Tonight, there would be no trouble.
Writer: Thindyss
Date Fri Oct 4 16:58:12 2024
To All Conclave - Imm Admin Tritoch RP Cayenna Curumo Rhien
Subject Necromancy Research: Charm Undead
Thindyss walked past the all-too-familiar black-robed elf moving straight
to the corner of the room. He unpacked notes, books, broken tablets,
scrolls, as if he had done this same process a hundred times, perhaps it had
been that many. Thindyss had assumed this task would be the easiest of the
ones he undertook he had a vast knowledge of beguiling and of corpses,
perhaps more than any Necromancer he had heard of. He thought recollecting
his journey here, asking several Necromancers about the use of grafting
flesh to create zombies, or if they could hold a grafted zombie and a
skeleton simultaneously, none had the answers he sought. Now Thindyss had
all the answers he needed and much more knowledge that he presumed little
others even knew.
Flipping through papers he pulled one parchment out and reviewed his notes.
Utilizing charm it is possible to beguile five creatures to your will,
however, if five creatures are held before creatures are animated or grafted
you can successfully animate them. If you begin with an animated corpse and
a grafted zombie you will only be able to charm three more creatures to your
will thus reaching the limit of five. Once held the creature's magick that
bound them to the Necromancer had the same properties of one that was
charmed however when created they did not follow the laws of beguiling.
This held in his research into many aspects of various forms of beguiling
targets and various forms of animated objects or summoned creatures.
Thindyss had heard rumors of Necromancers ability to conjure entire armies
he had wondered if this magick had been lost. Looking down at the books and
notes compiled Thindyss was reminded of the cost of this art, his hand
itself could be confused for a skeleton his fingers barely covered with
skin. His sleep plagued by the lives and souls he had harvested, some days
confused at what memories were his own or others. Perhaps if he could link
the magicks of charm to the undead then could he control the armies he had
become so accustomed to in his days as a mentalist. The magick seemed
straight forward the undead were easy enough to identify cultivating an
entire race of lich, zombies, skeletons, and various undead beings.
Charming them was never an issue to those with access to beguiling, Thindyss
himself had used various scrolls and wands to charm undead in his research.
He had even conducted research into the battlemages ability to draw out
undead in their ancient vow.
Thindyss had always found it interesting that this ancient magick that had
been brought back from the past had been tethered to magick he had always
felt within the realm of Necromancy. Did this magick that was brought from
the past spur research into Necromancy? Thindyss eyes darted from scrolls
to notes as his disfigured hands flipped through tomes. He knew the answers
did not dwell within his animated corpses they did not possess the same
characteristics of undead that would be found while adventuring. The answer
seemed simple use threads of magick that were bound to beguiling, weave them
to the connection a Necromancer already had over the undead, and tether them
to the strong bonds of magick flow of Conclave.
Seeming easy and being easy were turning out to be two very different
things.
Writer: Asreel
Date Fri Oct 4 18:20:27 2024
To All Abaddon Slayers ( IMM RP Fatale Xenophon )
Subject A Tale of Two Cities II
"Put it in this room", Asreel says to the skeletal guard referencing the
Yinn in a dehumanized reverence. Asreel spent long and hard seeing the
personal transformation of this Yinn to a merciless work of art on behalf of
the Lord of Graves and to show how merciless Abaddon can become when an
outsider such as this Yinn Slayer poisoning one of our Queens.
The servants of the Bloodlands put the Yinn on an examination table in its
weak state and wrapped the Yinn in restraints made out of bull elephant
leather with arcanium buckles. In a low light room with rats scurrying in
the corners and a distant but constant drip of water coming from the bustle
of the city above.
"Did you find him?" , Asreel asked expectantly and without much of second
after the question was offered did a slinky black figure appear from the
shadows as if teleporting as soon as he was referenced. "What is it you
seek Count? Why did you request one that possesses the gift?" Asreel was
still getting used to his new title among the Bloodlands and thought about
what lead him to go from a Novitiate new citizen to now the Count Deacon of
the Dread Lord's kingdom. "I seek to offer a gift to return to the
Greystroke, Lucian. Simply to return poison for poison." Boggled, Lucian
did not understand why his presence was necessary. Asreel looked over to
Lucian and explored with Lucian, "Take a look at this Yinn Lucian. The
wings and tail of a pegasus looks like it can be its new race. However
there is something I would like to convert this Yinn into a one that
represents the Bloodlands."
It took Lucian a while to consider Asreel's words. Slowly, Lucian began
forming a grin that understood the request. Those with the Gift has the
opportunity to turn others. For Asreel, this Yinn does not deserve a gift
of the Dread Lord. He deserves tainted blood of the gifted. Asreel has
been studying the poisoned orb that has been of great risk to the Queens.
Asreel took a small drop of the poison, and added it to Lucian as he already
begun the turn process.
Dejected the Yinn began to convulse on the examination table and suddenly
stopped. There was a quiet stillness in the room while Lucian and Asreel
looked upon this experiment...
In the Abaddon's marketplace, there was life being restored. Shops being
opened and aired out for new business owners has began talk about life
coming back into the Bloodlands. While conversing with some of the owners,
they heard a faint screech coming from the heart of the Bloodlands... A new
life has been reborn.
Writer: Asreel
Date Sat Oct 5 16:44:08 2024
To All Abaddon Vyasa Vershae ( IMM RP Fatale )
Subject A tale of Two Cities III
As the screeches reverberated through the sunset of the Abaddonian
kingdom, Asreel found himself smug with glee as he has created a demon-esque
monster to return back to the Slayers.
"Why don't we show the Harbinger this creation as to train it up under our
control?" Asreel let this sit with the skeletal guard. "Count, I will
attempt to locate the Harbinger at his home, but I understanding that he is
comforting the Viscountess." Asreel forgot that the Harbinger has been on
leave to aid in the health of the Viscountess.
Asreel informed the guard to provide the instructions to the Harbinger of
what type of conditioning to provide this new creation. As Asreel looks
over this new monster, he felt a bit of Vengeance in his heart. To seek the
Vengeance of the Greystroke was on his mind.
Asreel noticed his own energy behind this plan, but it does not help the
return of the Queens and the healing of one of them. He returned to his
office, and pulled out a sheet of parchment to pen a missive to the council.
Asreel has also included Vershae as one of those stationed to serve the
Queens.
Asreel's list has been properly delegated. Asreel took the opportunity to
begin a time of returning to his theological studies.
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Sun Oct 6 18:02:08 2024
To Nordmaar ( Austininian Religion Imm Rp All )
Subject Hadleigh's Journey Day of The Dead
The first light of dawn broke over Nordmaar, casting a soft, golden glow
across the land. Hadleigh, a young woman on the cusp of adulthood, made her
way to the chapel. Today was the Day of the Dead, a time to honor and
remember those who had passed. For Hadleigh, it was a day to connect with
her biological parents, whose memories she cherished deeply.
As she entered the chapel, the scent of incense filled the air, mingling
with the soft glow of candlelight. She approached the altar, her heart
heavy with both sorrow and joy. Carefully, she set up a memorial shrine,
placing flowers, candles, and a small hand-drawn portrait of her parents at
the center. She whispered a prayer, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Mother, Father, I hope you can hear me. So much has happened since you
left. I was adopted by a wonderful family who loves me dearly. I have a
baby brother now. He's so cute and perfect, and I love him so much, I've
always wanted to be a big sister."
Hadleigh paused, her eyes glistening with tears. She took a deep breath and
continued, "I've opened a skin shop in Nordmaar. It's been a dream of mine,
and it's finally come true. Next weekend, I'll be turning 18. Can you
believe it?"
She smiled through her tears, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment.
"I'm also about to finish my training at seminary. Soon, I'll be a
priestess, just like I always wanted. I hope you're proud of me. I've
become a hunter too, skinning the pelts for my shop, I'm currently trying to
master Whales, not my favorite animal to hunt that's for sure."
Hadleigh knelt before the shrine, speaking quietly. "I miss you both so
much. I wish you could be here to see All that I've achieved. But I know
you're watching over me, guiding me. Thank you for everything. I love
you."
Hadleigh then turned her prayers to Austinian. "Austinian, thank you for
watching over my parents, my new family, and our home. Thank you for
keeping us safe and for sending Raphiel to guide and protect me. Your
blessings have given me strength and courage."
She continued, "On this Day of the Dead, we honor the light and the love of
those who have passed. I ask for your protection over All of us. Shield us
from those who seek to use this sacred day for dark intentions. Let your
light shine brightly, guiding us and keeping us safe from harm."
As she finished her prayer, a sense of peace washed over her. She felt a
connection to her parents, as if they were right there beside her, sharing
in her joy and pride. Hadleigh stood up, her heart lighter, ready to
embrace the future with All its challenges and triumphs.
Before leaving, Hadleigh added a special touch to the altar. She placed a
large, beautifully decorated box beside the shrine, with a sign inviting
others to contribute their own prayers, drawings, and offerings. She hoped
this would create a communal space where everyone could honor their loved
ones.
She left the chapel, the candles flickering softly in the morning breeze.
The Day of the Dead had brought her closer to her parents, reminding her of
their love and the strength they had given her. Hadleigh walked back to her
home, her spirit renewed, ready to step into adulthood with confidence and
grace.
Writer: Penelopina
Date Mon Oct 7 09:03:39 2024
To All Rundelhous Taliena
Subject Just Say Yes!
{pPenelopina Starflower Sha'aryas couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Her
heart was pounding so hard she {pcould hear it in her ears, a steady drumming
that drowned out everything around her. Not that there was {pa sound to hear,
apart from the gentle crash of the waves and the breeze rustling through the
palm trees, {pthe beach was quiet.
{pTaking Rundelhous hands in hers, she looked up into his molten bronze eyes,
silently asking with her own {pexpression if she had heard him right, if he
was serious, if this was really happening. His subtle nod {ptold her All she
needed to know.
{pShe breathed out a soft 'Yes... Yes! YES! Oh my goddess, a thousand times
yes! {p' and with a {psqueal, threw herself into her lovers arms, knocking them
both down into the sands as she rained down {plittle kisses All over his face,
crying and laughing at the same time.
{pHer valiant knight had, after much prodding and teasing from friends and
family alike, finally popped {pthe ultimate question: will you marry me?
{pWhat other response could Penny possibly have given?
{pAs if a bubble had burst, the whole beach erupted into wild cheers,
congratulations, and from Penny and {pFae-Fae, high-pitched squee-ing.
Numerous hugs were exchanged as the happy couple were bombarded by
{pwell-wishes from their friends and family, including more than a few dry
'... Its about time. ' And {palso numerous suggestions they would have a
large brood, for some reason. Or eggs. Or cubs. Something {plike that.
{pThey were going to get married!
{pSure, it would take some time to sort out the details. Between Thalosian
traditions, elven traditions, {phuman traditions, and a myriad of others that
were somehow worked into the mix, they had to get outfits {p(oh goddess, I'll
need a dress! {p She thought) and plan for a ceremony, and even find another
priest {pwho had experience marrying people. But they were going to get
married! Penelopina and Rundelhous were {pgoing to be husband and wife! She
was engaged!!
{pShe did not sleep much that night, too excited. And even when she did pass
out in her bed, Penny just {pkept whispering 'yesyesyesyesyes' in her sleep.
Writer: Andreyna
Date Mon Oct 7 20:22:53 2024
To All Zandreya Imm Rp Religion Xenophon
Subject In the Storm of War: Securing the Path
Andreyna sat at the long wooden table overlooking the maps laid before
her. With a slow glide of moontouched fingertips, she guided an elven
figurine through the Arkanian territory and up towards that of the
Verminasian.
The scouts were on their way. They would clear a path and ensure it was
safe for Verminasia's crossing. The Dark Kingdom had a massive army,
equipped with various siege weapons that needed to make it safely through
the forest.
Soon the allies would form together, joined by the Arkanians. The war was
coming quickly. Zandreya would have Her vengance. The Fort would fall and
the elves could focus again on bringing the Mother home.
Andreyna's eyes fell upon her whitened fingertips. She had given her
darkness to CharredAlder in hopes that he would begin to heal. However, she
did not believe that would be enough. Andreyna fully believed CharredAlder
was in need of the darkened vallen leaves. The ones held by the High
Priestess and Advisor. She prayed they would be in agreement.
Writer: Rhainne
Date Mon Oct 7 22:44:16 2024
Writer: Agu
Date Tue Oct 8 19:07:28 2024
Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Oct 9 15:06:31 2024
To Verminasia Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Arkane Abaddon Shadow All ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject In the Shadow of War: The Shepherd 1 of 2
"Don't stray too close to Ironclad, Liam," the shepherd boy's mother
cautioned as he left the family farmstead, weathered crook in hand, to
tend his modest flock. Curiosity got the better of Liam All the same, of
course, as it so often bested the good sense of young men who day-dreamed of
escaping a mundane fate, of chasing fortune and glory and making a lasting
mark upon the world.
The skinny youth's imagination ranged further afield, clad in shining armor
and mounted upon a mighty destrier, whilst he and his sheep strayed from
open pastures to rocky hills, closer and closer to the Marauder stronghold.
Finally, he crested a ridge and beheld the walls of Fort Ironclad enveloped
by a whirling vortex as Zandreya's divine stormed raged without end.
Arrayed around Ironclad's perimeter lay the Alliance siege camp. Evidently,
the Alliance army had arrived and invested the fort.
Liam could see everything, although he could scarcely comprehend the breadth
and scope of it all.
A cluster of large tents and temporary structures dedicated to command staff
and logistical purposes, like the quartermaster, mess, and infirmary, were
located safely at the center.
Blocks of smaller tents further insulated the center: sleek Shalonesti tents
cut from some sort of magical cloth that shifted colors to blend with
terrain eclectic Arkanian tents in varying colors, shapes, and sizes,
seemingly more suited to a tournament grounds than the field Verminasian
tents uniformly round, tall, and dark with conical tops flying gilded purple
pennants.
The next concentric layer accommodated stables, kennels, and livestock, as
well as carts, wagons, and the like. Mounted and foot patrols in constant
motion maintained security for the camp.
Last of all, the young shepherd noted a number of gypsy-style wagons circled
together on the camp's outskirts nearby. There, in the open ground adjacent
to parallel lines of Topknotch Scout pup-tents, a free company of kender
soldiers armed with hoopaks drilled in formation.
Liam climbed atop one of many boulders and rocky outcroppings studding the
ridge, wondering absently whether it had once been flung from a catapult,
and took a seat to enjoy a lunch of bread, raisins, and a creamy wedge of
sheep's milk cheese as he watched the kender march back and forth. A
sergeant wearing an eyepatch and a wide smile belted out marching cadences
one line at a time and the troops in his charge echoed them with no shortage
of gusto.
Hi, ho, Balifore!
Let me hear the cannons roar!
That sounded mighty fine,
Let me hear it one more time!
Hi, ho, lemon balls!
Let me hear the cadence calls!
That sounded mighty fine,
Let me hear it one more time!
Hi, ho, bubblegum!
Let me hear the marching drums!
That sounded mighty fine,
Let me hear it one more time!
Hi, ho, gingersnaps,
Let me hear the people clap!
That sounded mighty fine,
Let me hear it one more time!
Hi, ho, gummi bears!
Let me hear the trumpets blare!
That sounded mighty fine,
Let me hear it one more time!
Hi, ho, cherry pie,
Let me hear your battle cry!
That sounded mighty fine,
Let me hear it one more time!
Hi, ho, lollipops!
Let me hear the hammer drop!
That sounded mighty fine!
Let me hear it one more time!
Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Oct 9 15:14:05 2024
To Verminasia Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Arkane Abaddon Shadow All ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject In the Shadow of War: The Shepherd 2 of 2
Liam could not help but smile in amusement. The Baliforian soldiers
resembled children, he thought to himself, or lambs perhaps. Sheep without
a proper shepherd to guide them. Why did they stray so close to Ironclad?
What fate but death could they hope to find in the shadow of an impregnable
fortress? The real soldiers likely considered them a nuisance. The
Verminasians probably laughed and jeered when they marched by. Yet here
they were chasing fortune and glory and making a mark upon the world,
however small it may be.
If a kender could do it, why not Liam of Old Lanstone?
Suddenly, like a boulder flung from a catapult, a shadow the size of a
farmhouse split the clouds and plummeted from the sky directly behind Liam.
A dreadnaught of rippling muscle and jet-black scales shook the earth as it
landed amongst the flock, scattering sheep in All directions and pinning a
straggler to the ground with talons like reaping scythes. Liam slid off the
outcropping and and landed on his bottom with a thud.
He trembled as dragonfear gripped his heart and struggled not to breathe too
loudly lest the Firstborn find him. The helpless bleating of a doomed sheep
sent a chill up his spine. Liam could hear the shifting of draconic bulk,
webbed wings furling, and a serpentine tail whipping through the air, but he
dare not look.
"Found you," a high-pitched voice exclaimed in the young shepherd's ear. He
turned to find himself face to face with a madly grinning kender wearing the
black garb and accouterments of a witch. She booped Liam's nose playfully
with a sharp fingernail, rendering him speechless, before tucking a shiny
gold coin into his pocket as recompense for her dragon-ward's lunch. "A
battlefield is no place for lambs, precious. Gather your flock and run
along home. Off you go!"
The youth needed no further prompting. Liam scrambled to his feet and
rounded the boulder, giving Viszathyk the Gilded Dread a wide berth as he
sprinted back in the direction of Lanstone village. The ancient black's
verdant gaze tracked him with a hungry glint, razor-sharp teeth bared in a
grin every bit as wicked as that of his bantam warder. Acidic bile dripped
from his lips, sizzling and popping as it landed upon the sheep in his
clutches. He flexed his talons cruelly, ensuring that the pathetic bleating
of a dying creature would echo in Liam's ears All the way home and beyond.
"Hoho! The poor boy left his crook behind," Piknim remarked as she climbed
atop the boulder, took a seat, and inspected the creamy wedge of sheep's
milk cheese that had fallen into her pocket as Darkfinder and dragon settled
in to share a meal and watch over the blissfully ignorant Baliforians from
above.
Hi, ho, belly ache!
Let me see your booty shake!
That sounded mighty fine!
Let me see it one more time!
Writer: Thindyss
Date Wed Oct 9 23:46:26 2024
To All Conclave - Imm Tritoch Admin Cayenna Drakkara RP
Subject A fork in the road, a new path appears.
Thindyss walked past the familiar lunar crystal obelisk, he thought
briefly to himself how strange it was that such a remarkable landmark
merited barely a passing glance most days. Thindyss however did not climb
the rickety staircase toward his tower and the familiar Library of
Necromancy, today his research took him to the bare practice rooms of his
tower. He sat before a large cauldron notes splayed out before him
contemplating his future.
Thindyss rubbed his hand across his thigh feeling the stitching that
depicted the crest of Verminasia, glancing down he recited under his breath
the phrase, For the infinite night. Pulling off his gloves bearing the
crest of Malice Thindyss had not let himself forget the history that had
paved the roads of today uttering, For the infinite night, we forget none.
In earnest Thindyss had hoped at most to rise and serve her tower as an
Archmagus. He had assumed his childhood curse would prevent him from much
more always seeming to lack the ability to communicate effectively and
follow social normality, and his ill-temper was not a suitable quality for
governance and policy. Yet here before him stood this cauldron he had drug
in here a symbol of a possible future he couldve never imagined and a
reminder of the work he made to improve his shortcomings and the work he
still had yet to do.
Thindyss had thought he would write a name for himself through Mastery of
all of the advanced books. He had plans after gaining mastery of the
mentalist arts to dedicate no less than 500 hours of study to each of the
books, conducting thorough research, creating publications, and earning
mastery of All of Conclave's books. Thindyss mulled over the rather
dreadful research he had attempted to conduct in brewing thus far. This was
not the first cauldron Thindyss had drug in here, lacking the knowledge of
conjuring one he had purchased them, his first attempt ended quickly when he
dumped acid into the cauldron and it burnt right through it, he was
particularly embarrassed with that attempt. Others had shattered under
strain, blown to bits when trying to add his own magick, or cracked when his
protective magicks faded from them. Everything he had attempted yielded
nothing only his discussion with those knowledgeable about brewing yielded
any value.
Thindyss stopped peering at the cauldron representing what was only a
possible future, a looked towards his notes, no point in focusing on the
failures, mastery and true success were built on the foundation of failure,
and those who were knowledgeable could turn that failure to a lesson. Just
as clinker and gypsum could be mixed into cement failure and determination
could be mixed into success. Thindyss would need to learn this art to
answer the questions he still had. Was brewing truly theft of magicks from
the Gods? If it was how much of the laws of magicks did the gods truly
possess? Laws dictated brewing to an extent how far did they go, did these
laws come from the Gods or somewhere else?
Thindyss gathered up his notes meticulously putting them away with an odd
bit of frustration. Better to get back to tasks he had control over then
get bogged down with questions he couldnt yet answer. Thindyss looked at
the cauldron as he walked away, time would tell what path he would follow in
his future journey.
Writer: Piknim
Date Thu Oct 10 17:21:06 2024
To All witches warlocks Verminasia Shadow Telthian Symantha ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject Darkfound
Magic came naturally to most mortal races. The gods of magic were
generous by All accounts, the three moons bountiful. Kender mages, however,
were a rare breed.
Some say, rightly so without a doubt, that the kender race lacked sufficient
discipline, focus, and willpower to learn magic.
Some say, rightly so without a doubt, that no responsible wizard in his
right mind would entrust a kender with such power - and no wizard out of his
mind could muster the time and patience necessary to teach a kender without
losing whatever sanity he had left.
Piknim Cracklespark, a kender magi herself, wondered at times whether there
were other reasons as to why magic eluded them so. Perhaps because her kind
found magic where tall folk could not - in the smallest things from a
sparkly rock to a tarnished coin, one man's trash and another man's treasure -
they had little room left in their pouches, or simply no need of the real
thing.
But for the handful of kender mages, of which can be counted on one hand or
even a foot, the novelty of true magic never faded. Hours upon hours,
Piknim tended the cauldron, stirring and chanting and cackling, and
occasionally croaking for help, to distill magic into potent potables for
every possible endeavor. Adventure came calling often, but opportunity
knocked only once. A Darkfinder must therefore be ready.
"Ready for anything!"
Ahh yes. The Topknotch Scout motto.
And so, another moonrise found Piknim working her craft well into the
witching hour, filling baskets of gourds for the AGL matches to be held that
evening. That is when something wholly unexpected occurred. She beheld a
gourd that nobody had ever seen - and may never see again.
Misshapen and black as pitch, the gourd pulsed with fel magic its mere shell
could barely hope to contain. Tendrils of stygian darkness seeped from
hairline cracks, a shadow torrent that whorled around her tiny fingers like
serpents before slithering back whence they came. A demonic entity had
manifested upon Algoron, perhaps, and in that brief span of time before the
rift betwixt planes of existence snapped shut a hapless kender had managed
to borrow.. something.
Something no responsible wizard in his right mind would dare to touch.
Writer: Vyasa
Date Sat Oct 12 10:46:04 2024
Writer: Thindyss
Date Sat Oct 12 15:12:02 2024
To All Conclave Shadow Verminasia Piknim - RP Imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin Tritoch
Subject Searching a new path, breaking brush.
The smell of books and parchments assailed Thindysss nostrils as he took
a deep breath in, he had become so accustomed to the smell of corpses and
embalming agents that this smell was nearly overwhelming. Lamps scattering
the Library shed so much light the corners could barely hold onto their
darkness. Thindyss was still not accustomed to this environment, it seemed
like an eternity since his time here as a student and young Magus, none the
less there was work to be done and the Library held more knowledge than any
place Thindyss could think of.
Books, scrolls, and parchment covered nearly every inch of open table space,
if anyone had walked in, they might think the Vizier had employed every
student and apprentice the tower had for his research. Nearly four hundred
unique spells and songs Thindyss had noted, he was sure he was missing some,
or that some had fallen out of practice that he had listed but now he had
nearly All of them recorded. If Thindyss had truly hoped to identify the
laws that applied to brewing it would have taken more testing than Conclaves
books.
Thindyss thought back to his Conversation with Piknim and her reference to
borrowing magic, a popular term amongst Kenders who had been found with
others' belongings. This was certainly a popular belief amongst many
scholars but there were too many laws that governed it that had already been
identified for Thindyss to truly believe that magic was being stolen,
certainly not magic that was supposed to be highly guarded, valued, and
protected. Then there was the matter that there were spells that could not
be brewed at all, this led to Thindysss theory that the Gods indeed possess
the power to govern the rules that applied to the cauldron and they could
choose to grant or omit from the process at their leisure. Given the
opportunity it was one of Thindyss first goals, to attempt to brew every
recorded spell. This would be the first step in proving, or disproving
Thindyss theories.
Thindyss had wished there was a way to have the Advisor join him in this
journey of study, certainly, her expertise and knowledge were second to
none, and her advice and sharing had already been invaluable. Thindyss
thought about All the records he had read and heard, from a Warlock Wizard
of the Ebony tower to a time before Wujen were permitted within the halls.
Thindyss had loved the research, the theories, and the possibility to expand
and share the knowledge and power of the magicks. Thieves of magicks they
had called them for so long, maybe one day they would be calling them
Student, Magus, Advisor. Chuckling Thindyss snickered for when he thought
of thieving magick the first thing that came to mind was that of a Barbian
carrying so many potions you could hear them clanking from a mile away.
Thindyss purveyed the room considering the disarray, he walked away deciding
to leave it, at least here there wouldnt be a grumpy old elf with mold
growing from his robes to give him cross looks for the mess.
Writer: Vorgoth
Date Sun Oct 13 09:24:07 2024
To All Crelius Bloodlust Chaos ( Drakkara Imm Cayenna Whiskey RP )
Subject What Comes This Way, and Who Returns?
No amount of mindful intentionality can make a hulking ogre slip quietly
and unnoticed past a beggar in an alley. Some small cunning, the musk of a
mountain troll's preserved pelt, and infravision in the cold can let him
follow his quarry from a distance across a glacial plane in the howling wild
wind, however, and this is how Vorgoth watched the yaenni start down a
gentle slope in the ice.
By now, the cold was seeping in. The ogre is no less adapted to the cold
than the yaenni he observes, but these frozen wastelands are home to a
different kind of cold. A killing cold. The realm of scarce prey, scarcer
white wyrms, and slow torporous death.
Through the blizzard and its shrieking winds, he watched the heat of the
yaenni begin its descent into some sort of cleft, with a hulking formation
rising above. He crept just close enough to see the crumbling pillars that
framed a shaded entryway carved into the face of the massive ice-covered
rock formation.
He weighed the risks of approaching this structure, and remaining exposed to
the full fury of the northern tempest. Slowly, allowing the snow to build
upon his fur and skin covered bulk, he crept forward, and settled into place
in the rock formation. Thus partly sheltered, he pulled a square of lard
and berries from his meagre supplies and ate, the most critical thing now
being to maintain his body heat.
After some time, the yaenni returned, exiting the formation. Vorgoth
resembled little more than another ice-covered boulder among the formation,
though a keen eye would still spot him, given time. A second figure walked
along with the first, unmistakable. The Knight of Ruin. Instantly, the
ogre dropped into a mindless state of meditation, not a single fleeting
thought disturbing the psychic silence. Ogres in his time were better
trained, better educated, but they remained ogres, and his ability to empty
his mind was as prodigious as it was natural to his kin.
He had been weighing his options. To ambush the yaenni on its return trip.
Capture him for interrogation, like some of the others. Kill him, like
other of the others. Let him pass and investigate this structure. All of
it was gone in an atavistic stillness of survival.
He waited.
Above him floating Mojo's spirit. The shaman had been mirroring the ogre,
keeping watch. What he saw now made him recoil, his soulsight revealing
something he could not explain in the human who had walked out with the
yinn. In almost every case, the shaman will find one soul to one body,
shaded with the aura that proclaims its nature. Most describe this as
golden among the light, a crimson red among the dark, and an ethereal
clarity for those who lean in neither direction. What he saw in this man
resembled a writhing, inky mass of black tendrils struggling to burst free
from their hold.
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Sun Oct 13 11:09:43 2024
Writer: Hadleigh
Date Sun Oct 13 20:19:19 2024
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