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Player Written Story Note Archive

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

Listed By Author Name

The Return of Isadore & Joat (Part 4)
The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Homecoming pt. 1
The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Homecoming pt. 2
The Ascension of the Demon Necrose: Part 2: The Unification
The Training of the Magi: The Dark Art of Necromancy
Heroic Vision Quest! I need to eat what?!
The Twists of Fate
The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: With Friends Like These pt. 1
The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: With Friends Like These pt. 2
The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: With Friends Like These pt. 3
The Training of the Necromancer: The Search for Self
The State of Things
A Search For Self: Vampirism
Lost City - The Time to Kill
Lost City - The Time to Kill (2)
Lost City - The Time to Kill (3)
Vampirism: The Sacrifice
The Sacrifice: Visions of a Lost Soul
Horn of Oblivion - Changing Paths
Lost City - Sidebar
The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Xul'vidaan, Ambition's Reach pt. 1
The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Xul'vidaan, Ambition's Reach pt. 2
The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Xul'vidaan, Ambition's Reach pt. 3
The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Xul'vidaan, Ambition's Reach pt. 4
The Lamp Lights Flickered and The Ground Shook...
The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Notice of Arrival pt. 1
The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Notice of Arrival pt. 2
Cold Snap
The Disturbance In the City..
The Umbral Diaries of High Mystic Nyiodail
Treats before Tricks
The Umbral Diaries of High Mystic Nyiodail
Lost City - A Message
Lost City - Dra'strit Monastery [ The Ghul ]
Whispers of Home





Writer: Feldritch
Date Sat Aug 3 20:20:38 2019




Writer: Valdaris
Date Sat Aug 3 22:52:44 2019




Writer: Joat
Date Sun Aug 4 16:55:39 2019

To All Verminasia Isadore Rhoslyn

Subject The Return of Isadore & Joat (Part 4)



The dark hooded figure stood in the small cave-like room where Isadore &
Joat sat.

"With the master gone, one of you must return to assist in restoring order.
Darkness must continue on." , He stated.

'Sounds like that's your job, Voice. ', Joat said, peering over his cane at
Isadore.

The dark figure continued, "I will, however, warn you, that whichever one of
you returns to the realm of the living, you will be completely changed.
Your youth and energy restored. But don't celebrate too long, it will not
last. You will be tasked with restoring memory of the Master.

Isadore sat silently, nodding at the dark figure, his gaze never wandering.

"I'll leave it up to you which one will return to the realm. Ensure that
your decision is the right one." , Said the dark robed figure.

'We bae ready. ', Isadore suddenly declared, standing up. Joat stayed
seated on the stone bench momentarily.

'We are? We haven't even discussed it yet. ', Joat attempted to protest
before using his cane to stand to his feet.

Behind both men, the dark hooded figure opened up a portal of some sort.

'I guess you have work to do, old friend. ', Joat quipped, outstretching
his hand in order to wish Isadore good luck.

"Aye. Indeed ah do." , Replied Isadore, grabbing his hand and shoving Joat
forcefully through the portal just as it closed.

The dark robed figure nodded at Isadore, whom flashed a toothy grin, holding
on to Joat's cane with pride, and sat back down on the stone bench.

The whereabouts of the former General of the Dark Army are currently
unknown.

(Written together with Isadore Schwartz)




Writer: Joat
Date Sun Aug 4 20:30:21 2019




Writer: Ezrianne
Date Sun Aug 4 22:46:52 2019




Writer: Vincent
Date Tue Aug 6 16:28:32 2019

To All Shadow Verminasia Nehtur Geirhart ( Necrucifer Cayenna Ampersand RP )

Subject The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Homecoming pt. 1



Oft naught but the relentless red sun shone through the hazy skies of
Pazunia, the plain of a thousand portals and the "first" of the Abyss'
infinitely many layers. Its surface was a barren wasteland pocked by iron
fortresses and marred by dark pits which served as points of entry to lower
levels of the Infernal Planes, the deepest of which was known as the Blood
Rift, a bottomless chasm which connected the realm by myriad portals and
gateways. Through it ran the river Styx, a current of blood whose course
was ever changing, but likewise served to bridge together these upper-most,
fiendish places of oppressive horror.

Countless mane petitioners, once mortal souls of chaotic evil nature in life
and the lowest order of demons, roamed the scorched expanse where they were
hunted for sustenance or tortured for pleasure by those higher on the food
chain. Roving bands of bipedal, weapon wielding molydei, red skinned and
possessed of both a lupine and serpentine head, stalked lone stragglers and
unwitting visitors of the plane. Possessed of arms and legs as well as
wings, large, vulture-like vrocks flew over head, maintaining dominance of
the layer's air space in service to their obyrithian demon lord.

And so it did not go without notice when the archfiend Xaran'xaxes, yet
bound in Vincent de Vere's mortal flesh, appeared in that drab, ochre sky
wreathed in luminous energy of violet hues. Like a falling star he
plummeted from above, black smoke trailing in his wake. His descent was
slowed by the attempts of those vrock desperate enough to pluck their prey
from mid air, two of them killed outright by the initial impact and several
more crippled by the remaining force.

The juggling of grasping talons, pried open and burned by his searing aura,
saw the vessel to the ground with fractured bones and tattered apparel, but
otherwise whole. The sack of bottled air once roped to de Vere's arm
arrived moments later, the tether long compromised, crashing down some yards
away. Miraculously it had not yet been stolen by another. Dubiously,
perhaps, its contents remained intact.

Xaran'xaxes and pain had been close acquaintances for eons and yet the
latter always remained interesting company, taking on myriad shapes and
forms, distributed by many and received by most all. Though no stranger to
its aspects, the agony he felt now was alien and unlike anything he had
experienced thus. Even after several millennia, it would seem that pain
still had new and exotic surprises in store. This particular brand resulted
from, in the briefest words, the human vessel being torn asunder by the
Abyssal, native spirit within.

Like attempting to force a lake into a fishbowl or a cow into a frog, the
mortal body was not made to contain such vast stores of arcana. On a very
fundamental level, it was much the same as an arthropod molting its shell to
accommodate a greater form. This metamorphosis, however, was untimely and
unwelcome and so, with every expenditure of his will, the archfiend strained
to halt its progress. He yet needed this worldly binding of human flesh and
bone.




Writer: Vincent
Date Tue Aug 6 16:30:10 2019

To All Shadow Verminasia Nehtur Geirhart ( Necrucifer Cayenna Ampersand RP )

Subject The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Homecoming pt. 2



Finding one's way to the Infernal Realms had never been difficult. Those
mortals with dark hearts and blackened souls were ferried there after death.
Several small portals in, though not out, were found sequestered about
Algoron. Even several of Hell's ordered layers could be easily accessed
from the prime material plane.

It was always the escape therefrom which presented a problem and for good
measure, lest the world be overcome by the quarrels of the divine. Absent
the gods' expressed permission or an ambitious summoning ritual, even the
most lesser of demons and devils found their way to the material plane
barred. Though "back doors" did exist, for the demon lord Xaran'xaxes,
remaining within de Vere's Algoron-born body was the most probable means of
expedient return.

Over two hundred years had passed since the archfiend sabotaged the
Fatale-gifted rite permitting demons to inhabit Algoron's dead and dying.
"Vampires" they were mislabeled, for better or for worse, for though they
did sup on living blood and burned under the sun's light, they were anything
but. The disease which once ran rampant across the realm had All but been
extinguished, with only a few "true" vampires still walking its face.

Those demonkin of the Dread Lord were not likely to forget Xaran'xaxes's
trespass over such a relatively short period of time. Forgiveness was not
in their nature, nor was it in their capacity to learn. They had presumably
increased their guard over performance of the ritual and, while certainly
capable of overpowering them, the archfiend had neither the time to do so
nor the desire to antagonize the Aspect of Murder given the current state of
affairs. Pressing matters remained within the world of Algoron.

Blaring from a form too frail to contain it, the eruption of arcane energy
was nigh matched in intensity by horrid, bestial roars of suffering. The
beacons alerted more than one troupe of demonic scavengers, their
simultaneous descent fortuitously staggered by distance and the many mutual
threats Pazunia presented. Droves of molydei, armed with their nets and
axes, comprised the majority of the flesh bound fiend's immediate
antagonists.

Jets of dark energy surged from de Vere's hands, disintegrating the first
waves at their approach. Though capture was the least of his present
concerns, some small measure of time was bought by venting the overwhelming
amount of arcana flooding back to him. How long this body would survive it,
doubled over on its knees and elbows from its inhabitant's anguish, was
anyone's guess. As the moments passed, Xaran'xaxes surmised it would not be
much longer.

Soon after, from above or behind the raging fiend could not tell, a
projectile struck the rear of de Vere's neck and coiled around his throat.
Sharp barbs dug into the flesh, securing the object's hold. To his relief,
the flood of energy came to an abrupt halt. The unholy, luminous aura
subsided and with it the pain. All then faded to black as, for the first
time in his long existence, the demon lord fell unconscious.




Writer: Aliera
Date Wed Aug 7 13:59:39 2019




Writer: Aliera
Date Wed Aug 7 16:18:08 2019




Writer: Kaisan
Date Wed Aug 7 16:26:44 2019




Writer: Feldritch
Date Wed Aug 7 20:21:26 2019




Writer: Cieran
Date Thu Aug 8 08:02:44 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Thu Aug 8 12:31:40 2019




Writer: Malichi
Date Sat Aug 10 21:58:20 2019

To All IMM RP Conclave

Subject The Ascension of the Demon Necrose: Part 2: The Unification


Seek power where it can be found, and claim it for yourself!. Be in
constant state of improvement, and you shall please her...... Praise be to
Drakkara!


Malichi Necrose leads the onlookers down into the caverns under Death
Garden
. The witnesses shudder as a wet breath blows across their necks.
This is a place of pure evil. Yes, the darkness will be pleased. Flesh
drips down the walls as spiders scurry across the floor. In the library a
Master Necromancer and his students can be seen making preparations for some
sort of magical ritual.

Malichi of elven blood are you prepared for the consequences of this ritual?
You may perish, you may be disfigured, but what is certain is that you will
experience a pain like no other as if you have felt the strike of death
across your chest!

Master Necromancer I am ready.... We are ready.... To be joined as one
mind, one soul, one flesh!!! Let the consequences be damned!


Then so be it my child! *cackle*

Malichi lays down blood tipped stones in a circle around him as he kneels in
prayer. A cyan barrier of wavering light zips across the ground and rises
high overhead, forming a strong barrier between himself and the witnesses.


Oh Dark Mistress may my actions be true, may they exault you. If I falter
strike me down, if i please you lift me up, may your magicks flow through me
like darkness in the night and may the Black Moon bathe me in its dark
power!


My brothers come join me... In battle we are stronger... When death will
falter.... Sacrificed to the altar.


As the Master Necromancer speaks his students echo his chants. Malichi
suddenly flies up violently as he is carried by a dark cloud and spinning in
the air!

Malichi reaches out his hands towards the ground muttering an indecipherable
incantation as the undead rise from the earth grasping at the feet of the
worried and afraid onlookers. The undead focus their gaze on Malichi and
raise their arm towards him as a dark power begins to shake the cavern.
Malichi is bathed in darkness as the power of the Black Moon erupts through
a crack in the cavern roof!

One thousand years of wait is over. Now you claim what is rightfully
yours!!!!


The students join their master in the chant again and again as the ward of
protection glows brighter and brighter protecting the witnesses from the
power within.

Malichi is grasped by the Hand of Darkness as it breaks through the roof of
the cavern, piercing his flesh with blood claws.

Nooooooo.... The... Th..... The paaaaa.... Paaaaain!!!

Malichi is thrashed by dark magic as flesh is ripped from his body,

Witnesses!!! Let me hear your plea... What the elf LIVE.... Or DIE!!!???


The onlookers pleed with the Hand of Darkness to let Malichi live but the
evil being mocks them!

Your mercy displeases me as it shows weakness....This one shall DIE!!!!!

The Hand of Darkness gestures at Malichi as the elf's hands raise and shake,
not under his control, the dark being mutters an incantation as Boiling Acid
spews forth from Malichi's own hands covering his body in the acidic goo.
The Boiling Acid eats away at Malichi's skin exposing bone as he whispers an
incantation... As the acid finally eats its way through the his body he
falls to the ground DEAD.... But seemingly rises again, withstanding death,
while still in the grasp of The Hand of Darkness.

Malichi flies up in the air as the darkness consumes him. The Demon and Elf
merge into one soul, one spirit, one flesh as the process rips at Malichi's
skin, tearing his flesh and blood flying everywhere. He is scarred for
eternity in mind, flesh, and soul!!!


The witnesses gasp in horror as Malichi Necrose steps out of the barrier of
protection, revealing his scarred body, pieces of flesh hang from his body
like an undead corpse walking the land, one eye glows red, the other black
as night.

Yesssssssssssssss...... The ritual is complete..... The mistress is
please....The power of darkness reigns!!!!




Writer: Geirhart

Date Mon Aug 12 18:11:50 2019




Writer: Kaerick

Date Mon Aug 12 20:46:16 2019




Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Aug 13 07:01:24 2019




Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Aug 13 07:08:01 2019




Writer: Mercerion

Date Tue Aug 13 09:27:41 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn

Date Tue Aug 13 22:01:13 2019




Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Aug 14 10:38:23 2019




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Wed Aug 14 13:32:33 2019




Writer: Cieran

Date Wed Aug 14 13:36:27 2019




Writer: Daalegoth

Date Wed Aug 14 16:22:49 2019




Writer: Vittkis

Date Wed Aug 14 16:45:50 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn

Date Wed Aug 14 21:41:21 2019




Writer: Geirhart

Date Thu Aug 15 16:22:51 2019




Writer: Cieran

Date Thu Aug 15 17:09:54 2019




Writer: Aliera

Date Fri Aug 16 14:12:58 2019




Writer: Caireall
Date Fri Aug 16 17:37:05 2019




Writer: Malichi
Date Mon Aug 19 23:33:56 2019

To All Imm RP Conclave

Subject The Training of the Magi: The Dark Art of Necromancy



While it is the purpose of the Conclave to protect and teach magic across
the world of Algoron, many outside the Conclave of Magic consider the art of
Necromancy to be evil in origin. A power used only to destroy and pervert
the cycle of nature that exists within the realm.

To prosper one sometimes must take a step back, as one step back and two
steps forward leads to unimaginable power!!!

I must train my body to be more sturdy. I must learn how to ride these dead
bone ridden dragons. Yesssssss..... I will concentrate.... Focus my
energies on these tasks!!!


Malichi Necrose of the Black Robes kneels before the Dark Mistress Drakarra,
Queen of Darkness and pleads for enhanced learning, pleads for enhancement
and yurns for improvement. He walks the roads of Algoron, seeking tests and
tribulations, seeking a challenge. Malichi hardens his soul as he defeats
small monsters, hardens his desire as he seeks more challenge. He roams the
land in seek of more... More challenge... More blood... More power!!!

The demonic elf locks himself in the Library of the Black Robes. He opens
the Necromantic Books to further his knowledge, to seek out what was known
but forgotten, to seek out what is unknown but now rememebered.

Loud thuds and worried tones can be heard coming from outside the door.
Malichi focuses himself, he strips down to a minimal cloth wrapped around
his waist as bells can be heard coming from nowhere. A chant permeates the
library as a darkness enters the room and the scent of death, disease and
rot fills the air.

Have I not given you enough???? You wish to learn more do you?? Take what
you want little elf. The only obstacle is yourself. Show me your sacrifice
for the darkness!!!!


Malichi places himself in a circle of black candles as the full Black Moon
reaches high sanction. He quickly runs a blade across his chest as blood
pours out, pooling in the center of the circle. He stabs his gut, reaching
out to pull out his entrails as he reaches his blood and flesh covered hands
toward the sky seeking her blessing.

Yes dark one. May my magic flow through you as you exalt me with your glory
and power!!


Malichi is flung upward to the roof of the library as books spin All around
him. A black mist can be seen leaving these books and surrounding the elf's
head.

Yessssss.... The paaaaain..... The pppppooooooowwwwwweeeerrrr!!!!! {


He falls to the ground as the mist leaves the room, the chants dissipate and
disappear. He stands up, eyes focused, ready for the challenge that
awaits.....

Malichi Necrose will sharpen his thougths and magical skills under the
tutelage of the Wizards of the Conclave to further increase his power and
knowledge of the dark art of Necromancy.

May the death, disease, flesh, bone and rot lead him well......




Writer: Thistlewick

Date Wed Aug 21 13:56:48 2019

To Carrionmaw All Clan

Subject Heroic Vision Quest! I need to eat what?!



The heroic kender moved like a shadow through the Blackwood. He left no
trace of his passing and the animals took no notice. His was a mission of
epic proportion! No small feat...

'Nope still not right! I really need a sidekick to write down my
adventures.
' said the kender to himself.

He had spent a week in the Blackwood preparing. He made a nice tent and put
his eel, Jeffers, on a stump in his bowl. He had to make his little lodge
hot so he had been gathering up All manner of wood. The instructions said
he needed to eat the eel, then use the incense, and get hot under the canvas
to open his spirit so he can travel to Draco. However the kender had become
rather fond of the old eel.

'Alright, well the dragon said to eat you but he didn't say the WHOLE eel
so.. Maybe just a bit of tail! '
said the kender to the bowl.

Gingerly taking the bowl and eel off the stump, Thistlewick headed to a
nearby stream. Taking the eel in one hand and a knife in the other, he cut
a bit of the eel's tail off and let the fish go into the water.

'Bye Jeffers, hope you find a nice Mrs. Jeffers! ' cried the kender.

Heading back to his tent he started a large campfire outside and created a
small pit inside his to place the coals he would use. The he had a bit of
supper and made sure he put on his finest armors if he was going to meet the
astral king of dragons. However his best clothing was just his normal
clothing with some tears mended.

Once there was a healthly bit of coals, he took a shovel from his pack and
moved them inside the tent. He started sweating from the heat and effort.
Then, lighting the incense on a coal, he sat down and waited. He hated
waiting. Especially in a hot, cramped, smelly tent wearing his best
clothes!

Soon he felt light headed and wondered how Jeffers was doing All alone in
the world.

'I am fine Thissssslewick! Now letssss go! ' said a voice.

There hovering above the kender was a large eel with a piece of tail
missing. He looked around and noticed he was floating over his own body!

'Whoohoo!! I am flying! Look at me! ' exclaimed the kender.

'Grab my tail and off we will go! '

With a last look at his body, Thistlewick grabbed the eel's tail and floated
into the star it sky.




Writer: Aliera

Date Sun Aug 25 23:37:37 2019




Writer: Aliera

Date Sun Aug 25 23:40:18 2019




Writer: Cieran

Date Mon Aug 26 08:47:09 2019




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Mon Aug 26 08:47:46 2019




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Mon Aug 26 09:00:37 2019




Writer: Aliera

Date Mon Aug 26 10:19:44 2019




Writer: Leylani

Date Mon Aug 26 12:08:32 2019




Writer: Nymaya
Date Mon Aug 26 17:18:44 2019

To All ( RP Imm )

Subject The Twists of Fate



She walked among the carnage of Pan-Toll and felt...nothing.

It was easy to understand the anger, grief, and surprise on the faces of the
Althainians and Arkanians, but she couldn't feel it.

It was familiar though so she clung to that. She had walked among the
Dungeon, she had fought beside the brutes of Bloodlust once and knew their
methods.

Blood dripped from her staff, splattered her armor, her face, and clotted in
her hair. Her dark blue eyes were narrowed but made vivid amongst the red.
She looked at herself in the mirror-sheen of the water and felt...nothing.

The similarity to then and now should have been disturbing maybe, but it was
not. What had been different then had been her need for purpose. Where the
Dungeon had failed to fill it with mindless slaughter, Eclipse had offered
her everything; Trust, friendship, family and an overarching goal she truly
believed in.

No one had foreseen Necrucifer's fall.

For her, the world had stopped with Reklah's passing and she was still
waiting for it to move again. She hadn't wanted that but grief was what it
was, and her daughter had pushed her into a new sort of rage to accompany
it. There hadn't been time to catch her breath.

She stood by the pile of bodies that had been cut down, All minions of
Bloodlust, and turned slowly to observe the fallen buildings. The smoking
craters in the streets, the crumbled walls, the mangled corpses of refugees.
So many minute details to paint a desperate and catastrophic picture. What
they had done, perchance, was poke a waking Empire.

The wind lifted, drifting through the streets, carrying the scent of blood
and destruction. It caught at her hood, drawing it back, and she closed her
eyes, feeling rage finally crack the nothing.

It was a strange twist of fate that this was the first place Reklah had
taken her, to teach her of Necrucifer, and the last place he had wanted to
revisit with her. It -would- have been rage or grief. It would have been
Pan-Toll they destroyed..

She opened her eyes, the depths of her emotion finally slipping through in
the angry breaths that slid between clenched jaws, and found herself gazing
down on demonic eyes in the blood that had pooled on the ground.

Calm descended All at once. Clenched fists released, tightened shoulders
relaxed, her breathing quieted and the beat of her heart slowed. She felt
again the memory of the secondary thrum and heat that had soothed and calmed
when she wore the Abyss Stone. Even the memory of its weight around her
neck, against her chest, returned.

Champion, Keeper, Remnant, Exile, Widow.

The edge of the blade was swaying and as she turned to leave, she idly
wondered where it might fall and whether she would end up beneath it.




Writer: Vincent

Date Mon Aug 26 20:59:05 2019

To All Shadow Verminasia Nehtur ( Necrucifer Cayenna Ampersand RP )

Subject The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: With Friends Like These pt. 1



Dreams were not unbeknownst to Xaran'xaxes, yet they were an unfamiliar
experience All the same.

He of course had heard many of their accounts and witnessed them through the
memories of Vincent de Vere. But, as a creature previously unacquainted
with slumber, the archfiend had never produced one of his own. So came a
wave of momentary confusion when he looked over his form to see that it was
no longer that of the human shell he had possessed, but his own terrifyingly
glorious natural state.

A sharp pain prodded his side. He paid it no mind, for before him now was
his master and creator Necrucifer, whose presence he had not basked in since
his initial conception by the Master of Darkness. Here the great god did
not appear as those avatars seen upon Algoron, nor even as the corporeal
being which sat upon the Abyssal Throne, but as a nebula of pure, divine
energy. Wordlessly the deity beckoned his creation to follow.

Through a great void they floated, the archfiend in tow, until they hovered
amidst the ethereal sea. From here, with unparalleled clarity, Xaran'xaxes
viewed All of Creation. The infinitely many, boundless layers of the Abyss
now seemed small and finite. The tens of planes surrounding Algoron were
but minuscule specks, suspended in their rotation around the material domain
by the grey haze of Kwainin's Vale. Far across the expanse was the glimmer
of Heaven, the Light's radiant presence now diminished to naught but a
faintly glowing mote.

Another sharp pain stabbed at his side and, like the first, went ignored.
The archfiend's gaze over Algoron then magnified such that he could see its
surface. He recognized the oceans and the mountains. Her greater lakes and
rivers and their tributaries. Her lush, green, and bountiful forests and
jungles. The sand upon the beaches and All the makings and footprints of
the mortals who inhabited the realm. Yet there was no strife to be found
here. No opposition. No temples, sites, or effigies of worship devoted to
a deities other than his Lord Necrucifer. Life's sufferings persisted, as
was the balance of things, but they did not do so in excess.

The mortals' voices reached his ears now and, without exception, All thanks
and praise was directed to the Father of Darkness. The Father of All. "The
Savior of Creation". Again, pain jabbed between his ribs. Again, it was
disregarded. It was inconsequential to the scene before him the future of
the "prophecy" fulfilled. Another strange sensation washed over the
archfiend. One he had never felt before: peace. A sense of completion.

Then Necrucifer bid his creation's eyes upward, outward, far past the bounds
of All Creation. In the distance Xaran'xaxes saw them drifting ever closer.
Mindflayers and beholders, kaorti and abhorrents, aberrations All and their
own masters, the "old" gods. The Far Realm. The place, he supposed, from
whence his own master came, summoned so long ago by that entity known only
as the "High God" to, alongside his brothers, create Order from Chaos.

They were coming. Coming to bring ruin and madness to this long sequestered
paradise. But Xaran'xaxes felt no fear, no trepidation before this
previously unbeatable foe, whom until now even the gods could only imprison,
not destroy. Necrucifer had absorbed the power of Austinian and Kwainin
both, as only he had the ambition to do so. They stood ready to vanquish
these invaders, these would-be usurpers, to safeguard Creation once and for
all.

In an instant, All before him was sucked into oblivion. Another spike of
pain wracked his side and, just like that, his dream concluded. It was a
good dream, Xaran'xaxes thought in the brief time it took for de Vere's eyes
to flutter open, even if it was his first and, likely, his last.




Writer: Vincent
Date Mon Aug 26 21:00:20 2019

To All Shadow Verminasia Nehtur ( Necrucifer Cayenna Ampersand RP )

Subject The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: With Friends Like These pt. 2



When next the archfiend regained his consciousness and vision, he saw the
source of his pain at once before him. Not lacking in patience or the
desire to do so, a succubus had been prodding him with a red-hot iron
attempting to wake him from his slumber.

Having succeeded, she bared a fanged grin, her face alight with equal parts
malicious joy and fond familiarity. Casually, she waved at the flesh-bound
fiend securely suspended from above by a length of barbed chain.

"My horned lord, awake at last! Good and grandest of mornings, sunshine, "
the demoness remarked, her jovial voice laden with sarcasm.

The vast, circular room seemed smaller than it really was, its spaciousness
broken up by gold capped and banded pillars of white marble which reached
upward to meet the domed ceiling high overhead. The floors likewise
appeared comprised of marble, these colored hues of crimson and earthy
brown. Fine and semi-transparent silks hung draped between the pillars and
along the walls, svelte chains of precious metals woven around them. The
scents of exotic, burning herbs and incense filled the air. A soft, ambient
glow filled the chamber and the hallway beyond, produced by hovering,
magical orbs of white light.

Xaran'xaxes knew his surroundings at once. He had visited here many times
before. It was no dungeon - not in the traditional sense, for more
conventional dungeons did lie in wait beyond and beneath the citadel's
boundaries - but a chamber within the "pleasure" palace of his erstwhile
consort Taizavzel, a hell-maiden of Devion, the Lord of Deceit. He was now
within Shendilavri, the 570th layer of the Abyss and far from his place of
capture.

Once comprised of endless fields of quivering flesh, its surface had been
reshaped and molded into a practical paradise of green meadows and exquisite
cities over the course of his existence. The privileged few who came by way
of invitation found their every pleasurable desire satisfied, though never
fully sated. The rest came as prisoners, stored in oubliettes some stories
below the surface or far beyond the cities' view.

"How long have I slumbered? ", the archfiend questioned his captor. De
Vere's ensnared body swung in painfully slow circles at the chain's mercy.
If he was angered or distraught at his present state, his face did not show
it nor did his voice reflect it.

The succubus waited until he was once more facing her to respond. It was an
unfair question in this realm of perpetual sunset, in these infernal planes
where time held little sway. She bobbed her horned head back and forth,
considering a decent answer before replying, "By the mortal dial? Six days
and nights I'd say.
"

At this, Xaran'xaxes twisted de Vere's face into a sneer. He was wasting
precious moments.

"What of Algoron-time? ", he asked for clarity. The succubus chuckled
gleefully and shrugged her slender shoulders.

"How should I know? ", she quipped, "I am but a humble attendant... Unlike
you, I've no care for the mortals and their plane, save their succulent
souls and those odd delights which find their way here... Now, let me go
and fetch my mistress. You must be absolutely pining
to see her after all
this time!
"

De Vere's eyes rolled at the sarcasm. "Yes. Absolutely pining, " the
archfiend replied sarcastically in turn.

Followed by a devious smirk, the succubus blew a kiss to her fellow fiend
before turning to leave. She knew full well the demon lord's history with
her own dark lady.




Writer: Vincent

Date Mon Aug 26 21:02:36 2019

To All Shadow Verminasia Nehtur ( Necrucifer Cayenna Ampersand RP )

Subject The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: With Friends Like These pt. 3



Xaran'xaxes was not left long to stew in his own thoughts before
Taizavzel's arrival.

Clad in garments befitting a seductress, her flawless flesh shone like
silver, her long, tumbling hair crimson as the blood used to polish her
skin. Like many demonkin, her hands ended in clawed digits and from her
back spanned a pair of majestic, leathery wings. She stood nigh fifteen
feet tall, dwarfed by the archfiend's natural form, yet towering above the
human body he now possessed.

She was one of the Dark Pantheon's most beautiful creations and, as all
hell-maidens, one of the most deadly. Her shrieks could shatter ear drums
and scramble lesser minds but, to her former consort, she spoke with the
familiarity and softness of a lover. And yet, the exchange about to take
place was reminiscent of a quarreling, long married couple.

"Xaran'xaxes! ", Taizavzel beamed at him, her voice musical as if oblivious
to his current state of captivity. Her face soured in a mock pout, "I'm
quite cross with you, you know, what with abandoning me for so long... Six
centuries and you've naught done so much as write.
"

The archfiend glared up at the hell-maiden with a scowl and seethed, "You
betrayed
me, wretch! "

The demoness raised her palms defensively against the accusation, "How was I
supposed to know Gorsythe would toss you into the Wells of Darkness of all
places? So far as I knew, that wasn't supposed to happen. He told me he
just wanted the eye a fair enough desire and request, I thought, given
everything we three achieved together.
"

She was met with silent contempt and a brooding frown. Nine thousand,
nine-hundred and ninety-nine times out of ten, the hell-maiden would not
have cared. In this one instance, however, it prompted her to continue.
Her lithe, yet powerful arms folded across her midriff before she continued
to elaborate her defense.

"I am sorry, lover. Truly I am. " Taizavzel's lips curled into an
uncharacteristic frown, as if to cement her sincerity, "Powerful as I may
be, you know full well I am out of your league and his, so to speak... It
was in my best interest to remain... Well, neutral, in this whole sordid
affair.

Had I told you of Gorsythe's plans, he'd have slain me if and when he
succeeded. Had I not, who's to say your reaction would have been any
better? At least in the moment.. I know full well your thought processes,
darling, and how swift you are to deliver your wrath - for better or worse.
"

Silence still. The archfiend considered her words. They made sense, but
did little to alleviate the sting of betrayal. Perhaps she was
unaware of
the extent of Gorsythe's disdain for his fellow demon lord, even if she knew
full well the depths of his ambition. It mattered not at present, confined
and so lacking in strength as Xaran'xaxes now was.

"Besides. If it was my earnest intent to see to your demise, I'd have
handed you over just as soon as my ladies dragged you in.
" Taizavzel
paused, raising a clawed forefinger to her lips to bite thoughtfully at its
tip.

"What's with the meat suit, anyway? ", she queried with a chortle, her
charm returning with a devilish smirk.

"Release me," Xaran'xaxes demanded in response.

The hell-maiden's smirk gave way to a wide grin, self-derived amusement
found in her own neglect of her consort's stymied state. With a snap of her
fingers the chains unraveled, unceremoniously dumping de Vere's body to the
ground.

The archfiend rose to his feet, stretching and twisting to re-align those
bones broken or dislodged from their sockets from his fall into Pazunia.
The flesh had healed but the bindings had, to this point, prevented the
shell's full recovery. At once he went to tug at the collar digging into de
Vere's neck and, at once, Taizavzel sharply clicked her tongue against the
roof of her mouth to stop him.

"Tut! I would not do that if I were you. Not yet, " she warned.

Treacherous she may have been, but foolish she was not, and so for the time
Xaran'xaxes obeyed.




Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Aug 27 09:06:37 2019




Writer: Geirhart

Date Tue Aug 27 09:38:54 2019




Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Aug 28 15:03:52 2019




Writer: Aliera

Date Thu Aug 29 11:46:38 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn

Date Thu Aug 29 16:06:13 2019




Writer: Cieran

Date Fri Aug 30 07:33:17 2019




Writer: Valdaris

Date Fri Aug 30 09:49:39 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn

Date Fri Aug 30 21:09:48 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Fri Aug 30 21:13:11 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Fri Aug 30 21:30:18 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Fri Aug 30 21:39:04 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Fri Aug 30 21:39:49 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Fri Aug 30 21:39:53 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Fri Aug 30 22:01:08 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Fri Aug 30 22:01:13 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Fri Aug 30 22:01:18 2019




Writer: Malichi
Date Sat Aug 31 07:33:34 2019

To All Conclave RP Imm

Subject The Training of the Necromancer: The Search for Self



It has been months since the ritual combined elf and demon. The scars
are still fresh, both physical and otherwise. Malichi Necrose walks the
tower improving his craft, training in the dark art of Necromancy, as he
contemplates his existence....

What am I now? I don't feel.... Normal.... I don't feel right....

And why should he be? His body was literally ripped to pieces and put back
together with the... Essence?.... Soul?... Flesh?.... Of the demon.
He's no elf... No demon.... Is he a lich? He is what he is. A damaged
soul looking for truth. He was closer to death than ever before.... Maybe
also closer to actually living?

As his studies continue he realizes in order to understand himself, in order
to seek deeper meaning of his existence, perhaps there are others in the
realm he can leaen from, others he can contrast himself against. Demons
have not been seen in the realm for generatins..... But there are other
entities in the realm of similar darkness. Are the stories true??? The
demonic undesd who feast on the blood of others. There are rogues who
wander the dungeon who fit this description. Others as well.

Are they who I think they are?? Can they provide the context I desire to
understand myself? What can I learn..... How do they exist?... Where do
they come from?..... What are they? I must learn these things to help me
understand myself.


But Malichi seeks knowledge not easily obstained as there are those who
protect the undead who rule the night at All costs. Many of these beings
wish to remain hidden. So he must preserve their secrets, keep them hidden
in the darkness, protect their ways...... While conducting his exploration?
The task is not easy for they may not wish to be known, much less be prodded
with such questions.

It may end in dissapointment as it may be fruitless. He may have to
discover other means of determining his existence and what he is. But until
then............ The search continues.....




Writer: Kulek

Date Sat Aug 31 19:01:03 2019

To Kzuul'yk Shadow Verminasia All

Subject The State of Things



My son,

Should you even claim me as father that is, but at least you carry the
family name with pride. I cannot justify my actions, I can not return your
mother to life, though I am glad you escaped my descent into dishonor and
insanity.

There are many who would seek to undo the damage their fathers have done.
Correct the mistakes of the past. Seek them out.

I am beyond saving, beyond honor, my only salvation will be the true death.
I pray it is at least you that grants it to me.

Kulek Sho'Ghul
Betrayer




Writer: Valdaris
Date Sun Sep 1 11:21:44 2019




Writer: Valdaris
Date Mon Sep 2 10:49:12 2019




Writer: Malichi
Date Mon Sep 2 16:27:19 2019

To All Conclave RP Imm

Subject A Search For Self: Vampirism



Malichi Necrose seeks knowledge which is typically protected with utmost
secrecy. He searches for truth. The truth regarding the nature of
Vampirism. He seeks this out not from a lust for power, but of a desire for
understanding his own demonic turmoil and existence.

To this end, he sought out a Slayer, because who but a Slayer would have
knowledge of the whereabouts of those who hunt for blood in the night?
Through the Slayer's direction Malichi found what he was looking for..... A
Vampire. What follows are the notes and conclusions based on their
conversation.

Interview with an Ancient Dwarven Vampire:

The host explains while most in the realm see Vampires as Demons inhabiting
corpses he is not dead. He see's it as an internal struggle with the host
and the Demon fighting for control. In fact he became a Vampire as a result
of an experiment to test a Necromancer's control of what was thought of as
an undead creature, the Vampire. The Vampire in kind turned the Dwarf.

I also have been the subject of a similar Demonic struggle, but this one
did not result in Vampirism. Perhaps because it was more organic or
symbiotic in nature and did not require the intervention of a Vampire to
turn a host.

But..... Perhaps the Demon who infested my soul simply failed to turn me.
Maybe he has been trapped for so long within me trying to do that which he
failed the first time.
And now this deep sadness... This feeling of being
lost... Seeking the understanding of self... Seeking the truth to my
existence..... Means the ritual meant to bind Elf snd Demon simply pushed
him deeper into my soul.... He remains there..... Calling out.... Trying
to finish the job he started......


The Dwarven Vampire continues as he explains that Vampirism is dangerous,
and those who seek it should be prepared to die and no longer be welcome
where they once were. The host explains how he is no longer welcome in his
homeland due to the Demon he struggles to control. If the Demon completely
takes over then the host is no more. The consciousness would be completely
replaced with the Demon. This causes many to shun the Vampire as if he
cannot be trusted.

My struggles with the Demon Necrose is noted for causing distrust if not
outright disgust. Under the Demon's control The DOOM was set into action
spreading disease, fog, and undead across the land in an attempt by the
Demon to gain full control. Perhaps then it is better to let the Demon have
control? If the struggle is a mortal vice the perhaps a better sense of
peace and fulfillment can be reached by kneeling before the Demon? Postrate
oneself, bearing your soul wide open and letting the Demon envelop you.
Perhaps this is the way to peace.


The Dwarven Vampire explains the difference between Vampires and the typical
undead that Necromancers control. A Necromancer controls the dead, the
corpses, risen up under his control. It's like a corpse who is dreaming.
The dead have no control over the dream and is just following along. A
Vampire is alive, but the host dies but remains alive under the control of
the Demon. He has control of the dream because he is not a corpse, he is
alive not dead.

Yessssss...... This explains my struggles. I am seeking to control which
cannot be controlled. The saddness, the searching, the discover of self.
All is already there, peace is already there.... I just need to let it in.
Let the Demon spread. Let it out. Allow it to consume my soul. Then I
will have peace.


The answer to understanding and peace may lie in giving in, sacrificing
oneself to the darkness....

Regardless of the outcome, this is a path I must pursue farther.


And follow it he shall.... To nothing?.... To Vampirism?.... Or to his
gruesome death?..... Only time will tell.... But until then.... The
search continues....




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Mon Sep 2 16:51:48 2019




Writer: Aliera

Date Mon Sep 2 20:43:40 2019




Writer: Rasavadi

Date Mon Sep 2 20:48:01 2019

To Verminasia Shadow Eclipse Crelius All Imm RP

Subject Lost City - The Time to Kill



Rasavadi sat in an alcove on a cliff above the monastery wrapped in his
midnight blue cloak. Looking around he knew he wasn't fully alone. The
white could be seen circling. Laying down wave after wave of dragon fear.
Despite his near constant exposure to one first born or the other, even he
wasn't immune and could feel his skin crawl as she flew overhead.

Hidden further were Draphinimina and out there somewhere was Nymaya his
Keeper. Ever silent, ever watching. Solace, if any were to be found, lied
in the knowledge that they were there. Watching, waiting, ready to spring
into action as soon as he lept from the ledge.

He looked down at the apparently sleeping monastery. Asleep they were not
though. Movement, ever so slight, could be seen from the shadows. All that
protected them from our forces is a shield, a shield Rasavadi wasn't
convinced they even had. He had seen no true monks come to or fro over the
past month of observations. None of the tell tail hand gestures or quiet
pauses to open a path through the shield like at the Serpent Temple.

Fashioning a flash bomb to an arrow with a small pouch like kite he
shouldered his shield and spiked a halberd into the snow. "Either the
shield is there and my life ends now, or its not and theirs ends now.
" he
whispered as he loosed the arrow to signal the offensive.




Writer: Rasavadi

Date Mon Sep 2 21:24:41 2019

To Verminasia Shadow Eclipse Crelius All Imm RP

Subject Lost City - The Time to Kill (2)



Tossing down the bow he ran for the ledge, grabbed the halberd and
descended upon the sleepy guard below.

Falling through the air, target in sight, Rasavadi had but one thought. The
shield. He had touched the shield surrounding the Serpent Temple once
before. Once was enough. The shock from it coursed through his innards,
and while it did no damage, it left no question that he wouldn't need a cod
piece any longer should he continue to do so.

He was just a few feet above the scribe when the makeshift flare of his went
off. Just enough time to register that this was the least of his worries
before being split in two by the halberd and sheer force of Rasavadi's
armored weight coming behind it.

Grabbing his shield he burst through the door with just enough time to hear
the war cry "RESTINGUERE SOLEM" being bellowed by his troops, foremost
amongst them was Nymaya and Tamaska.




Writer: Zisuli

Date Mon Sep 2 21:43:23 2019




Writer: Zisuli
Date Mon Sep 2 21:43:26 2019




Writer: Nymaya
Date Tue Sep 3 03:53:16 2019

To All Verminasia Shadow Eclipse Imm RP

Subject Lost City - The Time to Kill (3)


A month of creeping through unnatural cold and rough terrain riddled with
threats had left her edgy, but she was nothing if not tenacious and battle
hardened - even when she was struggling and angry.

Would that her passions had simply settled on battle..

Despite the anger and pain that coursed through her, she held herself still
and she waited. Waited for the signal she knew was coming while they all
did their best to weather the dragon fear.

As always, even as the flare went off, Rasavadi managed to astound her. For
as frail as he sometimes appeared, the yinn was surprisingly powerful as
evidenced by the body of the scribe that he cleaved before barreling through
the door of the Monastery.

She was aware of Tamaska nearby as they moved in quickly behind their leader
but as the cry of 'Restinguere Solem' rang from the troops, she struck the
first of what would be many scribes and the immediate faded into an enraged
rush of fluid battle.

What they were, who they were, didn't matter. If they had weapons, if they
ran, if they fought back. None of it mattered.

Only the sound of her breath, only each motion flowing into the next. Only
the spray of blood, the crack of bone, the cry of pain and the stench of the
dying and the dead.

She rode the last one down, her knees gripping his midsection while her
hands gripped his head. Demonfire erupted, engulfing the scribe's skull
while she dug her thumbs into his eye sockets and let loose a primal cry
that dwarfed his dying screams.

The scribe was dead, the stench of burning flesh an overpowering addition to
the obvious, when she finally looked up, breathing hard with rage. Pockets
of battle still persisted but nothing else attacked her and to the touch of
Tamaska, she stood and accepted her staff back.

Someone asked her quietly if she was okay and though she desired to lie, she
knew better. The blood that covered her, the wounds she had taken, were
answer enough so she simply shook her head and went looking for more.

They needed to clear the monastery and then hope they could find something
worthwhile.




Writer: Malichi

Date Tue Sep 3 10:50:04 2019

To All Conclave RP Imm

Subject Vampirism: The Sacrifice


As Malichi Necrose continues his search and begins to come to an
understanding of his existence he is approached by an Ancient Ogre Vampire
who was informed of his thirst for knowledge. Below is a summary of Notes
and Conclusions based on their conversation:

A Conversation With an Ancient Vampire

Malichi questions the Ancient Ogre Vampire about the meaning of Vampirism
and explains his own struggles with the Demon. The Ancient Vampire wonders
about these struggles and questions Malichi's worthiness. And if he wishes
to become a Vampire. If Malichi struggles now he will struggle before the
Vampire Queens. To seek the Queens, to seek Vampirism is a long and
difficult process. You must not struggle for the Demon to take hold.

I have fought and struggled for too long and for what gain? A scarred face?
Confusion? Turmoil within my soul? The struggle will continue as I fight
the inevitable. Perhaps I should struggle no more.
Maybe then I will have
peace.


The Vampire then questions what Malichi has to offer the Demon? Malichi
offers things which have mortal value but is then reminded that the servant
does not barter. A sacrifice must be made. One must give up something he
holds dear. One must sacrifice his soul.

Will this finally bring me peace? Let the Demon complete his task?
Yessssss.... After generations of failure I will kneel before the Demon
Let him comsume my soul then WE shall be at peace.

I must let it be known!!

Malichi spreads word of his intent in hopes of awkening the Demon. And, in
hopes of generating trust and good favor with the Ancient Ogre Vampire so he
may be his guide on this long journey.....

..... Perhaps searching is futile, perhaps one who seeks will never find
that which doesn't wish to be found....

While Malichi is in the tower readying himself for the journey..... A
darkness overcomes him as visions are seen disappearing down the corridor
and calling out from the darkness.........




Writer: Leylani

Date Tue Sep 3 11:28:38 2019




Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Sep 3 13:47:14 2019




Writer: Malichi

Date Tue Sep 3 21:12:50 2019

To All Conclave Imm RP

Subject The Sacrifice: Visions of a Lost Soul



Who are you?!? I must find you?!?! Why do you have a form but are
unseen? Why do you have a voice but are unheard?


Maybe Malichi is crazy? Hallucinating? Many in the realm assume the elf...
Or whatever he is these days.... Is just plain nuts. Since his
communication with the Ancient Ogre Vampire Malichi has seen strange
visions..... Perhaps it is a test.... Perhaps it is nothing more than a
trick!

The Ancient Ogre Vampire explains to Malichi that trying to find something
that does not wish to be found is pointless. Stop searching.

He laughs maniacally at Malichi as Malichi's mind drifts off into
madness....

These visions.... Disappearing into the darkness..... An entity that is
there but cannot be seen.... It speaks from the shadows but cannot be
heard. What is my purpose then if not to seek it? What is the way to
peace? To allow the Demon in? I shall kneel and open my soul. Await the
inevitable. Am I worthy? What if I am not? I must be strong in my
determination. Sacrifice which must be given.... Lay at the Altar of
Darkness and submit to the Demon.


But what if that is not enough?!!?! These visions.... I must
undertand.....


As Malichi's mind is lost to the darkness his thoughts spin in circles
wondering if the Demon will come. Perhaps the Demon already has? Perhaps
it never will?




Writer: Aliera

Date Tue Sep 3 22:14:41 2019




Writer: Aliera

Date Tue Sep 3 22:18:32 2019




Writer: Aliera

Date Tue Sep 3 22:24:06 2019




Writer: Aliera
Date Tue Sep 3 22:52:35 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Wed Sep 4 08:53:07 2019




Writer: Cieran
Date Wed Sep 4 11:04:48 2019




Writer: Mezlak
Date Wed Sep 4 19:40:04 2019

To All Althainia Bloodlust Vaestrasz Boof Mercerion ( Raije Imm RP Religion Tashio )

Subject Horn of Oblivion - Changing Paths



Mezlak paced the width of the Grand Hall in the temple. He glanced at
the statue of Raije each time he passed. It'd been a while, a long while,
since he'd been this troubled.

He had a plan for the Marauders. The pieces he needed for that plan had
almost been moved into position. The Army's two greatest enemies were lined
up, and nearly ready to be faced.

The board was shaping nicely to his plan, for once.

Then someone had come along and knocked the board over, with a horn.

Mezlak had not really had any intention of wanting to join this fight
between the Dungeon and Althainia. He wasn't trying to avoid getting
entangled in it, really. It was just something below his notice. Not
really worth his effort.

Mezlak saw no real gain in taking a side, other than loosing an important
piece in one of his other plans. It really wouldn't have taken much for
someone to convince him to join the Marauders to one side or the other.

That was until the Red came to him, All but demanding the Marauders fight
for the Dungeon. The Red might have even convinced him to join, if he
hadn't barked and belittled the Highlord like the Marauders were one of the
Dark Moon lackeys that jump whenever one of their Gods raises an eyebrow.
Now, Mezlak almost wanted to fight alongside Althainia just to spite the
Red.

The Chromatic, bloody hell, the whole Dark Pantheon seemed to think Raije's
Marauders were some wayward, shoe-kissing, worshipers of the Night.

Inhaling sharply, mostly to calm himself. Now wasn't the time to act
rashly, as he had a tendency to do when someone angered him. Inhaling
again, he stopped, turned to the statue and did something he hadn't done in
a long time.

He knelt and prayed.




Writer: Feldritch
Date Wed Sep 4 20:50:48 2019




Writer: Feldritch
Date Wed Sep 4 20:53:37 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Wed Sep 4 23:03:58 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Thu Sep 5 09:56:20 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Thu Sep 5 12:07:17 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Fri Sep 6 07:10:56 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Fri Sep 6 08:36:39 2019




Writer: Othander
Date Fri Sep 6 15:14:46 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Fri Sep 6 18:09:06 2019




Writer: Nymaya
Date Sat Sep 7 00:47:56 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Sat Sep 7 10:55:31 2019




Writer: Mercerion
Date Sat Sep 7 11:04:46 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Sat Sep 7 15:01:01 2019




Writer: Nymaya
Date Sat Sep 7 16:50:07 2019

To All Eclipse Shadow Verminasia ( Necrucifer Imm RP Cayenna )

Subject Lost City - Sidebar


She sat in remote silence while a cleric went about the healing process.
The gashes along her side and shoulder, down her arm and across her thigh,
were deep but nothing life threatening. The pain was a dull, throbbing ache
but easily displaced from her awareness.

The monastery was still being cleared but some of the troops had begun
dragging the bodies out to burn them. Blood stained the floor but sand had
been brought in to help clear it up, which only left reinforcing the ground
they had taken - and it was a lot of ground.

The monastery, situated on a high cliffside, wrapped up and around the steep
jut of land - looking as if it had grown out of the rock itself. Tall black
spires and archaic buildings appeared to have corrupted the land in an ever
widening spread that was pocketed and dusted with powdery snow. The
architecture, she noted with some admiration, was unlike anything she had
previously witnessed.

Questions burgeoned but there was no time to ask them. The place was
expansive and though their force had taken on a few additions, there was a
great deal of ground to cover yet.

Restlessness set in, but she had been ordered to let the cleric do his job
so she waited and when he finished, she rose to find Rasavadi. The Highlord
was coated in as much blood as she but just as dismissive of the fact.
Before a table he stood, piled with loose papers and books, though a
haphazard map lay open and he was staring at it intently.

"The monastery" She spoke quietly while observing it from the opposite side.
He made a non-committal sound of affirmation at her statement and circled an
area of the layout.

"What we want might be here" His tone was gruff, distracted, but settled on
what needed to happen next. "We look for anything that leads us to the
Codex. There's bound to be some historical accounts as well. Just maybe
we'll find out why Necrucifer dropped a meteor on Dae'tok and why this place
is infested with ghul."

She nodded and then looked up at him.

"I need a few hours, to visit the Basilica. I have a connection I need to
seek, prayers that need be spoken. I will return promptly to help sift
through this mess."

She turned to go but stopped when he called her name and when she turned to
meet his gaze, was again reminded why he was the Highlord. He could read
his people and she was no exception.

"Be careful, and come back to us Keeper."




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Sat Sep 7 18:17:18 2019




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Sun Sep 8 10:57:20 2019




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Sun Sep 8 11:10:04 2019




Writer: Vincent

Date Sun Sep 8 17:07:28 2019

To All Shadow Verminasia Nehtur ( Necrucifer Cayenna Ampersand RP )

Subject The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Xul'vidaan, Ambition's Reach pt. 1



"That dashing accessory around your neck is a suppression collar.
Normally we use it to capture and keep subdued our more powerful and unruly
"guests." In your
most fortunate circumstance, it appears to be the only
thing keeping that delectable mortal body from bursting like a boil.
"

Xaran'xaxes continued to finger and tug at the device around de Vere's
throat as Taizavzel explained its function with All the calm condescension
one would when teaching a child. The hell-maiden had since altered her form
to better match the present state of her consort's, shrinking nine-some feet
to stand just shorter than he. She admitted that, after the initial
amusement and irony of the situation had passed, it felt awkward to tower
over him so greatly.

"How does it work? ", the archfiend queried. It had not yet been invented,
or at least commonly used, since his initial departure from the Abyss.
Taizavzel slapped at his hand, prompting him to cease his fiddling, earning
a sharp, if impotent, glare in return.

"Stop playing with it, lest you explode, " she warned, unable to repress a
smirk at the thought, "To state it simply, the collar disrupts one's flow of
arcana 'twixt oneself and the Planes. I needn't explain the implications of
such and you can well observe its effectiveness for yourself.
"

Would that she did explain the "implications" in their entirety. Most
creatures of the Infernal Planes, Xaran'xaxes included, drew their power
from the vast oceans of ambient magic permeating the Outer Realms. Despite
his burning desire to ask more about these ramifications, and what they
potentially meant for the demon lord bound in mortal flesh, it would only
serve to further damage his already compromised standing. It was enough to
realize he was virtually powerless and at the hell-maiden's mercy.

"Now, my horned terror, this inquiring intellect longs for satiation: why
did you return?
", Taizavzel pressed.

"Why should I trust you? ", replied the archfiend in turn.

The question was, by and large, rhetorical, for only a fool truly trusted a
creation of the lord of lies and both of them knew it. Mortal ears would
never hear of it, but at one time Xaran'xaxes was such a fool. A lesson
hard learned and never to be repeated, at least so he swore.

"I don't suppose it'd be enough to tell you "we might have common goals in
mind", hmm?
", the demoness thoughtfully stroked her softly pointed chin
between two clawed fingers. She anticipated the archfiend's obvious
response and, followed by a congenial smile, offered to sweeten her
proposal.

"What if I were to give you a... Token of affection? Of apology! A gift
to change your ever so stubborn and overly wary mind?
", the hell-maiden's
brows shrugged in accentuation of her words.

At this the archfiend bellowed laughter, "What could you possibly give me to
"change my mind", Taizavzel?... What bauble could you ever
present me to
compensate for your perfidious, if not purely craven, acts against me?
"

The hell-maiden twined her crimson curls around a forefinger to accompany
her skyward gaze, perpetuating mock contemplation as her smile thinned to a
smirk, "Oh, I don't know... Your precious stick, perhaps? "

Taizavzel's glee rose alongside the confused, but inquisitive brow
Xaran'xaxes raised at the purposely vague description, "Ah! I mean, your
spear!... Or did you call it a lance? Perhaps a ranseur... I never was
the most astute at classifying weapons.
"

Her mirth reached its peak as the glimmer of realization dawned within the
demon lord's eyes.




Writer: Vincent

Date Sun Sep 8 17:08:49 2019

To All Shadow Verminasia Nehtur ( Necrucifer Cayenna Ampersand RP )

Subject The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Xul'vidaan, Ambition's Reach pt. 2



"Xul'vidaan? You have it?... How? Show it to me. "

Now Xaran'xaxes was willing to speak. Taizavzel had pressed the right
button and, to her credit, it did not take long to find. With a twirl of
her hand she tore open a hole in the fabric of the plane and, from this
pocket dimension which served as a vault, produced the archfiend's lance:
Xul'vidaan, Ambition's Reach.

Xaran'xaxes had long wielded the lance even before Taizavzel met him some
two-thousand years ago. Despite the longevity of their relationship the
question of how he constructed or obtained it never arose between them,
though it did not prevent All manner of wild theories and conjecture from
being formed.

Among the two most popular stories perpetuated by their lesser demonkin, the
first was that the ranseur's head was forged from the corrupted blades of
those first and few of Austinian's angels who dared to invade the Abyss,
then later tempered with the blood of those mortal paladins who followed.
That the haft, the majority of its length etched with demonic runes, was in
fact the bound essence of an erstwhile demon lord "Xul'vidaan" for whom the
lance was named and from whence its power came.

The other tale, while more simple and albeit just as likely as not, was that
the weapon was gifted to Xaran'xaxes by Necrucifer Himself upon the fiend's
maturation from a far more lowly form. A reward for his persistence and for
his ceaseless ambition, modeled after the Dark Father's own. Regardless of
its origin, Taizavzel had borne witness to its power and the feats achieved
with it enough times not to care of its source, only what it could do in the
right hands.

In battle Xaran'xaxes had wielded it both as a typical lance, carving and
piercing through flesh, chitin, and scale, as well as a projectile weapon,
discharging beams and blasts of destructive energy at varying, but often
lethal, range. With it, she had seen him absorb the essence of countless
felled demons, bestowing he and the weapon with ever growing might. At the
height of his and so the lance's power, it was capable of leveling rival
lords and landscapes alike.

Yet All power comes with a price and All things in Creation had their
limitations. Xul'vidaan was no exception. As the power of the lance grew,
so too did the necessity of the wielder's strength to use it. And as the
demon lord's power grew, so too did his hubris. Until eventually,
presumptuous of his invincibility, he discovered that he was far from
untouchable in the most damning of ways. Still, it was not until his escape
from the Abyss and the ensuing occupancy of Vincent de Vere's mortal body
that his most cherished possession became lost.

"Even as far as imps go, your little aide-de-camp is not so adept at
ensconcing items of power as I'm sure you hoped. Bless his little heart for
trying though
," Taizavzel answered in earnest, her words accompanied by hand
gestures and facial expressions that matched the facetiousness of her tone,
"Gorsythe and I - quite independently of one another, mind you - had him
shadowed after we heard of your antics with the Fatalites and subsequent
escape to Algoron.
"

Xaran'xaxes spat at the ground, still eagerly awaiting his lance, "And where
is Bebriax now?
"

"Ah. Gorsythe had him thrown into the Wells, alongside no small number of
demons who remained loyal to Mencius and Necrucifer after their deaths,
" at
this a frown tugged at Taizavzel's lips.

The archfiend could not tell if the displeasure was genuine, though he erred
on the side of caution and assumed it was not, "Of late he has been using
the most highly secured prison in All of the Abyss as his personal dungeon
when, for most of these demonkin, just about any cell would do. Talk about
abuse of access!
"




Writer: Vincent

Date Sun Sep 8 17:10:16 2019

To All Shadow Verminasia Nehtur ( Necrucifer Cayenna Ampersand RP )

Subject The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Xul'vidaan, Ambition's Reach pt. 3



Taizavzel shrugged away the thought alongside a smile and, with a curl of
her fingers, gently floated Xul'vidaan towards its owner who took hold of it
with visible delight. Much to her obscured and silent relief, the fiend's
exuberance was short lived at the faintly noticeable realization that he
could not command it as he once did, crippled as he so was.

"I pray being rescued from an untimely fate, withheld from your rival's
grasping hands, the return of your precious lance, AND the rest of my
cooperation thus far is enough to have earned me an answer to the question
I've asked, dear Xaran'xaxes,
" Taizavzel ticked off the givings on each
finger as they were listed aloud.

The playful cadence of the hell-maiden's voice had simmered away and it was
clear to Xaran'xaxes that both her patience and generosity were near their
end. It was likewise evident she wished to entreat some manner of favor in
return, given her unnecessary benevolence throughout the length of their
unexpected reunion.

"So it has, " the archfiend obstinately admitted. Though the breadth of his
lance's abilities remained locked away, it yet recognized its owner and had
shrunk to accommodate his smaller form, "Gorsythe has antagonized me for the
last time, even so far as to follow me to Algoron... I have come to destroy
him and reclaim the dragon's eye, and so permanently remove a thorn from my
side.
"

"As for this, " the archfiend gestured to the body he inhabited, "I intend
on returning to the Material Plane afterwards and require this mortal host
in order to do so. I do not expect your aid in this, but I do ask that you
do not serve to deter me from it.
"

Taizavzel smiled warmly at the words, pleased to hear the answer.

"Deter you from it? Oh, Xar, why ever would I? ", her voice was sweet upon
his ears once more, "In fact, I would very much like to help you see it
through.
"

Taizavzel's response came as some small shock to the archfiend, who tilted
de Vere's head and furrowed his brows, "Would you... And why is that? "

The hell-maiden beckoned her consort closer with a jerk of her head and he
complied. She first pressed her hand between the vessel's shoulders to urge
the fiend forwards and out of the chamber, later slipping her arms around
his free one once they had set in motion. The conversation continued as
they proceeded to the adjoining hallway.

"As I said. Since Necrucifer's fall and the Dark Lady's ascension, her
followers have grown ever bolder, our dear Gorsythe no exception to the
trend,
" Taizavzel's answer came slowly paced as they made their way through
the upper levels of her palace, passing through yet more arched halls and
common rooms occupied by the many succubi under her command and the even
greater number of high-profile guests they entertained within. More than
several heads turned to regard the pair with a questioning gaze throughout
the course of their casual stroll, yet none dared loose their inquiries
aloud.

"It is only a matter of time before that ravenous Drakkaran comes here,
seeking submission I've no desire to give,
" the two stopped as they reached
a balcony overlooking the grand city below and the green, rolling plains
beyond. The idyllic scenery seemed as far removed from the Infernal Planes
as could be, but any and All who visited knew it was just as steeped in
violence and sin.

The hell-maiden pressed a kiss against de Vere's cheek, intended for the
demon dwelling within, before releasing his arm. Both cast their gaze to
the horizon where the false sun hung forever low in the sky, bathing the
plane in everlasting dusk.

"I will help you reclaim your vengeance, my treasured consort, for the
outcome is both to our great benefit. However, in return for All that I can
offer and All that I will risk to see this errand through, there is one
prize I would claim for myself.
"




Writer: Vincent

Date Sun Sep 8 17:11:40 2019

To All Shadow Verminasia Nehtur ( Necrucifer Cayenna Ampersand RP )

Subject The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Xul'vidaan, Ambition's Reach pt. 4



The archfiend's gaze broke from the sunset to look sidelong at the
demoness beside him, who in turn reflected his stare.

"Along with the eye, he also seized your whip, " she referred to the Lash of
Razirath, the third and final artifact Xaran'xaxes wished to reclaim during
his sojourn home.

Just as the lance Xul'vidaan, it too was an infernal weapon of some renown,
if of much less mysterious origin and raw power. This Xaran'xaxes had won
after the successful conquest of Nethuria, the 651st layer of the Abyss,
after smiting its then-ruler Razirath, spawn of the demon lord Vucarik, the
Consort of Chains.

With every strike the lash flayed away one's endurance and vigor, power of
will, and desire to resist. To be ensnared by it resulted in total
domination from which few lesser creatures were able to escape. But this
weapon, unlike the lance, was not so fussy of who wielded it. Perhaps, the
fiend thought, it would be for the best to keep it out of Algoron where it
might potentially fall into meddlesome, mortal hands.

"If and when we vanquish him, " Taizavzel continued for posterity alone,
"The lash is All I ask for in return. Do we have a deal, Xaran'xaxes? "

Their eyes remain locked as the archfiend weighed the proposition, his
gloomy countenance met with her winning smile. Their faces were as night
and day, sun and moon.

"We have a deal, Taizavzel, " came the demon's response without great delay.
He well realized the benefits of her help and the perhaps insurmountable
challenges he would face without it.

Taizavzel's face glowed in response, "Splendid! The archfiend of Necrucifer
and the hell-maiden of Devion working hand-in-hand once again. You shan't
regret it.

Now, All that remains before we get started is to seal the pact. Normally a
contract signed in blood or a simple kiss would do, but given our history
and long time apart, I had something... More intimate in mind.
"

The proposition came with a wink alongside a devilish smirk. The
archfiend's lack of protest was as good as acquiescence.

The hell-maiden took her consort by his free hand and gave it a gentle tug,
"Let us retire for the proverbial eve and resume planning on the supposed
tomorrow. You've an arduous journey ahead.
"

And so, in this plane of everlasting twilight, the two absconded into
privacy for several hours at least. These were to be the archfiend's final
moments of respite for many long months to come.




Writer: Leylani

Date Sun Sep 8 23:28:26 2019




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Mon Sep 9 08:37:59 2019




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Mon Sep 9 11:40:13 2019




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Tue Sep 10 05:30:16 2019




Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Sep 10 09:04:36 2019




Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Sep 10 09:07:53 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn

Date Tue Sep 10 14:32:08 2019




Writer: Vittkis

Date Tue Sep 10 14:33:22 2019




Writer: Vincent

Date Tue Sep 10 17:21:04 2019




Writer: Vincent

Date Tue Sep 10 17:22:36 2019




Writer: Vincent

Date Tue Sep 10 17:24:02 2019




Writer: Geirhart

Date Tue Sep 10 21:22:44 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Tue Sep 10 21:35:50 2019




Writer: Mercerion
Date Tue Sep 10 23:07:45 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Tue Sep 10 23:21:55 2019




Writer: Nymaya
Date Wed Sep 11 07:55:49 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Wed Sep 11 09:07:06 2019




Writer: Safin
Date Wed Sep 11 09:26:17 2019




Writer: Aliera
Date Wed Sep 11 14:28:06 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Wed Sep 11 17:08:04 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Thu Sep 12 07:17:32 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Thu Sep 12 16:07:24 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Thu Sep 12 16:11:09 2019




Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Thu Sep 12 16:13:41 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Thu Sep 12 19:54:00 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Fri Sep 13 16:29:39 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Fri Sep 13 22:11:13 2019




Writer: Valdaris
Date Sat Sep 14 10:02:58 2019




Writer: Sindis
Date Sat Sep 14 22:14:43 2019




Writer: Mercerion
Date Sun Sep 15 13:24:41 2019




Writer: Seiron
Date Sun Sep 15 22:28:37 2019




Writer: Seiron
Date Sun Sep 15 22:43:30 2019




Writer: Seiron
Date Sun Sep 15 22:47:38 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Mon Sep 16 23:54:26 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Tue Sep 17 09:43:50 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Tue Sep 17 23:51:56 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Wed Sep 18 08:24:06 2019




Writer: Vincent
Date Wed Sep 18 19:15:51 2019




Writer: Vincent
Date Wed Sep 18 19:17:06 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Thu Sep 19 09:04:15 2019




Writer: Novalee
Date Thu Sep 19 20:29:02 2019

To Vyasa Xentessa Abaddon Immortal Tashio Rhien Scorn All

Subject The Lamp Lights Flickered and The Ground Shook...



The sky was dark, and threatening a great storm. Clouds covering the
stars, moons, and the entire kingdom. Lightning danced from cloud to cloud,
with horrible loud clashes. The Guardsmen doing their patrols, noticed the
skies darkening, and strange happenings. The lighting flashed out various
shades of reds and whites. Concerned, the Guardsmen All began to walk to
the centre of the city.

Once together, standing in their strong armor, weapons and shields at their
sides, All agreed that this was soemthing the Count needed to know. One of
the guards stated "The Count must know of these strange happenings, if he
does not know already.
" All nodding, they looked to their highest ranked
officer on the shift. Muttering, she placed her helmet upon her head,
lifted her shield from her footing, and gritted her teeth. "What are you
all doing standing here? Get out there! Look around for an attack!"


The ground continued to rumble beneeath the cemetery to the south of the
kingdom. The grass began to shift and break up. The stones on the pathway
rumbled onto the grass. It was gaining strength in it's quake, and then
there was nothing. The clouds quieted their actions, and the earth
followed. There was nothing... Just silence.




Writer: Vyasa

Date Thu Sep 19 20:55:53 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Fri Sep 20 08:20:24 2019




Writer: Nymaya
Date Fri Sep 20 20:55:25 2019




Writer: Nymaya
Date Fri Sep 20 21:12:25 2019




Writer: Vincent
Date Sat Sep 21 00:50:53 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Sun Sep 22 00:31:29 2019




Writer: Aliera
Date Sun Sep 22 11:08:05 2019




Writer: Dorv
Date Sun Sep 22 12:37:47 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Sun Sep 22 18:37:02 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Mon Sep 23 08:48:09 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Tue Sep 24 08:37:14 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Tue Sep 24 11:23:15 2019




Writer: Iler'yx
Date Tue Sep 24 19:07:13 2019




Writer: Iler'yx
Date Tue Sep 24 20:02:49 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Wed Sep 25 08:51:48 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Wed Sep 25 23:28:19 2019




Writer: Novalee
Date Thu Sep 26 00:12:17 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Thu Sep 26 08:32:17 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Fri Sep 27 07:34:23 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Fri Sep 27 08:56:04 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Fri Sep 27 21:30:37 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Sat Sep 28 10:02:47 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Sat Sep 28 21:00:50 2019




Writer: Vincent
Date Sun Sep 29 23:40:33 2019

To All Shadow Verminasia Nehtur Nymaya ( Necrucifer Cayenna Ampersand RP )

Subject The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Notice of Arrival pt. 1



Despite the vast array of demons inhabiting the Abyss, prudence and
discretion remained rarities among the denizens of the Infernal Planes. The
babau, the "ebony deaths" or "one horned horrors", were one of those few in
possession of these most valued traits, much to their great benefit given
their relatively diminutive stature equivalent to that of a tall but thin,
adult human male.

Skeletal in appearance, their black, leathery skin was as form fitting as a
well tailored glove, stretched taut over their gaunt frames and along their
over-exaggerated extremities. Acidic paste, thick and dark red, secreted
regularly from their pores, providing their emaciated bodies a slippery
texture and protective coating. From every long finger and toe protruded a
razor sharp talon, each of them coated in blood, filth, and rotten flesh,
the resulting malodor perhaps the only thing that heralded their oft
surreptitious coming.

A single horn surged forth from the back of their tall skulls, curving
forward and downward, and below their glaring red eyes a maw of jagged
teeth, numbering beyond necessity, occupied the lower half of their face.
Despite their array of natural armaments and defenses, babaus yet chose to
wield forged weapons, the two-handed variety seemingly their preference.

Every demon lord of worth held one, if not several, of these creatures in
their employ as assassins, spies, and agents of espionage, for few other
fiends were so well suited to the task. The demon Mephrak was one such of
these and had recently returned to Galun-Khur, the 423rd layer of the Abyss,
to report back to its then-present ruler.

The towering, basalt fortress into which he skulked stood a lone feature
amidst the barren expanse of volcanic rock and magmatic activity that
comprised the demi-realm. Eternal night ruled over the starless sky above,
which in turn was dominated by a tremendous black moon far larger than those
seen upon Algoron.

Whether the layer was in such close proximity to the seat of the goddess
herself, or merely an illusion cast by her faithful servant in reverence of
her, the celestial body befitted the amplified arcane power found upon this
plane.

"My Lord Gorsythe, I have news you will wish to hear, " Mephrak growled and
clicked from below once having reached the central chamber, "But warn that
you will, most likely, not be so pleased to hear it."

The demon lord sat high atop his makeshift throne, a twisting spire of
obsidian around which his burly, lower serpentine half coiled. His upper
body was near humanoid, though possessed of six spindly, yet powerful arms.
A mouth sat in the palm of each gangly hand, All the better to cast his
potent spells, in addition to the one situated on his face. All spoke in
conjunction, both magnifying and distorting an already terrible voice.

Gorsythe's visage was no less horrid. Where the front of most skulls were
largely round, Gorsythe's forehead fanned out into a flat crescent along
which spanned six glowing, amber eyes almond in shape. A pair of small
slits served as his nostrils, framed by jagged cheek bones and a jutting,
angular jaw. Pointed teeth filled his mouth, but they were neither so long
nor numerous as the babau's before him.

"Out with it, " commanded the archfiend of Drakkara.




Writer: Vincent

Date Sun Sep 29 23:45:45 2019

To All Shadow Verminasia Nehtur Nymaya ( Necrucifer Cayenna Ampersand RP )

Subject The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Notice of Arrival pt. 2



"The 'falling star' recently glimpsed in the skies of Pazunia was, in
fact, the great horned one Xaran'xaxes,
" Mephrak spoke, his two gleaming,
crimson eyes not breaking from the three-fold gaze of his master.

The babau's gravelly voice was devoid of fear or intimidation, but the
gesture bespoke precautionary observance of the greater demon's possible
reactions, "And yet, it was not the form of a 'great horned terror' he
possessed, but that of a mortal... Not even that of a minotaur, ogre, yinn,
or anything so thick of hide, but, of All things, a soft and supple fleshed
human... Do you have any idea as to why?
"

Mephrak, like most of his kind, was not in the business of asking rhetorical
questions, lest that business pertained to toying with soon-to-be dead or
captured prey. The highest set of Gorysthe's left three hands rose to claw
at his chin while he considered the genuine inquiry. He knew of, and had
recently encountered, the body his fellow demon lord presently wore.


Why the Prince of Ambition had returned, not what form he had chosen to do
so in, was of far greater concern. The archfiend's answer came after a
pause, bluntly and with no further insight into the possibilities roiling
about in his mind, "No, I do not. And where is he now? "

"He was taken by one of Taizavzel's succubi to Shendilavri, brought directly
to the hell-maiden's palace there - unconscious and bound, so I am told.
Lamentably, our eyes and ears do not extend to inside her personal grounds,"

Mephrak's admission of failure came alongside the faintest shift in his
posture, "I do not know what exchange occurred between them, though he has
been spied in Pazunia once more, en route to the portal leading to the
Twelvetrees.
"

"The Twelvetrees, " Gorsythe murmured from his primary mouth. His elongated
fingers resumed their contemplative stroking of his osseous chin, but no
further words accompanied the thought. Mephrak awaited patiently for the
pondering to cease and the reception of his next command.

Gorsythe's arm lowered from his face and returned to rest on its
corresponding stone platform, one of six for each of his arms, that
resembled a skeletal rib cage, "Go and fetch the cornugon Ez'zoxis from his
cell.
"

The second of his three right hands rose lazily and uttered a guttural
incantation, prompting open a small, swirling portal from which dropped a
terrible length of spiked chain, a jagged short-sword affixed to each end.
Mephrak scuttled forward to retrieve the weapon which, alongside the horned
devil, had been seized during the fiends' conquest of the fifth layer of
Hell.

"Dispatch him to the Doomguard's fortress there, " Gorsythe continued, "and
instruct him to intercept Xaran'xaxes once he's concluded whatever errant
business he has in that plane before
he departs back to Pazunia.

I desire my rival either returned in chains or proof of his demise... Tell
the Mencian that if he succeeds I will restore to him both his magic and his
freedom... If he fails, a far worse fate than confinement awaits him.
"

"As you command, my lord. Shall I accompany him to ensure this seen through
to completion?
"

"No. You will return to Shendilavri and abduct one of the harlot's closest
confidants. Taizavzel's betrayal was inevitable. Duplicity runs in her
blood. I would know full well the details of her intended deceit before her
machinations come to fruition.
"

The babau bowed both in acceptance of his task and to decorously signal his
departure before disappearing in a cloud of noxious, black smoke.




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Mon Sep 30 09:00:17 2019




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Tue Oct 1 07:27:13 2019




Writer: Leylani

Date Tue Oct 1 09:50:01 2019




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Tue Oct 1 21:49:40 2019




Writer: Leylani

Date Wed Oct 2 07:45:52 2019




Writer: Nymaya

Date Wed Oct 2 23:07:22 2019




Writer: Nymaya

Date Wed Oct 2 23:38:42 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Thu Oct 3 20:45:20 2019




Writer: Nymaya
Date Thu Oct 3 21:38:57 2019




Writer: Vincent
Date Thu Oct 3 23:18:56 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Fri Oct 4 08:24:32 2019




Writer: Kaerick
Date Fri Oct 4 19:59:45 2019




Writer: Euterah
Date Sat Oct 5 13:58:41 2019

To All Darkonin Cayenna Vershae IMM

Subject Cold Snap



Once upon a time, it snowed.

Heavy, fat flakes of crystalline wonder cascaded from the Heavens to the
delight and detriment of all, coating sinner and saint, rake and righteous,
thin and thick. The Mountain lay quiet in its cloak of hushed white
grandeur. The Witch Queen made her way through the caverns, her destination
set, feet shuffling through hoarfrost built up with the humid depths. It
was time to gather her resources again. The Mountain was a demigod of
slumber, those who had rallied with her before were dead to her or dead in
general. It was a generous amount of time she spent. The Witch Queen
strove to the Heart of the Mountain. The inner sanctum of the Darkonin,
ignored by the shamans whose chanting filled the Heart with their devotion,
with their subtle magic pleas she set herself down beside one of the
monolithic stones that ringed the courtyard.

The Hollows made a fine respite, a dynastic wisdom she gleaned from the
season of Elders. Lifting brackish gaze to the members present, the Witch
nodded in acquiesce. She inhaled deeply loosing the coil of mortality,
delving into a realm deep under her consciousness.

It was so hard to concentrate, to calm herself in order to hear the
heartbeat of the Mountain. It was as if the icy winds stole her senses and
ability. The Witch curled into herself and shuddered. Empty, that is all
she felt. Empty as the whistling wind that bent the naked boughs of ancient
sleeping trees while she shut her eyes, covered her ears and keened with the
wind. Such grief overwhelmed her she could not help but cower on the stony
earth. Time passed, weather and earth remained a constant as clouds brought
snow and left her. The wind whipped at her and reminded her of her station.
Her spirit floundered amidst a storm of guilt over sanguinities that now
appeared so much less fruitful to her. Her frame shivered, racked with the
weight of the Mountains hosts.

The Witch Queen would need a circle of confidantes or the Mountain would
stay in torpor until the next plots of a new regime. The Witch stood
abruptly and several seasons of frosty crystals cascaded from her. She
curled her lips, an icy stolid expression touched her features.. She would
seek those that once counseled her. The Mountain Song thrummed within her
pale green frame, the Heart beat out a slow steady rhythm, seeking those
that have ears to hear.




Writer: Novalee
Date Sat Oct 5 15:34:16 2019

To Vyasa Xentessa Abaddon All (Tashio Imm Admin Rp )

Subject The Disturbance In the City..



The thick velvet curtains from the bed moved open, as the dark figure
peered in to examine the body upon the bed. The tall, lanky figure of a man
stood there, his features very sharp and angular and thin. His head was
completely bald, save for a few wisps of hair that remain. His eyes are
dark and sunken into his grayish palor of his face. He lifted his hand to
examine the female body, first with the face. Moving the flesh around with
his fingers, nodding and hmming with his momvements. Raising the lips of
her mouth, he nodded at the page beside him. "That is All I need to know",
he murmured.

"Do you wish to let Fatale know how worthy you are, young man? " he
questioned the page. The young boy looked no more than seventeen, round
glasses upon his face, and an innocence about him. Holding three books, a
quill and a parchment of paper in his hands, he nodded.

"Good" whispered the Examininer. "Come closer, right here, lean in and
listen for the breathing.
", Agreeing to his teachers words, the page
leaned in towards the body on the bed, closing his eyes to attempt to listen
to breath sounds from the emaciated body before him. Before he knew it, the
Examiner had slit his throat, and held the boy at the face of the woman on
the bed, the books falling from the hands, and then limp against the bed.

Letting go of the lifeless body of the page, he left the bedside. The maids
clammered together, fearful for their lives. "Tell the Count. We've found
an old one
", The tall man then slunk out of the room, and back into the
streets of Abaddon.




Writer: Ithelim

Date Sat Oct 5 19:50:57 2019

To Shadow Vincent Eclipse All Imm Religion RP Necrucifer

Subject The Umbral Diaries of High Mystic Nyiodail



It is the Day of Freedom, 18th of the month of Nature.

I have spent another night in meditation, probing the deep recesses of my
own mind to see if I am indeed going mad. The nightmares that plague my
sleeping hours continue to stir through my mind in the day. My eyes
spotting the remnants of shadow from the outskirts of my vision. Yet when I
look there, the shadow was never there. I do not know how this began, but I
do know when it began.

I write these following words so that I may decide for myself if I am truly
going mad. If I am then may God have mercy upon me and let me not be a
hinderance to any of my brethren. These records will be hand delivered to
the Dark Lord for further review and archived for future exploration into
the slow decent of madness. If not, then I do hope that these records will
be archived anyways so that we may get a clearer understanding of the nature
of the beast that haunts my visions.

It All began when I was exploring the depths of the Umbra. It is an amazing
place to take one's time in exploring, documenting everything of likeness
and what perversions the shadow has on the realm. Distance has no meaning
within the Umbra. One might spend an hour walking and be from Althainia to
Arkane, yet walking through a kingdom may take an entire day. The shadow's
of the denizens of Algoron fade in and out as well, some becoming almost
tangible enough for me to manipulate.

This is more noticeable down within the depths of Hell where the demons and
imps readily transverse through the Umbra to attack their unsuspecting foes
or to traverse the realm to deliver unto their masters. None have paid me
much attention save for a few imps during my first venture into Hell. They
were sent back to their masters with words to not interrupt one of God's
shadow mages from doing what they wish to be doing.

Each level of Hell was represented well enough within the Umbra, though it
could be that the Umbra began its roots down within the depths of Hell for
the messengers of the Dark Pantheon to fulfill their necessary deeds against
the forces of Light. This theory is well represented by the fact that the
perversion of the material realm becomes less noticeable the deeper into
Hell as one goes.

I spent perhaps a week, or maybe a month, total exploring the depths of
Hell. Time is as fluid as travel. All I know is that I lost sense of my
material form the longer I stayed. I have yet to find out if this is due to
my location or the length of time I spent, but it took a force of will to
return to the upper levels of the Umbra and rejoin with my body. I feel as
though I brought something back with me, a weight upon my soul. I will have
to study this in more depth.





Writer: Drinzoud
Date Sat Oct 5 20:30:29 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Sun Oct 6 09:59:58 2019




Writer: Angela
Date Sun Oct 6 10:05:33 2019

To All Knighthood Althainia Gray_Church Immortals Taliena

Subject Treats before Tricks



Day of the Dead.

For some, a frightful holiday, full of supernatural terrors. Malicious
spirits from the Other Side. Ghouls and warlocks who wanted to gobble up
small children. Growing up, Angela had heard the stories as much as any
child, and when the Day of the Dead came, made sure to stay well indoors,
away from the windows, and with many lit candles. Preferably also with her
close family and friends, which was not always an option as she grew older.

But that wasn't to say the holiday was All bad. While the outside world
screamed in horror, Angela and her brothers shared in delicious confections
with their grandmother's blessings. Sometimes enough to make them
positively sick to their stomachs the next morning.

That was a memory worth sharing.

Still no great cook herself, Angela was in remedial studies just to make
field rations, she went to a proper baker at the sweets store west of
Althainia, venturing deep into the woods to find it. Once there, her custom
order was easy enough to fulfill. When asked about delivery and payment,
she simply smiled.

"This isn't for me," she explained. "I want to share this with the world.
Please, if you can, have it divided up evenly and distributed to the major
kingdoms. All of them. A few sweets may improve some of the more sour ones
dispositions," Angela added with a soft giggle. She then laid a bag full of
jewelled eggs on the counter.

It was more money than the baker had seen in his life. "You got it, missy!"
He exclaimed, barking to his assistants to light a fire under it, anxious to
get working.

"And thank you All for this," Angela added with a sweet smile. "May you
have a blessed day."

And so the Day of the Dead rolled around for another year, and the children
of the world met it not with screams of terror and fright, but cries of
delight as sweets found their ways into their hands. And everyone's night,
no matter how dark, seemed just a little brighter for it.




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Sun Oct 6 10:50:54 2019




Writer: Ithelim

Date Sun Oct 6 19:39:33 2019

To Shadow Vincent Eclipse All Imm Religion RP Necrucifer

Subject The Umbral Diaries of High Mystic Nyiodail



It is the Day of the Moon, 21st of the Month of Nature.

Since my last entry I have delved back into the Umbra, taking the form of my
shadow, and peering through the veil to watch the goings on of the material
realm. I've guarded my mind from intrusion, but I cannot help that I am
being watched. I have used what spells I can to help locate the voyeur, but
nothing has helped me. In my sleep I have heard the whispers of words upon
the wind, but is it dream or reality? I do not know.

I sit in front of the orb of misty darkness and peer into its depths. It is
not long until my conciousness begins to meld with the shadows and my form
slides into the Umbra. Today the veil was thicker but I cannot for the life
of me understand why. What force is abound that is keeping me from the
Umbra? Perhaps it is the time of day, moon, or something much more devious?
I have a theory that the denizens of the shadow realm have a certain sway
upon the veil, but I must continue my inquiry into this at a later date.

I made my way across this perversion of Algoron, taking note of anything
abnormal in my search. It was as I was making my way across the desert that
I noticed a sort of shimmering in the air. I was well aware of mirages, but
the heat did not transfer to the Umbra so it could not be one. Yet as I got
closer I could see it clearer. It was a portal teeming with demonic
energies and surrounded by at least half a dozen demons of All varying
sizes. There did not seem to be a leader amongst them, at least not one
that was hulking and demanding their servitude, but there was a sort of
companionship amongst them. Perhaps they All served the same demon lord
from the depths of the Abyss.

As I got closer I could see more clearly into the portal that yawned across
the Umbral backdrop. Inside the portal was a darkness that made the shadows
of the Umbra look as if they were lit by the Heavens themselves. As much as
I tried, I could not see further than a few steps within the portal. Not at
the distance that I kept myself at least. I would not push my advance so
readily where there were enough demons to drag me into the Abyss. I will
return there on the next eve of my travels.




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Sun Oct 6 20:21:51 2019




Writer: Leylani

Date Mon Oct 7 07:28:46 2019




Writer: Drinzoud

Date Mon Oct 7 09:14:46 2019




Writer: Nymaya

Date Mon Oct 7 18:56:53 2019

To All Eclipse Shadow Verminasia ( Imm Cayenna Admin RP ) Rasavadi

Subject Lost City - A Message


The difficulties of the crater were presented in the unpredictable deep
drifts, the unseen pitfalls hidden by the same treacherous snow, and the
uncanny ability of the ghul to move through it or remain undetected. They
roamed in packs, large to small, so to see a lone ghul barreling through the
snow directly toward her as she made her way back to the monastery - despite
the pains she had taken to remain in stealth - was disturbing.

A periodic survey of the area revealed no others but it was most certainly
set on her. The snow blasted out before its momentum, marking its presence
plainly, and giving her ample time to prepare.

The hairs rising along the back of her neck, she met its advance not with
staff but with blade. That it cared not at All for the weapons she wielded
was typical, they had little sense of self-preservation, but when it pivoted
with unnaturally agility to avoid her prepared posture, suspicion erupted.
That was not normal.

They circled each other slowly, the creature moving with jerky shifts of its
emaciated frame and limbs. Its eyes blazed within its canine face, a
gruesome and rictus grin visible where the flesh had sloughed away from its
maw. Blackened, cursed, and draped in ancient and decaying armor - it was
held together only by a terrible will, one she had found herself questioning
deeply over the months that had passed.

When it lunged at her again, it moved with astounding celerity. She evaded
but it was instantly on her again, grabbing for her blade and whatever
purchase it could obtain. She managed to sever part of its hand but slipped
as they rocked back, onto an icy patch when it stumbled between her footing.
The chaos of the fight grew desperate as she struggled to keep its other
grasping hand from wrapping around her throat, her blade only just
intercepting its angle. More bony fingers fell uselessly to the ground
while it snapped, slavering wildly, but just as suddenly went completely
still.

With her blade now at its throat, they stood in a parody of abrupt
stillness. What was left of the flesh around its maw drew back in what
might have been a grin while its eyes gazed into hers - then she followed
through, her blade slicing through the undead flesh and bone. Ichor flowed,
black and stinking, from the neck while the body dropped like a ragdoll.

She watched the head roll and then staggered as a wave of disorientation and
pain gripped her own head.

++--++

The struggle to keep on was immense and a voice whispered to the weary
warrior.

..in vain..

A sound brings his attention up to the enclosing darkness, to the terror.
His weapon lay on the ground, his hand empty when he sought to close his
fingers around the worn hilt, fallen from his hand - that had been the
sound. He stoops to pick it up but his hands and fingers tremble.

The sounds had followed him and the others, relentless and certain.

Clicking, gnashing...

The caves had been thought safe, a sanctuary but...from what? His
thoughts scatter and a shudder takes him. The ground had shaken, so violent
the tremors that the earth should have opened to take them all. Deafening
had been the explosion.

The weapon once again in his grasp returns a modicum of the warrior's will,
but it couldn't last. It didn't last. The others were gone, his eyes see
nothing but the endless dark. He was being hunted. He would not die to the
claws and teeth in the dark though.

Death should have been the end. A final, glorious release for the consumate
warrior who had fought valiantly for his people. But it was not.

..rise..

And though he fought, he could not contend with her will.




Writer: Nymaya

Date Mon Oct 7 19:24:39 2019

To All Eclipse Shadow Verminasia ( Imm Cayenna Admin RP ) Rasavadi Ezessinth

Subject Lost City - Dra'strit Monastery [ The Ghul ]


She knew madness. She had veritably walked hand in hand with it for as
long as she had struggled with the discord of the Haunt.

Only madness, only complete and certain despair could have driven such an
accomplished being to take his own life. But what had followed after...

Sucking in icy breaths to contend with the lingering migraine, she noted she
had fallen to hands and knees, her sword just to the side of her and the
crumpled - headless - body of the ghul lying where it had fallen.

She did not believe in coincidences. Not anymore.

With one hand she gripped her head while the other took up the sword again
though she kept it brandished now. Nothing about this attack felt right.
Almost, she was certain that this ghul had been sent specifically. The
vision had felt pointed.

Ichor stained the gleaming metal of her sword but possessed of an undeniable
restlessness to move, she did her best to wipe it off in the snow and
returned to her trek. Dra'strit was only several more hours away and the
compulsion to rejoin Eclipse was growing stronger by the moment.

Cresting the ridge of the crater, a bank of ominous clouds had begun to
coalesce over the land and the weight of immediacy settled. As bad a
feeling as she had ever known took root and she quickened her pace -- until
she came upon the tracks.

So numerous were they that she could scarce determine how many must be
packed in together and there was only one force in Dae'tok with these sorts
of numbers. Old ranging habits notwithstanding, it was clear what their
direction was as well and she gazed off toward the far distant rise of the
dark monastery.

Exhaling hard, she embraced the risk of sheathing her sword and eyed the
terrain. She needed to get ahead of the ghul but where their gait was sped
by the accursed lands, hers would be slowed by the pockets of snow, the
permafrost, the hard rises and falls of the region, and ice.

She set out at double her pace despite the uncertainty that she could attain
the feat she needed to, her mind furiously replaying a test of speed that
her old Kyorl instructor had had her repeat continuously over the span of
two centuries. The goal had been to beat him - from one end of an area of
his choice to the other, while focusing on the eradication of varied
creatures throughout.

She was even then trying to determine the best way to cut ahead of the
ghul's force when she spied Ezessinth descending from above. She wasn't
fond of the term 'godsent' but the timing was fortuitous and when the White
landed, to beckon her urgently, she wasted no time.




Writer: Vincent

Date Tue Oct 8 01:49:42 2019




Writer: Vincent

Date Tue Oct 8 01:51:24 2019




Writer: Vincent

Date Tue Oct 8 01:53:37 2019




Writer: Leylani

Date Tue Oct 8 07:46:48 2019




Writer: Gradient

Date Tue Oct 8 09:18:17 2019




Writer: Leylani

Date Wed Oct 9 08:43:19 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Wed Oct 9 08:44:11 2019




Writer: Gradient
Date Wed Oct 9 18:14:47 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Thu Oct 10 08:34:01 2019




Writer: Gradient
Date Thu Oct 10 12:52:54 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Thu Oct 10 18:01:07 2019




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Thu Oct 10 19:12:25 2019




Writer: Alatar
Date Fri Oct 11 23:49:05 2019

To Verminasia ( Imm rp All )

Subject Whispers of Home



Alatar walked into Verminasia cautiously. It had been a long time since
he had been home, a lot had changed. A new monarch he did not recognize sat
on the throne and a whole new court surrounded her. The guards at the city
gates gave him a passing stare, likely to size him up, determine what threat
he may pose. Walking past them without incident left him a little unnerved.
As he walked through guillotine square he noticed first the smell. The air
in the city was clean and fresh. No smell of death or trash in the streets
and alleys. Perhaps coming home was a better decision than he had thought
while on the road. He would go to the temple and watch. He would see what
kind of people had taken over his city and decide if he will get involved.




Writer: Drinzoud
Date Sat Oct 12 05:15:30 2019




Writer: Jadelyn
Date Sat Oct 12 09:24:20 2019




Writer: Jadelyn
Date Sat Oct 12 09:24:51 2019




Writer: Leylani
Date Sat Oct 12 13:22:31 2019




Writer: Elva
Date Mon Oct 14 15:18:14 2019




Writer: Alatar
Date Mon Oct 14 18:38:39 2019



 


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