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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

Gogothath Campaign: Hexfire Gauntlet (Mid-Day)
Gogothath Campaign: Hexfire Gauntlet (Evening)
Gogothath Campaign: Hexfire Gauntlet (Midnight)
Gogothath Campagin: Bastion (Part One)
A Saddle for Aymer (Part 1)
A Saddle for Aymer (Part 2)
Cleaning and Cleansing!
Gogothath Campaign: Bastion (Part Two)
Blind Faith (Part One)
Gogothath Campaign: Inquisition ( Part One )
Blind Faith (Part Two)
Blind Faith (Part Three)
Blind Faith (Part Four)
Blind Faith (Part Five)
In Pursuit of Research, Part 2: On the Borders Between Elements
The White Lights: The Crystal and the {nStaff
Gogothath Campaign: Inquisition ( Part Two )
The Return
Aftermath
Butcher to Mercenary
"The Elf's Path to Power" The Journey:II
Five Fingers
A Saddle for Aymer (Part 3)
Settling
Broken Home (Part One)
Broken Home (Part Two)
Every Now and Zen!
A New Path (I)
In Pursuit of Research, Part 3: The Beginning of the End
Gogothath Campaign: Bastion (Part Three)
A New Path (II)
A Saddle for Aymer (Part 4)
The White Lights- A Fork in the Path
A Study of Birds!
Cashing in the goods
Broke Home (Part Three)
Purging Corruption
Pounds of Flesh I
Pounds of Flesh II
Pounds of Flesh III
Gogothath Campaign: Truth Hurts (I)
Gogothath Campaign: Truth Hurts (II)
The Tide Rises - {uNight's Peace
Happiness in Sadness!
Raise the Stone : Song of the Fields III ( Interlude Fin )
The White Lights- The Treant Comes Home
Broken Home (Part Four)
Metallic Ascension Replication part 1
Metallic Ascension Replication part 2
Metallic Ascension Replication part 3
Metallic Ascension Replication part 4
Metallic Ascension Replication part 5
A New Path (III)
Down into the depths
Down into the depths (part 2)
Raise the Stone ( The Coalition )
Gogothath Campaign: Inquisition ( Part Three )
Gogothath Campaign: Inquisition ( Part Four )
Gogothath Campaign: Inquisition ( Part Five)
The Snatchers: Part One I
The Snatchers: Part One II
The Freljier Crusade: Early Audience (1)
The Freljier Crusade: Early Audience (2)
The Morning After!
The Freljier Crusade: Early Audience (3)
The Snatchers: Part Two I
The Snatchers: Part Two II
The Snatchers: Part Two III
The Snatchers: Part Three
The Freljier Crusade: Heretic's Heresy (1)
The Freljier Crusade: Heretic's Heresy (2)
Gogothath Campaign: Truth Hurts (III)
Gogothath Campaign: Truth Hurts (IV)
A New Path (IV): Laid to Rest
Memories of the Past
The Little Chores Matter
The Peace of Pruning
Two Fingers
The White Lights- {nReturning to the Roots
The White Lights- {nReturning to the Roots- 2
The White Lights: Unwelcome aid
The White Lights: Unwelcome aid (II)
One Finger
Iron Claw
The Ritual (I)
Fort Ghyt
The Ritual (II)
Gogothath Campaign: Inquisition ( Part Six )
The Ritual (III)
The Ritual (IV)
The Ritual (V) - Ending
Catalyst
Return to the Fort ( The Follow Up Visit)
What Waking Thought
The Tide Rises - {uStirring {uUmbra
The Tide Rises - {uNightscape
The Tide Rises {u-{u Dark {uReflection
The Path to Ruin: Reliquary
The Path to Ruin: Reliquary (continued)
The Path to Ruin: Reliquary (continued)
Heartbreak and Ice Cream
|Lesser Evil|
Disturbance In The Desert
Wintering
Knowledge Is Power: Part 1
A Growing Hope!
On the {nTrail of the Troll (Part 1 of 75)
Moonblooms I
The White Lights: Leading the Lights
Gogothath Campaign: Inquisition ( Part Seven )
Like Sands Through the Hourglass...
Reflections
Finding a needle in a book stack
The Cleansing (I)
Wistfull Thoughts - A Kender's Dream
The Cleansing (II)
Raise the Stone: Exploration of the Fields I
Boil & Bubble
The Tide Rises - {uNight's Peace II
Still Yet More Crystals!
The White Lights- The Mother's Blessings
The White Lights- The Treant
The Stain
A Spiritwalk
The Cleansing (III)
The Cleansing (IV) - Ending
The Shards - Ast{oral & {uUmbral
Raise the Stone: Exploration of the Fields II
The Final Fight (1 of 2)
The Final Fight (2 of 2)
The Shards - Ast{oral & {uUmbral II
The Freljier Crusade: Mad Woman's Select
Musical Stones!
A lone black hat & its library.
A Chance at Redemption - (I/I)
Nadrik's Wrath - Trials of the Towers





Writer: Wyltte
Date Tue Jan 10 12:35:15 2023

To All Piknim Verminasia Shadow Imm Cayenna RP Religion Drakkara Admin Tritoch Whiskey

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Hexfire Gauntlet (Mid-Day)



The sun's march across the sky had moved passed the noon mark, and Wyltte
watches his Captains through the spyglass. The battle was being waged on
many different fronts, and All three teams were feeling the effects of their
divided efforts. The longer a battle lasts, the more errors are made on the
field. Even in personnel combat, the farther you are away from your keep
the more your patience, your magical reserves, and your resolve can wane.

Wyltte saw the looks on their faces, and knew what they were facing. Every
battle has a key turning point. The decisions of the leader make or break
what happens left. As the three teams struggled to make it to the top of
the hill, their forces slowly being eliminated by the many simulated
threats, they were All facing this moment.

The sound of two short blasts from the war horn echoed through the hillside.
Wyltte taught battle signals to the Gogothathian forces so they knew how to
perform when they could not see one another in combat. One blast was to
push forward. Two was to rally on the leader. Three was a fall back, while
four was the retreat. The Gogothathian horns were distinct, so other armies
could not emulate the same sound. Valyri, from team Dark Jewel knew her
forces were starting to get too spread, and reeled them in, though what
happened next, Wyltte did not even predict.

Team Black Moon and Desert Jewel heard the rallying cry. Wyltte broke the
main body into three small forces to teach a very valuable lesson. The
strength of darkness has always been its unity in forces. As Wyltte went
forward in the field alone, the rest of the fray beat the living hell out of
him. With other members of Storm Keep at his side, bodies fall. Mykkel and
Gorren also signaled their forces to rally up, but led their respective
teams to link up with team Dark Jewel. Like the Goddess's magic, the
synergy between their combined teams was palpable. The months of training
started to work their magic spell as the three Captains moved their teams
into formation. Step by step the entire force started to gain ground.

The Sacnoth forces played worthy adversaries to Countess Cracklespark's
soldiers, but they too had been weakened by the simulated plague. There
were many soldiers now lying on the ground from the war games, and many more
now performing as frenzied warriors, attacking All that were in their way.
The combined Gogothathian forces used their strengths against the
oppressors.

The scouts were able to harass the archers and artillery troops and slow
down their rate of fire. When they were able to get shots off, the mages
found some success at opening up portals to redirect the fire elsewhere.
The massive shield wall clipped forward at a much more consistent pace,
while the combined cavalry were able to dispatch many small gathering of
plagued soldiers. The leaders each coordinated as efficiently together like
the gears of the Machine of Nothingness. Devastating and deadly.

Hours passed, and as the sun started to touch the bottom of the horizon,
Wyltte saw the first line of infantry men crest the top of the hill. The
war cries from the Gogothathian forces pierced the air, the distances too
close now between the two battle lines for arrows or infantry. Within mere
minutes, victory cries started to ring out from crowds as Valyri, Mykkel,
and Gorren parted the ranks and emerged to the front of the ranks. The
Sacnoth Commander walked forward to the three and threw up a crisp salute.
Each of the Captains saluted in return, their helms tucked beneath their
left arms.

Wyltte walked forward to stand in front of the Captains. They saluted him
sharply, and he returned it in kind. Wyltte then lifted his right arm, and
a lightning bolt streaked into the sky.

"Gogothath, Sacnoth! You have performed with valor and emerged victorious!"
The soldiers who pretended to be dead on the field started to rise up and
lsiten. "Clean your weapons, fan the fires, for tonight we dine!"





Writer: Gubruz

Date Wed Jan 11 10:45:59 2023




Writer: Wyltte
Date Wed Jan 11 13:21:32 2023

To All Piknim Shadow Verminasia Drakkara Imm RP Religion Admin Cayenna

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Hexfire Gauntlet (Evening)



The camp was alive with the activity, the cold night sky covered in
skies. Deep in the distance, Wyltte felt the beams from the unseen black
moon alight upon his face. He watched the preparations proceed with a sense
of accomplishment. The forces came together and now were getting to unwind
as only Verminasians can.

Several cooking fires were lit across the camp, huge haunches of meat
roasting over the flames. Venison, Pork, Beef, and goat sizzling over the
fire, the savory smell of meat filling the air. There were several large
vats of thick, brown ale being brought out, bringing cheers from soldiers.
The servants were bringing out massive plates of roasted potatoes, steaming
plates of vegetables, delicious looking pies and assorted breads.

One small group of young soldiers over in the corner of the camp had a large
unexploded artillery shell. Wyltte watches as one drunken private brought
over a hammer. They were All in their cups pretty heavily and were laughing
as he swung the hammer up in the air, bringing it down hard and causing the
munition to explode. A massive pink cloud burst into the air, covering the
soldiers in a glitzy fog. Drunken screams came from the soldiers as they
coughed and spill mugs of ale All over one another, solid pink from the
faerie fire from head to toe. Wyltte shook his head at their foolishness,
but laughed at the sight. They needed it.

The servants took carved up the roasting meats and placed it on huge
platters, placing it in the center of the board. Wyltte nodded to a
servant, who rang the large brass bell used to signal dinner. Soldiers from
all over the camp gathered at the massive spread, their chatter electric and
joyous. There was not hand without a drink in it. Wyltte stepped up to the
table and looked around at the Gogothathian and Sacnoth forces, bright
smiles and drunken glances All around.

Corvus sat on Wyltte's shoulder as Wyltte raised his horn of mead to the
troops. "Verminasians, Followers of Darkness, today I witnessed a miracle!"
He bagan, watching the crowd through his good eye. The crowd whispered
loudly to themselves, and one voice cried out from the masses.

"What miracle was that, Commander Kayen?" Came the voice. Wyltte lifted
his horn a little higher.

"I watched a stump grow legs and walk away from the forest. I watched the
three baby birds merge together and become a hawk, tearing the prey from the
jaws of its enemy"
Wyltte called out. The crowds cheered at Wyltte's
words, and even Wyltte had to crack a smile.

"You All today took the chaos of the moment and used your training, you
faith in your leaders, and your resolve to power through. And for that, you
have brought distinction to Gogothath, to Verminasia, and to the Goddess!"

Wyltte pushed his drink horn in front of him in a salute to the troops.
"And for that, I salute you, Warriors of Gogothath! For Verminasia, for
Drakkara, for Darkness!"
Wyltte called out. The entire crowd lifted their
drinks in salute, and each drank in heartily.

"Now, enjoy the fruits of your labor, for tomorrow the real work begins!"
He calls out again. Like a school of piranhas, the soldiers moved forward
to the massive table. The sound of mugs clinking together, forks and knives
clattering against plates as they came to snag food from the board. Wyltte
stepped back and walked to his seat, watching the Verminasians gather
together.

As he sat down in his chair and leaned backwards, he idly twirled the ring
on his finger. This was a good moment, and he wanted to share it with
Zisuli, but he did not know if he would ever see her again. Time had always
been the biggest villain in Algoron, but he felt its effects now. So many
dreams close to becoming reality, and yet there was a small sense of
melancholy in it all. But All of these thoughts in the midst of the
celebration did not change one thing.

"Unholy Matron, Your will be done" he prayed.




Writer: Jenkers

Date Wed Jan 11 22:10:09 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Sat Jan 14 01:39:06 2023

To All Piknim Verminasia Shadow Drakkara Imm RP Religion Cayenna

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Hexfire Gauntlet (Midnight)



With the majority of the camp starting to quiet down, Wyltte sat apart on
a camp chair at a table near a massive fire, the golden yellow light and
dancing shadows competing with one another. Corvus was perched at the edge
of the table, and Wyltte used a large knife to slice off huge chunks of
roasted venison from the plate before him. Wyltte tossed a few strips
towards Corvus, who gobbled it up greedily, looking over to Wyltte for more.

"I will never fully understand your Corvus. You are here, but not here.
Spirit and Body... And you eat more than any ghost raven I've ever known"

he said with a chuckle.

Corvus looked at him sidelong, and gave a small shrug with his wings. "I am
unknowable, even if I know everything you know. I can't help it you can't
understand the divine"
he says, reaching down to tear at another strip of
venison Wyltte throws his way.

The red-haired Commander of the Sacnoth forces walks into the firelight, a
large mug of ale in her hand. She raises the mug in greeting, and Wyltte
returns the salute with the raise of his own horn of mead.

"Commander Kayen" she says, her voice soft and sultry. "A fine showing of
your troops today"
she said, sitting on the other side of the table. Wyltte
shakes his head, but offers a small smile.

"The Crimson Commander of Sacnoth's forces in the flesh" he replied. "The
soldiers of Gogothath, Countess Cracklespark's pride and joy, were given the
fight of their lives with your tactics, Commander. We are blessed to have
you here in these troubling times"
he replied, taking another drink of his
ale. Corvus watched the exchange idly, glancing between the two.

"Well, we are blessed to have the opportunities to defend the Dark Jewel,
Commander"
she said, taking a drink from her mug. "Commander, have we met
before?"
She asked as she studied Wyltte's face.

Wyltte shakes his head back and forth, chewing on a piece of the venison for
a moment before responding. "I do not think so. At least, I haven't often
made me way to the Sacnoth province."
Corvus hopped a little closer to
Wyltte, he spectral form reflecting light in unexpected ways.

"Hmmmm" she responded, letting her back lean against the table top and
stretching her legs before her. "You look familiar, tis why I asked" she
said.

Wyltte glances at her curiously after taking another drink of mead. "Well,
I have walked these realms for quite some time, much of it in Verminasia as
a matter of fact. Plus, I'm hard to miss. I'm sure you saw me in the
streets."
.

Sacnoth's Commander shook her head slightly at Wyltte's admissions. "No, it
was not that. I have not lived in Verminasia All that long. I was
recruited by Sacnoth not too long ago. The mantle of the Crimson Commander
followed me before. I was living in Dojia most of my life actually"
she
said. Wyltte sat up slightly at hearing this admission.

"Most interesting... So why is it that you think we have met then?"
Wyltte asks.

"Your face... I've seen it before... Of perhaps someone who looks much
like you."
After a minute of silence or two, Wyltte heard her whisper to
herself through the crackling of the fire. "The White Lotus..."

Wyltte looked at her curiously, and Corvus hopped up onto Wyltte's shoulder
instinctively. "What did you say?"

Sacnoth's Commander looked over to Wyltte curiously. "You.... You share
her face. The White Lotus of Dojia."
Wyltte stood up, then turned his
face to the fire for a while before turning back again. "I've only heard
that name once before, when I was searching for my biological sister"
he
mentioned. Wyltte glanced over to Corvus. "I have something I must attend
to Corvus. It may mean a short trip. In my absence, I need you to fly to
Piknim. Ensure she is okay, then report back to me."





Writer: Wyltte

Date Sun Jan 15 01:24:59 2023

To All Piknim Verminasia Shadow Drakkara Cayenna Imm RP Religion

Subject Gogothath Campagin: Bastion (Part One)



The night after the celebration of the conclusion of the Hexfire gauntlet
so the camp return to business as usual. The servants were already up
cleaning the hillside from the camp's festivities, the smell of cooking
bacon and eggs wafting through the air. Though many were far in their cups
last evening, the work of the Verminasian people did not stop.

Wyltte had sent Corvus off to check on Piknim, but was still reeling at
Sacnoth's Crimson Commander's admission. Several years ago he had heard of
his biological sister's presence in Dojia, and had spent a good few years
scouring the continent to find her, but to no avail. He knew though that
chasing her was a distraction. He had a responsibility to Storm Keep and to
Verminasia, so he would have to table his impulses for now. He needed the
land clean of the warp's influence. He needed to know the people here can
live without Chaos's corruption.

Wyltte strode out of his tent and to the table where Gogothath's newly
minted Captains await. Valyri, Mykkel, and Gorren were waiting on him, a
handful of their lieutenants also gathered. As Wyltte took his seat at the
head of the board, servants brought him a plate piled high with a sizzling
steak, over easy eggs, thick slices of warm brown bread, and a massive mug
of orange juice. All the officers rose at his presence, but he bade them
sit down quickly so they could get down to business.

"Now then" he said after taking a large drink from his orange juice and
starting to cut generous cuts off of the well-seasoned steak. "Today we
mobilize across the province. I've thought hard on how we are going to
share this division of labor based on your performances, our combined
forces, and the problem set itself. The officers listened intently, not
touching their food as he spoke.

"Valyri, you performed well with your infantry tactics. You are going to
work with Sacnoth's main body and secure the border from Arkane. Arkane has
had fairly thin numbers down there as of late, and we have no idea if Chaos
has any foothold within their provinces"
Wyltte said, cutting into some eggs
and letting the runny egg yolks spread through the plate. Another servant
brought a steaming bowl of roasted breakfast potatoes, which Wyltte spooned
onto the plate to absorb some of the warm, runny yolk. Valyri nodded as
Wyltte continued.

"Mykkel, your tactics on horseback with the cavalry were innovative and
effective. You are going to work with the Sacnoth forces and take a large
number of Cavalry to ride a circuit of the lands bordering the other
Verminasian provinces. Make sure they have heeded our advise and secured
their own borders against the Warp and this strange plague."
Mykkel nodded
silently as Wyltte turned towards Gorren.

"Gorren, your mission is a bit unconventional, but so were your tactics out
there. Yet, you need to learn some tactical patience, so I have a job for
you and your team to do"
he said, using a corner of a hunk of bread to wipe
some of the juices of the steak and egg yolk from his rapidly diminishing
plate.

"We have to start looking at this threat internally. We know that Crelius
and the Atennim line had some loyalists in the provinces before his descent
into Chaos. We do not know if they support his folly now however"
Wyltte
said, taking a moment to chew another mouthful of steak. "We have to
completely sweep and clear the province. All towns, All hamlets and cities.
No stone unturned"
. Wyltte put up a finger in a cautionary gesture. "But
this is no inquisition. We are not here to terrorize our own people"
.
Wyltte wiped the corner of his beard with a linen napkin a servant had
brought.

"Check the census rolls of every town. You will account for each and every
citizen. As a gesture of good faith you will aid them. Whatever they need
completed, time depending, do it. Use it to get into their spaces and find
out what they know through acts of service, not fear and intimidation."





Writer: Qynchyl

Date Mon Jan 16 01:22:50 2023

To All Aymer Conclave ( Imm RP )

Subject A Saddle for Aymer (Part 1)



'Best of luck, ' the wiry elf said as bundles of materials dropped to the
floor. The diminutive gnome runs her boney hands over the wrapped goods and
nods several times at her Vizer.

Qynchyl drags the goods down to the Arcanist's Craftstation and opens each
bundle, inspecting the contents. Her eyes gleam with excitement as she
beholds the thick squares of bull elephant leather, the bars of expertly
smelted arcanium, and the dense board of dreadwood. Each item is from the
hands of a Master Crafter and given to her by the Vizer. Her body nearly
hums with anticipation of the project ahead.

She clears out a sizeable space in the workshop to fulfill the Vizer's
order. Her notes scatter about her as she stages the process and moves the
various materials to where she will eventually use them.

'Forge,cast,cut,assemble,finish,pack,' she says to herself as she examines
her space.

Qynchyl begins the time-intensive process of turning the bars back into
molten metal. She changes to her dark goggles and heavily padded gloves
before stoking the furnace and starting the bellows. As the fire builds,
she places the bars in the fire and waits for the change.

As she waits, Qynchyl carefully drafts the large arches for the harness on
the floor, along with the cross pieces and associated fasteners. Upon the
drawn lines, she forms the casts from clay and sand for the molten arcanium.

The metal glows with the brightness of the sun as it transforms into its
firey liquid state. Now in her ten-times padded protective suit, she
shuffles over to the furnace to pull the crucible out with her
over-engineered tongs. With as much care as she can, she pours the molten
liquid into the casts. The crackle and hiss of the metal sing in the air as
it touches the clay. Vapors from the cooling metal surround the heavily
padded gnome, nearly obscuring the view.

A muffled cackle from the suit squeaks through the air as the first step in
the process is complete. Qynchyl knows these cast forms will require time
to cool and harden before she can shape them further.




Writer: Qynchyl

Date Mon Jan 16 01:59:12 2023

To All Aymer Conclave ( Imm RP )

Subject A Saddle for Aymer (Part 2)



Qynchyl decides to work on the leather straps as she waits for the metal
to cool. She wiggles out of the padded protective suit and leaves a
standing shell of a gnome near the furnace.

She scampers to her supplies and drags a large square of bull elephant
leather over to a spare crafting table, and spreads the leather she has over
it. With a small shard of chalk, she marks the minor areas of the leather
where it is thin or has other slight imperfections that would not keep the
strength of the straps she needs. Next, with a straight edge, she chalks
where she will cut the thick straps required, maximizing the number of
equally-width straps she can cut.

Qynchyl takes out a tool with a round, sharp metal disc affixed to a handle.
She uses this tool to cut straight lines into the leather. Due to the
thickness of the leather, she takes several passes over the same line to cut
through the hide. Eventually, Qynchyl finishes this one square and does the
same to another. With the scraps, she pulls thinner strips and fashions
them as cords for binding.

After cutting out the leather pieces, she checks on her metal casts. The
cooled metal forms are now ready to be shaped and strengthened.




Writer: Asyrlin

Date Mon Jan 16 22:10:11 2023




Writer: Penelopina

Date Wed Jan 18 09:53:52 2023

To All Justice Immortals Taliena

Subject Cleaning and Cleansing!



{pWorking with Justice was so exciting! They were so unlike the elves of
Shalonesti! There was so much more variety here, people, backgrounds,
causes,
{pand classes. Even skills. Penny was already picking up quite a bit
of learning from her instructors, and had already been promoted to a Soldier
of
{pTactics!

{pThat said, there were drawbacks as well!

{pWhile they were ever-focused on fighting the good fight, Justice didn't have
the same sense of community the Shalonesti did. The half-human Penny
{pwas
acutely aware that, outside of fighting, few wanted to interact. Either
with her or with the outside world in general. Not many of them even
{pvisited the Chapel of Light they had in their hall. And while it was
obviously treated with the proper reverence, she noted it was also showing
{psome signs of neglect. Dust, dirt, a few pine needles left behind by Gift
Day decorations, that sort of thing.

{pWhelp, time to start the new year out right!

{pSo Penelopina Starflower Sha'evlas rolled up her sleeves and took to some
much needed cleansing of the chapel.

{pStarting with scrubbing the white marble floors, then dusting off the
comfortable oaken pews, then a round of washing of the stained glass
{pwindows. She even took the time to replace every last one of the hundred of
candles that had gave the chapel its warm, welcoming glow. She
{pwas told
each time a new recruit joined up with Justice to make the world a better
place. If so, wow. That was a lot.

{pCleaning done, she took time to do some cleansing as well, purifying the air
with incense, and lightly ringing a silver bell in her possession
{pto drive
off negative emotions and dark spirits. Murmuring a prayer to Taliena,
asking for her healing touch.

{pIt was a brand new year, and All the pain, the anger, the disappointment...
Penny wouldn't forget it, but right now... She let it go. Like
{pshrugging
off a backpack full of rocks. It was time to start the new year out right!




Writer: Wyltte

Date Wed Jan 18 12:35:53 2023

To All Piknim Shadow Verminasia Drakkara Imm RP Religion Cayenna Tritoch

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Bastion (Part Two)



As the Gogothathian soldiers went out executing Wyltte's orders on behalf
of Countess Cracklespark the next few weeks, he allowed the fledgling
Captains grow in experience and in confidence of their leadership styles.
The strange loss of many of Gogothath's original veterans was still a vexing
problem, but Wyltte knew you could not dwell on the past far too well. He
had given what he could to bring the province new blood who would create a
better future for its citizens. That had to be enough.

Valyri ensured the soldiers along the border were not just idle, because
apathy breeds mistakes. She regularly switched locations and ensured the
troops explored All aspects of the terrain. It was a continual learning
process for each man and woman under her command, and they were better for
it.

Mykkel and his cavalry plotted the best tracks and pathways through the
province, even linking up with the Swamp Rats to ensure their steeds knew
how to navigate the marshy terrain. They constantly searched for ways to
improve response time to the different hamlets, towns, villages, and cities
within the province. He even established plans for an alert system to warn
citizens of the province using air support, as inspired by the Gogothathian
air bombing campaign Wyltte created for the Hexfire Gauntlet.

Gorren and his soldiers started to survey the province for Warp follower
holdouts. Wyltte stayed close by as he and his soldiers executed their
first outreach. Their first trial was at a small hamlet on the southern
border. The first day Wyltte watched as Gorren engaged the elder of the
tiny hamlet. There were only a few homes and a small shop or two, but the
size of the military force still made the people nervous at first.

Wyltte resisted the urge to step in and reassure the elder there was no
ill-intent from the Gogothathian forces, but knew he could not carry the
torch for the whole province. He had obligations to Storm Keep and to the
Goddess to keep. Part of learning to lead is knowing when to stay back and
watch. Gorren found his way, and the first day was able to complete a
survey of the small town. They walked through the small hamlet, and he
offered suggestions on how the force could help out the next day or so,
which started to open the hearts of the villagers. He did not over commit,
which also helped him drive the timeline and the narrative of what they
could do. Gorren knew full well the phrase Wyltte drilled into them during
training. "Offer half of what you can give, because they will always ask
for more"
.

Thankfully, there was no sign of followers of the Warp at the first hamlet,
but Gorren knew his orders. Call the priests, confirm their faith, and
detain until Countess Cracklespark and the King can decide their fate. They
were more than capable of handling the task. The influence of Crelius
started to fade the longer he was away from the province, but Wyltte
cautioned them All not to forget trickery is not only for followers of
Devion. The Warp will stop at nothing to see the world perverted.

After his battlefield circulation, he sent word to All three Captains he had
business to attend to back at Storm Keep. Corvus had been gone some time in
his mission to find Countess Cracklespark, but he did not fear too much.
Their bond was such that he knew if something would have went awry. With
Gogothath in capable hands, Wyltte set out to his temple, praying to
Drakkara the entire way.




Writer: Wyltte

Date Wed Jan 18 14:44:09 2023

To All Drakkara Shadow Verminasia Religion RP Imm Cayenna

Subject Blind Faith (Part One)


Wyltte's dead eye had been bothering he left Verminasia and crossed the
Arkanian border. He had spied Penelopina briefly through the trees and
crouched low to try and close the gap silently, but she quickly moved to her
hall. Instead of heading back to the desert sands he had been accustomed
to, he found his way back to the glade where he established his temple to
Necrucifer. Wyltte passed through the forest floor into the hardscrabble
glade, walking over the ancient stone bridge of the chasm of isolation. As
the winds from the chasm gusted up from the abyss, Wyltte felt something
different within himself.

Within his ear, a soft ringing begins to sound. Not unbearable, but enough
for Wyltte to take notice. He stops and looks around as he stands on the
bridge, searching the lonely glade for some signs of life. The sound
abruptly stops and much like a lover's whisper, a softness caresses its
words against his ear. A voice came from All directions, to include inside
himself.

"Do I have your attention yet?"

Wyltte removes his helmet and sheathes his blade, the basilisk fang hanging
at his side. He looks up towards where he felt the presence of the
invisible black moon. "My attention is yours".

The chuckle is soft, barely audible, much like the words that follow. "But
you are not here, I cannot see you..."


Wyltte places the helmet back on and feels the familiar weight of the fang
in his hand as he walks down the center of the bridge towards the forest's
edge. "I shall find my way" he says, stepping out into the Arkanian forest.
He had heard a ripping sound, prompting him to think of where the Goddess
could see him best. "To the Rip in the Sky" he says quietly, stalking
through the woods.

As he steps off the docks of the port of Althania, he quickens his pace and
heads towards the desert sands. The sun was high and the sands hot as he
approaches the eastern gate. All the guards must have been pulled away, or
were carrying Lothaw through the city in some grand profession, as the gate
was left unattended. The Goddess favored his luck this day, because the
guard's lives were spared his blade. Wyltte would have let nothing get in
his way.

As he passed through the eastern gate onto East Main street, he spied the
jagged rip in the sky high above the cityscape, crackling with a charged
entry. He closed his good eye and spoke the dark words of magic to have his
feet lift him off the hot sands, his body floating in the air. Wyltte
looked up towards the rip and felt him floating into the ethereal space into
a completely new world.

The hair on the back of Wyltte's neck rose up as soon as he passed through
the ripped sky. The Black Moon before him seemed to convulse like a black,
beating heart. The air beneath his feet crackled with energy as he wove his
way along the path towards the upper ends of the rip, his mouth whispering
prayers the entire time.

Wyltte descended the Stairway of Obnulation into Drakkara's Chamber of
Pronouncement, removing his helmet once again as he enters the grand room.
He stood before the jeweled throne, his good eye searching for the Goddess
herself. His instincts brought him here, but he did not find her sitting
upon the throne. Wyltte looks around carefully, his low-toned voice booming
through the emoty space.

"Are you here, Mistress?" He asks. A sound from the north pierces the
air, and a small figure appears behind the throne coming towards him.
There, standing next to the throne and bouncing with each step was a soul he
knew All too well. Countess Piknim Cracklespark.




Writer: Kaerick

Date Wed Jan 18 15:58:03 2023

To All Piknim Shadow Verminasia Drakkara Imm RP Religion Cayenna Tritoch Crelius

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Inquisition ( Part One )



Darikus was brushing down the brown mare when something startled the
various beasts within the stables. As the stablehand looked up, a cloaked
figure stood within the doorway. The torchlight glinted off the Templar's
chainmail and allowed the dwarf to make out the dark green cloak that formed
the outline of the man. A black polearm was firmly in the figure's grasp
and a shield seemed mounted on the man's back. The figure walked into the
stable with purposeful strides. Darikus was brushing down the brown mare
when something startled the various beasts within the stables. As the
stablehand looked up, a cloaked figure stood within the doorway. The
torchlight glinted off the Templar's chainmail and allowed the dwarf to make
make out the dark green cloak that formed the outline of the man. A black
polearm was firmly in the figure's grasp and a shield seemed mounted on the
man's back. The figure walked into the stable with purposeful strides.

The dwarf grinned a bit and said, 'Lord Templar, aye been some time though
seems the beasties remember ya.
'

Kaerick looked down at the dwarf and nodded, 'It's been awhile, Darikus. I
am needed in Gogothath. I trust you have taken good care of Aikia in my
absence?
'

The dwarf wrung his calloused hands, 'But o'course M'lord. She's been
groomed and fed. Ready for the saddle. A quiet one she is..
' The dwarf
glanced back at the stall with the words 'Aikia' burned into the gate.

Kaerick moved to the black stallion and stroked its forehead. Aikia had the
frame of a typical Verminasian stallion but her mane was bone white rather
than black and there was an odd intellect behind her eyes. It had been
quite some time since they had gone on a journey. Even longer since their
last tournament. A twice crowned champion of the jousting league, this
stallion knew its purpose and served its master faithfully.

'We head on a mission, my friend. We are called to... Ferret out the last
of an old and dying house. Some seek to resist the Decay, the change of the
realm. We will need to.. Show them that they err. I sense we will cross
Gogothath's territory in total before our task is complete.
' Taking down
his saddle, Kaerick carefully set about preparing his horse for their
journey.

The sounds of horse's hooves upon the cobblestone announced the exit of the
Templar...

And the beginning of the Inquisition.




Writer: Wyltte

Date Wed Jan 18 16:13:46 2023

To All Drakkara Shadow Verminasia Drakkara Imm RP Religion Cayenna

Subject Blind Faith (Part Two)


Piknim stared at Wyltte with a look of surprise as she leans against her
hoopak. {u"Fancing running into you hereabouts, though. What a pleasant
surprise!"
She says to Wyltte. He nods sagely towards her, his face
somewhat distracted as he looks around.

Another chuckle sounds into his ear, almost cat and mouse like in its
playful whisper. "You are getting closer...." It said to him. Wyltte
looked around for the voice as Piknim stares at him questionably. He
reaches up to scratch at his beard thoughtfully.

{u"What did you hear?"
She asks Wyltte, taking a moment to drink from her
vintage tin canteen embossed with the Topknotch Scouts emblem embossed on
the side. Wyltte looks towards her for a moment, his voice low. "A
whisper"
he replies, looking around again. "I may return" he says, heading
back up the stairs and through the Rip.

Wyltte runs through the hot sands of New Thalos headed towards Storm Keep,
his mind racing. He knew it was Her. Drakkara. Months and months of
prayers, of service, of seeking. He had a hole in his soul that tore at
him, and he had studied Her and Her place as the head of the pantheon. Ever
since the fall of Necrucifer, Wyltte fought the grief in his heart with a
myriad of different faux remedies: anger, bloodshed, denial, recklessness.
Everything but what was needed to cure his soul... To be complete once
again, a man of faith and purpose. He sprinted through the entrance of the
hall and into where he felt the Goddess would be waiting.

As he ascended the stairs to the Spire of Drakkara, the energy crackling
through the top of the ceiling in huge {upurple
bolts, Wyltte burst into the
room to only see a handful of flowers splayed around the floor. Wyltte
waited for a moment, praying that She would hear him. A single syllable
sounded in his head.

"... Tsk".

Wyltte was frustrated with himself, but enjoyed the searching. In a way it
was like the last few months he spent in prayer. Looking to find Her, not
sure when and if she would answer. He sprinted back out into the sands and
returned to the throne room, thinking perhaps he missed a vital clue to
finding where the Goddess would be waiting. Piknim was still here and
approached Wyltte as he burst into the grand space.

{u"... What did the whisper say?"
She asked of him.

"It was playful... It was looking for me" he replies. He looked around
again, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Goddess, are you.. Here?"
He asked. Wyltte waited with baited breath to hear the voice in his head
come alive again. Piknim walked north into the Hall of Penance to the
north. Wyltte followed suit, looking around at the massive flag on the
wall. Storm Keep's banner was displayed proudly. He looked over to Piknim,
his voice low but slightly tense.

"You've heard nothing?" He asks. Piknim shakes her head back and forth.
"I heard a ripping sound.. I know I am closer." Piknim blinked a few
times as she studied Wyltte.

{u"Where were you when you heard it?"
She asks, glancing back over her
shoulder furtively.

"In Arkane, but I came here, knowing I was closer. I felt it" he replies,
looking at the flag and looks back towards the throne room again.

{u"The top of the Rip, perhaps?"
She asks. {u"The statue. I'll check the
cursed bramble!"
She exclaims, bolting out of the room like a cannonball.
Wyltte follows, making his way to the pair of twin obelisks that jutted out
from the black sands, shimmering with their dark {uindigo luminescense. A
chain of thick roping was between them full of black power entwined with a
{Udeep indigo
that stretched beyond the twilight of the Rip's sky.




Writer: Wyltte

Date Wed Jan 18 16:39:59 2023

To All Shadow Verminasia Drakkara Imm RP Religion Cayenna

Subject Blind Faith (Part Three)


Wyltte stared at the labradorite figure of Drakkara, looking down at the
inscription.

"All those who stand to be blessed, who seek power and purpose within the
exalted Dark, send forth your praises unto the Queen of Darkness. Fear and
Love Her, for within Her Darkness All potential is revealed as Algoron
awaits its transformation"


Piknim nods at Wyltte once as she came in, nimbly walking up to him. {u"I 'll
return straight away. I suggest.. A prayer here, hmm?"
She says. {u"The
Night Mother will surely hear"
she says before leaving. Energy pervaded the
air, the palpable feel even drawing the fine hairs from the nape of Wyltte's
neck. Wyltte shivered, kneeling before the idol.

"Goddess, I seek you. I hear a voice, knowing that my prayers are heard. I
seek you in everything Goddess"
he prays. As he prays, Wyltte begins to
feel as if he was being watched, but not from anything within the vicinity.
It's as if something from afar has its eye on him.

Piknim walks in again, then leans on her hoopak. Wyltte turns to her
briefly. "I feel... Eyes upon me. I know there are..." He manages
saying before turning away. Piknim smiles irrepressibly and dips her
topknotted head in acknowledgement.

"I am here, Goddess. I am blessed to bathe in your glory, your Darkness".
The otherwise dark and obscure landscape seems to come alive with light and
electricity, a magnificent showing of sparks and lightning coursing over the
chain that is bound to either obelisk.

In his mind, Aethalides addressed those within the keep. He reported that
Storm Keep seemed to come alive, a current running along the dark stones of
the keep, building in intensity. Wyltte prayed harder to Goddess before the
obelisk.

"I seek you Goddess, I feel your presence, know your rays of the Black Moon
are upon me. I feel your energy, but cannot find your voice."
Wyltte felt
electricity flowing throughout his whole body.

Another whisper sounds in his mind, a bit more distant yet still faint.
"You are still far.... Come to me. Come home..."

Wyltte felt the expectation rising in his mind at the voice mentioned home
and stood abruptly. He ran as fast as he could back to the keep.

Wyltte ran to the Gatehouse of Storm Keep, the thin layer of sand covering
the black marble beneath his feet. Above him, a serpentined length of
hollowed fulgurite with an ebon piece of hemitite at its head, reaching high
above the gate, the rare formation of fused sand giving the appearance that
it looks out over the vast sands that lay beyond the gates of Storm Keep.

As Wyltte approaches, the sepertined fulgurite shimmers against the intense
heat of the desert, the hemitite head appearing to look down upon you.
Wyltte looked up at it respectfully, taking a deep breath.

"I am here, Goddess of the Infinite Night, my everything." Wyltte kneels
down on the sands, awaiting the next moment with an expectation he had
rarely ever felt.




Writer: Wyltte

Date Wed Jan 18 17:02:21 2023

To All Shadow Drakkara Verminasia RP Religion Cayenna Imm

Subject Blind Faith (Part Four)


As Wyltte kneels within the gatehouse, he feels a soft caress against his
cheek. While it might have been only the desert winds, Wyltte places his
hand against his cheek for the briefest of moments.

Chains of lightning continue to streak along the dark stones and pillars of
the keep, energized and stirred in brilliance and their heated display of
power. Wyltte takes a moment to find his voice to speak.

"There is nothing I would not do, no greater satisfaction than to serve.
For once there was no future, and now there is a world unseen open to me"
he
says. Wyltte watches the chains of lightning play over the keep's stones,
looking up in awe with his good eye, feeling the intense heat on his skin.

As Wyltte's eye looks upon the fulgurite, it seems as if the outline of a
figure appears, one that is as tall, if not taller than the fulgurite
itself. He watches at the outline of the figure appears, squinting slightly
to get a better sense of the apparition.

The fulgurite seems to be held within what seems to be a hand of the tall
figure, both seeming to shimmer against the heat of the desert, making the
image unclear... Illusionary. Beyond that, it does not move yet, you know
without a doubt that the sultry whisper that sounds in your ear comes from
the figure.

"Why do -you- want me?"

Wyltte stands from his kneeling position, looking up at the illusionary
figure before answering. The stones continue to crackle with energy, ever
charging upward as it races along the pillers and stones of the keep before
repeating.

"Goddess, there are a great many things I can say, a million words of
praise, a million smaller matters that make up the need to find You... But
all of them would pale in comparison to why my heart truly wants You"
he
says, his voice low but confidant.

"Because I am a man who believes in serving, whose conviction and serice is
my very reason for being. You Goddess, ARE Darkness. You embody every part
of it, from dark desires to wicked plans, from unholy blessings to power
itself. And I am a man who wants to further that, to further Your power,
and Your voice here on Algoron."


"For I am Wyltte Kayen, perhaps the last Kayen, and I want the legacy of my
dying line that helped found the keep to go down serving the Source of
Darkness. You, Goddess. I want you because without You, I am nothing"
he
finishes saying.

The old scars above and below Wyltte's right eye seems to flair as if traced
by a hot lance, a seering and itchy pain that holds the throb of damaged
nerves.

"But do you see? Truly see the vision that has been laid out before all?"

Wyltte feels the scar heat up and raises his hand to it, dare not placing
his fingers on the scar, resting his fingertips along his cheek where he
felt the touch before.




Writer: Wyltte

Date Wed Jan 18 17:42:46 2023

To All Shadow Verminasia Drakkara Imm RP Religion Cayenna

Subject Blind Faith (Part Five)


Wyltte paused a moment before address the question from the figure
holding the fulgurite in its hands, feeling the power of Drakkara emanating
from the very stones of Storm Keep itself.

"I see that the world of Darkness is divided, but you as Weaver of the
Tapestry move on what was never done before. That You will stitch together
the pieces of the broken world, for only an unbroken tapestry serves its
purpose, paints the whole picture. I see you came to do what He could not.
That you alone have the power to fix what is broken."


Wyltte continues his speech, standing tall. "I see that You, Goddess, know
that All sides are against you, but stand in confidence to defened your
perfect world against a celestial sky and any world that does not understand
your nature. I see that, because I am a man who lived in Darkness his whole
life, and know that this is where life truly resides"
he finishes.

Slowly the pain around Wyltte's eye seems to subside, though the itching
remains. The amethyst spots, which appear as eyes in the hemitite, seem to
weight and consider Wyltte in judgment. Near his knee, a small hole begins
to take shape as the sands seem to vacate the area, slowly moved by some
invisible force.

Wyltte looks down at the hole near the sands, glacing between it and the
amethyst eyes of the hemitite. As the hole begins to take shape, the voice
again sounds within his head. "Finish it" Wyltte realizes that the sands
have stopped moving and while a slight hole remains, it is no longer getting
any deeper. Wyltte kneels down where the hole appeared in the sands.

"I follow you, Drakkara, You are All I need, and will follow you to my last
breath"
he says. A single grain of sand rolls itself upwards and out of the
hole to land in the small pile that has already been dug out, a singular
phrase again sounding "Finish it".

Wyltte uses his hands to scoop out the rest of the sand, pushing the hot
sands apart into a large pile. As he digs, he uncovers a milky spheroidal
object, splashed with an annular of amethyst that has been sliced through by
a slit of antracite coloring. He places the object gently in his hands,
wiping off the grains of sand upon it.

"You will need two for the tasks at hand..."

A soft chuckle fills the air as a wave of righteousness passes through him.

Wyltte reached up and removed the black bandage that covered his bad eye,
letting it fall into the sands. "All glory and power be onto you, Goddess.
This day, and All days. I am yours"
he says, feeling the power of Drakkara
filling his soul. He takes the stone in his hand, feelings it power as he
lifts it to inspect it more closely.

As he gazes into the "eye" he held in his hands, within the depths of the
stone of both the amethyst ring surrounding the anthracite pupil, you see a
split picture, one that truly depicts an eye staring back at him and the
other half that shows the shadowed surface of the dark moon.
Wyltte lifts
the eye once more to the figure, breathing in a deep sigh of relief. "With
this, Goddess, All who see me shall see your Power within myself. I am more
than blessed"
. As the apparition fades away, Wyltte knows what he needs to
do. With his other hand he retrieves his basilisk fang. Clenching his
teeth he lifts it to his dead eye, carving the old flesh from the socket,
letting it fall into the desert sands. Wyltte buries it in the place where
the new eye was discovered, stepping on the sand to firm the ground beneath
it.

He lifts the new eye to the empty socket, careful as he pushes it into
place. Using his hand, he massages the skin around the socket to get it
into place, blazes of color exploding into his head as it comes to life, his
vision sharper and crisper than ever.

"I see everything, Goddess" he says, stepping into his home, Storm Keep.




Writer: Euterah

Date Wed Jan 18 18:06:46 2023




Writer: Euterah

Date Wed Jan 18 22:19:46 2023




Writer: Delsaran

Date Thu Jan 19 00:33:06 2023




Writer: Delsaran

Date Thu Jan 19 00:34:41 2023

To Shalonesti Shalonesi_Kingdom Lindanilis All ( Imm RP )

Subject In Pursuit of Research, Part 2: On the Borders Between Elements



Delsaran was once again in the Sha'enlas laboratory. He had only returned after
giving up the Disciplines of Wind and Earth and becoming proficient in Fire and
Metal.

"Scorching winds!"

Within a blink, a small flame appeared and grew into a torrent of burning wind.
The flames swirled around in a circle completely engulfing two wooden test
dummies. Then, as fast as the flames appeared, they were extinguished, leaving
only burnt pieces of wood thrown around the containment field.

Delsaran spoke as he held back the burning pain in his lungs, "So this is the
power of fire. It made quite a mess. Right, Mr. Mud..." Delsaran glanced down
at the empty lab stool next to him. "Oh yeah..."

He suddenly shook off the memories and quickly searched through the research
notes spread out on the desk. "Found it!" exclaimed Delsaran.
Written on the paper was:

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
| Origin of the Earth Monsters |
| |
| Lady Lindanilis Sha'tavas was interested in examining the monsters and |
| had an idea about their origins. From the discussion, we theorize that, |
| unlike elementals, their origin lies somewhere on this plane in Algoron. |
| In addition, Lady Lindanilis had a realization that the mud monster has |
| qualities of both earth and water. I need to explore this further. |
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

As a connection was made in his mind, Delsaran underlined the statement about
earth and water. Talking to himself, "Despite no longer following the Discipline
of Wind, the scorching winds spell clearly has the element of wind in it." He
continued, "Metal storm and monsoon! What if...?" He looked down and quickly
scribbled in his notes:

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
| On the Borders Between Elements |
| |
| There are many spells that seemingly sit near the borders of Disciplines |
| and you do not need to be skilled in both Disciplines. If this is true, |
| the lines between elements aren't as well-defined as believed. Is it |
| possible to create more powerful spells by combining elements? Or, maybe |
| it's possible to release the restriction on only two Disciplines? This |
| is something I need to explore further. |
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Delsarian shuffled the notes away then chuckled to himself, "It seems that there
is always something I need to explore further."




Writer: Andreyna

Date Thu Jan 19 16:53:17 2023

To All Zandreya Xenophon

Subject The White Lights: The Crystal and the {nStaff


'Majesty, I believe the staff is ready for you', came a voice
interrupting the Bishop's thoughts. Andreyna sat at her usual spot at the
tree in the center of the Vallens, her thoughts swaying back and forth from
the Warp to the Light. Who was responsible for these lights? What did they
want?

The elfqueen stood to greet the mage of the Sha'enlas, smiling as she took
the staff within her hands. The staff was simple and of eldritch-make, the
Sha'enlas modifying it a bit so she may insert the red crystal into the end
of it.

Andreyna dug into a pouch, carefully pulling out the red crystal with a
cloth, ensuring that she did not touch it. With a slight nudge and a twist
of her hand, the Bishop was able to secure the crystal into the prongs at
the top of the staff. Andreyna tucked the cloth back into the pouch and
held the staff out before her. She twisted it back and forth in her hand,
tilting her head as she examined it. Turning the staff upI just want to
make sure it know I don't know anything about the arcane! '

The mage laughed harder in response, 'That is quite obvious, Queen-Bishop',
she said, covering her laugh with a dainty hand, 'I promise you, Queen, the
crystal will stay secure. You will be quite safe from touching it.
'
Andreyna took a deep breath and nodded, 'I hope that the Vallens will be as
well.
'




Writer: Symantha

Date Fri Jan 20 05:16:43 2023




Writer: Euterah

Date Fri Jan 20 06:47:35 2023




Writer: Piknim

Date Fri Jan 20 13:24:19 2023




Writer: Kaerick

Date Fri Jan 20 13:41:40 2023

To All Piknim Shadow Verminasia Drakkara Imm RP Religion Cayenna Tritoch Crelius

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Inquisition ( Part Two )



The camp was small but orderly as he arrived at the southwestern
borderland encampment of Captain Gorren. All he had to do was follow the
captain's trail as he went hamlet to hamlet seeking Warplings. Dusk was
settling in and smoke from the fires wafted into his nostrils as he cantered
his stallion to the sentries and dismounted.

'Who goes there? ' asked a young Deathwatch recruit.

'Tell Captain Gorren, Templar Kaerick Ravenhold has arrived by order of the
Advisor and Countess of Gogothath
. ' replied Kaerick as he made his way
between the sentries, his horse's reigns in his hand.

A runner was dispatched to the captain's tent as Kaerick found a place to
keep his mount for the evening. He tipped the stable boy a gold to ensure
Aikia was tended to properly and took the sadle off her personally.
Completing his work and turning, he found Gorren coming towards him, his
black and gray tabbard rustling as the wind picked up. The man had a
swagger and a glit of eagerness in his eyes as one easily given to laughter
or anger. His visage but he still wore his weapons and armor in the event
of something happening.

'Templar, I just received the Commander's letter telling me you'd be
comming! Follow me to my tent, bit warmer and less windy there.
' he
invited. They clasped hands formerly and Kaerick followed him.

Approaching the large canvas tent, lanterns were hung inside to provide a
bit of light. The space was spartan but functional. A cot, chest, table,
and chairs were All accounted for. Upon the table was a map of the province
and as Kaerick glanced at it, he could see markings from hamlets they had
passed by. A large velum book lay open with figures, a census, upon the
pages inside.

'So, I have to say I'm a bit surprised, Sir, of your coming. Commander
Kayen told me personally there were to be no Inquisition. We were to count,
aid, and gather trust All while making sure there were no Warplings or
Atennim followers here, sir. So what's changed if ye don't mind me ask'n
?
' inquired Gorren as he took a seat at the table.

Kaerick took the opposing seat, his mail clinking as he did so. He paused a
moment before speaking, 'Captain, I know you have only recently gained your
rank as well as only recently completed your training under the Commander.
You have done well in that short span of time. So do not take this as a
slight when I say, you are not prepared for the enemy you seek. Crelius
Atennim is not just a commander or a knight, he is a man who inspired
loyalty and had machinations deep and dark as well as immortality. He ruled
this land and yet needed no true military to do so. Fear was his weapon and
his bridle. There will be more underneath All this than we realize and I
will ferret it out with my unique abilities. All I will ask of you are two
things, you will aid me and you will not question my tactics.
'

There was a pause, a silence that came over the tent as Gorren absorbed the
new information.

'Tomorrow I will join you in the next Hamlet and as you do your work, I
shall do mine. Let's see what we can investigate together, hmm
? '

Dusk settled and the peace of the night began.




Writer: Maynj

Date Sat Jan 21 17:00:57 2023

To All Darkonin Raije Dragoth Imm Rp

Subject The Return



After a good length vacation the ship docked at the Icewall port from
Shokono. Stepping off the boat two very dark forms standing behind the King
on either side of him the guards cloaked in raven black cloaks seems to be
on constant watch ready to protect the King with their life. Adjusting his
crown him and his newly hired guards set off back to Darkonin. Arriving at
the mountain he is met by Grar who had been overseeing the mountain while he
was on Vacation and training in the ways of the Orient nation of Shokono.
After a long meeting with Grar he settles back into his Throne in deep
thought of where he left off. His assassin like Guards settling into
smaller chairs behind the Throne behind the King one on each side. The dark
figures are goblins that were removed from the Ninjas guild for their
explosive violence and thirst for death was too much even for the ways of
the Ninja. Struggling for their survival they swore their life to the King
for providing the a purpose food and shelter. The King settled in picking
up his spear the familiar feel of the arcanium warmed his blood and the
balance of the spear was perfect. He stood and started out of the throne
room his faithful guards behind him he stopped a moment and said "Let us
raise the Mountain the Time of Darkonin to Rise is upon us!!





Writer: Maynj

Date Mon Jan 23 10:24:45 2023

To All Raije Dragoth Imm Rp

Subject Aftermath



Returning to the Throne Room after a successful raid the King leaned his
spear againsed the wall and flopped down on the throne exhausted. He leaned
forward rubbing his temples and hung his crown on the Corner of the throne.
He had his guards take the corpse to the temple of Dragoth and offer it as a
sacrifice. He stopped the guard and told them "Take the dark path back and
patrol the shadows after you deliver the corpse"
. The King sat a long while
replaying the raid in his head the success of the raid was good but he
started thinking more. There had been some bickering before the raid had
even started and the King knows that it cannot happen again. {"Council
chambers is for bickering and arguing... Raiding is for The Gods and
Warriors... No wonder the Gods seem unpleased at times by their followers."
He rubs his head again his guards returning quietly moving to their seats
by the entrance guarding the Throne. He asked one of the guards "Why is it
so hard to be a King and a Warrior?"
One of the guards replied in a
hissing raspy voice "Warriors settle differences with weapons not words
Sire... One that can do both is a Special breed Sire.... We have sssseen
you do it you have thisss Gift"
He sat back in the Throne pondering a bit
and nodded. "This is true tis why I have been named the Iron Claw King...
"We have to address some things and some respect has to be taught I cannot
and will not allow disrespect to Any leaders of the realms for it is a
direct reflection of myself and the mountain."
Pausing for another moment
thinking again the King said "A meeting for All of Darkonin will be set soon
so that we can discuss behavior and how we represent Darkonin... I
understand we are a Goblinoid and Ogrekind so only so much can be expected
but some culture and respect can be taught."
The King sat back in the
Throne and leaned his head back and said "I must rest my tired eyes I will
schedule a meeting soon and adress some things... It will All get better
with a bit of structure"
Drifting off to sleep the King went directly to
snoring knowing he was safe and sound with his trusted guards at the door.




Writer: Z'szytheis

Date Mon Jan 23 12:32:26 2023

To All Raije ( RP IMM RELIGION )

Subject Butcher to Mercenary



The breeze from the ocean blew into the temple as Z'szytheis continued to
stare at the statue. Thinking back at the sins of his past and the
senseless murders committed in the name of the Warp God. He growls in
disgusts as he relives his memories. Every swing of his blade and every
bite taken, it no longer brought him satisfaction. All he had was time on
his side to re-evaluate his purposeless actions. Clenching his fist as he
growls, "Vile. "

He looks at the statue, "Lord Raije, hear me. I have atoned for my
transgressions and make it my sole purpose to make the Warp live in misery
and cower at your banner. I will see to it that I partake in their demise
and witness the fall of their fortress.
" He picks up his weapons and bows
his head in respect. A hand is placed on Z'szytheis' shoulder, "Butcher. "
He takes the hand, twists it slightly as he turns to face the voice, "Do not
call me that.
" A hooded figure is seen and can be heard groaning in pain
as his hand is still twisted, "Ugh.. A-a-apologies. I have heard from many
of your denouncement of the Warp God. I came to w-w-wish you pe-peace of
mind.
"

Z'szytheis doffs the hood revealing a middle-aged man. Face full of
wrinkles and scars can be seen. He releases the pressure on the man's arm
replying back, "I am no longer the Butcher. I am but a mere mercenary.
That part of my life is gone.
" As Z'szytheis walks past the man, he turns
his head and says, "Thank you and be well. "




Writer: Vahlen

Date Mon Jan 23 13:09:09 2023

To All Shalonesti Zandreya (Imm RP)

Subject "The Elf's Path to Power" The Journey:II




The story of named Vahlen, who has always been fascinated by the forest and
druid magiks. Learning the lore of creatures, summoning beasts to his will,
healing those who needed it, but the tung at his insides began to shake,
when he once saw the the arcane magic of the warlocks.

Growing up in a peaceful village outside the great forest, Vahlen had never
needed to see the destructive power of magic firsthand, but he had heard
stories of warlocks unleashing devastating spells on battlefields. Which
lit a fire in his soul, and began to long to learn how to harness that
power for himself.

Vahlen's unfortunate opportunity came, when his village was attacked by a
group of unrully orcs. The village's druids and warriors came out to fight
them off, even though the did it bravely, they were no match for the orcs'
brute strength and weapons. Vahlen hide behind a tree and watched in horror
as his fellow village friends and All of his family were slaughtered before
his eyes.

In that moment, Vahlen swore that he would do whatever it takes to become
strong enough to protect his people, and took off his druid robes, left
all his herbs behind. He knew that the only way to achieve that was to
learn how to become a warlock.

Vahlen set out on a journey to find a warlock who would take him as an
apprentice. He traveled through the forest, mountains and the All the
Kingdoms, asking around for anyone who knew about warlock training.

Finally, he found an old warlock behind the witches store, with in
New Thalos, who was willing to let him review the books of warlock
magic, and teach him how to read them. The Warlock was a gruff and
harsh teacher, but Vahlen was determined to learn. He studied day and
night, learning how to harness the power of the elements, summon
familures, and create deadly spells.

But Vahlen's training was not limited to magic. The warlock also taught
him how to fight with a daggar and how to survive in the wild. He also
taught him about the dangers of succumbing to the dark side of magic
and how to control his emotions. Learned to appreciate the goddess of
nature, Zandreya, keeper of good, evil and undecided balance of both.

As Vahlen's training progressed, he began to realize that the power he
sought came with a heavy price. He had to make sacrifices and deal with
the consequences of his actions. He had to make choices that would affect
not only him but also those around him. Studied and hunted down creatures
in the Hedgemaze, Great tree, Silversands, the unholy rip with in New Thalos,
and the Blazing Aurora near the Verminasia kingdom entance.

Vahlen's training was finally complete, and he returned to his tiny village
as a warlock. His people were shocked to see him for they thought he had
died in the orc onslaught, but they were also surpried to see he no longer
had the joy in his eye, nor wore the druid robe, but to see that he had
returned with the power to protect them. Vahlen, found the orcs still in
his village, and confronted them viciously used his new powers to drive
off the orcs, saving the village from opression. From that day on, with
in his tiny village Vahlen was known as a powerful and wise warlock,
respected and feared by All who knew him. He had achieved his goal of
becoming strong enough to protect his people, but at the same time, he
had also learned the importance of responsibility and the heavy burden
that came with power.

Leaving his protected tiny village, Vahlen left to understand the great
mysteries of the Shalonesti kingdom, to explore the greater world around
him, while time to time, checking on his former village when ever the time
allowed it.

Vahlen, warlock for hire.




Writer: Euterah

Date Mon Jan 23 17:24:34 2023

To Dragoth Darkonin Maynj IMM All (RP)

Subject Five Fingers



To oversimplify is a bad course of action, the Witch understood that and
had done much thinking to intervene impulsively. The raid had gone well.
There was a diverse group that had gathered to hunt and they had succeeded,
none had lost, All had gained. She had enjoyed the excursion, as much as
she usually enjoyed such a venture, nothing had changed in that regard.

This world was becoming much more complicated the older she grew. The more
she saw and heard.

The Witch was indeed glad to be neither god nor leader. She was pleased to
be able to focus locally on Darkonins people, the preservation of their
traditions, ways and history, the continuation of their development. The
future of the people of Darkonin, it concerned her greatly as it always did.
It revealed her devotion to a god she understood barely that had blessed her
from the time she had mewled first cry on this plane.

Jupu was restocking her shelves as Euterah entered the Darkoninite.
Purveyor, sometime confidante had seen the Witch through many times of her
life, early times learning within the Tower to times as Queen. The smaller,
wily gobliness had given Euterah good advice. The Witch appreciated her
presence since losing her handmaid Klaer to a new order of service. She
dearly wished she had those mentors that she could once rely on. Yet, she
would continue her trust in Maynj, she knew him before, he would make good
as King.

Has the King come by of late, Jupu? To check on the Tower?

'Has in past, not of late, he will come. He will do. '

'There is much for him to do, I fear he feels as if he cannot rely on others
to give him aid. Though I have not seen him fail. I pray gods aid him.
'

'Yup, Mistress, gods bless. '

The Witch agreed, so much to do and All time seemed to be ebbing away like a
bit of caught cobweb. She went up the stairs, meaning to clean. She
instead sat by the window and brooded. There was much to consider. She
instead set her mind to prayer, seeking, reaching.




Writer: Qynchyl

Date Mon Jan 23 23:15:52 2023

To All Aymer Conclave ( Imm RP )

Subject A Saddle for Aymer (Part 3)



Qynchyl takes a cross-pein hammer and lightly taps the hardened clay
around the cooled metal forms. She inspects the cast metal as she pries it
from the broken mold. Meticulously, she heats the cast arcanium in the hot
forge until it glows, shapes the metal towards its final form, and quenches
it in water over and over. With each strike of her hammer, she guides the
metals to their final shapes, strengthening them with each tempering pass.

With the last few passes, she punches through the hot metal, marking the
places for rivets and other connection points. As she inspects the work,
she decides to make minor adjustments to the placement of the connection
points. Though it would require more leather and pins, these connection
points would allow the metal frame to disassemble into a more compact
configuration when not in use. She grinned in satisfaction at her
adjustments as she wiped the grime from her goggles.

With the aid of a golem size tree trunk with a pumpkin for a head, Qynchyl
begins assembling the base of the harness. The structure is metal straps
over each shoulder of the golem with thick plates of arcanium secured at the
front and back. Each metal strap has a series of rings on the front side
with leather cords attached and passed through. Along the sides of the
trunk, a series of leather laces lashes the sides of the base. As she steps
back, she checks for the security of the harness to the golem substitute,
adding extra cording if truly needed or not.

Now that she finished the base of the harness, she can focus on the saddle
or seat.




Writer: Tief

Date Tue Jan 24 20:36:12 2023

To All imm religion

Subject Settling



The gnome tread lightly, deliberately ignoring the workers buzzing around
him. He was no threat to them, nor they to him. He checked the clockwork
honey trap beneath one of the thirty hives. It was working as designed, and
he had a growing understanding of the mechanical structures.

Only two weeks ago, the last crate of notebooks had arrived at the
monastery. The gnome and family had moved back to the Arkanian continent,
where the gnome's priesthood had begun. This was home then and home now.
The expansive botanical gardens welcomed the gnome, away from the cities and
the noise.

An eternity, two months ago, the gnome had retired for the second time. He
was determined this would be the last. There were new responsibilities for
him, new leadership for the Gray Church, and perhaps new adventures in the
future. He would have time to miss being Elder later. Right now, the
gnome's only concern was checking another three hives, then there was a book
to read, and a walk in the woods.

Time to step out of the world, if it let him.




Writer: Euterah

Date Thu Jan 26 01:42:44 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Thu Jan 26 15:30:56 2023

To All Drakkara Shadow Verminasia Imm RP Religion

Subject Broken Home (Part One)


Wyltte sat in front of the massive hearth in Valhalla, a roll of leather
working tools splayed out on the massive wooden board. He was working on
fixing his torn leather tunic, his back the small crowd that was gathered
there for evening drinks. Scars criss-crossed the skin of his large back,
some old, most of them new. He was getting his arse kicked often across
Algoron, taking on throngs of enemies who far outnumbered those of Storm
Keep. Yet still he fought on, learning his limits, and paying the cost in
bodily pain. He quietly stitched up his ripped tunic as Grinhilda
approached from behind with a massive plate of food.

"Kayen, I have yer order if ya vant it ready. Place it on the board?" She
asks him. Wyltte heard her say his adopted family's name, as the corner of
his eye twitched just slightly.

"Aye" he said, his voice low in the loud hall. "And you don't have to
address me so formally. Wyltte is just fine"
he said. The massive plate of
roasted elk with vegetables steamed on the table. He sat his tunic down
half completed and turned his body towards the food. His hair had started
to grow out a little, and a few wild locks started to fall into his eyeline.
He brushed it back and reached for his horn of mead. Raising it up and
looking at the ceiling, Wyltte called out a toast. "To the Goddess
Drakkara, the Darkness within"
he calls out, then takes a large pull from
the horn.

A few of the other Vikings and Nords took note of Wyltte eating by himself,
and walked over to Grinhilda at the bar. Wyltte listened but continued
dining. He was good at paying attention to his surroundings, as most of the
world wanted him dead and would jump on a moment's hesitation.

"Grinnie, what does tha' sand dweller bae doing in 'ere, eh? Did he get
lost or somethin'?"
A fire-haired nord asked, his friends laughing. They
were All well in their cups. Grinhilda placed her hands on her hips and
gave the man a large scowl.

"Ya best be vatching yer vagging tongue, ya drunken sheep-hugger. He'd
split ya in half sooner than he vould listen to yer vords"
she replied. She
started preparing large mugs of ale to bring to a few patrons signaling for
drinks. "Besides, ya alvays be paying his tab, unlike your broke arse" she
said. She picked up the massive mugs and headed over to the table.

The young nord was undeterred, strutting over with some bravado to where
Wyltte sat. "Oy, you... Don't they bae servin' better food in yer castle,
Kayen?"
He asks. His friends stood behind him, but perhaps a step or two
behind. Wyltte didn't put down his utensils as they stood over him,
finishing the large mouthful before responding.

"You lads must have me mistaken for someone else. I don't live in a castle,
I am no lord. Just a man who puts bodies in the grave for a living in the
name of the Goddess"
. At this Wyltte looks over to the group of young men,
the firelight brightly reflected in the amethyst reflection of his new eye.
The young men stepped back immediately as they saw Wyltte's eye staring up
at them. He slowly stood from the table, and the shadows danced All around
him as he stood between the fire and the men, a massive shadow lighting over
their faces. All that could be seen was his silhouette and his shining
amethyst eye. "So before you start speaking on matters of home, should you
not be finding your own soon?
" he says in a menacing whisper. The younger
men almost fall over themselves backing away and heading out the door.

Grinhilda shouted after the men as they fled, then glanced over to Wyltte
who was settling down in his seat again. She came over to him with a
disapproving gaze.

"Don't worry, Grin, I'll cover their tab. They left at my... Request" he
said. Grinhilda gave him a small smile and nodded.

As she went about cleaning the scraps from some departing customers and
placing them into a bowl she uses to feed her warhounds, she made small
talk.





Writer: Wyltte

Date Thu Jan 26 16:24:16 2023

To All Drakkara Shadow Verminasia Imm RP Religion

Subject Broken Home (Part Two)


Wyltte was nearly finished with his food as Grinhilda went about
cleaning. It was close to midnight and only a handful of customers were
left.

"Any vord from the vife? I know ya have been busy since ya came back, but
vondering if she had made her vay to Storm Keep as you have."
Wyltte sat
back slightly from the table. Pushing the now empty plate away from him
towards the center of the board. He took a long pull from the mead horn
before answering.

"No, nothing yet. She seems time differently than I do" Wyltte replies,
looking down at his hands. They were thick with callous from his field time
in Gogothath and from the fray, but he could see the telltale signs of his
age from the elasticity and color of his skin. He was praying for the
Goddess to give him more time, but perhaps death was not the curse he
thought it was.

Grinhilda clucked her tongue, and walked over to the remaining patrons. One
was flat passed out with his head down on the table. She shook him slightly
to try and wake him up, but to no avail. She walked back over to the bar,
glancing over to Wyltte as she does. "What about the rest of the Kayens?
They happy to have you back?"
She asked. Grinhilda grapped a large bucket
and started back over to the passed out patron. Wyltte watched her as she
reared back and sloshed the whole pail of water onto the sleeping man. He
woke with a start, sputtering and cursing as the water hit him.

Wyltte thought for a moment before answering. "Don't much know... Because
the line, well, is All be gone. There are a few ghosts haunting the halls,
but it wasn't as it was before."
Wyltte paused a moment before continuing.
"Though there were only a few Kayens that ever really saw me for me, and
they are now..."
Wyttle trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. He
finished the horn of mead, and laid it in the iron holder. Grinhilda was
rummaging through the coin purse of the soaking wet patron, who though now
awakened couldn't see straight to pay his bill. Wyltte stood once more, and
buckled on the leather tunic to his large frame. The dark leather had
hundreds of gashes.

Wyltte fastened the broach of his cloak with the silver brooch depicting a
howling wolf, the crest of the Kayen family. As he started at the emblem,
he remembered what a friend had told him once. Wyltte was always more a
bear than he ever was a wolf. A lone entity, not made for the pack. He
stared down at the emblem for a few more moments as he heard Grinhilda clear
hear throat. He looked over to see the man stumbling about. He strode over
and helped him completely to his feet, escorting him to the door. The man
staggered through the door and into the street at the threshold. Wyltte
turned back to go inside and gather the rest of his own belongings.
Grinhilda had already whisked away the plate and had neatly wrapped up his
tools.

"Grin, I don't think that anyone I knew from the past will awaken" he says,
pausing for a moment as he closes his fist, purple tendrils of energy
swirling around his hand as he calls upon the Goddess magic of protection.
He gathers his pack and places a large stack of coins on the bar top.
Walking to the door, he gives Grinhilda a quick look back.

"A broken home is still a home for those who return to its shattered walls."
Wyltte reached his hand to the basilisk fang on his side as he turned away,
scanning the street for signs of life. "But one day you have to decide if
you should set a match to it all"
he says, stepping out of Valhalla and into
the frozen night air.

Grinhilda continued cleaning the hall, her face somewhat sad after hearing
Wyltte's words. He was a regular customer there, and carried the Viking
blood proudly despite never taking residence in Nordmaar. She knew he
waited his whole life for a place to belong, only to have it All taken away.
No one deserved that, but life is what it is.




Writer: Symantha

Date Thu Jan 26 19:06:18 2023




Writer: Penelopina

Date Fri Jan 27 12:14:13 2023

To All Justice New_Thalos Immortals Taliena

Subject Every Now and Zen!



{pAaaaand... Done!

{pPenny hopped lightly to her feet, the lithe half-elf still as limber as
ever, and easily bounce on her heels, shaking her hands and dispelling any
lingering tensions. Around
{pthe garden, others were doing much the same,
some slower, more labored, than others. Still young, and part elven, Penny
was a bit more flexible than most. Some of the others,
{pfull human, or else
elderly, or used to a more sedate lifestyle, were groaning and complaining
of aches and pains. She smiled All the same, knowing they'd feel better
soon.

{pDespite what some would claim, Yoga was not the same as being stretched on
the rack. And she had carefully chosen her exercises to ensure that
everyone could, to a greater
{por lesser degree, at least attempt them.

{p'Whew! That was fun! I feel refreshed! {p' she exclaimed, heading over to
the ice water and pouring a glass, offering it first to anyone who needed
some before taking a
{plong drink herself. It was a reasonably sunny day, if
a bit cool, and some of them had managed to work up quite the sweat despite
her insistence on taking it easy.

{p'So! How is everyone feeling? {p'

{p'Stretchy, {p' Rahma replied, earning giggles from All around at her frank
remark. Fae-Fae's Teta was surprisingly limber for a woman of her age,
though she said she had
{psome experience with working out. It showed. She'd
kept up with the younger crowd with no problem. And sometimes even better
than they had.

{pBragin, by contrast, seemed like he spent a little too long sitting about,
and not enough time active. He was clearly in pain, though the fact that he
had even bothered to
{ptry spoke volumes. 'So I suppose the lesson here is...
Love hurts?
{p' he asked with no small degree of sarcasm.

{p'It's a good kind of hurting though! {p' Fae-Fae, or Faeryn, protested.
'Makes you feel so alive and energized! {p'

{pThat was true, but Penny decided to sum up her sermon and her yoga lesson in
another way: 'No, the mortal is... This was All you. You get out of this
what you put into it. {p' That was the point of her sermon, and of self-love
in general. You needed to make the effort, because you were worth it. And
even if you made the effort,
{pbut did so full of negative energy, sarcasm,
bitterness... You wouldn't really reap the benefits. Better to go forward
with an open mind and positive intentions.

{pThe Executor of Justice evidently agreed. 'I will say that this was a novel
idea and I'm glad folks did attend. I can tell Miss Penny put time into
it's preparation.
{p'

{pPenny nodded enthusiastically. 'Thank you! {p'

{pOthers chimed in with their support, citing it as a fantastic idea, and
Penny soaked in the positive vibes, savoring the warmth and energy of her
friends and family that
{pbanished dark thoughts, negativity, and even the
winter cold. It was All very zen. While the yoga lesson and Taliena sermon
had ended, things were only just getting
{pstarted. So she left them All with
'And may this positivity and good health be with All of us in the coming
days and weeks and months, as we embrace the new year and the possibilites
to be found within!
{p'

{pEveryone nodded in unison, young and old, man and woman, those who fought in
the fields or those who tended the lands. Everyone here was in full
agreement. Even Bragin was smiling.

{pAnd the future looked a little brighter already.




Writer: Z'szytheis

Date Fri Jan 27 19:38:53 2023

To All Marauders Skoden Raije ( IMM RP RELIGION )

Subject A New Path (I)



Frustration overcame the creature. Days went on as he continued
searching for the three individuals as instructed by the large minotaur.
"No, they won't entertain me. " He hissed. Z'szytheis knew this, yet, he
still pursued with hopes of fulfilling the task. He sat and contemplated of
what else could be done to gain Raije's favor. He had recently joined the
Marauders and Darkonin in their recent endeavors. It dawned on him.

It was time that he leave the fray in pursuit of a greater cause. To undo
what was done at the Ironclad Fort -- which he had a hand in doing.
Sheathing his weapons, as he made his way to the Fort. Chills crawled up
his spine as he walked within the walls, seeing the tainted ones hung. "And
so it begins.
"




Writer: Akheag

Date Sun Jan 29 18:30:30 2023




Writer: Delsaran

Date Mon Jan 30 12:04:10 2023

To Shalonesti Shalonesi_Kingdom All ( Imm RP )

Subject In Pursuit of Research, Part 3: The Beginning of the End



Delsaran diligently swept ashes that were scattered around the containment
field of the Sha'enlas Room of Repose.

"Well that's that." As he walked back to his desk, he recalled back to his
many late nights researching. On the desk were his research notes. What was
once scattered notes and papers is now bound in a textbook. The research
notes is now an encyclopedia of Wu Jen magic. It details everything about
the spells with exhaustive research experiments. There are even notes that
question the very nature of the elements. However, what it lacks is the
Discipline of Water.

Delsaran thinks to himself, "Wind, Earth, Fire, and Metal are done. Now it's
time to move to the final element, Water." He then closed the cover of the
research notes. "It's time to start over again. I can't believe what I do
just to pursue knowledge."




Writer: Wyltte

Date Mon Jan 30 13:52:49 2023

To All Piknim Drakkara Imm RP Religion Shadow Verminasia

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Bastion (Part Three)



Wyltte stood over the large rectangular dark mahogany table reading
reports from the field. His mind had been preoccupied with a great many
things. The Goddess, family, his very place in the world at times, but he
knew he could not let the situation fall apart. He read each parchment
carefully, the burning candlelight sending shadows throughout the room.

He hadn't heard anything from Corvus as of yet, but he thought he would have
felt it should something negative would have occurred. Each of the reports
detailed the endeavors of Countess Cracklespark's forces. Valyri and Mykkel
were watching for signs of the plague while defending the borderlands, and
Gorren moved from town to town looking for signs of the warp.

Kaerick coming along when he did was a blessing from the Goddess. Wyltte
knew the moment he spoke with him that he held the spirit of a Grand
Inquisitor. Should there be a thought hiding, he would find it. His faith
steeped in the vileness of Dragoth also gave him more understanding of the
plague. These were details Wyltte knew were important, and they could not
be overlooked. Piknim was also busy with a great many things, but her
people were everything to her. She worked hard and earned her place in this
world. Wyltte would not let her down either.

He paced about the room, but stared at one report in particular. River and
the swamp rats had written of a disturbing trend. Many of the towns they
encountered along the marshlands that were empty had signs of deliberate
sabotage. The corpses of the infected were always seemingly planted. This
was no zombie horde, no uncontrolled spread. It appeared to be deliberate.
Bodies were placed in communal places, dropped into wells, grain silos, and
even outhouses. It was methodical and with more than just a random pattern
of events. This was a deliberate and knowledgeable campaign, set to
destabilize the population. When you cannot live your day to day life
without fear, everything becomes a much grander waste of energy.

Wyltte picked up a parchment from the roll behind him, as well as a big
feathered quill and bottle of ink. Unrolling the parchment, he stops for a
moment before writing the first words. As he peered through the dancing
firelight, he began to notice the "eye" carving and the black moon looking
back at him through his amethyst ocular sphere the Goddess gifted him with.
He imagined the words forming on the paper in a reddish glow before he even
started the first quill stroke.

{oGrand Inquisitor,

{oThere are souls there who poison on purpose, whose depravity choose to pray
on Verminasians for their own twisted agenda.

{oFind those who know the town the best, who have deep roots and know the
vulnerabilities.

{oFlay open their souls to find the truth, Inquisitor.

{oIn Service,

{oWyltte Kayen
{oSupplicant of Storm Keep





Writer: Z'szytheis

Date Mon Jan 30 13:58:10 2023

To All Marauders ( RP IMM RELIGION RAIJE )

Subject A New Path (II)



Granted entrance once again to the Fort Ironclad, Z'szytheis begins to
notice the taint left behind by the Warp. Ominous, causing terror within
his own mind. The havoc that was wrought upon the Fort was something he no
longer wanted to think about. Within the walls, as he walked by every
tainted wall, and every hung marauder that was tainted, he felt.. Guilt.
Nodding his head in acknowledgement as he passed by the citizens, All he saw
were unhappy faces.

"Butcher.. It's the Butcher! " the guards voices quivered and the citizens
clamored. Z'szytheis always stood tall as he walked and strided with pride
but in this instance, his head looking at the ground as he slumped his
shoulder. Clearly, ashamed of his past involvement within the Fort. He
comes across the captain of the guard at the west gate and salutes him, in
return is saluted back. "Captain, I've returned but not to strengthen
this.. Taint. I've returned to help rid of it and return the Fort to it's
former glory before the eyes of Raije.
" Almost as if given a slight amount
of hope, the eyes of the captain glistened with joy. "To make right of what
went wrong, Butcher.. It is only right. You have returned at the right
time.
"

Z'szytheis snorts, "Aye, captain. And I no longer go by that title.. I'm
but a mercenary.
"




Writer: Euterah

Date Mon Jan 30 19:00:23 2023




Writer: Qynchyl

Date Tue Jan 31 00:44:51 2023

To All Aymer Conclave ( Imm RP )

Subject A Saddle for Aymer (Part 4)



The gnome saws down hand-width lengths off the long piece of deadwood.
Then she steams and sets them into forms until they have the desired curvy
"L" shape. With these small planks, she drilled a series of holes in the
edges. Next, she applied a paste to each peg before hammering it into the
hole on one side of the plank. Then, she lined up the holes on another
plank to marry the planks together with a series of solid taps with her
heavy mallet. This process repeats until she has a slab wide enough for two
gnomes. 'This shouldbe bigenough foroneelf, ' she says to herself.

Qynchyl adjusts the settings on the pedal-powered scroll saw to her tiny
frame. She pedals with her feet lashed to a set of softwood blocks as her
feet do not quite reach. Slowly, she guides the attached planks cutting the
rounded shape of a seat with short back support. The blades overheat and
snap several times as the hardness takes its toll on the thin metal blades.
Eventually, she carves out the desired shape and smoothes the rough edges by
sanding.

With a large section of bull leather, she upholsters the seat, stuffing it
with cloth batting for minimal comfort. Next, she creates holes in the seat
for the various attachment points. Qynchyl creates a netting out of leather
strips as she weaves sides to the saddle. Then she anchors several leather
straps with hooks and clasps on opposite sides to secure a person in the
seat in seven different directions. The seat is now ready to be fitted to
the rest of the saddle.

To connect the seat to the harness, she cuts two strips of arcanium the
width of the finished wood piece and welds a square bracket on the center of
each strip. Then, she bolts them under the seat, across the front and back,
with the ring facing away from the seat.

Next, she slides a bar with holes at regular intervals and a U shape on each
end through the brackets. She then hooks a locking pin through the holes to
secure each together. Using the stabilizing bar with a U shape on one end,
she connects the other end to the back part of the seat bar. This
connection and the rest use similar locking pins that keep the seat in place
along its bar.

Now, she needs to connect the saddle to the harness. For this part, Qynchyl
takes the center bar and pins it through the square brackets on the cross
straps of the harness. She then slides the front U of the seat bar into the
center bar at neck level and locks its position with a pin. Qynchyl slides
the U end of the stabilizing bar until the seat is horizontal to the ground
and locks that into place with a pin. Lastly, she stabilizes the saddle to
harness using many leather ties.

As she makes her final adjustments to the saddle and adds several more
lengths of leather in places that already have an abundance, she finishes by
adding a simple corded rope ladder to the back of the saddle.

'Inspectiontime!' Qynchyl shouts as she scuttles out of the Arcanist's
Craftstation in search of Vizier Aymer to show the completion of her
project.




Writer: Andreyna

Date Tue Jan 31 14:01:19 2023

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Lindanilis Laendyn Gabriela Symantha Shadow Verminasia Zandreya Imm Rp Religion Xenophon

Subject The White Lights- A Fork in the Path



Andreyna walked around the elven kingdom, from light to light, patches of
alabaster grass with a golden tips had begun to grow, the lights were now
rushing rivers rather than the small streams they once were. 'These leaves,
Majesty, they were Vallen leaves?
', came a soft voice beside her, a young
elven maid who often accompanied the Queen. The Queen-Priest nodded,
'Indeed they were, the Chancellor showed me one. It was dark in color,
where as the Bishop's was a more light color.
'

The pair continued to walk quietly through the forest, their elven footsteps
leaving no sound or trace of their presence. 'What does the Chancellor
think of them?
' Andreyna cleared her throat and took a deep breath, 'Well,
she thinks that we are connected somehow- the Darkness and the Vallens, and
I do agree.
' Andreyna's voice grew quiet as she exhaled slowly, 'It just
puts the Vallens in a tough spot, but we have to do what is best for the
Vallens and the Balance.
'

The elf maiden gave her Queen a comforting look and soft smile, the young
elf remaining quiet as she listened to Andreyna's words. 'The aurora, the
lights seems to be battling -anything- that is their enemy. The Darkness,
the Warp, and whatever is infiltrating the soil within the Vallens. We saw
it battling the dark mass of tendrils upon Tropica, we see it battling the
Darkness- purifying it, the Dark Lord and his lightscale
', the elfqueen
shook her head slowly as she thought of Telthian and the pain he was
enduring, 'And we are seeing what it is doing to the Vallens, it is
purifying everything around it.
'

'What will we do, your Majesty? ', the elf-maiden's voice came softly. 'I
do not know exactly what just yet
, Andreyna replied back as their walk
continued, 'the soils must be purified and perhaps the lights will find
nothing here to 'cleanse', but there is also the matter with the tree.
There are lights coming from the tree. I believe the White Moon is
overtaking the Black within the tree.
'

The elf-maiden nodded in understanding before speaking again, 'Do you
believe that the Balance is being affected?
' Andreyna stopped along the
path they were walking and turned to face to the elf-maiden, 'I do. I
believe the Light currently has the upperhand. With the aurora, the lights
here, within the Fort and around the Orbs, with the lightscale upon the Dark
Lord
', Andreyna nodded slowly to herself, before looking up to the elf-maid
again, 'I do, and it is possible that we must do something that no one has
ever thought that we would do before.
'

Andreyna turned back to face the path. A fork lay ahead of them- the one on
her right leading into a sunlit clearing, the other on her left darkening as
it lead deeper into a foggy part of the forest. Straightening her back,
Andreyna led the elf-maid down the left path into the misty haze, 'We may
have join with the Darkness and push back the Light.
'




Writer: Penelopina

Date Fri Feb 3 08:30:35 2023

To All Justice Immortals Taliena

Subject A Study of Birds!



{pOpinicus.

{pLoosely related to gryphons, Opinicus was seemingly part avian, and part
mammal. Overall, they seemed very cat-like, covered in a fine fur, save
{pfor
the feathered wings, which seemed more eagle-like. All a pale shade of
white, like a snowy owl. She had gone and sketched a few pictures, and
{pwas
now studying them at her desk, unsure of what to make of them.

{pHer task was an odd one, after all. Find out if Opinicus laid eggs. Not
for eating (heavens no) but for the purpose of roosting and hatching.

{pThe kettle began to whistle, and Penny glanced up, scooting over to the
black pot sitting over the fire. Gingerly, she took some thick gloves and
{pmoved the hot metal vessel and set it down somewhere more comfortable,
taking a moment to lift up the lid and peer inside at the boiling waters.

{p'Comfy in there? {p' she asked with something of a smirk.

{pA chirp greeted her, as Sunset fanned her hot wings, sitting in the bubbling
hot water without a care in the world. She might not have known much
{pabout
Opinicus (yet), but Penelopina Starflower Sha'evlas had learned quite a bit
about baby phoenix since taking in the little chick. Prominently,
{pthey
liked it hot. It made caring for her challenging, but worthwhile.

{pThe boiling kettle now rested on a hot plate, Penny left her little phoenix
to her bath while she returned to her research, trying to figure out
{pmore
about the elusive opinicus. She wasn't sure she had ever seen a mated pair,
let alone children, but they seemed to be intelligent creatures,
{psurely
there must have been some evidence of a family structure. There were a few
reports of younger Opinicus without wings, suggesting they
{pacquired them
later in life. And given their, er, parts seemed to be feline, it suggested
live births. Like lions or tigers. Either way, they
{pwere living, breathing
creatures. Not abstract embodiments of light and holiness or such. They
were born, they lived, and when the time came,
{pthey died.

{pPenny paused briefly as she penned that down in her notes.

{pThe weight of what had transpired in Shalonesti still weighed on her,
despite her efforts. But the Executor's new plan may have indeed been a
{pbrilliant way to atone for such. A way to make up for past mistakes and
help see things healed.

{pShe hoped, at least.




Writer: Akheag

Date Fri Feb 3 20:33:51 2023

To All imm admin scorn boof

Subject Cashing in the goods



Akheag stomped into the room and bellowed a loud greeting. 'Elf! Its
about time you picked up this piss wine. It presence was starting to make
me feel like I should start braiding hair and picking flowers'.

The elf offered a sly smile. 'If you hadn't made such a mess when acquiring
it, you wouldn't have had to wait so long for your payment. I couldn't be
seen carting a wagon full of recently stolen wine back into the Vallens.
Not to mention you killed a pile of people as loudly as possible'.

This got a thunderous laugh from the fanged dwarf. 'Maybe if you switched
from that piss wine, I could have sampled the goods and a few more of those
twigs might have survived'.

'No one pays like the elves' the man replied. 'You would have to sack all
of Thaxanos enough ale to make this kind of profit'.

Puss Eye had slithered from the shadows and the goblin now stood near the
dwarf. 'My scouts report that there are only two vineyards left that are
capable of producing this strain of grape. How would you like to proceed'?


The elf paused for a moment 'Burn the farms and destroy the vines. The
vintage only remains valuable if it cannot be reproduced. My storage
facilities are full and it's to risky to expand now'.

'Now that we can do! ' the dwarf screamed while slamming his fist against
his chest. 'If we're done, I want my money'!

The elf reached behind him and handed a finely woven bag to the dwarf.
'Another metallic shedding? I'm not sure how you keep getting these, but
soon I'll look half a dragon. Does the poor bastard have any skin left'?

With a shrug, the elf looked from the goblin to the dwarf 'This is the last
of them. For many, a bauble is worth more than their honor'.

The elf ushered the group from the storehouse as he lectured them. 'I'll
let you know when I have another job. Don't make wrapping up this one up a
complete bloodbath'.

It didn't take long for the group to reach the workshop, but by that time
the fanged dwarf was in a frenzy. 'Send word to the crew! ' he barked 'And
arrange a wagon! I want to make sure we have another retirement fund lined
up'.




Writer: Hrentun

Date Sat Feb 4 09:00:16 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Sat Feb 4 14:31:11 2023

To All Shadow Verminasia Imm Drakkara Cayenna

Subject Broke Home (Part Three)


Wyltte wandered up and down the quiet Verminasian streets as the Dark
Lord left the province. The smell of roses filled the air, old peat moss
stuck between some of the cracks in the cobblestones. The Dark Lord pointed
out a great many fine houses in a state of disrepair, the homes of noble
families now dilapitated and rotten.

The Dark Lord shows him the gates of the small stone cottage where Shay and
Sorcia Kayen used to live. He explained how the Kayen line changed with
time, from the path of simple evil with a vision to a complicated line with
entitlement. Wyltte often wondered where he felt in with this world of
nobility.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver medallion, the image of a
howling wolf embalzoned on the tarnished metal. The Kayen family crest,
given to him upon his adoption to the line of Kayen. Wyltte was far too
young when he was found on the steps of the Temple of Mencius by the
barbarian tribe to remember where his true family was, albeit he had some
small flashes of them. His massive father in his Gaarenborg attire, his
mother with her stormy gray eyes, and his sister... Spitting image of his
mother. Souls lost to him, which was similar to the souls lost in wearing
crests just like this.

Wyltte held the silver medallion up to the iron gate, looking at the old
stone house and the Kayen crest together. What was he upholding anymore?
Where does his loyalty lie?

It is no longer in his adopted family, for very few walk or wake.

It was no longer in his biological family, his parents lost to the ether and
a sister never accounted for.

Wyltte turned the medallion over and over again, pondering what would become
of it. Should he remain a Kayen, he was not a pack member like the wolf
imagery suggested. What remained was not who he was.

Wyltte turned his back to home and leaned against the old stone fence,
sliding down the wall until he sitting on the pathway, rose pedals blowing
down the street with the slightest breeze. He flipped the medallion into
the air and caught it with a gloved hand. On the back of the medallion was
names he carved into silver. Krystlyn, Nymaya, Ashtiel, Nimiane, Reklah.
Most voices he could never hear again, some only heard like a ghost in the
hallway.

Should he walk away from the Kayen family, there was no new pathway to turn
to. He has only the Goddess and her gifts to seek, her will to follow.

There was no moving forward, no going backwards, only the sound of silence,
the darkness of past lives lost.

There was little he could do at the moment, so he pulled the cloak over his
head and just sat there for hours, letting the dead rose pedals gather
around him as he became just another part of the scenery.




Writer: Bragin

Date Sat Feb 4 19:43:13 2023

To All ( imm religion rp Austinian Taliena Malachive Xenophon )

Subject Purging Corruption



Bragin Sol'Canta watched the oily smoke rise from Tropica that night and
shuddered as he was immediately reminded of happened that morning.

Being bent over heaving the contents of his stomach, suddenly and without
warning, upon the floor of the Temple of Austinian was not how the young
librarian had expected to start the day. He was barely aware of the
comforting hands on his back so unexpected it was. Tears stung at his eyes
but when he finally opened them and saw what exactly he heaved up along with
his breakfast, he basically freaked out.

An oily substance was rejected by his body, but not only that it formed
itself into tendrils almost frantically trying to reach back for him.
Naturally the young man recoiled in frantic fear, even as the mass of
tendrils was stopped. When he finally started to regain his wits he glibly
remarked he thought the darkness within was only a metaphor.

"Corruption, mister Bragin. A thing far worse than Darkness." His friend
has answered.

Bragin was in no position to argue that as ill as he was still feeling. He
was only half aware of the reassuring words that he'd be alright with in a
day or so, but would feel off for awhile. He believed them, but his mind
was spinning even more than usual. So much so he needed a moment to even
process what was said next.

"Now then, my Husband is glad to welcome you into our family. But mark well
the road ahead and the lighthouses on the way. Focus, mister Bragin. No
more meandering."


His mind reeled at that too. The implications of that simple statement were
overwhelming. He had his suspicions but never realized exactly who he had
been speaking with throughout this journey. That what he'd worked so hard
to achieve, through both success and failure, was beginning to be realized.
But not done, this was not the end at all. He had only managed to stare
dumbfoundedly and stammer out a thanks before she departed, both her and
corruption that was purged from his body gone, leaving only the scent of
flowers in the air.

Later that day as he watched the familar oily smoke rise over the Warp,
blotting out the sky above it, he knew there was more work to be done.




Writer: Erebaal

Date Sat Feb 4 23:12:46 2023

To All Kingdom Clan ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Chaos )

Subject Pounds of Flesh I


'Ours is a cause that can ill-afford to waver, not when we court the
abyss' edge so readily. We, who have no more left to lose can afford to
give everything to claim the prize we so ravenously seek.
'

The words issued forth from beneath a ghastly helm, a visage intimately
familiar to All who bore the brand of the Star of Chaos. The Everchosen had
returned, from whence none new. His disappearance had been sudden, a
journey beyond the gates to parts unknown, and his return had been equally
as abrupt, the winnowed Cult not daring to rejoice at the return of their
leader. Cultists had fallen away, seeking other courses, seeking death,
seeking hollow penance in service to the powers that they had scorned in the
name of freedom. They claimed to find no freedom within the control of the
Everchosen, for there was none to be found. There was a dreadful truth to
those claims, for the Everchosen did not offer anything so high-minded as
"freedom" within this life or any other.

'Your lives, our lives, are coin to be spent, a paltry thing to be used to
purchase that which the will of the Warp demands and desires. Our hopes,
our futures died before we were cursed to be brought into this dying world.
The Gods denied us a future, instead forcing upon us a yoke that they called
"destiny", sold us "prophecy" in the name of servitude to their own petty
aims. They would name their puppets "heroes" and march them off to die
swollen with praises and promises, fattened cows to be slaughtered by their
masters' heavenly foes.
'

The gathered Cult shifted uncomfortably, knowing well the promises- or the
lack thereof- that the Everchosen had presented each and every one of them.
There was no glorious future, no afterlife, no parade nor praise, no comfort
nor closure. Theirs was not a better world for which they fought, for to
believe the Everchosen was to believe that the world was beyond such things.
There was no saving a dying man consumed from within by the cankers that
twisted his gut. Instead, they were the purveyors of a twisted mercy, a
final dignity to the man who was yet in denial of his own mortality. An end
to suffering, bought with suffering. Their lives were coin to be spent.

'In my absence, we have been stricken, a blade sinking closer to our heart
with every passing day. An artefact of malignant purity, a vessel of divine
wrath. A sealed lance that bears my name, a promise and threat alike. It
devours our dead God from within even now, and its pain is our own. We, who
have shed and shared our blood to feed its endless hunger. We, who have
massacred and butchered and slaughtered for the sake of his resurrection,
that our great work might not be in vain. The False Gods would deny us even
this, for we dared reach for a future that we would never see, to create a
world our sons would never know. For this, they render judgment, they would
see us burn for our great ambition.
'

The Everchosen stood framed by the dreadful Tree of Pain, its silhouette
twisted and bent. Threads of Light had begun to fracture its chitinous bark
in places, and the extremities of the branches nearest the hateful Pillar of
Light that had intruded upon the Warp's innermost sanctum had begun to
disintegrate. The purification process was slow, but it was inexorable. No
amount of bloodshed, no ritual offering, no incantation within the Warp had
served to halt the consumption. Many had died trying, even before the
Everchosen had returned. Several more were sacrificed merely to satisfy the
demoniacal curiosity of the Warrior-King of Chaos. It was only in the
passing day, with the ill-starred return of other entities within the Cult,
that the Everchosen deigned to rally All who remained in toil within the
fortress rotting in the heart of Tropica's jungle.




Writer: Erebaal

Date Sat Feb 4 23:14:42 2023

To All Kingdom Clan ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Chaos )

Subject Pounds of Flesh II


'And so we shall deny them their feast, and deny them their victory.
They, who feed on what they perceive as corrupt, shall choke upon the glut
that we offer them. We shall profane All that we behold, shall blight all
that we may touch, and shall corrupt All that we may claim. Go forth, my
Cult. Send word abroad, to All who bear the Mark and hold fast to my
promise. Let them know the pain of my return, let their brands sear. Let
those who would listen hear my command, and let those who heed it cast off
their hidden allegiance, for their lives are now over.
'

The room grew quiet and tense, breath held for a moment as the dreadful
commands were issued. That there were hidden members of the Cult the world
over was of no great surprise, for the Everchosen's many departures carried
whispers preceding his return of a black-clad marauder who brought havoc and
strife in the wake of his coming. Bereft of a helmet, the Everchosen was
near-unrecognizable to the layperson. His Abhorrent-sculpted visage was as
much a part of his appearance as his flesh, his armor as integral to his
identity as his twisted exhortations. In his absence, it appeared that the
seeds of corruption were ever flung to the wind, meant to take root wherever
they could and to fester within the unwatched alleys, in the unguarded
woods, in the unloved homes, and in the unattended fanes. The hidden brands
and scars were carefully kept, for to risk exposure meant a death sentence
in every civilized land of Algoron.

'Let them hear the summons and know my will- spare no one. The Warp
requires bodies, not merely to hold arms and fight, but the flesh of the
uncounted many to be worked in the flesh-forges. Bring their carcasses to
me, that they may be learned in what it means to suffer for the sake of a
power greater than themselves in truth. Empty the villages, coerce the
towns. Abscond with the men, the women, the elderly, All lives who may yet
be expended, for the time of our action is upon us. We hang by a thread,
and the flame of Light seeks to burn it through.
'

The heat of his words passed through the gathered Cult, and many eyes looked
skyward to the greasy ribbon of smoke that trailed heavensward. The
flesh-forged were an ugly reality unspoken-of in what passed for polite
conversation among the Cultists. The twisted... Things
that emerged from
the flesh-pits were unpleasant even by the scarred and deformed servants of
the Everchosen's will. They had become the new fodder upon the front-lines,
the recycled remains of the wounded, the unwilling, and the dead. That the
flames burned brightly once more...

'Let the peoples of this world unite as never before beneath our banner of
destruction, my Cult. Let them be joined in body and purpose, for we shall
buy our future with their suffering! Summon the cults, and sweep this land!
Scour it and bring to me my sacrifices! The next great work has been
decided, and with it, we shall carve a new mark of Ruin upon this wretched
world! Death to the False Pantheon!
'

The fervor of the Everchosen was infectious, and a roar went up from those
present, a clattering of mail-shod boots, of malformed flesh, and of
poorly-kept weapons. Those who went afield were not likely to return. The
more obvious of them would be butchered by the guards of civilized lands
before they had fulfilled a single word of the purpose instilled within
them. The more clever among them would begin the great abductions in the
tribal villages around Tropica. Only the most dastardly and ambitious would
seek the means by which to alert the hidden Cults the world over. The
sorcerers, the spies. They were the ones who would see the Everchosen's
grasp extend across nations, across continents. Those taken would be
corralled, by hook or by crook, by raft and boat back to the cursed Tropican
lands. From thence...




Writer: Erebaal

Date Sat Feb 4 23:15:04 2023

To All Kingdom Clan ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Chaos )

Subject Pounds of Flesh III


The Everchosen allowed himself a wolfish smile as his Cult rallied,
energized once more by the will of their leader. The faint crackle of
splitting bone as the purification of Malachive's corpse continued did not
even disturb him, this time. With the tools once more within his hands, the
time had come to carve his hate into the soil. Those who had turned from
his will would know only the pain of his displeasure. Those who heeded him
would play their role or be extinguished. Those who opposed him would be
reminded what became of those who had come before. Their pain would lay the
stones of his path, and at its end beckoned Destruction.

His, theirs, and everyone's.




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Feb 5 14:00:35 2023

To All Verminasia Shadow Wyltte Kaerick Maccus ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Truth Hurts (I)



"Piknim! Piknim!? You still in there? Snap out of it, Sparky!"

The Darkfinder's eyes flew open wide, bloodshot with fever. Perspiration
beaded upon her pallid brow as though Drakkara's moon-mark were weeping.
The warp sickness had taken hold, if only briefly, but what kender spirit
she yet possessed ultimately prevailed. Martingale Flipsilver held her by
the shoulders, propped against the wall, his clear blue gaze brimming with
concern. She flung her arms around him.

"I'm here," the kender witch cried, "I'm still here!"

Over Martingale's shoulder, at the center of the room, Ramshackle Balderdash
ducked, dodged, and tumbled around the iron man in a blur. The rapid-fire
impact of his staff-sling echoed eerily, like rain drops on a tin roof, as
he landed blow after blow to no effect. An enormous double-bladed axe
thundered in response, crashing into floorboards, demolishing wooden support
beams, and rending empty air audibly as it sought to annihilate the kender
jongleur in a single strike. Off to one side, Calumnay Crapehanger reloaded
his flintlock pistol frantically.

"Better late than never!" Martingale enthused, clapping her on the
shoulders.

Piknim grinned madly in response and stepped around him, plucking gourds
from her bandolier and tossing them one after another in quick succession.
The first erupted in an arcane blizzard as it struck the iron man,
razor-shap shards of ice exploding against impenetrable armor and coating it
in shimmering frost. The second burst with a bright flash, flaring red-hot
as it spread across every metal plate and seared the flesh hidden beneath.
The warped juggernaut did not so much as flinch, seemingly immune to mortal
pain.

Ever by her side, Martingale stepped to the fore and drew his rapier - then,
its strange magic caught the Darkfinder's eye for the first time. Brilliant
motes of light in every color spun around the blade's ricasso, like
celestial bodies orbiting the core of a star that blazed in the base of the
fuller. Before her curious eyes the core flared brighter still, as if its
fire were fed by the thrill of deadly danger. "What say you pour me a
drink, Sparky," the gambler invited with a wink. He presented the thin
blade with a flourish.

"Something light."

Piknim's grin widened into that of a Cheshire cat. She plucked another
gourd from her bandolier and popped the cork, releasing tiny whorls of light
in All directions. She applied mystical brew to the blade liberally until
it shined, whetted by liquid light and an imbued ray of truth. The
Darkfinder's eyes burned to look upon it too long. She fumbled the gourd,
spilling the last of its contents. Holy magic erupted upon contact with her
hands, like a spark to kindling, scouring pallid skin and melting what lay
beneath. She cried out in agony, cradling both hands to her breast as they
sizzled and smoked.

Being evil didn't hurt. Being bad even felt good when such deeds were
carried out with pride and purpose. It didn't hurt to bleed a unicorn dry
to cure a dark Queen's affliction, or to torture an enemy for information to
protect Drakkara's kingdom, or to betray the misplaced trust of a disgraced
ally and cull them from the Darkness, or any number of wrongs the Darkfinder
had committed.

This hurt.

The pain of holy magic castigating her body served as a reminder that
everything had changed. Consequences were inevitable. Although the
Kenderkin stood fast yet against the taint of Warp sickness, a bastion of
innocence once thought impregnable had fallen to Darkness. Nothing would
ever be the same.




Writer: Piknim

Date Sun Feb 5 14:08:46 2023

To All Verminasia Shadow Wyltte Kaerick Maccus ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Truth Hurts (II)



The iron man turned slowly, as if attracted to the sound of suffering,
and stalked toward Piknim with the weight of dread foreboding in every step.
Behind him, Ramshackle swung with All his miniscule might and thwacked away
with his hoopak in futility. Martingale moved Piknim behind him and pivoted
to face the advancing enemy, dropping into a fencing stance - but what could
a toy-sized rapier in the hand of a gadabout hope to achieve against a
living wall of iron?

Piknim's eyes flitted about desperately in search of a solution before
settling upon the iron man's cuirass. Although Calumnay's opening shot
proved ineffective, a mundane bullet absorbed by warp-sick battle-frenzy or
regenerated by dark magic, it had punched a hole the size of a copper penny
through the breastplate - a weak point to be exploited. However, striking
at it would be an impossible maneuver, like threading the very needle of
fate. Not even Martingale Flipsilver possessed that kind of luck.

"Hah-hahh!"

As if on cue, Calumnay bounded out of the gloom, loaded flintlock at the
ready. The hammer fell, the fire dust ignited, but no shot resounded - only
the sad fizzle of a misfire. Crapehanger always had the worst luck. "Oh,
what the fu-" he exclaimed, a curse cut short as the iron man broke stride
to punt him across the room like a sportsball. Calumnay struck a pallet of
grain sacks with a dull whump, triggering an avalanche of heavy burlap that
completely buried the hapless pirate.

Martingale seized the opportunity, pushing off his heel in a reckless dash
to close the distance quickly.

The iron man shifted his grip on the double-bladed axe, flipping its broad
head from horizontal to vertical like a gigantic fly-swatter, and dominated
the space before him with a vicious back-handed swing.

However, the kender gambler still had a card to play and pitched himself
all-in with a final burst of speed. He dropped to the floor and slid
betwixt the juggernaut's legs, platinum-blond topknot trailing behind as he
evaded the lethal axe-blade. Ramshackle stood waiting for him on the other
side. The kender jongleur caught Martingale by the hand, hauled him into
the air, and spun in a full circle without breaking momentum, launching him
at the iron man's backside like a cannonball.

Piknim finally understood the play. Calumnay's pistol shot had only punched
a tiny hole through the breastplate's front, but the metal bullet had
expanded to blast an exit hole the size of a kender's fist through the
backplate. Like a game of Nexus Hold 'Em, cards held close to the vest were
every bit as important as the cards on the table.

Martingale's rapier struck true, piercing the iron man's warp-tainted heart
and discharging an imbued ray of truth within its armored shell. Shafts
of light shot through the miasmic gloom, seeping from layers of plate and
pouring through holes in both breastplate and visored helm as holy magic
disintegrated the warp-sick juggernaut's corrupted core from the inside out.
The iron man's double-bladed axe fell to the floor with a resounding clang
and its wielder toppled right behind in a cloud of dust and debris.

The trio of kender crowded around in wide-eyed astonishment. One by one,
they broke the silence that followed.

"We did it! Drakkara be praised! We got 'em!"

"Never doubted us for a minute! Top hole!"

Ramshackle planted the butt of his hoopak upon the fallen enemy's chest with
an emphatic clank, a triumphant grin splitting his child-like features.

"A little help, please," a fourth voice pleaded from beneath a heap of grain
sacks.




Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Feb 5 15:03:01 2023

To Shadow Verminasia Abaddon Black_Robes All ( Imm Drakkara Cayenna Xenophon Tritoch )

Subject The Tide Rises - {uNight's Peace



'{uAll promises of neutrality will be examined...
{u...and falsehoods will be threshed from truths.
'
{u-oOo{u-

Standing vigil upon the battlement of the weathered keep the shadowknight
watched as the umbral storm rolled across the desert as he contemplated this
most recent turn of events. Far across the horizon amethyst lightning
lashed out from the Rip in jagged lines to split the heavens and the
rumbling peal of thunder followed a minute behind that celestial fire.

Stormy clouds crept through the sky and filtered the trinity of moonlight
that washed over Algoron below. Though each moon charted its own circuit,
it was the Dark Moon's phases that ebbed and flowed faster than its
counterparts.

The sway of the Umbra was stronger now that the Goddess had brought the Dark
Moon closer to Algoron than its white or red counterparts. Its influence
became more potent each passing day as the Night Queen continued to redraw
the old order that underpinned Algoron.

Telthian's scarred hand gripped the crenelations as the wind reached him,
his once olive-toned skin now disfigured by Nadrik's creeping affliction
stood out stark and bleached against the dark stone. He basked there for a
time, savoring the piercing pain that stirred again to further transmute him
and the overwhelming intensity of the umbral tide's power. The Goddess'
command roiled the clouds as it rippled outward from the promise of the
jagged sky.

A steely gaze regarded him as she kept watch, Kesepton's expression guarded
and impenetrable, shadows trailing from the fringes of her robes. Whether
her connection to the divine, mere intuition or the long arc of their
connection, she knew him better than any other soul. Even if everything
that led them to this point was breaking still they would keep going.

The lightscale's searing creep through flesh and organs stole Telthian's
attention from the subject of their conversation for a moment and Symantha
redirected them to it after the episode had passed. Dark lunar rays lit
upon the moonspun surface cradled within her palm and the promise it would
deliver to the city.

The elves would embrace the gift, the Arkanians too would be glad for it,
and the kingdoms of Icewall were already grateful for their solitude and the
promise of more. The Marauders were desperate for help. The dwarven High
King had chosen the Light already. The Althainian enclave would be puzzled
but guarded, and the Thalosian Sultan would reject or ignore it and his
personal animus would play into the Dark Queen's hands.

Time would be the judge of their predictions as the pieces moved again.

Lightning crackled above them again as it surged along the chain joining
Storm Keep to the Rip. Flowing onward from the Rip the jagged arcs reached
far across Algoron, disappearing from view beyond the horizon only to
reappear above Verminasia where the umbra coalesced anew, nascent and
guarded.

Waiting to answer the scouring Light of the Aurora some leagues away.




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Sun Feb 5 23:03:07 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Sun Feb 5 23:04:41 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Sun Feb 5 23:43:28 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Sun Feb 5 23:54:15 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Sun Feb 5 23:56:17 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Feb 6 00:09:24 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Feb 6 00:20:47 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Feb 6 00:45:19 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Feb 6 00:47:10 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Feb 6 00:54:16 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Feb 6 00:55:38 2023




Writer: Penelopina

Date Mon Feb 6 14:05:42 2023

To All Justice Immortals Taliena

Subject Happiness in Sadness!



"Saudade"

{pIt was an ancient word in a language Penny didn't recognize (which was,
itself, an accomplishment) possibly a dialect of Serpantol, that had no
direct translation in Common. She
{phad picked it up from a faun wandering
through Shalonesti's Forests some time ago. It described a deep nostalgia
or profound melancholic longing for something
{por someone absent that one
loved. In a way, it was happiness -and- sadness.

{pAnd it perfectly summed up her feelings for the empyrean stone{p now in her
possession, shaped like a teardrop{p.

{pOn one hand, she was thrilled. Much as Penny was happy to cry when the
occasion called for it, this was the first time her tears had turned into
{pa
glowing gemstone. Nor was she the only one, Fae-Fae had the same thing
happen to her. No way it was a coincidence. It had to have been divine
{psignificance. A message from Taliena, the goddess of love, healing, and
peace.

{pIn that context, it was easy to tell why it felt so sad whenever she beheld
it. It was fashioned out of the feelings from the Daughters Day
{premembrance. Even though everyone was happy to be together, united in their
fond memories and their determination going forward, it was a time
{pof
sadness. Kadiya and Siccara were gone. So many others had been lost as
well. Brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, fathers and mothers.

{pPenny lifted her head, gazing out the nearby window. It was raining today,
a thick and heavy downpour. Winter must have been on its tail end,
{pbut
either way it wasn't weather she was anxious to go out in. It reminded her
of long ago, when she'd been younger, and her own mother had been
{pwith her.
How on days like this they'd sit by the window and just watch the skies cry,
watch every little raindrop and naively believe she could
{pcount them All if
she tried hard enough.

{pShe still missed her.

{pHolding the teardrop shaped empyrean stone in her hands, Penny thought it
might have glowed just a little bit brighter. Reflecting her emotions. Her
{pfeelings. She smiled, just a little. Like a good cry, sometimes it felt
better to feel sad and get it out in the open, rather than just bottle it up
{pinside.

{pThen, an idea came to her. Like a bolt of lightning off in the distance, a
flash of insight lit up the mind of Penelopina Starflower Sha'evlas.

{p'Oh, I know just what to do with you, {p' she promised the little gemstone{p.




Writer: Aeshtyn

Date Mon Feb 6 14:35:16 2023




Writer: Aeshtyn

Date Mon Feb 6 14:56:50 2023




Writer: Geirhart

Date Tue Feb 7 11:39:08 2023

To Althainia Arkane Knighthood Wargar Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Justice Rhama Timmel Imm Religion Xenophon Derigimus Whiskey ( All )

Subject Raise the Stone : Song of the Fields III ( Interlude Fin )



Where has the wonder gone?

Oily smoke rose over Tropica signaling a rise in Chaos' response to recent
events. People began feeling the corruption from it. Shalonesti
unwelcoming All then welcoming Shadow. A missing sapling from the Black
Moon and a rise in Shadow a activity. Then the message from Taliena. All
these things swirling around and voices raised to the old priest asking for
advice. Yet for All these worries, Geirhart was saddened by the loss of
Piknim.

He had sought, perhaps selfishly, a break from the toil of the Fray and the
worries of the world. A story to take his mind off things. Yet the witch
had no stories for him, only spite. Their friendship had dissolved, perhaps
from his own lack of communication. Yet it was a final thread that he
didn't wish to see cut.

The old man stared at his desk in the halls of Justice and the parchments
that lay upon it. The thing about kenderkin that people dismissed as
childish is there ability to look at the world in wonder. Their eyes see
things as a child's does but that's not wrong or bad. The world needs
people who see the beauty and amazing places and items that exist within it.
So absorbed with pillars and monoliths, corruption and war, the beauty of
the world is ignored. It was this quality that Geirhart loved about the
kenderkin and now that too was lost.

People are concerned about religions and gods but fail to see the greater
picture. There had been so much death and loss that the balance has been
broken. Life and hope were needed across the realm. War and strife would
only continue to sway the realm towards Drakkara and fear plays into
domination quite well. Thus, Geirhart turned back to the advice of Fynix
and Zarina... The world doesn't need a weapon, it needs something to unify
for.

Putting quill to parchment, Geirhart sent out the beginnings of new letters.
It was time to continue the project in haste.

*TWO MONTHS PRIOR*




Writer: Andreyna

Date Wed Feb 8 13:54:13 2023

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Shadow Xenophon Imm Rp Religion Zandreya Kantilles Nadrik Drakkara

Subject The White Lights- The Treant Comes Home


Andreyna sprinkled water over the moondusted soil surrounding the
delicate treant. She whispered blessings as the clear water from the
Mother's Shalinastra River moistened the ground below. Knights of Shadow
had just finished delivering their moondust, straight from the Rip itself,
ensuring the sapling had blessings from Drakkara as well as Zandreya.

Her heart hurt for the treant, Charredalder. It tried hard to reach the
Vallens and the Mother's waters, but the Light scourged it with its holy
fire. The aurora proving to be too much for a tree of the shade. They had
rescued the tree though- the elves and Knights working together to bring the
fragile sapling to the Vallens, ensuring it would be near the Mother's
waters that it sought and also well within the light of the Black Moon.

Now came the matter of what to do with the sapling. Would they continue to
nourish it and allow it to grow at its own pace? Would it need aid along
the way to protect it from Nadrik's aurora? Would it aid in ridding the
Vallens of the curse upon its lands?

There was so much to do and so little time. The treant must be protected,
the Vallens must be cleansed of whatever was bringing the aurora to
'cleanse' it, and the black mass upon Tropica needed to be found. The
elfqueen took a deep breath as she took a seat next to the treant. The
Shadow Knights had proven once again to be their allies. She truly hoped
she could return the favor and loyalty.




Writer: Wyltte

Date Wed Feb 8 17:09:42 2023

To All Drakkara Cayenna Imm RP Admin Shadow Verminasia

Subject Broken Home (Part Four)


Wyltte sat on the side of the lane for the entire night, his bearskin
cloak pulled over his head like a beggar. He had spent the night in prayer
and contemplation, out in the world where he was hunted, yet as close to a
home as he had ever been. Shay and Sorcia were the alpha, and Wyltte felt
like the Omega of the Kayen line. Was the family line so far removed that
it could not be retied into an endless knot? This was the question that
burned in his mind.

The morning sun sent its godrays into the darkness of the lane. Wyltte
blinked up at the intruding light dubiously. It was a nuisance, but served
its purpose in marking the time. He had spent All night against those cold
walls, pondering the nature of what it meant to be Kayen. In exhausted
dreams he felt he was transported back to those first moments, the guiding
principles which led to their divergence with the Knights of Gareth.

Storm Keep was not an accident, not some petty rebellion over theological
differences. The Kayens knew the slavery of the light took away their
choice, forced their fealty to the Gods. Faith should be freely given, not
forced at the edge of the blade. The nobility of the Kayen line was born
from the strength of their sacrifice, the intentions of their dark hearts.
It was not a question of riches of gold, but a result of the richness of
one's character. Sacrifice and faith were the true currency which the line
of Kayen was founded upon, not diamonds or gold. Sacrifice and Faith was
the only real currency Wyltte had left.

He stood up, stretching his old joints and rolling his shoulders, a pile of
rose pedals falling off the cloak and haphazardly dancing in the wind as it
blew through the lane. Wyltte peered down at the medallion in his hand,
then took one final look at the small stone abode of the first Kayens, the
pioneers with a vision to create a world where those who worshiped darkness
first and foremost could serve in true freedom. Clutching the silver wolf
medallion, he walked purposely away from the house on his way to Storm Keep.

Back in the hallowed halls of Storm Keep, Wyltte cut the wax block in half
and grabbed some carving tools. Carefully he started to draw the mold, the
vision clearly in his mind. With each small manipulation of his hand, tiny
strips of wax melt away and started revealing the pattern within. It was a
slow process, but there was a burning in his heart and mind, a feeling of
purpose. He was finding the soul of what it means to be a Kayen. Each tiny
strip was peeling away the old and creating the new.

Wyltte stopped for a moment to step up from the carving table in the craft
room and stoked the coals of the forge. Their red glow lit the room in a
crimson light, small flickers of orange and yellow casting shadows on the
wall. He had finished the lost wax mold and set it aside. Wyltte glanced
down at the medallion in his hand, turning it over and over again in
contemplation. He raised it to his forehead, the names carved into its
silver metal glinting in the dim light as he closes his eyes and lets the
medal press against his forehead. Wyltte then opens his eyes once again,
his amethyst eye sparkling in the forge fire as he places the medallion in
the crucible. As the silver heated up, Wyltte used his basilisk fang to cut
the palm of his hand. He allowed drops of his own blood to drip into the
crucible, the silver turning a greyish pink color as it liquefies.

With a heavy sigh, Wyltte takes the molten silver and pours it into the lost
wax casting, the sizzling and popping of the wax as it burned away filling
the forge. Wyltte felt a stone lift from his heart as the casting cooled
off. He cracked it open and stared down at the creation of his own hands,
what was old was now new. A new crest, built from the foundations of the
old, but evolved with the changing face of Algoron and the rising of the
dark tide.




Writer: Rorra

Date Wed Feb 8 19:03:50 2023

To All Kingdom Clan ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Chaos )

Subject Metallic Ascension Replication part 1



With the flesh forges ignited, the oily smoke rising as an ominous
reminder that those of the Warp still yet stir, Rorra wasted little time to
make her way into the one place she knew the remnants of inscriptions and
blackened metals resided. Gorlend Warpeye's personal workshop. Though it
had been sealed some time ago in the often crude fashion, as it always was
when things were rushed, the wood and metal barring it were trivial to
remove. With her mere approach, the metal lurched and groaned before caving
inwards, splintering the wood around it and throwing wide the doors for the
feline's ingress.

With this forge having no purpose, much of it had slowly become covered in
bits of debris and dust. The forge sat cold for many years alongside the
errant tools not swept away with Gorlend's flight. Even now, tiny metal
scraps were scattered around the room, though many lacked the essence she
sought. She was not the architect of her own armored form, yet knowing it
intimately, replicating it has been taxing and slow. As she strode to the
central table and placed her hands upon it, scanning it for anything of use,
it was only when she closed her eyes in a brief annoyance that she could
feel it. A small piece of metal is hidden within a tomb of stone adjacent
to the forge.

She turned her head towards the location, eyes flying open, glowing brightly
within the darkness of her helmet. A swift flick of her tail would see
several large splinters of her armor lodging themselves within the
stonework. Though durable, even it could not withstand the fragments
spreading around the cracks it possessed as it was rapidly superheated,
fracturing and turning the rock into a molten liquid, revealing a plate not
unlike her own armor, if slightly darker in color. Moments later, she
mentally yanked it out of the hole left there, bringing it before her
malevolent gaze. The plate itself was unremarkable beyond a sigil etched
into one side of it, to which a soft chuckle echoed dully within the armor.




"To think something so precious was here All along... Perfect. "

Rorra turned her head back towards the central chamber of the Warp and took
a moment to utter a silent message to those that remained without direction
among the cultists.

"Make for the mountains where some of my distant kin reside. Bring every
scrap of metal you can find that is not in use. ALL of it. I will be
preparing things in the center of the mountains. "

With her will made known to those who would lend their aid, she turned to
the distant wall, plucking the malformed dagger embedded within the horned
bark of the tree. A moment of concentration is All it took before she
swiped the weapon downward through the air, ripping open a hole along the
blade's path. Once the dagger was safely back within the confines of her
armor, she took a step closer to the rift, tearing at the edges of it with
both of her hands to allow her to step through to her destination.




Writer: Rorra

Date Wed Feb 8 19:08:01 2023

To All Kingdom Clan ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Chaos )

Subject Metallic Ascension Replication part 2



Stepping out onto a small trail amidst the tall grasses of the valley
between the mountains on the Tropican continent, the armored feline took in
her surroundings. Already several of the local leonines turn to flee due to
stepping through a rift before their eyes, though some of them were brave
enough to stand their ground. Their wood and stone implements were
appropriate, yet their hesitation was their downfall. Rorra reached
outwards, spooking them already, but bands of metal sloughed off and shot
forward toward those who stood in her way, latching on to their weapons and
hands. As she lowered her hands, the metal dragged them down to the ground,
where she would leave them for the others even if it would tax her to keep
concentrating on them from a distance.

Farther down the path, a few frightened denizens seemed to be frantically
explaining what they saw to an elder. Then, the white-furred feline
gestured toward Rorra to interrupt and confirm the story she was just told.
But, well before the armored intruder made it close enough to properly
introduce herself, the elder stood up and called out first.

"Hail, traveler. What brings you to our humble valley? "

"I am glad you asked! A place big enough to forge what I need and plenty of
hands to feed it. Now be good and... Sit. Down. "

This only angered the elder, who pointed at Rorra and uttered an incantation
manifesting a bead of light on their fingertip. The nearby warriors charged
with their spears in hand just as a beam of light shot forth, impacting
against the armored feline's form. Rorra slid back a few feet, regaining
her footing, not expecting a powerful enough entity to reside here, of all
places. Then, slowly, she stepped forward, the glimmering radiant remnants
of the attack flecked in tiny shards as the armor repaired itself as quickly
as it was damaged.

"Tsk... That will not do. Not at all! "

As Rorra whips her tail, smashing it into the ground, several blades break
off, soaring toward the defenders. Each one is controlled precisely to
shatter the wooden hafts of the spears with relative ease, though each
fragment of her armor continues onwards, cutting deep into the arms and
torsos. With a wave of her hand, Rorra sends the shards out across the
grass, leaning forward as she does so. The helmet parts slightly, the jaw
moving as she speaks in a manic tone.

"Come then! Let us play MY way instead! "

She then lifts her other hand as it smolders with an unseen heat before the
hellish flame erupts and runs down the length of her metal-clad arm. Then,
with a peal of nearly crazed laughter, she clenches her hand into a fist,
sending thin streams of flames towards each of the metal fragments,
spiraling outwards to impact with them. Their every movement set the grass
ablaze, quickly turning the field into a hellscape. All of those who sought
to defend their home backed away, including the elder, though they at least
spoke.

"Please! Leave us be! "




Writer: Rorra

Date Wed Feb 8 19:11:07 2023

To All Kingdom Clan ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Chaos )

Subject Metallic Ascension Replication part 3



Rorra ceased to laugh as she stood more upright, coiling her armored tail
against one leg as she regarded the elder. In the bright light in the
valley, even they could see the yellow light in her helmet vanish. Then,
without warning, the flaming shards rip through the others, leaving them
either dead or bleeding out where the cauterization did not take hold of the
raw flesh. The elder, however, was spared this fate. Instead, Rorra strode
toward her, a single thin slit of a pupil emerging from the darkness.

"No... No, how could you do this?! "

The panic in their voice made it that much more delicious for her as the
metal blades returned to their rightful places along the tail armor. Bit by
bit, the gunmetal carapace began to slough off of her body, save for a small
portion to keep the gemstone attached to her sternum, otherwise leaving
Rorra in only the borrowed black and red robe to cover herself with. The
older white-furred feline stared in shock as it became clear they knew their
assailant. Still, Rorra kept one eye shut as the living metal lurched
toward the elder, latching one piece at a time on their body until she could
no longer struggle nor speak another word.

"Nothing more to say? Shame that! The fun is just beginning... " With
what remained of the metal ooze pooling at her feet, she began to carve out
a large swath of the land until finally reaching the point where dirt turned
to rock. Then, she began to roughly create large hollows in the hardened
rock. The task was tedious and very time-consuming to remove one chunk of
the rock at a time on her own. But, at least she had a guest to keep her
company.

"You know, it has been a while since I set foot outside for such an
important task. You should feel honored! Really! You will become a part
of this in the end! "

Rorra turned her gaze upon the metal-bound elder, a toothy grin spread
across her maw. Then, without looking at her work, she simply twisted her
hand, letting her captive audience see the fires burning through the dry
grass.

"All of this you see before you will be put to use for our cause! The rest
of your kin will find a similar purpose to your own too. "

As the sounds of the elder's struggles reach Rorra's ears, she lets a smug
expression wash over her features while she turns away from the captured
feline. Her focus was shifted back toward the arduous task before her.
Every slash and blow against the stone brought her closer to her goal.

Several hours passed with the occasional pained struggle from the elder
amongst the sounds of stone being excavated, though the somewhat rhythmic
sounds were interrupted by several trudging footsteps. Then, as Rorra
turned to look upon the new arrivals and saw many of them bearing the mark
of Chaos on their bodies, she briefly gestured toward the captured elder and
then to the first of the makeshift crucibles.




Writer: Rorra

Date Wed Feb 8 19:14:38 2023

To All Kingdom Clan ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Chaos )

Subject Metallic Ascension Replication part 4



"I hope you captured many of them on the way rather than butcher them
whole. Where is the metal I requested? "

As though on command, several wooden carts crested the hill from where the
rest came from. Many were loaded beyond their capacity with All manner of
jagged and rusted implements of war and armor to pair with it. At the sight
of what she desired most, her lips split wide with a manic grin, her eyes
following suit as, at last, she had the materials she needed. Once the
carts were within a few yards of the roughly hewn stone pit, she reached
out, exerting herself far more than required, but the desire to begin was
far too great. With how haphazardly the weapons and armor were stacked in
the cart, it lifted off the ground a few feet before crashing back down to
the earth while most of the metal was carried off by her force of will into
the pit. The pieces that clattered to the ground were quickly scooped up by
a half-ogre and a goblin.

"Finally! I can begin! Now, twenty of you, get to making another pit. I
will need another one soon enough. The rest of you! Round up any others
still lurking around here. Beat them, but do NOT kill them. Drag them back
to the Warp and deliver them to him. "

With so many prepared for the next step, she lifted the other hand with an
upturned palm that held within it a small flame. Rorra slowly brought it
before her eyes, concentrating on it through half-lidded eyes.

"Unto the endless void, draw forth the unquenchable flames and bring ruin to
that which lay before me. "

A curious incantation whispered beyond Rorra's lips, one that even the elder
seemed lost to. The flame grew slightly smaller, yet darker in hue, as she
carefully tossed it into the pit. A few moments of silence pervaded the
area as several eyes watched from a safe distance. Then, the brief peace
was torn asunder by an eruption of black flames that lasted for several
seconds. The blast caused tiny bits of slag to scatter All across the
ground, along with a shockwave that nearly sent several cultists watching
tumbling across the land, yet what remained of the armaments within the pit
was a pool of liquid metal.

With the barest of preparations complete, Rorra cinches the robe's sash
tight around her waist before raising both hands towards the molten metal.
Then, in a swift motion, she draws a stream of the red-hot liquid out of the
crucible with one hand, the other rapidly absorbing the heat from it as she
shapes it into a functional piece of plated armor, not too dissimilar to her
own armor. Once it is complete, she draws it close to her for inspection,
at which point she carefully inscribes the rune on the inside of the armor
found within Gorlend's workshop. Once she gave it time to take hold, she
laid a hand upon the front plate, at which point it attempted to naturally
adhere and conform to her hand.

"You have my thanks, Gorlend! This will suit us VERY well. "

While the initial experiment with the inscribed rune was successful, Rorra
still had a long way to go before enough weapons and armor to suit her
needs. Moreover, even that did not account for what it would take to
properly brace larger entities. Nevertheless, she continued to rapidly
create new armaments, All of which were anointed with the glyph of the
living metal. Finally, the armor pieces were summarily discarded off to the
side for when the time would come to transport them back to the Warp. A few
of the cultists dared to touch them as if it was meant for their greedy
hides, yet each time one of them was brave enough to do so, they found their
hands scorched as though the metal still held the immense heat from the
eruption earlier.




Writer: Rorra

Date Wed Feb 8 19:15:47 2023

To All Kingdom Clan ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Chaos )

Subject Metallic Ascension Replication part 5



By the time the second pit had been excavated, she had nearly exhausted
the first pool of liquid metal. The sun, too, had almost sunk beneath the
mountain peaks in the distance, though this would not cease her work. With
the freshly hewn earthen crucible ready, she wasted no time commanding the
cultists to fill it, alongside the first pit, with the weapons and armor
still awaiting repurposing. Just as before, she uttered the lengthy
incantation and, one by one, detonated the hellish blast of fire within each
to reduce their contents to a molten state. Each successive burst of fire
brought another plume of smoke to fill the skies above, where it lingered
alongside its oily companion.

As Rorra worked through the night, shaping and forging armaments of living
metal, her pace began to quicken, driven by some unknown force of will not
her own. It barely registered to her that her stomach was devoid of
sustenance. Nevertheless, she was keenly aware that her work was far from
over. At least one singular task remained at hand before the night was
through. With both hands, she reached down low, one hand towards each pit
still holding a significant mass of molten metal, drawing the remaining
substance out into the air above while lifting her hands toward the sky.
Her movements were carefully guided by a mental image of what she had laid
eyes upon previously. Even if it was declined in the end, she could always
repurpose it for another.

With one hand, she carefully shaped the blazing metal orb into a thrice
oversized armor bearing a heavy-scaled pattern. The pauldrons were designed
with overlapping plates to allow for greater freedom of movement. A solid
plate over the chest bears the mark of Chaos.

The second red-hot orb of metal is rapidly shaped into a large flat form
that is then slowly reduced to a simple razor-sharp edge. Finally, the
blade itself is cut off where the point would be, leaving it in the shape of
an enormous meat cleaver far too large for anything short of a giant ogre to
properly wield. Emblazed along the side is a series of irregularly shaped
marks of Chaos.

As both are fully formed, Rorra draws in a sharp breath and pulls her hands
back, closing into a tight fist to remove the heat from both massive works.
With so much done at once, the absorption process caused the fur on her
hands and forearms to be slightly singed. Finally, with All the work she
can stand for one day done and many more arduous days to come, she settles
down on the scorched ground, admiring her work. Their work would come to
fruition soon enough, but for now, rest.




Writer: Z'szytheis

Date Wed Feb 8 20:44:30 2023

To All Marauders Skoden ( RP IMM RELIGION RAIJE )

Subject A New Path (III)



"Recruit! " can be heard echoing within the Fort. Z'szytheis knew it
was him that the voice called for. The voice boomed with authority.
Z'szytheis slowly rose to his feet and swiftly ran towards the Temple Altar
of the Fort. Looming before him, a tall figure of human and ogre features.
"I've a task for you, Recruit. " as the Highlord looks down into the eyes
of Z'szytheis. "Go beyond these walls, far from the Light as possible and
dig ten holes. We will bury the nine hung soldiers and the Eagle Commander.
" Without hesitation, Z'szytheis nods his head in acknowledgement. "Very
well, Highlord.
"

He walked around the Fort towards the nine hung marauders soldiers then to
the Eagle Commander in Hammurabi Square. Back and forth he went
contemplating as to where he might dig the holes. He walks towards the west
gate and pauses. He leans his head back measuring the distance from the
light. "Hmm, this.. Seems far enough. " says Z'szytheis as he removes his
heavy studded leather armor and lays it on the ground. He looks at the
guards standing at their post. "I've a task from the Highlord. I'm to dig
ten holes for the hung marauders soldiers and the Eagle Commander.
" The
soldiers walked towards Z'szytheis ready to assist however he waves them
off, "No worries, this is my task alone. Remain at your post. "

He lifts his huge polearm and slams it into the ground, lifts up the dirt
and gravel then lays it to the side. Hours go by with the sun beating on
his scales. He begins to feel his muscles fatigue but his work pace
remained the same. With a loud sigh of relief, Z'szytheis falls to the
ground staring at the sky. "Done. " Ten graves dug and ready to be
occupied.




Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 8 21:13:52 2023

To All Knighthood Imm Nadrik ( Religion Imm Rp Xenophon )

Subject Down into the depths



Yawning before her, the sinkhole stretched out like a small sea, only
measurable to the eye by the torn edges crumbling under the lack of support,
and even those faded beyond human sight before one could glimpse the other
side. It was as if All that was and had been of the valley and fields here
before was succumbing to the very real pull down towards the center. The
feeling was not lost on the Priestess or her horse as he snorted and tossed
his head.

The evil in this place was palpable even from the outside.

Already, the seemingly living shadows had cast his pale golden fur into
shades of brown from the knees down and they threatened to color the whole
of him in minutes if they did not devour him completely. Dismounting, she
set the beast free and sent him back on his way, with a mental note to thank
Giles for the care she was certain he would receive upon crossing the
drawbridge without her. Turning back to the task and direction at hand, she
glanced over the edge and down.

Down into the infinitesimal darkness that threatened to swallow one whole in
a vice of shadows and living nightmares torn from the mind. Already she
could not trust her eyes on what she saw to be a creation of fear or in fact
one of the multitudes of evils in this place already. The fact that she was
still near the top of this chasm not lending the least bit of comfort. Yet
here she was, every bit of light she carried with her seeming to be absorbed
by the damned walls, secreted into pockmarks and honeycomb labyrinths that
Aliera was sure housed more than she wanted to be acquainted with. Pale and
mocking imitations of the lucent glow were spat back to dance across her
armor, turning the steel, silvers, and royal blues to the grays and midnight
hues in warning of the eternal night. Even the twin ouroboros on her shield
writhed, threatening to leap from the metal and consume a great deal more
than their own tails.





Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 8 21:16:42 2023

To All Knighthood Imm Nadrik ( Religion Imm Rp Xenophon )

Subject Down into the depths (part 2)



The gnashing of teeth was audible, echoing in the cavernous funnel of the
place far before it was visible, though again the sight gave no comfort, the
very presence of the demons making the characters across her skin ache as if
they wished to join something more akin to them than this Priestess of Honor
they had been placed upon. The descent continued, the path hatching back
upon itself and going deeper and deeper into the earth until All of the
light disappeared. Even the torch in her hand, lit though it was, seemed to
give forth no illumination into the dark, sputtering only to turn to
darkness a mere inch away and then she was at the bottom. A living, nearly
breathing thing, the darkness threatened to seal off the escape above her as
she was drawn towards something near the center of the space.

It was him, she could feel it in her very skin as the treasonous brands on
her palms throbbed in recognition, Devion. Not the god himself of course,
though that was something she did fear was coming one of these days. He had
been here though or blessed it, his power saturated this place, calling
forth lies to be seen in the reflective surface of the monolith only to be
further enhanced by the powers of the others of the Dark Pantheon. Made by
those of Darkness together... No matter the conflicting stories she had
heard of how this thing had come to be, that particular point was clearly
truth and one that stung knowing how hard it was proving to be to get All of
Light on the same page. It whispered in the dark, inky black promises
coming forth from the stone. It made Aliera's skin crawl, the disgust of
even being in the presence of it and yet the duplicitous betrayal of her own
body was made known as the marks evil had made upon it seemed to come alive
and she could not tear her eyes away. A half step back at the venturing of
a clawed hand that seemed to reach out from the depths of the monolith and
in losing her footing, she found her feet. A prayer of defiance left her
lips, echoing off of the nearby stone and for a moment lighting both
priestess and her reflection in holy light, as she returned home, leaving
the image of her burning form reflected in the monolith seared in her mind
with a finality that made her shudder.




Writer: Wyltte

Date Thu Feb 9 12:34:38 2023




Writer: Geirhart

Date Thu Feb 9 12:49:31 2023

To Althainia Arkane Knighthood Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Justice Rahma Timmel Xenophon ( All )

Subject Raise the Stone ( The Coalition )



TWO MONTHS PRIOR

The war cries and the squawks of the grells had subsided. Lieutenant
Commander Baruk, Captain Bjorn, and Captain Gaemra began the slow process of
cleaning the muck off themselves and taking stock of the losses. Althainian
scouts with the new brigade had found a tunnel under the south tower that
lead into an under ground cave system. Other tunnel entrances were found in
some of the abandoned homes. Baruk ordered those able to move to block
those entrances and seal them, taking down the houses if necessary. At the
moment, imperial Althainian blue and gold flags mixed in with the dark blue
and white banners of Justice.

'We gotcha lad, the Empire brought healers with us too. Not just weapons.
' offered Captain Bjorn as he also regarded his own losses.

'Tell me, Captain, just how does a force of Imperial soldiers find
themselves in a deserted city?
' asked Baruk.

Captain Bjorn smiled a toothy grin and replied, 'Emperor Mamoratai gave me
the orders to come here. Said it was one of his final acts for our armed
forces. The Emperor wanted to help the Steward, ah mean.. The Executor
with the project over here. The Executor's work seems important to the
Light so we're here to see it through.
. '

'You've got more faith than I, Captain. We've been here for days and All we
have seen are tumble weeds and grell. I've lost good soldiers in the
process. I think we're on a fools errand. I'm sorry it's brought you all
into it.
' sighed the Commander as he looked up and watched the sun rise
further into the sky.

'Faith, maybe.. But the man you call Executor used to be our Steward and
I've seen him in action, sir. He saved lives during the War of the Horn. I
have to believe a man who protected the citizens of the Empire does not shed
blood without purpose. A purpose I'm willing to help in. I chose to be
here as did some of the others. Whatever comes, we're with ya. '
and with
that, the Captain patted Baruk on the shoulder and turned to tend to his
soldiers.

'I would love to stay and watch you brood, Baruk, but I have a ship and my
own folks to see to. Though it was good to get in a bit of fighting and
loosen up the old muscles. The Executor sent word yesterday that I was to
do a supply run and so I'm off. Don't miss me too much.
' grinned Gaemra
as she sheathed her blades and saluted before fading into the crowd.

The assassin chewed for a moment on his own thoughts before banishing them
away. He had failed to recognize potential threats in not scouting more.
He had been deceived by the area and not done what his training had told him
to do, learn about his target. If this is what the Executor wanted then it
was time to scour Areth-va for information as well as the surrounding areas.
He would learn about this place, figure out it's ways, and master it by
force or diplomacy. He had not taken this task seriously and it had gotten
people hurt. That changed today.





Writer: Euterah

Date Thu Feb 9 17:43:31 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Fri Feb 10 20:53:22 2023




Writer: Kaerick

Date Sat Feb 11 09:38:47 2023

To All Piknim Shadow Verminasia Drakkara Imm RP Religion Cayenna Tritoch Crelius

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Inquisition ( Part Three )



The horses' hooves announced the arrival of the Inquisitor's troupe into
the Hamlet. Gorren and a few of his militia commanders were at the head of
the formation. Kaerick stayed towards the middle, his black stallion
trotting a slight distance from the rest. The Inquisitor's cowled face
remained in shadow but his emerald eyes roved the town's folk.

A small pavilion was setup in the middle of town and that was where the
mayor awaited them. Gorren greeted the Mayor as he had countless times
before. Pleasantries were exchanged. The Mayor presented the rolls and
discussed how they fully supported the Advisor.

EARLIER THAT MORNING

'Captain, when we ride in tomorrow, you shall hold your court and inspect
the rolls. I will be a quiet observer. The men and women we hunt will not
seek positions of power. They will be in places that allow them visibility
as well as some form of shielding from prying eyes. They will blend in with
the populous. While do your normal presentation, I will see who looks like
they are paying more attention than they should.
'

PRESENT

The citizens of the town came forward, it was not often a delegation from
the capital intruded upon their lives. Many were watching Gorren and the
Mayor. Few met his gaze nor wanted to. The throng was not what was
important. His eyes travelled over the buildings in the common. An inn, as
passable as one could be, a few locals hanging on the stoop under a
weather-beaten sign. Their posture was too relaxed and their conversation
too jovial. He moved on to a grocer tending his wares, a thin man with
gnarled hands. He fussed too much over the price of a vegetable. Still, he
searched, a blacksmith working at his forge. The front of the forge was
open wide to let the heat escape. Looking in, the man was hammering a
horseshoe but his eyes would periodically look up to take in the
conversation. The man was muscled but lean, arms thick but Kaerick noted
scars by the forearms.

Kaerick moved Aikia closer to the forge, drawn in by the subtle clues. The
smith noticed the movement of the stallion and put his head down, feigning
concentration on his work. Yet the twinge was there, the tingle in his mind
that noted the presence of another kindred. The blacksmith's head shot up,
he gripped his hammer tightly and the face that met him was not one of a
simple peasant. This man knew battle and stared the Templar down, each man
appraising as a measurement of each warrior's mettle.

Kaerick dismounted but drew no weapon, walking slowly towards the forge.
The smith reached between some sacks of coal and brought forth a long blade.
The militia, seeing the confrontation began to move towards the two men but
Kaerick held them at bay with a mailed gauntlet. He wanted to test this
man, to know his training, and to see taste what it was he would be hunting.


Drawing his longsword from it's sheath, Kaerick spoke but a single word,
'Come. '





Writer: Wyltte

Date Sat Feb 11 12:51:58 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Sun Feb 12 12:47:39 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Sun Feb 12 13:58:38 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Sun Feb 12 15:54:50 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Sun Feb 12 22:18:48 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Sun Feb 12 22:23:32 2023




Writer: Kaerick

Date Mon Feb 13 09:00:31 2023

To All Piknim Shadow Verminasia Drakkara Imm RP Religion Tritoch Crelius

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Inquisition ( Part Four )



The blacksmith came at Kaerick with a quick slice of the long blade to
the head. He parried with his own blade and dodged a second attack from the
hammer being wielded in the smith's other hand. Their feet moved in time
with each swing and block. Kaerick's cloak floated on the breeze as he
moved in a circle trying to catch his opponent off guard. While not a true
fencer, the templar knew enough of combat to hold his own for awhile. That
time lasted right until a swipe from the hammer landed a blow to his side.
Chainmail buckled slightly from the impact. The smith's face, a mask of
focus until now, broke into a slight grin as Kaerick grimaced from the pain.


'I know your rank, Templar. I've studied you just as you have studied me.
I might die today but I'll take a few of you with me for the glory of House
Ate... *ugh*.
' and it was the smith's turn to grimace as black veins
snaked their way from the center of his chest outwards. Blood welled from
his eyes and he dropped his weapons gasping for breath.

Kaerick stood there, black energy swirling around his left hand as though it
was gripping something ethereal.

'You did not study enough, I think Betrayer. I am Shukenja, gifted with
powers that strike at my enemies very heart. The heart I now grasp in my
hand. But you will not die today. Oh no my new friend.
' spoke the
Inquisitor as he lowered himself down over the now prone warrior.

'We are going to have a long chat and get to know one another. ' whispered
Kaerick.

'You'll.... *cough*.. Get... Nothing.. ' spat the smith, the blood from
his lips dribbling down onto his chin.

'I do enjoy a challenge. Guards, bind him! Take him back to the camp. '
barked the Templar.

Gorren came over to the prisoner and looked over at Kaerick.

'Watcha want us to do now, Inquisitor? ' asked the Captain

'Speak to the Mayor, find out everything about this man. Have the guards
search his smithy and his home. Leave nothing untouched. Then report back
to him.
' replied Kaerick as he mounted his stallion to follow the prisoner
and the guards back to camp.

Gorren saluted and turned to begin his duties.

Kaerick looked at the prisoner, defiant eyes met his but those eyes would
not look so bold when the Inquisitor was finished.





Writer: Kaerick

Date Mon Feb 13 11:49:43 2023

To All Piknim Shadow Verminasia Drakkara Imm RP Religion Tritoch Crelius

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Inquisition ( Part Five)



The tent was dimly lit by only a single lantern. Inside, the prisoner
was bound in iron manacles around a single wooden pole that kept the tent
up. His face had been beaten but otherwise he looked exactly as he had when
Kaerick brought him to the encampment.

'He calls himself Alarak. The Mayor said he just showed up one day as a
travelling blacksmith looking for work. Their old one, a man named Garek,
had been found out in the woods dead. He had smelled of bad whiskey and
folks thought he wandered out into the woods and tripped over a rock,
knocked his head in. The Mayor felt himself fortunate that a new smith had
popped up just a few days later. Think'n on it, probably killed the smith
to take over here.
' thought Gorren.

'Probably, Captain. What of his affects? Anything pointing to who he
really is and what he's doing here?
' asked Kaerick.

'Guards found a good amount of coin in the back of the forge where he lived.
Different types too, Arkanian and Thalosian. Couple of decent weapons:
dagger and another sword. Found some armor with the insignia of House
Atennim. One of the lads was looking through the armor, found a letter
tucked inside. It was addressed to Varek from Captain S. Didn't say much
other than he was to find himself a place to hide, stay low, try and make a
new life outside of the Ebon Hand. That might explain the tattoo we found
on his back.
' as he spoke, Gorren pointed to Varek's back where a Black
Gauntlet tattoo could be seen in the middle.

Kaerick knelt before the prisoner and asked, 'So Varek of the Ebon Hand, it
seems we have some of the picture but not all. What is the Ebon Hand? What
are your orders? And who are you working with?
'

Varek remained silent.

'Commander Kayen didn't want us torturing folks, sir. But this one is
pretty silent. Not sure how we can the information we need without breaking
our orders.
'

'Oh, there are ways my dear Captain. ' responded Kaerick as his right hand
began glowing a sickly green color. He pressed it against Varek's forehead
and almost immediately All sorts of pox riddled the man's body. His face
became flushed and then pale. The skin on his legs began to pucker. Varek
screamed then shivered, his eyes wild and feverish.

'I am sure he is trained against torture, so we need not demean ourselves.
I want to break his mind, not his body. My Lord's plagues will see to that.
When his words are incoherent, summon me. That's when he will be the most
pliable. Keep your guards outside of the tent in the meantime. I will be
in my personal tent writing my report to the Advisor.
' and with that the
Inquisitor left the Captain and the prisoner.





Writer: Wyltte

Date Mon Feb 13 12:16:21 2023




Writer: Erebaal

Date Mon Feb 13 12:20:49 2023

To All Kingdom Clan Chaos ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Arkane )

Subject The Snatchers: Part One I


Artimus woke to the news of the disappearances with dismay in his heart.

The pain had started days before, a pain in his shoulder that he had hidden
with immense effort. The brand that laid there, he showed to nobody, spoke
to no one of. It was an old shame, a hidden shame born of a fit of weakness
with the passing of his wife and family. The fire had been intense,
sweeping through the Arkanian village and laying waste to entire homes and
families. He had been abroad at the time, aboard a fishing boat to earn his
meager share to bring home to his kin, and the sorrow of returning to a
field of ashes where once his home stood had broken more than merely his
heart. It had devastated his spirit.

Seeming to have nothing to lose, he had accepted the brand. He had felt it
sear his flesh and scar his spirit, but in the intervening years, the
fervor, sorrow, and hatred against an uncaring world that had stolen his
family had dulled to an ache in his spirit, a muffled sound of agony that
had lain inert within him. The flames had died, burned to embers, and then
to ash. He was hollow, empty, lost.

So he had stolen out in the night, leaving behind the life he had fled to
when the first life had failed him. Escaped to the village where once he
had called home. His return had been met with some jubilation and many
questions, which he had dully deflected with a resignation that eventually
wore down the curiosity of the people he had once considered friends. He
took up a solitary living on the edge of town, his solitude and sorrow
creating a communal air of pity for the man broken by what Algoron had
offered him. He did his business in town rarely, trading for what he needed
with what he could forage, making journeys abroad but rarely. And speaking
less and less of his travels or findings, or even the commonplace niceties
of life in the quiet village.

The dreams had begun soon after the pain. The burning eight-pointed star
that matched the brand that afflicted him seemed to loom over him in his
sleep, casting a shadow from which none could escape. Inky black lines
dripped down from its iron formation, running like blood to pool upon the
cracked earth that his dream-self rested upon. Grasping hands emerged from
the congealed sludge of earth and ichor, and malformed faces leered,
pressing out of the mass to moan and cry before being consumed by the
amorphous slime. Mercifully, he could not recognize any of them, but the
horror of it had awoken him in a sweat every night since it had begun. Dark
circles rested beneath his eyes, and a tremor endured in his arms that no
amount of tea or ale could suppress.

The disappearances had become the talk of the town, young men and women
vanishing seemingly overnight. The idea of isolated occurrences of eloping
was nothing new to the community. Stories of villagers stealing away to
Arkane to be wed and start anew in the debauched city were nearly
commonplace, given the environment engendered by the people of the capital.
The scale of it, however, nearly a score of people gone in a night, put the
lie to any such romantic notions. The faint evidence of struggle in a few
of the homes had begun rumors that the Marauders to the south had begun
forcible recruitment, seeking to rebuild their forces after the decimation
of their ranks. Others had claimed it to be a new scourge borne of the
forces of Evil, for in the wake of the erecting of the Dragothian Monolith
to the north, routine plagues of locusts had picked entire fields clean of
anything edible. Whatever the truth of it, the first signs of panic had
taken root.





Writer: Erebaal

Date Mon Feb 13 12:21:15 2023

To All Kingdom Clan Chaos ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Arkane )

Subject The Snatchers: Part One II


Artimus did not partake of these discussions, keeping to himself and
avoiding contact with the people. He did not need to look closer to
understand what was happening. For whatever reason, the Cult had begun to
move, their summons bringing out the very worst in some of those who bore
its mark. He did not know how many of those who had left in the night had
gone willingly, heeding their summons as he had ignored his, or if some new
horror had been sent to pluck from their number fresh sacrifices, the likes
of which he had known to take place in the hidden places whereupon lives
were offered up to sate the hunger of the Devourer God.

Whatever the reason, he knew only terror.




Writer: Deteryd

Date Mon Feb 13 12:29:21 2023

To All Chaos Malachive Erebaal ( Rp Imm Admin Scorn Malachive )

Subject The Freljier Crusade: Early Audience (1)


The pit beneath the Warp was not nearly as cold as her home, but it carried a
foreign tinge of hopelessness to it that made it unfamiliar to her. It was not
the welcoming cold of bright white snows, jagged peaks, and blue skies. Henna
felt no hope for her current situation. Her brilliant copper hair was grimey
and tussled and her spirits were in worse off condition.

After suffering the violent attack by the Chaos cultists trying to detain her,
she lost the use of her legs. She felt sorry for herself only for as long as
it took for a whimper to cut the silence to jar her from self-pity and into
pity for her people. She did not eat because she could not eat and, in that,
she justified this feeble act of defiance against her captors. She stole a
glance across the room to make out the crumpled form of Kersen and wondered
if her friend was dead or sleeping until his time of death. The pit entombed
the fighting spirits of the captors, but the orc guards made sure to break
openly defiant bodies.

"Play with the frisky ones, but don't kill them," scolded one orc to another.
Orcs were intelligent creatures, but they had a habit of "playing" with people
in a way that is appropriate with their own kind that ends up killing others.
Not unlike a child that is too rough with a small pet, but doesn't understand
the harm that's done. Henna despised these creatures, the Warp, and above all
else, she despised herself for playing a part in the death of her people's way
of life.

Some footsteps pulled Henna from her thoughts. She pulled her legs close and
squinted against the dark to make out a slender form speaking to a guard. It
was the voice of Deteryd, and her blood began to boil. She could not fight,
but she decided she would still attempt to inflict harm any way she could.




Writer: Wyltte

Date Mon Feb 13 13:02:45 2023




Writer: Deteryd

Date Mon Feb 13 13:15:43 2023

To All Chaos Malachive Erebaal ( Rp Imm Admin Scorn Malachive )

Subject The Freljier Crusade: Early Audience (2)


Henna was so intent on engaging with Deteryd that she didn't notice a third
figure behind him. A willowy woman veiled in chain steel. The orc grunted and
let the two through to the open chamber of the pit where the captors awaited
their purpose. The veiled woman lifted a hand and effortlessly conjured a ball
of light that washed the room in a soft glow of pale moonlight. A few voices
moaned in discomfort and a few begged their freedom.

Henna glared against the light and stared into the veil of the wizard. The sound
of petite metal chains flushed the room as she glanced from broken body to heap.
Her blood boiled as the woman made slight grunts of disgust as they stepped over
and around her people. As though they were puddles of filth. It was then that the
veiled woman's movements stopped and peered in Henna's direction.

"This one is her," the veiled woman whispered in her silky voice to Deteryd.
"And she has fight in her still." Henna steeled herself in defiance against
words. Deteryd stepped forward and away from the orc guard and walked to stand
in front of Henna. He peered down at her from over his nose like an inconvenient
stain on an expensive rug, but his imperiousness also betrayed a measure of pity.
She glared up at him in defiance and let the silence build until she spoke.

"Are you here to gloat? To watch?" Henna gritted her teeth and emitted a choked
cry from her cracked lips, "You are a cult of suffering, so does our pain please
you and your god? You were supposed to save us and give us back our lives and
freedom, but All you did was doom us all. And for what?"




Writer: Penelopina

Date Mon Feb 13 13:22:41 2023

To All Taleena Sebastian N.D. Rick Zandelina Ankabasanu Euterah Aelyssende Balur Feldritch Justice Immortals Taliena

Subject The Morning After!



{pMorning did not greet her kindly, as it usually did. Instead, feeling an
uncomfortable sensation, Penny flew out of bed and to the nearest
{pwindow,
opening it in great haste, and proceed to vomit forth a r{oainbows{p worth of
her stomachs contents. Her belly thus
{ppurged, she clutched at her head,
feeling an awful headache. Like Crotanos and Tobryck were each shouting in
one ear a challenge for a fight,
{ptheir loud, angry words meeting in the
middle of her head.

{p'I didn't even touch a drop of alcohol last night... {p' she muttered,
finding some fresh water to drink, wetting her lips and slashing some
{pcool
liquid on her face to help her wake up. 'How did...? {p' Oh, right. The
peace pipe.

{pShe should have refused. She TRIED to refuse! But it would have been rude
to say no again, so Penny had tried the peace pipe that... What was her
{pname? It wasn't Zandreya, like the goddess, she knew that, but it was
close. Zanda? Zandelina? Zanny? Something like that. She'd been so
{pinsistent. What harm would there be in just a little puff?

{pA lot, apparently.

{pThe rest of the evening had been... Strange. Penny wasn't even positive
which parts had been real or not. Colors and sounds had started to
{pblend
together after a bit, leaving everything in a haze. She was almost 99%
positive that she
{phad been able to commune with the marigolds towards the
end of the evening however, and could hear their sweet melody of
flowerfulness.

{pThe blue man with faerie wings must have been imagined though. I mean, he
had even shimmered and vanished like a mirage.

{pSighing, her head still in great pain, Penny went in search of some herbs
and breakfast (no, scratch that, based on the sun's position, it was
{plunchtime) to soothe her head and stomach, respectively. Still, despite
those pains, she was smiling, for her heart felt great. She'd made many
{pnew
friends, even with a dwarf of All people whom she'd managed to find a bond
through their mutual clanned life. Who would have guessed?

{p'Thank you, Taliena... For a beautiful evening of fun and friendship, {p' she
prayed.




Writer: Deteryd

Date Mon Feb 13 13:51:04 2023

To All Chaos Malachive Erebaal ( Rp Imm Admin Scorn Malachive )

Subject The Freljier Crusade: Early Audience (3)


Henna's words echoed in the chamber and challenged the following quiet. The
veiled woman tilted her head and stared intensely at Henna. Deteryd swallowed.
He pursed his lips, and then he spoke.

"Had a god died somewhere else, you would have been saved. None of this would
have had to happen." Deteryd voice softened still. "I will regret what I've
done to your way of life and your tribe for the rest of my days, but nothing
can stand in the way of our goals and designs. Not even the purity of your
godless way of life, but your sacrifice will be leveraged in the pursuit of
something greater." Henna did not understand and she curled her upper lip.

Deteryd continued. "Years ago, a god died near your village. The weather
goddess Turpa was dealt a fatal blow in the skies above. Not terribly close,
but close enough for reports to be heard that the stars of her blood rained
down and touched the land. It is believed that your people made contact with
this essence, which makes you extremely valuable to us. Rumors circulated
about the creation of giants, or godchildren, without being born. Contact
with godblood could bring about a mortalborn godchild. Then generationally,
this trait could continue to propagate and be carried on without the carrier
even knowing."

Henna parted her lips in horror. "Then that is what we are to you? No better
than livestock?"

"You are. Mortalblood and sacrifice has not satisfied Malachive, so we will
see how his remains take to your people. That is, if Turpa's blood dwells
within any of you." Deteryd continued gravely, "All who live know they must
one day die, and Algoron is a world built on sacrifice of life and purpose.
And your purpose, Henna, your people's purpose, is very important to us."

"I have hope. I am very hopeful we can expect great things from you."




Writer: Wyltte

Date Mon Feb 13 13:53:44 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Mon Feb 13 15:03:22 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Mon Feb 13 16:29:01 2023




Writer: Erebaal

Date Mon Feb 13 16:46:27 2023

To All Kingdom Clan Chaos ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Arkane )

Subject The Snatchers: Part Two I


Zost gave a grim smile as he beheld the fear that gripped the Abaddonian
hamlet.

Things in the night and disappearances were not any great mystery in the
villages that clung barely to life on the edges of the swamp from which the
forsaken city of Abaddon emerged. Fatale's Chosen had rapacious appetites,
preying on anything with a pulse if they had a mind for it. They oft
visited the outlying villages in search of prey, when the slave-cattle of
the main city could not slake their thirsts. In this sense, it was no great
feat for the Everchosen's command to be carried out here.

The rail-thin man adjusted his cap and looked over the upturned faces of the
villagers that looked to him for guidance. As the headman of this hamlet,
they turned to him to be the voice of reason, of salvation. He gave another
razor-thin smile, one that offered little in the way of comfort, but such
was his manner anyway. Their lives, All of their lives, were doomed to be
spent, be it in the name of the hungering demons that paraded in mortal
flesh or in the name of the God of Chaos' unending yearning for sacrifices.
The brand upon his shoulder ached beneath his dusty headman uniform, the
seal of the high house of Abaddon glinting in the dawnlit gloom.

'We... Don't know yet what could have caused such a thing. ' His words
were carefully paced, carefully modulated. The uncertainty, the anxiety he
projected would spread like a disease amongst his charges, driving wedges
between kinsmen as news of what had transpired became common knowledge in
the hamlet, for it was no mere vanishings in the night that had raised their
communal hackles.

At Zost's feet lay a desiccated body, fanged mouth opened wide in a silent
scream. Scorch marks framed its empty eye sockets, and its clawed fingers
were balled into fists by the rapid mummification that had overtaken the
creature when its demon parasite had been destroyed. Zost had to
consciously suppress a grin at the memory, the shocked surprise as the
hunter had become the prey. Zost himself had wielded the magicks bound to a
scroll entrusted to him by the Cult, an unraveling hex said to have once
been utilized by clergymen of another era. To think that the weapons of the
Gods could still be brought to bear upon their own...

Zost shook his head and raised his arms, a faint tic below his eye betraying
the flare of pain from his shoulder, 'Return to your homes, friends. I've
already sent a messenger to the Count for assistance, for the death of a
Blessed One must be of highest concern to him and to the Queens. They shall
look after us, I promise you.
' Another lie. Zost had done no such thing,
and even if the villagers gossiped amongst themselves about what had
happened here, it would be far too late by the time the authorities in
Abaddon could investigate properly.




Writer: Erebaal

Date Mon Feb 13 16:47:41 2023

To All Kingdom Clan Chaos ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Arkane )

Subject The Snatchers: Part Two II


The first night had stolen away a third of the villagers, the second
night promised more. The long-limbed, gangly abominations raised by the
sorcerers of Chaos whom had welcomed him to service in the name of the
Everchosen years past would return in greater numbers this night. In spite
of those who preyed upon the living, in spite of the defenses erected by the
Chosen of Fatale, those who dabbled in such blasphemies always found a way,
always found a man to leave the door cracked for them to worm their way into
the societies of their enemies. Zost had been brought into the fold after
nearly losing his hands and head in the course of self-defense. As a
younger man, a Chosen had taken a shine to him, promising him the immortal
life of the Vampire in exchange for his services, bringing chattel to him
with his charm and guile for the parasite to feed off of. He had paid well,
and the ever-tempting promise of life eternal was always dangled before him.
Just another life, a little more prey.

It was not until the vampire had drained his fiance dry that his dreams
crumbled to ashes. Witnessing the bestial face of the vampire as the light
of life left his beloved fiance's eyes, his final gasp a mewling whimper of
Zost's name, that he had realized how terribly he had been manipulated. The
vampire had tried to take him then, draining him in his blood-hunger and a
need to be kept undiscovered. Though feeding in such a way was hardly
forbidden, it still reeked of a certain impoliteness to have the food
brought to them without the high standing in undead society to warrant such
niceties. It was "putting on airs", so to speak, and such a slight was, it
seemed, ground enough to kill for it.

Zost had escaped that night, though he could scarcely remember how, and he
had collapsed, bleeding, in the swamp before he had been found by the
rag-wearing men who had tended to him. They told him of what the true
nature of the Vampire was, what a deception had been played upon All living
things within the Darklands. They told him of their vision, of the broad
desires of their own master, who never played with such delusions as life
unending or even a legacy to leave behind. It was a brutal, cruel honesty
that the Everchosen preached, and already broken by the loss of love and
status, Zost had accepted their bargain. He had returned to his home
village and plied his charms to become headman, the go-between betwixt the
great city in the swamp and the spit of nothing that struggled to live in
its lantern-lit orbit.

He had returned to lead them, yes, but not to the ruin they imagined was
waiting for them. Instead, it was ruin of a far grander sort. As the first
few unconscious bodies were dragged from their homes, as the vampire burned
with its inner self destroyed, as the sleeping town saw the first night of
its swift demise, Zost could not help but laugh. He felt the pull of the
Warp and could sense the enormity of what was to come, weighing upon his
despoiled soul like a tonne of lead. Whatever great designs the Everchosen
dreamed, it would take the lives of every soul within the village, his own
included, and so many, many more besides.




Writer: Erebaal

Date Mon Feb 13 16:48:37 2023

To All Kingdom Clan Chaos ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Abaddon )

Subject The Snatchers: Part Two III


Zost returned to his home, feeling the laughter from the night before
returning, shaking his shoulders and turning his vision red with maddened
pain. He could no longer contain it, a maddened giggle turning into a belly
laugh that held no mirth nor love within it. They were fodder to be
devoured, one way or the other, and this very day could be the last of their
lives. He did not know how he would spend it. He did not even think he
cared.

Whatever awaited upon Tropica, it mattered not. His was not to question.

His was only to be consumed.




Writer: Erebaal

Date Wed Feb 15 17:08:01 2023

To All Kingdom Clan Chaos ( Malachive Scorn Xenophon Nordmaar Darkonin Ganth )

Subject The Snatchers: Part Three


Krorr stamped his hooves and shook the snow from his fur, heaving a
bloodied sack from over his shoulder onto the deck of the ramshackle vessel
that had docked in the abandoned fishing village. The brand upon his
breast, over his heart, ached like an old wound, and he gave a feral grin at
the sensation. The pain that had been visited upon him was a minute thing
compared to what agonies awaited his battered cargo.

Not All of them had survived the kidnapping, but that was to be expected.
Living or dead, the Everchosen's demand was absolute. Lives, spent or yet
to be exchanged to satisfy his infernal wishes. These were what had been
called for, and when the pain had begun in earnest, Krorr had left from his
long exile in the wastes of Icewall to rendezvous with the cabal that had
lurked on the fringes of frozen society. Disgraced vikings, runty goblins,
bugbears who had been cast aside by the King of the Undermountain. These
and more had formed their own societies of exiles, brought to heel beneath
the eight-pointed banner.

The Everchosen himself had burned the brand into Krorr's chest years ago,
another era, it seemed. He had styled himself merely as the Word Bearer in
those days, a berserker in the throes of madness that had carved a bloody
swathe across the forsaken lands that he had once called his home. The
Everchosen had borne a name once, it was said. A viking name,
nordmaarian-born. That name had been discarded, left behind with the life
abandoned to madness, which itself had been shed like a serpent emerging
from its old skin into a greater existence. In a perverse way Krorr had
clashed with the incompleteness of the Everchosen's might and ambition, and
had been utterly devastated by it. His bloodied, broken body had failed
him, and he had looked up into the black eyes of a destroyer and seen then
what horrors awaited those who named him friend, let alone what became of
his foe. Desperate for another day of living, another moment of life, he
had offered his service and accepted the brand of Chaos. For whatever
purpose the Everchosen had accepted his plea, he did not know, only that the
time had come for him to enact his service.

This village was but one of many to be pillaged, its inhabitants bludgeoned
and stuffed into the holds of the vessels that had come to collect the blood
tithes. Whatever poor fate awaited them, Krorr did not know. They were to
prey on as many homesteads along the Icewallian coast until they had
exhausted the kingdoms of Icewall or they were overrun. Resistance had
become stiffer in the lowlands, more sentries upon the roads, watchmen
patrolling and armed figures walking the streets. Though the cabal of Chaos
was individually mighty, an organized force would inevitably overrun them.
Whenever that day came, Krorr would die fighting, his shattered pride
redeemed in service to the cause that had pressed him to act in its stead.
For the Everchosen, his conqueror, he would give his life and take many
more. In a world ruled by might, he had found his better. For whatever
strength that the Warp needed to borrow, Krorr could only wonder what sort
of foe they had laid eyes upon.

To demand so high a blood price to oppose them, none but the mightiest would
serve.

The Snatchers: End




Writer: Wyltte

Date Wed Feb 15 17:31:56 2023




Writer: Wyltte
Date Wed Feb 15 18:05:02 2023




Writer: Euterah
Date Wed Feb 15 18:07:39 2023




Writer: Aeshtyn
Date Wed Feb 15 18:58:05 2023




Writer: Wyltte
Date Wed Feb 15 18:58:16 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Thu Feb 16 19:58:01 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Thu Feb 16 20:06:52 2023




Writer: Deteryd
Date Thu Feb 16 22:23:13 2023

To All Chaos Malachive Erebaal ( Rp Imm Admin Scorn Malachive )

Subject The Freljier Crusade: Heretic's Heresy (1)


Deteryd and Agh-Ashi left behind Henna in a heap of dread in the dark. Though
she was surrounded by her kin, Deteryd suspected that she had never felt so
alone. He could not fault her for this for they were waiting to die. They did
not volunteer their family and friends for this sacrifice, but by committing
to Chaos and their needs, they unwittingly signed themselves up to the Warp's
devices and ends. When it is a cultist's time to due to further their vision,
it was decided. Every heretic's corpse, every bone built a bridge leading the
realm of Algoron across the chasm of endless divine servitude and into their
utopic vision. Or to some: a fitting end washed in cataclysm and extinction.

The Chaos Lord walked ahead of Agh-Ashi, who delighted in coming along to
savor the terror of their captors. Twisting weaker minds and rending the flesh
of their psyches exposed to probe deep fears and ideas, Agh-Ashi was joyous in
her desires and delighted in the suffering of others. She left no scars on the
body, only the mind. Where Deteryd found suffering necessary towards progress,
Agh-Ashi sipped on it like a hummingbird sips nectar. She thought herself a
liberated artist, free to explore as she gorged herself on the experiences
of others.

The Thane of Sorrow loved knowing that no one could escape her talents, which
is why she clung closely to her Lord. Try as she might, she could not read him.
She suspected it was Deteryd's affiliation to the Unseen or the Formless One,
the covenant of the realm's cabal of manatonic aberrations. She could not peer
into him, but she settled for reading his body language and his face. From that
she could glean savory entrees to chew on.

Agh-Ashi trailed behind him now, walking the stairs up from the holding cells
and into the gathering hall.




Writer: Deteryd

Date Thu Feb 16 22:26:45 2023

To All Chaos Malachive Erebaal ( Rp Imm Admin Scorn Malachive )

Subject The Freljier Crusade: Heretic's Heresy (2)


After a short moment in thought, Agh-Ashi spoke in her wispy voice, "If the
Tree gorges on these shattered wretches and nothing comes of it, what then, my
lord?" Deteryd was lost in his own thoughts. Shaking them away like water off
of a duck's brow, he turned and spoke with a severe tone.

"If the rumors and myths surrounding godblood proves false or the Tree does
not stir at first taste, then we'll find another dread cause to hedge our bets
behind. Unlike those of Storm who amend their causes and prophecies, we do not
wither when our god dies. Nor do we sleep when our Everchosen is away." Deteryd
pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth and flared his nostrils. "We
persevere as we always have. We recollect. Our purpose remains, but how we
arrive at our destination takes several detours."

Agh-Ashi seemed uncomfortable with the notion of accepting Malachive's death as
a finality, nor did she enjoy the unassurity of an obfuscated in dense mists.
For a time, she stared at Deteryd in silence. Absorbing the weight of his words
and weighing them with her own ideas. She spoke, "Do we go deeper?"

"We go deeper. If the plan with the barbarians bear no fruit and Ithyxa's scrib
was a wild kender's errand, then I am prepared to offer levy or bargain with
more eldritch powers. Be it Abhorrant, or something else."

The thane bristled at the thought of something more nebulous than the likes of
Deathmeer or the Abhorrants. Not an uncomfortable bristling, but that of the
spark of excitement. Her thin purple lips parted into a grin of anticipation.

A pining thought of hope and longing occured to Agh-Ashi. She was not much for
hoping. She despised the illusion of it, the false ground it gave to the meek.
But for the opportunity to savor new and thrilling ways to bring despair to
all, she made an exception.




Writer: Wyltte

Date Thu Feb 16 23:01:58 2023




Writer: Wyltte
Date Fri Feb 17 02:06:32 2023




Writer: Wyltte
Date Fri Feb 17 06:57:58 2023




Writer: Piknim
Date Fri Feb 17 11:46:12 2023

To All Verminasia Shadow Wyltte Kaerick Maccus ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Truth Hurts (III)



Oily torchlight illuminated the mill where a kender witch and her allies
battled the mysterious iron man and won. Had he stayed behind to tie up
loose ends, or been left to guard the plague-bearing body, or perhaps both?

The plague-bearer itself lay there still upon the weathered planks, a
wretched and bloated corpse wreathed in murky vapor wafting from a font of
blighted bones. She thought she heard it whisper to her on occasion, but
hoped it nothing more than bog denizens or rats skittering about abandon
grain sacks.

Together, with their immunity to Warp-sickness, camaraderie, fearlessness,
and no dearth of luck, an unlikely band of kender succeeded where the
enigmatic wanderer with bright eyes and his team of huntsmen had failed.

Piknim wound clean linen bandages around her wounded hands, first the left
palm and then the right, and secured them at each wrist.

Holy magic from a fumbled gourd had melted her skin and scoured the tender
meat beneath. It felt as though the gods of Light caught her, literally
red-handed, reaching too deeply into a divine cookie jar. Some things, some
powers, were not meant for a Darkfinder to borrow. There were more
important thoughts to occupy her mind, however.

What came next?

Set up a field lab. Conduct a preliminary study of the plague. Collect
samples. Deliver them safely and securely into the hands of Storm Keep's
magisters, Verminasia's magic academy, Dragoth's clergy, and the Ebon Spire.
Research, counter, engineer, and weaponize.

Find opportunities and seize them.

She climbed to her feet and stepped out of the mill into faint sunlight all
but smothered by the mists of Urthog Vale. Her kender-friends stood in
formation emptying their pockets, pouches, bags, and packs onto the damp
ground with alacrity, like a squad of soldiers preparing for inspection.

Piknim knelt before the piles of keepsakes, trinkets, miscellany, and junk
to sift through them for equipment with which to get the field lab up and
running quickly. Empty glass vials, half-full jars of this and that,
hip-flasks in a variety of metals, gilded spoons, bundles of dried herbs,
sparkly rocks with a stray warpstone amongst them, sea shells, half-melted
candles. The list went on, and on, and on - enough to fill a small book.

She picked out the occasional useful bit and discarded the other bobs until
a respectable separate pile formed - enough to get started.




Writer: Piknim
Date Fri Feb 17 12:10:17 2023

To All Verminasia Shadow Wyltte Kaerick Maccus ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Truth Hurts (IV)



The Darkfinder's fingernails scraped across a non-descript scroll tube
with a tin topper and she halted abruptly. Her eyes widened as she sensed
an inkling of its story - sentiments of dread, treachery, death, and a
feeling at once esoteric and familiar. The woolen handkerchief taken from
the young survivor, Darius, had invoked the very same feelings.

"Cal, where did you find this?"

"Oh, aye, that! It fell outta Flip's pocket during the fight. I grabbed it
for safe-keeping with every intention of giv-"

"Flip, where the heck did you find this?"

"It levitated out of Dash's pocket right into my pocket, honest and truly,
while we were stacked on the door. Must be magical. Reminds me of the
time-"

"Dash! Where!?"

The mute jongleur blinked innocently and pointed to a wooden cart staged
outside the mill. Piknim finally recalled him climbing onto the back,
lifting the tarp, finding the dead huntsmen, and slipping a foreign object
into his pocket. Mystery solved. Next mystery.

She popped the tin topper, pulled out a rolled parchment, and unfurled it
for All to see. Four pairs of eyes All agog fell upon a detailed and
precisely scaled plot of the region that included geographic information and
physical points of interest. In particular, charcoal marks identifed the
mill and three other cryptic locations.

A fortuitous find indeed. Her good-hearted kender allies were full of
surprises, Piknim had to admit, and their pouches even moreso.

The kender witch stood upright, rolled the map tightly, and handed it to
Calumnay before addressing the trio of kender in turn, starting with her
seafaring friend. "There's a lot more work to be done than I thought, and
less time to do it in! Cal, I need copies of the map. No embellishments.
No nonsense," she instructed.

"Aye! You got it, Pikky."

Piknim scribbled off a list of items and passed it to Ramshackle. "Dash,
search the village. Poke your nose into every corner. Find whatever we
missed. Bring back All the stuff you can."

The jongleur snapped to attention and saluted smartly, miming the part of a
loyal retainer.

"Flip, you're in the lab with me. I need an assistant. Grab the
equipment!"

"Righto," Martingale replied enthusiastically, bending to scoop an armful of
items from the ground.

"Fly then, my pretties!" The Darkfinder commanded, clapping her little
hands together sharply. "Fly!" Her kender allies split off in all
directions with alacrity. She watched them go, a thin smile of satisfaction
stealing across her lips.

"For the Infinite Night."




Writer: Skoden
Date Fri Feb 17 21:23:30 2023

To All Marauders Fredrik Z'szytheis ( Raije IMM Admin RP )

Subject A New Path (IV): Laid to Rest



The Recruit's work was done. Now, it was time for the Highlord to do his part.
He stood, the legs of his chair screeching across the War Room floor, and
nodded to the two guards standing just inside the door. He excused himself,
and the guards remained, ensuring no others would enter in the Highlord's
absence. Walking the hollowed corridors and passing familiar faces along the
way, his mind wandered to the task at hand - it was finally time to lay his
brothers-in-arms to rest. Finally, he arrived at his intended location - the
front gates of Fort Ironclad. There hung nine warped soldiers, previously
punished for their betrayal, but Skoden could not help remember the times they
all shared before - the raiding parties, the drills, the drunken nights at the
Dominion - it All flooded back. A frown swept briefly over the half-ogre's
features before he turned his icy gaze from the bodies westward, where he
saw the albino snake approaching.

Recruit Z'szytheis spoke, 'The work is done, Highlord - ten graves dug at
an appropriate distance away from the Warp Symbols and Lights alike.
'
Skoden nodded his acknowledgment and raised one hand to motion toward the
corpses, stating, 'What seemed necessary then, pains me now, hm? Let's
waste no time in removing them and seeing them laid properly to rest. We
will begin here, and once finished, remove the Commander from the Square.
'
The Recruit nodded in turn and climbed the platform to the gallows, where
he loosened the ropes of each fallen soldier and handed them down to
the Highlord. The two worked tirelessly together to undo what Chaos had
been unleashed upon the Fort. Body by body, the men were lowered, and then
the two moved southward toward Hammurabi Square, likewise removing the fallen
Warp Commander.

The Recruit inquired as they removed this corpse, 'Highlord, he was not
one of our men to begin with - will we still lay him to rest with the others?
'
The Highlord grunted, a hint of a grimace touching his features, though it was
fleeting as he offered a firm nod, 'While he was Warped upon entry, he
briefly bore the Marauder Raptor upon his uniform - he shall find rest like the
others.
' The Recruit questioned nothing else and did his part to assist
in carrying the Commander to join the others at the gates. From there, the
bodies were moved two at a time, totaling five trips from the front gates to
the western gate. With the last trip completed, each grave was respectfully
filled, and no Marauder was left in such degradation as they had been.

'Discipline. Honor. Fidelity.' The words rang through the Highlord's mind
as they placed the dirt into each hole, filling them full and packing them
down. He turned to face Z'szytheis as they filled the last hole, the two
simply staring at one another in a moment of silence. Skoden finally broke
that silence as a final phrase rolled from his lips, 'Never again shall
such travesty touch this Fort. We fight as one, we die as one. We are all
Marauders.
' Z'szytheis grunted and pounded his chest in a heavy salute,
before the pair turned and headed back into the Fort.




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Sat Feb 18 16:31:52 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Sun Feb 19 01:11:14 2023




Writer: Hege

Date Sun Feb 19 03:40:47 2023

To All Verminasia IMM RP

Subject Memories of the Past



A small girl, followed by an even younger boy, runs around the statues
trying to keep away from the other child. The boy stumbles on a stone,
falls to the ground, and begins crying. Upon hearing the boy cry, the girl
stops, turns around, and comforts the younger child.

Looking at the children running about Guillotine Square, Hege sighs, longing
for those days before her life changed. The two children have enough
similarities in appearance to know that they are siblings. Hege lets a
small wistful smile break from her lips. She whispers to herself, 'That
would have been my brother and me so long ago.
'

She was old enough to learn her letters when her kidnappers took her from
her family. The event happened so long ago that she only remembers slivers
of memory. They now seem more like dream fragments than actual
recollections.

It was a no-light moon night, and the carriage had stopped for the night in
a clearing. Her brother slipped out of the carriage for a watering of the
bushes. She knows he was trying to be quiet, but young children are painful
when putting the total weight of their hand on one's back. That was the
last time she saw her brother.

Time moves forward, and she awakes to loud, angry swearing from strangers
outside the carriage. Rough hands reach in and snatch her through the
window. A sack is pulled over her, and her arms are bound to her body. She
does not know what happened to her family from that point on, and her
captors tell her to forget her past life, for she is to be given a new one.

Time moves forward again, and she finds herself in the foyer of an old
building with other children near her age. Most of the children were
underfed and barely clothed. Her captors had her change into cheaper
clothing with patches before sending her to this place and warned her that
her family, the ones she would never see, would die if she failed the
entrance. This is where the life she had known began.




Writer: Perpugilliam
Date Sun Feb 19 09:43:10 2023

To All Kingdom (RP) IMM Zandreya

Subject The Little Chores Matter



The tall girl with straight as a pin ruby hair fingered the charms onn
her necklace. Perpugilliam's hands were sore from training, but she did not
mind the new blisters. They wwould form into calluses soon enough. It was
for a purpose and without purpose there is death. It was one of the adages
her mother had taught her and now she kept All those little sayings close to
her heart. It was how she honored their memory. How she made herself not
forget their faces and All the beautiful days they had before they were
taken from her. She shut down that line of thinking, twisting the charms.
They were little pewter baubles. She was careful not to break or bend the
shapes. Pewter was a soft metal easily shaped. She knew the shapes by
feel.

The star for her overcoming her fear of the dark. She had once been so
afraid of the dark. She had nnight terrors, always thinkinng demons were
lurking behind her curtains, under her bed, just outside the window. She
would not fall asleep unless her father or mother sat with her, which then
had them mostly falling asleep before her anyhow. The fifth night she had
slept by herself her father cast a star for her to wear. She still had the
star and she fiddled with it as she wend about memory lane.

The Hourglass had been a harder lesson to learn. She had to become patient
which for a child of five was nigh impossible. She did though conquer in
the end. She learned not to complain, to complete tasks at hand, to focus
on the outcome rather than dwell in the moment of chores. She learned to
listen to nature and others. She learned to be compassionate, not just
kind. The hourglass represented time spent wisely. Her parents had been
good counselors.

The Five petal flower was newer, still haad its shiny silvery exterior yet.
She had recieved it on her seventeenth birthday. Her father wanted her to
know that her heart was beautiful as well as looks. She sighed. She missed
her parents dearly. That was just a fact.

Perpugillliam shook her head letting her long ruby tresses spill over her
face for a moment before moving onto weeding the area around the great
Vallenwwood tree. She could not put her finger on the concern for the tree.
It looked gorgeous to her although she remembered reading somewhere that it
was always green. It seemed to be in perpetual autumn which was pretty.
She wandered around the big tree, plucking out small invasive weeds. There
were not many. She sat down for a while and just admired the tree. In all
creation, the Mother had made such heartbreaking beauty. Looking at the
tree made Peri's eyes a little misty. The haalf-elf smile brightly. She
would set her new task to be gentle with what was given to her and her
kingdom.




Writer: Wyltte
Date Sun Feb 19 19:39:58 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Sun Feb 19 20:46:55 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Sun Feb 19 20:51:52 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Sun Feb 19 20:55:56 2023




Writer: Flynoal
Date Sun Feb 19 23:12:46 2023

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Zandreya RP imm

Subject The Peace of Pruning



He would not say that blood raged through his veins and a scarlet tint
covered his vision... But it sure seemed close.

He let out a soft sigh on his walk back through the pathways from the
southern gates, following it up with a deep breath in, deep breath out.
Lanac up ahead, he was instead pulled to the south, a soft breeze passing
through smelling of willow and incense. A hard right found him passing
through the strands of fronds hanging over the archway, and immediately
feeling a sense of calm cool his emotions.

A garden he had shared many feelings (and naps) within, he did not find a
small nook to hide away in this time, instead walking straight to the altar
at its center. He knelt before it, kneading his knuckles into the soil as
he closed his eyes and further slowed his breathing. His time within the
clergy came back like a flood, murmuring his prayers as soft as the breeze.


These weeks had been worrisome. Her lands weak, needing their attention,
Her attention. As mortals, they had failed, time and time again. So many
distractions! And so many self-imposed, keeping them from being exactly who
they were, are, and could be. His personal frustration was likely at its
peak, one too many failures by them all. And here he found himself snapping
at a General of Gareth and needing.... Serenity.

No matter how justified, this was not who he was. It was time to sow the
seeds of positivity, and healing, and good old fashioned hard work. He had
not had a good, lengthy, strong prayer for the Mother in some time. So he
would bare his soul, ask for guidance, and get to work.

When his prayers were complete, he opened his eyes, peering up at the altar
before him with a much more natural smile, before standing up and brushing
himself off. His confident stride back through the boughs, a polite nod to
Lanac once more, but back into the gates of the city proper. Heading east
on Willow, he got to work quickly on a small patch of unattended shrubbery
near a building overhang.

"Well hello there," he intoned a bit musically.




Writer: Wyltte
Date Mon Feb 20 00:54:08 2023




Writer: Euterah
Date Mon Feb 20 10:08:11 2023

To All Darkonin Verminasia Arkane Dragoth Zandreya (RP)

Subject Two Fingers



The Witch was in mourning. It was not a pretty situation she found
herself in. It was a petty affair at best. Exiled. Exiled from her
Mountain home, only because she dared give her opnion in these trying times.
The King Maynj Furpatch had not even listened to her advice Then what was
the use of a Sayer? All her work and effort, those many thousands of hours
were for nothing now. Despair crawled over her slight frame, ate it way
into her sould like some acid poured down her throat. She sat alone under
the shade of a great tree, it greenery and life unnoticed by the Witch.

Exiled! The Witch wept, silently as she could, tears rolled down her cheeks
leaving angry red marks. She had locked herself into such an emotional
holding pattern she felt her whole chest ache as grief wracked her. Grief
for her people, her home, herself wove and wend its tiny bitter fingers all
over her. She scarcely could breath. What was the King thinking, she had
told him she would not and did not care to plot for the throne again. She
had no need for that power any longer. She had been content to be advisor,
to run supplies to the Hollows and Fort Ghyt, ride route from Oduratt to
Icrit. Now, would those people be forgotten? She would rather her head on
a pike, Darkonin's motto tattooed over her forhead, {Never Forget{. She did
not forget. She found her grief loosening and another emotion taking hold.


Anger.

An angry Witch was a force with to be reckoned and if people were going to
think the worst of you why not then give them exactly what they thought.

She needed her gequine, a cauldron and ingredients. She would not be
stopped from helping her people. She would continue on. King Maynj's
assassins indeed. She would rally the whole of Hollows and Fort Ghyt, the
Warrens, Oduratt, Icrit. They would not forget. They would move forward.




Writer: Wyltte
Date Mon Feb 20 21:07:22 2023




Writer: Andreyna
Date Mon Feb 20 21:29:19 2023

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Zandreya Imm RP Religion Xenophon

Subject The White Lights- {nReturning to the Roots



Andreyna stood before the treant sapling planted between the river
flowing through the Vallens and the Mother's Atrium. What was once a
sapling of the shade was now translucent and alabaster, a crystallized
vallen leaf magically attached to it, filling it with the power of the White
Moon.

Though the sapling was not the answer to the rivers of light streaming
through the Vallens, she still cared for the treant and worried for it. She
hoped the Chancellor would consider attaching her own leaf to it, perhaps
neutralizing the power of the Light that flowed through it. The Aurora's
rivers of Light flowed through the Vallens, and now, a White Moon sapling
joined them.

The elfqueen had received reports that Gareth's General had visited the
small treant, welcoming its White Moon Light. Even going as far as
suggesting to one of the Vallen's elves that they should just let the rivers
of Light do their work, purifying the Vallens.

This angered the Bishop beyond belief. She did not want Aliera there to
begin with, she was told not to meddle, she was told that any concerns were
not to be addressed with the elves, but with leadership instead.

And yet, there she was, doing exactly what Andreyna had thought she would
do- welcoming the Lights of Nadrik and Kantilles into the Vallens and
pushing their agenda onto the elves, suggesting that it was needed to
welcome Zandreya home.

The Queen-Priest was fuming. How dare she? She knew squat about Zandreys
and the ways of the elves. The Lights were destroying not only any remnants
of the Warp that remained, but also any creation of the Mother's shade.
This was quite obviously to anyone in their right mind to be a dangerous and
destructive path. The Gods of Light had zero business in deciding what the
Mother's Holy Lands were in need of.

The General had better hope that Andreyna did not find her within the
Vallens, encouraging the Lights and pushing her lord's ways upon the elves.



Zandreya was needed in the Vallens. The Mother's cycles, the Mother's
Natural Balance. The blessings of Zandreya would return to Her Holy Lands
and it would be brought back by Her Children, not the blinded leaders of the
Light. The elves would return to their roots.




Writer: Thuken
Date Tue Feb 21 09:03:51 2023




Writer: Andreyna
Date Tue Feb 21 13:32:12 2023

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Zandreya Imm RP Religion Xenophon

Subject The White Lights- {nReturning to the Roots- 2



Talking to Flynoal didn't make the situation with the General any better.
She found out the General had actually had welcoming behaviors to the
patches of pristine alabster grasses that now grew within the vallens, not
the treant. Perhaps Andreyna had misunderstood the information she was
given. Either way, it didn't matter. If anything, it was worse.

The patches of alabaster grass with their golden tips were results of the
lights themselves- cleansing not only the Warp, but also any Darkness from
the Vallens. Is this what the Light wanted? Purified, pristine, alabaster
and translucence left behind? Calling it cleansed? Aliera had actually
smiled at the grass. Pleased with them. Happy of their existence. It was
sickening. It was infuriating.

Andreyna thought back to vision she witnessed. A vision given to the
pilgrims of Light. A pristine field, a white deer walking forth. They
cheered. They welcomed it. The elfqueen was disgusted by the vision but
did not think something like that would ever reach the Vallens, and yet,
here it was. The Light cleansing the Vallens of All places- daring to step
into the Mother's Holy Lands, daring to challenge Her domain with a vision
of their pure world.





Writer: Wyltte
Date Tue Feb 21 14:39:03 2023




Writer: Aliera
Date Tue Feb 21 16:47:29 2023

To All Knighthood Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Nadrik Zandreya Imm Rp Religion Xenophon

Subject The White Lights: Unwelcome aid



Fields of snowy white and translucent grasses studded by the occasional
shrub in All shades of the blue skies filled her dreams these days, though
now they were occasionally tipped in gold. Surging rivers of light running
alongside and beneath made the shimmering effect linger, stretching beyond
thought and memory enough to almost seem right there in her office. The
sight took her breath away even in dreams. In person, they were
magnificent, awe-inspiring things and she had a growing appreciation for
them that was only stronger as she learned more of them and as she was
spending more time in places with them as of late.

The elves were hardly pleased with her presence and aid, or at least not all
of them.

There were days when the Elf Queen's fury was nearly palpable from the Keep,
and seemingly thoroughly directed at the General herself. Her feelings and
assumptions had left her with a wave of anger that simply was proving her
too blind to see what it was in front of her. Of course, the Light rivers
coursing through the forest had the Queen on edge, and why wouldnt they?
They were an attack after all, though not nearly what she seemed to imagine,
without care for any aftermath.

For All of the misplaced anger aimed in the General's direction, she did
understand, to a point. It was a feeling most of the Light was familiar
with as well, to be blinded by hot burning anger that could or could not be
justified to others, at least from time to time. However, it was also why
the Knights of Gareth tempered themselves, it was not they that were called
the Wrath.




Writer: Aliera
Date Tue Feb 21 16:51:27 2023

To All Knighthood Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Nadrik Zandreya Imm Rp Religion Xenophon

Subject The White Lights: Unwelcome aid (II)



She felt for the Elven Queen, truly for the Elven people themselves, they
were lashing out like wounded animals, and for All intents and purposes,
they were. Unfortunately, wounded animals tended to bite. However,
whatever wounds were there had not been caused or exploited by the forces of
Good, despite the accusations thinly veiled or hurled, depending on the
source.

The Regent was not any more pleased to see Aliera about than the Queen was,
and he had in fact seen her more than others, timing being what it was. She
was seen as an intruder, making light of the situation at hand, but they had
no idea how wrong they were. His own flash of anger in her direction for
the act of a simple smile was evidence enough of that. He was a protector,
an Elf in some leadership in the Vallens, and an ally, though the last of
those bonds was certainly being tested as of late. As much as the Queen
might have called it 'harrassing', the General had tried to be as respectful
as she might in her dealings with Flynoal, she did respect the man.

The Speaker of the Stars had been an entirely different matter. She knew
Laendyn well, and it was a decades-old friendship that thankfully was a
positive point in this whole tense dealing within the alliance. He had even
apologized, for the way he and the Queen had been acting about the whole
thing and asked for her help directly.

Little had changed, in the wake of the meeting. If anything, the reception,
particularly after being asked to help, was colder still and was wearing her
patience thin despite her offer to aid. Angry or not, who asked for aid
only to rebuke it because they would not stand still long enough to hear the
answer they sought? Did they really think her so ill-motivated as to want
to cause them harm? To be making light of what was happening? On the
contrary, the Bishop had taken the situation with the utmost seriousness,
evening seeking her own Lord on the matter.

And He had answered.

She had offered her help, and given her word, as a General and a Priestess,
to seek out what she could about what they only saw as destruction at the
hands of light. Now she had answers, and she only hoped they would listen,
even if they did not want to hear it.




Writer: Wyltte
Date Tue Feb 21 17:02:03 2023




Writer: Euterah
Date Tue Feb 21 17:34:59 2023

To All Darkonin Arkane IMM Dragoth Zandreya (RP)

Subject One Finger



It was a pleasant journey over the ice plains to the Hollows. Snow fell
like waves, undulating flakes of crystal with which the clouds provided
cover for her and K'reegah. The Witch enjoyed the bracing cold. She had
for a long while now found the solitude of winter a gracious companion. It
was the peace that came with patience. It was certainly better than feeling
that the combination of stress and grief, that lately overwhelmed her. She
was not allowed into Darkonin proper.

Fine, she was beginning to grieve less, fine. Was she not yet still in the
throes of mourning? Certainly the Witch was, but it did not diminish her
love for the people of Darkonin. It did not quit her devout service to
them. She would yet ride route through the territories and help bring
supplies to Fort Ghyt. She would not be overcome by the action that had
occurred. Her heart simply beat for Darkonin. It always had and alway
would.

She would rise above. If Maynj wanted her gone from Darkonin, very well.
The Witch would not stop working for those that had made her queen in the
past. She would not forget. She could only pray and hope, wish and dream
that the King would come to his senses.

The snow fell. The wind gusted. The gequine's hooves rang out over the
ice.

There was yet work to be done, no rest for the wicked. The witch knew that
to be succintly true.




Writer: Maynj
Date Tue Feb 21 22:18:09 2023

To All Darkonin Imm Rp Raije Dragoth Drakkara Fatale Devion

Subject Iron Claw



"Alot has happened, I feel betrayed completely!" He barked at his
assassins in frustration. Having to remove Usurpers and be treated like a
enemy for defending himself. "I did what any King would... I try to build
the mountain back up and All any care about is power.. I made it Clear I
rule with a Iron Claw.. I have zero tolerance and Ill stand by my decisions
for I know in my heart I am not wrong. I have Grar and a few guards going
to Fort Ghyt and Icirit.. You two will stay close... I feel the threat
isn't completely gone and the three of us can handle whatever comes our way!
The assassins grinned and nodded in agreement. One of the assassins said
"We have a gift for you King Iron claw!" Maynj smiled at the mention of a
positive remark something he hadn't heard in days "Finally something good to
brighten the week"
Maynj looked on with anticipation. The Assassin nodded
at his brother and he stepped out of the Throne room and returned shortly
with a Large bear with a huge spiked collar and a heavy chain leash.
"Through All of this you missed your birthday sire" the assassin stated.
The bear was very dossile and seemed to be well trained by a Shogun from a
Shokono guild. Smiling at this elegant gift Maynj says "We shall see!...
Also I need one of you to retrieve a small batallion of reavers and Escort
me to Fort Ghyt and bring supplies to them. We will bring the bear and a
few Warg riders.
The assassin nodded starting out of the room King Maynj
stopped him and said "One other thing... The assassin stopping and saying
"Yes Sire? Maynj unfolded a cloth it was a red flag bearing a Black Iron
Bearclaw. "This is to be our new flag it will be flown by the Warg Riders
when they escort us to Fort Ghyt and my Loyal soldiers will wear the Brand
of the Iron Claw"
"Take it to the tailors and have them craft me as many as
we need to properly outfit the Mountain... Also tell the men to be battle
ready we dont know what we will be facing or how many arrows will be aimed
at us. But whatever the threat will will eliminate with the wrath of the
Iron Claw!
The assassin Nodded and left the Room. Maynj thought for a
second and looked to the Other assassin and said "While I am gone redesign
the Punishment pit remove the spikes and add some starving boars the biggest
and most aggressive you can find and place them in the pit... Also have
Grar double patrols and order him to execute ANYONE! That does not belong
here!"
"I MEAN ANYONE THAT DOESN'T BELONG HERE... Ill Be back quickly I
assure you.. This Visit will be quick and to the Point"
The assassin nodded
and got to work. Maynj went and mounted a large black warg his bear
obediently by his side the Riders hoisting the Iron Claw flag The King
yelled "MOVE OUT!!! The Small battalion started off marching toward Fort
Ghyt.




Writer: Z'szytheis

Date Wed Feb 22 10:30:10 2023

To All Skoden Z'quarus Raije ( IMM RP RELIGION )

Subject The Ritual (I)



The bodies that were once hung were now laid to rest deep into the ground
along with the rot and decay. The smell was not as pungent as before. He
no longer walked with his cloaked donned. Z'szytheis was proud of what was
accomplished within Ironclad. He chuckled to himself as he strolled through
the Fort, "Redemption.. It is near. " A loud voice can be heard from the
distance, "Recruit! " The voice already familiar to the snake. It was the
Highlord Skoden.

He quickly passed through Hammurabi Square towards the Temple Altar. "Yes,
Highlord?
" As he salutes to show respect. "You are to work alongside the
Count of Abaddon, Z'quarus. And you will represent the Templars, recruit.
" his stern order was given to Z'szytheis. He simply nodded once at the
Highlord, "Very well, Highlord. "

Moons waned and waxed as Z'szytheis was awaiting word. "Open the gates! "
Yelled the gateguards. As the gates swung open, a man dressed in black
walked past it carrying a scroll. "This is for the Ironclad Fort from the
Count.
" The bakali nodded at the gateguards and advanced towards the man
to receive the scroll. "I've waited for some time now. Did you get lost
finding your way here?
" seeming quite agitated. The man dressed in black
can be seen quivering as the bakali towered over him. "W-w-well.. The
trees and m-m-mountains.. Then.. The m-m-muck in Ar-arkane...
"

Z'szytheis shakes his head in disappointment as he takes the scroll. "You
may go. Do not linger too long, messenger.
" As he makes his way to look
for the Highlord.




Writer: Maynj

Date Wed Feb 22 12:56:51 2023

To All Darkonin Raije Dragoth Drakkara Fatale Devion Imm Rp

Subject Fort Ghyt



Maynj and his troops arrived at the Fort The King and his bear leading
the way a wagon full of supplies followed by a buggy of weapons and armor.
Sliding down off the Warg the King yelled "Gather around everyone! Not
understanding everyone gathered around to hear what the King had to say.
"Today is the day you make choices you are the last line of defense before
reaching the Mountain You can take up arms and defend Darkonin and learn to
fight or you can join the Witch you are so loyal to in exile. This is a
Fort not a Market you can carry on with your trades as well as take up
arms... If you are attacked Darkonin will come to your aid but if you
depend on us and refuse to take up arms I will appoint a ambassador to take
over and he will Bring in his own people and run the Fort as he sees fit.
Not understanding whats going on they began to murmer being spoiled by the
former Queen they seemed to have forgot what the Purpose of a fort really
is. One mouthy youngster tested the King stepping out and barking threats
and charged the King when he got in striking range the bear had stood up and
one slap of the mighty bears claws sent the agressor to Fatale another in
protest stepped out and started toward the King being quickly put to rest by
the Kings assassin. "Again I say you are either with me or againsed me if
you choose to stand againsed me it will not be a good thing this is the
reign of the Iron Claw and it is time to bring Darkonin back to what it was
meant to be not a haven of puppies but a mountain of Warlords and Raiders.
I will send supplies to those whome deserve it but you will not be coddled
any longer you will earn what I send by being A line of Defense for
Darkonin. And if I have to come back here because of a resistance you will
not like the outcome.. The new flags are to be flown and respected they
bear the mark of the Iron Claw If I return and they aren't flying it will be
considered treason and people will be put to death.. Carry on enjoy the
supplies equip yourselves and do what citizens of a Fort do and fight for
their Kingdom"
Climbing back on his warg the King rode over to his assassin
and told him "Give them supplies outfit them and train them if they
revolt... Kill them they are a Fort not a Village able body men need to
learn to fight women need to learn how to dress wounds and run supplies"
The
assassin nodded and escorted the King back to the gates of Darkonin before
the King rode off he told the assassin "If they choose to fight for me place
a Iron Claw brand on the back of their hand."
Nodding again the assassin
secured the gates behind the King and went back towards the Fort. The King
arrived back at the Throne room his trusted assassin sitting by the door and
his loyal bear laying on the floor next to the Throne he looked into the pit
and saw two huge boars scarred from fighting with long sharp tusks. A smile
crossed his face. Maynj leaned back in the Throne and said "If only
everyone showed the loyalty and dedication My assassins and my bear do
Darkonin would shake the very foundation we march upon"
Maynj leaned back in
the Throne and dozed off knowing and feeling secure for the first time in
days and slept through the night.




Writer: Wyltte

Date Wed Feb 22 13:06:09 2023




Writer: Z'szytheis

Date Wed Feb 22 15:17:17 2023

To All Skoden Z'quarus Justian Marauders Abaddon Chaos Raije ( IMM RP RELIGION )

Subject The Ritual (II)



Unraveling the scroll, the two look at it thoroughly. The Highlord
places his hand on his chin as they read on. "Dreamcatchers. " The bakali
looks at the Highlord, looking puzzled. "What do you think of this,
Highlord?
" The Highlord took a moment and looked around the Fort. The
bodies no longer around however the taints still lingered upon the walls and
ground. "We have attempted many ways in removing the etchings of these
walls and of the ground. They always return. I am not oppose to it,
recruit.
" Z'szytheis leaned on the wall, also taking a moment. Although
skeptical to the idea, he admired Skoden's leadership of the Ironclad and
placed his trust in his decision. "Hm, then I shall continue with my
delegated tasks.
"

"Branches. Feathers. Precious stones. Spiders. "

Z'szytheis walked out the northern gate, peering around his surroundings.
Ample amount of trees surrounded him. He walked towards them, analyzing
every bit of the branch and began breaking them apart. He chuckled as he
collected the branches. Then paused for a moment as memories flood his
head. He hisses loudly, venom dripping from one of his fangs. "Justian!
You have something of mine. I am coming for you. You will deliver what's
mine and I shall deliver what's yours.
"

As he gripped tightly on the branch, his charred hand begins to crack.
Blood can be seen seeping out and covering the branch then dripping to the
floor. "Mine. " He shakes his head vigorously in attempt to get out of his
raged state and continues filling the sack with supple branches.




Writer: Kaerick

Date Wed Feb 22 15:20:08 2023

To All Piknim Shadow Verminasia Drakkara Imm RP Religion Tritoch Crelius

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Inquisition ( Part Six )



Varek could not make out where he was. It was dark, he was shivering,
and his eyes could not maintain focus. Everything was hazy, his skin
itched, and he desperately needed water. His feverish mind tried to make
sense of his surroundings but All he could recount was two green orbs. He
opened his mouth and pleaded with the void.

'Help me! Where am I?! Anyone! ' he cried out into the darkness.

A shadow came into his vision, it seemed a cowled form. His mind tingled
and he felt a distant memory creep into his thoughts as a voice called out
to him.

'My soldier, I am here. Long have you waited for my return and your
fidelity will be rewarded. But first you must tell me, where are my Ebon
Hand?
' asked the soft voice.

'Lord Atennim! By God you have returned! Please release me! Heal me!
Faithful I have been. Your Hand exists but we are scattered to the winds,
hidden like rats in holes. Have you come to reclaim what is yours?
'
pleaded Varek.

'Hush now, I have. Tell me where they have gone so that I may collect them
and we can cleanse these lands of the betrayers. Tell me Varek and we can
leave this place in earnest.
' pressed the voice.

'Yes, Lord. Yegraine.. She went to Cheddyr village to create a some
weapon. She wouldn't say. Always odd that one, I think she fully went to
Chaos in her madness. Gennar went to Blackridge to pose as a stablemaster I
think... Yes! That's it! Vilgresh went to Riverrun, some old Keep there.
Captain Somnar said he was going home. Somewhere outside Gemorath, he said
he had a farmstead there. That's All I know, M'Lord. Please, let us be rid
of this place!
' answered the soldier.

'Excellent my faithful. You have served me well Varek and so I shall free
you.
' praised the voice.

Varek continued to look at the cowled form as the shadows grew darker. Yet
in that abyss, a glint of light caught his eyes before the eternal night
took his sight.

The head of Varek fell to the ground with a thud and Kaerick wiped his blade
clean. The body of the soldier slumped to the ground as well.

'Captain, mark the names down and the towns stated so that I may plan our
next move.
' ordered the Inquisitor.

'Yes, Templar. ' Gorren stole a glance at the dead man and then the
Templar. In that moment the Captain felt relief he was not the hunted.





Writer: Wyltte

Date Wed Feb 22 15:53:35 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Wed Feb 22 16:46:58 2023




Writer: Takeri

Date Wed Feb 22 20:34:28 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Wed Feb 22 23:57:04 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Thu Feb 23 13:10:07 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Thu Feb 23 13:52:03 2023




Writer: Gozzle

Date Thu Feb 23 14:34:18 2023




Writer: Z'szytheis

Date Thu Feb 23 14:38:51 2023

To All Skoden Z'quarus Marauders Raije ( IMM RP RELIGION )

Subject The Ritual (III)



The sack was filled with the branches. Z'szytheis takes a deep breath as
he looks about his surroundings. Trees. With no more reachable branches.
Looking back at the sack on the ground, "This will have to do. " He took a
brief rest and sat down near one of the trees. "Now for the feathers,
stones and.. Spiders.
" He seemed to enjoy this task as he was able to
further explore the outlying lands of the Ironclad. It felt as if he was
more of a gatherer nowadays rather than a hunter. The bakali chuckled at
the thought, "I guess we can go for the stones first. Then the spiders.
Leave the feathers for last.
" as he pats his quiver filled with arrows.

Z'szytheis stood up and lifted his branch filled sack and made his way to
the northern gates of the Fort. He placed them down and yelled to the
gateguards, "Make certain that these remain here, I will return for them
shortly!
" The gateguards nodded and gave a salute as the snake made his
way to the mountain pass. He made his way through the forest and arrived at
the base of the mountain. He looked about but found rocks with no
particular characteristics. Just rocks.

He grumbled, "Now if we were in Thaxanos, we'd find something worth picking.
" He trekked on to the top of the mountain. Tired, he took a seat near a
boulder overlooking the kingdom of Arkane. He glances around and notices
something peeking from the side of the mountain. The suns rays reflecting a
sheen on the bakali's scales. His eyes widened and gets up on his feet. He
begins to walk towards it, "What do we have here.. " he chuckles. It seems
he was mistaken. It wasn't only Thaxanos that possessed precious stones.
The mountains surrounding the Ironclad was rich in resources, as well.

The edge of the stone poked out from the side. As Z'szytheis came closer to
it, the sheen remained. It was black as the night's sky and shiny.
"Obsidian. " He ruffled through his bag and takes out a mining pick. The
bakali removes his armor and lays it on the ground. Every lift and swing
with a purpose until he exposed a huge rock still stuck to the side of the
mountain. He lowers his pick and gently tugs at the stone with both his
hands.

The stone was beautiful, it glistened as he lowered it gently to the floor.
Z'szytheis reaches for his dagger made of arcanium as he carefully carves
out pieces of the rock, placing them into his sack. He grunts as he takes
the last piece of the stone into the container. "May you be pleased, Raije.
"




Writer: Wyltte

Date Thu Feb 23 14:44:26 2023




Writer: Z'szytheis

Date Thu Feb 23 15:11:20 2023

To All Skoden Z'quarus Marauders Raije ( IMM RP RELIGION )

Subject The Ritual (IV)



The snake made his way down the mountain carrying the sack on his
shoulder. The container rubbed on his scales causing noticeable scrapes and
scratches on them. As he journeyed down towards the base, he looked about
thinking of where he might find these spiders the Count of Abaddon requested
of him. Upon reaching a flat plain, westward lied a castle which seemed
unkept. Rubbles laid on the floor and the gates wide open. "Old, abandoned
and filled with webs.
" Spiders surely inhabited that castle.

Z'szytheis made his way to the northern gates once again. He placed the
sack filled with obsidian right next to where he placed the branches. The
gateguard yelled at him, "Recruit, I surely hope those are not bodies! We
just buried those within our Fort!
" as the guard notices the bloody sack.
Z'szytheis laughs, "No, these are materials required for our upcoming
ritual! Don't you worry. I've more self control now as I did before.
"
grinning at the gateguard.

He thought of where he would place the spiders. Did Z'quarus want them dead
or alive? "I guess I'll bring them to him alive. " he thought. He walks
into the Fort to Flunt's Sundries. "rFlunt, I'm looking for jars. Jars big
enough to fit.. Spiders.
" as Z'szytheis walks around examining the things
being sold within the shop. Flunt looks at Z'szytheis puzzled, "Well, I do
have some glass jars but.. What in the hell do you need spiders for?!
" he
laughs. Z'szytheis grumbles at the storeowner, "The ritual.. To remove
that taint from your store door. I suppose you want them removed, yes?
"
Flunt remained quiet, nodded his head and filled a container with glass jars
with their covers.

Z'szytheis smirks as he takes the leather backpack and walks towards the
northern gates making his way to the castle he saw at the plains. He stands
at the gates and notices something unusual. Ghostly figures floating about
as if guarding the castle can be seen. The ghostly figure stops at the
gates and faces Z'szytheis. "What.. Business.. Do.. You.. Have..
Here?!
"

"Hrm, and they talk.. " Z'szytheis was in no mood to talk as he was all
talked out from his last encounter with Flunt. He quickly runs into the
castle and looks at the corners of the castle. "Webs.. Spiders.. "
Displaying his speed and agility, he quickly swings the glass jar into the
web then closing it and repeating the process while the ghosts chase him
down.

After closing the last jar, he looks back as he exits the castle. Standing
at the entrance were an army of ghosts yelling incomprehensibly. "Thank
you!
" says the bakali as he maniacally laughs.




Writer: Z'szytheis

Date Thu Feb 23 15:43:33 2023

To All Skoden Z'quarus Marauders Raije ( IMM RP RELIGION )

Subject The Ritual (V) - Ending



Z'szytheis still laughing as he walked towards the northern gates, "What
an encounter..
" as he places the container down on the ground. The
gateguard yells at Z'szytheis, "Get some rest, recruit! You've been at it
since this morning. It's nearing sun down!
" The snake was visibly tired
and worn out but there was no way he'd procrastinate the last task. The
thrill of the hunt exhilirated him. The gateguard can be heard grunting as
he opened the gates. A huge burly figure can be seen walking past it.

The towering figure stood still, it was the Highlord. Z'szytheis gets on
his feet and salutes Skoden, "Highlord, don't mind the mess.. I've
collected most but not All that was requested of me. Just the feathers are
all that's needed.
" The ogre nods in approval, "You've been hard at work.
I'm glad the trial is nearing its end, as I am eager to take these next
steps.
" The bakali chuckles slightly and scratches the scale atop his
head, "Have you an idea as to where I may find these feathers? Any specific
birds that possess great quality feathers?
" Skoden places his hand on his
chin, "The Count specifically said the fowl within the trees you harvested
the branches from, if that helps in your decision making.
"

Z'szytheis nods at the Highlord, "Ah, I did see them! This will be great
practice.
" as he rubs the quiver on his back. The bakali salutes the
Highlord as he walks toward the forest where he took the branches from. The
birds are seen sitting atop the trees, loud chirping and fluttering of their
wings can be heard. Z'szytheis positions himself and prepares his bow and
arrows. He pulls at his bowstring, carefully aiming.

SWWWWWWIIIISH!

The arrow penetrates the fowl at it's breast and quickly topples over
falling to the ground. Blood soaked the ground. "Just a few more. " grins
Z'szytheis. The arrows flying through the air and simultaneous sounds of
the birds dropping can be heard. He gathers the birds and places them
together as he sits down, carefully plucking the feathers then placing them
in a bag. "It is done. "

He ties the fowl together and drags them back to the Fort, "Tonight, we eat!
"




Writer: Euterah

Date Thu Feb 23 18:54:08 2023

To All Darkonin Maynj IMM (RP) Religion Zandreya Dragoth

Subject Catalyst



The Witch was beginning to accept that the King would not let her come
back home. She was desolute, yet she could still visit the Mountain and
outlying territories. She worked for a half day within the Warrens,
bringing food to the people there. There was a certain undetermined quiet
wherever she walked. She felt everyone's eyes on her. She could not suss
out what was going on until she met with the Hollows council. She spoke
with Sagemn the Plaguebearer, her mentor and trusted old friend.

"There are new orders to follow, Eut, you put us All in danger, girl. The
Iron Claw rules now. He thinks us soft and useless here. Dkom will be
replaced in Fort Ghyt. You must not come here any longer.
"

Those words were a blow to the Witch's psyche, something cracked deep within
her, more than her pride or heart. A thing that used to have wings, hope,
the Witch retreated to Icrit. No longer able to get K'reegah from the inner
reaches of Darkonin.

She was treated much the same. She felt the whole world unstable. Her feet
under her she had to force to take steps, her magic was paltry, she reeled.
A deep dark hole gnawed and grew within her. She did not know what to do or
where to go. She felt awful, sick to her stomach, as if she was once again
under the Dark Dwarves rule. She withdrew to Arkane and nursed wounds that
festered, soulish wounds.

The Witch was changing and she did not entirely care for the change.




Writer: Maynj

Date Thu Feb 23 22:56:06 2023

To All Darkonin Raije Drakkara Dragoth Fatale Devion Imm Rp

Subject Return to the Fort ( The Follow Up Visit)


Climbing upon his giant black warg spear in hand and bear at his side
accompanied by his faithful guard Maynj started toward the Fort. As he got
close a smile passed his face as he heard the clanging of swords and the
grunts of sparring troops. He rode into the Fort and heard his other
assassin yell "HALT... HAIL KING MAYNJ!!" Everyone stopped and slammed
fists to chest in salute joining in the chant. Maynj rode up to the
assassin and slid down off the Warg. He asked the commander "Any resistance
from anyone?"
The assassin nodded and said "Two one was arrested and is
waiting on the next transport out and there was a Elder that refered to you
as a "cheeky Goats arse" I removed his tongue and now when he tries to speak
he sounds like a goat being murdered"
A glare passed the Kings face as he
looked to the Elder. "The elder is no longer a elder but now the Fool of
the Fort he will clean the warg pens. How are the numbers looking?"
He
asked the commander whome produced a piece of parchment looking over it
Maynj Nodded in approval. Walking down the line of soldiers he smiled at
the number of Iron Claw brands he saw. "Finish whipping them into shape
when they are ready we are going to see where we stand with the rest of our
colonies."
Maynj started back toward his warg and the commander said "One
more thing Sire... The plaguebearer reported the Witch came and she was
turned away"
Maynj nodded in approval. "Good. As soon as the troops are
ready we March to Icrit to see where their loyalties lie.. If they are
unloyal to us the supply lines will close to them Also send a couple of your
best scouts to Gruntz to make sure their Loyalties are at " Maynj turned and
started back toward Darkonin and stopped suddenly and turned back and said
"Bring me the prisoner Ill take him back with me I cant wait to show him the
newly remodeled punnishment pit."
The assassin brought the prisoner and
handed a rope binding his hands and started back toward the mountain
stopping at the Newly designed flag and raises his spear to the flag
saluting it. Maynj started chanting "Iron Claw of Darkonin!! Everyone
joined in chanting "Iron Claw" "Iron Claw" The Warg howled loudly and reared
up and Maynj rode into the Mountain. Arriving back in Darkonin he told his
assassin "Take the prisoner to the Cells and feed him a good meal for it
will be his last... I am retiring to the Throne room Join me when done."

Maynj whistled and his bear came running to his side he handed the Reins of
the warg to the stable master and made his way to the throne room.




Writer: Euterah

Date Fri Feb 24 07:10:56 2023

To All Darkonin Arkane Maynj Zandreya Dragoth Religion (RP) IMM

Subject What Waking Thought



"I see. " She said, leaving the War Chief with her three wispy fluffs of
dandelions to wish upon. The eradication of her being was total. She was
no long counted in Icrit Zal'daan. There was no one thing she could do to
change their minds. They were All afraid.

She presumed this was what Maynj had sought, to bend every citizen to his
Iron Claw. She loathed his rule. Unjust, cowardly might makes right, she
percolated the hatred for this man in her heart.

She had made a home and not unlike rot she had wove together a foundation,
as mycelium does before fruiting. The intertwined fingers solidly clinging
to what she had built. The rot had blossomed as it does in mushroom form,
heady those years had been and now it was given over to something
unrecognizable. The Fort Ironclad was Darkonin now. She wondered how much
influence the Highlord of that region had on Maynj.

She was distraught with thinking. The Witch wrinkled up her brow, her head
hurt, her heart hurt. She should quell thought. She sought refuge now in a
landscape she did not love. There was no rest, there was no peace, where
was the goddess she had called on since youth. It occured to her that
perhaps Zandreya -was- only for the elves, that she was really praying to a
goddess that would never hear her praise, never acknowledge her pleas.

The Witch moved to the shrine she had been directed to on Tropica and began
to really wonder. Was the goddess there for All that called on her name.
Was the Witch damning herself by ignoring the Creator of her race. Maybe
Dragoth did make her for a purpose beyond what she had done. If so, what
purpose was it?

The Witch did not know, but determined to discover. Zandreya was silent to
her. She would seek her Father's voice. Where there is no purpose there is
only death.




Writer: Wyltte

Date Fri Feb 24 09:43:45 2023




Writer: Piknim

Date Fri Feb 24 14:29:12 2023




Writer: Symantha

Date Sat Feb 25 16:28:39 2023

To Shadow Verminasia Abaddon All ( Imm Drakkara Cayenna Xenophon Tritoch ) Carrionmaw

Subject The Tide Rises - {uStirring {uUmbra


"{uIt has been interesting to watch something grow for so long."

{u -oOo{u-

They paced slowly through the dark hallways of Storm Keep, passing from
flickering torch to flickering torch, and with each step the soft clack of
beads lifted to stir the silence.

The Keep was not whole, and neither was the Dark Lord. The affliction that
coiled in him was a slow but steady attack as it sought to cleanse and
petrify.

His presence nearby, moving at an easy pace to her side, brought the
consideration into stark focus. There was a sense to the lightscale and it
made the umbra-scar on her palm itch. Clenching her fingers in a fist over
the mark, she let the sound of his plated steps lull her while the shadows
chased out before and pursued behind their path.

There was a connection there, something that had long been present. Shared,
perhaps, from the moment they had both determined to take up the clergy
vestments but, made truly manifest in the years that had proceeded His Fall.

The soft clack of the beads stopped when she lowered her hand to the pommel
of the runeblade at her side and felt a dark stillness take hold as its
words lifted in her mind...

In the aether, twin flames shall be bound
to a unity brought together..

The umbra stirred even there in the hallway and she tilted her steel gaze
toward him, only to find that he had done the same. His hand, she noted,
had also settled on the pommel of his runeblade.

There were no coincidences and hadn't been in a very long while. For every
pawn moved, for every action taken, a reaction - or a consequence. Even in
this; the breath of prophecy - of destiny. A dark deed crafted long ago.

The thought brought her attention back to the visible lightscale at his
neck, above the plated collar, and her grip tightened around the pommel as
the rest of the umbral revelation whispered forth.

..so that to the end of days - the Flesh and the Soul
which in the Darkness have ripened - that the paired
forever fate-drawn be.

No one understood her better than he and she saw it register in his slate
grays even as they resumed their pace through the quiet halls. The Light
had a great deal to gain if their ploy succeeded here but she was counting
on their arrogance, their ego, and their headlong drive to repeat at least
some of their own histories.

Her pace had quickened, her jaw tight, but the invocation of her appellation
eased both. He was calm if pensive in his own right, as ever. Their
destination reached, he drew the heavy door open to the spill of night, of
the black moon's radiance, and they departed into the courtyard.




Writer: Symantha

Date Sat Feb 25 16:38:56 2023

To Shadow Verminasia Abaddon All ( Imm Drakkara Cayenna Xenophon Tritoch ) Carrionmaw

Subject The Tide Rises - {uNightscape


"{uTo have been a voice in how to shape its very essence, the
{u mastermind behind the vision that would come to be."

{u-oOo{u-

The raw power of the red dragon soaring amidst the night sky was not lost on
her.

That this ancient wyrm, of an age and dynasty most of Algoron could scarce
recall, permitted her to sit astride his magnificence never failed to
instill a deep wonder.

The years had not been especially kind to either of them. The losses, and
even some of the successes, had taken their immense toll and as she passed
her fingers over the warm crimson scales she held to - she was faced with
this still. Lightscale had threaded through his scales, which was just the
latest scar among many

The dark fiery rage stirred ever more at this.

It had been given a form, she felt it in the umbra - in the power that
Drakkara had gifted her upon ascension. The sacrifices had piled up,
stripping Symantha Kesepton of All that she had been to make way for all
that could be - would be. But the journey had, thus far, left her sharply
aware of its cost.

The same could be said of Carrionmaw, she mused. Without great adversity,
which he surely understood better than most, one might never meet the
challenge that would carry them higher still once they rose past them.

She tore her gaze from the mesmerizing crimson of the scale beneath her hand
and looked to the horizon. The stars stopped there, the lands black beneath
a Black Moon, with no hint of dawn.

It would be worth it, she vowed in silence. It was a vow they had spoken of
in a variety of ways, and they had the time to spare to make it so.

But the dark of the land and the creeping shadows that rushed by, their
flight driving them headlong into that purity, stole her thoughts - left
them elsewhere.

{u-oOo{u-

They stood arrayed in a place of unmaking. On a threshold of dark divine
vicissitude, to gaze upon the emptiness of a dead god's star.

Like a hole in the fabric of the Night, what had empowered it now was a mere
nebulous wisp that whirled down through a dark void to an obelisk below.

The guiding stars of Necrucifer were no more, but the Dark Queen's
constellation could not be denied in its magnificence now. Her grip had
taken hold and she could feel it, despite standing in the place that felt so
much like the monument of His end.

This was the second anchor; she was drawn like an arrow to a target.

It was time.




Writer: Symantha

Date Sat Feb 25 16:56:00 2023

To Shadow Verminasia Abaddon All ( Imm Drakkara Cayenna Xenophon Tritoch ) Carrionmaw

Subject The Tide Rises {u-{u Dark {uReflection


"{uThis is a new era."

{u-oOo{u-

"No one who understands the primal principles of Darkness, the truth that
lies at its core, could blame you. But that doesn't mean they won't resent
your initiative and what it has garnered you. What it still offers and may
grant the...competently bold."

The voice was Talmont's, or might have been once. It had been warped,
twisted by something. The grip of a spectral hand at the back of her neck
was bitingly cold and it sent icy spikes of pain through her jaw and
shoulders. The sharp sarcastic humor was the same though.

She was on the promontory again, over which a chasm - an endless sea of
umbral shadows - churned below. The whole of the sea moved as if it were
alive but it was the dark purple rift waiting just below her position to
which her gaze was locked.

It crackled and sparked with violent threads of dark lightning that reached
for her, and the grasp at her neck was her only anchor. She watched it with
a knowing, feeling the rush of anticipation grip her insides.

His chuckle was eerie and merciless, "Will you sink or swim, priestess."

Her breath went out in a long exhale and with an almost gentle push, the
specter set her on the next leg of her journey. She'd known it was coming
but then, she had known Lazerus Talmont a long time.

As she had stood on the jut of land once, deep in the Rip, a revelation had
been given; a prophecy. Now, she fell and the rift caught her descent as if
it had been waiting for just this.

It wasn't water she plunged into but it enveloped her as if it were, and it
held her as assuredly. There was no swimming up because there was no
direction or surface in the purity of the tenebrous current and soon, she
struggled for breath, for life - burned for it.

In that unsullied expanse, the priestess drifted, her robes casting her
figure and pale flesh in a ghostly pallor while long honey-dark curls
floated in the nothing - and gray eyes met the inevitable fate with the same
steel that had carried her through All her life.

And challenged it.

Rather than fight the fire that burned through her, striving for air and
survival in this place empty of it, she inhaled the umbral black. To drown
in it.

It was a triumphant roar that brought her awareness back with a jerk that
arched her in the drift and when her eyes opened, she was mesmerized by a
dark reflection that shimmered with ethereal quality before her - a current
among the current.

Ephemeral and drifting with unfathomable dark shades of color, umbral eyes
gazed back at Symantha Kesepton - at first her own, and then his.

Dark Flame. His eyes were hers and then they were aflame; a passionate
molten scape. On impulse, she reached into the mirror sheen with her
scarred hand...and was rewarded with his heavily scarred grasp.

The umbra flared between them, through both, and then Telthian pulled her
through...

...and she woke with a sudden deep inhale.




Writer: Wyltte

Date Sat Feb 25 21:15:37 2023




Writer: Crelius

Date Sat Feb 25 23:56:23 2023

To All Chaos Shadow Verminasia Marauders ( IMM RP )

Subject The Path to Ruin: Reliquary


Despite the honor that he held of possessing a dull familiarity of the
chamber, the descent into the tower's depths never ceased to rake upon the
nerves of his resolve. The ephemeral dread of ancient whispers, there and
gone, played their tune upon the air with a phantom resonance. He winced as
he pressed forward through the empty, spherical hall. Considering what
twisted machinations led to the construction of such a place as he walked.
The acoustics lending to the etheric words and syllables that chattered and
moaned incessantly, as if this place was shaped to attune them. Testing the
will of All who stepped within like a wraith's icy breath. The wailing
gallery, as it had been named, lingered with those who passed through it
with a soul creeping taint. Sparing passage only to those by the concession
of the custodian who dwelled below.

With a shudder he reached an arched entryway, carved from the smooth granite
of the room's walls. Leading to rough cut steps that sank hopelessly into
the yawning darkness below. As he descended, the ghostly murmurs reached
their diminuendo. Giving way to the sound of a more material chorus. He
could hear the maddened rasps of the slave-cult's songs chittering in
fevered anticipation. Some in dialects foreign to him, and others in words
more familiar. They All sang the same refrain, take our lives so that we
may transcend.

Despite having traversed this pathway more than once, it unsettled him that
his eyes could never adjust to the shadows of this passageway. It was as if
the dark was a burned reflection of itself. A stain that permeated within
his bones and mind, reminding him of a presence he had only felt in the
halls of the bastion. The lingering echoes of a dead god.

As he neared the threshold to the chamber below, he heard the guttural
chanting increase in tenacity. The unrhythmic hymns heightened to a manic
rapture as if responding to his very approach. With his final step onto
rough and dusty landing, he gazed outward into the wide void of the chasm.

This place had changed since he first beheld it. What was once an empty
cavern, with little more than the melancholy of dust and forgotten dreams,
was now a churning heart burning with the sanguine fires of ambition. Where
derelict relics once stood in time honored display, now twisted effigies and
crude fetishes stood in their place. Testaments to some unknown power,
revealed only by the unyielding glow of fiery pyres placed in hexagrammic
significance throughout the hollow. One, he saw, was about to be lit anew.
The terrored cries of the hapless soul hoisted upon its stake muffled by the
frenzied chants below.

Dismembered corpses, other sacrifices, were carefully arranged in a myriad
about the obsidian-rock ground. Their bodies splayed to resemble cryptic
symbols with a meaning he did not understand. Placed in tandem with eight
pointed glyphs carved in bloodied ruin upon the rubbled floor. Together
creating a ghastly mosaic that spanned the length and width of the dreadful
delve.




Writer: Crelius

Date Sun Feb 26 00:06:01 2023

To All Chaos Shadow Verminasia Marauders ( IMM RP )

Subject The Path to Ruin: Reliquary (continued)


Through the maelstrom of ichor and bones he could see the silhouettes of
scarce robed figures knelt in penitence. Aligned in perfect unison along
the edge of a great rift. Their hunched forms chanting incoherently into
the vastness of the stygian expanse beyond. At their center lay a raised
slab of rock. A dais, atop which sat a throne hewn from the blackstone of
the cavern's veins.

Facing outward into the empty abyss, its occupant gazed into the imminent
void like the steward of some timeless curse. A silent overseer, unmoved by
the grim stage that was to his back. Transfixed upon the sprawling darkness
before him, as if it was his patient audience.

He stepped forward into the charnel menagerie. Ignoring the murderous
glances and threatening jeers as the fetid cultists parted way for his path.
As he approached the lithic figure upon the chair, he noted the lambent glow
that broke the darkness subtly. With each step forward his vision
articulated the wisping flames more clearly. They danced upwards and
downwards, with a senscient viscosity that seemed to swim and smoke.
Billowing from the front of the figure's skull. It cast a sickly
ochre-olive sheen over his dragonscale pauldrons, and the pale flesh of the
back of his bald scalp.

At the armored warrior's side he saw a grime ridden stone fashioned into a
plinth. The knight's arm was outstretched, the dragon metal fingers of his
gauntlet curled into a fist. Protruding from his grasp, the faint edges of
a contoured metal eyeplate shone in the dark. The linear runes carved
across its surface flickered with the reflection of the green and orange
firelight.

Approaching with a cautious reverence he spoke aloud, "We have the emissary.
We have Mavelle." The words seemed to hang in the air. It always unnerved
him to interrupt his master's reverie.

"Bring him to me." Iron and rasped words responded, his gaze unfaltering
towards the stygian dusk beyond.

"To here, my lord?" He questioned, few save those destined as an offering
were ever permitted to this place.

"Yes, let him see what his mistress hath wrought. It is time we are...
Reacquainted," he paused for a moment, as if watching some strand of fate
pass before him.

"Very well. What of Gogothath?"

"Spread what remains of the embers and close the gateway. Send forth the
supplicants on this task, see that they are branded before. Tell them their
sacrifice will take us closer to the undoing. Assure the Verminasian's
receive a victory and return the forsworn knights to our sanctum." His
extended arm drew forward from the pedestal, taking with it the shaped iron
in his grip.




Writer: Crelius

Date Sun Feb 26 00:19:47 2023

To All Chaos Shadow Verinasia Marauders ( IMM RP )

Subject The Path to Ruin: Reliquary (continued)


"Victory my lord? Surely the time has come to bleed the betrayers of
their hope. Our host is prepared to lay havoc upon the arrogant and
unsuspecting," He mustered the question with a brewing impatience. These
last years were spent meticulously sowing discord through subterfuge and
guile. Always behind the curtain of deceit. Patiently needling the strands
of societies to their will. Urging whole populaces towards the precipices
of revolt. Placing their agents within the coin purses and prayer books of
the noble and despondent alike.

During this time the knights had also arisen. It was they he aspired to.
Their thundered hooves feared by the mightiest, and their spears forged from
the marrow of the celestial. They would be the killers of kings and gods.
These patient methods his lord pursued seemed a waste of such potential.

As his protest left his lips he could hear his master's jaw clench audibly.
A strange thing, as the raucous fires and screams continued behind him,
their din had drowned out. As if he was compelled somehow, to hear only the
man in the throne. His ponderance turned to fear, as he saw his neck begin
to turn. The spired studs of his pauldron casting shadows across his
features from the fires behind them. Outlining his stone-like countenance
as his face contorted and his born eye glared upon him.

He glimpsed the wyrd-fire's source for a fleeting instant. The burning
eclipse of entropy's gift that parted the veil asunder. The wayfinding eye
for which his lord sought the path to the annihilator. Before it was
obscured again by the angle from which he looked upon him. Its odd eminence
sifting in and out of reality, the luminosity moving with a liquid animation
that lashed and whipped. It cast its strange glow upon the man's scarred
and scowled features.

"You are not in a position to advise me, Esquire. All that is required is
their attention. As ours must turn elsewhere. They will weep soon enough."
His words struck out with a vehement growl, before ending in a merciful
calm. He turned his neck back towards the vacant chasm before him. The
empyrean flames snuffing out in despair as he placed the metal plate upon
his right brow.

Shaken from the sight, he mustered his will and responded in turn,
"Elsewhere?"

"See that the preparations are made to raise another Nihilus gate. It is
time to rid ourselves of this distraction, this lucent flame. It begins
with Fort Ironclad." The knight spoke, standing from the void before the
throne and turning to face him.

"As you wish. I will collect the toll." Lowering his head, he gripped the
iron hilt of the sword at his side. His eyes caught the embossed shades of
the sigil upon its pommel. A scythe over a black sun. He took to his knee
as he was addressed.

"To survive the wyvern's sting is a rarity few ever know. Still, your
measure has yet to be codified. The one who delivered you to me has shed
his skin. His path now upon the very road we must traverse. There will be
more to this endeavor then herding the meek." Crelius spoke down to him,
his voice latticed with challenge and condemnation.

"For the gods undone," He uttered listlessly. The implications not lost
upon him. This trial would be unlike the others before.

"For the gods undone, Aghon," Crelius spoke.




Writer: Wyltte

Date Sun Feb 26 13:35:59 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Sun Feb 26 17:16:26 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Sun Feb 26 23:11:00 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Mon Feb 27 15:39:42 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Mon Feb 27 16:29:28 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Mon Feb 27 17:21:00 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Mon Feb 27 18:10:55 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Mon Feb 27 18:43:08 2023




Writer: Penelopina

Date Mon Feb 27 19:04:00 2023

To All Justice Immortals Taliena

Subject Heartbreak and Ice Cream



Sniffle.

Penelopina Starflower Sha'evlas scooped another spoonful of strawberry and
vanilla swirl onto her spoon and swallowed a mouthful of it, the sweet, cool
ice cream soothing her aching heart. She hadn't bothered to get properly
dressed or washed, she just sat in a shadowed corner of the establishment,
wearing a dark robe thrown over her dress, copper-red hair a tangled mess,
eyes puffy and red.

The bard in the corner of the Elegant Maple tavern continued to pluck at the
strings of his lyre, mournful lyrics filling the air. 'Love hurts...! '
Sighing, she scooped up another mouthful and shoveled it in. It was
delicious, of course, but she barely taste the sweet, cold confection.

She knew having a crush rarely worked out. She'd never even gotten a chance
to know the young man properly. Perhaps it had simply not meant to be.
Still, seeing him save a bug in a jar, over any attempt to catch her... It
had stung. It had stung something fierce. Like a white-hot lance right
through her heart. Tobryck beating her into a bloody pulp didn't hurt as
much. Piknim and Lavinah's mean words hadn't hurt as much. But this. This
had ached so badly she briefly wondered if even death would be a relief from
the pain.

Over on the stage, the bard continued another rendition of his sorrowful
song. Since it was mid-day, Penny was the only one in the Elegant Maple
common room, and she'd paid him well enough to play just that one song.
Over and over again. He briefly paused as this one came to an end, lifting
an eyebrow at her as if asking if she wanted something else, but she just
shrugged and tossed him another gold coin, and he just kept playing.
'Looooove huuuuurts...! '

Penny sighed as a fresh wave of sadness swept over her, leaving her eyes
moist with unshed tears, and let it wash over her like a tidal wave on the
ocean. The last time she had felt this bad was when her mother had died.

And just like then, when she was at her most darkest shade of blue, she
turned to the teachings of Taliena.

"While it may sometimes be painful, let your heart be open. Be courageous,
be generous, be humble. Love begins with you. "

The words were there, plain as day, and yet it was easier to read them than
to actually make the attempt. Leaving your heart open meant it was also
possible to get your heart hurt. That was the risk you took and the price
you paid.





Writer: Thuken

Date Mon Feb 27 20:29:24 2023




Writer: Maynj

Date Mon Feb 27 21:25:56 2023

To All Darkonin Raije Dragoth Drakkara Fatale Devion imm rp

Subject |Lesser Evil|


After a day or so of thinking and envisioning his dream of what Darkonin
should be a Idea came to mind. Maynj turned to his assass and said "Change
of plans... Go to the Fort tell them to Forget about Icrit we dont need
them if the Witch wants it let her have it... Go to Gruntz round up the
citizens there bring them to Fort Ghyt outfit them and train the able
bodied I want Fort Ghyt to be a Fort I want a twent foot wall built around
the Hollows with a archers platform and the front corners pickets placed
with half open slots and crossbows mounted on a swivel... The wall should
connect to the mountain and go around the outside perimeter of the hollows."
The assassin nodded writing as the King spoke the instructions so not to
forget anything. "Yes Sire, I will leave at once and return to you quickly"
Maynj nodded as the assassin left the room. Pacing back and forth thinking
of different drills he could run for the troops to see that they are battle
ready his bear watching on as his master paces.. The door flings open and
the bear popped to his feet showing teeth. Grar walked in stopping suddenly
at the sight of the bear. Maynj chuckled at the look on Grars face. "What
can I do for you Grar?"
Maynj asked "The supplies for Icrit are ready to
move out I will escort the goods to them."
Maynj replied "No you aren't
send the supplies to Fort Ghyt.. Icrit is no longer under our protection
They are loyal to the Witch she can provide for them.. Darkonin will not...
I am pulling the survivors from Gruntz back to the fort as well.. It is
time to focus on Mt. Darkonin and try and rebuild our ranks and I cant do
that with you running off to Icrit every week.
Nodding in agreement Grar
said "Aye Sire, I understand" he saluted the King and slowly backed out of
the room keeping a eye on the bear. Maynj plopped back down on the throne
exhausted from walking so many miles from one side of the throne room to the
other.. His spear never leaving his hand he looked up at the tip of it
remembering the feeling of it ripping flesh now it is a mere walking stick
and he remembered the days of being just a soldier and the joy of No
responsibility and it quickly leaves his mind every time he thinks of the
resurrection of Darkonin. He looked to the bear and said "I could have just
left it alone and let it happen and watch Darkonin remain in the state it
was in.... But I chose the lesser evil and stopped a problem that would
have surely ended my reign... Maybe it is time for me to produce a Heir to
the Throne so that the Iron Claw will live on throughout time..."
A
chuckle echoed through the quiet throne room as the King drifted off to
sleep.




Writer: Rauglothgar

Date Tue Feb 28 11:35:27 2023

To Shadow Verminasia Abaddon Bloodlust Black_Robes All ( Imm Drakkara Cayenna Xenophon )

Subject Disturbance In The Desert



In the heart of the vast and arid desert, Rauglothgar lay basking on a
smooth rock, its scales shimmering under the unrelenting sun. With its eyes
closed and its long snout pointed towards the sky, it appeared to be in a
deep slumber, undisturbed by the occasional gusts of wind that whipped sand
and dust across the barren landscape. As the hours passed, the dragon
remained motionless, save for the gentle rise and fall of its chest as it
breathed. Yet beneath the surface, a fierce heat simmered, ready to be
unleashed at a moment's notice should any unsuspecting prey come within
reach. For now, though, the sand dragon continued to soak up the warmth of
the desert, a master of its domain.

The dragon lifted its massive head, nostrils flaring as it caught a
tantalizing scent on the wind. Its keen senses honed in on the aroma of
prey, carried to it across the sand dunes on the hot desert breeze. As it
drew closer, the dragon could see a sole being, covered in standard issue
chainmail with the insignia of Storm Keep worn proudly to the chest.
Suitably bored, Rauglothgar returned to his rest.

The tired messenger trudged through the shifting sands, each step an arduous
struggle as exhaustion weighed heavy on their limbs. The scorching sun beat
down mercilessly, its unrelenting heat sapping what little energy remained
in their body. As they crested yet another sand dune, the messenger paused
to catch their breath, wiping the sweat from their brow and squinting into
the distance. In the far-off horizon, the hazy outline of a huge rock
loomed like a mirage, tantalizingly close yet impossibly far. But the
messenger had a duty to fulfill, a message to deliver that could not wait.
So, with a weary sigh, they pushed on, determination and willpower
propelling them forward through the endless sea of sand.

'Lord Brown... ' the dry, raspy voice of the exhausted messenger disturbing
the slumbering wyrm once more, a grunt of annoyance the only response. The
struggling messenger paused to empty their decanter, desperate to take the
final drops of refreshment before continuing.

'Lord Brown.. The village of Haon Daran has been attacked. '

A puff of hot sand blasts from the heated snout of the dragon, another
signal of his annoyance at being disturbed with such trivial information.
The messenger stalled, stuttering over their words, before the increasing
irritable dragon.

'Sir Kesepton sent me.. He said to tell you. It's Chaos. '

The sand dragon releases a grumble before lifting his hulking frame back to
his powerful limbs, before he gives acknowledgement to the messenger.
Rauglothgar pushes off from the basking rock and plunges into the ground,
disappearing beneath the shifting sands in a flurry of dust and sand. Its
powerful limbs propelling it forward, sending plumes of sand flying in all
directions until completely submerged.




Writer: Euterah

Date Tue Feb 28 17:59:30 2023

To All Darkonin Icewall Dragoth Zandreya IMM RP

Subject Wintering



It takes a careful eye to notice the beauty of ice caverns, the drifting
snow, a landscape of white on white, yet the Witch noted these changes. She
ensconced herself in a lofty cavern on the Mountain to observe. She was
dimly aware of rustling among the hanging, tapered pieces of ice formed by
the steady slow drip of freezing water. She clung to the knowledge that
water under ice was weary, it slowed, it did not stop its relentless gnawing
work on rock and earth. It was enlightening. Her Father was showing her
more of the Circle. The endless breaking and building that most would never
glean. The Witch took pains to be mindful.

She moved, walking through the twisting veins of the Mountain, bending down
through the cramped passages that led to the true heart of Darkonin. It was
marked by fae glee, a barely conceivable natural energy the Witch could feel
but not quite comprehend. Thank the Father for wild magic, she praised,
thank Zandreya. The crystal pillar, a massive geode within a cavern so
sprawling it could hold the entire of Darkonin proper, was a gift from the
gods that patroned the Mountain. Secreted far beneath where folk dared
tred, few new of its properties, far less its true nature. The Witch
wondered at the elemental discoveries yet to be made. She marveled the
majesty of created works.

She gathered a loose frost garnet, reflecting on the many resources. Since
the creation of the kingdom there had been mumurings of dwarves still held
in thrall the jewels found beneath. It was as if she held a stone
containing fireflies, such a myriad of colors highlighted by twisting her
wrist in the crackling ball of lightning she used with to see. She stopped,
listening to the heartbeat of the Mountain. The Witch held still in the
infrequent light.

This would not be a short game of wits.

Darkonin was far too important.

She settled, remaining and watchful, waiting yet wary.




Writer: Verzakh

Date Wed Mar 1 14:52:52 2023




Writer: Verzakh

Date Wed Mar 1 14:53:58 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Thu Mar 2 00:50:00 2023




Writer: Khelthrai

Date Thu Mar 2 12:37:24 2023

To Black_Robes Verminasia Abaddon Shadow Bloodlust Rauglothgar All - Imm Drakkara Cayenna Xenophon -

Subject Knowledge Is Power: Part 1


Deep in the heart of the Ivory Waste, in a dimly-lit chamber of obsidian
and bone, a dark elf necromancer sat hunched over a table. Before him lay a
pile of warp-touched flesh, the slick mass shifting in the dim light.
Khelthrai's eyes glinted with a feverish curiosity as he reached out to
touch it, his slender fingers trailing over the slick surface.

The flesh was unlike anything he had ever seen before, a strange and
unearthly substance that seemed to shift and writhe even as he studied it.
It was said to have been a remnant from an attack of an unknown creature
that had ravaged villages across the continents, and the necromancer had
been eager to get his hands on it ever since he received the wrapped
package.

He had already spent days examining it under his instruments, studying its
uniquely disgusting structure and the way it reacted to various stimuli.
But that was not enough. He hungered for knowledge, for a deeper
understanding of this bizarre substance that seemed to defy All known laws
of magic and science.

And so he had begun to experiment on it.

With delicate precision, the necromancer began to make incisions in the
flesh, his scalpel slicing smoothly through the slick surface. He watched
in fascination as the flesh began to knit itself back together almost
instantly, regenerating as fast as he could cut it.

He tried various spells and incantations on it, but nothing seemed to have
any effect. The flesh simply absorbed the magic and continued to pulse and
writhe beneath his fingertips.

Undeterred, the necromancer continued to probe and examine the warped flesh,
his obsession growing with each passing moment. He worked tirelessly,
barely sleeping or eating, lost in his quest for knowledge.




Writer: Penelopina

Date Fri Mar 3 11:20:42 2023

To All Shalonesti Justice Immortals Taliena

Subject A Growing Hope!



{pPenny didn't walk this path as much as she used to. From the Thalosian
public docks, All along the northern coast of Althainia, to where the
{pforest
parted and she was able to enter the Vallenwoods. She used to do it
regularly, both as a means of enjoying the cool, salty breeze of
{pthe ocean
and generally to avoid pests who were hanging around the clan bindstone.
But she still made an effort to visit this part of
{pShalonesti at least once
a month to check on how things were going. Usually, without much success.

{pToday, however...!

{pBirds took flight from their perches, roused from their stupor by a high
pitched squeal which seemed to pierce the forest. A cry of delight.

{pPenelopina Starflower Sha'aryas dropped to her knees in the earthy soil and
gazed in awe as she beheld the sight before her. There, growing
{pin the
ground, was a little tiny sprout. Her lemon tree seed, planted with the
blessings of Shalonesti and the Gods, was finally beginning
{pto grow!

{pShe immediately put her hands together and prayed. 'Blessed Taliena, thank
you so much for this gift. May it continue to grow and serve as a symbol of
hope and growth here in the Vallenwoods.
{p'

{pQuickly getting to work, Penny made sure the little sprout was getting
adequate sunlight, moisture, and had ample space to spread its
{proots. As
well as made sure no parasites would be able to harm it. She hummed to
herself as she worked, singing a little song for the
{pfuture lemon tree.

{p'Now you be sure to grow big and strong, little one, {p' she encouraged it.
'I can't wait to see you All grown up! {p'




Writer: Thuken

Date Fri Mar 3 19:43:02 2023




Writer: Wyltte

Date Sat Mar 4 04:28:52 2023

To All Shadow Verminasia Imm RP Religion Drakkara Admin Cayenna

Subject On the {nTrail
of the Troll (Part 1 of 75)


Wyltte had been extremely busy as of late, and had spent more time
capturing his adventures on parchment than he did going on them it seemed.
He had alread squeezed dry seven Octopi this month for ink.

He knew those who were stuck reading of his exploits were weary of his
words, ready for a break.

But Wyltte was of a dark heart, and knew he couldn't let his tyranical spree
of making the eyes of everyone bleed from parchment exposure fade. He
grabbed his quill and bottle of ink, neatly writing the title of a new
adventure on the top of the parchment for the world to see posted at every
message board, pub, and library across Algoron.

On the Trail of the Troll, Part 1 of 75. The sheer volume of tomes people
would expect to read would strike fear in the hearts of every reader.

Wyltte laughed to himself as he made enough copies to be spread across the
land. Anyone seeing the public listing would scream and curse at the sky,
death by a million paper cuts.

This title would bring as much anxiety to some as crossing a bridge in the
Blackwoods where actual trolls lived.

"Trolling" he though to himself. "An interesting term for writing something
to deliberately trying to upset others for your own amusment"
he bemused.
"Wonder if it will ever catch on."




Writer: Piknim

Date Sat Mar 4 11:02:40 2023




Writer: Piknim

Date Sat Mar 4 11:28:41 2023




Writer: Piknim

Date Sat Mar 4 11:43:50 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Sun Mar 5 02:29:14 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Sun Mar 5 02:46:22 2023




Writer: Lavinah

Date Sun Mar 5 12:23:55 2023

To All ( piknim immortal dragoth drakkara religion )

Subject Moonblooms I



To those who knew her well, she spoke in three tones - her normal, flat
analytical voice, almost detached meter was nearly ever present. Rarely,
slight intonations would hint at her fury or, even more uncommon, her joy.

In speaking with Pinkim about there potentially being moonblooms in the
Vallens, she was nearly giddy.

There was some consternation about the flowers there, that they were
corrupted to the light and blooming towards pure white. In a different day,
a different mindset, she would have cared more. There were plenty involved
already, and she would keep her distance. But the rarity of an annual -
specifically flowers that had not bloomed elesewhere on Algoron - intrigued
her.

Past intrigued. Captivated. Moonblooms were full of power, full of
potential and she was fortunate that the masses where focusing on other
concerns in the Vallens, it would make collecting the samples she wished
that much easier.

Of course, her lineage made her entry to the Vallens near impossible. And
while she could certainly ask the Queen for a sample, what she planned
required full accuracy. She had to know that the petals were moonblooms,
for certain - she needed aide of someone who would view the task with the
same passion she had.

She needed the kender. And it pleased her, how often Piknim proved to be
the solution to a block in her schemes. She was detailed, precise, knowing
how easily distracted and overly zealous the kenderkin could be.

There was a lot of work ahead - she spoke briefly of the ritual that was
required to properly work the moonblooms for this task. A slight grin
crossed her lips with the thought of succeess and what it would bring.

The kenderkin, as usual, was All too eager to aide. Exploitable, that one,
but she believed this would result in something Piknim would very much
enjoy.




Writer: Aeshtyn

Date Sun Mar 5 23:49:55 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Mar 6 00:35:34 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Mar 6 00:45:07 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Mar 6 00:49:25 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Mar 6 00:51:30 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Mar 6 00:53:59 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Mon Mar 6 22:38:53 2023




Writer: Andreyna

Date Tue Mar 7 13:27:05 2023

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Zandreya Imm Rp Religion Xenophon

Subject The White Lights: Leading the Lights


Andreyna sat before the purified shrubs, grass, and trees that now grew
where the oily substance of the Warp's contamination once seeped. The elves
had discovered the Mother's presence was drained here- a spot where Erebaal
had constructed one of his cursed altars. Andreyna had held the Warp's
crystal within her hand, it warmed and glowed as the group of elves
approached the area. The Speaker of the Moons began digging, soon the black
oily substance began to seep forth.

The elves immediately covered their noses, gagging by the repulsive stench
that came forth. Andreyna's mind immediately flashed back to her visions of
the Warp's World. She recognized the smell at once. There was nothing else
like it in All the world. It was far worse than anything Dragoth could ever
conjure with his Rot and Decay. It was the decay of Zandreya's absence.

This had to be it. This was most certainly one of the areas in which the
Mother's presence was drained. The Speakers were powerless of the Eldritch
powers here, no blessing of the Mother could be found. The ichor came
quickly, pouring up from the ground, threatening to spread across the lands.
In a panic, Andreyna instructed the elves to pluck some of the white shades
of grass that grew there and throw them into the oil.

The grass landed within the ichor and absorbed it, purifying it before there
eyes. A commotion came from behind the elves, they turned to look and
spotted the rivers of light coming forth from the northern gates. They were
searching- searching for the filth of the ichor that spewed from the soil,
searching for their enemy.

The ichor continued to spew forth, the elves not able to distribute enough
grass into oily mess to control it, they allowed the lights to come. The
river of pristine light shown brightly before them as it flowed forth,
quickly overcoming the ichor, covering it with its pristine sheen. The
ichor was no more.

There were several other areas that were drained of the Mother's presence,
several other areas in which Erebaal had contaminated the lands in his quest
to destroy Zandreya. However, the elves had decided to stop here. There
was much to discuss. The area needed to be watched. What was to come now
that they allowed the lights to do their work? Here it was, the end result-
shrubs, trees, and grasses of the Light. What were they to do with it now?
Would Zandreya accept them as Her own? Could Her presence be restored?

Andreyna shook her head and laughed in disbelief. In one night, the elves
had shown more control over the lights then the Light ever had. They had
zero control of them. However, the elves had discovered that when presented
with an enemy, the lights could be led, they would follow their foe wherever
it may be. Perhaps this would be of some use in the future.

She had shared this information with Geirhart. She had been on the fence
about doing so. She hoped he did not use it against the Darkness. She had
known Geirhart for many years now. He was a man who did not care for war.
He did not care for destruction. It pained him to see suffering. She hoped
he would use the information to gain control of the lights before they
destroyed the world.




Writer: Kaerick

Date Tue Mar 7 14:33:25 2023

To All Piknim Shadow Verminasia Drakkara Imm Religion Tritoch Crelius

Subject Gogothath Campaign: Inquisition ( Part Seven )



"{uInquisitor,

I have received your report and will warn you that Cheddyr village was the
sight of a fel troll, some sort of old monster that laired outside. It's
been killed three times before! There is a ruined tower near the entrance
to it's cave lair. If you do have to return, be careful as I still have the
troll's head as a souvenir. It was a might fearsome beast. Capture who you
can for questioning. The Dark Goddess be with you!

Signed,

Advisor Piknim Cracklespark.

PS: If you find anything interesting, let me know! Wish I could join you!
"

Kaerick crumpled up the note and tossed it onto the ground.

'Bad news, sir? ' asked Gorren with a hint of concern.

'Of a sort, Captain. There was a sighting of a fel troll outside Cheddyr
that was slain. It seems our Ebon Hand friend may also be nearby. I need
only the best of our troops when we get to the cave and tower. My guess is,
Yegraine would not demean herself with a cave. I believe this is our first
primary threat. If she has gone mad, there is no idea what she has
concocted.
' explained Kaerick.

'Of Course, sir. A fel troll? We haven't had a sighting of one of this in
ages.
' mulled the Captain.

'Hmm, have our scouts march ahead of us double time. I want them to look
for any tracks leading to or from that location. I need to know how many
allies Yegraine may have with her. We'll stop in the village to discuss our
plans once I have that information. You are dismissed, Captain.
' ordered
the Inquisitor.

Gorren saluted and exited the tent.

Kaerick decided it was best to consult his spells and see what would be
advantageous against his enemy.

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

'One stitch here and one stitch there, that's how we sew up your nightmare!
Oh my beautiful Lashkul, what have they done to you? Taken your head!
That's alright, we'll get you a new one. The True God provides.. One
flesh, two flesh, three flesh, four. This is how we make a horror! Oh
well, not my best deary but neither will you be. They say my God is gone
but I hear Him still even if the Song has changed. Oh Crelius, when will
you return and see how much fun I am having?

So... *HACK*.... Much... *SLOP*..... Fun... *SNIP*.
'

Somewhere, deep in a forest, only the birds heard the chanting and from deep
within a cave, the guttural roar.





Writer: Perpugilliam

Date Tue Mar 7 16:23:14 2023




Writer: Aeshtyn

Date Tue Mar 7 21:16:38 2023




Writer: Aeshtyn

Date Tue Mar 7 21:27:47 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Tue Mar 7 21:27:53 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Tue Mar 7 21:29:35 2023




Writer: Piknim

Date Wed Mar 8 16:58:41 2023




Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Mar 8 17:17:04 2023




Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Mar 8 17:25:09 2023




Writer: Aeshtyn
Date Wed Mar 8 19:53:53 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Thu Mar 9 02:38:21 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Thu Mar 9 02:46:49 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Thu Mar 9 02:53:17 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Thu Mar 9 03:02:58 2023




Writer: Piknim
Date Thu Mar 9 10:42:01 2023




Writer: Piknim
Date Thu Mar 9 10:42:08 2023




Writer: Piknim
Date Thu Mar 9 10:42:18 2023




Writer: Flynoal
Date Fri Mar 10 22:58:47 2023

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm RP

Subject Like Sands Through the Hourglass...



As fine as the floors were here in his mental prison, he felt like he was
going to wear them thin.

He paced. He sat. He paced. He laid down. And yes, he paced some more.
While he was not technically "confined", he mind knew he could not leave.
The risk was too great, even if he would eventually have to burn the
Speaker's home down to the ground to ensure its.... Purity? Sanctity?
Whatever, so long as the cure was found then All would be well. But until
then, the only thing he could protect was everyone else, from himself.

He'd gone over his journal entries out of boredom, reminiscing on some of
the earliest House tasks he'd been given, and smiling a bit at his naivety
but also the pride in even his early work. Far from perfect, but nice to
see the journey that unfolded before him, turning him into the person he was
today.

He just hoped he had a future...

He glanced down at his arm again, daring not to touch it, and just frowning
instead. He would turn it this way and that in the glow of the afternoon
sun, peering at the dark... Whatever it was, under his skin. As if a
puzzle he could solve just by staring at it. But instead it would just seem
to itch more when he gave it any attention at all.

He stood up suddenly, emitting a low growl... And started pacing again.




Writer: Milleuda
Date Sat Mar 11 00:17:36 2023




Writer: Perpugilliam
Date Sat Mar 11 18:28:01 2023

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Zandreya IMM RP

Subject Reflections



There was slime. There was mold. There was fungus. Perpugilliam could
delineate each division. She understood each to have some relation and yet
there was difference which she could not precisely point out. She felt a
growing concern in regards to this. As if she would need to understand the
place where science and spirituality came together to work out this problem.
The dilemma was growing fast. The half-elf could not understand what was
the cause. The corruption was evident. The warp showed themselves yet in
power. They were in opposition of the Light.

She paced the ground before the waterfall. The poppy had failed to grow.
She wondered if it had been the interference of the Raven or if it was just
not a powerful enough article of worship. The mounting questions circled in
her head, solutions seemed few and far between. She could only report on
what she saw, the cross roads stain, Althainia's stain. She worried over
this and her friend, Flynoal was bitten by the slime creature. What would
happen to him if the slime overtook him as it did the dogs and cats and
ducks? Perpugilliam placed her hands over her face, seeming to dispair.
What would become of All this?

She corrected herself before becoming meloncholic. She knew better than to
wallow in distress. She wiped her eyes and inhaled deeply. She could pray.
She could give thanks. Perpugilliam stretched weary limbs to the sky,
beseeching Zandreya for guidance, for the strength to continue. The sound
of the water calmed her, the course of river over fall over rock found her
and she centered herself. Nature was a foundation, she stood stolidly. It
was ever changing and she accepted this. It was renewing and developing.
Zandreya would not forsake the elves. Perpugilliam sat then in the dirt,
the light glimmering around her.

The lightscar, they called it. The half elf dug into the dirt there,
finding no more of the black ichor. She turned the ground with her fingers,
plowing a little field with her hand. There was something in the dirt that
she found promising.




Writer: Daizi
Date Mon Mar 13 12:35:34 2023

To Shadow All ( IMM Cayenna RP )

Subject Finding a needle in a book stack



The library was huge, with endless hallways and doors in every direction.
Supplicant Daizi and the shadow magister spent countless hours walking in
circles. They would open doors just to find more doors, or worse, a library
golem.

"This is endless. I am going to lose myself here," complained Daizi as he
turned to open another door. But, this time instead of another hallway, this
door opened up to a room lined with shelves of books and old tomes.

The group made their way to the Natural History section, exactly what they
were looking for. The magister sprang into action, looking over the shelves.
But, the second he touched the books, alarms suddenly started to blare.

"Keep watch, Supplicant," commanded the magister. Daizi quickly moved to the
door with his bo staff in hand. He could hear rumbling from the other side as
the library golems began to activate.

Daizi turned to the magister, "We need to hurry."

The magister combed the books, searching for references of ancient beasts. He
pulled down a tome from the Primordial History section and began to skim it.
Daizi near the door could hear the golems closing in on their location.

"Ax. Ay... No... Aza... Azd.. Azh.. No no.." mumbled the magister as he quickly
turned the pages of the tome. With a smile, he said, "AZI! Here we are!" The
magister had found a reference to Azi Dahaka, the All-Devouring.

But, soon as their spirits were raised, their hearts dropped as a sudden loud
pounding could be heard on the door. The golems slammed against the library
doors making them splinter. The magister exclaimed, "We need to GO!" But, there
was no time to read the page. They came too far to leave empty-handed. So, the
magister tore the page from the tome and handed it to Daizi. The Supplicant
quickly pocketed the paper and stepped through a portal narrowly making an
escape.

Now safely in the keep, the pair could relax. The shadow magister had lost a
finger to a previous encounter with the golems. As Daizi read over the torn page,
the magister finally could tend to his wounds. Daizi stated, "I hope the
information was worth your sacrifice. We must do what we can to cure the Dark Lord."

The shadow magister replied, "I'll leave you to it, then. I need to... go wrap
my hand up, before the thumb and forefinger go and I'm left with a lump."




Writer: Z'szytheis

Date Mon Mar 13 13:03:35 2023

To All Marauders Abaddon Skoden Z'quarus ( IMM RP RELIGION RAIJE )

Subject The Cleansing (I)



There was Z'szytheis lying on the sands and basking in the sun. The
barren crossroads wherein he participated in multiple battles was not too
far away from where he was. He reminisced of the constant clashing of
weapons. A good past time for him as he awaited word from the Count Bishop
of Abaddon. Days past by, which felt like years. The bakali grew impatient
but he knew the task at hand was not something to be done in haste.

He laid there waiting as patiently as he could. The sands trickling down on
his now brittle scales. From the distance the sound of footsteps and hooves
can be heard. "Eh, another passerby.. " grumbled the bakali. A loud and
somewhat frightened yell, "Acolyte Z-Z'szytheis!? I'm told you frequent
h-here and that I would find you to deliver a message from the Count!
"
Z'szytheis smirked at the yell, he had changed his ways and no longer as
viscious as he was before. There was nothing to fear. He was no longer the
Butcher. He rose from the sand dune, "Aye, I am here. Present yourself.
"

The hooded figure slowly walked up towards the bakali, handing a scroll
sealed with what looked to be blood. "From the Count himself, Acolyte. "
Z'szytheis unravelled the scroll and began to read. He nodded, lifted up
his head and said, "Well done, Count Bishop.. Send him my respect for the
lives lost in the process. We are ready to receive it and begin the next
step.
" The messenger nodded in return, "I will pass it along. " as he
quickly disappeared into the night.

Confused, Z'szytheis had thought he heard a horse of some sort. He scoured
the area and noticed a pool of blood seeping into the sands. "A...
Midnight snack perhaps.
" chuckling. He made his way to the Temple of
Rage, awaiting the Count Bishop.




Writer: Twinter

Date Mon Mar 13 13:09:31 2023

To Marauders ( Imm rp Whiskey Cayenna Admin Scorn All )

Subject Wistfull Thoughts - A Kender's Dream



Twinter could see the towers in the distance from Arkane, though just
barely. Sitting on the ramparts of Arkanes eastern wall, he remembered what
hed seen just a few hour earlier. The Fort of Ironclad was nothing like the
walled city of Arkane. The soldiers there were giants, each ones armor
immaculate, and matching! Even with the symbols of the Everwar painted on
the walls and halls, which the Highlord had insisted was from the last
Highlord, it was a thing of beauty. He almost enlisted right then, but
seems his folk were notorious for making lousy soldiers. Which, in reality,
if he really thought about it, they were right. Kenderkin never did
anything for very long. They were like butterflies, flittering here, then
there, then up and gone again. Twinter wasnt any different than any of his
people, even before the city of his ancestors fell.

Could he be a soldier? Could he be in the Army, rage war on the enemies of
the Fort? Following orders was easy, do what youre told and you get shiny
things: Gold, gems, and glory. He liked that idea. He liked taking Chaos
out to the woodshed for a good switching too! All in love of course.
Sometimes love hurt. Sometimes you had to do things for other people
because you love them even if it was painful. Sitting up, he decided, one
day, he would be a soldier of the Fort. One day, he would be a Marauder.




Writer: Symantha

Date Mon Mar 13 16:32:20 2023




Writer: Z'szytheis

Date Mon Mar 13 16:57:15 2023

To All Marauders Abaddon Skoden Z'quarus ( IMM RP RELIGION RAIJE )

Subject The Cleansing (II)



As he stepped foot within the Temple of Rage, he made his way towards the
inner sanctum where he sat in silence by the altar. Fascinated with the
jewels melded into the altar beautifully, he runs his hand upon it.
"Acolyte, I've come with the dreamcatchers, it was not an easy task. " The
voice echoed within the sanctum. The Count Bishop appearing behind the
Acolyte. Z'szytheis turns his head slowly, "My respects to the Obsidian
Order, Count Bishop. I assure you that the lives lost will not be in vain.
"

Z'quarus nods at Z'szytheis handing him a bag. "They are All there and are
to be place within the sleeping quarters of your soldiers.
" The
dreamcatcher, adorned with various symbols. One symbol that intrigued
Z'szytheis most was the insignia of the Marauders overlaid by that of Raije.
A grin came about the bakali's face. "May Raije be pleased. " The work was
certainly not made in haste considering the intricacies of the item.
Tremendous amount of webbings can be seen, as if the makers kept the spiders
alive to command it to crisscross and twist it's webs. The bark from the
branches removed and sanded down giving it a slight sheen to it. It formed
the circular frame of the dreamcatcher.

"Impressive, Count Bishop. I will make certain these will be hung at their
respective places. Many thanks.
"




Writer: Geirhart

Date Mon Mar 13 18:20:24 2023

To Althainia Arkane Knighthood Wargar Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Justice Rahma Timmel Imm Religion Xenophon Derigimus Whiskey ( All )

Subject Raise the Stone: Exploration of the Fields I



*Clunk*

*Clunk*

Geirhart wiped his brow. The sun over Arkane beat down upon him with only
the shade of a straw hat keeping his bald head from burning. His shovel
prodded and poked into the ground. He had been in the fields for some time
looking for some tell tale sign of oddity. Nothing seemed out of sorts
outside of the crystal beings who flittered and roamed the land.

*Buzz*

*Buzz*

The old priest waved at his ear to shoo away the pesky crystal bug that flew
near his head. However that did little to disuade the crystaline dragonfly.
Sighing, Geirhart moved on to another part of the field to put some distance
from the sound. Small rocks poked out from the ground but nothing large and
nothing crystaline. No holes or crevasses to explore.

*Buzz*

'What do you want you red oversized mosquito! ' exclaimed the old man,
exasperated beyond measure.

The dragonfly dipped and dived then headed east a bit. It paused then came
back. It dipped and dived again then traveled east a second time.

'You want me to follow you? ' asked the priest not truly expecting a reply.
However he followed the dragonfly through the grass.

The dragonfly lead Geirhart to a small mound with some small boulders around
it. It flew in circles around the mound and then stopped.

Shrugging, Geirhart began to dig and soon crystal shards poked through the
dirt. Indeed it seemed he had found... Something.




Writer: Aurielle

Date Mon Mar 13 22:33:40 2023

To All ( IMM RP Conclave Musen )

Subject Boil & Bubble



"Double, double, toil and trouble!"

The figure stood hunched o'er top a large cauldron, the hood of her
crimson robe pulled up to obscure her face and hair. In front of her, a
sickly looking fluid baked and bubbled away, oozing black as pitch and
thick as tar.

"Fire burn and cauldron bubble!"

There was no denying that she was here by force. A gamble had been
taken, and a chance was lost - but the figure did not resent the path
followed. A bet had been made and she had lost, as simple as that. Thus,
her path was set, bound by her word and honor. And as for those that had
trapped her? Well. She eyed the cauldron before her, smiling wickedly.
They would get -exactly- what they deserved.

"Spice of fried cacao paste, in the cauldron, boil and bake!"

A delicate hand fell to the pouches at her side, drawing out more
ingredients one by one. With care she added each, making certain to stir
and reduce. Reduce and stir. The bubbling liquid continuing to burble
away happily, unaware of just what purpose it would be put to.

"Eye of Mallow, and pinch of Chicory's root,"

She worked dilligently. Carefully, especially for one with a heritage
such as her own. The risks of rushing were great; the chance of being
interrupted sickeningly present. With the beasts that ran rampant here,
she likely wouldn't even be aware of their approach, until it was too
late. But perfection took patience, and patience was a skill hard earned.

"Sap of Maple, and well-aged Sucrose! Feast of Bees with nary a sting!"

The mage she had fought was clever. Appearing old and feeble and half
out of his mind, she was certain that she had a shot against him. Only
to be outwitted at every turn, the true extent of her frustrations and
feebleness laid bare before her, in the most unseemly and irritating of
manners. A hundred eggs - enough for a proper little place, out in that
sweet woodland village, with cozy room to spare. Beyond her reach, now.

"Caramel Egg and Cinnamon Zing!"

Even still, Aurielle couldn't deny that such power and competency had
its allure. Even as she stirred her strange brew, adding adjustments
here and there, sending its wicked scent throughout the commons, the
kender knew that she would need to study. Would need to learn everything
she could, and study it fast. Who knew how long they would allow one
such as herself to stain their halls, lost bet or not.

"For a charm of powerful trouble! Like a hell-broth,"

123456789012345678901234567890123456789012345678901234567890123456789012
Aurielle laid down the large wooden spoon with care, her eyes on the
cauldron, and its bubbling, burbling brew of black and brown, still
speckled with melting patches of creamy white.

"BOIL. AND. BUBBLE!"

There. It was done.

They would get -exactly- what they deserved.

-Exactly-. What. They. Deserved.





Writer: Carrionmaw

Date Wed Mar 15 00:18:26 2023

To Shadow Verminasia Abaddon Black_Robes All ( Imm Drakkara Cayenna Xenophon Tritoch )

Subject The Tide Rises - {uNight's Peace II



'{uPowerful knowledge in undeserving hands leveled empires without thought
{uor mercy. The Dark Queen has no desire to revisit those chaotic times.
'
-oOo-

The vessel was a delicate thing spun from moonlight and instilled with a
touch of the umbra by the Queen's grace. Born of the dark creation from
deep within the Rip, the argyr substance tilted on its axis as the motes
confined within danced a slow, never ceasing tumble through the distant
plane. The recipients were unworthy, he mused, but he knew better than to
question. In time, the Rip would reclaim what went unappreciated in its own
way.

The keen edge to his senses detected a stir in the air and the tell-tale
chittering of implike creatures in the chamber above. A spiderweb of
lightscale cracked and broke upon the crimson expanse of the beast's chest
as he rose, the pain a reminder that like the god who levied this curse upon
him, Carrionmaw too had vengeance left to claim.

Shifting his gaze to the pit below, he could not deny the fissure had only
grown deeper as the interior of the mountain had cooled and the black wind
that once coursed far below had stilled. There are cracks in the world
riven wider than ever before from the Dark Queen's ascension that made the
Reliquary seem insignificant. So many souls went beyond that black horizon
and so few endured.

But when the winds can be stirred and the sky torn asunder from Her very
utterance who is to doubt but fools?




Writer: Penelopina

Date Wed Mar 15 09:32:34 2023

To All Justice Immortals Taliena

Subject Still Yet More Crystals!


{pPenny sighed, lifting an arm and brushing it against her forehead, wiping
the sweat there as she took a moment to
{pcatch her breath. Winter seemed
determine to linger in this region of the world, the winds still blew cold,
and yet
{pshe was still sweating thanks to her exertions and the noon day sun
high overhead.

{p'I could use a drink, {p' she realized, and jammed her shovel into the ground
to plant it, making her way back through
{pthe blue fields of crystal towards
the well at the top of the hill. Seems someone had already brought up the
bucket and,
{poh thank Taliena, it still had fresh water in it. She cupped a
little, splashed it on her face, and then greedily drank
{psome more from a
cup nearby. She then lowered it back down into the well, re-filled it, and
pulled it right back up.

{pResting a hand on her forehead, Penelopina Starflower Sha'aryas took stock
of the situation, peering out across the myriad
{pfields of beautiful, bright
red{p, yellow{p, green{p, and blue crystals{p.

{pIt was beautiful in a wild sort of way. Seeing the myriad strange animals
romping through the fields. Listening to the
{pbreeze as it wafted through
the tall crystal grasses. And there was definitely some sort of primordial
power here. She'd
{phad great success with her enchanted bracers and the wind
chimes made from Mystic crystals, and she was sure she had only
{pscratched
the surface there.

{pSo, checking the suns position in the sky, she estimated she had perhaps
another four or five hours before dark. She
{ptrudged back down the hill to
her shovel, tugged it out of the ground, and started digging again. Trying
to find the
{plarger geodes and anything else she could find, like that silver
vein they had uncovered during the last expedition.

{pThere was a lot of untapped potential here. She just needed to dig a little
deeper.





Writer: Andreyna

Date Wed Mar 15 12:28:05 2023

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Zandreya Imm Rp Religion Xenophon

Subject The White Lights- The Mother's Blessings


The elves had made more progress, and this time, the lights were kept at
bay. The Mother's river was poured upon the corrupted soil near the
waterfall. The ichor of the Warp's decay unable to withstand the blessings
of Nature. However, it was not enough. The lights kept advancing upon the
filth. The Speaker of the Moon's took a dagger, and without a moments
hesitation, she drug it across her palm- dripping blood of the purest of
Zandreya's children upon the soil.

The lights retreated for a moment, the blood of the Shalonost pushing it
back momentarily, but they soon began trying to slink forth once more, the
alabaster river still searching for the taint within the soil. Andreyna dug
into her bags searching for something of the Mother to place within the
soil. She found it. A poppy. A gift from the Mother Herself. This had to
work- the Mother's river, the blood of a Shalonost, and the Mother's poppy
gifted to the elves.

Peri dug a small hole and the elfqueen gently placed the flower within it,
packing the soil loosely around it. They spoke prayers and blessings to the
Mother in hopes of reminding Her of the Vallens love for Her, their need for
Her, Her need to return home to Her Chosen.

The small poppy took root, the small flower blooming forth before them. The
lights stopped in their path. Their path search blocked by the Mother's
blessings, the taint within the soil no more. The Bishop let out a sigh of
relief. They were able to restore the Mother's blessings without allowing
the lights to overcome the Warp's infiltration.

They now had a path. The end was in sight. They would erect shrines,
altars, and plant gardens in the name of Zandreya. They would cleanse the
Mother's lands by Her. The curse would be cured, the Mother would return,
and the lights would retreat. The Mother's Holy Lands would return to Her-
not the Warp, not the Light.





Writer: Andreyna

Date Wed Mar 15 16:33:57 2023

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Shadow Symantha Zandreya Imm Rp Religion Xenophon Drakkara

Subject The White Lights- The Treant



The elfqueen carried a pitcher of water from the Mother's river, droplets
sloshing over the sides. She poured it gently over the soil of the treant,
soil recently refreshed with blackened moondust from the Rip. She was glad
to see that the Shadow Knights still brought the dust regularly to ensure
the treants growth.

Emptying the pitcher, Andreyna sat down near the tree, a soft sigh escaping
her lips. The tree now glimmered with the touch of the White Moon,
Lindanilis' leaf magically attached to it. Though her thoughts had mainly
focused on the lights, this still brought concern to her.

Charredalder was a treant of the shade. Now, he was a treant of the White
Moon, though the amethyst crystals still encompassed his roots. One of the
Mother's lessons was that Her Children were gifted with consciousness. They
were aware of their being. They were able to make their own decisions.
Though he was currently a sapling, Charredalder had been one of those
children. He was conscious. He as capable of making his own decisions.
Yet, he was not given the opportunity to decide if he wished to be of the
Light.

This troubled the Bishop. Had the treant been insulted? The Knights of
Storm certainly had been. When the lights were finally cleared of the
Vallens, what would they do next? What would happen with the treant? Would
the Chancellor be willing to attach her own leaf? If so, would it at least
bring the treant to the Balance? Would Charredalder even want that?
Perhaps there was a way to bring him back to the Darkness? Could the leaf
be removed? So many questions and no answers.




Writer: Euterah

Date Wed Mar 15 17:34:23 2023

To All Darkonin Dragoth Zandreya IMM RP

Subject The Stain



The Crossroads were limnal spaces. Small magics, hedge magics gave some
knowledge of these that are neither for anyone but yet for everyone. The
Witch withdrew from the stained crossroads and with a summon of ability went
back to the Mountain's pillar, to her cauldron. She stood over the boiling
brew, took up the long wooden stick and stirred. Her thoughts were bubbling
as her cauldron. The stain conflicted over the land, something beyond was
penetrating the here and now. The Witch felt as if the moments were going
to be close and fast.

Crossroads magic was particular at best, a bit of fortune of the gods, some
called forth imaginings from beyond, a form of spellcraft that would either
yield or not. The Witch thought of this as she drew the stick from the
cauldron. Looking at the jars behind her makeshift dwelling, she bent
gathering one of the recent additions into her hands. The kenderkin was
resourceful, the Witch did not trust her anymore. She shook the jar,
watching the slow revolution of the contents. She reflected as her dark
brackish gaze turned discerning the world's continued evolution.

An elemental flicker caught her attention then and she turned toward the
pillar. The Witch smiled briefly, movement within the Mountain. She looked
to the jar in her hands and cast it into the cauldron, giving her energies
to the gods that would hear, the gods that had eyes to see. The wild magic
she would worship as she brewed. A thought occured that if gods gave birth
to such forms of intrusion into this plane, then remedy within this realm
was to be found.

The Witch took up her stick again, concentrated on the elemental power of
the Mountain and stirred. Perhaps the Father of her people wished this
space open, she would not limit Him.




Writer: Maynj

Date Wed Mar 15 18:08:19 2023

To All Darkonin Raije Dragoth Drakkara Fatale Devion Imm rp

Subject A Spiritwalk



After discovering the slime had made it through the icy climate to
Darkonin Maynj gathered samples for the Cabal and the Juju Tower to study as
well as corpses. One thing still puzzled him... "Is this divine?" He
knew there was only one way to figure it out a "A spiritwalk is needed!"
He lit out for the Throne room where his guards sit gathering trinkets and
shrunken heads and different items he needed for the ceremony. He went to
the center of the Throne room and placed stones in a circle and placed all
the items he gathered in the center. He covered himself in ceremonial war
paint and began a chant. After a short time the items started shaking and
smoking. Maynj sat on the floor covering himself in the smoke and breathing
it in and blowing it out. After several times of him doing the his spirit
started trying to separate from his body. His chant got louder and louder
and finally his body changed to a lifeless gray. Next he realized he was
standing looking over his lifeless body lookinf down at it. "If this slime
is divine It will emitt a aura in the spirit world"
he said to himself.
Walking out of the Throne Room he locked the door behind him and took off
down the tunnels. Coming up on the slime he noticed it still looked the
same but it had a slight glow to it around the outside edges of the puddle.
He stood looking at it wondering if the spirits of the fallen of Darkonin
might have noticed anything. It was of both worlds live and fallen noticed
it and walked around the puddle so he figured it has a mixture of Divine and
magical properties. He went to the storage facility where he had left the
infected corpses noticing their spirits still have not escaped as if the
slime consumed them or working as a shield that will not let the spirit
fully escape the body. He walked about for a bit longer asking fallen
spirits if they have seen anything of this nature most of them shaking their
head and going about their buisness. After a long walk and thinking and
asking none knew the answer. Maynj decided it was time to revert back to
his body and try and find answers elsewhere.




Writer: Z'szytheis

Date Wed Mar 15 18:39:36 2023

To All Marauders Abaddon Skoden Z'quarus ( IMM RP RELIGION RAIJE )

Subject The Cleansing (III)



Standing before the gates of the Fort Ironclad, Z'szytheis readily opens
the bag and takes a look in it. "Open the gates, Gateguards! " The loud
creeking of the iron gates echoed into the forest. The bakali slowly
approached the entrance, hands clenched tightly onto the bag. He then
stops, "I have high hopes that this might just be what is needed to finally
battle and lift this curse placed upon our Fortress.. Our land.
" The gate
guards yell down to Z'szytheis, "Acolyte, enter lest the gates crush you!

Stepping foot within the Fortress, Z'szytheis approaches the Commander of
the guards, "Commander, gather our army. We meet at Hammurabi Square, I've
a message to deliver.
" The Commander puzzled, "... All of them? Relieve
them from their post and leaving us vulnerable?
" The scaled humanoid
turned to the man clad in full red platemail, "It will only take a few
minutes and I'm quite certain that none would attempt such idiocy. The
message I am about to deliver to our Army is of utmost importance, it's in
regards to this..
" As he scrapes the taint on the wall with a large
polearm bearing a symbol of War, "Ungodly symbols. "

The Commander nodded slowly, Understood, Acolyte. " The shopkeepers
clamored as the commander gathered the soldiers, magi, and fellow acolytes.
"You heard about the gathering at Hammurabi Square? Let's go and pay an ear
to what the Acolyte has to say.
" Men, women, children gathered around the
square, talking amonst themselves. The soldiers with hands place on the
hilts of their weapons remaining aware of their surroundings. The acolytes
and magi, sitting patiently while awaiting the reason for the temporary
withdrawal from their duties.

Z'szytheis looks around, pleased with the results. He nods at the men and
women gathered as he walks toward the center of the square. He slams his
polearm into a crack on the ground, exposing the symbol of War. "Hail,
Ironclad!
" The chattering stops as they move closer to listen to the
Acolyte.

"I was entrusted by our Highlord of a task that will assist us in battling
the curse placed upon us and our Fortress. No longer will our past haunt
our present and our future!
" Z'szytheis opens the bag, presenting a single
dreamcatcher. "A dreamcatcher, made from the resources our land offers.
Embedded within it, magic, which the Obsidian Order has worked patiently on
and have suffered losses due to it.
" Murmuring can be heard within the
crowd. "These are meant to capture our dreams and harness our intent. They
will be placed within our barracks, study halls, temples and in our
residences." The bakali points to the symbol of War on his polearm. "War
within our walls continue and we will overcome this. Prepare your heart,
mind and soul. Do not waver and remain firm, Ironclad. The cleansing has
begun.
"




Writer: Z'szytheis

Date Wed Mar 15 19:56:34 2023

To All Marauders Abaddon Skoden Z'quarus ( IMM RP RELIGION RAIJE )

Subject The Cleansing (IV) - Ending



The crowd roared, "Ironclad! Ironclad! IRONCLAD! " Z'szytheis let out
a grin and nodded to the Commander, "They may return to their posts,
Commander. Thank you.
" The men, women and children remained as the guards
returned to their posts. The acolytes and magi retreated to their study and
continued with their work. Z'szytheis begins to make his way to hang the
dreamcatchers leaving behind his polearm in the ground, exposing the symbol
of war to serve as a reminder for the soldiers patrolling the grounds.

The sun was high giving Z'szytheis ample amount of time to place the
dreamcatchers to their respective places. Making his way to one of the many
barracks, he climbed the stone wall and hung onto a piece of stone which
protruded from the ceiling. He carefully retrieved a dreamcatcher from the
bag and placed it at the centermost part of the soldiers sleeping quarters.
He releases his grip on the stone. A slight grunt can be heard as he lands
on his feet.

The bakali visits the numerous amount of barracks that surrounded the Fort.
"Truly an army to be revered. " The storekeepers surrounded the acolyte,
"Z'szytheis, could.. We trouble you for a dreamcatcher? " He stopped for a
moment and looked at the tainted walls of the shops and looks into his bag,
"There are enough dreamcatchers. We can spare some for the shopkeepers. "
he thought to himself. The snake nodded as he enters the shop and walks up
the stairs into the owner's bedroom. Small and cramped, he places the
dreamcatcher above the bed.

He did not forget about the magi. He walked past a few study halls wherein
many of them would fall asleep as they studied. "Wherever there is a
sleeping body, these too shall be present.
" He made his way to the Temple
Altar where the acolytes would meditate. "The very last one.. " Z'szytheis
reaches into the bag and holds up the last of the dreamcatchers. "Lord
Raije, may this deed be pleasing before you and may your favor be upon the
Fort Ironclad once again.
"




Writer: Piknim

Date Wed Mar 15 19:56:46 2023




Writer: Piknim

Date Wed Mar 15 19:56:51 2023




Writer: Piknim

Date Wed Mar 15 19:56:56 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Wed Mar 15 22:51:50 2023




Writer: Symantha

Date Thu Mar 16 23:10:49 2023

To All Carrionmaw Shadow ( Tritoch RP Imm )

Subject The Shards - Ast{oral & {uUmbral


Countless times she had brooded before the moonstone, gazing at its dark
planes, craving its power, feeling the intense desire to wield it...

But for this purpose, she needed something different and it was to the
magisters she turned. Years ago, two slivers had been stolen. Not by
simply gazing at it could it be noted, but she knew the tale and that Storm
had been able to retrieve one.

"Chancellor."

Drawn from her reverie, she felt the burn in her palm to grip the umbrastone
and call on it to devastating purpose..! Inhaling quietly, she instead
turned to the bowed gaze of the robed woman. A deep hood cloaked All but
the ends of her black braid and a shadowy gaze lifted to look on the Abbess
as a proper salute was offered.

A pale hand lifted then, to present a small crystal receptacle within which
floated the moonstone sliver.

"
{uCan another sliver be removed from the whole as this one was?" She
gestured at the umbrastone.

The magister visibly paused at the question, looked from the Chancellor to
the indicated stone, and after a considerable moment of contemplation,
answered: "It took a djinn, I believe, to do so the first time but I dont
see why not."

"
{uInform the Dark Lord and I if or when you know the answer." The order came
with an edge and, closing her fingers over the receptacle, she slid it into
a pocket.

The magister bowed, "As you will, Chancellor. The rest of the components
will be gathered and prepared for you in the meantime." and then drifted
away, her form joining with the shadows as she departed.

The gaze of the Abbess then returned to the umbrastone. It was a
maliciously patient yet voracious consciousness that met hers and she
reached out toward it, her scarred palm hovering within touching distance.
It would be easy to sacrifice whatever it wanted to that awareness, to
empower it to dark ends. It was a viable enough option, but not yet -
perhaps not ever, at least, to the extent slipping like a malevolent whisper
through her considerations.

She preferred the idea of mastering it but she understood that great acts
oft required great sacrifice, and time. It was only right that Siccara's
last act bear equally dark fruit of its own kind.

Clenching her fist slowly, her nails digging into the flesh, she turned
instead to the next step. The umbral shard obtained, she set her mind to
the astral and turned to depart.

\-^V^-/

The seas were unsettled.

The swells whitecapped below the sweep of Carrionmaw's massive wingspan and
above, gray clouds rushed by fitfully - sporadically unleashing flurries of
snow and rain.

She felt none of it. Not the wet cold nor the exhilaration of dragon
flight. Her gaze was set forward, over the spiked rise of the ancient
Firstborns neck and horned brow, as they flew headlong toward Icewall and
Dae'tok once again.




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Thu Mar 16 23:43:45 2023




Writer: Geirhart

Date Fri Mar 17 14:43:19 2023

To Althainia Arkane Knighthood Wargar Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Justice Rahma Timmel Imm Religion Xenophon Derigimus Whiskey ( All )

Subject Raise the Stone: Exploration of the Fields II



Geirhart sat on a boulder taking a break from his work. The sounds of
life were All about him. Insects buzzing, wind breezing, and animals
rustling in the grass. He reached into a pocket and for some reason pulled
out Penelopina's chimes. He helf them aloft as the wind begins to knock
them together. The sounds they create reminded him of something from long
ago.

Geirhart felt his mind become unfocused and his body became more light. He
closed his eyes and drifted off somewhere. He became the dragonfly, his
body flying and buzzing around the fields. Zipping here and there, he felt
his mind pulled towards an out cropping of crystals. Looking into them, he
could see several images of his own insect head. Then, in a swift dash of
wings, he launched himself into the crystal formation and rather than
bouncing off, he went into the geodes.

Geirhart felt his body being sucked down and down. HIs mind following the
crystal roots further into the ground. HIs spiritual body seemed to exit
into this cavern where his eyes center onto a luminesence. However just as
he got the image into view, his mind was shunted back into his body and the
old man lurched as though waking from a nightmare. Looking down at his
hands, the old man nodded.

'The bard told us about the music. I had forgotten. Now I remember. '

The old priest get's up from the warm boulder and walks over to where he saw
the crystal formation. He clears away the dirt and debris so he can see his
wrinkled face.

'The crystals were the key, not a hole. The crystals are the door.. '

Geirhart looks at the chimes and whispers, 'Well done Penny. '




Writer: Piknim

Date Fri Mar 17 22:04:53 2023




Writer: Piknim

Date Fri Mar 17 22:10:15 2023




Writer: Justian

Date Sat Mar 18 06:08:56 2023

To All Z'szytheis ( Raije Imm Admin Religion RP )

Subject The Final Fight (1 of 2)



The sun was setting, casting a warm glow across the rocky terrain as
Justian and Z'szytheis faced each other at the edge of a cliff overlooking
the vast ocean. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks below was the
only thing breaking the silence. Justian gripped a large pure white staff
in his hands, while Z'szytheis wielded two gleaming arcanium daggers at the
ready. Justian's bright blue eyes glinted briefly with greenish fire as he
chanted an incantation under his breath, his hooves tapping the rocky ground
in anticipation. Z'szytheis, with his one venomous fang, had a fierce look
in his reptilian eyes, his scaled skin glistening in the fading light. Both
combatants knew that this was a fight to the death, the winner taking the
still bleeding broken branch.

Z'szytheis lunged forward with his arcanium daggers flashing in the
sunlight, aiming for Justian's torso. But Justian was ready, and he quickly
stepped to the side, dodging the attack with ease. Justian, in turn, swung
his large pure white staff in a sweeping arc, hoping to catch Z'szytheis off
guard. However, Z'szytheis was quick to react and easily dodged the attack.
The two opponents circled each other warily, their eyes locked in a fierce
gaze, each waiting for the other to make a mistake.

As they clashed, the sound of metal against metal and the clatter of hooves
and feet echoed off the nearby cliffs and across the sea. Z'szytheis darted
and weaved around Justian's large pure white staff, his two arcanium daggers
carving deadly arcs in the air. Justian's hooves pounded the ground,
causing small tremors in the earth. The two combatants circled each other
warily, eyes locked in a deadly stare. Suddenly, Z'szytheis leapt forward,
his single fang bared. Justian barely sidestepped the attack, desperately
swinging his staff in response. Z'szytheis easily evaded the blow, his
daggers flicking out in quick jabs. Justian responded with a blast of
greenish fire, but Z'szytheis dodged it effortlessly, closing the distance
between them with lightning speed.

Z'szytheis lunged forward again with his arcanium daggers, trying to strike
Justian in the chest. But Justian was quick to parry, using his staff to
deflect the blow. He then followed up with a swift kick from his hooves,
but Z'szytheis dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack. Z'szytheis
countered with a quick jab, but Justian managed to duck just in time. As
they continued to trade blows, the sun began to set, casting long shadows
over the cliffs and the ocean below. The battle seemed to be reaching a
stalemate, neither combatant able to gain a clear advantage over the other.




Writer: Justian

Date Sat Mar 18 06:10:14 2023

To All Z'szytheis ( Raije Imm Admin Religion RP )

Subject The Final Fight (2 of 2)



As Justian and Z'szytheis continued their intense battle, both of them
were getting more and more fatigued. Justian's hooves had landed several
stunning blows on Z'szytheis, but the bakali assassin was resilient and kept
fighting. Z'szytheis slashed at Justian with expert precision, leaving deep
wounds on the centaur priest's flesh. Justian, not one to be outdone,
chanted an incantation that summoned greenish flames, which engulfed
Z'szytheis, causing him to writhe in pain. Despite their injuries and
fatigue, neither combatant was willing to back down.

Z'szytheis had fought fiercely, using every trick in his arsenal to gain the
upper hand. His one functioning fang had sunk deep into Justian's shoulder,
injecting a paralyzing venom that slowly spread through his body. Despite
Justian's attempts to fight back with his hooves and staff, Z'szytheis had
dodged and weaved around his attacks, striking with deadly precision. The
battle had been long and grueling, with neither combatant giving an inch.
But in the end, it was Z'szytheis who emerged victorious, standing tall over
his fallen friend turned foe. Z'szytheis stood victorious over Justian's
wounded and beaten body. The still bleeding broken branch firmly clutched
in his hand, its jagged edges cutting into his skin.

As Z'szytheis stood over Justian, he realized that the centaur was still
alive, barely conscious and badly wounded. He considered finishing him off,
but something in his gut told him to let him go. Z'szytheis sheathed his
daggers and picked up the broken branch, feeling its weight and power in his
hands. He looked out over the ocean, feeling a sense of triumph mixed with
melancholy. He had won the battle, but at what cost? He wondered if his
friendship with Justian could ever be repaired, or if their conflict over
the branch had permanently damaged it. With a sigh, he turned and walked
away, leaving the centaur behind to recover and, perhaps, seek his revenge
another day.




Writer: Carrionmaw

Date Sat Mar 18 10:20:06 2023

To All Shadow ( Tritoch RP Imm )

Subject The Shards - Ast{oral & {uUmbral II


The Magister's scheme unfolded faster than expected, and though the
Knights of Shadow had acquired some insight into Azi Dahaka and recovered
the Truesilver, neither of these things slowed the burning consumption of
the Lightscale.

Bit by bit the curse ate away at him, and it remained uncertain if the
Magister's plot offered salvation or yet another betrayal. Time was
slipping away from him, its last grains soon tumbling through the hourglass.
But perhaps a bit more could be bought.


\-^V^-/

A disquieting rumble coursed through the wyrm as he banked on the wind,
powerful wings carrying the pair high over the broken and jagged peaks
toward Eastdrift. The driving snow limited visibility beyond a short
distance but after another half-hour the watchtowers of the redoubt far
below appeared as they fought a futile battle against the dark.

He understood instinctively the opportunity and dangers since they were last
among the few who ever ventured deep into this frozen wasteland, and among
the even fewer who cared. The creatures of the warrens who wandered those
tenebrous extents, if they survived the collapse, would be no kinder and no
less ravenous with madness and fury. But cause and effect were uncertain
things in the Wastes.

They charted a course around the perimeter of the redoubt as the priestess
invoked an amethyst unholy flame signaling their arrival and circled once
then twice before the crackling spark of a reply rose into the sky in
answer. It was decided they would survey the perimeter of the collapsed
crater by dark and hone their plans further within the redoubt.

The journey back to Icewall had been largely uneventful, but this time the
same sense of unease crept into him, brooding and familiar. As they
approached the ruin of the lost city, the scent of their quarry would become
apparent even to a sense of smell less perceptive than a dragon's.

The Abbess' pale finger extended in warning, the harsh tenor of her voice
cutting through the wind, 'There, Dark Flame! ' Beneath the dark of his
wings, furred creatures in patchwork armor All gazed upwards in surprise and
began to flee, communicating to each other in whines, screams, howls, and
sobs in a language unfamiliar to priestess and Firstborn.

Diving to gain speed the crimson scaled beast returned to the earth with
sudden impact, sending a tremor through the cobbles of the ruined street
upon which the creatures fled. Illuminated by the lunar reflection off the
snowy avenue, Carrionmaw rose to his full height and summoned the searing
power of dragonfire within the chambers of his armored chest. Its heat
radiated through the narrow articulations of his scales, both red and white
with Lightscale, like a living sea of embers poised to kill as the ghul fell
to their knees.





Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Sat Mar 18 15:24:23 2023




Writer: Z'Quarus

Date Sat Mar 18 15:27:24 2023




Writer: Deteryd

Date Mon Mar 20 16:12:20 2023

To All Chaos Malachive Erebaal ( Rp Imm Admin Scorn Malachive )

Subject The Freljier Crusade: Mad Woman's Select


Agh-Ashi wasn't subtle in her desires. She knew she didn't have to be. Deteryd
brought her lots of new playthings over the course of her tenure within the
Warp and the Freljiern prisoners were no different. Her authority intoxicated
her to the point where she reveled in her craft without true purpose more than
she dedicated herself to her mission. She would never admit it though, for she
produced favorable results in the small amount of time she committed herself to
any task. She entertained herself in ways that the lord would disapprove of if
he knew, but he didn't have to know. You can't argue against the outcome.

The dark elf descended the staircase into the holding cell within the Chaos pit.
It was always busy in the gathering hall of the Warp, but tonight was quiet. The
ceremony was tomorrow. Not a single orc bellowed in battle-starved frustration.
Her footsteps were quiet as she glided towards the orc guard at attention. She
waved her hand dismissively and, fearing she would put a spell on him, the guard
turned to stare at a wall instead with a grunt. With a word she became incorpor-
eal and drifted through the bars. She dared not touch the grubby bars or keys to
the cell.

From behind her chain veil she studied the huddled Freljiern chits. Disgusting,
she thought to herself with an edge. Corrupted arcane calculus filled the cell
like a dense, colorless vapor that smelled of decayed rose petals. Her purple
lips mumbled in fell whispers barely audible. Those that gazed at the elf thane
in horror slumped into unconsciousness. Then, a few men began to levitate from
the filthy cell floor as if an invisible hand lifted them by their skulls. Their
legs and arms dangled in their iron bindings horrifically as if dead.

Agh-Ashi mimed wrapping twine around each prisoner's bindings. With a swift tug
the iron bindings were cut cleanly and fell from All three floating men's ankles
and wrists. Like a ghast, she guided the line of drifting men through the bars
and back up the stairs. With excitement, she braced herself for a fine night of
making the entralled relive any and All horrors. She was doing the lord a favor
anyways. They would be too exhausted to resist.




Writer: Penelopina

Date Mon Mar 20 17:13:58 2023

To All Justice Immortals Taliena

Subject Musical Stones!


{pIt was said that music was a kind of magic. Maybe one of the oldest,
most elemental kinds in existence. Even ignoring the sort of
{ppowerful that
colorful bards could command, music could move you to tears, raise your
spirits, inspire hope, or even let your
{pimagination run wild.

{pSo today, they were trying something new. Instead of digging in the ground
to unearth more of the crystals, Penelopina
{pStarflower Sha'aryas sat by the
well at the top of the Mystic Fields hill, and gently tugged on a single
string of her silvery elven harp{p.

{pThe sound carried well in the open field, and as she watched, Penny spied
some of the closer crystals faintly reverberating.

{pCurious, she plucked on another string, and another. At first, simply
nonsensicle notes. Then, she tried the song that
{pGeirhart had told her of,
the one sung by the bard that had lead them here in the first place. A few
others she knew by heart. Melody after melody she
{ptried, and while her
heart soared, and she could find a simple enjoyment in the music, it did not
seem to resonate with
{pany sort of answers to their questions.

{p'Are we, perhaps, asking the wrong questions? {p' she wondered aloud, laying
a hand over the strings of her harp to
{pgently silence it.

{pIf there was an answer, she did not hear it. Only the wind rustling through
the long grass and amidst the multi-colored crystals{p.




Writer: Nikola

Date Tue Mar 21 21:27:33 2023

To All ( black_robes bloodlust ) Imms RP Drakkara

Subject A lone black hat & its library.



Inside of a well adorned library a small woman, almost childlike, was
adjusting her multi-lensed goggles while sifting through a stack of
documents and tomes, jotting notes on a sheet of parchment floating in the
air before her.

In the middle of a book-ladened table was a partially glowing crystalline
vallenleaf, clearly a major focus.

She is wearing classical wizard attire: a form-fitting short black robe, a
black half cloak, ebony-red boots and an enormous black wizard hat with gold
border and trimmings, alongside a glowing gem covered black choker, belt and
fingerless gloves. The parts of fingers that were exposed were stained
black with ink.

"So much to do! I will need an army of constructs and thrulls if..... "
she had been thinking, cut mid-thought, the gnome stopped.

She looked up and around the room, her sixth sense setting off alarm bells
throughout her body,

"I am being watched", she inwardly acknowledged.

Focusing blood into her eyes and peering into the shadows around her, she
pushed a wave of energy out from her core. Similar to a bats echolocation,
a skilled mage could pulsate waves of arcane energy about them and make note
of the resonance, each object having its own particular arcane signature.

Properly done... Nothing could hide or shroud itself.

Well, .... Almost nothing.

She began to stand up, her brain firing off every synapse while tuning her
awareness to the moment, each second now perceived in terms of minutes, her
brain working furiously through every possibility and her logic engine
determining whether there was threat or not.

Without ceremony or force her brain just stopped processing possibilities,
all stimuli ceased. She could not feel her body, she tried to wiggle her
toes, her nose, her ears...

... Nothing. She tried to summon her internal energies, to circulate her
blood and awaken her defenses. Nothing.

All of her auto-spells failed to fire.

All of her defenses and wards... Penetrated or made meaningless.

She could not even discern an emotion, whatever bodily function helped
produce fear or panic was absent.... Except what was that?

She thought she could hear, something... Faintly. She tried to focus, for
what little she could, trying to will into existence the structure of an
ear. There was something, something distant... Something mechanical?

** SNIP SNIP **

________________________________________________________

Inside of a well adorned library there were many books.

There was also a small stool and on it sat a black wizard hat & a well used
pair of goggles.




Writer: Z'szytheis

Date Wed Mar 22 20:29:37 2023

To All Justian Chaos Marauders ( IMM RP RELIGION RAIJE )

Subject A Chance at Redemption - (I/I)



Standing over the battered and bruised centaur was the victorious bakali.
Once an ally now turned enemy. Blood pooled beneath the still breathing
creature, noticeably soaking into his robes. The snake looked down on the
centaur disappointed, "Justian, had you heed my plea in regards to leaving
the Warp.. Then this would not have needed to happen.
" Z'szytheis knelt
to the ground, staring into Justian's eyes as he slowly placed the sharp
knife to his throat. "Let this be a lesson, Justian, " the snake grabbing
the branch from the centaur's weakened grasp with his free hand, "This will
be your last chance to turn away from this so-called truth. When and if our
paths cross again -- should you survive this one -- will truly end your
fate.
"

Z'szytheis' encounter with the burly minotaur whom he could only guess was
Raije, made him realize that his life too was spared at the time he was
bloody, bruised and broken. He was given another chance for redemption. He
slowly rose to his feet and turned his back to Justian as he spoke with a
firm voice, "Break the chains that bind you. Your potential is high and is
only hindered by that of the Warp. There is no joy in desolate lands, old
friend.
" The snake held on to the branch and walked away, leaving a trail
of blood from the still-bleeding branch. He turns his head to look at the
almost lifeless body before disappearing in a cloud of smoke.




Writer: Piknim

Date Thu Mar 23 07:59:18 2023




Writer: Piknim

Date Thu Mar 23 08:18:38 2023




Writer: Symantha

Date Fri Mar 24 04:20:51 2023

To All Shadow Black_Robes ( Drakkara Imm RP )

Subject Nadrik's Wrath - Trials of the Towers


She stood on the battlements of Storm Keep and, as the black marble and
granite walls, weathered the brief sandstorm alone as it raged through the
desert and into New Thalos. The Keep wards shimmering in response to the
passage.

From her position, she watched as arcane power rippled through the
concentrated sand about the kingdom, obscuring All but the faint image of a
tower barely visible from such a distance. But she knew, she had been
informed.

A djinn.

She had enough experience to know just how devastating they could be and the
violent lightning that turned the sand to glass beneath the veiled desert
sky was telling.

It was an acute experience, tracking the eruption of azure light from
Arkane's Azure Tower to this play of power in New Thalos' Tower of the
Djinn, but what had begun with a pall of darkness over the Ebon Spire seemed
to culminate with the same cracks of light brought on by the Pillars that
had fallen throughout the strongholds of the Dark. Nadrik's wrath given
divine form and function.

There was a wry but steady sense of inevitability in her as she watched
fractures spread further through the Black Tower later from her perch, the
bitter cold winds of Winter's lingering grasp tugging at her robes and hair
atop Eclipse Tower. The tears had resonated dangerously, as if the
construct might rip itself apart at the drop of a pin.

A personal powerlessness in it, as expected, but also a thread of something
more. Something she eagerly latched on to in the wake of rushed words with
the Ebon's Vizier.

Change was in the air, though it smelled of ozone and violence. And as she
watched the distortion rip the fabric of Algoron in the sky, the mote of
light as it sank into the depths of the dark seas, she felt again the edge
of the chasm and the warning words of Drakkara - though they had been for
her at the time.

The crumbling precipice loomed. Would the chasm consume them or would they
find footing both new and strong.

Time would certainly tell.



 


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