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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

Saying Goodbye
The Line
Blood Ties
Pesky dust and Faerie magic
Returning Home - Part 1
Returning Home - Part 2 (End)
A Brother's Right
Out of the Darkness and Into the Sun
Blood on Thin Ice
Will You Make It Home? *P1*
Will You Make It Home? *P2*
Blood on Thin Ice (Part 2)
Blood on Thin Ice (Part 3)
Blood on Thin Ice (Part 4)
Blood on Thin Ice (Part 5)
Flying the Banner : A Pixilating Tale
No Going Back
The Center of the Bog (Part 1)
Burning the Past
-The Balance of Life-
An Unwanted Discourse (Part 2)
The Center Of The Bog (Part 3)
The Hardest Part
An Innocent Life
An Innocent Life - The Aftermath
Spellbound (Revisited): Between a Rock and a Hard Equation
Spellbound (Revisited, II): The Limits of Approaching Infinity
Spellbound (Revisited, III): Differentiation
Spellbound: Apotheosis - Written in the Stars
Spellbound: Apotheosis (II) - Neurotic Asymptotic
Spellbound: Apotheosis (III) - Factoring All the Angles
Spellbound: Incarnation - The Shortest Distance
Spellbound: Incarnation (II) - Solution
-The Mother's Will, The Law of Shalonesti-
A Faded World, Prayers Anew
Disconnection & Discord (Part 4)
Trip To Tropica I (Part 5-a)
Trip To Tropica II (Part 5-b)
Spellbound: Incarnation (III) - Division
Spellbound: Incarnation (IV) - Prime Factor
Spellbound: Incarnation (Final) - Integration by Parts
Reflection in The Onyx Temple
Return To Abaddon (Part 6)
A Sacrificial Gift
Pride, and its ugly truth ( Part One )
Pride, and its ugly truth ( Part Two - End )
No More Stones
Prey (Part 1)
Poor Unfortunate Souls (Part 2)
Waste Not, Want Not
Being Found isn't always a Blessing
An Empty Ship
Insufficient Funds (Part 1) - Aggressive Takeover
Insufficient Funds (Part 2) - Reappropriation
The Madness of Routine
Too Close for Comfort
Too Close for Comfort (Part 2)
X Inevitability X
Musing on Fellowship
Winds of Change: Gales of Laughter
The Seraph's Blade
Tears of Atonement [Worms Don't Fly]
|The Hunt for History v5|
Fatal Miscalculation
Where Fools Tread... (Part 1)
|The Hunt for History v6|
X Fire and Blood X
...Headaches Follow (Part 2)
+ The Count's Courtesy +
Totally At A Loss
|The Hunt for History v7|
Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part I
Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part II
Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part III
Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part IV
Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part V
Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part VI
Zero Sum (Part I)
Zero Sum (Part II)
Zero Sum (Finale)
Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part VII
Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part VIII
Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part IX
Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part X
Lacunae (I)
The Northlands
Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale and the Althainian Provinces
Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part One
Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Two
Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Three
Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Four
Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Five
Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Six
Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Seven
Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Eight
Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Nine
Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Ten
Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Eleven
Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Twelve
Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Thirteen
Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale and the Althainian Provinces (End)
Odurutt Iulzus uh Loltuau
|The Hunt for History v8|
The Hunter's Calling
The Hunter's Lament
The Hunter's Rage
The Northlands: Preparation
The Journey to the Harvest

Writer: Cliodhna
Date Mon Sep 28 14:54:32 2015

To All Nordmaar Pixie Imm *Rp*

Subject Saying Goodbye

Cliodhnas wings fluttered creating the sound like the rustling of dead
leaves. The morning sun broke through the limbs of the Blackwood Forest,
and cast sunbeams across the field of clover that the pixie had fallen
asleep in the night before. Shed been playing a game with a ranger. She
kept making him see visions of a beautiful naked woman, long flowing red
hair, a true highland vixen, sadly for him the end of the line was into the
mountains surrounding The Vale. She knew the dragons would love the
offering, and even perhaps leave her people alone if they found the offering
worth while. He wasnt a bright man, so a intellectual conversation was not
in the cards for the Firstborn, but he was meaty, and he might taste good to
those who ate human flesh.

A giant yawn broke free from the tiny pixies lilac lips. Nimbly, she worked
a couple new bluebells into the celtic knot of her hair style. Rarely did
she wear her hair down, it was a hassle but her mother had always told her
it was bad luck to cut her hair. That it tore away at the past, and the
memories that had been tied into her heritage. It was one of the few
traditions Cliodhna followed of her people. Sure she loved to cause as much
trouble as she could, delighting in the folly of others. She was however
not as social as many of the other pixie in the Blackwoods. Shed become so
curious with the races of Algoron, that she spent many times zipping into
Nordmaar, or over to other villages and kingdoms. Much to the chiding of
her brothers and sisters.

Cadwall was watching her from a tiny bush, she could see the aura of magic
around him, even if she couldnt see him completely. He was her younger
brother. Most of the other pixies of the Blackwood were related one way or
another, but Cadwall was born of her mother. He had been mute his entire
life. He had a great deal of magic inside him, but not the way to express
it. It might have been best for the rest of the world. She gave a jovial
laugh, as she burst from the flowerbed, sending droplets of morning dew in
every direction. They were off in a chase. He loved this game, sooner of
later she would let him catch her.

Skimming her bare feet across the tops of long blades of grass, she let out
a yelp of excitement as she felt Cadwalls hands grab her hips, and the pair
of them went skidding into the soft fluffy green grass. The pair of them
laughed catching their breaths.

Cad, Im leaving the forest. She finally managed to get herself together
enough to speak. He looked at her with a sadness to his eyes, but not a
hint of surprise. This declaration had been long in the coming and her
whole family knew it. He was the last person she had to tell, and the
hardest. They had spent most of their childhood together, He had heard ever
worry and question she had about life Every secret she had to share, and the
girl had many.

The two of them knew he was not made to travel outside of the Blackwood.
This was his home and it allowed for safety. The trips shed made outside of
the wood had been leading to this. To a confidence to break out and see
what Algoron had to offer. She hugged her brother close, and did not let go
for a long time. He didnt need to say anything for her to know he would do
anything to stay like this forever. In the distance came a great screaming.
A man in turmoil, followed by the great roar of a dragon. The two pixies
smiled and giggled to one another.

Writer: Taggett

Date Mon Sep 28 15:19:28 2015

To All Arkane Abaddon Conclave Lothaw Bruun Takeri Palquinn Imm Kantilles *Rp*

Subject The Line

A feeling like the wind had been knocked from her gut, had lingered with
Taggett for weeks now. As if All the worlds sorrow had fallen on her
shoulders. Takeri was dead, she had been at the pond, swimming, enjoying
herself with her friends. She watched the half elf go under the water, and
then float to the surface in a pooling of her own crimson blood. She was
missing her heart, removed by some demonic force. Had it been the spirit
following the Life Mage for days. Could it really be her dead father who
had killed one of her oldest friends.

Arkane was quiet, she sat sipping a glass of juice at the Fellowship Saloon.
A few rather drunk men kept giving her strange looks. She supposed being
that her eyes glowed, and she didnt look much older then sixteen confused
the men as to what to make of her. Part of her wanted to simply disappear.
Shed spent the last few weeks hiding away in the crystal monastery. Giving
herself time between the rest of the world, she felt closer here, to him, to
Kantilles. She wished he would come to her again, to guide her out of the
confusion of her life.

She might only appear to most a teenage human, but shed lived much longer
then most on Algoron. Hundreds of years, trapped in a death like sleep, and
many many years of life before that. Shed studied a long time in the
Conclave to learn the ways of the Necromancer and alter the teachings to fit
that of a Life Mage, her own personal definition of someone who controls
death, but wields the otherside of it and brings it to life. There was some
magic she never used. Some spells she knew that she promised herself shed
never cast.

One of those she used that day. She brought Takeri back, but it was not her
friend. It was not the person she loved, and had shared so many adventures
with. Some death was beyond fixing, some death could not be corrected.
Takeris spirit had almost completely passed over, when Taggett had drawn on
the life of those around them, when she made the body of her dead friend
first twitch and then rise. Whatever pieces of Takeri shed brought back was
only a fraction of the person she had known. Shed used magic she had kept
locked away for her entire life. She had brought shame to the idea of what
a Life Mage was, crossing a line. The walking death that had been Takeri
had found a new home in Abaddon. A life if it could really be called that.
Taggett felt as if she herself had died that day. Everything stopped
suddenly. She didnt see the people shed once spent so much time with. All
the friends shed made. Bruun, Lothaw, Palquinn, and so many more. She
couldnt bring herself to look these people in the eyes. She felt like a
stranger in her own skin. She felt like a lie.

Rummaging through her bag, she found a piece of parchment, and some almost
empty ink. She wasnt sure if what she was doing was right, she only knew it
felt like the only option. The one thing she had learned in her life, was
her magic had always been the source of trouble. It was part of the reason
shed made such clear rules to what she would and wouldnt do. Stepping over
those lines had brought her to realize the truth. Magic was part of every
moment in her life, and that she was truly a danger to anyone she was close
to. She wrote..

Signing her name took a few moments. She knew what returning to the
Conclave meant. The life those who protected the knowledge of magic faced.
How it would separate her from Arkane. At last she was able to sign the
paper. At last she knew it was her only choice.

Writer: Kaladon

Date Tue Sep 29 00:18:00 2015

Writer: Kaladon
Date Tue Sep 29 00:38:27 2015

Writer: Liviya
Date Tue Sep 29 04:46:16 2015

Writer: Kaladon
Date Tue Sep 29 05:45:44 2015

Writer: Kaladon
Date Tue Sep 29 05:45:49 2015

Writer: Tanaal
Date Tue Sep 29 10:49:30 2015

To All Abaddon Deccan Damion Rhyane ( Imm RP Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Blood Ties

"Ph'n'ghft, uln kadishtu! In blood, finality!"

"Ph'n'ghft, uln kadishtu! In blood, finality!"

"Ph'n'ghft, uln kadishtu! In blood, finality!"

Arms lifted towards the ceiling, Tanaal chanted the mantra. The air of the
ceremonial chamber in the Royal Crypt seemed to pulse with an odd warmth
with every intonation.

"Ph'n'ghft, uln kadishtu! In blood, finality!"

Tanaal dropped to his knees, his arms falling partially to an open-chest
position. The air was clearly alive with some eldricht force as Tanaal kept
his voice steady. With this ritual, he hoped, his abilities with blood
ritual magic would be assured, as would his place in Abaddon, with the
prestige that would come from his efforts to have a new relic in the
kingdom's hands.

Soon, they will recognize me. The Dark Father will laud my efforts, and my
power will be realized!

"Ph'n'ghft, uln kadishtu! In blood, finality!"

Weeks of preparation led to this. From the moment of its inception, the
blood chalice was going to be a fount for the kingdom, and a new symbol and
testament to Abaddon's growing power. As the trance-like state of mind took
Tanaal, he re-lived his experiences of his former ritual, stealing into the
ritual chamber of the Temple of Evil to unlock magical potential that had
been denied to him his entire life until that fateful day. His work was
precise. His effort was rigorous. His execution was consistent.

But he was only a fledgling, then.

As he acclimated to his newfound power, he continued to dabble into blood
rituals daily, moonlighting away from his duties as a simple Digger in
Abaddon's Forsaken as a fledgling blood mage. The constant reminder of his
meteoric rise in ability after breaking down the walls of his own limits
made him grin.

... And now, a fledgling no longer.

Focus, fool!

"Ph'n'ghft, uln kadishtu! In blood, finality!"


Tanaal opened his eyes. "Heh...?" He grunted. He peered about, but saw no
moisture on the ceiling of the crypt. He could have sworn that he felt
something drip on his forehead. He reached up to wipe, and glanced at his

Blood...? But the only blood for this ritual is...

Tanaal looked to the common decanter in front of the crypt's flame, and saw
it flowing over the rim and onto the floor, All around himself. He was
kneeling in a pool of it. And it was rising. Tanaal's pulse quickened as
he looked down to find that his circle of protection was completely
submerged in blood, now obscured.


A metallic screeching crunch came from under the veil of blood that covered
the decanter as its silhouette seemed to contort. The flow of blood stopped
at once, as did the pulsing in the air. Slowly, Tanaal observed, the blood
that had submerged his legs and ankles in the crypt seeped through the
cracks between the slabs on the floor. As the veil of blood fell from the
newly-shaped decanter, it's form was revealed: a blackened chalice, runed
with dark energies.

Tanaal cackled with glee. The ritual was a success. And now, so was he.

Writer: Aethelwine

Date Tue Sep 29 11:28:03 2015

Writer: Phred

Date Tue Sep 29 13:24:44 2015

To All Nordmaar Cliodhna Donnchadh Jaidyn ( IMM RP )

Subject Pesky dust and Faerie magic

Upon waking, which was difficult this morning, she knew she needed to
delve into had happened last night. Phred shifted in bed, her sleeping
companion long since departed to work on - well, whatever it was. Phred
wasn't exactly sure. There were other matters to focus on and lying under a
pile of furs, no matter how wonderfully comforting, most assuredly would not
see to their completion. With a soft grunt, she got out of bed and found
her clothes, which proved harder than should be as she couldn't seem to
remember where they landed. Then when she did find them, they had been
plopped to near the springs and were damp and stiff with cold. She scolded
herself, hanging them by the fire. She wrapped herself in a blanket and
waited for them to dry.

It had easier than breathing to get into the Faeries lands, getting out was
proving to be something of a quandary. She had been relieved, a little
jealous, but grateful when Chlaus had helped her defeat the Queen of Fae,
she felt that putting on the crown had been a mistake. She knew for sure it
would have made her mad with All that it contained the very essence of the
Queen's power. After Chlaus destroyed it however, she couldnt hear the
hundreds upon hundreds twittering chattering noises of the Court. She no
longer wanted to gather her beloved children to her and create a Hunt. Yet
last night she felt the pull, some vestige left within her at the sight of
the pixie. She spoke to the pixie and she could not could not remember what
was said. It had been like she was there in her body but wasn't in control.
And the enchantment the pixie cast, would it be true? Would she never find
anyone that wouldnt leave her? And Donnchadh, ah! Would he really fall in
love with the next woman he met? Would she with him? She saw the wicked
streak of the Fae that she grown to understand, blessing or curse, mostly it
was both. The happy fortune of finding a pot of gold and then getting the
crap kicked out of you by the Leprechaun who was watching from bushes.
Pixie dust, Fae Magic, Wild magic, they were All so unpredictable.

She checked her clothing, dressed and went to put on her boots at the door,
then turned about abruptly to pen a note to - well, she wasn't sure what to
call him. She didn't have time to begin to dwell on that. She put what she
had been think over into words and left it on the piano. She'd head to the
Blackwood to try to find that pixie and question her further. She needed
answers. She would begin with that.

Writer: Leynce

Date Tue Sep 29 23:24:16 2015

Writer: Leynce

Date Tue Sep 29 23:30:28 2015

Writer: Nefastus

Date Wed Sep 30 04:51:19 2015

Writer: Nefastus

Date Wed Sep 30 04:56:50 2015

Writer: Rhyane

Date Wed Sep 30 21:39:39 2015

Writer: Ry'veleth

Date Thu Oct 1 10:28:29 2015

To Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom All ( Zandreya Imm RP )

Subject Returning Home - Part 1

Quick, light footsteps danced about on the polished marble floor of the
Museum. Bird song could be heard drifting in from outside, along with the
sigh of the wind as it moved through the boughs of the vallenwood trees.
The only thing that interrupted the lulling sounds were the quiet huffs and
grunts coming from Ry'veleth as she practiced her sword play. Her hat was
off, her hair drawn back and up into a bushy pony tail, and sweat beaded on
her skin before running down her form and soaking into her clothes - or
being flicked off as she moved. Her only company were the three status of
Josiuh, Faloria and Almaran.

It was odd for her to be in the museum. Since her talk with Drondon, and
the gift of the compass, she had taken to avoiding the city altogether.
Most of her time was spent on the ships, tending to this chore or that. Now
and then, she had taken to brief work on a merchant vessel, helping guard
and navigate as needed. Now, though, she had returned to the city, and was
keeping herself off of the ships.

She swiped upward and used the momentum to spin about, pretending to slam
the hilt down upon an invisible head. She focused on the bounce the weapon
would make and spun the weapon about, using her free hand to cup the pommel
and strike forward with a thrust. Her legs quivered with the posture, but
she did not linger as she withdrew her sword and ducked a pretend incoming
blow before spinning in to get closer.

As she moved about the museum, panting with the long exertion she was
putting her body through, her mind was half on her task and half on the
reason for her return.

All of her life, Ry'veleth had lived without fear. The wilders of the Aelin
were one with nature - there was no creature that they were afraid of.
Respectful enough to keep their distance, yes, but not afraid. Later, on
the pirate ships and merchant vessels, she had learned All she had needed to
survive on the open seas. The thought of drowning had never really crossed
her mind, and when it did, death itself had not frightened her. All things
had their time and when hers arrived, she would likely look back on her full
life and be pleased. The thought of the loss of her sanity had done
something to her, though. It had, for the first time in her existence,
taught her fear. There was nothing more troubling than losing sense of
reality because your own mind was erecting a maze you did not know how to

Then, one night, as she had read over a letter she had received from Elrei,
the last line caught her. She had read it dozens of times, but on that
particular evening, she had been bound for Haven to act as a broker for a
trade. His practiced, flowing penmanship, cleanly readable on the rice
parchment had been a part of the reason she had been keeping away from the
Vallens, avoiding the compass in her bag, and doing what she could not to
sleep - to hear the song.

"If you are sensitive to such, which might seem to be the case given the
situation, I advise you to be cautious.
I've known more than one that,
even with proper training, has been emotionally harmed because of their
connection to the Bladesong."

It was that night that Ry'veleth realized she had been afraid. That single
epiphany had filled her with anger, and shame. She was an elf, and not a
child, and her people were known for their control over their emotions. How
could she possibly accomplish her desire to protect her people and her home
if she was afraid of her own thoughts? How could she look herself in the
eye (in a mirror of course) knowing she allowed herself to run away from the
one thing that troubled her, rather than facing it?

The answer to her questions were simple: She could not.

And that was why she had returned.

Writer: Ry'veleth

Date Thu Oct 1 10:41:42 2015

To Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom All ( Zandreya Imm RP )

Subject Returning Home - Part 2 (End)

As she tried to parry an invisible enemy, Ry'veleth's booted fit slipped
on the floor. Without a lot of grace, she fell, and her shoulder slammed
into the base of the statue of Josiuh. Thankfully, it was large and solid,
and firmly planted in the ground, so the only result was Ry'veleth producing
a string of curses as she rubbed her wounded shoulder. Her sword clattered
against the floor and, unable to stop shaking from exhaustion, she lowered
herself fully to the ground, her back against the base of the statue.
Unable to help herself, she looked upward, her amber eyes drinking in the
sight of the All but forgotten hero.

After the trip to Haven, Ry'veleth had returned to Shalonesti and had gone
straight to her quarters. She had removed the few things she had allowed to
find places and tidied up after herself before leaving. She would not allow
herself to hide any longer, or allow herself to run from her personal
problems. If it was for her to eventually go insane, then that simply was
how it was meant to be. Just like death at sea, or at the hand of a beast.
All she could do was continue to live her life the way she preferred, and
hope that along the way she would find the strength and courage to overcome
the tests that presented upon her path.

That was how she had ended up in the museum. Her troubles had started here,
it seemed - the dreams and song coming to her after she rested eyes on the
statue of Josiuh. She knew what she wanted, though. After being told
Josiuh's story, of how he had bravely and selflessly given his life to save
the life of a young Shalonost, she was inspired. She wanted to be like
Josiuh in some ways - strong and devoted to their people. Drondon had told
her that his personal name amongst the Kyorl was remembrance, and she had
learned that Josiuh was called the Maelstrom. The memory made her lips
twitch into a smile because it was a Maelstrom that had saved her from the
pirate ships and washed her ashore on Shokono. According to her Aelin
friends, a Maelstrom was also how she had come to be on their shorelines.

Perhaps it was that wild kinship that touched her heart. The knowledge that
not All good things come from seemingly good sources. Sometimes it takes a
raging, blinding, unforgiving storm that screams and unleashes All of its
fury upon everything to create something magnificent.

Also, perhaps she was just reading into things too much. She was going
crazy, after all.

A dry chuckle parted her lips, and Ry'veleth reached for her decanter,
quenching her thirst. She tucked the simple container away, then wiped some
sweat from her brow with her sleeve. Since her hands were no longer
shaking, she grabbed her sword and stood up, bent on practicing until she
was on the verge of passing out. Then she would eat, and bathe and go on

It was time for her to truly become a part of her people, and to see just
how far the maelstrom was going to send her.

Writer: Aethelwine
Date Fri Oct 2 14:56:22 2015

Writer: Lowenir
Date Fri Oct 2 18:48:48 2015

To All Verminasia Liviya ( Immortal RP Necrucifer )

Subject A Brother's Right

It was an understatement to say that Lowenir wasn't crazy about his
mother's children.

Firstly, there was something close to a dozen of them - though he'd long ago
lost an exact count. Secondly, the larger handful were half-ogre by blood,
which was no problem, save for the fact they were half Firebeard, as well.
That disastrous tidbit meant they were, regrettably, also half of The Light
and equally predisposed to follow deities of Goodness as they were those of
the Darkness.

Lowenir wanted nothing to do with it. In fact, he only officially
recognized his elder twin sisters that shared his father, Leandre and
Leonella. If pressed, he would also admit to having a distinct esteem for
Oroszlan, who had proven himself a learned advocate as a Priest of

As Lowenir gazed down at the wrapped bundle in his arms, however, he felt
his heart melting toward the newest addition to his family, regardless of
the knowledge that it was a bastard born of a fool father.

This one was wholly human and entirely encompassed in Darkness.

He spent an inordinate amount of time bonding with his newborn sibling, in
the first few days, reminiscing on his own upbringing and the way his mother
had molded him into a proper Madaur, going so far as to eschew his real name
- Taba - and endow him with her maiden name, instead. He learned how to
hold a baby, awkward and clumsy at first, being admonished that it was a
child and not a sword or a turkey leg to be swung about. Nor, they assured
him, would it bite. At least not until teeth grew in.

One evening, as his mother slept the fitful sleep of a parent with a
newborn, Lowenir had carted his sibling out beneath the pale full moon, burp
cloth slung over one shoulder and a large, wide hand carefully supporting
the infant's comically tiny rear. There, just the two of them and
Necrucifer present, Lowenir pledged that as he, himself, had been born and
bred to serve a very specific purpose, so, too, would this little one be
taken under its big brother's wing and be taught the ropes of life of the
servant of the Darkness.

Come what may, from that moment forth, a bond of protection and mentoring
had been formed - one that, if carefully fostered, would stretch long into
the future and beyond.

Writer: Meladee
Date Sat Oct 3 00:06:11 2015

Writer: Meladee
Date Sat Oct 3 00:06:57 2015

Writer: Meladee
Date Sat Oct 3 00:07:49 2015

Writer: Aethelwine
Date Sat Oct 3 11:04:45 2015

Writer: Deccan
Date Sat Oct 3 16:31:24 2015

Writer: Milleuda
Date Sun Oct 4 07:26:17 2015

Writer: Salainn
Date Sun Oct 4 14:45:28 2015

Writer: Salainn
Date Sun Oct 4 14:47:29 2015

Writer: Salainn
Date Sun Oct 4 14:48:44 2015

Writer: Salainn
Date Sun Oct 4 14:50:33 2015

Writer: Salainn
Date Sun Oct 4 14:51:48 2015

Writer: Salainn
Date Sun Oct 4 14:54:16 2015

Writer: Elrei
Date Mon Oct 5 10:42:53 2015

To All Taliena Imm RP

Subject Out of the Darkness and Into the Sun

"I suppose... I am simply too old."

The truth was, as old as he had gotten, he had come to know many things
about the world very well. The problem with that, of course, was that the
better you know something, or someone, the more clearly you saw their faults
and flaws. That was a fact of life, and was the primary cause of divorce,
abandonment - really, the end of any relationship. Love was easy to claim,
but was put to the test when you saw how people acted when they were
stressed, drunk, desperate, or in some cases, given power.

But true love meant you chose to serve and be there despite filthy
habits, or lack of judgment. It shouldn't mean taking abuse, but even
without that love still meant enduring pain, making sacrifices. Love was an
action, something you did rather than something that just happened. Love
was seeing the darkness within another person, the personal demons that
plagued them, and resisting the impulse to run away.

In that, Elrei had been... Not failing perhaps, as failure indicated an
ending, but not entirely successful in any case. In so many cases
throughout life, he had spent - some might say wasted - his time trying to
explain himself to people who seemed set on misunderstanding him and his
efforts. He had spent too much time trying to change the minds and hearts
of those who saw no issues with their actions. At last, in Althainia - with
Aliera and the Imperial Church - he had given up. Instead of trying to
prove himself, he kept quiet and walked away. Some might consider that an
improvement, yet it left so much internal disappointment that the lack of
external conflict was without merit.

In truth, it left him homesick. Rather, it made him aware of the feeling
- but not for Althainia, or any other place he had called home. Elrei
longed for a place he wasn't certain existed, a place where his heart was
full and his soul was understood. He was homesick for a place where he was
celebrated and accepted - where he didn't have to constantly explain and
defend his work, his choices, his life - rather than just tolerated, worked
around, or even lied to. In search of such a place he ended up simply
alone, wrapped up in the disappointment he had accumulated over his long
life due to knowledge of the world's flaws, because the truth was that no
such place existed on Algoron.

He had to look higher.

It was a shame that he'd had to go through so much trouble and pain to
come to such a realization, but that was life. After all, the seed doesn't
become a tree without breaking itself open. Change was painful, regardless
of whether the cause was growth or destruction. But sometimes the bridges
that are hardest to cross lead to the most magical places.

She told him, not so long ago, that perhaps it was time to change his
focus, "to move from a larva into a butterfly." The comparison had stung,
at the time. He hadn't understood, or maybe he had but was not yet ready.
The cocoon wasn't strong enough, his mortal concerns and desires - and the
desires of others - had gotten in the way. But it was time to remember who
he really was, not who others had expected or told him to be. It was time
to stop trying to walk the path that others had set for him, and find his
own again. And it was time, at last, to leave his past behind.

He wasn't certain, yet, what direction he was going. He had broken
through, and the light of his revelations was still blinding him to anything
else. He had hope, though, that a butterfly was proof that you could go
through a great deal of darkness, yet still become something beautiful.

Writer: Norn

Date Mon Oct 5 17:27:34 2015

Writer: Ashbie
Date Tue Oct 6 08:26:37 2015

To Verminasia All Marcaus Immortal Roleplay

Subject Sick!

Ashbie lay in bed. The curtains in her room were drawn to block out the
sunlight. They did a rather fine job of it too. The room was dark as the
inky depths of midnight. In spite of that fact, a terrible, pulsing pain
continued to wreak havoc on her temples and around the crown of her head.

Only once before had Ashbie had such a headache. Some termed it a
migraine, but that word sounded so soft for the vice-like grip and
incessant stabbing that drilled into her skull -- threatening to break her

The best healers had been called out and seen to her personally in
Sacnoth. However, at best, they had managed to concoct solutions that
would allow her to sleep through the pain. She had vivid and unsettling
visions in her dreams. She saw a red dragon with the head of Mencius
flying above the skies of Verminasia. She saw fire, entire towns razed
to the ground beneath the swirling and dacing flames.

Ashbie only knew that it was day time because she had managed to get up
out of bed. It was the first time she'd managed that in the last two days.
Every hour, an attendant came in and helped shift Ashbie so that she
wouldn't develop bed sores. She complained every time, trying to move
herself. She wasn't an invalid. However, the help was persistent. No doubt
a result of her husband's meddling.

Aybel gave the impression of an aloof man focused on his pet projects,
and, in many respects, that was exactly the best way to describe him. In
spite of that, he did seem to genuinely care for Ashbie in a way that was,
at times, annoying. Though it was also endearing.

Ashbie tilted herself to the side and, with only the barest hint of
warning, expirated into the pail that had been set there for that express
purpose. The nausea was new, she hadn't had it in the last episode. So was
the coughing. Violent, hacking, wet coughs that seemed to follow vomiting

Wiping her mouth with one hand, Ashbie rolled onto her back once more and
stared up at the ceiling in her room. I'm falling apart. The thought
echoed through Ashbie's mind. She was still young, beautiful, and on top
of the world. Somewhere, cognitively, she recognized that fact. Yet, the
splitting pain and the overwhelming feeling of "un-wellness" had settled
in like an unwelcome roommate.

The door opened a little. Ashbie immediately thought of Aybel, he had
stopped by at several times during her stay in Sacnoth. Normally, Ashbie
was the one visiting the capital. Aybel preferred to work within Sacnoth
to develop his ideas. However, the past week had seen Aybel off to
Verminasia on a number of occasions to speak on behalf of Sacnoth. He
usually visited her afterward with a report.

However, the mousy woman who pushed the door wider and stepped in was
definitely not Aybel. Ebba was their quietist servant. Mostly because she
was a mute. The small, delicate-looking woman had not always been mute. In
the past, she'd had a reputation for having a mouth on her. Ashbie was
was warned about the gossip when she first moved to Sacnoth.

As a result, Ashbie put Ebba to the test. She shared three stories
centered around one rumor. She told each of these stories to three
different individuals in confidence. Only one of the stories got out. The
other two servants were spared the fate that awaited Ebba. She was
summoned before the rest of the staff. Ashbie took hold of the woman,
easily overpowering the servant with her strength. Then, with a look so
cold and so terrible that many had often called her the "Ice Queen" on her
ships, she forced open Ebba's mouth and cut out her tongue with a swift,
clean slice of her blade.

Ebba didn't know how to read or write. Cutting out the woman's tongue had
ensured she was incapable of spreading gossip any further. Ebba was not
allowed to leave the house or linger with the other servants. She lived a
solitary life in eternal silence.

Behind her, was a man.

Writer: Uruvion
Date Wed Oct 7 13:49:24 2015

Writer: Tanaal
Date Thu Oct 8 13:57:28 2015

To All Abaddon Tifara Phylara Deccan Chlaus Rhyane ( Imm RP Religion Necrucifer Fatale Kwars )

Subject Blood on Thin Ice

Rain beat down from the sky. Rivulets of runoff mixed with the brackish
waters that stagnated in ponds of decay along the roadsides. The clopping
of hooves, the creaking of wood, and the clunking of wagon wheels against
the cobblestone muffled against the sibilant hush of the rain shower. A
fork of lightning streaked across the sky, startling the horses in front of
the wagon, causing them to rear up briefly before kicking up their legs
faster. Under a soaked hood, Tanaal pulled on the reigns to steady the
horse team in. "Whoaah! " he called out, "Steady! Steady!"

The wagon overshot the morgue by a few meters, but perhaps it was better
this way, Tanaal thought, as now he could guide the wagon backwards to make
way for the new "acquisition"...

The undertaker looked up as the bell that hung over the door rang from the
bar striking across it. "Welcome... May I help you? " he asked quietly.
Tanaal immediately turned his back to the undertaker, heading out just a
step or two before backing in again, trying to drag something along.
"Please, close the d-" the untertaker started, before his eyes went wide.
Flapping his lips silently, the undertaker mouthed out, "Giant" after Tanaal
managed to drag the wheeled stretcher that was hatched inside the wagon into
the viewing room.

"Don't just sit there like a corpse, help me
!" Snarled Tanaal to the
undertaker, who came quickly to his aid so that Tanaal could close the door
to keep the rain from coming in. "Where? How...? " started the
undertaker. "Don't ask, just do what you're told. This is official Cult
business. Help me get this into the morgue!" Barked Tanaal. The mortician
stumbled in from the doors beyond the viewing room, bloodied apron and all,
grunting, "What is All this yelling ab-" but it was of no consequence when
Tanaal hissed sinisterially to the mortician, and the mortician saw what was
at hand. Joining the fray, the trio took to the overburdened stretcher,
moving the corpse of Derius into the morgue.

"Undertaker!" Tanaal snapped, "Go to the Inquisitor! Tell her I have need
for the Black Chalice..."

Writer: Trihp

Date Thu Oct 8 15:32:49 2015

To All Fynix Eszka Meki Edyssa Dragon Arkane Imm *RP*

Subject Will You Make It Home? *P1*

His birthday party was still lingering in Trihps memory. It took a
little while for him to understand the party was for him, yet the reason as
to why still seemed confusing. There had been no activity since that would
spring forth an answer. Everyone had been gone back to normal. His
parents, spending time teaching him the basics of life and keeping most of
his attention on feeling loved. There was still a few things off over the
last few weeks. Things had changed, his parents although never exclusive,
didnt seem to feel like the couple they had been. Something had changed
when Eszka started spending so much time with the elf, Lothaw. She acted
just a little different toward Fynix, enough to make Trihp suspicious, and
he knew he didnt like it.

His friends had gone back to normal. Meki, his adopted daughter Edyssa. A
couple of the hostesses at the Phoenix Hoard. Whatever had happened to
cause the party, seemed to have vanished just as quickly as it had came.
Something had changed still, he couldnt put a finger on it. Yet, Trihp
could feel people treating him differently. His diaper had been replaced
with overalls and strict explanation of what to do now that he wasnt a
flying bathroom. There seemed to be more expectations. Less help with the
smaller things, it was just expected that he could now do some of the
trivial things himself. He wasnt sure he liked that much either.

There was then the feeling that had started to take root inside, with that
boost of confidence that he could manage some of these tasks, came inside a
assurance. They might be on to something that he was more then able to do
what he needed in the world. Turning one had been a rather big step and he
didnt know what to make of it.

He didnt know what to make of it. The forest near his dads house was easy
to escape to taking the upstairs balcony out of the master bedroom. It was
a good place to explore, to take his action dolls on short trips flapping
his powerful wings to keep them airborne. The Trihp of a few weeks ago,
might be afraid to travel past the walls of Arkane, he knew very well what
waited outside. What still remembered him, much the same he remembered it.
The Baby Red Dragon, just as he had been growing he knew it would have much
the same. Last he met the beast, it had doubled in size and was almost as
large as a small house. He could only imagine how big it would have become
by now. That was part of the problem, he imagined the creature. He still
dreamt of it, and when no one was around he would even brave pretending his
wemic doll was the powerful red.

Swooping low to the ground, Trihp came land in a clearing in the forest.
His tiny yellow overalls sliding across the bottom in the lush green grass.
It was afternoon, and the Algoronian sun was bright and hot in the sky over
the tree tops. Jutting his tongue in and out he gibbered about his elf
dolls discovery. Obviously, some ancient and powerful relic had been
spotted in their flight. Taking a blue diamond from inside his overalls he
rewarded the elf for his advancement. There was a silence in the forest,
and part of Trihp knew what that meant. Hed felt it many times before. He
felt it anytime the Red Dragon had been around. Part of him also knew it
was the reason hed come to the forest that day. As he had grown in courage
he also grew in wanting that rush that only came from danger. That only
came by facing his greatest fear.

Writer: Trihp

Date Thu Oct 8 15:35:37 2015

To All Fynix Eszka Meki Lothaw Edyssa Dragon Arkane Imm *RP*

Subject Will You Make It Home? *P2*

It was not bushes that rattled, or branches of trees that shook this
time. This time it was the entire tree that quaked in the coming of the
dragon. It had again coupled in size, Trihp knew that just from when its
huge snout snaked between a pair of tree trunks at the edge of the clearing.
Its lurking shoulders plowing across the sides of the trees, shaking them
from the base, and sending splinters of wood in defeat of its strong
hardening scaled body. It was charging, and Trihp could only just become
airborne in time to dodge the first toothy snap of his giant jaws. He was
now easily tw stories in height, his body two wagons pushed together. He
moved faster then a creature his size should.

Trihps heart fell away, realizing hed left the elf doll in his panic, and
what was worse, the blue diamond! He couldnt think like that now. Hot
flames licked his bare feet, as the giants wings exploded breaking thick
limbs from the trees. For Trihp his size was a blessing, and he was able to
zip and zag his way up through the trees, fast enough to get a short head
start on the beast. He could his Fynixs house, he loved it there, it was
where he had his family, where he Eszka and Fynix would All sleep together,
be together. Now he had his own room, his mother her own, that hed seen the
elf in. Lothaw sat on the end of the bed next to them.

His heart beat likea hummingbird and his wings did their best to keep up
with him. The growling snorts of the dragon blasting small bursts of flame
that Trihp only managed to stay out of reach from for a moment. His house,
his home, it continued to grow in size. He didnt like the elf sitting on
his moms bed, because she wasnt suppose to have this new bed. The balcony,
into the master bedroom. It was a sign of safety, it was salvation, and
Trihps body slammed into the partially open double door. He only came to a
thudding stop as he hit the large bed.

Dread filled his whole tiny body. A blast so bright, his tiny eyes blinked
and fluttered for protection. Heat so strong he could feel it sting his
skin. Fire, and an exploding crumbling of the balcony from the side of the
house. The dragon had sent a hot molten stream of flame down onto the side
of the house. Many of the house attendants, gardeners rushed to stop the
flame from taking the whole building down. Trihp could see the red,
hovering outside, he knew the beast could see him. If it wanted its giant
claws could have shredded, and gut the bedroom to get the tiny Ariel.
Instead they clutched his elf doll and Trihp could see the glint of the blue
diamond. No, it had been playing a game. Trihp knew if he could put it
into words the would have been called, Will You Make It Home?

Writer: Tanaal

Date Fri Oct 9 01:12:14 2015

To All Abaddon Tifara Phylara Deccan Chlaus Rhyane ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Necrucifer Fatale Kwars )

Subject Blood on Thin Ice (Part 2)

Lording over the body, the mortician licked his lips. "What will we be
doing with this... Specimen, Ritualist?" The mortician eagerly inquired.
Tanaal leaned over both hands planted on the stretcher, surveying the body,
"I am not a doctor, I'm a mathematician. But, scientific rigor demands that
we begin with embalmment and dissection. However, time is short. We will
be doing something a little different..." Tanaal peered about the room, and
pointed out to a larger morgue drawer, "This drawer was meant for giant
ogres, yes? We'll put the specimen in there, and keep it cold until we make
more preparations."

The duo clumsily hefted the body of the frost giant Derius into the giant
ogre-classed drawer, folded the body's arms across the heart, and slid the
drawer shut. Tanaal huffed from finishing the task, and turned to the
mortician, "Can we set aside some ritual space? Preferably, if there is a
depression in the ground? I need a place for the specimen to be
submersible." The mortician scratched his head, smearing blood from earlier
work over it haphazardly, "I haven't the foggiest..." Tanaal sneered and
chastised the mortician, "A pit! I need a ritual space and a pit!"

The mortician peered about, snapping his gaze left, right, and over his
shoulder rapidly. In anxiety, he nervously replied, "Ah, perhaps, the
cemetary would be better suited for that task?" Tanaal raised his hand
across his body, ready to slap the mortician across his flabby face with the
back of his hand, his teeth gritted in anger and frustration. The mortician
reared back and cowered placing his hands up defensively, whining, bracing
for impact... But the strike never connected. Slowly, the mortician opened
his eyes to see the hand still raised, but the anger gone from Tanaal's
face. "Yes," Tanaal hissed, "Yes, that might... Actually do better... For
the last steps. We still need to make preparations." Tanaal's hand lowered
to lock with the other behind his back.

Tanaal began to pace, muttering, "You will fetch materials for me,
mortician." The mortician lowered his defenses, still anxious as he asked,
"... Didn't you send out the undertaker for the task?" Tanaal raised his
hand once more to threaten the mortician, and the mortician flinched again.
"Time is short!" Snapped Tanaal, "Find me a large, fresh linen for use as a
death shroud, and a separate large linen, three meters in diameter! When
the undertaker returns with the Black Chalice, fetch me from the cemetary!"

Tanaal's raised hand lowered slowly, fingers curling into claw shapes and
eventually gripping tightly until his knuckles turned a pale shade. "Soon,
Abaddon..." He hissed, "Sssoon..."

Writer: Tanaal

Date Fri Oct 9 05:45:21 2015

To All Abaddon Tifara Phylara Deccan Chlaus Rhyane ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Necrucifer Fatale Kwars )

Subject Blood on Thin Ice (Part 3)

The chipping away at soil and rock was rhythmic, as the drudge skeletons
performed their labors without complaint. A large hole, four by one meters
large and two meters deep, made ample space for its soon-coming occupant.
Skeletons huddled over each other in the corner, creating something of a
macabre step-ladder of bone from each other that they climbed as they hauled
soil in buckets away from the hole. With heavy footsteps and heaving
breath, the mortician clutched at his chest as he lumbered towards Tanaal.
"Sir--*huff*--sir, the undertaker has returned with the Black Chalice!
What--*gulp, huff*--what shall we do now? *huff*"

Arms folded behind his back and glowering over the pit that was dug, Tanaal
turned on his heels to address the mortician. "Excellent work. The drudges
will garrison this plot. Have you procured the linens?" Said Tanaal. The
mortician leaned back, chin facing the sky and breathing in deeply. He
buckled over again, nearly keeling over his knees, huffing, "*hah* Yes,
*sniff* Yessir..." Tanaal beamed a sinister grin and said, "Good, good! We
must make haste. The body won't last forever. You and the undertaker will
keep the three-meter linen taut as I draw upon it. After that, you will
embalm the frost giant with blood from the Black Chalice, and wrap it in the
shroud. We will then make our way to the cemetary with the body."

Huffing and nodding, the mortician turned about face, and hobbled toward
Marius Undertaking, albeit at a more relaxed pace. Tanaal snapped his
fingers, and the drudges turned their skulls to attention. "Look alive,
everyone," Tanaal mused ironically to his work team, "... It's showtime!"

Writer: Tanaal

Date Fri Oct 9 06:29:45 2015

To All Abaddon Tifara Phylara Deccan Chlaus Rhyane ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Necrucifer Fatale Kwars )

Subject Blood on Thin Ice (Part 4)

The placement of the hole made performance of the ritual tricky... A
contingency that Tanaal miscalculated. But he would not be deterred. He
had the power of magic now, unlike before when he had to overcompensate by
bending his brain almost to the point of breaking just to find solutions.
The corpse of Derius lay in the hole, covered in a shroud, with a gravestone
marked with the symbols of Necrucifer and Fatale within intricate geometries
written in blood looming over the grave. Tanaal raised the Black Chalice to
the sky, now since stopped raining, but still with a wet breeze wafting the
scent of worms and mud through the air. "The smell of decay, " thought
Tanaal, "good. This makes for perfect conditions... "

"Necrucifer! Father of Darkness! Necrucifer! Absolute Shadow!
Necrucifer! He who is without light! Praise be unto you! Bestow upon me
your eldritch authority, that I may command this transformation in your
grace! In your honor, I desecrate this frost giant, that he may be made
anew into an instrument of horror and terror! "

Tanaal lowered the Chalice, and brought the blood to his lips, imbibing a
copious mouthful from it. Raising one hand in front of him and fretting his
fingers, a floating disk of energy materialized beside him. He placed the
Black Chalice onto the disk, and directed it to rest between two lanterns
that rested atop the gravestone. Tanaal fell to his knees upon the linen
sheet, carefully spread out upon the ground like a picnic setting, where he
rested upon an intricate, blood-drawn circle of protection, circumscribed by
words of protection written in Shalonesti Elvish. He raised his hands to
the sky...

"Ph'n'ghft, uln kadishtu! In blood, finality! "

The wind began to pick up some, carrying upon it the sickeningly sweet smell
of burning flesh where once there was the smell of worms and mud.

"Ph'n'ghft, uln kadishtu! In blood, finality! "

The sound of bubbling came from the Black Chalice. Blood spatterings
stained the top of the gravestone as the slow fulmination of the cursed
blood began to froth.

"Ph'n'ghft, uln kadishtu! In blood, finality! "

The wind stopped. Even the crows in the distance stopped. Tanaal began to
hear a faint throbbing, but was not sure if it was from the dark
consecration, or if it was just his own head...

Writer: Tanaal

Date Fri Oct 9 06:51:38 2015

To All Abaddon Tifara Phylara Deccan Chlaus Rhyane ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Necrucifer Fatale Kwars )

Subject Blood on Thin Ice (Part 5)

"Ph'n'ghft, uln kadishtu! In blood, finality! "

At last, the Black Chalice began to spill over, spreading its bounty of
blood and seeping into the grave where it slowly began to fill the hole.
Tanaal stopped intoning once he bore witness to the effect, keeping his
hands raised in approbation to the Darkness.

Within minutes, the grave was filled completely with a pool of blood.
Tanaal let his arms fall, and faced the sky, intoning once again,

"Ph'n'ghft, uln kadishtu! In blood, finality! "


The pool of blood itself began to ripple in a rhythmic pulsing, as if a
heart beat far below it. After a dozen beats, the blood began to bubble,
obscuring any activity below.

Rain began to pitter, washing away the blood spatters on top of the grave
and at the edges of the hole. The boiling and rippling stopped. The blood
began to drain.

"Glory and approbation unto you, Necrucifer! May this day be forever marked
in dark jubilation! "

The blood seeped completely into the soil, and marked the end of the ritual.
Tanaal quickly scampered to his feet, and carefully let himself down into
the hole, where the body of Derius lay wrapped in a blood-soaked shroud.
"This... This is it! It must be!" Stammered Tanaal, as he curled his
wrist and fingers around the trigger of his bladeshark, extending a blade.
Carefully, he cut at a taut section of the cloth, and after retracting the
blade, tore open the shawl to behold what lay beneath...

"No... NO! This cannot be! What work of Devion is this!? NOOO! "
shrieked Tanaal. Drudge skeletons huddled nearby to the sound of distress
of Abaddon's own, surveying for danger but only finding the disgruntled elf.
Tanaal buckled over the corpse, laying his head on his arms over it, and
whined. Change was what he sought. Change was what he yielded. But all
was not right, nor was it fair.

After more anxious glowering over the corpse of the transmuted
fire-nee-frost giant, Tanaal snapped his fingers, signalling the drudges to
huddle into a climbable pile for him. "Drudges...!" Tanaal called out,
"... Bury this failed experiment."

Writer: Skyleia

Date Sat Oct 10 01:23:48 2015

Writer: Nierwyld

Date Sat Oct 10 09:23:05 2015

To All Tyrinx Conclave Atlantos Imm Kantilles RP Religion

Subject Flying the Banner : A Pixilating Tale

Acrid smoke rolled from the deck as the musical sound of All the blades
echoed off the ship and across the water. The roar of the battle cries
joined in with the steel, completing the battle opera.

Nierwyld stood on the slumped over body of the navigator, looking out over
the junker. The battle was nearing its end, his men mopping up quickly,
pushing the leftover defenders to the railings.

"Captain Foxrun! They be goin' down an' the ship be ours, ser! ", his
first mate reported, coming up to his side.

Nierwyld nodded, looking over the deck, frowning at those few that were from
his crew. He'd be writing letters tonight.

"Hurry and finish 'em off, matey, so we can be takin' our loot and heading

"Aye aye, Capt.. ", his sentence cut off as a ball of fire took him in the
face, his body stilling before it even hit the deck.

Looking up Nierwyld saw the mage and his body guard standing up within the
rigging, scrambling now to the crows nest. The pixie's body went cold as he
took off up the rigging, blood trailing down behind him from his blades.
Fireball and bolts of lightning came after him from the mage, striking
rigging as he nimbly ducked and weaved through it.

He came up over the lip of the nest, his blade barely able to turn back the
other. The man stepped back, holding his arms out wide. 'Come to me little
pixie bug, I keel you quickly, yes. Not feel a thing, no.

Nierwyld started to come forward, but dodged out of the way as a fireball
came out of no where, nearly searing him where he was.

The man grinned. 'Oh yes. Me little captain be quite.. Smart, yes? He is
here too! Not just me. Can yee take us both? Maybe not, pixie bug! Now
come, let us dance and you will die! FOR THE WARP!

Nierwyld met his blades, flitting around to try and score a mark against his
opponent. The man was fast, the edges of his blade coming close enough that
Nierwyld could almost feel it grazing his skin.

*to be continued*

Writer: Carrionmaw

Date Tue Oct 13 08:50:09 2015

Writer: Theya

Date Wed Oct 14 11:57:55 2015

To All - Siccara Necrucifer Religion Roleplay

Subject No Going Back

"A single drop, he said. I know not where he gathered yours from. If,
by some treachery he took what did not belong to him, I will shred you to
ribbons and scatter your pieces across the corners of this world."
tall, dark figure stepped close to her, then, staring down at her with eyes
so cold that they burned as they took in her features. "We will see how
immortal you truly are."


Kneeling within the temple to Necrucifer, west of her new home of New
Thalos, Theya allowed the events of the morning to play before her mind's
eye. She sat in a numb sort of disbelief, her head bowed before the demonic
statue, her hands resting in her lap. It had been decades since she had
spent so long without her mask hiding her features, but she had discarded it
at the oasis with no intention of returning for it. She was done with
hiding from the eyes of the heavens, and the underworld. She was done
chasing her past.

Oddly, it was in that choice that she had learned more about it, and the
events that had guided her to her odd predicament in life. For years, she
had assumed it was harmless, what her mentor had done, but in light of the
dark man's words, there could be no mistaking the risk she was now in. Not
for her mortal form, because her body's pain had long since lost meaning to
her, but to her soul. If she died, now, she did not know what would happen
to her, where she would serve. Was there even a place for those in between?

Sighing deeply, she lifted eyes that were the color of old moss, flecked
with whiskey to the statue. It was hot in the temple, and the wind from the
desert carried dust and sand with it, which settled on the floor, and on the
bones that were embedded in the walls like a twisted form or mortar. If
there was any place to do what had to be done, then it was likely here.

"I pity you, mortal. You will find no mercy should you fail me."

Spurred on by the heft of the words spoken by the man she had chosen to
confide in, she steeled herself and began to write on parchment she had
taken from the pit in New Thalos. It would be the last time she wrote such
words. There was no going back.

Writer: Meladee

Date Thu Oct 15 01:07:49 2015

Writer: Simani

Date Thu Oct 15 09:40:19 2015

To All Abaddon ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Fatale )
Subject The Center of the Bog (Part 1)

In the dark of the night, the bookworm sat silent in the bogs. She had
finished writing hours ago; her usual excuse for these excursions a mere
facade for the true purpose: peace and quiet. Curled amongst the roots of
an aged and gnarled tree, a stake in one hand and book in the other, Simani
simply sat in silent repose, drinking in the quiet susurrus. Still as the
night and quiet as the shadows.

It was in this state of sedate relaxation that the will'o'wisp found her;
such was often the case with her queer companion. While she scribed, it
would stay far away, occasionally visible dancing through the mists; only
when she settled would it come near. She had gotten used to the game; there
were rules to it, though she'd be hard pressed to name them all. If she
ignored it, it would grow tired of her and flee; if she tried to look at it
directly, it would vanish on the spot. The challenge, as she had found, was
to pay some small attention to the flittering ball of light, to watch it
from the corner of her eye; to acknowledge it without rousing herself from
that state of peaceful rest. To let it exist without letting it claim the
full of her attention. It was a game she had gotten quite good at.

As her companion flit about her head, abiding by the peculiar rules of their
arrangement, Simani's attention turned southwards, towards the walls of
Abaddon. Old and battered and well-used, the city was beginning to resemble
the swampy bogs that surrounded it. It had the charm of a masoleum; the
delicate grace of crumbling masonry and strong, time-worn structures. Not
for the first time, she wondered how that dark city looked when it first
rose from the swamps. Was it always in such a state of perpetual
half-decay? Or did the city shine through the mists? Somehow, she thought
it might be the first. It had a certain air to it. A certain pomp that was
impossible to deny.

At the corner of her eye, the will'o'wisp bobbed and danced, the graceful
motions catching her attention. From the corner of her eye she could see
the thing twist and turn, each motion ethereal and beautiful. The colored
rays of light shifted and changed as it danced, shimmering with majestic
light. Blues and cyans and reds and greens, twisting and churning, never
two colors at the same time... And yet never one, either. Impossible to
define or explain. Unbidden, her head began to turn, a smile on her lips as
she moved to regard the vain little visitor. By the time she realized what
she was doing, it was gone, vanishing back into the mists, back into the
dark void that always stole it away from her sight.

A moment of chagrin touched her, reflected across her face. She had lost
again, outwitted by something so simple, so straightforward, as a ball of
light. A lost soul. There was no true disappointment or annoyance, of
course; not many would sit silently for hours alone with a mute happily
half-ignoring them. Not many would put up with her. But it was good to
know that there were some.

Oh well. Dawn was approaching anyway. The diminutive woman gathered her
books and straightened. Back to work.

Writer: Theya

Date Thu Oct 15 12:14:06 2015

To All - Necrucifer Siccara Religion Roleplay

Subject Burning the Past

Theya crouched in the woodlands west of Althainia, her skin coated in a
thin layer of mud and a long spear with a cross guard in her grasp. She had
managed to locate some leather armors, and while they would not give her
much against her prey, they certainly protected her flesh from the burrs and
brambles, and insulated better than the robe she had been wearing. Her
eyes, so expressive in their shift of colors, reflected the shades of the
mud on her body and while outwardly she appeared calm and focused, her
insides were anything but.


Your past, the trials you have endured do not make you strong. They make
you weak.

The words had struck her deeply, and had made her question, briefly, her
entire understanding of life and servitude. Her mind struggled to accept
the concept that All she had gone through had done nothing except litter her
soul, her being and pervert her ability to see clearly. She bit back the
natural response to defend herself, and her actions, and instead forced
herself to read the letter over and over.

You once knew purpose. You once knew Truth. You once served God, and it
was your past that turned your mind and soul away from Him.

It hurt less than she thought it would when she accepted that her actions
were her own, and that it was her own weakness and desire for something
familiar that had brought upon her shame. The more she reflected on her
history, the more she was unsettled, and one of the lessons priests tended
to favor was that inner turmoil clouded the ability to see clearly.

That which bound you to your past life must be fed into the fire until
nothing remains but His Will.

But how did she do that? How did she forget the memories of who she was,
and where she had come from? How did she "feed the fire" with the essential
concepts of what had shaped her into who she was so that she could be born
anew, molded anew?


The sound of faint grunting and shuffling brought Theya's attention back to
the present and she carefully shifted her eyes to her right. She could make
out a wild boar, an older male, coming along the trail she had found. As he
tripped the wire that caused a branch to fall over the path behind him,
Theya leapt from her cover and steadied the spear, waiting for the boar to
impale himself.

Later, Theya dropped the corpse of the boar at the feet of the statue of the
demon within the temple of Necrucifer west of New Thalos. The bones could
be weapons and adornments, the hide would create warmth in the approaching
winter, the meat could be smoked and last her for nearly a fortnight, and
the innards could be used for other tools and food. She remembered
everything her father had taught her about not wanting or wasting as she set
the carcass on fire, then stepped back and kneeled to pray.

"Like a sword without care, I have broken and tarnished, becoming useless.
I pray now for Your gaze, God, to fall upon me and heed my pleas. Cast me
into Your fires that the metal of my core will be melted and allowed to be
forged anew into an image You see fit. Burn away the impurities and the
past, and create once more a weapon that strikes in Your Glorious Name, this
I beg of you, Necrucifer.

Writer: Andreyna

Date Thu Oct 15 20:54:55 2015

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Laendyn Tief Zandreya Zypher Imm Rp Religion

Subject -The Balance of Life-

Andreyna Sha'enlas sat upon her knees within the gardens of the Lady
Zandreya. Her hands dug at the fresh rich soil before her, moving the
compost around, creating a hole. Reaching into the cloth pouch next to her,
she pulled out a seed of a bluebonnet, carefully placing it inside the
freshly dug hole. She covered it gently with the soil, careful not to pack
it down too tightly. Sitting back on her heels, she smiled as she examined
her work. Over a dozen bluebonnets have been lovingly planted by the
Deacon. Soon tiny flowers would break free from the soil, blooming into a
vibrant cobalt plant, further enhancing the beauty of the Mother's new
garden temple.

The Deacon nodded at the young human boy sitting next to her, he picked up a
watering can and began to sprinkle the freshly planted seeds with droplets
of water. Andreyna nodded and smiled as she spoke to him in the Common
language, 'Very good.. Only a sprinkle is needed, just enough to wet the
soil. A perfect balance.
' The flaxen-haired child beamed proudly as he
walked down the length of the flower bed, sprinkling the water All over.
'Too much and the plant shall drown.. Too little and the poor seeds shall
dry up. '

Andreyna nodded in agreement, smiling as she watched the child happily
sprinkle the water about. 'You are exactly right, ' she continued, The
planting of seeds is a very good example of the need for balance.
' The
shalonesti elf sat back onto her bottom crossing her legs as she spoke, 'The
plants must have a certain amount of water and sunlight... It must have a
perfect balance.
' 'These little bluebonnets must not have too much water,
they will drown, and perhaps wash away, never being able to take root.
' she continued, 'If they receive too little water, they will not
receive the nourishment they need. They will dry out, they will suffer and

The small boy finished watering the plants and joined Andreyna, listening to
her lesson. 'They must also have the correct amount of sunlight. The
plants will grow tall, reaching toward the sun, so the warmth and light of
the sun are needed to ensure growth.
' The boy nodded, his tiny hand
smoothing his blonde hair out of his eyes. 'But.. If the plants receive
too much sunlight, this can cause a problem.. The water will recede, the
plants will not receive the proper nourishment.. And like with little
water, the plants shall shrivel and die. They will not last in the world.

The boy nodded, understanding what the priestess was saying. 'So we should
be like the plants..?
, He asked of the elf Queen. 'Exactly right, little
', Andreyna said with a smile. 'Like these plants.. The world is in
need of a balance.. It cannot have too much light.. The Sun.. For it will
dry up.. It will wither and die away.
Andreya picked up the watering can,
'Nor can it have too much water.. The darkness.. Pouring upon it.. For it
will drown.. And wash away.

The small child bit his bottom lip, thinking as she listened to the
priestess' words, 'It is very hard.. Isn't it? To find that perfect
' Andreyna placed the watering can back upon the ground, 'It
certainly is.. Being of the balance is to me, the most difficult of paths.
We must try to walk with the light.. And with the darkness.. We must have
a little of both.. But not too much.

Andreyna leaned over onto her knees once more, her hands digging into the
soil creating another small hole. 'It is easy to provide the world with
warmth and rays of sunlight.. Or to perhaps pour water continuously upon
it.. But to find that perfect balance.. That is a true.. And very
important challenge.. If All are too survive.

Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Oct 15 20:59:57 2015

Writer: Simani

Date Fri Oct 16 21:35:08 2015

To All Abaddon Takeri Zola ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Fatale )
Subject An Unwanted Discourse (Part 2)

'I do not know. I have not the family.' Takeri said softly.

She was speaking with Zola, the masked bishop of Fatale. The subject was on
discipline and child rearing, or perhaps it was on spoiling children with
gifts. Honestly, Simani hadn't been paying attention. As usual, she was
more directly involved in the book before her. Reading this time, rather
than writing. The book in her lap was one dedicated to the mysteries
tangled up with the Coven's work. Old and faded, written generations
before, it was a far better source of information than the ritualist's

'You are part of one now.' Zola's response. As certain and calm as All of
his words, it was spoken in soft and quiet tones. It reminded Simani of a
teacher educating a rather dense pupil; the thought made her half-smile, at
least until she realized that the same debate could be had with her, as
well. She missed Takeri's reply, torn between reading and introspection.

On the one hand, the book sat before her, the sentences begging to be read.
On the other hand sat a bundle of turmoil and strife and confusion and
emotion. She would like to have thought that the temptations and
distractions were equal in nature, but she had read the same line four times

'There is no one who loves pain itself, who seeks after it and wants to have
it, simply because it is pain...

Everyone within Abaddon was family, in some way, shape, or form. Most of
the time, it was in the literal sense. The Inquisitor was married to the
Wizard and related to the Executioner, who in turn was married to Takeri,
and in turn, in turn, in turn. It was a strange and conveluted thing,

For her, at least, they were not family; not quite. She had found herself
friends aplenty, to be sure; one who courted her and others who protected
her. They accepted her, and let her near enough to be useful. She shared
in their joys, and she shared in their sorrows. But always to a lesser
extent. Being broken did that to a person; left them apart, aloof. And
whatever else might be said of the mute, she was clearly broken.

'Vyasa and you will marry, yes?'

The words took her by surprise. It read across her face in burning cheeks
and a slack jaw. Within, it was complete and utter shock. How was she
supposed to know? She gawked at Takeri, helpless, her mouth opening and

That question.

It was too much for her. With All the grace of a frightened gazelle, Simani
fled the garden. In her haste, she felt the spine of the aged book crack,
the pages crumble a little more as she pushed it into her bag.

Her feet fought valiently to outpace the question, the conversation. They
sped away from the garden, from the streets and the others of Abaddon. Sped
away to her usual place, so silent and secluded.

She felt more foolish than upset at her own response as she settled in
within her usual spot. Alone at last.

Well, nearly alone, anyway.

Writer: Simani

Date Fri Oct 16 22:44:46 2015

To All Abaddon Takeri Zola ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Fatale )
Subject The Center Of The Bog (Part 3)

Simani closed her eyes, banishing the sight of the will'o'wisp for the
moment. She needed to breathe. To compose herself. A simple discussion of
family shouldn't leave her frantic. The realization that she had none
shouldn't leave her desolate. Logically, she knew this.

Nothing she had thought was revelation.

It was a path she had already walked a thousand times over. She had
distanced herself from emotion with each journey, growing used to the vacant
looks and confused stares from those around her. The solitude was natural.
An effect of her condition. The price for her books and her memory and her
hands was her voice; she had always seen it as such, and she was quite
comfortable without one.


For some reason, the simple conversation had touched off a spiral of
emotions that she couldn't shake. Even now, surrounded by the bogs and
accompanied by an indifferent companion, she could feel the dull echo of
that sudden and inexplicable turmoil. Such outbursts were infrequent. It
should not have happened. The fact that it did troubled her greatly. She
had caused those of Abaddon enough trouble when she had brought the
arrogance of a possessive beast to their doorstep. She would not cause them
more with her own erratic moodiness and uncontrollable emotions. She would
sooner die.

This was not her. She would not live this way, controlled by a moment's
infirmity. She had promised as much when she had walked away from the
desert jewel, hadn't she?

She would grow strong. She would make herself worthwhile. This was not
her. This was not right. This would not stand.

Slowly, deliberately, Simani let her eyelids open, her chestnut eyes
significantly calmer. That mischievous ball of light still dancing near the
edge of her vision, calling attention to itself with what she could only dee
a mindless and instinctive need. 'Pay attention,' it seemed to say without
saying a word, 'but not too much.' As always, she obliged. The emotions
faded; the anger and fear and pain receded. She was left, detached,
watching the ever-moving orb as it sought entertainment, attention.

The small bookworm examined the dancing light with curiosity, her eyes
roaming across it. It didn't fade, didn't diminish. Didn't flee. For long
moments, she took in that otherworldly glow, the beauty of the unnatural
bringing her back to her usual state of tranquil serenity. At some point,
it stopped moving. She wasn't certain when, only that it did. No longer
bouncing or dancing, it simply hovered, gyrating in place.

And then it was gone.

Writer: Theya

Date Sat Oct 17 22:50:15 2015

To All - Necrucifer Siccara Religion Roleplay

Subject The Hardest Part

"We All lay things before Him in sacrifice. Our blood, our lives, our
deaths, they are All nothing. To serve Him is the only reward. Sublimate
any desires of your own, feed them into the fires of your devotion, stoking
it... All souls belong unto Him. You must pray to Him for release from
Siccara's influence. Cast her aside and accept His will, His plan for you.
Allow him to consume your soul, leaving nothing but His darkness."

"What can I do? My hands are idle and I have little to fill them with, and
only so many prayers I can speak before my mind simply goes blank. Tell me
there is some physical task I can partake in that would be worthy?"

A low, dark chuckle filled her ears before the words followed.

"This is the way of repentance. You knew it would not be an easy path when
you sought me. But perhaps there is something you can do to occupy yourself
between prayers while your voice is hoarse from lamentation. Make yourself
into a weapon worthy of Him. You killed once when you turned your back on
Siccara. I would have you do so again, apostate."

"You are right. I was holding back still in hopes of joining the Keep when
all is said and done, but as you had me remove the sash, so should I cast
away any expectations. I will train and find the physical strength I once

"Not with sword or spear, but with your own two hands. Find a soul, one
innocent and vibrant and offer it unto Him in sacrifice."

Raw. Panic.

It slammed into her hard, robbing her of her ability to breathe as a cold
sweat broke out on her brow and neck and her heart fluttered and skipped as
if it had forgotten how to work. Her first instinct was to run from the
Temple as tears pricked at her eyes, but she closed them and curled her
hands into fists at her side, forcing herself to breathe slowly, focusing on
the task.

Long inspiration.

Long expiration.

Again, and again, until the wave threatening to submerged her receded and
her mind ceased to play over and over the memory that haunted her most.

They spoke more, for a time. She confessed her hesitations and her fears,
the root of them. The voice explained so much to her, about service without
hesitation, about erasing the flaws that could again cause her to stumble.
The panic would not recede, and she did eventually leave the temple, walking
quickly through the night, nearly running, as she found a more open place to
breathe, to think.

She had known the path would be hard, but was she truly prepared, even after
all this time?

As she found her mind turning more toward whom would make a choice victim,
she felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, she was getting

Writer: Theya

Date Sun Oct 18 10:08:13 2015

To All - Siccara Necrucifer Religion Roleplay

Subject An Innocent Life

Rosalynna was clothed in a beautiful gown of sparkling silver and
crystal, her hair curled and styled with pearls and ribbons. She was
freshly bathed in waters that had been scented with oils of lavender and
roses, and her makeup held a hint of shimmer so that under the lights, she
glowed. Even without these things, the young woman was truly lovely.
People traveled from All over the world to hear the young angel sing, her
voice as pure and as sweet as the individual that gave life to the words and
melodies. Barely fourteen summers, Rosalynna was a rising star amongst the
world of the opera houses, and while not yet widely known, it was certain
her future was bright and full of shining hope and promising things.

The opera house was crammed full, the guests in their finest clothing,
showing off their most valuable jewelry in a sparkle of vibrant colors.
While the women had fans to keep themselves cool, the men unbuttoned vests
and removed gloves, sipping on liquors in crystal glasses that were filled
with a rare, precious commodity of highland ice. The murmur of the opera
house patrons was a dull roar as they waited for the opera to begin, and the
star to appear. When the orator finally appeared and introduced the opera,
and the curtains rose, the hush of the crowd was nearly as deafening as the
murmurs had been.


The opera had been a tremendous success, and after the third and final
night, it would be the last it was performed for at least a few years. The
gentle society did not care to see the same things too quickly or they would
become bored. Rosalynna kneeled not within her room, but within the chapel,
for not only was she beautiful, but she was gentle of spirit and devout of
nature - All she did, she did for her Goddess, Taliena. This was her habit,
her ritual, that after each performance, she would change and travel the
short distance to the Temple in Althainia and pray, cleansing her spirit and
renewing herself before laying down to sleep.

As she prayed, a woman appeared in the room, seemingly out of nowhere. She
was barely taller than Rosalynna, and had pretty mahogany hair that was
twisted and pinned up loosely. The woman smiled at the young sing, almost
sadly, and Rosalynna wondered for a moment if the woman was there to pray
for a lost loved one. As the woman simply went to one of the corners and
reached for an incense, Rosalynna bowed her head again and closed her eyes,
resolute that she would also pray for the woman with the sad eyes. After a
few minutes, she heard a voice come from over her shoulder.

The voice was curious, and full of caring, concern laced in every syllable.

"Are you here alone, young lady?"

Standing, Rosalynna turned, her heart reaching out to the woman in the
temple with her. She offered a warm smile and nodded her head as she
replied, "Yes, I like the peace when I come to give my praises to the
Goddess and thank Her for All She has given me."

The older woman smiled and nodded, as if understanding Rosalynna's desires,
but her next words sent a chill up Rosalynna's spine. Unfortunately, at
that point, it was too late.

"You should not have come alone."

Rosalynna struggled with All of her might against the hands that circled
around her throat, but they were surprisingly strong. She tried to call out
for help, but there was no getting her voice past those fingers. She cried,
she thrashed, but with time she lost her strength, and the last images she
saw were that of a pair of honey colored eyes no longer sad, but empty, and
of the candelabras of her beloved Goddess.

Writer: Theya

Date Sun Oct 18 10:34:57 2015

To All - Siccara Necrucifer Religion Roleplay

Subject An Innocent Life - The Aftermath

Theya carefully picked up the body of the young woman and cradled the
lifeless form within her arms. The girl was so small and thin that it was
barely a strain for her. She moved quickly and as a guard moved to
intervene, Theya flashed him a warm, disarming smile and shook her head,
keeping her voice low and unconcerned:

"My little sister, she's tuckered out. I'll take her home, thank you."

The guard chuckled and nodded, returning to his post.

Theya left the city through the west gate and traveled into the forest, her
skin breaking out into a sweat as she traveled with the burden in her arms.
Her muscles strained from the unaccustom burden of traveling with nearly her
own weight in her arms, and she made a small mental note that she needed to
return to her training; her form had grown soft over the years of idleness.

When Theya reached the part of the path where one could turn north and enter
a temple to Devion, she turned south instead and moved further into the
woods. Eventually, she came upon a clearing where a lumberjack had been
working. On one side, a stump had been pulled out of the ground years ago,
but the hole remained, and around it was a flourishing patch of wild
flowers. With gentleness, Theya laid the body in the hole and then picked
up a nearby shovel to begin filling in the hole.

The process took over an hour and by the time she finished, Theya was dirty,
drenched with sweat and her body trembled with the strain of it. The cool
night air kissed her skin and chilled her as she kneeled down and crafted a
simple marker, carving the young woman's name into a stone and placing it
over the center of the grave. As she placed the stone, she looked at the
deep scratches on her forearms and hands, already healing, slowly closing.
In another day or two, they would be completely gone - a gift of the blood
she carried within her.

Kneeling at the foot of the grave, Theya bowed her forehead to the ground,
the scent of the turned earth filling her nose as she closed her eyes.

"Master of Darkness, please accept this gift to You, of the young woman whom
now lays cold within the earth. She was so recently vibrant, full of life
in the Light, but now she dwells within Your Darkness, from which All things
came, and to which All things will return. May she find peace in Your
embrace. Glory to the Master of us all."

Rising, Theya grabbed a small item from the ground, which she had removed
from the young girl's person. She pocketed the ribbon after folding it with
care, and then made her way back to New Thalos and the bath house. Once she
cleansed herself and washed her clothes, she made her way south and settled
to rest and reflect.


She felt nothing.

The moment her fingers had wrapped around the young girl, the switch had
turned on, separating her heart and its memories from her mind and what she
had to do. It was just like the old days, and while she knew part of her
rejoiced in the reclamation of the vital tool, she simply closed her eyes
and let out a long breath.

She still had much to do.

Writer: Tanaal

Date Mon Oct 19 05:41:59 2015

To All Abaddon Chlaus ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Spellbound (Revisited): Between a Rock and a Hard Equation

The room in the Debauchery Arms was a far cry from the kind of elegance
Tanaal's ego typically demanded, knowing full well that someone who had
accomplished as much as he in such a short span of time deserved at least a
place where he didn't have to worry about something crawling out of the
mattress to bite him. But, for what he was there for, it sufficed. He
didn't need a moment of beauty right now. What he needed was a moment of
peace. A moment to himself.

Tanaal picked up his chalk and pressed a piece of chalk to a slate.

"Source of... Volume V, subset of R to the n of three... "

It was one of the few times that Tanaal finally had time to himself. He had
been so preoccupied with magical research that his math was beginning to
atrophy. He had to stay true to himself, and keep his prowess fresh.

The chalk clicked and hissed with every stroke across the slate. Tanaal
glanced at his abacus, pausing his writing and letting his mind drift a
little bit to contemplate on where he was in life, and what he was doing
with himself. His life no longer felt like is life was his own. He felt
pressured to perform, trapped by circumstance that the abilities and power
he had prayed for had wrought upon him.

He picked up his chalk and continued,

"... Considered to piecewise smooth boundary S, indicated by closed
manifold V equal to the boundary... "

His mind longed for a simpler time, back to the days when All he had to
worry about was his equations and plots of revenge for his naysayers. He
was motivated back then. He was weak, but constantly strove for something
stronger. Now, he had what he was looking for. He had the power he sought.
Why did he feel so empty? The chalk felt heavy to his arm, and empty to his
fingers... It was as if his very being wanted to deny that he was trying to
remember what he once was. He wanted to give in. He wanted to give up.

And why not? All his tribulations from once having absolutely no affinity
for magic disappeared the moment he performed his first blood ritual. Then,
the floodgates opened. He had every right to give up, now. He was a new
man. The first rush was exhilarating. Everything came so easily. His
troubles melted away to expediency through magic. His apotheosis was at
hand, and so too were the demands on his talents. He had become something
figurative of a golden goose.

"... Triple integral volume of quantity divergent vector by vector Field,
coupling differential of V... "

But he had to remember. He couldn't let himself go. He couldn't become
complacent. No, he would become useless, then. And the useless only find
oblivion in Abaddon. Even with All the wealth, power, and accolades he had
gained from his discoveries and raw talent, he was coming dangerously close
to sacrificing everything he had worked for on the altar of vanity. And he
couldn't have that...

"... Yeilds closed surface of quantity Field by outward N, by differential
of... "

It was a quaint trick, even by Tanaal's standards. It didn't state anything
other than the rate of fluid flow from one region to another while taking
into account the sinks in the flow region. It was just a formula. He
didn't even consider plotting values into the variables yet.

"... The boundary. "

Tanaal put down his slate, and walked over to his abacus, picking it up. He
slumped down on the bed, staring at the abacus. His fingertips glided over
the mahogany frame and the lapis lazuli beads along with his eyes, taking in
the experience of what it felt like to be a mathematician again. The beads
clicked with a languid flick of his fingers.

Placing the abacus down on the nightstand, Tanaal buried his face in his
hands. His crying harmonized perfectly with the wailing of the dead
throughout the city.

Writer: Tanaal

Date Mon Oct 19 07:48:22 2015

To All Abaddon Chlaus ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Spellbound (Revisited, II): The Limits of Approaching Infinity

"I gave you wings, you petulant welp. "

Tanaal wailed out in a panic as he realized how his grip on the edge of the
cliff was slipping. He had little time to note the blood-red sky,
fire-orange clouds, or the searing heat of the wind around him.

"You showed promise. You showed ambition. "

Looking up, and scrambling to reach his other hand to the cliff's edge,
Tanaal finally managed to catch a glimpse of the hooded figure overlooking
him. Immediately, he felt his hands clamp down tighter to the rocks, not
out of renewed strength, but out of the freeze of sheer terror coursing
through his body upon beholding the figure again since his first blood

"You became lazy, and now you want to play the victim? "

The voice of the hooded figure resonated with the wails of a thousand demons
heralding every syllable that berated Tanaal in his moment of weakness.

"I gave you the gift of power because you showed desire for it. "

A menacing boot plated in blackened metal and capped at the knee with what
looked like a demon's skull, with a live serpent weaving in and out of the
eye sockets no less, shuffled out from underneath the hooded figure's cloak.
The sole of the boot rested on Tanaal's fingers.

"I don't know what to do! I've never handled this kind of power before! "
Tanaal shouted, trying to be heard over the wind that was picking up. The
figure's boot pressed down onto Tanaal's fingers, forcing his grip to
release, but not before the figure leaned his whole weight into the step,
eff Tanaal's screams of pain were drowned out by wind, now starting to
shriek across his ears. The crunch of his joints thundered over the wind
like a storm as they were coaxed out of alignment from the step.

As his head thrashed back from the pain, he managed to catch more of a
glimpse of his surroundings. The precipice he hung over was growing in
depth, and the roping shape of a whirlwind snaked down into the abyss,
stirring up what looked to be a sea with swells the size of mountains.

"You've lost your desire? So then you don't care if you are tossed about by
circumstance? I can arrange that, you know... "

Writer: Tanaal

Date Mon Oct 19 09:24:20 2015

To All Abaddon Chlaus ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Spellbound (Revisited, III): Differentiation

The figure slowly leaned back, allowing Tanaal's weight to take to his
broken fingers. "No, my Master, no! Please! Dark Father, I--"

"You what? Beg of me? Like you did before? "

The serpent in the figure's boot sprung out from the eyesocket of the
kneecap, opening wide and half-swallowing Tanaal's arm. The fangs bore deep
into the flesh, and Tanaal felt the icy cold taint of coagulation spread
slowly from the bite. "I'll... I'll" stammered Tanaal, desperate to find
some way to salvation.

"You'll what? "

The desire. The drive. The ambition. Tanaal's mind raced as he
remembered, in a rush, what he was when he was weak. Or was he weak? Was
he simply spoiled by the conveniences of power? Was this a test to see if
he was worthy? If so, then it was painfully clear that he had angered the
one he served by letting his ardor fizzle, obscuring it in complacency.

"Time is running out, "mathematician," what will you do? "

The act of breathing felt like he was being impaled by ice as the venom
flowed, slowly creeping towards his laboring heart. In desperation, Tanaal
flicked open his bladeshark, thinking to strike at the serpent, and
positioning his free arm for the blow.

"Such bravado... But that's still not what will save you. "

Through the pain, Tanaal managed to concentrate again on the situation,
despite the venom slowly snuffing out his vitality. He was desperate to cut
off the flow of venom, and thought to sever his own arm with his bladeshark.

Cut off... The flow... Of the poison...!

The accolades. The wealth. The power. They were not the poison. The
loathing. The longing. That was the poison. The serpent was the poison.
The doubt was the poison. The regret was the poison. Tanaal looked up once
more, and the hood fell back on the figure. His eyes met with a reflection
of his own face.

"A gen-ius is a hap-py fel-low al-most All the time! " sang the
doppleganger mockingly down to Tanaal, in a voice not unlike his own, but
taking on the hellish quality of when the figure was cloaked.

"I... Move forward! "

In a blink, Tanaal immediately found himself standing on the cliff, leaning
on the fingers of his doppleganger and looking down at the pathetic
pretender, the panicking facsimile of who Tanaal truly was. Tanaal spoke
down to the figment of his self-loathing, in a voice unified of his own and
that of the Darkness, leaning back completely and releasing his step:

"I renounce you. "

In a cold sweat, Tanaal awoke. He rubbed his face, and opened his eyes,
noting two puncture marks on his bicep...

Writer: Tanaal

Date Tue Oct 20 05:54:17 2015

To All Abaddon Chlaus ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Spellbound: Apotheosis - Written in the Stars

It wasn't so much that there was a lack of places to write, but for
Tanaal, it would have felt more natural to compose his research on a surface
other than the marble sarcophagi of the tombs in the cemetary. Then again,
the ambience certainly set the mood, especially after the dream Tanaal had
of overcoming himself.

Huddled into a cramped mausoleum, aided only by a candle and a stick of
incense, Tanaal's hands furiously flew across parchments, both free and
bound. Page by page, planning, calculations, and arcane knowledge
accumulated into one indeterminate mess of effort. Tanaal rubbed his
temples. His eyes began to strain from the dim light of the candle.

Tanaal looked at his work, and began to shuffle the sheets, trying to find
an order to his efforts; anything to make sense of how he could move
. He had already performed the Ritual of Awakening Power that he had
discovered, All thanks to Necrucifer, of course. What more could he do?
What more power could he strive for?

The question burned into his mind, but it was a welcome departure from the
pressure of self-loathing he had experienced in the interim up to now. It
felt good to feel ambition fuel his desires again. He felt alive. But what
comes more? What comes beyond what he has?

Beyond what? Beyond life?

But the only thing beyond life was death. That, and immortality.

Perhaps it wasn't such a bad thought, Tanaal reasoned. After all, many
scholars and power-seekers alike strove for immortality. Few succeeded.
Even fewer held onto it. The few that did were already destined for it,
though, as the stars shone in their favor before they came into the realm.
Whether born of the stars, of the fire, of parents, or from the void, those
few that could claim dominion over their own lives beyond the reach of the
cycle of life and death already had the favor of the Gods.

But what about himself? What should Tanaal make of his destiny? Could he
not say that fate favored him as well? A genius in his own right, he was a
master of a science few could say they dared to explore. He had the
audacity to reach beyond his own life before, to acquire magical ability
when he had none. His fusion of logic and magic gave him an edge and
propelled him through the ranks in Abaddon's coven. Could he not claim the
same right of destiny?

Replacing an integer in his calculations, Tanaal grinned neurotically as his
equation panned out.

"To hold dominion over the twilight of the cycle... " he muttered,
finishing the last numbers, "The coin must land on its edge. "

Writer: Tanaal

Date Tue Oct 20 06:02:12 2015

To All Abaddon Chlaus ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Spellbound: Apotheosis (II) - Neurotic Asymptotic

To find a possibility outside the system. It was maddening! Tanaal knew
what it was like to face a logical challenge, but this was akin to insanity!
No matter how he changed the magnitude or order of ritual materials and
steps, the outcome was the same: The only way to straddle the barrier
between life and death is to break the barrier between life and death.

Tanaal growled and tore out the page, crumpling it up and throwing it into
the corner where a sizable pile was accumulating. The candle was nearly
flat, and he didn't want to lose his place in his calculations, or his place
in his thoughts. He had to think of a way to buy himself time.

Tanaal summoned his will. "Paghz, " he uttered in a long exhale. He tried
his best to quiet his mind, so that his concentration was not broken. He
heard the wind begin to slow, and saw the flicker of the flame slowly gyrate
like a Thalosian courtesan. He was in haste.

Again, Tanaal dipped his quill. Upon pulling, the ink followed the quill a
ways up with a small splash. Beads of ink slowly hurtled through the air.
Tanaal took his quil and brush-stroked the airborne beads, catching them
with the tip of the quill, and taking the tip down to the parchment. The
scritching left a small puff of steam from the ink boiling where the quill
met the parchment from the hasted friction.

Turning his attention again to the problem at hand, he considered what it
would take to break the barrier of life and death without giving in
completely to death. Why, that would require an additional force from
outside the system to work its way in, and stay in!

It was of no consequence of time to Tanaal when he paused to contemplate
where he heard of such a state before, due to his haste. What seemed like a
full minute of reflection took only seconds in realtime... That was not the
matter. The matter was that he realized exactly what it would mean to
straddle the barrier between life and death, while introducing something new
into the system.

His calculation was complete. Even though he knew not whether it was his
hand or the hand of his God guiding his fate, he knew the final move.

Writer: Tanaal

Date Tue Oct 20 06:07:44 2015

To All Abaddon Chlaus ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Spellbound: Apotheosis (III) - Factoring All the Angles

The sky was gray. The clouds hung low, and the wind was damp with the
ever-present impending of rain. Black roses bloomed in the bushes, thornier
than their red cousins. Other flowers in the garden were wilting. They
complimented the barren trees well. Fog from the bog made the ambience

And it was beautiful.

Tanaal made a note to take in every sensation of feeling the ground beneath
his feet, in an attempt to appreciate the sensation.

"The only way forward... "

Abaddon was the same as it was yesterday: Gloomy and in partial ruin. But
for this evening, it was paradise to Tanaal. It was home. His instincts
told him not to give it up. His being was, once again, rebelling. But this
time, he was ready. He had the peace of mind he sought, the peace of mind
to meditate on the barrier between life and death. Of death, itself.

"Is this really my destiny? " he pondered, locking his arms behind his back
and slowly strutting down the avenue of Good Intentions. "Was I just meant
to be a sacrificial lamb? "

Rebellion came from within. This line of thinking was against everything he
was taught. He would have to give up everything! But what was his reward?
What incentive did he have? If he gave in to what seemed to be his path,
there would be a net gain for the Tanaal he would become, but what of the
Tanaal he is now

His memory returned to the dream. He renounced his old conventions. Not
his talents, or his work; not his intellect, his ambitions, or his power,
no, he renounced his resistance to a greater existence.

But would it belong to himself

"There must be something I'm missing, " Tanaal reasoned, "There has to be
more than this. "

Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Oct 20 06:52:16 2015

Writer: Tanaal

Date Tue Oct 20 11:43:18 2015

To All Abaddon Chlaus ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Spellbound: Incarnation - The Shortest Distance

Black Chalice in his possession once more, Tanaal was ready to put his
plan into motion. He put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth, whistling
hard. An entourage of drudge skeletons scrambled into the cemetery,
assembling to see who summoned them.

"Drudges!" Tanaal barked, "Tonight you will gather spare materials from the
derelict buildings of Abaddon, and build for me a private mausoleum. It
will bear no name, and will contain an altar and combined sarcophagus. Make
haste! Go!"

With a snap of Tanaal's fingers, the drudges fanned out and scattered into
the fog of night. For the next hour, Tanaal heard a symphony of scraping
stone and crushing bones as the drudges labored to gather the materials
needed to build the mausoleum in such short notice.

The drudges began to return. Some carried buckets of swamp peat for mortar,
and most carried bricks of granite, marble, and clay. One by one, the
drudges bee-lined to the burial plot, laying the foundation, spreading the
mortar, and building the mausoleum. Channeling mana into his fingertips,
Tanaal pressed his hands to the bricks, summoning up fire from his spirit to
heat them and dry out the peat as to harden the mortar.

"Ritualist, what are you doing? Who are you building this mausoleum for?"
Asked a familiar voice from behind Tanaal. Turning around, Tanaal greeted
his mentor, "Ah, Chlaus! There is a matter of importance I must speak to
you about...

Writer: Tanaal

Date Tue Oct 20 11:47:25 2015

To All Abaddon Chlaus ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Spellbound: Incarnation (II) - Solution

"But I need you for my ritual, Tanaal," Chlaus stated sternly, "You are
our blood ritualist, and I need you to complete this task for me. The
stakes are too high for this."

"Wizard, I did my homework," Tanaal protested, "I know what I'm getting
into. I know what I stand to gain, and what I stand to lose."

"And if you fail?" Inquired Chlaus.

"We both know the price of failure in the Blood Kingdom, Wizard," Tanaal
said, "If I do not come out within 24 hours, retrieve the Chalice and my
body. You will find the materials I gathered for your ritual in my hoard."

"And what do I do with your body? It makes more sense to make this your
tomb, in that case," Chlaus said, "We could hold a funeral for you All the

"Not without a proper wake," said Tanaal, "There must be time given for
grieving. I would want my funeral to be respectful enough to be fitting for
my station."

Chlaus nodded sagely. "Then you know how dire it is, just as well, if you
succeed?" He asked, taking a step forward and examining Tanaal's features
to evaluate whether or not the Ritualist had a clear mind about his

Tanaal's typical neurotic gaze melted away to a deadpan. The squelchy,
high-baritone of his voice smoothed some when he responded to the Wizard,
"I will be reborn."

Writer: Andreyna

Date Tue Oct 20 11:49:11 2015

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Laendyn Thodrelan Tief Drondon Anathaelynn Ryakirdon Vys Zandreya Fatale Imm Rp Religion Zypher

Subject -The Mother's Will, The Law of Shalonesti-

'It is not one of Her creatures. ' 'Let it rage. ' Andreyna Sha'enlas
sat upon a plush pillow within the Priest's guild of Shalonesti, listening
to the Monsignor's words, to the advice of the Voice of the Mother. The
Queen had retreated to the comforts and peacefulness of the guild to pray,
to seek guidance from the Mother, reassurance from Her Monsignor.

Though the elf did not wish to admit it, the demon inhabiting the orc's body
had gotten to her, had upset her. A brief war of missives and argument had
exchanged between the Deacon and the unnatural being of Fatale. The Queen
would not allow the demon within the gates of Shalonesti, she would not
allow the elves of the kingdom to aid or trade with it, she expressed the
desire that the Mother did not wish it within Her holy places.

The demon twisted her words, those of the Speaker of the Stars, and those of
the Monsignor's, trying hard to confuse the elves of Shalonesti, to turn
them against their leaders. But in truth, the demon was not of the Lady
Zandreya, the demon was of Fatale. The Bishop Vys had even stated so.
Perhaps the demon was confused with the past memories of it's orc host, or
perhaps the demon simply wished to lie and cause chaos within the Vallens.
The Deaconess of Zandreya, the Queen of the elves would not stand for it.

Andreyna tilted her head to the ceiling, closing her eyes, breathing in
slowly, allowing the soothing fragrance of burning incense to envelope her.
She whispered softly, thanking the Mother for Her gracious gifts, for the
balance of nature that She held, for the fellow elves, for the faithful, for
the blessed Monsignor. The Deaconess remembered the words of the Mother as
she prayed, 'You who would lead my elves, remember that you would also lead
those of myself as well, in your journeys.
' The Mother's Will shall be
done. The Mother's Will shall endure. The Mother's Will shall be and will
always be the Law of Shalonesti.

Writer: Theya

Date Tue Oct 20 19:46:44 2015

To All - Necrucifer Religion Roleplay

Subject A Faded World, Prayers Anew

Theya awoke from a dream that faded away before she could capture it.
All she could remember were vague, unclear images of grays, shades and
darkness before a headache pierced her skull and made her forget everything
about the wisp of images. Grabbing her head gently, she squeezed her eyes
shut and used the heels of her palms to massage her temples gingerly.

That she was suffering the pain did not strike her for several moments, and
then she gasped in surprise, her eyes shooting open. The sight of the world
nearly distracted her - everything was dull and faded, no shimmer or glisten
or vibrancy of any kind. It was as if the very essence of life were gone
from the world, taking with it everything pleasing to the eye, or the
ability to appreciate such things.

The pain lingered, though, striking hard against her temples and behind her
eyes, which the headache brought tears to. All Theya could feel,
emotionally, was deep joy. She laughed, and became close to hysterical as
overwhelming tears of joy poured from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
She had forgotten pain, and here it was. That Siccara had forsaken her and
the next day she awoke with a headache, she was overcome with gratitude.
Elated was the word. She was elated.

In time, the throbbing and pounding against her skull faded away, and her
emotions calmed, but she remained somewhat giddy in the aftermath. That
Necrucifer often appeared as powerful migraines, sharp flashes of agony in
the skull that could make anyone's nose and ears blood, or their vision
fade, did not go beyond her. It was even more promising and she relished in
the additional bolstering of her spirit that it brought her in wake of the
divine spark missing from her soul. Another step closer.

After tending her her physical needs, Theya returned to the temple of
Necrucifer and kneeled down before the statue. She placed in front of her -
on the ground - with care, The Book of Evil and then clasped her hands,
bowing her head in supplication so that she might pray.

"Master, another day has passed in which I seek Your gaze. The false
goddess of Healing has released me, and now I am a wandering spirit, devoid
of divine spark - an empty vessel waiting for Your presence. I have been
gifted with a copy of the Book of Evil by one of Your servants, a man named
Vulgrim, and I have ready every word of its pages. I learned anew what I
had forgotten, and I have been reminded of the value of being grateful for
even the small gifts that Your divine grace has placed before me. Guidance
from your faithful has been plentiful, and most of All I am grateful for the
many prayers that are being lifted on the behalf of one meager, lost soul
seeking to return to Your service. I am yours, Master, should You find me
worthy. All will be consumed by Your Darkness, and All is for Your glory."

Writer: Anathaelynn

Date Tue Oct 20 20:23:52 2015

Writer: Simani

Date Tue Oct 20 21:07:54 2015

To All Abaddon ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Fatale )
Subject Disconnection & Discord (Part 4)

For All that Abaddon was known as a place of His chosen, it was also
known as a place of contention and turmoil. Simani understood this; had
understood it long before she had chosen to submit herself to Fatale's will,
and join that dark and swampy city. Abaddon was a family; families tended
to fight and bicker amongst themselves. Small factions arose and fell and
reformed with new members, again and again. Accusations levied time and
time again, and retorts shouted and retracted and shouted again.

It was, by and large, a basic family affair.

Simani didn't pay too much attention to the particulars; not quite a part of
the family, and yet undeniably not quite separate, either, she mostly
skirted the edge of the various factions and foolishness. The kingdom, as a
whole, moved on without comment. She found herself easily forgotten in the
shuffle of the day to day; her voiceless existence solitary more often than
not. Perhaps she had offended. Perhaps she had simply failed to entertain.
It really didn't matter the reason. It was better that way. For her, there
was nothing to worry about save the books, the records and the peace that
came with delving into them. It was All she was good for. Or so she told

For weeks, her emotions had been wild and volatile; still were. Only in her
books did she find relief. Like a proper addict, she delved deeper and
deeper, day by day. Philosophy. Magic. History. Geography. It didn't
really matter. She removed herself slowly from the world, from her
impulses, and from those actions she could not control. If it was written
in a book, on a page, encased in vellum, her eyes devoured it. Her mind
marked it, searing the information on her soul, wearing it like armour. If
it was flesh? If it breathed and spoke and cared? She hid away, behind
mask and mist and whatever else it took to vanish. It was one of only two
escapes she had found from the madness raging within and around her.

The other, of course, was the bogs. Night after night, she found her way to
the same old trees, the same waiting roots, and the predictable, calming
influence of those dancing mists. The way they swirled about her set her
heart at ease; the way they separated her from the world kept her silence
untainted by anger. They surrounded and protected her, and she in turn
embraced them. She was hidden from all. Well, most. The will'o'wisp still
found her; their game still evolved. Though now, her emotions in turmoil,
it was less game and more companionship. The undulating orb of light did
not flee when she gazed upon her; when she ignored the orb, she simply
settled in alongside the bookworm, near a shoulder or a lap. There was
comfort there, quiet and unassuming, free from judgement, free from scorn.
Simani drank it in. She did not realize, at first, the change that had
happened. The will'o'wisp, so quiet and unassuming, had gone from an it to
a her; from a being of swamp gas and spirit to a companion, as whole as any
she knew.

She found things peculiar. The more she studied her dear companion, the
more the need for the city diminished. The more the pull of society failed
her. Dimly, she could remember the need that had burned in her, once upon a
time. A need to be accepted. A need to be useful. She wasn't certain that
she still desired it. The emotions raging within were harsh; critics of
every action and interaction. She found herself becoming more distant by
the moment. It would be easier to simply sleep, and let herself bleed away.
Eyelids closed, breathing steadied, and the sum of emotions were held at
bay. With calm certainty of her safety, Simani slept, her companion by her

And as she slept, she dreamt...

Writer: Drew

Date Wed Oct 21 01:08:35 2015

Writer: Damion

Date Wed Oct 21 11:01:32 2015

Writer: Simani

Date Wed Oct 21 11:32:20 2015

To All Abaddon Chlaus Rhyane ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Fatale )
Subject Trip To Tropica I (Part 5-a)

Take a break from the world, they had told her; go someplace warm. Don't
pay attention to us. Focus on yourself. As far back as she could remember,
Simani had not been chastised so thoroughly. Lectured so regularly. It was
all she could do to keep her temper in check. Don't stick your nose in your
books; don't focus on the Work. Your services aren't needed. More pain.
More anger. She had held up to it well. Rhyane, at least, had meant well
in her judgement, in her works. You aren't trusted, Chlaus had implied.
Meet me in the garden, he had demanded.

Chlaus's words, within the garden. That was another story. Her silence,
her eternal shield against the world, had failed her. Had become a weakness
as Chlaus assaulted with accusations and nonsense that she could not rebuke.
Orlen, of All people. He thought she had been faithless with Orlen. She
barely knew the man. The other accusation was wrong as well, if perhaps
slightly closer to home. It only made the pain burn brighter, the anger
grow quicker. As she listened to the litany of issues he had with her, she
could feel that darkness spreading. Could feel the need to rip his throat
out. It was a foreign desire. One she had only had once before. She
swallowed it and walked away.

And so she found herself sick and dizzy and raging out of control,
unwittingly following the advice Rhyane had given her. Someplace warm;
someplace far from the bogs and the books and the home she had come to think
of as hers. Far from the hurt and the pain and the anger. Feeling unwanted
and rejected. She had left a note for Vyasa; he would make his response,
and when she returned, she would know her answer. She felt like a fool.
Trusting people. Her downfall, ever and always. It only made her angrier.
It only made her burn. There was no escape, this time.

She wasn't trusted.

As the bookworm made her way through the jungles of Tropica, the sun beat
down on her pale flesh. She was unused to the caress. Usually, days were
spent within the library, nights within the bogs. The sun offered some
minor comfort; it was not, at least, unpleasant. It did not, however, offer
much in the way of succor or relief; the chill of disease still ran through
her veins, her ragged and abused constitution still reared its head with
every step.

Her instability was growing worse.

Chlaus's maligning words had not helped her; no sunlight could burn away the
look of disgust or the sound of scorn. Nothing could banish the hatred he
had showed her, the careless and offhanded revilement sticking like the
filth it was. Her silence had failed her; he knew she could not rebutt the
slurry of insults and accusations; knew that she had no recourse but to
listen. Now, walking through the jungle, haphazard and without destination,
she considered killing him.

No. Not just killing him. Sacrificing him. Torturing him.

Writer: Simani

Date Wed Oct 21 11:35:15 2015

To All Abaddon Chlaus Rhyane ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Fatale )
Subject Trip To Tropica II (Part 5-b)

No. Not just killing him. Sacrificing him. Torturing him.

The idea gave way to images and imagining, the bookworm's steps winding
through the jungle as she breathed in his death, gave it life, made it real.
She would start with his tongue. He had used her silence against her; she
would force him to understand what it is like to be so helpless, so quiet.
It would be ripped from his mouth with force; shoved back between those
lying jaws to quiet his screams. Only then would she begin upon his flesh.
Inch by inch, she would sunder skin from muscle; with the greatest of care
she would strip him clean. Alive and writhing, she would bleed him dry.
Every drop of that foul blood would be sacrificed to the bogs; every ounce
an offering. What remained would be left to rot.

The masouleum awaited Simani, silent as death. She had not sought the
overgrown clearing; had not looked to enter the forbidding gates. And yet,
she knew the words of the old texts by heart: Anger begets anger; pain
begets pain. Revenge begets revenge, and magic begets magic. The
simplicity of the truth had always struck Simani as obvious. Her
destination did not surprise her. It was a fitting one. Without a word or
noise to break the solemn air, the woman made her way to the crumbling stone
walls. Seated herself alongside. The anger still burned; the dark storm
within still raged unabated. Above her, the sun began to set.

At first, she was oblivious to the effects of the crypt upon her. The anger
masked them, hid the soft leaching of magic and emotion; there was plenty to
burn away. When at last she was calm enough to notice, she was already
somewhat detached; somewhat elsewhere. The taste of the tainted stone was
like that of the bogs, she realized. Soft and understanding, soothing.
Weariness replaced wrath, and slowly but surely, the exhausted Simani's head
began to droop. Sleep came, and for a time, she knew no more.

OOC: Look familiar? That's because this storynote (and part I preceding it)
are a revamp of an unedited version posted last night. Blame the
sleep-demon for not proofreading.

Writer: Tanaal

Date Wed Oct 21 22:53:27 2015

To All Abaddon Chlaus ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Spellbound: Incarnation (III) - Division

Tears streamed down Tanaal's face as he sealed the mausoleum from inside.
He had nothing to lose. No family, no steady lover, no progeny... He was
alone. The thought of possibly dying alone scared him. At the same time,
he took solace that he had no entanglements that would cause undue grief to
others. There was, of course, Abaddon... But they had a close relationship
to death. They would grieve, and move on All the same, noting the
contributions of their Ritualist. He had nothing to lose, either.

He had limited air, and haste would just drain it faster. He had to be
efficient. Rather than striking up a candle to compete with his lungs for
precious air, he twiddled his thumbs to bring a single orb of light to
illuminate the interior of the mausoleum. He stepped into the stone casket
in the middle of the mausoleum, and placed the Black Chalice onto the blank

The circle was drawn about the floor of the mausoleum, albeit the design had
to be adjusted to be less integrated, because of the stone structure in the
middle of it all. Instead of using Shalonesti dialect for the
circumscriptions, he wrote it in his own dialect. He was, after all, his
own worst enemy up to this point. But this ritual wasn't the same as his
first, the one to awaken power. No, it was just like any other
transformation ritual. But he was the object.

"Praises to Necrucifer! Glory unto you, for you have shown me the path to
power, and I accept your call! In your ancient power, transform me into a
form more powerful and unholy than I currently am! Lo, that Darkness
bolsters my being, and may it permeate every fiber, that I become an
instrument to extol your glory!"

Tanaal raised the Chalice up, closing his eyes for one breath, and then
lowered it to his lips. The blood from the Chalice tasted more bitter now.
He did not want to risk dying, but he had to move forward. Forcing himself
to swallow the mouthful of blood, he coughed and gagged once, managing to
calm himsef to hold it down.

He returned the Black Chalice to its place of sitting on top of the
headstone. Now was the moment of reckoning. Now was the moment he had
waited for. Tanaal struggled past his hesitation, and lifted his hands

"Ph'n'ghft, uln kadishtu! In blood, finality! "

One incantation was All it took. The Black Chalice violently shook and
clattered in place for All of two seconds before a torrent violently
fulminated as a fountain, showering the entire interior of the mausoleum in
blood. Tanaal lowered his arms. He knelt down in the casket, and lay down.
Uttering words of spellcasting, he weakened himself, so he could not thrash
as the mausoleum was filling.

Writer: Tanaal

Date Wed Oct 21 23:00:57 2015

To All Abaddon Chlaus ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Necrucifer Fatale )

Subject Spellbound: Incarnation (IV) - Prime Factor

Tanaal blinked, and beheld his surroundings. Once again, he found
himself at the cliffside where he renounced his weakness. He glanced over
himself, finding that he was wearing attire similar to the cloaked figure he
had encountered before: A dark cloak, and black-plated attire with various
skull-and-serpent motifs. Tanaal kneeled over the edge, beholding the
swirling abyss that he condemned his weakness to. Turning around to explore
the new world he found himself in, he nearly was scared off the cliffside
when he saw another cloaked figure. The
Cloaked Figure. Beside the cloaked
figure, Tanaal saw a ghostly image of himself submerged in blood, floating
beside the figure.

"Ah! M-master! It is an honor!" Tanaal said, kneeling before him, "I live
to serve." The cloaked figure spoke in his true-to-form wailing polyphonic
voice, "You live no longer. You serve me in death." Tanaal's jaw flapped
open, "Wh-what?! I...!?"

Before Tanaal could protest further, the cloaked figure snapped his fingers,
and in a burst of hellflame, a lanky, nightmarish demon appeared, kneeling
before the figure with his long, spindly clawed fingers resting on his knee
and his head bowed. "Massster..." The demon hissed, "what is thy bidding?"

The figure pointed to the aetherial image of Tanaal's body, submerged and
drowned in the blood from the Black Chalice, and said, "You will take this
one's body, memories, and identity. Use your talents to spread darkness in
my name. Be aware that this one lives in Fatale's domain, and as such, I
charge you to duty under Fatale, in my name. So long as you remain there,
you will honor me by honoring him. Failure means oblivion. This, I

The demon hissed in acknowledgment, and rose up, heading toward the haunting
image that Tanaal projected from. As the demon placed his clawed hand up to
the image, his presence distorted, as if he was being bent and projected
around a tiny sphere that slowly evanesced as it integrated with the path to
Tanaal's body.

The cloaked figure turned to Tanaal after the transfer, and said, "You've
served me well. You faced your adversities time and again, and overcame. I
need more souls for the coming battle. You've proven yourself to be quite
driven. When the time comes, I will forge you into an instrument of my

Tanaal shifted is attentions back and forth between the cloaked figure and
the image of his body. Tanaal said, "But what of my life? There's much I
have to indulge in. Much I have left to enjoy, with so much time to my
life; even the commonplace happenings of mortal life, I am bound by instinct
to seek."

The cloaked figure spread his cloak open. Naught but shadow could be seen.
Still, like a chambered tent, what appeared to be two women sauntered
forward from the void under the cloak. As they stepped closer toward
Tanaal, he saw other features: Dark, reddish-tinted skin, horns, wings, and
curves that not even Tanaal could calculate the tangents of. At least, not
while he was so captivated. Their eyes kept Tanaal completely engaged.
"Obedience has its rewards, Tanaal. All you sought at the edge of your
unconscious mind, you will receive at my side."

The demonesses kissed their palms, and in unison, blew across them at
Tanaal, laughing haughtily before turning about on their heels and slinking
back into the shadowy abyss under the figure's cloak. Tanaal was keenly
paying attention to the sashay of their hips before the darkness completely
enveloped them, obscuring them from sight. The figure let his cloak fall,
and in an ominous, inviting tone, said, "Come. Embrace your new destiny,
'Soul Render'."

Writer: Tanaal

Date Wed Oct 21 23:08:25 2015

To All Abaddon Chlaus ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Spellbound: Incarnation (Final) - Integration by Parts

... Integral of hyperbolic tangent x derivative of x...

Who... Am I?

I am Tanaal Ergosh.

Why am I thirsty?

A hand reached out, pressing against the mix of marble and granite brick
that lined the casket. Coldness. Hardness. These sensations filtered
through the hand, and shot up through the spine. It was the first that the
demon felt a physical sensation of touch.

... Equals natural logarithm of hyperbolic cosine x, plus constant of
integration c...

That... This is feeling. What am I feeling?

A casket.

Casket. Where am I?

I know where I am.

Memories slowly populated Tanaal's mind. He was a professor, once. He once
lived in Arkane. He tried in vain to study swordsmanship under Lords Lothaw
and Damerus. He was obsessed with research and mathematics. He unlocked
his connection to the arcane arts. He researched blood rituals. He sought
to unlock the secrets of life and death. He was in the mausoleum.

And now, he was something else

That's right... I did this

... Inverse tangent of absolute value of hyperbolic sine of x, plus c...

"Shut... Up. " Tanaal uttered, as the information streamed into his mind
like a flash flood. A headache was growing.

... Negative A times the square of hyperbolic cosecant...

"I said, be silent!!"

Eyes finally opened, Tanaal saw where he was. The ball of light had not
even extinguished from earlier.

I made that ball. I made this ritual. I am Tanaal.

Remember your charge.

Yes. I remember. I will make your will manifest, my Master.

... Inverse of A times the arc-secant of U over A...

Make it stop!!

"I SAID SILENCE! " Tanaal sat up, thrashing about. He rose to his feet,
and fell backward, knocking the Black Chalice off the headstone. The light
from the orb began to dim. Reaching into his pocket, Tanaal took out a warp

... Hyperbolic cosecant of Ax multiplied by derivative x...

It was unbearable. The constant chatter of his brain was more than Tanaal
could handle. He had to escape. He had to concentrate.

I am the Darkness. It flows through me! I can leave this place!

Staggering out of the casket, Tanaal tripped over the stoney edge,
face-planting squarely beside the Black Chalice. The taste of the spilled
blood on the ground gave him a sense of relief. Still dizzy, Tanaal managed
to get up, taking the Black Chalice with him. He waited for the blood to
refill before taking another sip again. It was sweet. It was refreshing.
It made him feel less dizzy. It made him feel alive

Wasting no further time, with a warp stone in one hand, and the Black
Chalice in the other, Tanaal incanted his final word spoken within the
sealed mausoleum, just as the ball of light evanesced into darkness, "Oahz!"

Writer: Rhyane

Date Thu Oct 22 01:18:18 2015

Writer: Rhyane

Date Thu Oct 22 02:11:33 2015

Writer: Takeri

Date Thu Oct 22 09:01:53 2015

To All Abaddon Damion Chlaus Rhyane Simani ( Gragos Fatale RP )

Subject Reflection in The Onyx Temple

Takeri still wanted. She was filled with want. Nothing succored the
hunger she felt All the time, though lately it seemed she had become more
tolerant of it. At least, she did not want to crack open everyone's skulls
and suck out their brains. Hunger's needy fingers no longer clawed at her
belly, but perhaps she had just acclimated to the feeling. She was
learning, she knew this, everyday her senses were piqued, challenged, held
with the Lord's embrace between life and death. She wondered at the purpose
of her seeming infinite eventuality. She sat in the Onyx temple, waiting,
praying. It was hard to please so many people, All of whom seemed to have a
plethora of varying ideas. She was beginning to understand how truth could
be so subjective.

Much had gone on in her young afterlife. She took it in pace, marrying
Damion had been the one thing she had done since joining the church that
made her feel more stable. She did not seek to ruin this. She sought to
make herself stronger. She was failing, worse yet, she had been wrapped up
in her own desires and wants she had begun to lose sight of the precious
respite her husband brought her daily. That foolish complacency compounded
with incessant hunger that gnawed at her without stop caused tears to well
up in her eyes, blurring her vision of the alter in a red-tinged haze.
Nothing about her was stable now. She felt a little defeated, doubt setting
into her soul as a spill of red streaks coursed down her cheeks. She did
not know how to correct her mistakes. She knelt before the altar and asked
her Lord for wisdom, reprieve from the hunger and blessings on her new found
family. Soon, either way, she would be called to participate, the course of
each choice leading to a sacrifice. She had learned in her years of living
that most of life was a sacrifice. It seemed that afterlife was about the

Writer: Phylip

Date Thu Oct 22 18:23:47 2015

Writer: Jadelyn

Date Thu Oct 22 21:57:14 2015

Writer: Dannora

Date Fri Oct 23 08:04:51 2015

Writer: Simani

Date Fri Oct 23 14:16:54 2015

Writer: Rhyane

Date Fri Oct 23 16:43:06 2015

Writer: Rhyane

Date Fri Oct 23 17:23:33 2015

Writer: Rhyane

Date Fri Oct 23 17:24:01 2015

Writer: Simani

Date Fri Oct 23 23:57:39 2015

Writer: Simani

Date Sat Oct 24 01:15:18 2015

To All Abaddon ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Fatale )
Subject Return To Abaddon (Part 6)

Simani's return to the city was welcomed by silence. Dazed and bruised
and bloodied from the inevitable fight with ghast and ghoul and wraith and
more, the quiet woman was glad for the peace. Her disheveled appearance
would go unnoticed; explinations would be on the whole unnecessary. Her
fingers, delicate things that they were, would be spared the hours of

The mists curled about her, helping to hide the diminutive form as she
walked amongst the streets and alleys of her current home. Small tidbits
touched her ears from those few that lingered in the night, bringing gossip
to her ears. She'd only been gone a handful of days; surely nothing too
terrible could have happened.... Right?

'The Inquisitor's gone missing. '

'No one seems to know what happened. '

... Of course it couldn't be simple. It never was. Simani spared only a
glance towards her residence, the longing evident in every inch of her form.
Clean clothes. Warm... No... Hot water. A bath. The simple pleasures
would have to wait. Her Inquisitor needed her. And Abaddon needed its

Writer: Damion

Date Sat Oct 24 12:19:42 2015

Writer: Deodatus

Date Sun Oct 25 15:35:53 2015

To Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Anathaelynn Zandreya All ( Imm RP Religion )

Subject Myself

The Senator excused herself, departing to see to other matters.

Deodatus rested his hands on the branches of the balcony and looked out of
the endless green beauty of the Shalonesti Kingdom. It was soothing, the
sea of green leaves. After a number of minutes, he lifted his hands.

They trembled.

No, they shook.

It dawned on him that his entire being shook, right to its core.

Work on his tasks had been slow. Not because they were overly difficult,
but because he wanted to take his time. Rush nothing.

However, the task of the object was causing some difficulty for him.
Deodutus had been spending much time thinking it over, and All this thoughts
returned to the same object to choose. It had been good to share his
thoughts on the matter with the Senator. With the way he shook, frigthening
as well. It was not only a presumptuous choice, it also, perhaps, toed the
line of heresy.

Deodatus flexed his hands and breathed slowly until the shaking turned to
trembling and the tembline turned to stillness.

What was done was done. Personal thoughts had been voiced. There was
nothing to do about it now expect wait until they could speak again.

In the meantime, he would try to again find the centre of the maze so that
he could show the Senator.

Deodatus looked out over the Kingdom again and uttered one word...


Writer: Simani

Date Sun Oct 25 21:34:32 2015

Writer: Simani

Date Sun Oct 25 21:34:40 2015

Writer: Theya

Date Sun Oct 25 23:00:50 2015

To All - Necrucifer Religion Roleplay

Subject A Sacrificial Gift

Theya once again knelt in the Shrine of Necrucifer, her gaze fixated on
the dagger that she had laid on the floor before her. The blade and the
pommel were both dark and made from steel that was not fancy in any way.
The dagger was straight and as plain as possible, forgoing any sort of
ornamentation. It was not even a perfectly balanced blade. It was several
grams heavy in the pommel, and the blade showed some discoloration where the
steel had not been folded and purified properly, and likely not treated with
the proper flame to water processes. In ways, she saw herself as the

She was not perfect, and the events which had crafted her into the person
that knelt in the temple were not pretty - as if an unskilled hand had been
guiding them. She had flaws that would likely lead to internal weaknesses
if probed, or tested heavily, but the blade was sharp, the guard sturdy, and
the pommel wrapped in grip-worthy leather. In the hands of a skilled
warrior, or assassin, the blade would be lethal - hell, in the hands of
anyone, given the right moment or time, it could alter the course of
history. And that was where she was - resting on the floor, awaiting a
wielder to pick her up, and either reforge her, or apply her to some

Still wrapped in a world that seemed constantly trapped in a haze that
leeched away color and vibrancy, Theya's soul felt weighed down, despite the
burden of a divine presence. The days had started to wear upon her
physically, and mentally, so she had been resting more between her prayers
and her training, but it had not yet worn down her hope, her determination.

And that was why she gazed upon the dagger.

She had confessed her past, her shame; she had fought hard to let go of such
memories that tied her down and ensnared her within her own heart and mind;
she had killed someone young and vibrant, full of life and with a bright
future ahead - and she had labored hard physically in her training,
strengthening her body. She also read over spiritual tomes, read essays and
spoke prayers, sometimes joining others, or accepting them on her behalf.
She copied religious texts and sought out historical documents, and now and
then she would deliver a sacrifice to the temple, burning it before the
statue. The dark figure she relied on to guide her was often quiet, now,
but when they did speak, she always felt one step closer, one lesson wiser.

With a steady hand, Theya picked up the dagger and guided it toward her own
body. With a guiding hand, she began to move the blade against her form as
parts of herself fell away, landing in her lap and on the temple floor.
While she worked, she breathed steadily and prayed.

"Master, I give of myself this night, to You. I sacrifice in Your name, to
rid myself of pride, of vanity. Tools need not be aesthetically pleasing,
or perfect, so long as they are guided in service to You, that they might
further Your will within the World and prepare it for Your Arrival. As I
give of my body what belongs to You, know that I am grateful for All that
You have already done, for I know my eyes begin to open, and I pray that
soon they shall truly See again. Please look upon me and be merciful, for
though I have strayed and am deserving of Your judgment, there is much I can
yet give to You, do for You, and I desire only to be as You will of me upon
these lands. All is for Your Glory, for You are the only End - praise the
Darkness, praise You, Necrucifer, Lord of us All."

When she was finished, They laid the dagger upon the floor and brushed the
heavy pile of hair together. She chose a single lock of curly mahogany
tresses, binding them with a simple piece of hemp ribbon and set it aside,
before she put the last of it into a dish and set it ablaze. The stench was
rather offensive, and the smoke dark and acrid, but she stayed until it no
longer even smoldered. Then, she penned a simple missive and folded in the
lock of hair. When finished, she rose and left the temple - there was more
work to be done.

Writer: Anathaelynn

Date Sun Oct 25 23:08:38 2015

Writer: Tanaal

Date Mon Oct 26 01:17:08 2015

Writer: Khorvash

Date Mon Oct 26 02:56:48 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Mon Oct 26 07:16:43 2015

Writer: Theya

Date Mon Oct 26 20:04:39 2015

To All - Necrucifer Religion Roleplay

Subject Pride, and its ugly truth ( Part One )

Anger roiled inside of Theya, coursing through her veins like a drug that
was slowly poisoning her. She felt hot, and her stomach was producing
nauseated pains that caused a metallic taste to fill her mouth. The energy
created an uneasy storm within her, whipping up energy that sent her surging
back and forth across the shrine floor in motions sharp and quick. With
each strike of her heel against the marble floor, she saw and did not see -
for she was aware of her surroundings, but her focus was on her own

She did not like the Hierophant, nor his "beloved" wife, the Novitiate. She
did not enjoy being surprised with a "task" she neither asked for, nor saw
any purpose in. She did not believe them when they told her that the orders
had come down from the one she had first approached to begin this process.
She also did not like the answer she had been given when she had asked them

Her own pride was getting in her way, and that bothered her the most.

The Hierophant had been mentioned to her, that he was doing good work and
was a good servant. Theya considered the why of it, and mulled over her own
reactions to the man. He had offered her a gift of a book that taught her
more about the Master. Okay, that was a good thing and she could appreciate
that. When she expressed, in her own way, that the conversation was
awkward, he had stayed to talk with her - had made certain she understood
the importance of the book, in his eyes; had made sure she remembered
gratitude. This was also admirable and she could accept that if she was
poor at speaking, then she had no right to take offense when others were the
same way. As a religious leader for his kingdom, and his faith, he also had
certain rights to ask her questions about her faith and to try and guide her

The problem came when he assumed, or that was how she had taken it, to have
every right to every detail of her life and her faith, denying her right to
privacy of thought and feeling and faith - to her inner struggles. It was
invasive, and she had not invited the man, nor did she know remotely enough
about him to confide any such things in the person. As it dawned on her she
did not have to disclose these things and that she had allowed him under her
skin for no reason, her pace slowed and she nodded to herself. She owed the
man nothing, but the Master everything. If these conversations and meetings
would help her learn and get closer to God, then it could be endured,
perhaps even embraced with the right attitude.

Almost at a stop, Theya felt the press of a parchment in her pocket and her
mood turned sour again, spurring her back to her pacing, though it was less
vigorous than before.

The Novitiate was a different matter. The woman had barely said an entire
paragraph to Theya, her husband did most of the talking. The two would
speak silently with each other while meeting with her, and Theya felt judged
in All the wrong ways. It should not matter, but if a lowly Novitiate
deigned to pray that Theya was unworthy, then those prayers could spell her
disaster, her eternity in a limbo of not belonging anywhere, but constantly
seeking. A waking nightmare. Ah, there it was - fear. Theya had fear that
the expectations and opinions of mortals would somehow sway the opinion of
God and she responded with anger.

And her damnable pride again.

So what if the woman was perceived as a bad priestess? She was attempting
to spread lessons of God and was that not important - effort? If the
Novitiate barely deigned to speak, and spoke only to deliver tasks that
Theya could not understand the point of, then whose fault was it really?
Not the Novitiate's.

Writer: Theya

Date Mon Oct 26 20:19:14 2015

To All - Necrucifer Religion Roleplay

Subject Pride, and its ugly truth ( Part Two - End )

Rather than reacting as she had, offended that a lowly Novitiate would
claim to have any better understanding than Theya herself did, she should
have been grateful. The Novitiate Laleina did not have to spend time on
Theya at all, but she chose to. She chose to endure Theya's curt words and
bristling demeanor in an effort to redeem a wayward soul. That Theya had
been too arrogant to understand this at the time brought her enough shame to
draw her to a stand still. In the middle of the temple, she dove deeper
into her own emotions and her own motivations, tearing them apart without

These people were trying to help her.

They were trying to do their best to serve the Master.

She was the one too blinded by her own sensitivities to see that this was
all for His glory, not her own ego and satisfaction. She was the one that
saw judgment where perhaps there was none. She was the one that saw pity
and disdain in the eyes, and heard them in the words of others where perhaps
there was none. She was the only one in control of her actions, her
thoughts, her feelings. They were the only ones in control of their own.
She could not force anyone to do anything, as they could not force her to do
anything. All they did, they did in Service, and if they did not, then they
would be judged. As she would be judged.

Sobered, and drained, Theya slowly sank to her knees upon the floor and
pulled the parchment out of her pocket. With care, she unfolded it and read
over her own words, her response to the task that had been given to her.

It was truthful, to an extent, but it lacked focus and devotion. It lacked
any real luster for the task, and showed ignorance along with arrogance in
the short, clipped tone of the words. It was as brief as possible, rather
than delving lengthily into the philosophical matters that she knew full
well could span an entire book, or series of volumes. It showed every flaw
that still remained within her that was untempered, and unworthy.

Considering her options as she read over her copy of the document, Theya
felt a headache building at the base of her skull, traveling up and over to
reach her eyes. It pierced her world, striking through the haze and lack of
vibrancy like the strike of an angry cobra. Blinded by sparks of light and
color, Theya dropped the parchment and squeezed her eyes shut, gripping her
temples and massaging gently at the pressure points near her orbital
sockets. The tension did not go, but even as it threatened to spin her into
a place of unconsciousness, it clarified her purpose, and reminded her that
she was insignificant.

What happened to her would not be so much as the notation of a notation if
she continued to attempt and stray from the true path, to try and do things
utterly on her own, with pride in her heart. Hubris was dangerous, not so
much for what it could do to an individual in one day, but for the lethal
way it snuck up on a person and day-by-day over weeks, months, and even
years, poisoned every moment of existence.

The headache began to ease as suddenly as it had stricken and Theya sighed
in relief despite herself, shaking a little as she placed her palms on the
warm floor, her fingers cold enough to create a moisture layer against the
marble. She stared at the parchment she had dropped and knew that there was
still a long way to go, but for a brief moment, she would find respite on a
small ledge - another step up the tall mountain toward His glory. It was
only a matter of consistent hard work and perseverance, and an ever watchful
eye turned as keenly inward as without. Often, the greatest dangers were
stirred from one's self, rather than what the world could concoct.

After the headache faded, Theya found more parchment for writing, determined
to find a way to embrace a more humble way of moving forward, and to atone
for yet another sin.

Writer: Carrionmaw

Date Tue Oct 27 08:34:46 2015

Writer: Carrionmaw

Date Tue Oct 27 08:50:25 2015

Writer: Phylip

Date Tue Oct 27 19:22:16 2015

Writer: Nessah

Date Tue Oct 27 21:02:42 2015

Writer: Theya

Date Wed Oct 28 12:29:32 2015

To All - Necrucifer Religion Roleplay

Subject No More Stones

The house was made of stone and shutters that covered the small windows
were painted blue and white, but after years of neglect the paint was
pealing and the colors were no longer vibrant. Vines had grown up the
outside, weeds littered the yard and there was no sign of the small garden
that had once provided the herbs and vegetables so often found inside. The
door, naturally, let out an offensive moaning squeal as it was pushed open
and allowed the first bit of sunlight and fresh air inside in years, perhaps
even a decade or more. Inside was not much better.

A heavy layer of dust covered everything from the table and chairs to the
couch and bed and the counters. The air was heavy with it as her feet
kicked up the testament to time and neglect, irritating her nose and her
eyes. Moths had gotten to the fabrics, and here and there were small track
trails, indicative of mice, or possibly small rats. Moving to the windows,
she pushed open the shutters with a bit of force to allow more light and air
into the place. With the noise and added light, there was some fluttering
and squeaking and she could only imagine that their was a family of bats or
something living under the thatching of the roof. Miraculously, that was
somehow in tact and had kept the worst of the elements at bay so while the
air had a hint of foulness from the animals, there was no scent of mold or
mildew that was overwhelming.

Approaching the kitchen table, she trailed her fingertips across its
surface, leaving her touch in the dust and letting her fingertips linger at
the corner, connecting her physically with the piece. It may as well have
been aeons, the place felt so alien to her, now. Everything was familiar,
but she no longer belonged here. She had not belonged here since her mentor
had shown up at the door with that bottle in his hands and had offered it to
her. He had not stayed to see the choice she would make. Simply gave it to
her, and then departed, vanishing into the obscurities of history, which was
what he was good at. It was how he survived.

Turning to one of the chairs, Theya dusted it off with her hands and then
slung off her pack and her weapons, letting them rest on the old, worn wood.
She took stock of everything that would need done to get the place fixed up,
then set to work. Cleaning the place was no small effort, nor repairing the
damages of the elements and those critters that had managed to get inside.
At one point in the scrubbing and organizing and manual labor, she was
nearly bitten by a bat, and avoided the close call with some swearing and a
sense of relief. Those things carried a disease that sent a person into
madness like no other, which eventually lead to a terrible death. In the
end, however, the cabin looked nearly brand new. Even the garden had been
weeded and the soil turned so that it could rest and be ready for planting
in the spring.

The door was silent as Theya closed the door and locked it with the key that
was always hidden behind a stone facade. She hid the key again, then slung
her pack back onto her shoulders, taking the narrow path toward the
waist-high gate that defined the property. She had not been to Tracer's
funeral service. She had only heard about it. In a way, she had never
really let go of him and All the kindness and unconditional love he had
shown her, and their children. He had been a good man, had built this house
with his own hands, and somehow it was a shame she would never again return.
She wasn't even sure why she had this time - morbid curiosity maybe, or
seeking to let go of the last tether that tied her to her history.

In any case, it was done, and perhaps the next owners might find a more
happier ending. Hers was yet to be determined and she could no longer
afford the stones that had been strapped to her ankles. Turning and leaving
the property, Theya closed the gate for the last time, leaving the small
cottage, and its memories, behind her.

Writer: Maithion

Date Thu Oct 29 13:12:19 2015

Writer: Simani

Date Thu Oct 29 15:55:17 2015

To All Abaddon Shalonesti_kingdom ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Fatale )
Subject Prey (Part 1)

The acrid smell of the bogs tasted like home on Simani's tongue; from
the fetid waters to the evanescant mists, every sensation was a welcome
one. It offered balm to soothe her battered ego and bruised heart, and
she took that medication willingly.

The Inquisitor's words still echoed in her mind; her missive was still
clutched in her hands. Simani had only been trying to help; and for
that transgression she had received a verbal lashing that stuck in her
flesh. More than it should, perhaps: The loss of respect from one that
she held in such high regard was devistating.

It was good that the rising darkness obscurred her; there was no other
way to hide the melancholy expression her face. Without her usual
night-time companion alongside her, the bogs were not as comforting as
they once were. Even this walk seemed empty; pointless.

Some actions could not be undone, however, nor decisions unmade. There
was no recalling that constant companion from the void that had embraced
her; no reviving her lost friend and benefactor. She wondered if the
same was true now with Rhyane; in her desire to make the woman proud,
had she lost yet another friend?

She didn't know.

She passed beyond her usual resting spot, still outfitted with small
bottles of ink and a few spare quills. She didn't stop, however; tonight
was not a night for writing. It was a night for walking, for thinking.
With such anger directed at her, the bookworm considered fleeing the
hallowed swamps of Abaddon. Thought of the various kingdoms, and how
they might receive someone as bruised and broken as herself.

New Thalos would take her --- if she wanted to be chained to a monster.

Verminasia would have no use for her.

Too small for Darkonin; too evil for Althainia.

Arkane was...Arkane. Out of the question entirely.

In the end, she decided that they simply wouldn't.

And she wouldn't leave. Temper and all, anger and all, accusations and
all, Rhyane was still her friend. At least to her. Even if she herself
had been forsaken, she would hold true to her words. Rhyane had earned
at least that much from her; had earned that fierce loyalty by standing
up to All manners of beast and men on her behalf --- the worst of both
worlds in one, really. It was something that she would not soon forget.

Life was complicated, she thought. Far moreso than ever advertised.

Her mind was drawn back to the present by a splash; the sound of someone
losing their footing within the bogs. Silently, she stalked the other
through the bogs. Through her bogs. She hadn't realized quite how much
she had come to view them as such until the cacophony had begun to raise
her hackles. It was profane, in a place where silence should reign.

A glimpse through the trees. An elf.

Wearing the insignia of the Shalonesti.

Life was complicated.

Except for those rare and lovely times when it wasn't.

Writer: Simani

Date Thu Oct 29 21:19:46 2015

Writer: Simani

Date Thu Oct 29 22:11:51 2015

Writer: Simani

Date Fri Oct 30 07:03:30 2015

To All Abaddon Shalonesti_Kingdom ( Imm RP Gragos Religion Fatale )
Subject Poor Unfortunate Souls (Part 2)

Poor and unfortunate soul.

Simani allowed herself a moment of self-pity. She had allowed herself
to indulge a little too much in the pleasure of the kill. It was not,
for her, a common pleasure; indeed, it had grown quite rare. But the
elf had been too tempting, too noisy.

And so the sounds of stumbling and flailing were replaced by screams
and sobs and pain. It was an offer ing to the bogs. The blood was bled
into the waters, the skin peppered with stabs from her quill. It had
been, on the whole, a lovely moment. One she would gladly have done
again. Except...

Her favorite blouse had been ruined. Pure white and soft, it had been
greatly treasured. Worn almost daily --- the bookworm didn't keep much
in the way of such things. She would need another. And that was more
troubling than the corpse. Shopping was a hated word for the woman;
with no voice of her own to offer to the conversation, she never really
ended up finding what she wanted. It was just another chance for a
stranger to beat her down and make her feel worthless.

The corpse. With difficulty, she forced her mind from the more anxiety
laden issue to the one at hand. The elf had been pretty enough. Off the
top of her head, she could think of several who would put the carcass
to good use. The Lich, for one; Takeri, another. Both enjoyed the dead
in their own particular ways. Both would probably adore the slender elf.

So how to move it?

The elf had been tall; taller than herself, at least. She was not the
strongest of humans; dragging it for miles to either one's abode was
out of the question. So was leaving it here. This was her spot. The elf
was still fresh at current, but it would not be so for long. And she
refused to be chased out by something as innocuous as a smell.

The easiest way to do anything was to do it yourself. She had grown up
hearing that mantra from a thousand father-figures (notably, none of
which actually -were- her father). Right along with All of the amusing
yet contradictory advise about ladies not getting their hands dirty
and finding a good husband.

In the end, she decided that less was more and that she could do enough
to at least make another's job easy. The corpse was laid with care in
her own spot, resting gently amongst the roots and the inkwells filled
to brimming with a fresh red ink. She positioned him as one does a doll,
careful and gentle, lest he should break.

When she was done, she began to scribe a note.

'S____,' it read,

I have prepared for you a small token; a gift to celebrate our recent
friendship. I hope you delight in it as much as I think you will. You
will find it in the bogs, beneath the willow tree.


P.S. The gift is of a perishable nature. Please pick it up before
dawn tomorrow for best results.

Writer: Vyasa

Date Fri Oct 30 08:18:53 2015

Writer: Damion

Date Fri Oct 30 11:13:55 2015

Writer: Sindraste

Date Fri Oct 30 20:40:10 2015

To All Simani Elf Abaddon Shalonesti_kingdom ( Storyline )

Subject Waste Not, Want Not

The shadows of the Swamp of Death seemed darker than the shade of other
places. It had always been that way. The deepest blacks in the night were
but, truthfully, darkened greys and blues in other places in Algoron, even
the forsaken swamps of Tropica could not raise a candle to the true depth of
darkness that draped over Abaddon's soggy outskirts like a funeral shroud.
This night, however, the shadows were alive.

Within the impenetrable depths of shadow, the faintest suggestion of
movement carried something across the surface of the water. It did not move
as any mortal thing should. It glided and it winked in and out of
perception, a puddle of ink spilled in total darkness as it meandered,
following instructions received by letter.

The only true indication of intelligence within the intangible cloud was the
periodic flash of deep crimson, a wink of light that was quickly stifled by
the shroud draped over it. It flitted, never truly touching the surface of
the swamp, never disturbing anything in its passing. It searched, seeking,
pouring through the fen and alighting only when it came upon the prize it

Riding boots came down upon solid earth as the shadows peeled back like a
stage curtain, black disgorging sanguine red and milky white, a mischievous
grin twisting bloodless lips as the charade was abandoned and Lethe'lain the
Lich emerged from behind its unseen disguise.

'Ah, me, my friends are so terribly generous.. ' The words were spoken to
nobody in particular or, perhaps, to the corpse that rested scant feet from
the gaudily-dressed elf, a critical eye quickly sweeping over the mangled
elf. Punctures peppered its skin, its blood almost entirely let out from
the deep wounds made by some strange object. A quill, like as not, the
necromantrix reasoned, stepping and stooping to get a closer look from
behind spectacles that glowed with a hellish inner light. The smell of
fresh death was still on the air, and the faint tinge of misery and betrayal
that colored its scent made the Lich grin wider still, revealing eye teeth
that were elongated and sharp, perfect for preying on soft flesh, 'Even half
a meal is better than nothing at all.. But..

The elf considered the proportions of its to-be meal, the ghost of a frown
flitting across smooth features before being dispelled by a sigh and a
giggle. To one so versed as the Lich, not even the matter of scale
perturbed her unduly. There was little blood left, it was true, but there
was yet marrow to be drained. It lacked the nourishing fluidity of vitae,
it would still be hungry when it was done, but it would suffice as a treat
to tide the Lich over until at least another night. The business of feeding
was simultaneously of great pleasure and irritation- a weakness to be
exploited while serving as a pleasing distraction from the boring day-to-day
in the Dungeon when there was little mayhem to wreak.

The chanting that spilled from bloodless lips was never meant for mortals-
secrets wrested from a darker plane altogether, a plane of shadows and
misery that was not unlike the true home of the being that wore the flesh of
Sindraste. The words fell like jagged-edged knives, each one pinning down a
vital scrap of some errant trace of necromantic energy coursing through the
Other Side, siphoning it away and channeling it through the corpse of
Sindraste, into the body at the Lich's feet. With a shuddering groan, milky
eyes opened to gaze up at the necromantrix.

'Oh, good. You're awake. ' spoke the Lich matter-of-factly to the
newly-animated zombie. A gloved finger crooked beckoningly, and the corpse
shakily took to uncertain feet, groaning All the while, 'We ought to get you
inside, before you spoil. This water cannot be good for you.
' With a gay
laugh, the vampire turned on its heel and stepped into shadow once more, the
zombie ambling after the faint outline of its maker into darkness.

Writer: Rafin

Date Sat Oct 31 19:44:12 2015

Writer: Rafin

Date Sat Oct 31 20:49:48 2015

Writer: Rafin

Date Mon Nov 2 02:05:51 2015

Writer: Sameal

Date Mon Nov 2 13:29:58 2015

To Althainia ( All imm rp )

Subject Being Found isn't always a Blessing

Sameal was trying to be a good soldier. He always wore his badge of
course, and the armor, and walked the streets looking for trouble, but.. He
never could shake that he was just a farm boy. A peasant nobody, no matter
what badge he wore. Not even paying attention, he rounded the corner and
stepped right in front of his brother. A grin spread over his face as he
grabs Sameal's tunic and doesn't even hesitate when he slams his fist into
the younger Sameal's face. Falling back, Sameal does nothing but nurse his
split lip, his older brother towering over him. 'Father is looking for you,
whelp. You're coming home, time to stop playing soldier. Besides, you'll
never be anything but a farmboy. Getting up, Sameal puts his thumb and
middle finger to his lips and whistles, the call piercing through the
streets of Althainia. In only a few seconds and entire patrol of city
guards surround them. 'Aspirant, is everything alright? ' Sameal nods and
points at his brother as he says matter of factly 'He has assaulted a member
of the IAM, he is to be arrested and put in the brig until the Crown can
determine his innocence.
The guards put the older man in shackles, a
dumbfounded look on his face. As he is taken away, Sameal calls to him
not ever come looking for me again. I am dead to you, I have no family but
the IAM.
Turning on his heals, Sameal returns to his duties, a busted lip
and a new found pride in who he was. An Aspirant of the Althainian Imperial

Writer: Valana

Date Mon Nov 2 20:10:16 2015

To Verminasia All Marcaus Immortal Roleplay

Subject An Empty Ship

Valana allowed a heavy sigh to escape her throat as she looked across the
dock with narrowed eyes. She blinked them shut for a long moment, the
scents off the water invading her nose. She inhaled deeply before blinking
them back open, her hazel eyes surveying the familiar surroundings. She
glanced up towards the swirling gray sky before turning on her heel to walk
towards the crew's quarters. As Valana approached the cozy setting, she
allowed her right arm to stretch out, her hand and nails finding the ships
walls to lovingly touch the weathered wood. Her hand sheepishly fell off
the sides of the beautiful ship, returning to her side before she quickly
snuggled into a hammock in the quarters of the Requiem. Valana allowed her
leg to lazily hang off the hammock, her foot touching the ships deck and
making eerie noises as the hammock swayed and her foot scratched against the

"A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor... " she whispered.

Valana moved her left hand to her hair, aimlessly catching a dread between
her fingers and playing with it a moment before she frowned; her leg on the
deck of the ship now shaking with irritation. The elf swiftly jumped out of
the hammock, her body filled with a sense of purpose. Valana watched the
now-empty hammock swing for no one, for what seemed like an eternity, before
a malicious smile crept over her face. Her head echoed with one thought,
"the time for action is now. ".

Writer: Tanaal

Date Tue Nov 3 09:42:16 2015

To All Abaddon Althainia

Subject Insufficient Funds (Part 1) - Aggressive Takeover

The fog was thick. Thicker than usual.

The muffled clopping of hooves beat over the earth with a hastened trot.
The creaking of the carriage and wagon, however, seemed to incite the trees
of Haon Dor to sing the very same sounds back. A Shalonesti Elf, just
barely over the age of 57, held the reins tightly with a white-knuckled
grip. Even though the Wild Elf ranger kept her vigilance beside him, it
still did nothing to dispel the creeping feeling that something was
decidedly... Wrong.

"I've got a bad feeling, Vargis, " said the cleric to the ranger, "First,
Farrant got slaughtered the moment we entered the keep, and then the next
thing we know, Hynd was crushed like a fly under that trap. "

"Stop being such a pessimist, Dall," reassured the ranger, "We've looted
enough to give them proper memorials the likes that would make the royals
WISH they were dead just to have the honors."

The cleric anxiously shushed the ranger, "The road through Haon Dor isn't
safe at night, you know that! Reports of All sorts of dangers have been on
the rise...! "

The ranger nonchalantly twisted the valve on her lantern, and hung it high
on the wagon pole. "Don't be pusillanimous. We have Mreg in the back,
anyhow. Well be f--" The ranger cut herself off. "Stop the wagon. Someone
in the road..."

The wagon came to a full stop, and the cleric and ranger came down from the
wagon. "Why wagon stop? " bellowed a voice from within the bonnet of the
wagon. "Shush! Mreg, keep quiet!!" Scolded the cleric. The cleric knelt
down next to the figure in the road, and shook the figure's shoulder. "Are
you alright, there? "

Tanaal rolled over, groaning, "Ohh... My head... Brigands! They took my
jeweled abacus! I think I've been poisoned... Urk... I'm... Gonna
vomit... "

"Take him behind the tree, Dall," the ranger said impatiently. The cleric
sheepishly obliged, helping Tanaal to limp behind the tree. Retching sounds
came from the shadows, combined with the occasional splatter and the sound
of a tumbling body onto the ground.

"Poor fool... " murmured the ranger. "Will he be alright there, Dall?"



Still more silence.

"Mreg...??" Intoned the ranger, drawing her bow and stalking towards the
tree. "Mreg! I think we have a situation...!" Staggering out from behind
the tree, the profusely bleeding cleric lumbered towards the ranger
suddenly. With nerves more raw than she would have liked to admit, the
ranger let loose an arrow that hit the cleric square between the eyes.
"Confound--MRE{-{-G! "

Writer: Tanaal

Date Tue Nov 3 11:08:50 2015

To All Abaddon Althainia

Subject Insufficient Funds (Part 2) - Reappropriation

"MRE{-{-{-{-G...! " roared the voice from within the wagon's bonnet. With a
swipe, the entire canvas was cleaved away, and a hulking Giant Ogre snarled
in the direction of the action. "MREG CRUSH! MREG CRUSH! "

The giant ogre stepped off the wagon, and lurched toward the ranger, huffing
fiercely in anticipation of violence. "He's still out there..." The ranger
said in a worried voice.

"Mreg! " bellowed the Giant Ogre, pulling a wand from his pouch and waving
it. "BUH-PUH! " he said spiritedly, completely ignorant of the fact that
wands did not need an incantation. Nevertheless, the wand did its job, and
a ball of light rose high into the air, lighting the immediate area as
though it were dusk.

A rustle came from the opposite side of the road, and the ranger let loose
an arrow into the bushes. "Damn this...!" Lamented the ranger, drawing
another arrow into her bow. The Giant Ogre poked at the body of the cleric
idly. "Him dead! " he grunted. "Vargis! Dall d--"

The Giant Ogre growled low and gutturally when he saw the glint of bloodied
steel poking out through the ranger's chest. Slowly, it slid back, and the
ranger fell to her knees, showing Tanaal behind her with a savage grin.
"Vae... " Tanaal breathed out, licking the blood off the broadside of the
blade in his bladeshark. The Giant Ogre let out a warcry, and lunged for

Air. Empty Air.

The Giant Ogre frantically peered about, wondering where the Dark Elf had
disappeared to, moreover just in front of him. As he peered to his right, a
sharp pain shot up his left side. His delayed reactions to pain from the
warcry subsided, and the Giant Ogre howled from the caltrops that dug into
his feet. As the Giant Ogre looked down at the ground about his feet, he
felt a sudden impact on the right side of his neck. The effects took
immediately, and the Giant Ogre staggered about and fell to his knees.

Tanaal seemed to rematerialize from the shadows themselves. Raising his
two-handed blade, and swund, bringing it across the shoulders of the Giant
Ogre, and whispering in his second breath, "...Victus."

As the decapitated body fell to the ground, Tanaal casually sauntered over
to the bleeding ranger, who was still moving despite her injuries. He
gripped the hair on the back of the ranger's head, and jerked it back,
exposing her neck. "I'll take that loot, thank you. Consider it a...
Toll! For the road!"

The ranger weaved in and out of consciousness as blood came pouring out her
mouth. "Ah, no no, that won't do..." Mocked Tanaal, "We can't have any
waste, now, can we...?" Grinning wide, he lunged his face into the neck of
the dying ranger.

Writer: Theya

Date Tue Nov 3 14:31:30 2015

To All - Necrucifer Religion Roleplay

Subject The Madness of Routine

Days began to turn into weeks. In a world that was constantly dulled,
the colors faded and life seemingly less... Well, charming, complimented by
hours upon hours of solitude, Theya began to entertain a certain form of
madness. Or perhaps it would only be labeled as such by a few.

In the mornings, Theya would rise and make the trek into New Thalos. There,
she paid for enough food for the day, little as it was, and made a stop by
the bath house to cleanse herself. It was less about vanity and more about
the constant heat causing her to sweat and thus soil her clothes with it,
which lead to an unfriendly odor by the end of the day. So she would clean
herself and her clothes, and enjoy the breaking of her fast while her
clothes dried. Typically, it did not take very long with the desert air and
sun. When that was done, she would make the return journey to the temple to
the west.

Once returned, Theya would spend however long it took to read through her
missives and write any correspondences that were required - these days, that
was usually none. Then she would set about cleaning the temple itself.
Sweeping the sands out, and dusting the grains from the surfaces took some
time, with the constant effects of the dry breeze, but there was also the
matter of candles, and the pit of sacrifices and alms. She would polish the
fountain and on certain days she would oil the leather tomes to keep them

After the cleaning of the temple, Theya would enter a rigorous exercise
routine. She would push her body into exhaustion, which took more and more
time each day as she became stronger and faster. She even entertained a
brief notion that she had more muscles, now, than some of the males she knew
and allowed herself a brief period of amusement at the notion. Then, after
training it was time for prayers while her stomach growled and complained.
She would say each of the tenets of Higher Evil, and repeat His Will and His
Way before offering her thanks for yet another day of purpose. Then, she
allowed herself a light meal of fruit and water along with some jerkied
strips of whatever poor creature had looked appetizing before.

After her light lunch, Theya would settle down upon her bedroll in the
corner of the temple and write. She made copies of the Book of Evil,
placing them in the alms pit, and was pleased when they disappeared, knowing
that yet another was in the hands of those that needed its inspiration and
instruction. She would also do what research she could, though she had
scoured the temple from top to bottom, and did not yet have access to the
massive, ancient library of Storm, which was something of a shame, but

When the sun finally began to set, Theya would spend a few moments
stretching, and then pray again. This time, she meditated until darkness
swallowed the world, then would speak softly on whatever lessons she had
learned that day. She gave thanks for the many voices praying on her
behalf, and for the guidance of the dark figure and for the sanity that had
been returned to her, and so much more. It was a never ending litany of
gratitude, and of begging for His gaze. At times, she was moved to tears
with longing to be reborn in His service.

After her final prayers and meditation, Theya consumed one more light meal,
then would search out with her senses. If there was anyone she could speak
to, or anything she could do, she followed that through before returning to
the Temple one last time to sleep.

And that was the madness, doing the same things each day, until the cycle
became numbing, like the gray haze she lived in. Until her inner fire of
passion and desire was tempered, and burned low, awaiting more fuel or
perhaps the stirring of what was already there. But she waited, and prayed,
and hoped. As the days turned to weeks. And silence was her only

Writer: Amyth'lynn

Date Tue Nov 3 19:50:57 2015

Writer: Anathaelynn

Date Tue Nov 3 19:56:22 2015

Writer: Anathaelynn

Date Tue Nov 3 21:12:55 2015

Writer: Maithion

Date Wed Nov 4 00:16:19 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Wed Nov 4 06:40:11 2015

Writer: Maithion

Date Wed Nov 4 18:02:28 2015

Writer: Euterah

Date Wed Nov 4 19:36:55 2015

Writer: Tanaal

Date Thu Nov 5 03:37:34 2015

To All Abaddon Zoeanna ( Imm Gragos RP Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Too Close for Comfort

Tanaal was anxious. He lacked the skill to forge arcanium.

"The blade must be forged, " he uttered, lording over his vault.

Render the blade. It must be done. This, I command!

"Yes, my Master... " Tanaal whispered sibilantly to himself, the voice of
the dark-cloaked figure still resounding in his head.

Even without the skill, Tanaal was determined to render the blade, one way
or another. Although he lacked the skill, himself, there was no stipulation
that the blade needed
to be rendered by his own hands. All he had to do was
guarantee that in lieu of his own hands, that All the other materials were
hewn, gathered, and processed exclusively by dark hands. And gather those
exact materials, he did.

The bull elephant leathers were accounted for and counted. Tanaal stroked
his fingertips across the tanned segments, still oily from tanning. The
gliding of his fingers across the surface released the scent of the leather.
It was acrid, it was harsh, and it was pungent... But it was pleasing to
him because it meant progress. Tanaal stacked the segments, and pushed them
into his vault.

Shifting around the contents, Tanaal pulled out a number of dreadwood
boards. Again, he savored the touch and texture of the wood, relishing in
the fact that they were indeed handled exclusively by darkened hearts. A
grin played upon his lips, and at once Tanaal felt the urge to cackle to
himself with glee. Grunting, he thrust the boards back into his vault.

At last, after much investigation and labor to move the material, Tanaal
pulled out one of the many bars of arcanium he had gathered. Again, Tanaal
regarded the metal. It was heavy, to say the least, as was All metal. But
this metal was unlike any others, as it was handled exclusively by dark
hands. All the material was there. The plan was coming together. Tanaal
would have his blade.

Stacking the bar carefully among the contents of his vault, Tanaal closed
the hatch in the vault wall, wringing his hands. The first phase of his
plan was complete. Now, he had to find dark hands to forge the blade,
itself. As the excitement and trepidation from imminent success grew inside
of Tanaal, he gripped his head and howled in pain, staggering about the
vault room and eventually leaning against the skull-laden walls.

Writer: Tanaal

Date Thu Nov 5 03:44:08 2015

To All Abaddon Zoeanna ( Imm Gragos RP Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Too Close for Comfort (Part 2)

"Stop! Stop! No more numbers! I'm nearly complete! Stop it!! " he
cried out, as his own mind quickened. The residual echoes of Tanaal's old
existence haunted him aggressively, and proved to be quite a hinderance at
times when a careful touch was needed. If he didn't finish the sword soon,
the latent dissonance between his mind and the dark soul of his new
existence would tear him apart from within, leaving him to be an enfeebled
fool, trapped inside his own mind for the rest of his days. Time was
running out, and the blade was key to his survival.

Tears streamed down Tanaal's face from the intense pain. He wasn't sure
what would come first: his own mind effectively destroying him, or willfully
killing himself just to make it All stop. Tanaal gripped at his abacus, and
tried to placate his mind by thinking about logarithmic growths and discreet
waveform transformations. In desperate times, he figured, he would go along
with the flow of stream of thoughts that had invaded his mind... It was
easier to deal with that way. But, he didn't want to be lost on a tangent
as he usually would have, not like the old days. He was compelled to focus.
He needed to get the job done. He was driven now; driven by a force and
urge that had not been present before. He would have no lasting solace in
his numbers. Now, his numbers were a distraction, and the force inside of
him would tighten its grip, slowly squeezing the life out of him until he
complied to resume the work of his mission... Even if it killed him.
Tanaal heaved, having momentarily brought his mind under control.

"A bladesmith... Zoeanna said she knew a bladesmith... " Tanaal whispered
to himself aloud, trying to ease the suffering of his mind by outwardly
voicing his reassurance.

"Soon... Very soon... I will succeed! "

Writer: Phylip

Date Thu Nov 5 07:48:42 2015

Writer: Rhyane

Date Thu Nov 5 14:10:39 2015

Writer: Phylip

Date Thu Nov 5 18:17:33 2015

Writer: Tanaal

Date Thu Nov 5 22:39:53 2015

Writer: Rellinath

Date Sat Nov 7 00:28:26 2015

Writer: Rellinath

Date Sat Nov 7 00:29:17 2015

Writer: Rellinath

Date Sat Nov 7 14:20:47 2015

To All althainia nordmaar nadrik zandreya imm RP

Subject Departure

Rellinath stood before the portals in the castle of Althainia, and took a
deep breath. Switching over to the Elvish tongue, he yelled for Minah, and
after a few moments, his panther companion joined him.

"Come on, Minah. We're going home. "

The panther obediently took a step towards the portal to Icewall.

"No. Not that home. Not yet, anyway".

Minah stopped, turning to look at Rellinath curiously.

"We're going to the Great Forest. Home. Away from civilization, and its
corruption. Do you remember a long time ago, when we got lost in the
forests of Gathna at night, when you were barely more than a kitten, and we
survived only for the efforts of the hunters that prowl the woods? We've a
debt to repay, one I mean to see through. "

He sighed to himself. "And in doing so, perhaps I can recover my honor at
this disgrace. "

The panther stepped through the portal to Arkania. Rell looked around, one
last time, then followed behind, leaving Althainia behind him. Once on the
other side of the portal, he reached up to his neck, untying the drawstrings
of the leather pouch around his neck, freeing the holy symbol of Zandreya
that he'd kept from his childhood and letting it rest next to the symbol of
Nadrik that he wore. And with that, he strode eastward, through the city of
Arkane, to the Great Forest beyond, then turned north.

Perhaps in the forests of Gathna he would find redemption, answers to the
questions that'd been raised within him, an end to the torment that had
found its way into his soul.

Perhaps he'd just find his end.

Writer: Zola

Date Sat Nov 7 18:30:24 2015

To All Abaddon Bloodlust Verminasia Darkonin Immortals Fatale

Subject X Inevitability X

In the swamps surrounding the city of Abaddon, in the darkest, muckiest,
foulest part of the swamplands, there stood a cypress tree.

It towered above most others, reaching high up towards the overcast skies
above, its branches like the claws of a giant grasping at the wind. It
towered nearly
a hundred feet in the air, many feet above its surrounding
brethren. Indeed, many of its fellow trees surrounding it had withered and
died from lack of sunlight,
or else been choked and crushed by its spreading
roots. The tree, with no sentience or consciousness to speak of, continued
to live with cold ruthlessness that
pleased the Priest of Death.

Stepping up to the trunk, Zola cast his hollow gaze behind him to ensure the
others had kept up. Dark twin-tails bobbed as Lilya hopped from dry patch
to dry
patch, largely keeping her handwoven dress as clean as she kept close
to Zola. Lagging further behind, Phylip and Phylicia, the twins,
both bushy
haired and bright eyed, were speaking quietly over
something or other. Zola
couldn't make it out despite his excellent hearing, but it could not have
been All that important. Behind them as Dmitri, looking
regal and almost
out of place clean amongst the soggy surroundings. His head was held high
and his gaze clear, and his attention did not waver as Zola drew
attention to him, and then to the tree.

"Mark well this, " he said, indicating the cypress with his scythe, using it
to point. "This tree has stood for hundreds of years, " he explained. "It
has grown tall and strong. It does so by ruthlessly crushing any that would
stand in its way. Those trees that would keep it from the light, or the
water, or the soil."

He paused to let his words sink in. "So too must you be ruthless in gaining
what you want. No one will simply hand everything to you, no matter who you
are, or you're your family is, " he added, casting a meaningful glance
amongst the children, many of whom were from noble, powerful Abaddonian
families. "You and you alone make your own path, obtain your own greatness."

A longer pause this time, as Zola looked up at the cypress tree, admiring it
in his own way as the children gathered around him. Fresh blood, as they
somewhat affectionately called by the older generation. They were the
future of the Blood Lands. And this next lesson was equally important to
them, but
it was a reminder for Zola as well.

With his scythe he reached up and dug the sharp adamantium edge into the
cypress bark, dragging it sideways along the trunk. This he repeated three
more times,
an opposing sideways slash, and two horizontal slashes above and
below the first. An easily recognizable symbol: the hourglass.

"Here we see the duality of life, " he said, drawing their attention to the
image. "This mighty tree, no matter how long it lives, or how tall it
grows, shall one day die. So it is so with All things. Death is
intertwined with life. All one day feel the reapers scythe."

They nodded obediently, listening to his every word. One or two even seemed
to understand. At least in part, which was All he could hope for with
no matter how mature or wise. Those that did not would say they
did, nod their heads, then forget in a fortnight or so. But the lesson
would sink into their
minds until one day it truly would make sense. When
they realized the truth, as Zola once had. The truth of the world:

To live was to kill.

Writer: Elrendel

Date Sat Nov 7 19:30:03 2015

To Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom All elf ( Zandreya )

Subject Musing on Fellowship

There was a serenity to be found, walking the forest trails in the
moonlit hours. Predators roamed the undergrowth, but here in the Vallens,
there was a delicate equilibrium, a respect fostered through symbiotic
existence that kept the night beasts at bay. The elven figure who stalked
the underbrush was nearly kin to them, so familiar was he with the forest's
law. Keen eyes scanned the gloom, and the wooden spear strapped to his back
made no noise, doeskin boots doing the same as he strode, unseen and
unheard, only his thoughts for company.

'They have treated you well. ' The silent voice of his conscience ever had
something to say, even though the taciturn figure shared little of his
thoughts with the outside, 'You must repay their hospitality. ' A stern set
of his jaw answered the thoughts, even as his hand brushed aside a branch
that had grown into his path. The whippy limb sprung back into place as he
passed, leaving no trace of his crossing.

The Shalonesti kin were kind, it was true, but then, so too did they abandon
his wild kin in the calamity of ages past. Bridges had been mended since
those tumultuous days, but trust lost was never easily regained. The trail
crossed the Shalinastra, the solid make of the slender wooden bridge
resonating with his thoughts nicely as he strode without fear, the tranquil
water below glimmering under the bloody light of a full Red Moon. For all
of their good intentions, there was always a reticence. He never meant to
be unkind nor ungrateful, but it was difficult to truly warm up to any of
the city elves whom he had half-spurned for many months now, even as a
nominal citizen of the elven city.

'The Queen holds you in regard. ' A booted foot missed a step and scuffed
in the dirt on the far side of the bridge, and the wild elf frowned fully.
The Queen was a kindly sort, but soft. Not high-bred like the Shalonosts,
not given to their arch mannerisms, but a simple sort. Friendly, but likely
to anyone she met. Any kind words had to be taken with that sort of
consideration. It was simply the way she was, not any attribute specific to
him. 'She would help you find what you sought. ' Elrendel snorted.

The city's night lights glimmered against his back as he climbed the path,
the incline becoming steeper as he ventured westward. Respect was not
something simply given, but earned, and he had made a fine mess of
ingratiating himself to others. He was taciturn and blunt. He was
ephemeral and ethereal, moving unseen throughout the crowds simply to avoid
conversation, and yet...

And yet he still maintained vigil over those around him. He made an effort
to assist those who asked him, even when it was an inconvenience, there was
the desire to do right. His gait slowed and he glanced over his shoulder,
gazing over the treetops, just below eye-level from his place in the
foothills. For All of his aloof mannerisms, he still recognized the faint
sense of home when he felt it. Perhaps it was time to leave his hidden
groves. The Shalonesti people were a goodly sort, and it was time to repay
that kindness.

The elf turned fully, feeling the earth below him tilt downward, back into
the forest proper. As he strode, his conscience filled him with a small
warmth of satisfaction. For the first time in a long while, a smile touched
his angular features. Perhaps there was something to be had here after all.

Writer: Sameal

Date Sun Nov 8 10:21:17 2015

Writer: Kailyri

Date Sun Nov 8 15:06:34 2015

To All Althainia Saelaira Jennaya Jainie ( Taliena Immortal RP )

Subject Winds of Change: Gales of Laughter

It had been a long time since Sunstone Valley had been host to visitors,
and even longer since the peaceful place had been disturbed. This day, the
cool autumn weather had set in and lain with tender grace upon the seasoned
crops a layer of frost that had quickly vanished with the rising of the sun.
Even so, a cool breeze danced through the valley, a welcome respite upon the
sweat laden necks of the farmers and animal tenders that worked in a lazy,
frenzied way to prepare for the quickly approaching winter. There was a
crispness to the air that carried the sounds of bleating sheep and the honks
of geese as they flew overhead. Also carried upon the tendrils of air was

Kailyri, along with Jennaya, Saelaira and Jainie, sat on benches and moved
about the small building that had been recently constructed in the year to
house a meadery operation. Neat rows of barrels sat to one side, while a
work station - little more than a table with bench seating - filled the
center, and the brewing vats occupied the opposite side. Tools hung on the
third wall where a small fireplace was nestled, while a large barn door took
up the last remaining wall. Outside, it would be easy to locate the ten
constructed bee hives that buzzed with activity even this late in the year,
thanks to hardy bees and temperate valley weather. Inside though, was where
gales of laughter poured from.

With the abdication of the crown from Aliera and the promise of a brighter
future under their new Emperor and Empress, vibrant energy had swept through
Althainia, flooding the empire of light with new vigor. A sense of jubilant
celebration permeated the streets and the people, and with it came a need
for a proper coronation and feast. Such was why the women had gathered
together, their hands working through the rhythmic patterns of bottling the
aging mead and ensuring they were properly labeled. Conversation was gay
and free, the women sharing stories and jokes as they worked. Those that
did not want to drink enjoyed fresh spiced cider or juice, but in All the
commotion and bonding, a few of the cups had been mixed up, leading to every
last one of them glowing with the honey mead.

As the bottles of the Reserve were filled one by one, Kailyri reflected on
the moment - of the warmth and merriment within it as everyone seemed to
breathe a little easier and step a little lighter. No one forgot why, or
what the future held for them in the next few days, but for just this one
there was elation and giddiness of the spirit. She imagined not one of them
had laughed so hard or long in ages, and that was regrettable, but she could
only hope that it was a portent of the days to come.

The women worked well into the afternoon before they were treated to a meal
from Mama Sunstone - fresh breads, cheeses and fruits along with a hearty
meat pie and tea lightly sweetened with honey. When they had All had their
fill, each went their separate ways after embraces and waves and words of
good will. Sincere words from a heart lightened of worries and cares. They
all came from different backgrounds and held different desires and purposes
within life, but for now, they would each share in the warmth of the one day
where the winds of change had blown strong, bringing beautiful gales of
laughter and a promise of a grander future.

Before Kailyri took to her rest that night, slipping into the arms of her
beloved and letting him draw her close, she prayed that the portent was what
it seemed and that they were not too late.

Writer: Euterah

Date Mon Nov 9 14:45:00 2015

Writer: Rellinath

Date Mon Nov 9 15:31:54 2015

To All althainia nadrik imm RP

Subject The Seraph's Blade

Rellinath stood, wordlessly, in front of the tree, his eyes transfixed on
the corpse hanging from the rope caught up in the branches. He knew this
man. His name had been Sameal, a fresh recruit to the Army who'd started
right around the time he'd resigned his commission as General. He'd noticed
the wounds on the man's face a few days ago as he'd passed by him in Market
Square, but hadn't said anything. Perhaps he should have. Maybe what had
come to pass here could have been averted. But no magic short of that of
the Gods themselves could wake a man from the slumber of death, so there was
nothing that could be done for him now.

Or was there?

Rellinath drew a blade, slashing through the rope holding the body aloft.
He caught the corpse as it fell, lowering it to the ground and quietly
removing the man's badge of service from his cloak, slipping it into a
pouch. He looked over the body for any sign of a religious symbol...
Finding none, he found a slab of rock and scored upon it a rough holy symbol
of Austinian, Father of Goodness, thinking that the best choice for a
memorial in the absense of other guidance. He laid the body to rest and
laid the stone over the gravesite, after a few moments of silence offering a
military salute to the fallen soldier.

And then, he fell back. He made camp, securely, at the edge of the grove
where he'd found the body. He camoflauged his campsite carefully, so that
prying eyes would not be able to make him.

And he waited.

The next day, the sounds of laughter caught Rellinath's attention. Someone
was coming. He tensed and perked up his years, closing his eyes and opening
his mouth slightly to better augment his hearing, allowing All of his
attention to focus on the sounds of those approaching. And he heard it,
clearly, the sound of a man gasping in surprise, followed by the words,
"What's this? Where's the bastard's body gone? "

Rellinath stood. He drew his swords. He came out of his camoflauge,
striding defiantly towards the men. They reacted with shock, drawing their
own weapons and turning against the man, shouting challenges at him. And
then their challenges turned to jibes, to mockery, for they knew him well
enough. They knew he was a servant of Nadrik, the god of honor. Their
taunts came unabated, for they knew that the servants of Nadrik sought
justice, and would not exact vengeance. Such a concept was dishonorable,

There is a thin line between the wholly selfish act of revenge, and
righteous vengeance.

Rellinath stopped, five feet from the men, and whispered, barely audible
enough for them to hear: "His Wrath Undoes The Wicked. "

And he charged, blades flashing. The men screamed in unison, but for all
their bluster, neither was terribly well trained in combat, and Rellinath
was a soldier by profession. He had led Althainia's army for many years.
He had held off a fire giant single handedly while his comrades escaped a
battlefield. He had honed his skills to a razor's edge. These two stood no

He cut them down, with no hesitation. Their crimes against this man marked
them as beyond redemption.

He left the bodies, nailed to two crude crucifixes, one to each side of the
grave he had buried young Sameal in. Around each of the murderer's necks,
he hung a sign that read:

This be the wages of Sin, the price paid for Evil committed
against the Innocent. Evildoers, ye be warned!
In His Name, The Seraph's Blade Falls!

Writer: Traice

Date Mon Nov 9 17:34:35 2015

Writer: Theya

Date Mon Nov 9 23:47:00 2015

To All - Necrucifer Religion Roleplay

Subject Tears of Atonement [Worms Don't Fly]

She hadn't meant to cry.

The urge had come seemingly out of nowhere. It pressed upon her heart,
filling her chest with a heavy ache that spread to her lungs. As it became
more and more difficult to breathe steadily, she felt her neck tense, then
her jaw. The tears prickled at her eyes, causing small pains that draw even
more of the traitorous fluid forth. In the end, weighed down by the
overwhelming need, she had hung her head, hiding her face within her hands
while she wept.

"All you have been through is considerable, but not enough to make you
noteworthy. And yet, you have been tossed about by the gales of greater

The figure had watched her calmly, the normally icy cold gaze not quite so
frigid. Not quite so menacing as it had once been. She had not attempted
to hide her lack of shock at his next words. What he said made sense and
was something she had suspected, though perhaps not from him. Then had come
the words that had broken the damn within her, uncovering a well spring of
deeper emotion she had thought she had already dried out.

"And yet, you have proven you are far more capable, a keener edge and mind,
than perhaps even he gave you credit for."

What should have been a moment of joy, brought her agony. The shame she had
been attempting to atone for had slammed forward in full force, a beast that
would no longer be ignored. She didn't have the strength to fight it. Not
after a physically draining day of training. Not after three weeks of a
world that was dull and lackluster. Not after his smile.

She felt like a worm. A worthless, pathetic worm that had somehow thought
itself a dragon. Gods, she had been so stupid. All those years wasted in
ignorance and pride. All that time she could have been working alongside
those like the figure that guided her on her journey. So much she could
have been doing for God and His coming rather than moping around in her own
skin. It was too much to bear and she crawled from the pew, blinded by her
tears, to prostate herself before Necrucifer's image. She wasn't sure if
her words made any sense amongst her sobbing, but she poured out the agony
of her soul to Him. She had been so wrong, so lost. She didn't deserve His
gaze, but she craved it more than anything. She didn't deserve a second
chance to serve Him, but mercy help her it was All she could think about
from her waking to her rest. She even dreamed about it.

Theya cried for what seemed hours and when she could no longer cry, she felt
utterly empty - more keenly aware of the absence of a divine spark within
her than ever. Raw from the crying, her chest ached, her eyes were swollen,
and she tasted blood, which likely came from a throat turned ragged.
Dragging herself into a weak kneeling position before the statue, it was
hard to focus upon anything. Instead, her mind latched upon the most recent
memories she possessed as if it were a feeble grasp at her sanity.

"Think hard on if you want to open that doorway, Theya... I wonder... Will
you be disappointed or relieved should you find you are not bound by my

She hadn't been certain if she was meant to hear the question. She also
hadn't been sure if her answer, whispered into her hands as she had started
to cry, had been heard.

Dragging herself back into her preferred spot in the pew, Theya took a deep
breath and exhaled slowly before she allowed herself to lie down, using her
satchel as a pillow. She did not need to sleep on the matter at hand - she
wanted answers. She only hoped she would not pay a price she could not

Writer: Traice

Date Mon Nov 9 23:55:19 2015

Writer: Zorreau

Date Tue Nov 10 07:06:22 2015

Writer: Pashhur

Date Tue Nov 10 12:56:42 2015

Writer: Sorien

Date Tue Nov 10 13:52:46 2015

Writer: Euterah

Date Tue Nov 10 19:14:23 2015

Writer: Traice

Date Tue Nov 10 21:19:24 2015

Writer: Traice

Date Tue Nov 10 21:22:54 2015

Writer: Traice

Date Tue Nov 10 21:23:13 2015

Writer: Traice

Date Tue Nov 10 21:39:37 2015

To Shadow Verminasia All ( Roleplay Ampersand )

Subject |The Hunt for History v5|

Traice fell down the chasm, witnessing the horrors of his life on display
before him. As the minutes turned to hours, hours into days, days into
weeks, weeks into years, Traice fell. Through the depths of Algoron as the
greenish veil turned into a raging chasm of fire. He forced himself to
focus downwards, away from his torment, witnessing for the first time the
pool of magma awaiting him below.

The spell of the long fall broken he splashed into the molten rock.
Immediately his skin erupted in flames, burning and cracking as tortured
screams scratched and clawed their way out of his throat. He saw his bones
and muscle melt and ooze out of his cracked skin. The world went black as
his eyes bubbled out of their sockets.

Suddenly, nothing. He laid on barren rock, his breath heavy and quick, his
throat still seered from the heat and screams. The force of his own voice
and torment fading he became aware of the millions of other cries that had
erupted around him.

Traice stood and steadied himself, quickly running his hands over his
alabaster skin expecting it to slough away and reveal the cracked mess hed
witnessed moments ago. A small outcropping of jagged rock sat nearby and
with one breath to calm himself, he began to climb. He knew he needed to
get the lay of the land and for that he would need a good vantage point.

Slinging his exhausted body over the top of the rock his blood ran cold at
the vision that met his gaze. Monstruous creatures walked in the distance.
Enormous and disfigured, the smallest of them would dwarf even the largest
mammoth like an ancient wyrm to a Kender. Rivers of blood poured into
rivers of magma. Acid poured from the skies in the distance, burning the
ground below it. Wraiths floated by, faces contorted in silent screams.
Traice was aware of a pulse beating through the air in time with his
heartbeat. And over All this never did the screaming stop. A thousand, no,
a million souls, screaming in agony, terror, and pain.

Overwhelming terror and dread flooded Traices normally calm demeanor. He
was lost in the Abyss. A place of terror he could never have imagined
before. Soon, he knew, his screams would join the millions.

Writer: Tanaal

Date Wed Nov 11 03:01:39 2015

To All Abaddon Deccan Zoeanna Maithion Zola Eylam Kotone Simani ( Imm Gragos RP Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Fatal Miscalculation


Tanaal contemplated his subjection at the hands of Abaddon. No warrant was
given. No declaration. No warning. Nothing. All that came was a sudden
assault, his defeat, his bondage, and a deepening hatred for the hipocrisy
that damned him to this suffering.

So long as you remain in Abaddon, you will honor Lord Fatale. Honor me by
honoring Fatale. This, I command!

The words of the cloaked figure resounded in Tanaal's mind. Tanaal was
meant to be a scion of unity in Darkness. A messenger of the Master's plan,
to see that All the mortals within Darkness stand as brothers and sisters
against the forces that would seek its eradication.


Tanaal felt at the enchanted collar around his neck. Surely, this wasn't
the Master's plan? To only be a martyr to the Master's message? Abaddon
seemed to have turned against him, despite his works to advance its sphere
of influence and bring them to the fold that they would be strong against
its adversaries. The spikes of the enchanted collar were painful. They dug
into his flesh, and his wounds were sealing around the finely-needled pricks
that bore into his neck. This would leave a scar.


Tanaal groaned. He thought of Zoeanna. It brought him some semblance of
comfort in All this. Tanaal had hoped that maybe Zoeanna would appeal to
her uncle to see reason. Maithion could not see it. Kotone could not.
Beyond All doubt, Vys surely would not. Zola simply walked out on Tanaal,
when he told of why he did not simply break the collar by force of will.

Because he was commanded not to. Because his mission was to bolster
Fatale's strength. Because he was to be a symbol of unity in Darkness.

And as such, he was reviled.

Writer: Simani

Date Wed Nov 11 08:40:01 2015

To All Abaddon Deccan Zoeanna Simani ( Imm Gragos RP Religion Necrucifer Fatale )

Subject Where Fools Tread... (Part 1)

Some will inform you that honest men are the most hard-headed of
fools. They will protest that naivet is the gravest of sins against
the darkness. A million reasons will be given, justifications for such
a view. Often with satisfaction in their voice.

Simani knew better than that.

The most hard-headed of fools were hard-headed fools. Gazing past her
books and papers at the piles of complaints and the plethora of raised
concerns, there was no denying that fact at the moment. The newly minted
wizardess had never raised her voice in her life; indeed, had never had
a voice to raise, but now? Now she truly, honestly wished she did. Her
eyes returned to the missive in front of her, written to the kingdom as
a whole.

'every time my loyalty has been called into question, then I prove
my innocence time and time again...'

She shook her head. In All of her time here, only two of Abaddons
citizens had ever had their loyalty called into question. Both well
deserved. The man was lucky to still have his head, several times over.
And yet he still openly called out the Count and made a fuss, instead
of trying to resolve the issue. It was like trying to teach a stone to

For long moments, she put aside her own issues, and gazed full on at
the written record of Tanaal's. He was well meaning, at least. But well
meaning like an executioner at a birthing party. In his heart of hearts
he would always believe he was right. No matter how many told him he
was wrong. It was both touching and frustrating.

'...and was forced to endure this humiliation as the Undertaker
could not in any capacity furnish proof that you demanded either my
incarceration or execution...'

This was Abaddon. The fact that he was alive, and not lying dead in
the swamps should have been proof of the official nature. She frowned
at the missive, shaking her head again. She wasn't sure if she'd be
able to get him out of trouble, this time. Wasn't even completely
certain it was worth it. He'd shown how quickly he could get himself
back into it. Her eyes drifted to another of the missives before her.
Skimming. Trying to find a loophole she knew wasn't there.

'It seems that you are unaware of the scope of my intention. The
"request" that I submitted was merely a formality. The Soul Render
must be forged and rendered.'

He had, quite literally, damned himself with that missive. With the
direct attack on the Count's authority. And that was only one of a
cacophony of charges. The Wizardess ran a hand through her hair, the
unruly black tangle mussed enough without her help. That a single man
could be so disastrously disruptive to everyone, offending people
throughout Abaddon, and abroad as well...

'However, I know that the penalty for blatant insubordination is

A sigh. He had named his own punishment. He had agreed that what he
was threatening deserved death. Acknowledged it fully in missive to the
Count and others. And yet --- he had proceeded. And once more feigned
ignornace of the consequences. Simani rose from her desk, shaking her

She needed some air, and the bogs? The bogs were calling.

Writer: Khorvash

Date Wed Nov 11 12:50:35 2015

Writer: Damion

Date Wed Nov 11 13:01:15 2015

Writer: Euterah

Date Wed Nov 11 15:36:30 2015

Writer: Traice

Date Wed Nov 11 20:34:33 2015

To Shadow Verminasia All ( Roleplay Ampersand )

Subject |The Hunt for History v6|

Traice wiped the blood and dirt from his mouth, his tongue thick with
dehydration. The beast before him snarled, twisting its nine legs in a
macabre dance. It may just be All the time hes spent in this netherworld
but the dual stingers made him think of a scorpion. Although how anything
so perverted could be compared to any earthly creature was lost on him.

The hideous creature struck and Traice spun away, his cloak shredded from
relentless combat over the past few months. Rocks and gravel erupted from
the place he had just been standing. The beast struck again, over and over,
and Traice continued to evade the blows. In a small gap between strikes
Traice sensed his opportunity and flicked the frosted whip forward. It
landed -smack- against the creatures right eye, spraying gore in all
directions. A demonic howl sounded from somewhere deep within the beast and
it lashed out once more, splitting Traices armor nearly in two, leaving a
vicious gouge in his breastplate.

The creature chittered and snapped its claws at Traice before lunging
forward. Traice ran forward to meet the damnable beast. Rocks sprung from
the ground as he fell to his side, sliding underneath his foe, his gladius
ringing free as he slid it up and met its mark. He skidded to a stop and
whipped back around, ready to avoid another strike, only to see the Scorpion
demon twitching on the ground. Its entrails and viscera pooling next to it,
its acid blood eating away at the stone where it fell.


Traice growled savagely, home and hearth a long-ago faded dream. Now his
thoughts were drowned out by the never-ending screaming that filled this
realm. He had roamed the shadowed wasteland desperately searching for any
way out. He didnt even care if that way took him home, he just wanted out.
Directions were impossible here as the heavenly bodies could never be seen.
Terror was his new Sun and Shadow was his new Moon.

During his travels he had witnessed demons inventing new and particularly
cruel ways of torture. He watched the scorpion creatures rip people in
half, flinging them upside down as they sucked the blood from their veins,
and marrow from bones. Packs of demons had roamed the land, finding other
lost souls, herding them beyond the horizon for some malicious purpose.


Traice waited for the last of the acid to drain from his kill, before
crawling within the carapace for the night. The armored body dulled the
sounds of the screaming somewhat, and he was finally able to think. His
fingers moved through his long unkempt beard, enjoying his first time at
peace with himself in months.

Writer: Zola

Date Thu Nov 12 02:40:39 2015

To All Abaddon Bloodlust Verminasia Darkonin Immortals Fatale

Subject X Fire and Blood X

During the winter months, parts of Algoron could become very cold. This
went doubly so on the aptly named Icewall, which had snowfall measured in
feet, not
inches. Where a man could fall and die and be buried in the snow,
lost until the next years thaw, or never found at all. It was a frozen
wasteland of snow and ice.

And it still wasn't enough to quite cool off Zola.

His fury was such that even amidst the howling winds and falling snows,
steam rose up off of his hooded head and cloaked shoulders, a great fire
burning with behind
the ever-present mask of the plague doctor he wore. His
anger made manifest, his irritation given tangible form. His hands
tightened around his scythe as he used it
in the manner of a walking stick,
marking his path as he wandered the white wastes of Icewall, determined to
get lost, or else wear himself out before he did something
he might regret.

Because right now he was tempted to kill something.

Now that in and of itself wasn't a bad impulse. On the contrary, it was one
he encouraged, both in himself and many others. But attacking someone more
than you was suicide, and suicide was a sin in the eyes of the
Lord of Murder. He favored coldly executed killings, not senseless,
rage-inducted bloodshed. And following that
line of thought meant if you
could do not do it alone, you did it in a pack. The followers of the Dark
Pantheon were not sheep, like their enemies. They were wolves.

And now that fool idiot has chosen to run with the wrong pack... or else is
trying to go it alone. That imbecile.

So furious and focused were his thoughts, Zola almost did not notice the
snow yeti as it lunges out of the white at him, teeth and claws bared to
rend him apart. His stride
did not pause as he deftly repositioned the
scythe in his hand and lashed out with the wicked black blade. He simply
kept walking forward as the yeti's arm fell to the
snow at his feet,
stepping on it with no more thought than he would a rock in his path.

The beast gave a roar, clutching its shoulder as hot blood spilled onto the
ice. Quickly it scampered away, vanishing amidst the snow, but it wouldn't
get far before it bled
to death. Zola, however, did not care in the
slightest. He pressed on.

Writer: Drew

Date Thu Nov 12 08:39:35 2015

Writer: Maithion

Date Thu Nov 12 13:51:33 2015

Writer: Maithion

Date Thu Nov 12 13:56:08 2015

Writer: Simani

Date Thu Nov 12 17:19:14 2015

To All Abaddon Deccan Zoeanna Simani ( Imm Gragos RP Religion Necrucifer Fatale )
Subject ...Headaches Follow (Part 2)

The bogs welcomed Simani with the same rising mists and fetid fumes as
always, thick and rich with the explosion of life unchecked. Predators
chased their assorted prey. Prey hid from their assorted predators. And
the water drip-drip-dripped in the assorted ways it always had. Simani
wished that one of the predators would see her as prey; or perhaps a
wild deer or boar would flee from her approach. She wished for many
things, but most of all, she yearned to hurt something.

Tanaal had brought his foolishness to one of the inevitable ends that
she knew must come. Expulsion from the city in disgrace, carved with the
symbol of his failed bond. In some ways, it was better than death, she
supposed --- in others, it was probably worse. Regardless, as the
Wizardess of Abaddon's Coven, it fell to her to deal with the mess that
he left behind.

A chipmunk scurried past --- she spared it.

There were piles of reports to sift through. Official announcements to
be made. His laboratory to be ransacked and cleaned. His research to be
sifted through and. Well, and. He had been a shoddy researcher at best,
more caught up in words and fantasies than actual studies. His research
would be destroyed. Mostly to save her the further headaches of extra

The paperwork. Oh my. The paperwork. An owl hooted within a tree. Too
far away.

The mute adjusted her glasses, stepping deeper into the swamps, looking
for someone or something to hurt. The paperwork. Promotions to consider,
new recruits to touch base with, All with a look at filling in the gaps
of leadership. She would be hard pressed to find able enough recruits
without resorting to the same sloppy tactics Chlaus had used to select
Tanaal and herself.

A nightmare of paperwork. A snake slithered through the trees, and yet
she restrained her hand. Not worth it.

Really, she wanted to kill Tanaal. Not so much for the insubordination
or the treason or the other death-worthy complaints, but rather for the
headaches that his stupidity caused her. For a moment, she closed her
eyes, gathering her strength for the pains to come.

A rabbit darted into her path. It was not so lucky as the chipmunk.

Where was Vyasa when she needed him?

Writer: Anathaelynn

Date Fri Nov 13 08:53:02 2015

Writer: Anathaelynn

Date Fri Nov 13 08:53:19 2015

Writer: Anathaelynn

Date Fri Nov 13 10:11:00 2015

Writer: Anathaelynn

Date Fri Nov 13 17:10:45 2015

Writer: Maithion

Date Fri Nov 13 17:58:15 2015

Writer: Deccan

Date Fri Nov 13 21:01:22 2015

To All Abaddon Aleksandra Zola Simani Tanaal Gragos Imm rp religion

Subject + The Count's Courtesy +

The smell of smoke and fire filled the air.

The tavern's fireplace kept well fed to heat the shadowy place of rest. It
would not be someone's first choice to stay the night or even their third
for that matter but, given it's location deep in the heart of the swamps,
there was little choice otherwise.

It was nothing more than a large room with a few scattered tables and booths
and a bar along one wall. Stairs to the few rooms available climbed along
the back wall. The floors were dirty with dried mud carried in from the
swamp outside. It was not a clean place but it would serve it's purpose

Deccan sat in a corner booth as far from the light of the fire as he could
manage, shadows his only companions. He had his hood pulled up so as not to
be recognized though this far from the kingdom proper it was unlikely he
would be either way.

He crushed the widowsbane, grinding it between his fingers as he glanced
around the room at the few patrons stuck here for the night with him. He
sprinkled it into the ale in front of him. A distant cousin of nightshade,
widowsbane was a faster acting poison with even nastier symptoms. A man a
few tables away caught his attention.

The man spoke with his companions, emboldened by the ale he was drinking.

"... A bloody WEASEL is what he is! Let'n tha' bloke live! Wha's the
point o' ah death warrant if yer jus' gonna let the bastard go anyway?

His companions chuckled awkwardly. Clearly more aware of their proximity to
Abaddon and what such talk could mean heard by the wrong ears.

"Shut it, Bart. Ya stupid? Wha' if some'n from dat Abaddon heard ye? "

He huffed and threw his half empty ale in the direction of his companion,
missing wide.

"So wha' ef they did!? They'd agree ah'd wager! " he turned to face the
mostly empty room and announced, "Ye All heard meh! Wha's tha' Count gonna
do? Capture me en give meh ah firm warn'n? Ha!

He laughed and Deccan smiled darkly.

"Another round for that man! " Deccan announced loud enough for the bar
wench to hear. She nodded as she walked by quickly.

The man turned to face Deccan, seeming to notice him for the first time and
sported a big grin.

"I like this one! " he said pointing at Deccan, "Ye agree with meh then? "
he said moving his chair to join Deccan at his booth.

Deccan flashed a dark smile and gave the man an approving nod, "Far too
merciful for a Count I say.

"I'll drink t' tha' then. " the man said seeming quite proud of himself.

Deccan slid the poison laced ale across the table towards the man, "[gPlease
' he said with a charming smile.

Without a second thought the man grabbed up the ale and threw it back, ale
spilling from the sides of his mouth as he took a hardy swig. Deccan
brushed off his hands at the side of the table.

"Drink deep, friend, " he said his dark gaze fixed on the man, "Courtesy of
the Count.

His companions watched from their own table, a grim realization growing in
their eyes. Widowsbane was particularly fierce and you could see it in the
man's eyes. Surprise mixing with fear in a delicious cocktail of emotion as
blood began to trickle from his nose and mouth.

Deccan rose almost unnaturally quick from the table, drawing his dagger and
thrusting it deep into the mans chest leaning down to pat him on the back in
an almost friendly embrace before slipping his dagger back beneath his

He picked up the man and slung his limp form over his shoulder, "Come now,
friend. Let's get you home.
" he said for the room to hear. The man's
companions didn't budge as Deccan made his way towards the door.

It was growing late and he still had a grave to dig.

Writer: Laniath

Date Sat Nov 14 08:42:35 2015

To All Imm RP ( Taliena Religion )

Subject Totally At A Loss

Laniath sat in the Temple of Taliena as she had been for many weeks now.
She would come and go throughout the day only leaving to freshen up or when
work beckoned. She looked up at the statue, as she had so often, her eyes a
bit sad as she thought of her beloved husband Ernaut.

He had been gone for so long and All attempts to contact him failed. She
sighed heavily as the thoughts flooded her mind. So much time had passed
and the house now stands empty for even she does not enter for the sake of
being alone. She kneels before the statue and bows her head.

"Blessed Lady, You who shower the lands with love and peace. Set Your
loving touch upon my heart and heal this pain I feel. Not just mine but
also for those across the lands who may also be feeling as I do right now.
Grant your blessing of love and peace throughout Algoron to show that love
has no boundaries. I ask this in Your blessed name. Amen

Laniath stands after a few moments and looks at the paperwork in her hands.
She looks up at the statue once more before heading out the door and back to

Writer: Phylip

Date Sat Nov 14 11:42:36 2015

Writer: Traice

Date Sat Nov 14 23:46:58 2015

To Shadow Verminasia All ( Roleplay Ampersand )

Subject |The Hunt for History v7|

Traice leaned up against the carapace he had made his home for this last
year. His eyes looked out over the horizon, watching the blood-red
lightning crack down from the skies as a new acid rainstorm began to take
shape off in the distance. His first few moments of peace since hed
arrived. He had noticed, that on the precipice of the storms, the demons
and abominations sought shelter, to hide from the burning caress of the
burning rain. He closed his eyes, and began to dream of a life long ago, so
faint he could barely remember it.

The rush of battle exhilarated him as he watched himself in third person cut
into his Slayer opponents at the Cross Roads. The sound of metal on metal,
screams and shouts while each side laid waste to each other.

His mind drifted to the thoughts of Liviya and his son. Watching her cradle
him at night while he stayed up, looking over maps and reading his books.
The soft smiles given to him, and the gentle cooing of his son. He
remembered holding him while he slept. Good memories. He looked down at
his son, smiling while he began to burn. Lenhardt erupted in plume of
blackened flames, jolting Traice awake with a scream.


His eyes burned as he opened them, screaming. White puss ran down his cheek
as the acid rain began to fall from the sky. He jolted upright, gripping at
his face as his the skin following his melting eye began to drip away with
it. He dove underneath the shelter of his carapace as his skin dripped onto
the floor like wax. His eye continued to burn, the acid digging its way
further into the eye, causing more of it to boil and turn to liquid as it
ran out of the socket.

Traice howled savagely, digging his gauntleted glove into his eye socket,
plucking the melting eye with a cry of pain, tossing it onto the ground
while blood dripped down over the melted skin. His eye finishing the last
of its melting process, just a white and red pool soaking into the rock.

Traices once boyish appearance now forever changed. His trademark crimson
eyes gone. Replaced with a hollowed eye socket, and a grey orb in the
others place. The skin down his left cheek best compared with that of a
candle held too close to the flame. The skin melted away, bits of his bone
seen underneath.

Writer: Theya

Date Sun Nov 15 02:02:32 2015

To All Shadow Verminasia New_Thalos ( Necrucifer Religion Roleplay Ampersand )

Subject Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part I

Theya leaned upon the railing of the Explorer's Treasure, her fingers lightly
interlaced as her evershifting eyes gazed out upon the oceans. The Treasure ran
before a storm, dark clouds on the horizon giving promise of a massive tempest
that was sure to give hell to the men and women that worked upon the vessel. A
less seasoned crew might have tried to wait it out, or endure it at sea, but
the seemingly ageless and capable bodies of the Treasure simply ran before the
gale winds, making time as they headed for Tropica. As such, the seas beneath
the aged beauty were a little choppy, but for someone as familiar with ships as
Theya was, the journey itself was rather enjoyable. While she awaited the lapse
of time that would see them to her destination, she let her mind wander to the
conversation that had lead to her journey.


"I would invite you to sit with me on the escarpment but...well, I still find
your aura to be distasteful."

She had grunted quietly in response, her own distaste for her current state of
being clear in the sound. "You are not the only one. I was starting to wonder
how many murders I would need to commit in order to stain my heart enough for
it to begin changing."

"I happen to know where you might find an encampment of cultists if you care to
find out. Malachive's lot, such are the wages of their sins."

"An encampment of Malachive worshipers? Do share." He knew her well enough to
know she was curious, to know that she craved with every fiber of her being to
engage in any task or trail that would benefit God or His servants. Every tiny
opportunity awoke the fire within her, and staved off the insanity that her
dulled, grayish world threatened her mind with.

"Think you are up for the task?" he asked anyway.

"That depends on the intel you have to give me about it. One ranger can do
quite a lot of damage with proper information and time to prepare."

"Follow the trails near the ancient pyramids in the jungle towards the river
that runs through the region. You will find evidence of an old mine, abandoned
some many years ago. When you begin to come upon their...sluices? I'm not sure
if that is the plural of sluice. Ah, either way, when you see them you will be
close to their encampment. The mine was largely collapsed and much of its
entrance reduced to molten rock. They have begun excavation once again. That
cannot continue."

"Excavation? Do the mines hold something valuable? I would not presume they
care for gems or ores."

"No. But the mines are a passageway into somewhere you are not to proceed."
His tone had been stern, filled with warning for her to not ask too many
questions about things she had not yet earned the right to understand. She
had taken it in stride and pressed on with more important concerns.

Writer: Theya

Date Sun Nov 15 02:06:56 2015

To All Shadow Verminasia New_Thalos ( Necrucifer Religion Roleplay Ampersand )

Subject Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part II

"Do I need to worry about anything coming out of there while I am tending to
this business?" she asked.

"That is a possibility, but your concern should be the cultists themselves."

"My concern is eradicating them and not having something sneaking up on my
ass," she had told him, unable to help the dry chuckle that followed. She was
not familiar with how much stealth he dealt with, or how often he worried
much about the possibility of being caught in a trap. "I will prepare, and
have a look in a few days. Do you want me to gather any information if I

His response surprised her. "I will be entering those depths by another
means and may return with two others, God willing. I have no intention of
sneaking up on your ass. If I decide to, I would prefer that you see me


A shout rose up from the crow's nest, a loud, shrill whistle piercing the
air and Theya's memory. There was the usual bustle of making port as the
crew worked quickly to bind the sails and every other detail needed for the
Treasure to dock successfully. When All was done, one of the crew members
went to inform the woman with short hair she could disembark, but nobody
could find any trace of her, not even fingerprints on the railing. Pulling
her hood forward to more deeply conceal her face, Theya stepped into the
thick, humid wilds of Tropica.

She did not take the customary paths. She traveled alongside them, her
cloak concealing her as it was designed to do, while she moved with silent
watchfulness. Her body bobbed and weaved with the shadows, lithe and full
of the strength of her weeks of relentless training. Her eyes roamed in a
grid pattern, taking in every detail possible; her ears strained against a
cacophony of forest noises for anything out of place. She even moved with
her mouth slightly open so that she could taste the air as she scented it,
every sense finely tuned toward keeping her own stealth and detecting what
might possibly be watching and waiting in the depths.

Even so, she went over the information she had been given, the play of
words in the back of her mind as she traveled.


"The encampment is not overly large. Perhaps a dozen men and women. Mostly
worker-types but a few are combat hardened."

"That is the information I was looking for. I'll know them when I see them.
Any trained beasts, that you are aware of?"

Writer: Theya

Date Sun Nov 15 02:10:56 2015

To All Shadow Verminasia New_Thalos ( Necrucifer Religion Roleplay Ampersand )

Subject Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part III

"Animals for labor for certain. Dogs or the like, I do not know. My scent of
smell is keen, but I was above the canopy." Silence had filled the air for a
time as Theya's mind absorbed the information and considered her options and
what she might need to take with her. Before she had made much progress in
her mental preparations, his voice filled her mind once more.

"Three things. Do not let any escape to report back to the Warp or other
encampments. Do not under any circumstance, delve deeply into those mines.
If any of them are within, I will find them. And finally, do not die."

Endearing. That was the word. Or was it? All too clearly she recalled whom
she was dealing with. Trust could only stretch so far. Emotions could only
be allowed to run so deeply. Humor could only be allowed so often. More
importantly, this was a serious task, not to be taken lightly. A single,
regrettable misstep could, in fact, spell her demise. So rather than reply
with laughter, as she had first been inclined, she centered herself and
spoke with solemnity.

"As you wish it, m'lord, so it shall be."

"Excellent. The Warden Atennim and I make to retrieve Traice Kylen, the
fool that he is, from a predicament he has found himself within. I depart
in the near future."

"An urgent matter, then. I will prepare tonight."

"Not entirely. I am not concerned with slipping past them, only the state
we might be in should we need use that same point for egress."

"I understand. You need the path of your exit cleared of difficulty. To know
that you when you emerge there will not be yet more dangers to face. I will
clear the area, and the remains, then linger nearby to ensure it remains
that way."

"Exactly what I need."

They had bidden one another the farewell, and then each departed to make
what preparations were needed. For her own part, Theya almost always had
within her possession what tools one might find necessary to survive with.
It was not much, and after she stocked up on a few more rations, she had
set forth to do her part.


Several hours later, after trekking through the dense underbrush of the
lush, Tropican jungles, Theya stopped and crouched down, letting herself
become utterly still and her mottled cloak do the work of concealing her.
The mottled fabric was designed specifically to upset the eyes, to blur
whatever looked directly at it and guide it away, or confuse her outline.
While the cloak could work well in shadows of a city, it was designed for
use in the terrain. Enveloped by thick foliage as she was, with the full
coverage of the canopy high overhead, she was practically undetectable.
Along the way, she had even found plants and mud to rub on her skin so
that her human scent would be less detectable, but her protection came
mostly in the way she moved, or did not move, whenever it was required.

Writer: Theya

Date Sun Nov 15 02:12:22 2015

To All Shadow Verminasia New_Thalos ( Necrucifer Religion Roleplay Ampersand )

Subject Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part IV

Her eyes, concealed with the rest of her face by the shadows of her
hood, fixed lightly upon movement that could just be detected beyond the
thinning of the foliage. An orc, shirtless and carrying a pick over his
shoulder, walked toward the outskirts of an encampment that had seemed
to rise up out of nowhere. The jungle was thick and blocked sight lines
well, but the concentration of people and beasts carried with it a very
particular aroma that Theya had been able to pick up in the muggy air
from some distance away. She stayed still as the orc did his business
then headed toward what appeared to be a giant pile of congealed lava.

Figuring she was in the right place, Theya backed slowly away from
the camp. Circling around, she paced the perimeter from a safe distance
and eventually found a vantage point within a thick tangle of vines on
a lower branch. It was not entirely comfortable, but it allowed her a
good view. After settling in, she watched, and waited. As she studied
those within the camp, she became dully aware of the aches of her body,
of the nearly crushing weight of the humid air atop her fatigues and
her cloak, and of the incessant humming of insects - though the last
was taken care of almost entirely by the herbs she had rubbed across
her skin. When she dared, Theya nursed from her canteen and ate light.
Slowly, over the course of the day, she learned much.

There were exactly fifteen people within the camp. It looked like
almost any other mining operation. Tents were pitched, and there was a
communal fire where the cooking was done. A few bench tables were for
eating meals, and a few paths lead away from the main area. One lead
toward the area where the works chipped away at the large mound of
stone - progress had been made and the workers drifted in and out on
a regular schedule, depositing what they loosened in a discard nearby.
Another path lead to where Theya had been earlier, an area designated
for relieving the demands of the bowels. The last path was something
of a mystery.

From what Theya could tell, it was the universal path. Likely the
heretics used it to reach the Warp, and as the changing of the guard
was done in the late afternoon, that was where a pair of large men
had appeared from the jungle and another pair disappeared. Of the
two that had returned, one appeared to be a half ogre - large and
brawny, with a thick brow, he carried most of his weight in a gut
that was likely as solid as the rest of him, which was very. He did
not concern Theya much, but his companion did. The wild elf as tall
and graceful, but not the normal kind. His gait, his stance. The way
he looked about, it All spoke of a lethal killer. The sadistic kind
that did it simply for the pure giddy pleasure of toying with others
and inflicting as much agony as possible and nothing more.

She would have to watch him carefully.

Writer: Theya

Date Sun Nov 15 02:14:24 2015

To All Shadow Verminasia New_Thalos ( Necrucifer Religion Roleplay Ampersand )

Subject Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part V

More bits of information came and went. The beasts that the people
used for hauling the carts of heavy stone were dumbed, but were very
large and stabled in a lean to that looked like a decent storm would
blow it over. The cooking fire was not well tended and greasy pots
and pans sat about the crackling flames that had too many coals near
it. The guards were a mixture of big and tough, quick and wily, and
experienced to well seasoned. What she sought most however, took the
longest to find.

In stations like this one, there was always a runner. An single
person whose task it was to run whenever something went bad. Not a
coward by any means, but a messenger. They would report to wherever
reinforcements were, and bring in the backup. What Theya needed was
to find the runner, and make certain that they were the first to go,
but not only that, they needed to go silently so that nobody noticed
their absence. It was only when the evening meal was being prepared
that she finally discovered what she was after, and it seemed she
had arrived on the most opportune day.

The woman was nothing truly special. Slender and unremarkable in
her plain features and her simple dress. She had dark skin like all
the natives of Tropica, and her hair was twisted into dreadlocks. A
scarred marking on her back showed her as a favored one, though. It
was while the workers were getting ready to enjoy their food that
the woman was approached by one of the guards and given a missive
and a bag. The woman nodded without a word and took a drink before
she headed for the main path. That was her runner, and Theya let her

It was not unheard of for messengers to be sacrificed to lure out
those lying in wait. Those of the Warp had special reasons to be a
bit more paranoid than the rest of the world, even on a good day. So
whatever the message was to be delivered, Theya let it go. If and
when the woman returned, Theya would be waiting for her. Considering
their proximity to the clan hall of the twisted bastards, she would
probably return the next day, if not some time in the night.

The night was a long one thanks to the density of the canopy of
the jungle, but Theya remained watchful as torches were lit. The
guard rotated again around midnight. The messenger returned around
dawn. The routine of the workers and guards were rhythmically all
familiar. The patterns and habits became quickly familiar in a way
intimate only to those that knew the routine of stalking, waiting
to learn so much about the prey as to be able to imitate them to
a degree of eerie perfection.

Writer: Theya

Date Sun Nov 15 02:16:11 2015

To All Shadow Verminasia New_Thalos ( Necrucifer Religion Roleplay Ampersand )

Subject Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part VI

By the second afternoon, Theya slipped away from the camp. She
traveled a distance she felt comfortable with and then carefully
stretched out her stiff limbs. She relieved herself, ate and also
quenched her thirst moderately. It would do her no good to become
sluggish off of food and drink in this climate. Finding a root
system of one of the larger trees that had an opening, Theya made
her way in amongst the brambles and twisted deep until she found
a way to get comfortable. Wrapping her cloak around herself, she
let herself drift into a light sleep. She would need to regain
some of her energy for the events to come.

When Theya woke, she guessed it was getting close to midnight.
The night sounds and the depth of the darkness gave her clues as
well, and she allowed them to become familiar again before she
worked her way out of the root system. Any small change would be
an alert, an indication that something was wrong, and she needed
to be alert to the signs.

With care, Theya followed the minute markers she had left for
herself - tiny, trivial things that nature was equally capable
of creating, and that only the fastidious eye of a ranger on the
alert would even think twice about. Question everything. Another
lesson her mentor had drilled into her. By the time she made her
way back to the camp and ascertained the timing of their routine,
she calculated that she had about an hour until the guards would
rotate again.


Writer: Tanaal

Date Sun Nov 15 06:38:55 2015

To All Abaddon Simani Deccan Maithion Zola Zoeanna Carrionmaw ( Imm Gragos RP Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Zero Sum (Part I)

Tanaal contemplated on recent events. Why did he suffer? Why was he
prosecuted? Why? The question burned into his mind fiercely. The entire
situation seemed very wrong, down to the participants.

He contemplated the variables at play.

Abaddon's Wizardess couldn't even cast a single spell; her hasty promotion
was borne from the vaccuum that Chlaus's disgrace yielded. She was the only
one in the coven who served without question. Yes, of course! They
couldn't stand to have anyone threatening the power base of that insular
cabal. A mute, meek librarian was their logical choice. Tanaal, however,
would contend otherwise. As a mathematician, he thought the illogic was
blaring. It was a shame that Abaddon felt otherwise.

The Count put out neither bounty nor warrant for Tanaal; a clandestine
cryptocidal decree was All that he felt was necessary to put a stop to
Tanaal. As insulted as Tanaal was, there was a grim, morbid flattery in it:
The Count considered Tanaal so much of a risk to his power base that he had
been targeted by an 'anything goes' secret order. An order that he narrowly
survived. Perhaps Maithion had failed, seeing as how Tanaal was not killed?
Time will tell if Maithion would pay the price for what could be easily
twisted into incompetence.

Tanaal opened his whitelist book and scritched in Zola's name. Even after
exile, Zola had offered insight on how to regather efforts. Zola spoke of
lambs and wolves, about being part of a greater "pack". Tanaal wondered,
however, if Zola's consolation was simply the mark of a black sheep among a
flock of insipid heretics bent on maintaining their insular little world by
any cost necessary.

His thoughts turned to Zoeanna...

Poor Zoeanna. Her entire support system was composed of sycophants that
wanted nothing other than Tanaal's demise. Her letter was disheartening.
Broken vows? Tanaal struggled to remember what vow he had broken. He broke
no vow, having patiently waited the entire time for response from the Count,
only to have the official response be in the form of an assassination
attempt. But Zoeanna did not seem to express care. At this point, it
mattered not what poison "they" fed her. She was tainted now, by the toxic
environment that Abaddon so ardently sought to preserve.

Writer: Tanaal

Date Sun Nov 15 06:41:32 2015

To All Abaddon Simani Deccan Maithion Zola Zoeanna Carrionmaw ( Imm Gragos RP Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Zero Sum (Part II)

In his deathlist, he wrote the names of those whom he felt betrayed by.

Simani, for not standing up for him. She had encouraged him in the first
place to make a writ of appeal to the Count. When it came time for him to
face trial for his impertinence, Simani remained silent. Not that she could
say anything, as she was a mute. But, she didn't even motion for
interjection, even after everything she had done.

"This could have been avoided if she had just stepped forward and accepted
responsibility!" Tanaal thought.

This betrayal by proxy of inaction was inexcusable. She averted any
responsibility and left Tanaal to suffer for it. She was forever, at least
to Tanaal, to be marked for death.

Maithion, that lapdog of an assassin, was ordered to bring Tanaal in. No
explicit order was made to kill him, but he went straight for death, anyway.
This was, to Tanaal, inexcusable, as he had been working to champion the
cause of unity in Darkness. To Tanaal, this strike against him was a strike
against this cause. Maithion would have to die.

Count Deccan, without a warrant, called for Tanaal to be hunted down.
Deccan managed the kingdom like a little cult. They wanted to run their
kingdom like an exclusive cult? Then so be it. The Master will deal with
him and his kingdom when the time of reckoning came. But that is not why
Tanaal wanted Deccan dead. He wanted to kill him simply for the humiliation
that was carved into the side of his neck; a constant reminder of the very
kingdom that shunned him for his fight to be faithful to the Master.

Writer: Tanaal

Date Sun Nov 15 06:45:51 2015

To All Abaddon Simani Deccan Maithion Zola Zoeanna Carrionmaw ( Imm Gragos RP Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Zero Sum (Finale)

Tanaal gripped at his only copy of his published book on Blood Magic.
For All the misfortunes he had faced, he still had a master copy on hand.
If the Blood Kingdom did not care for what wonderful bounty he had offered,
then another will. He thought of the ban on Blood Magic decreed by the
kingdom, and lamented his position. After so mcuh work, he was suddenly
rendered as the fifth wheel of a wagon. There wasn't much research Tanaal
COULD do... The Count's royal decree placed an indefinite referendum on it.
How could he have contributed when the fruit of his contribution was
declared forbidden fruit in and of itself?

Tanaal pondered briefly about the Red Dragon, Carrionmaw. Throughout
Tanaal's sham of a trial, Carrionmaw was there witnessing. For All his
imposing presence and show, the Red Dragon seemed to be, against All the
odds, marginally sympathetic. They were both of Necrucifer. Carrionmaw, of
all beings, seemed to have sought to encourage Tanaal's work to the glory of
the Master. In this capacity, Carrionmaw was right: It would have been
wiser to simply leave to Verminasia in the first place to resume his work.
Tanaal contemplated on this; he had become greedy.

The crown jewel of Tanaal's research, a blade warped by blood magics, would
have been in danger if Tanaal didn't outsource it to that Verminasian. In
this, Tanaal took solace. It was one of his smarter moves. The blade was
guaranteed to be forged to specification. Not even Abaddon could interfere
with it now.

The scar on the side of Tanaal's neck throbbed, and at once, he felt a wave
of rage overcome him. Revenge filled his mind. He stopped, however, when a
sudden realization came to him, evoking a cold, calculating calm:

Eternal damnation leaves plenty of time to plot your revenge.

Writer: Phylip

Date Sun Nov 15 10:34:35 2015

Writer: Maithion

Date Sun Nov 15 16:46:01 2015

Writer: Liviya

Date Sun Nov 15 21:21:27 2015

Writer: Theya

Date Sun Nov 15 22:51:52 2015

To All Shadow Verminasia New_Thalos ( Necrucifer Religion Roleplay Ampersand )

Subject Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part VII

Theya slid in behind one of the guards as he gazed out into the forest. Her
hand shot out to clap over the woman's mouth. As the guard went to remove the
hand, raising their arm, Theya slammed home the razor sharp dagger. The blade
bit deep through the armpit, punctured the ribs and pieced the lungs and the
heart. The guard slumped immediately, coughing and choking on their own blood
as the twitched and spasmed. A moment later, Theya snapped their neck. Grateful
the female guard was not much larger than her, Theya hoisted the body over her
shoulder and moved deeper into the jungle off of the trail. She shoved the now
lifeless body under a thick over growth of vines, then moved on.


The next guard was busy rolling a cigarette, yawning as he worked. It was
nearly time for his rotation to end, and his thoughts were less on his job and
more on his craving for nicotine, food, and sleep. One moment, he was licking
paper to seal the wrap of his fix, and the next he was gasping for breath as
his body slowly shut down. Once he was down, his body grossly distorted, Theya
watched the small, brilliantly colored frog hop away through the foliage. She
did not bother with the body.


With only a short time left until an alarm would be raised, Theya moved
quickly, slipping into the camp alongside the deepest shadows. Normally, in a
situation where there was a larger camp, Theya would have strode in as though
she belonged there. This was a smaller group though. Everyone knew everybody
else, making it impossible not to be noticed. So she wrapped herself in the
rhythms of the darkness, attuned her every fiber to the flicker and dance of
their silent symphony. She made her way to the tent where she had seen the
messenger go to rest. Sure enough, she found three bodies asleep, and one
that sat in a chair, reading a missive. She considered her options. A few
were non-human and would quickly smell the blood if she slit a throat. Theya
reviewed what she knew of the camp quickly and made her decision.

Moving to the first sleeping figure, They gently applied pressure on both
sides of their neck, right over the carotid arteries. They died without ever
waking, as the oxygen to their brain was cut off and kept that way. The next
was on their side, snoring lightly. Theya cupped one side of their head as
she pushed a long rod with a sharpened point into their ear. It caused a
minimal amount of bleeding, but the result was instant as the puncture to
the orc's brain. The third was the runner, and They implemented the same
technique, giving a little twist just to make sure. The blood that pooled out
of the woman's ear was the assurance Theya needed. That left the male that was
reading in the low light of a lantern.

Slinking up behind the male, Theya stood and kicked hard at the back legs of
the chair, grabbing the man's head at the same time; she forced his head down
hard against the ground. He let out a muffled cry of surprise, but then his
skull split with the impact, leaving blood on the ground. Assured that he was
either dead, or would be without treatment, Theya left him. Anyone that came
into the tent would be left believing the others slept and that this one had
suffered an accident.

Three. Four. Five. Six.

Writer: Theya

Date Sun Nov 15 22:53:44 2015

To All Shadow Verminasia New_Thalos ( Necrucifer Religion Roleplay Ampersand )

Subject Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part VIII

Slipping from tent to tent quickly, Theya put more bodies to rest, as silent
as possible. Her goal was to wipe as many out as possible before the alarm was
raised, and to get to the workers before tackling the guards. The former were
far more likely to run, while the latter would be seeking to crush the threat
to their operations. Only one more was asleep in a tent. That left Theya with
two guards to worry about, including the one elf Theya expected trouble from,
and three workers. As Theya was making her way toward the entrance to the mine,
she ran out of time.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

There was no shout of alarm, but there were quick series of movements as one
form went to the tent of another. Theya sank back into the shadows of the area
where the cultists relieved themselves and was almost as startled to find the
half ogre guard as he was to find himself caught with his pants down, rather
literally. He tried to swing at the cloaked figure, but she ducked under the
laborous blow. The half breed took several sharp strikes to his kidneys and he
stumbled with a growl of pain. He turned, swiping again to try and catch his
assailant, but Theya ducked again. She stopped wasting her energy on beating
at the thick skin and muscles as heer opponent snarled and managed to free a
rather nasty club, the head wrapped in glistening thorns - likely poisoned. Or
at least fetid enough to cause enough infection to be concerned about.

Circling quickly to the side, Theya drew her saxe blade. She sidestepped a
downward arc from the hefty club and slashed out with precision, severing the
tendons in the wrist and bicep so that the half breed had no choice but to
drop the heavy weapon. His howl of anger and pain filled the air, but in that
moment of recoil, Theya stalked forward rapidly. She slammed the blade to the
hilt into the male's gullet, and split him wide. He grabbed at his abdomen to
hold in his innards and in that moment, Theya yanked her blade free to plunge
it up under the half ogre's jaw and into his brain.

Feeling pressed for time, Theya gave less focus on stealth and more to her
efforts of quickness. Only two guards remained - a bakali and the wild elf,
and then it would just be the workers so deep within the cave that they had
no idea the fate that awaited them if Theya survived the last two opponents.

Slinking back toward the camp, Theya tried to prepare herself for what might
be waiting for her. The howls of the half ogre had not been very silent, but
until her opponents either found her, or revealed themselves, she still had
the upper hand. They did not know it was a single assailant, they did not
have any idea how well trained she was, and likely they would believe that a
bit of reinforcements remained in their buddies out in the jungle. Or maybe
that was foolish. She prepared for the worst, and she found it.

As Theya emerged from the path, an arrow slammed into her thigh, delving
deep and lodging fast with sharp barbs. Spitting out a nasty curse, Theya
quickly dove into the underbrush before a second arrow hissed through the
air where she had been. The shaft of the lethal projectile oscillated as it
seemed to protest finding dirt rather than its intended victim. Theya used
her saxe blade to cute the shaft of the arrow off, knowing that she did not
have time to assess and tend. No doubt the arrow had come from the wild elf,
and also no doubt that it was going to have some sort of toxin on the tip of it
to try and slow her down. Moving at an angle, Theya went for deeper cover. If
she was going to get those workers, she had to get this over with quickly, but
there was no room for further error.

Writer: Theya

Date Sun Nov 15 23:25:17 2015

To All Shadow Verminasia New_Thalos ( Necrucifer Religion Roleplay Ampersand )

Subject Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part IX

As Theya circled through the brush, she felt her head getting lighter, and
her skin begin to itch. Her blood began to heat beyond the warmth of the jungle
night and her breathing began to become more difficult. The bastard wilder had,
in fact, managed to poison her and while her body worked to fight against the
effects, she was left to face the two most lethal opponents she had likely ever
come up against.

In the center of the encampment, the bakali had built up the cooking fire to
an almost painful height - the flames licked toward the glimmer of sky that was
visible overhead. With her eyes so accustomed to the dark, looking toward the
brightness of the blaze created spots in her vision, blurring her ability to
look forward directly. Without a bow of her own, Theya was at a disadvantage,
but that was not going to stop her. Serve, or die, and she had been forbidden
from dying. That left her one option.

Deciding on a game of bluffing, Theya knew it was time to remove the last
inconsequential piece from the board. Flipping her saxe blade about in her
grip, Theya wound up and launched the weapon across the clearing from her spot
within the underbrush. Without waiting to see if her weapon found its home,
she dove to another spot. Sure enough, another arrow hissed through the air
and buried itself in a tree trunk with a resounding thwock. She also heard the
dismayed and angry cry of the bakali as her blade found its mark. She had been
aiming for his throat, but a quick glance at the crumbled form showed that it
had reached the snake man's chest, the sharp blade sliding deep to end yet
another life.


Licking her lips, Theya's vision swam before her eyes, her already dulled
world threatening to turn on its side, or be washed away. She breathed slowly
and deeply, urging her blood to calm, and her heart to slow. Time was rapidly
becoming her nemesis more than the elf, but she doubted he'd had a better
mentor than she did. Putting everything into one final assumption, Theya rose
and threw back her hood, holding her hands aloft in a position of surrender
as she strode out of the jungle and into the clearing. Sure enough, the smug
face of the wilder appeared moments later as he strode into the clearing. His
eyes made a quick dart to Theya's leg, soaked in blood and the smile of a
wicked predator toying with its prey spread his lips in a sickening grin. If
she had been a lesser trained person, she might have felt a true trickle of

"You've done more damage than the one that came before you, I'll give you
that, human. And a female on top of that. I think. You look rather masculine
for one of your kind. Maybe once that toxin makes its way through your blood,
I'll rip those ugly clothes off of you and find out which you are," the elf
sneered. A disgusting glitter in his eyes. Ah yes, overconfidence. The down-
fall of so many before him.

Writer: Theya

Date Sun Nov 15 23:43:25 2015

To All Shadow Verminasia New_Thalos ( Necrucifer Religion Roleplay Ampersand )

Subject Ranger's Assignment - Annihilation, Part X

Theya swayed, her knees buckling and sending her to the ground. She bent
forward, placing her palms against the earth to keep herself from collapsing
completely. The wilder laughed and moved forward toward Theya. He strung his
bow over his shoulder and then reached down, grabbing Theya by the front of her
fatigues. With surprising strength, the wilder hauled her to her feet and he
gazed into her eyes, hazed over by the effects of the toxin. His sneer was
becoming very irksome, but it vanished as Theya started to laugh. She let her
body rock with it; belly deep, encompassing laughter that eventually drove the
wilder to shake her until she coughed. The blood probably wasn't a good sign.

She had what she wanted, though.

With the last ounces of her strength, Theya twisted in the elf's grasp. She
jerked forward with such surprising force, that the elf had no chance to save
himself, even with finely honed reflexes. He was too close, he was caught too
off guard. Theya's forehead connected at just the right angle, crushing the
fragile bridge that supported that aquiline nose, and driving the bone shards
up and into the elf's brain. He didn't even have time to scream as the pieces
sliced into his brain and rendered him dead before his reeling body collapsed
backward into the ground. Theya landed atop him with a groan, the head of the
arrow grinding deeper into the muscles of her thigh. With a gasp, she rolled
off of the corpse and forced herself to a stand.


By some miracle, the commotion outside had not roused the rest of the cult-
happy lunatics that were working within the excavation site. Theya had been
warned not to go within, so it left her at a crossroad of sorts. Deciding to
obey the instruction she had been given, she stripped the dead elf of his bow
and what arrows remained upon his form. With strength that came from somewhere
she could not comprehend, Theya sat down on one of the low benches and laid
an arrow to rest across the string and guard. Her world rocked and faded in
and out, but there was an itch to her skin, caused by her stirring blood that
would not let her give in to the release of unconsciousness.

A short time later, the miner's emerged in a group, clearly intent on the
meal that should have awaited them, and their rest. Instead, one dropped after
a hissing sound filled the air. As the group turned to see what had happened,
another two went down, one with an arrow in the back, and the other with a
shaft buried in their abdomen. The fourth fled back into the mine, and Theya
let him go. She didn't have the energy, and it was likely the woman would
find a less desirable end within anyway. Whatever resided inside those depths
was not for Theya, but she did have work to do.

Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen?

Feeling as though she had been torn apart and put back together again, Theya
set to dragging the bodies into the fire, stoking the flames with the fuel that
the cooking grease and other highly flammable materials aided with. The half
ogre proved to be too much to drag such a distance, so she left him to rot as
she had left him. While the black smoke filled the air with the awful stench
of burning bodies, the sun rose. Staggering her way into the jungle, Theya
managed to haul herself into the lower limbs of a tree. She lashed herself to
it with some vines, then drew her cloak around her. She drank her fill of
water, and then let the darkness of oblivion take her.

She was so tired.

Writer: Carrionmaw

Date Mon Nov 16 09:27:21 2015

To All Shadow Abaddon ( Necrucifer Religion Roleplay Ampersand Zypher Kyri )

Subject Lacunae (I)

"Even the moon is not bright and the stars are not pure in His sight.
What then is a mortal? An insect. A worm. A maggot. "

High upon the outcropping, as distant and remote as one might be from the
cities of man, the ancient wyrm watched the storm roll in from the sea.
Jagged tendrils of lightning lashed out like spears falling from the
heavens, splitting the sky. Thunder followed behind that celestial fire, as
was its place.

His contempt and loathing for them was unsurpassed. They never changed.
Not in the Age in which he was born, not in the Age in which cataclysm after
cataclysm rent the lands, and not in this Age of Chaos.

Rats. Like so many rats they tore at one another, gnawing out each others
eyes until the sockets were dead and empty. Fighting over scraps and little
else. Piling still-warm bodies of others so a select few potentates might
climb to some modest height which, ultimately, was meaningless.

Irritated, his tail thrashed across the escarpment breaking free stone and
earth from their precarious perch, they plummeted down below. So short
lived and sated with trouble, these mortals. Like a flower, they blossom
and wither and do not endure.

Why then, was this world entrusted to them?

The thought hung suspended in his mind, turning over itself slowly as if it
were a precious stone to be inspected for its worth.

Rage seethed up from within him, boiling his blood and thundering in his
armored chest. With a snarl he rose and the Carrionmaw unleashed his
thunderous roar, shaking the very earth he stood upon. As if such a thing
could crush that familiar thought for good. The sound echoed off the
cliff-face, resounding for miles out over the sea.

But for a moment, the Storm itself answered him.

Writer: Maithion

Date Mon Nov 16 17:35:20 2015

Writer: Phylip

Date Mon Nov 16 17:55:00 2015

Writer: Maithion

Date Mon Nov 16 18:15:15 2015

Writer: Jermichael

Date Mon Nov 16 20:02:11 2015

Writer: Phylip

Date Tue Nov 17 13:11:26 2015

Writer: Tanisia

Date Tue Nov 17 15:03:06 2015

Writer: Euterah

Date Tue Nov 17 15:15:49 2015

To All Darkonin ( Sunny Imm RP )

Subject The Northlands

The Mountain was increasing, goblinkin, ogres, orc stirring, waking
slowly. The Witch Queen stood at the edge of the Palace tower, looking out
and north. The wind gusted, buffeting her slight frame. She leaned back
enjoying the bite of frigid air. The Witch Queen's brackish eyes watched
the Mountain's soldiers below as they performed their duties. The Mountain
was cold. Indeed it drove the weak away and motivated the strong to press


She looked North, thinking over the generous offer. There was much to dwell
on, decisions to be made and soon. She had always enjoyed the company of
her Ogre brothers. She turned, already decided what she would do.
Alighting the ramparts from the tower stairs, the Witch Queen curtsied in
gratitude to the Mountain's soldiers. Some had told her she had not need to
show such genuflect to them. She disagreed. Her only job was to serve
Darkonin and her subjects. She was as much a servant as any torch bearer
within the palace.

She went to the library, settling herself down to begin to write up missive.
There were many with wants from her so far, but she wished to see this done

The Witch Queen smiled to herself as she finished the first of these,
tossing a little sand on the parchment to dry it. She called in Master
Zelchi to deliver. He came in, never far from her beck and call. She felt
the goblin lord had grown in maturity immensely after Kaarn's death, the
king's assassination and All the change within the kingdom.

Yes, it was good.

Writer: Takeri

Date Tue Nov 17 20:54:52 2015

Writer: Zorreau
Date Thu Nov 19 08:33:54 2015

Writer: Kailyri
Date Thu Nov 19 20:28:05 2015

To All of Althainia Clarissia Teimhnean - Taliena Imm Zypher

Subject Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale and the Althainian Provinces

Althainia flourished.

There was no other describing it as people returned from afar, flooding the
streets. Everyone was eager to work hard, everyone was eager to see their
home grow into a force to be reckoned with, and everyone wanted a kingdom
they could be proud of - one that served the goals of the Light without
floundering. It seemed mere days and already the Empire was again vibrant
with life and energy, with laughter and conversation. The forges were hot,
the merchant stalls filling more and more with each day, and new friends and
allies were being made. The future of Althainia was bright, and it was all
thanks to a return of those from its past - Clarissia and Teimhnean were a
blessing that arrived in just the nick of time.

She was no longer a giant slumbering away in some forgotten corner of the
world, but a lion sharpening her claws for the hunt. The gods have mercy
upon her enemies, because they would not.

So, strange is it might have seemed, rather than running errands or delving
into the restructuring of the guilds and the merchant district, Kailyri
chose to place her attention on something a bit different. In a library
within the untamed reaches of Icewall, the still young Lady Snowdragon sat
at a table, her eyes busy scanning records. Upon the table were scattered
books and maps, records, letters and scrolls with diagrams and reports, a
few lanterns offering enough light by which to see everything. To the
right, there was enough space for a fresh parchment and ink and quill, her
hand poised over the trio, though they were forgotten for a time. Instead,
Kailyri's eyes zipped left and right as she read a familiar story.

Before her passing, Corszana Snowdragon had dreamed of a fully united Empire
- where All of her lands were explored, protected, and given a lord or lady
to see to their tending. That task had started well, with good intentions,
and sanctified by the Crown, but so much had happened. Corzana had passed,
and Althainia had gone through a succession of bad and more bad that had
left her tired and unable to tend to even small details. Kailyri herself
had not had the heart to remain and to fight the uphill battle when others
seemed bent on casting boulders down upon her and many others. With those
obstacles out of the way, and with a new era of greatness building, it was
time to reclaim those that were forgotten.

And even though Kailyri knew the story by heart, having lived it, having
nightmares about it even to this day, she could not help but to read the
account of the bard that had documented the tale of her journey into
Draugdale. She would return soon, and others would find cause to strike out
and claim peace for the other provinces, securing them and offering them
what aid they required. For now, though, she let herself be absorbed in the
written retelling, with plans to send the account out to the kingdom for
them to read, as well.

Writer: Kailyri
Date Thu Nov 19 20:34:05 2015

To All of Althainia Clarissia Teimhnean - Taliena Imm Zypher

Subject Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part One

The morning was brisk, even for the lands of Althainia, a low fog
swirling about the patient feet of the horses. Each draft horse stood
mildly, their tack of royal blue and gray shining brightly with fresh oils,
while the Guards and one small woman inspected every last detail. The cart
for carrying supplies, gifts of fine fabrics and jewels, candies, medicines
and even musical instruments, was deceptively plain to dissuade robbers and
bandits. All of the gifts were carried within plain barrels marked "Flour"
and a wide sheet, the outside waxed against rain, was draped over them
before being tied into place.

Further still, over their armor, the Guards had been ordered to wear the
garb of the local country folk, their swords hidden beneath cloaks that the
woman had tailored herself. Each one was warm and would protect them from
the elements, but a tiny bit of magic had been used to make them look worn,
and even appear to have some holes. In the spirit of the endeavor, a few of
the male guards had even opted to let their facial hair grow for a more
scruffy appearance. Despite All appearances, a closer inspection would find
alert, wary eyes and a grim set to jaws. The place they went could prove
treacherous, filled with pitfalls and those unhesitant to kill - some had
said goodbyes to their families with tears in ther voices, promising with
all of their hearts to return.

When it appeared the horses, the cart, and the Guards were ready, the young
woman, dressed in truly plain garb, gathered All of the men together,
including one that did not appear to be a soldier at all. Grasping
Phadynos' hand, and the hand of a female guard next to her, Kailyri drew the
group into a circle, each one bowing their heads. A link was formed at that
moment, not of magic, but something truly otherworldly as their hearts
communed in a moment of silence, each knowing that they would All need to be
careful, and willing to give the greatest sacrifice for one another. Then,
the young Duchess began a soft prayer.

"Gentle, and powerful, Lords and Ladies of the Light, we pray to your holy
Names this day. This morning begins a journey in hopes of uniting the Lands
of Althainia with even more powerful bonds. We go into dangerous and
unknown territories to remind the people that they are not forgotten, nor
abandoned, but the journey could prove dangerous. Thus, we ask that each of
You grant us your blessings: Patience, understanding, wisdom, acceptance,
and strength, should we need it. We ask that You watch over us and Bless
our mission into the provinces, and keep hope in the hearts of our families
as we leave them to keep vigil. You are always and forever with us, Amen."

With that, the Duchess was helped up into the cart and the Lord Sunstone
took his place next to her, his hands lifting the reigns to start the horses
moving at a slow trod. The Guards, an even score in number, divided evenly
into mounted and on-foot, which would be periodically altered through the
journey, giving some the needed chances to rest. As if a portent of things
to come, dark clouds promising rain began to build in the west, a light yet
persistent mist clinging to clothes and skin alike. The young duchess
pulled her cloak more closely about her form and whispered one more prayer
under her breath as the band left the safety of Althainia's walls.

Writer: Kailyri

Date Thu Nov 19 20:49:24 2015

To All of Althainia Clarissia Teimhnean - Taliena Imm Zypher

Subject Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Two

Several hours into the journey, a bit past midday, the captain of the
Guard drew his horse up alongside the cart. While his brown eyes peered
about at the dark, wet environs, he bent down to speak with Kailyri.

"There's no point in stopping Du- er, Miss," he said, quickly correcting
himself from uttering the title that would surely find unsavory ears. "The
mist has made everything wet. The men can eat astride, then switch out to
let the others do the same."

Frowning, the young woman nodded faintly once.

"You are certain there is no place that we can stop even for a little while?
I would like to give the horses a chance to rest, as well. The muddy ground
surely has been unkind to them, making the ground slick."

The Captain quickly shook his head, water droplets flying free of his short
black hair.

"We are only a short distance from entering unknown grounds," he replied,
the earnesty of his voice drawing a sigh from the young woman. "It truly is
against my better judgment."

"Very well," Kailyri conceded, letting the Captain fall back and give the

Phadynos released the reigns with one hand, reaching over to squeeze
Kailyri's wrist with gentle reassurance.

"It will be alright. They volunteered for this, remember?"

"I simply did not not expect to have to force them forward in these kinds of
conditions," she replied sadly, but shared a small smile with the mentalist
anyway. "Apple?" she offered, even as she pulled the fruit from her
burlap satchel.

"Yes, please," Phadynos replied, gladly taking the shiny red fruit and
biting into it with a noise of appreciation.

Some time later, after the men had rotated stations and had a chance to fill
their bellies with fresh bread, cheese and dried meat, the small convoy came
to a stop as the path began a sudden downward slope. The Captain again came
up alongside the cart, pulling a map from his saddle bag and unrolling it.
He examined the parchment for some time, gazing out into the Valley below -
or what could be seen of it - before handing the map over to the Duchess.
Her brilliant, turquoise eyes roamed the parchment, noting landmarks and
finally she nodded, rolling the drawing of the Provinces up tightly to hand
back to the leader of her Guard.

"This is the boundary, yes. I will need several moments to begin the map.
Can you have Lieutenant Wilson unpack the cartography table?"

"Of course, Miss," her Captain responded and there was a bit of shuffling
while the men worked to do as ordered, even erecting the table under the
shelter of a tree that had seen better days.

Hopping lithely down from the cart, Kailyri took a moment to stretch her
aching muscles and force some blood flow back into her hands.

"I do not think we are going to get a break from this drizzle tonight," she
informed Phadynos as he maneuvered the cart into the woods to one side. "I
am going to have the Captain go ahead and let the men start up a camp. We
can have an early evening and be fresh for tomorrow."

"Very well," Phadynos replied, sharing a fond smile despite the
concentration creasing his brow. "I will see to the cart horses."

Writer: Kailyri

Date Thu Nov 19 21:01:39 2015

To All of Althainia Clarissia Teimhnean - Taliena Imm Zypher

Subject Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Three

Later in the evening, the men had managed to find enough somewhat dry
wood to start a fire, the rest of the fuel drying in the flames. The
buttery light flooded the little glen they had found to the side of the
path, and a detailed scouting had recovered no signs of recent inhabitation.
While some of the guards took first watch, others settled around the fire,
amidst tents that had also been enchanted like their cloaks. The smell of
food, a large pot of stew boasting a freshly captured rabbit, filled the
area and a game of cards was quickly returning the spirits of the soldiers.
Kailyri, with the aid of a lantern, sat at her small desk, carefully drawing
up the details of the valley that their position afforded them, along with
the last vestiges of light from the dreary day.

"You really should finish that in the morning, Miss," came a voice from
behind her. Picking up her head from being bent over her task, the young
woman stretched out her neck, then turned to find Lieutenant Wilson. He
smiled sheepishly, blushing as the Duchess graced him with a warm, angelic
smile. He approached and placed a steaming bowl of stew on the table, along
with a chunk of bread and a cup of mead, as they had doubts about the nearby
stream working its way into the valley below.

"Yes, you are right," she conceded and rewarded the generosity of her meal
with a light pat to the young man's arm. This only proved to fluster him a
bit more, though a wide, boyish grin split his handsome features. It was a
pity his nose had been broken and never set right, but even the flat, broad
appearance suited him. "Go on, now, and join the others. I will be along
in a moment."

"Yes, ma'am," came the crisp response and the young woman waited until he
departed before she picked up her bowl and savored a small bite.

"Mm, could use a bit more basil," she murmured to herself.

The next morning brought with it the quiet bustling of well trained soldiers
picking up camp. After the supplies were repacked, double checked, and
triple checked, a head count was taken. The Captain, perhaps overly
paranoid, went up to every soldier, examining their face carefully. Once he
gave them a nod, the guard took up their place either on foot or on
horseback, though two helped to get the cart back onto the road and point
the horses in the right direction.

"Alright, Miss. The way proved clear of debris and less muddy than we
thought thanks to a quick scouting. You have done with your map?" the
Captain asked of her.

"Yes, I quite think so. I will take to the Wind later to see with sharper
eyes than my own," she responded. With that, the Captain gave the order
and the entire troop began down the side of the mountain, entering the
valley below.

As the Cart rocked beneath them, Kailyri took time to take in more details
while she could. The sun was out for the day, but she wondered how often
the weather turned inclement as toward the south there appeared to be the
beginnings of a boggy marsh. Still, while the golden rays fell down upon
thick forests, the previous gloom lifted and the young Duchess was able to
appreciate the finer details of the Valley below. Her hands began to fidgit
as she itched to finish the descent and get a much closer look.

Writer: Kailyri

Date Thu Nov 19 21:06:03 2015

To All of Althainia Clarissia Teimhnean - Taliena Imm Zypher

Subject Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Four

"Well, that last turn likely took a few years off of my life," Lord
Sunstone declared before leaning against the cart and wiping a bleeding hand
across his brow. Covered in mud, much like the young woman, the two, along
with several of the guards, were an unruly mess. Each of them panted
lightly, and looked about, taking stock of one another before the duchess
finally diped her hand into her traveling pack to retrieve a canteen of
clean water and several herbs.

"Captain, I want a report of injuries, even the smallest cut. I am not
going to let an infection claim even one of us," Kailyri ordered firmly.
She did not give Phadynos even a chance to protest as she cleaned his hand,
then mixed up a poultice to place within the opened palm, securing it with a
tight binding of cloth. While she worked, the guards finished taking stock
of the cart's condition, and each other.

On the last part of the path, a clattering had garnered the attention of the
group before a shout from the back had gone up. A small mud slide had broken
free, sweeping up the cart while the foot soldiers and mounted men had
rushed out of the way. The damage had been minor, but the ensuing efforts
to dislodge the heavy vehicle had produced many falls and a few injuries on
sharp debris. The cart horses themselves were lathered and being walked in
circles to help them cool down.

"You are bleeding, Miss," came the words that drew Kailyri from her focus
of mixing poultices and tinctures for the others.

"What?" came her own surprised question before a dull ache in her calf
drew her attention downward. Sure enough, an open cut in her legging
revealed a small gash in her pale flesh, her warm blood already beginning to
dry and form the start of a scab. "Oh, yes. I will tend to that
" she assured the Guard.

Some time after All the injuries had been tended and the group allowed to
rest, Kailyri stood with Phadynos and the Captain, discussing their options.

"None of the injuries are serious. I promise you, Miss, that they will be
fine. We should press on,
" the Captain insisted for a second time. "This
area is too open, and we are at a huge disadvantage. The forests provide a
lot of cover and unfamiliar territory, and that rise we just came down? It
is the perfect spot for archers, or enemies with slings. Heck, they could
just push a few boulders off the edge and be done with us entirely. I am
telling you, we need to get into those woods ourselves, and before
nightfall. If you are really concerned about these men, you will let me do
my job, and I am sorry, but that means sometimes I have to push them hard.
Better dead tired, than simply dead."

A flush across her cheeks, Kailyri nodded and turned toward the ready and
waiting cart.

"Very well, Captain. My apologies, let us continue on, then," she
conceded, but before the Captain could say more, or Kailyri climb into her
seat, everyone froze.

"Hoy, there! Are ye folks alright?" came a cry. Then, twenty-two sets of
eyes turned, landing an a small group of people dressed like nomads.

Writer: Kailyri

Date Thu Nov 19 21:11:42 2015

To All of Althainia Clarissia Teimhnean - Taliena Imm Zypher

Subject Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Five

"Hoy there! I said, are ye folks alright?" came the shout again, with
a little more insistence. At this point, however, the group could make out
that there were four people approaching, and the one shouting was a woman in
the front. She was tall and lean, short hair brushed back behind her ears
and kept from her face by twisting some of the blond locks. Though she did
wear furs, having granted the impression of a nomad, there were farming
tools clasped in the hands of the ones following her. Local villagers, even

"Stand down, Captain, and await for a -sure- sign of agression," Kailyri
ordered under her breath. Knowing her command would be obeyed, she smiled
reassuringly at Phadynos and then stepped forward, woman to woman.

"Yes, yes indeed!" she called back, though less loudly as the small group
came in close enough to determine eye color. Smiling her brightest, the
young duchess did her best to scrub a little more mud from her cheeks.
"There was a mud slide and our cart got stuck, but everyone is alright, now,
and we have the cart free."

"High God bless, that's good news," said the woman, and a murmur of
agreement went through the folks behind her, All larger men. "My name is
Anjya, and this is my husband Gill. The two others are Rohn and Edwin,"
she continued. "My younger boys were out here gathering mushrooms and
berries when they saw what happened. Ran straight back to the village, but
they painted a rather grisly scene."

"Oh my," whispered Kailyri before smiling and offering her hand out to
Anjya. After the two shook, she drew back her hand. "My name is Kailyri
Snowdragon, and I am here on exploration to learn about this area, and its
people. If you, and your family, would allow us, we would greatly
appreciate your hospitality."

Anjya laughed, bringing a surprised expression to Kailyri, but the older
woman kindly had mercy enough to explain.

"Even out here, we know that name. You are from the big city, then, the
Capital at that. I never expected one of our family to deign coming out
this far, or to cover themselves in mud and blood, so whatever you're doing
must be important. I will share my home, and even our Village, if you care
to tell me what this is All about."

At this point, both Phadynos and the Captain had come up behind Kailyri,
listening to the conversation. However, both of them remained politely
quiet, letting the two women in charge talk, just as the other men were

"It would be my honor, Lady Anjya, and my pleasure."

"Though," chimed in the Captain,"if you will not mind my saying so,
ladies, perhaps we could continue the conversation in the village spoken of?

With another hearty laugh and a smile, Anjya nodded, then beckoned the group
with a wave. "Of course. Have your boys follow us this way. Maybe we can
even douse them in the river. You All look in keen need of a bath."

Writer: Kailyri

Date Thu Nov 19 21:12:58 2015

To All of Althainia Clarissia Teimhnean - Taliena Imm Zypher

Subject Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Six

"Oh this is lovely indeed," sighed Anjya, her smile pleasant as she
cupped a steaming glass of milk and honey with a light sprinkle of cinnamon.
"I would never have thought of mixing these, certainly since we do not get a
lot of spices out this way."

"It was one of my favorite, rare treats as a child," Kailyri responded as
she settled into a worn rocker, her own glass of the mwyll in her hands.
"An Elvish drink, yes, but that does not mean we cannot enjoy it ourselves."

"It is a curiously enjoyable concoction," added Phadynos, which drew a
soft, angelic laughter from the young duchess, her hair still damp from a

After having arrived in the Village Anjya had spoken of there had been a
rush of activity. Many of the villagers had approached, most of them
farmers and gatherers, though a few hunters had been noted. Though the
soldiers had been wary at first, there had only been interest and even a bit
of admiration from the unwed young women. This had gone a long way in
picking up spirits and soon there were gifts being given from the cart -
mostly the fabric and spices. Afterward, there had been a fuss as the
horses were seen to and taken to one farmer's barn. In return, he had been
gifted one of the steeds to keep for himself. This had sent an awed gasp
through the entire crowed, quickly followed by more eager men and women
stepping forward. By the end of All the good-natured helping, every Soldier
had a place to sleep, a bath and a meal, his wounds freshly tended to.
Which lead to the current, after-dinner conversation being had between the
two women over glasses of mwyll.

The Captain shifted in his own seat, having refused to be separated from
Kailyri, more or less scowling at his cup rather than drinking. Across from
him, Phadynos, and the young duchess, Anjya reached out her hand to join
fingers with her husband, and the couple shared a loving smile. Their two
young boys were already asleep in the loft overhead, or were supposed to be,
but Kailyri had not missed the hushed whispers or the creak of the boards as
the two peeked down on the adults below. To hide a smile, she took another
drink from her mwyll, then let the cup rest in her lap.

"I am loathe to turn the conversation to business, but I gave you my word to
explain why we are here, and I would very much like to keep it,
" Kailyri
said softly, her regret and eagerness plain within her bright gaze.

"And I am eager to hear your words," Anjya agreed, continuing to nurse her
drink, her husband having drained his in only a few appreciative gulps
before refusing a second cup.

"Very well. Althainia, by the grace of the Emperor, Kahlyn Snowdragon, and
with much toil by the Lady Corszana Snowdragon, has decided that it is time
for Althainia to remind her lands, and her people, that they are not
forgotten. To do this, we have begun to split her territory into Provinces
and have given each tentative names to be secured after each has been
visited. We intend to map the areas, take stock of their people and their
talents and trades, and to determine what natural resources are within them.
Also, if need be, we will help to eliminate any threats and safeguard
against future ones so that those within can live without fear. In the
future, a Lord or Lady will be granted title and holdings. It would require
you to give your fealty to them, but in return their efforts could bring
much to your people: trade with the cities, namely, and protection, help.
You could likely see more people wanting work, or a simple life. Trade
would bring in more spices, fabrics, much needed medicine, and if the road
were to be tended more then scholars and even priests would journey here
more often."

Writer: Kailyri

Date Thu Nov 19 21:16:24 2015

To All of Althainia Clarissia Teimhnean - Taliena Imm Zypher

Subject Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Seven

Deep into the evening, the two women, and the three men, discussed what
the sudden attention could mean for the Valley and the people that lived
there. Kailyri learned much of the people in the Village, which turned
about to have sister settlements through the Valley, which were currently
inhabited. In the spring, the people spread out to tend to various farms
and livestock, but in the late Fall after Harvest and during Winter, which
had already begun to turn to Spring, the people congregated into the one
main village - for safety and companionship during the darker days.

There were massive expanses of nut trees in the valley, which the people had
discovered a variety of uses for. Wild game ran abundantly in the forests,
which were lush with plants both edible and used for dyes or healing. In
the northern reaches of the valley, great falls poured fresh water into the
lands and there had been reports of several caves, which might possess ores,
minerals or gems, though no one in memory had been brave enough to explore
them. To the south, the marshes blocked the way to the sea, coming very
close to the territory of the City of the Dead. It was from this direction
that Kailyri received the most disturbing of the news. A creature,
something foul in stench and evil of nature, was determined to live. About
once a turning of the moon, it would stalk into the village and steal a
woman, or a child. Several of the livestock would be found drained of its
essence and out of fear, the villagers would burn the corpse, rather than
using the precious furs or meat.

By the time the moon had risen high and begun to set, the group had come to
several decisions. The people would submit to whatever Lord or Lady was
granted the Valley. They would also be certain to pool together and select
some huntsman to guide the duchess and half her Guard through the lands,
showing markings of their boundaries and the mentioned resources. In
return, the duchess, the Lord Sunstone, and the Guards, would venture into
the swamp, find, and kill, the creature lurking there. They would either
return the stolen villagers, or claim whatever remains they could for proper
burial rites.

Husband and wife retreated to the loft to sleep with their children, and the
Captain moved to his bedroll near the door, his snores quickly filling the
otherwise quiet space. Kailyri spent some time in thought as she gazed into
the fire, adding a few small logs with care to rebuild the flame. It was
only when she felt a large, warm hand on her shoulder that she looked up to
find Phadynos smiling down on her with kindness, and fondness.

"If you continue to care for others with so much zeal, then someone is going
to need to look out for you,
" he said gently, removing his hand only to
take up the slender digits smaller than his own. "I will keep the Captain
here as long as I can, but you must promise to return, Lyri."

Squeezing Phadynos' hands, Kailyri nodded solemnly. "I give you my word,
Phade," she vowed. Rising, she leaned forward as if to place a chaste kiss
upon the man's cheek, but instead she found his lips with her own. She
imparted her budding feelings with the gentle touch, then drew away, quickly
and silently escaping the cottage. As her steps carried her unseen through
the shadows and past the guards on duty, she drew upon her own magic,
pulling a hide from her satchel to draw around her shoulders.

Within moments, silvery feathers spread wide, shining bright under the light
of the full moon. The owl flapped her silent wings, gaining height on the
cool valley winds before angling south and gliding toward the marshes.

Writer: Kailyri

Date Thu Nov 19 21:18:14 2015

To All of Althainia Clarissia Teimhnean - Taliena Imm Zypher

Subject Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Eight

The stars shone brightly overhead, outdone only by the full force of the
White Moon. Celestial light caressed the feathers of the owl as she danced
among the pathways of the skies. Sharp, golden eyes examined the world
below as elation swept through her swiftly beating heart. For a time, the
human within struggled to remember her goal as she danced along the air
currents with ease and grace. All too soon, however, the marshes were

Down swooped the owl on silent wing, the bony trees seeming to reach out and
try to grasp the large bird in their bony, barren boughs. With the agility
of a predator, the owl dove between an opening, drawing in her wings to
squeeze past, and then unfurling them once more. She avoided the ground as
her wings tirelessly carried her amongst the trees. The energy of the place
was -wrong-, something in the air sending a chill into her very bones. The
animal let out a screech in protest while the human forced the wings and
tail to angle, turning toward the sense of wrongness.

Soon, too soon, their overwhelming sensation forced the owl to land on a low
branch. Feathers fluffed completely, the creature appeared a ball of white
and silver, rather than a majestic creature. Sharp, vicious talons dug
mercilessly into the bark of the tree beneath her while her head swiveled
this way and that, attempting to keep a wary, golden eye on everything at
once. The owl would go no further.

With another spread of wings, the owl took to the air once more, retreating
a short distance before finding a low, rotted stump in the ground to land
upon. Settling carefully, scanning the surroundings with even greater
wariness, the owl became the woman once again. She had chosen her location
with care, however, and as she reverted to her human shape, shock overtaking
her system, her small form sank within the hollow log, hiding her from
prying eyes.

When she had recovered and the human was once again in utter control,
Kailyri bound her silver hair into a tight knot at her nape, covering her
head with a dark cloth. Her traveling clothes were brown and gray, so she
poked her head over the rim of the stump. Though she saw nothing, the sense
of unwelcome and the stench of death filled the air. She swallowed heavily
and climbed out of her hiding place, moving with paranoid care in every step
from shadow to shadow. Her senses heightened with the adrenaline pouring
through her veins, the marsh revealed itself to be unnaturally quiet. As
sweat began to bead on her pale skin, her instincts screaming to run, she
saw it. The briefest flicker of glamour, a hint that magic had been woven
into the air and the land itself.

Kneeling down, Kailyri touched the earth and whispered a chant, jerking her
hand back quickly as the ground screamed in agony. Blood magic. Old, evil,
and powerful. It permeated the ground with such rotten disregard for life
that it hard burned her fingertips. She swallowed thickly, fighting back
her tears. To create, and keep such a barrier, the sacrifice of life was
necessary. She would not be finding an survivors.

While rage and sorrow awoke within her heart, the shamaness pushed closed
and closer toward the sense of wrong. Suddenly, and without warning, she
passed the barrier. Relief flooded her, but as she tried to take a deep
breath, the most horrendous stench of decay she had ever encountered
assailed her nose - the sickly sweet stench of death a heavy undertone.

"Well, well, little morsel. You found your way to me after all."

Writer: Kailyri

Date Thu Nov 19 21:25:38 2015

To All of Althainia Clarissia Teimhnean - Taliena Imm Zypher

Subject Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Nine

"It was very foolish of you to come alone," hissed the voice, as if
right in her ear. However, several feet in front of her, sitting on a
throne made of twisted trees intermingled with bones both black and still
covered in strips of rotting meat, sat a creature from nightmares. The
sallow skin simply accented the sunken quality to the blood red eyes and
long, yellow fingernails were sharpened into claws. Ragged, half-decayed
robes of black, stained brown with dried blood from his victims, covered the
almost skeletal figure and lanky hair fell down about the shoulders. It was
the icy, hateful glare that held Kailyri in place while the vampire rose
like a fluid shadow, taking a step toward her.

While the stench gagged her, Kailyri reflexively licked her lips and almost
immediately regretted the foul taste of the air. A strange magic pulled at
her mind, the world growing briefly dimmer and suddenly the vampire was
steps closer, closing in on her with a wicked smile. His smile promised
agony, and torture, but even worse, it promised darkness and evil - a taint
upon her pure soul.

Without warning, a growl filled the area, the tones human, and yet note. A
rage built within the young duchess, her draconic blood stirring as she
faced an entity of undead, of pure evil. Some holy wrath, unnamed, before
unknown to her, filled up her body until she felt ready to explode. Without
knowing what drove her, her hand dove into her satchel and this time removed
a different fur, black as night and silky to the touch, several claws
clicking together with the movement.

"Defiler of Life! Creature of the damned! Your end has come, and my the
Light have no mercy upon one such as you,
" she spoke, her voice sounding
strange to her own ears. The vampire hissed and made to fling itself
forward, its nails seeming to grow longer and sharper. It was too late,
however. Kailyri finished her chant as she drew the fur about her figure.

Instead of his claws meeting the throat of the small, delicate woman, they
raked into the arm of a giant, angry bear. The bear bellowed its rage,
roaring so loudly that the branches of the trees clacked together lightly.
A powerful backhand twisted the vampire around, several claw marks in the
undead flesh. Blood dripped from the wound the vampire had delivered, but
the animal, and the human within, were driven by something deeper - an
instinctual frenzy to destroy that which was unclean, and unholy.

A battle ensued, the bear and the vampire exchanging blows, each attempting
to get the other into a finishing position. The vampire attempted to get on
the bear's back with an agile leap, his fangs growing longer as he hissed
and his face contorted. But the human made the bear topple backwards,
crushing the vampire under the massive weight. Rolling away, the vampire
was only stunned for a moment, quickly moving as the bear tried to crush its
skull with another powerful blow. When the vampire tried to run, it found
the bear behind it, the muscled limbs and great heart allowing the hulking
to beast to run almost three times faster than most men.

While the bear started to bleed heavily from many claw wounds, several
patches of fur singed away by unholy fire, the vampire took the worst,
losing a hand to a bite from merciless jaws, and limping as a slow movement
broke a knee and twisted the leg unnaturally. The human within the bear
felt their strength beginning to wane and began to force more cunning and
care into their motions, circling to corner the vampire in an alcove.

The vampire started to cackle, maniac, evil glee in its red eyes, one of
them swollen shut by the claw marks over it.

"Fool. FOOL! You are too late! Darkness is in your heart, I see it. Even
if you kill me, I have served my Master well this night!"

Writer: Kailyri

Date Thu Nov 19 21:27:32 2015

To All of Althainia Clarissia Teimhnean - Taliena Imm Zypher

Subject Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Ten

While the vampire cackled, the bear did not hesitate. It reared up onto
hind legs meant to support and transport its great weight, and with another
bellow of righteous rage, it swung its front claws. The vampire's head was
struck clean from its shoulders, but the beast did not stop there. In a
need to eradicate the evil completely, it crushed the skull, then began to
rip the body limb from limb until it could do the same to the black,
unbeating heart. The work completed, the bear staggered backward, shifting
into the form of the young woman.

Covered in lacerations and burn marks, Kailyri ignored her own pain. That
feeling still swelling within her chest, she quickly called upon her energy
and set fire to the vampire's corpse, ensuring that it would never, ever
rise again. As her blood weeped from her injuries and agony set her to
shaking, she returned to where the fight had begun. Tears rolled down her
cheeks as she set fire to the blasphemous throne, then began the careful
task of tearing down the Wards and purging the blood magic. When the last
Ward had been wiped clean with fire and the barrier finally collapsed,
Kailyri sank to the scorched grown and buried her face in her hands, weeping

The sun rose only a short time later, and with it came the tentative notes
of bird song. The sweet notes gave the young duchess some hope - enough
that she dried her tears and drew her body into a weak stand. Her eyes were
swollen from her tears, and her entire body felt ready to break apart with
the slightest touch, but the sense of wrongness was already dissipating.
Forcing herself to do what had to be done, Kailyri entered the cave nearby.
As expected, she found gruesome trinkets, reminders of the life that had
been taken and used for the most foul of deeds. No more tears came as she
collected the clothes and jewelry she could find, though she turned and
wretched when she found a child's stuffed doll, the face splattered with

She placed All the items into her satchel and left the cave, standing just
outside of it. Fresh air from the north blew through the marshes, even this
deep, carrying the stench of death and blood away. Sunlight washed down
upon her face, stinging her eyes and her burned flesh. Despite the signs of
life, and how these simple things uplifted her spirit, the shamaness had no
more strength. She slide down against the rocks and stretched out her legs,
breathing in shallow motions as she stared at the blue sky.

As the world dimmed, threatening to grow dark, Kailyri dreamed the sweetest
thing imaginable. A pair of warm, gentle hands touched her cheeks as a
melodic voice, loving and kind, whispered into her ear, "Well done, my

Then, sleep claimed the young duchess.

Writer: Kailyri

Date Thu Nov 19 21:29:36 2015

To All of Althainia Clarissia Teimhnean - Taliena Imm Zypher

Subject Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Eleven

Much later that same day, the Guards assigned to protect Duchess Kailyri
Snowdragon had finished mobilizing and were preparing to march south toward
the marshes. Phadynos had kept his word and had convinced the Captain to
wait for as long as he could, but as the sun had finished its rise and begun
its descent, a sense of urgency had come over All of them. The farmer that
had been gifted the horse had even volunteered to return the steed so that
more soldiers could make a swift ride south into the dwelling of the Evil
One. The Captain barked one last order and the well trained guards turned
their horses south, only to pause as a cry went up from one of the

"The Duchess! I see the Duchess!"

"Thank the Gods," breathed the Captain as he swung down from the charger in
one smooth movement and and rushed forward. Several people followed, a
mixture of soldiers and concerned villagers, as well as, the Lord Sunstone,
relief apparent in every line of his face.

With the help of a branch taken as a walking stick, Kailyri slowly made her
way into the boundaries of the village. Many withdrew at the sight of her,
covered in muck and debris, blood and angry burn wounds - only some of the
worst ones covered in poorly managed poultices. Her hair was a mess, her
cheeks tear stained, and she limped with the bone-weary aches that infused
her entire figure. Despite All of this, a pair of strong arms swept her up
and cradled her against a chest. She whimpered in protest as her form was
held tightly, several cuts and burns being rubbed. An escort guided her
into Anjya's home, where she was lain to rest on the bed.

The village healer was called in, pushing aside the gawkers and shooing all
the males out of the cottage except the Captain whom took a position glaring
at the front door from the kitchen. Some time later, the healer emerged,
several bloody cloths being deposited in a bin for linens, along with
Kailyri's clothes. She allowed Phadynos to enter, and Gill, then spoke
briefly with them All in a voice that crackled with age.

"She needs ta rest. The wounds will heal. Could scar, depends on her body.
Give her time, and she will be fine."

The Captain and the mentalist both sighed in relief and while one returned
to his post, the other gently touched the healer on the shoulder. His
expression was enough and the old woman nodded, bone beads clacking together
as her hair shifted.

"Aye, lad, but not too long."

The Captain cleared his throat before Phadynos could get far.

"While she rests up, the boys and I are going to finish scouting up north.
I'll leave a couple guards here with you. Take the time to continue getting
as much information from our kind host as you can, aye?"

"Yes, sir, I will."

"Good. We'll leave in the morning. Now, go on," the Captain said, a brief
smile on his face before he left the cottage to go and speak with his mean.

With a smile of his own, the young man entered the sleeping area and took a
seat on a stool left near the bed. He took up Kailyri's hand and kissed the
back of it gently, brushing back a lock of silver hair while the covers rose
and fell with her sleeping breaths.

"You kept your promise."

Writer: Kailyri

Date Thu Nov 19 21:32:01 2015

To All of Althainia Clarissia Teimhnean - Taliena Imm Zypher

Subject Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Twelve

Several days passed in the small village, called Makere, and in that
time, the young woman healed rapidly. The burns flaked away, leaving fresh
pink flesh that promised to turn to normal. The deep cuts turned pink
around the edges while thick scabs formed, new skin slowly growing inward.
According to the healer, only the deepest one across her side would leave
any marks at all, and they promised to be faint, silvery lines.

When not spending her time resting, Kailyri opted to speak with Anjya and
the villagers that had volunteered to go scouting. These were the few men
that not only could hunt, but were decent with charcoal and parchment enough
to draw landmarks and make brief notes. Phadynos kept frequent watch,
sometimes taking over the task of recording the conversation highlights and
important notes when the young woman no longer had the strength to write
with a steady hand.

On the fourth day, the Guards returned. The Captain brought his report to
Kailyri to add to the rest of the notes. He seemed tired, but would not
rest until his men were settled and a watch restored to the village. It was
only later in the evening, just before the sun went down, that the small
group found seats at the kitchen table. Mwyll was passed around along with
walnut bread and a local soup made from vegetables and a plant the villagers
called swan potato.

After All had eaten their fill, they listened intently as she told the story
of her encounter with the undead for the first time. Anjya and even stout,
quiet Gill, both turned pale, their hands finding one another and clasping
tightly. The young boys, almost twins, clung to their mother's skirt, their
eyes wide with wonder and fear at the tale. The Captain sat stony faced as
ever, but his deep frown said more than words ever would.

At the end of her story, Kailyri carefully removed her satchel from the
sleeping area and gave it to Anjya.

"I... Know my story is a tragic one, but I offer these items to be returned
to their familes. May the knowledge that the evil that bound their spirits
to the world is now gone bring them some semblance of peace once they have
finished mourning," she said quietly.

White fingers, surprisingly steady, grasped the satchel and brought it to
rest on the table.

"I had hoped... It does not matter. You risked your own, precious life to
put an end to the disappearances, and you have brought us what little
closure there is to be had. I thank you, and will spread the word through
Makere and her sister outposts that when the Lord or Lady arrives, we will
gladly accept them. They have my fealty, and thus, the fealty of my people,
simple and few that we are."

Nodding, Kailyri squeezed Anjya's shoulder, then Gill's, offering them what
little comfort she was able in the silent, compassionate gesture.

"You have done much for us, and for the Empire. I promise you and your
people will not be governed unjustly, or treated with neglect. On that, you
have my word as a child of Taliena, and as a Snowdragon," Kailyri vowed,
her heart reaching out to the people, aching at their losses.

"If only we had come sooner."

Writer: Kailyri

Date Thu Nov 19 21:34:47 2015

To All of Althainia Clarissia Teimhnean - Taliena Imm Zypher

Subject Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale - Part Thirteen

"I know you have to return, but perhaps some day you can come visit us in
the summer. We have a beautiful festival to celebrate the Constellations,
and it is where most of our young couples fall in love," Anjya said to
Kailyri as the two women embraced tightly.

"I would like that very much," the young duchess responded with a smile.
"Though, I do not need to fall in love."

"Ah, I know, but maybe you could help us supervise them."

The village leader laughed again, and then helped to boost her young friend
up into the cart. Now, the only thing the cart carried were the few tent
supplies and a small supply of food for the return journey. All of the
other gifts had been left behind for the villagers to divide amongst those
that inhabited Makere All year long and those that went to live in the
outposts. With the sun already cresting the horizon and spreading light
through a perfectly clear sky, the return home promised to be a quick one.

All around her, the villagers were saying goodbye to the friends they had
made amongst the soldiers, but one young man - very familiar to the duchess
- stood out.

"Lieutenant Wilson! What are you doing?" she asked in surprise.

"Oh, I've decided to stay behind ma'am. Until that Lord or Lady comes
along, I'm going to protect this place, and start teaching others how to
make swords and use them. Maybe this sweet gal will even have me if I prove
to her I'm not All silliness and dreams,
" he tacked on to the end, a pretty
young thing next to him blushing and smiling. It was clear the two were
already heading toward a blissful life together.

"Then I wish you long life, Lieutenant, filled with much love and many
blessings. May the Gods never forget to smile fondly upon you.

By this time, the remaining soldiers had mounted up, or taken their place in
formation. Phadynos had hopped lightly onto the seat of the cart, as well,
his hands taking the reigns with confidence. Amidst shouts of joyful
well-wishes, and sorrowful goodbyes, the twenty-one person group made its
way out of the village and turned themselves east and north.

Beneath a sky bathed in warm sunlight and as bright a blue as any had ever
seen, the little convoy traveled their way home. Several of the men spoke
amongst themselves in fair cheer, the foot soldiers munching on treats, or
admiring small gifts they had been given. The young woman was glad to see
that All of them had healed up, and that the only one they were missing was
because of happy reasons, not sad ones. Scooting in closer against
Phadynos, Kailyri linked her arm around his and rested her head against the
strong bicep. She contently looked to the sky, smiling as several birds
flew overhead.

"And so we leave the Valley of Draug, hopefully a better place, and with
many new memories and feelings. I hope the journey will remain with us
" she spoke, her words soft. A large hand came to rest over her own
and she looked up to see Phadynos smiling down at her.

"I told you All would be well, and it has turned out to be so. We will see
them again, and in the mean time, memories of our friends will fill our

Smiling in return, Kailyri nodded.

"Yes, you are right."

Writer: Kailyri

Date Thu Nov 19 21:57:23 2015

To All of Althainia Clarissia Teimhnean - Taliena Imm Zypher

Subject Visiting the Past: The Annuls of Draugdale and the Althainian Provinces (End)

With a sigh, Kailyri leaned back in her seat and laid down her quill.
With both hands, she reached to her neck and gingerly rubbed the aches that
had built in her neck as she had worked. Her lips pressed together in
thought as she read over her own work, searching for inaccuracies or errors
in the flowing script. When she found none, she smiles and felt a sensation
of content. By now, the lanterns were nearly burned out, but they had done
their job of providing light through the long hours.

Carefully, she bound the manuscript, her fingers working with assurance as
they worked the tidy pages into the leather binding of a tome. The leather
was a handsome blue, and the embossing was done in silver, and when it was
finished, Kailyri rose. She took time to tidy her work station - neatly
gathering the papers and maps, emptying the lanterns and cleaning any rogue
ink. When she was done, she moved to the winding path that ascended to the
main cavern of the icy lair. On her way, she found an open space on the
shelves that lined the walls and slipped the slender tome into the available
bit of shelf.

Melancholy touched her heart, as it often did when she visited her parents'
home within the mountains of Icewall. Too often, she would see images of
her mother and father, of her brothers and sisters, like ghosts that drifted
about the lair. Memories, for the most part, but potent ones that reminded
her of how full of life the place had once been; of the sounds of laughter
and tears, and conversation; of the smells of baking goodies and slowly
simmering foods. The place had once truly been a home, filled with energy
and the goings on of the family. Now, it was barely more than a tomb and a
reliquary, and it broke Kailyri's heart - not simply for the loss of her
mother and All that had happened because of her, but for the state of things
she knew would make her mother sad.

Kerrisacza had only wanted the best for her family, and that extended to
those not of blood, but of Faith, and purpose.

Shaking her head, Kailyri ascended the last few steps from the underground
library and looked around the main cavern. Life went on, as it always did.
Perhaps in this one small corner of the world, silence would linger for ages
to come, but outside, there was still the delightful disorder of people
living every day. With her shaman's sight, Kailyri saw All the woman that
carried about new souls waiting to breach the realms, and she saw the
children, and the young couples in love. She saw the seasoned partners, and
the older couples, as well.

Kailyri, herself, had a wedding to plan. Finally.

That thought brought her a soft smile, though her heart again ached that her
mother would not be present to witness the event.

With another shake of her head, Kailyri made her way toward the exit of the
lair. There was still work to be done in Althainia. The one thing she felt
she could do to honor her mother's memory was to get the Provincial plans up
and functional - the names of the lands and their prosperity a lasting, and
living, monument to her mother's life.

So that was what she would do.

Her stride filled with determination, Kailyri left the lair and made her way
home to the Sunstone Valley. Phadynos welcomed her, half asleep, by
dragging her firmly into his arms and holding her fast, and All the aches of
her heart faded away. Yes, life went on, and as painful as it could be, it
was also filled with overwhelming joy. She would not allow herself to
forget that, and as she, too, drifted into slumber, she laid a hand over her
stomach tenderly. Beneath the scars the vampire had left, a new life was
blooming - proof that no matter how dark the night, dawn would eventually

Writer: Maxen

Date Thu Nov 19 23:57:26 2015

Writer: Takeri

Date Fri Nov 20 16:16:06 2015

Writer: Elisbet

Date Sat Nov 21 12:56:59 2015

To All Darkonin Xhyr'ryhx Euterah Mruz Ogut ( Sunny Imm RP )

Subject Odurutt Iulzus uh Loltuau

Elisbet trudged through five foot drifts of snow on her way to the
Moonglumm estate, Odurutt Iulzus uh Loltuau. The couple had not been there
long. There was barely a home built, just a room with a fireplace. They
continued to explore the land, wanting to get an acute lay of their property
before building in earnest and starting development. The land was not
without resource. Even under the barren frozenness there was life and there
were minerals to discover within the tunnels the ice goblins made.
Xhyr'ryhx and she had already seen some of the product. Her husband seemed

She burst into the one room home, Xhyr'ryhx was out yet, tending to
business. Closing the door, she shucked off her boots and cloak, hanging it
by fire, placing her boots near the hearth. Their caves in Darkonin were so
much more. The Ogress looked around the sparse room. The had a pile of
furs to sleep on, nothing like the bed they had within the city. She
chuckled, shaking her head.

They were starting from scratch, everything needed to be hauled in on sleds
or by magic, the copse of pine not nearly worth it to cut and utilize. They
had decided to leave it, using instead Xhyr'ryhx's vast connections to
gather the lumber needed to begin the lodge and outbuildings. She turned as
the door opened, moving to help her husband remove snow encrusted cloak and
damp boots.

It was good.

New land, Odurutt Iulzus uh Loltuau, they named it.

Writer: Shalrienne

Date Sat Nov 21 14:33:47 2015

Writer: Phylip

Date Sat Nov 21 15:08:41 2015

Writer: Phylip

Date Sat Nov 21 15:22:04 2015

Writer: Crelius

Date Sat Nov 21 21:52:27 2015

To All Shadow Necrucifer

Subject |The Hunt for History v8|

The silent stillness of the chamber was an invitation of peace as well as
a condemnation of buried memories and worse. Acrid yet sweetly tinged
scents wafted throughout the room. These salves and burned spices of
blessed and cursed herbs were long refined. They danced and lashed at the
senses in an other wise sensory devoid chamber. A Strange melody they
imparted in the tangible darkness that was embellished by polished black
stone. A void among itself. The Sanctum of Storm, a place of visions.

Crelius knelt within the chamber upon the contrasting circle of white sand
that laid within the center of the chamber. His dragonscaled palms entwined
at his waist, he gazed in the ether. Often this was how he spent his time
when not in council or upon the field. Captured in the dark meditation he
sought answers to many things. At times he found them, more often they
alluded him.

A strange sensation came over him. Familiar and loathsome. As he stared
bleakly into the darkness the vision assailed him.

Ite began with the vertigo. That horrible, nauseating feeling from the pit
of one's gut. The hinges of his periphery began to wobble and warp. A
feeling of falling, but different... Unnatural. As if something was aiding
the descent. As if something pre-meditated it.

The fire came next, oh yes the familiar fire. Stretching on like an endless
sea. One might consider it beautiful if it were not for their impurity and
spirit of their own. The heart of malice burned in those fires. It was
then that he truly realized what this vision was about. Why though within
this place, within this Sanctum? He valued this meditative place as one
where he held a measure of control

Then he heard the voice, the sending. "Reliquary .... Found. Caved in."
Crelius' eyes flickered open immediately. For a still moment he considered
it and his countenance formed into a grimace.

"Damnation," was All he uttered as he rose to his feet in a flurry. The
words were from one only, Traice Kylen and he was now in a peril that few,
if any, might comprehend.

"I must find the Cardinal," Crelius stormed form the Sanctum and into the

Writer: Rellinath

Date Sat Nov 21 22:45:11 2015

To All imm (rp)

Subject The Hunter's Calling

The young man fled through the confusing forest, terrifying howls
seemingly ever closer on his heels. He'd thought for sure he'd be able to
make his way through Gathna before nightfall, but he'd made a mistake in
reading the map and took a wrong turn on his way to the gypsy encampment.
Now he was trapped, in the mists and the dark, with terror at his back and
nothing but confusion and hopelessness before him. He wheeled around a
bend, ducked under a tree branch, and then stumbled, his foot caught in a
tree root, twisting his ankle painfully as he fell to the ground. He turned
over and began scrambling backwards, trying to ignore the pain in his ankle,
as three sets of blood-red eyes broke through the mist. Fangs glistened in
the moonlight, and a bloodcurdling howl broke through the night. The eyes
lunged forward, and the man closed his eyes, waiting for death.

It did not come. Instead, a rush of air over his head, the sound of boots
hitting the forest floor nearby, and a shrill canine scream followed by
snarling, gnashing teeth and the sound of steel slicing through flesh
assaulted his senses. He opened his eyes, seeing before him a massive black
panther, its hackles up and tail twitching with irritation. The big cat
danced back and forth, keeping one of the werewolves at bay, keeping itself
between the man and the monster, and his eyes darted over towards the other
figure. Clothed in leathers and wielding two blades of quality make, the
man faced off against the other two beatss, and despite being outnumbered
quickly had them on the defensive. He spun and dodged, kicking a foot out
to break through his enemies defenses and following up with devastating
slashes and lunges with his blades. He took his fair share of cuts and
bites from his opponents, but the fight was decidedly one-sided, and before
long he'd dispatched both of the beasts. As he turned towards the last one
and its attention turned from the panther, the great cat shot forward like
an arrow of darkness, its jaws clamping around the beasts throat. It tried
to howl, but the sound came out as nothing but a strangled gasp, and it
thrashed and rolled with the panther, trying to break the hold, but its
struggles were in vain and before long it too fell silent to the forest

The man in leather turned to the fallen lad. "Yae're in a bad place, mae
friend. Can yae walk? " The young man tested his ankle, wincing at the
effort, but pushed himself to his feet with a nod. "Good. Come wit' mae,
then. Ah'll see yae through t' the gypsy camp." Without another word, he
flung both arms to his sides, sending blood spraying off of the blades,
before nonchalantly wiping them clean on the edges of his cape, brilliant
blue showing thorugh where it wasn't covered in mud, dust, or bloodstains.
He turned, without sheathing the weapons, and led the man through the
forest, easily navigating the path without so much as looking to the sides,
as if he'd walked this path a thousand, thousand times. The man expressed
his gratitude to his rescuer, offering him a reward of coin, but the hunter
refused the gesture.

This was his calling. His blades defended the weak, the lost, the fallen.
He needed no reward.

Writer: Rellinath

Date Sat Nov 21 22:53:52 2015

To All imm (rp)

Subject The Hunter's Lament

This had become his life, for the past few weeks. After the events that
had unfolded in Althainia, he had drawn a parallel between his departure
from the Empire and from the city of Arkane, so long ago. Civilization was
wasted on him, a folly. It was why he hadn't moved to the lands of his
father, the Highlands of the North. He should have never gone to the
cities, never given into the call of creature comforts or the lull of easy
companionship. He had All the companionship he needed in his faithful
friend, who loped alongside him even now through All things good and bad,
and his wife, though she seldom awoke of late. His honor, he thought, he
could regain through valor and selflessness, helping those unlucky or unwise
enough to be caught in the woods of Gathna after dark, and though the other
hunters there had snickered when he first arrived... After all, he'd
brought no silver with him save for a somewhat tarnished clasp holding his
cloak around his neck and a signet ring on his finger proclaiming him to be
of a noble line... That'd changed when they witnessed him in battle. It
wasn't that he couldn't have afforded silver-tipped arrows to slay the
beasts, which was the established method. It wasn't that he lacked skill
with a bow... He was probably one of the most skilled archers in All of
Algoron. No, it was his need to engage in battle, honest, honorable combat
with dangerous foes, that drove him to eschew the silvery bolts, and that
had earned him the respect of the locals.

Two nights later, on another patrol, the hunter came across a small pack of
the beasts, and with the aid of his panther friend, had the situation well
in hand. As he cut down the last of the beatss facing him, he looked over
at the panther and saw her with her foe pinned to the ground in a
death-grip, claws firmly embedded in the thing's hide as it kicked its last.
He sighed, once again flicking blood from his swords before wiping them
clean. He lamented his life, to be certain. He'd said he held no regrets,
but he'd had them almost immediately afterward, for in abandoning his post
he'd proved the Regent right. He'd failed. He should have stood his
ground, but he'd let anger at the insult rule his initial decision, and now
that he'd given it up he would not go back. He refused to turn on his word,
even when he was wrong... Not that he could now anyway with Althainia
having fallen to the usurpers, for they'd not have him back anyway, he was
certain. He'd been a fool All along. All he'd wanted was to fit in, to
hold an honorable, worthwhile position, to have friends, companions. To
have that little cabin on the edge of the woods, where he and his wi-

A sudden blast of pain broke him from his reverie.

Writer: Rellinath

Date Sat Nov 21 23:04:02 2015

To All imm (rp)

Subject The Hunter's Rage

A flash of silvery fur darted past the hunter, and he winced reflexively,
putting a hand to his side. His fingers touched something wet, and when he
lifted them to look, they came away stained with his own blood. He stood
there in shock, staring at the crimson fluid, as his companion bravely
charged forward, putting herself between her friend and this newest threat.
The panther roared a challenge at the werewolf, and the werewolf snarled in

A third sound cut through the night, a growl so full of fury, rage, and
primal hatred that the panther jumped in alarm, wheeling around. She stared
into the face of her friend, twisted into an ugly visage of pure vitriol,
and the inhuman growl broke from his lips again. The panther yowled in
alarm and dove out of the way, just as the hunter charged, his blades coming
to bear. The werewolf braced for the impact, but it was not prepared for
the sheer fury of the onslaught, the man crossing the distance between him
and his foe with speed exceeding anything that should have been possible for
a man. It lifted a paw to swat away an attack and drew back a stump, its
limb taken completely by a single slash of the blades. It dove forward, its
mouth clamping down on the hunter's leg, but the man paid the vicious wound
no heed at all. He raised his swords and battered the back of the beast's
skull with the hilts of his blades, raining blows on it that might have
cracked dragonscale. The werewolf found its consciousness slipping away,
and in a desperate gambit released the hold and lunged again, finding
purchase on the man's side and biting down hard, bone cracking and flesh
tearing even through the leather armor, a wound that should have stopped the
man instantly.

The hunter snarled. The blows continued, unabated, as if the beast hadn't
even touched him. Blades turned, slashed, hacked, cut, bit, rended, tore
into the werewolf's body with devastating speed and power.

The werewolf, a creature born of the night and reknowned throughout the land
for bringing horror and death to those unwitting enough to stumble through
the darkness, whimpered in terror as the hunter eviscerated it in a fit of
sheer, blinding rage.

The hunter awoke in the morning, the rays of the sun rousing him from his
slumber. He looked around, and couldn't believe how careless he'd been to
fall asleep on patrol. His clothes were covered in blood and there were
tufts of canine fur scattered everywhere. The armor plates protecting his
ribs and leg appeared to have been rended by something, but he bore no
wounds to speak of. Though he felt perfectly alright, he found that he
could not recall the events of the past evening, no matter how hard he
tried. He yawned and looked to his panther friend, who regarded him with an
expression he couldn't quite read, which was unusual for their relationship.
He mildly chastized her for letting him fall asleep in the wild, though the
tone of his voice made it clear he was joking. Then he rose and headed out,
the panther falling in next to him as usual. But the great cat's eyes
turned up towards the hunter, large, liquid pools showing sympathy and pity
for the man.

She'd seen it, in his eyes, when the werewolf attacked, a momentary purple
flare as rage overwhelmed him and took control of his senses. She knew what
that meant. She'd seen it in others before.

And she knew, more than anything, he wanted nothing to do with that curse.

Writer: Liviya

Date Sat Nov 21 23:14:02 2015

Writer: Euterah

Date Sun Nov 22 19:43:28 2015

To All Darkonin Vitriosablet Mruz Xhyr'ryhx Ogut Moxie ( Sunny Imm RP )

Subject The Northlands: Preparation

The Witch Queen did what she presumed would be needed to prepare her
troops for settlement and camp. Spurred on by her conversation with the
Noosa'a clan, she felt she no longer could sit idle and wait. She needed
those lands and they were by right and gift the Mountain's.

Talking to a crowd of merchants she purchased tents, bedding, bundles of
wood, potions, wands, cloaks, she called out the Captains of her troops and
charged them with passing out the goods. She hired cooks from the common
people, those willing to adventure forth to discover a new world, gave them
coin and tasked them with supplying an army with food for a year. The Witch
visited the weapon smiths, armors, every trades man she thought would be
useful. Her mind was whirling with each possible scenario they could
encounter, trying to organize for it.

The Witch sat near her window in her private parlor looking out over the
gathering troops, the infantry, the archers, those invaluable scouts.
Several flags had been mounted in the courtyard, that proclamation that the
Mountain was rising. Turning from the window her brackish gaze lighted on
the table still dwarfed by the two tall sturdy chair pulled up against it.

The Noosa'a clan support was keen. The shops would open in a short time
after the Mountain claimed the Northlands. The Witch already had plans
drawn up. She had been feverishly working through the night on notes and
missives, praying the gods would give her favor with the hasty resolution.

The Ogre Clans, she waited and turned dark brackish eyes to the sky.

Writer: Anathaelynn

Date Sun Nov 22 20:15:15 2015

Writer: Clarissia

Date Tue Nov 24 00:46:11 2015

Writer: Nebita

Date Tue Nov 24 23:41:10 2015

To All Conclave Musen Ozleust Laiton

Subject Stargazing

As the red moon rose in a slim crescent on the night sky, it painted a
warming hue of color across the
otherwise cold stars and constellations,
letting their starlight dazzle the mortals below with a faint
rainbow of

She knew them all, of course. Zandreya. Kadiya. Mencius. Each collection
of stars in a recognizable
shape. On a clear night like this, with not a
cloud in the sky, she could see them all. And it seemed
like the inky black
void they rested in just went on forever and ever and ever (and then some).

Of course, she wasn't just out here to stargaze, fun though it was. She was
on a practical bit of
research. Astrology was an important study for
Conclave Magi to undertake, and Nebita Ra was no
exception. She needed to
know how the moon and stars affected her magical prowess. And it wasn't
easy lesson to take in. She loved the beauty of the night sky, but making
sense of it in such precise numerical terms was... daunting.

Even so, she kept at it.

Writer: Andreyna

Date Wed Nov 25 16:05:00 2015

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Laendyn Tief Elrendel Ryakirdon Anathaelynn Drondon Imm Rp Religion Zandreya Ampersand Zypher

Subject The Journey to the Harvest

Andreyna Sha'enlas slipped the strap of her cloth pouch over her shoulder
and smiled gently to the wild elf standing next to her. With a single nod,
the typically silent Elrendel stepped forward, leading the Queen from the
gates of Shalonesti and into the vallenwoods surrounding the elven kingdom.
Together they walked deep into the forest, Elrendel her guide, her
protector. The Queen normally did not fear walking about the vallenwoods
alone, but having an experienced guide, a helping hand, and an extra set of
ears and eyes would be of great service to her. Vampires had been roaming
about the Mother's sacred forest as of late, and the Deacon would not let
the annoyance stop her from her duties.

Elrendel quietly led Andreyna through the dense vallenwoods, his feet moving
silently across the fallen leaves, the wild elf clearly at home in his
surroundings. Andreyna followed him closely, careful to keep up, though her
thoughts led her elsewhere. The Deacon had yet another encounter with the
demon known as Ryakirdon, currently taking up residence in an orc's body.
Andreyna would not back down from her decisions, from the Speaker's
decisions, from the Monsignor's decisions. The demon was a spawn of Fatale,
from the depths of hell. He would not be allowed within the gates of
Shalonesti, he would not be welcome within the Church of Zandreya. The
demon had no lifebeat, no breath, he was not a natural life. He was a
disturbance in the delicate balance of the Mother.

The demon claimed that he would continue to protect the vallens, protect the
Deacon. He claimed that another Deacon and her family though different,
that yet another Deacon also thought differently. These Deacons could only
be Anathaelynn Shalonost and Drondon of the fray. Once again, the Queen had
addressed the Vallens asking for any who wished to speak to her about her
political and religious decisions to come forward. Once again, All were
silent. The Queen wanted to speak to her people, to Her faithful. They
were her family. They were Her chosen.

The demon often spoke ill of Monsignor Tief, calling him 'the gnome'.
Telling Andreyna that she should not listen to 'the gnome'. The Monsignor
was the Voice of the Mother, he was the highest ranking priest of Her
church. Of course she would listen to him. The demon claimed that he did
more for the elves than 'the gnome' did. Andreyna came to Tief's defense.
The Monsignor was not in a clanned life, he could not fight for the Vallens,
he also did not go about gathering armor, which is what the demon liked to
do. The vampire liked to gather armor and gift them to the elves, claiming
to aid them more than others. The Monsignor was there for the elves moreso
than the vampire could ever be. He was the leader of the Mother's church,
he was advisor, he was counsel, he was a true friend.

'We are close, my Queen', Elrendel spoke, breaking the Andreyna's thoughts.
The Deacon smiled, happy to have her thoughts interrupted. Now was the time
to work. Andreyna continued to follow Elrendel closely, the woods opened up
to a small farming village tucked deep inside the vallenwoods. The village
was busy, teeming with elves. Andreyna stopped and smiled as she looked
across the village, the farmers' lands All full of crops. Full of the
blessings of the Mother. It was time for the Harvest.



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