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Player Written Story Note Archive

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

Listed By Author Name

The Love of Work
Likable Lies
-{{Whispers on the Wind}-
X In the Presence of Divinity X
Exalted II
Creating Hell
The Necromancer
Modern Day History
The return of honor - A return home
The return of honor - A return home - conclusion
Filling the Graves
Sailing the Underworld Channel
The Past Becomes the Present.
X Another One Bites the Dust X
I accidentally crushed it...
Passage of Time
Rmed in Shokono
Rmed in Shokono Part 2
Takeri's Plight, Taggett's Past
A Child's Curiosity
Mother's Little Nightmare
Undead (1 of 2)
Undead (2 of 2)
Eszka's Returning
Shattered Heart
Jail Time Day 2 part 3
(Storytime) - The Gaggle of Knights
-Calithie Shalonost-
(King of the Hill) ...or not?
New Hope and New Beginnings
Raising Hell: Prelude of the Storm IV
Phred in Faerie
Macabre Math
Phred in Faerie
X Fate and Fatale X
Another Day
Birds of a Scale *P1*
Birds of a Scale *P2*
Without a Paddle (Part 1)
Without a Paddle (Part 2)
Without a Paddle (Part 3)
Fulmination (Part 1)
Fulmination (Part 2)
Piercing the shroud (Part I)
Piercing the shroud (Part II)
Piercing the shroud (Part III)
Piercing the shroud (Part IV)
Piercing the shroud (Part V)
HERE'S TANNY! (Part 1)
HERE'S TANNY! (Part 2)
The Red *P1*
The Red *P2*
Bloody Rats!!!
Phred Outta Faerie
One the edge of your ear...
A special trip home
Red Returns *P1*
Red Returns *P2*
Odyssey: The Boat
Odyssey: The Dock
Odyssey: The City
Odyssey: The Dream
Odyssey: The City II
Odyssey: The Dream II
The Compass and the Dreams
KWARS The Fist in the Shadowed Veil
Spellbound (Part 1): Deafening Silence
Spellbound (Part 2): Calculated Consistency
Spellbound (Part 3): And So It Is Written
Sweet as Honey: Tanaal's Journey (Part 1)
Sweet as Honey: Tanaal's Journey (Part 2)
Sweet as Honey: Tanaal's Journey (Part 3)
The Path of Neutrality
Of Feather, Fur, Scale, and Blood *P1*
Of Feather, Fur, Scale, and Blood *P2*
Patrol of the Vallenwoods
Old Wounds
Not long at all...
Saying Goodbye
The Line
Blood Ties
Pesky dust and Faerie magic
Returning Home - Part 1
Returning Home - Part 2 (End)
A Brother's Right

Writer: Phred
Date Sun Aug 2 21:26:11 2015

Writer: Gabhran
Date Sun Aug 2 21:29:01 2015

To All Nordmaar Imm RP

Subject The Love of Work

It had been a hellacious week, with Gabhran busting his arse cleaning
every square inch of the kingdom, finishing his training and helping out
others do so as well, entertaining important visitors to the city, and
continuing the onslaught of words from his kinsmen.

He was tired from the ceaseless tasks, the faux adoration, the cajoulling
and the mockery. This week was lasting forever. He was then tasked to
clean the fountain within the shrine, and in doing so was meticulously
scrubbing the fountain when Phred asked him to remember his old bardic
lifestyle and to come out with a song about love. Gabhran had no real
experience to draw from. As a lad of nine summers he was sent to Shokono to
learn under the tutelage of the monks at the Bamboo Temple. There he
learned military skills, tactics, discipline, and how to use his mind as
effectively as his body in war and in life. There were not a lot of young
maidens in a monastery. The only woman he had ever seen for the majority of
his adolescence was the Shoknonese woman who trekked to the monastery to
bring goods and supplies to the brothers within.

So when Phred had asked him to sing a song about love, there was little to
draw upon. He knew things he had loved. There were plenty of those, but he
didn't had that young love experience to draw upon. He loved fighting, he
loved his family, he loved weapons and his faith, and he loved...

He stopped his train of thought and sat down on the bench. He knew the song
about true love he would speak. As Phred played her instrument, Gabhran
spoke the words outloud.

"There once was two bunnies, so tiny an' small, who liv'd in tha' forrest
an' 'ad no cares at all"

"They were ne'vr apart, this fine little pair, they stayed in their burrow,
safe in their lair"

"As fall turn'd to wint'r, and then changed to spring, tha' bunnies grew
restless, wish'd they 'ad wings"

"They wait'd an' wait'd fer tha' snow to thaw, an burst out in tha'
sunshine, an' met wit' tooth an claw"

"'A large wolf did greet them when they burs' from tha' ground, 'e snarled
and snapped at "

"But tha' bunnies 'ad grown to enormou's proportions, tha' wolf nay know 'ow
to divide 'is contortions"

"An' tha' large bunnies dazzled 'im, made 'im confused, till tha' wolf
couldn' take it' and laid down an' snoozed"

"Tha' bunnies 'opped off, as always side by side, an' stayed close togeth'r
from mornin' till night"

"So tha' moral o' the story, for All lads an' lasses, is to understan' love
comes in varieties o' fashion"

"For some it bae fame, an' fer other's it bae monies"

"But fer most wolfs o' the world, it bae a 'uge pair o bunnies"

If there was ever a song about love, this would be it. Gabhran smiled,
happy with the twisted words, but understanding that the world needs huge
bunnies. There are a lot of wolves out there.

He couldn't wait till this week was over, if it ever will be.

Writer: Taggett

Date Sun Aug 2 22:10:46 2015

To All Nordmaar Arkane Palquinn Vampires Imm *RP*

Subject Likable Lies

Taggett lauged, it was warm. The sun of Tropica gleamed, it felt good
across her ghost white nose. It was as if the elements played much interest
to her body these days. The Conclave had taught her many important
lessons.. An education, a place that the greatest minds of Algoron had
learned to ride in the river that was magic, and harness it, shape it as
best they could to their command. A few well placed protection spells could
destroy the most power attacks of the deadliest brawlers of the divided

Palquinn was there, as usual her she was, her every dream since awaking.
This Palquinn was a little different perhaps it was in how she carried
herself. A frightening feeling overtook Taggett. Something she hadnt
thought of. What if she had brought her friend back wrong? There was a
deep sigh in the pit of her stomach. It wasnt like she brought her friend
back to life. It was a simple enough spell if meant. It took something
else to will it upon her friend. To keep them alive from the explosive cone
of flames that tore through the forest. What an idea, to steal a book.
Secrets stolen from the Conclave were meant for certain death. She wasnt
ever promised the secrets of invocation. It handnt been one of her better
ideas to borrow that book.

Taggett tossed herself at the sandy ground. Her shield magic pushed deep
into the sand and she heald tight against it. Sometimes if she turned
herself to stone and smashed a shield against the ground she would turn
herself invisible just to feel safe protected and alone. She couldnt care
right now if he liked her. He was busy, she was banned or something. A
sudden annoyance hit the the back of her mind. Perhaps it was the giant
bugs of Tropica. It made her second guess her dream. Who wanted to go to
Tropica when it was humid and for the most part a jungle nightmare. Shed
much sooner go to someplace like Shokono. Palquinn was splashing at the
edge of a silver cast pond. The white moon skidded across the surface thast
rippled a tar black.

She was sick of being sorry, she was sick of it not being okay to not want
to forgive everyone. Why did she have to be sorry for being surprised
vampires had suddenly become the normal thing in every day life. Shed
always remained under the impression The Vampire, killed the host, replacing
it with a demon. This then leads to the question, can not then a Daemon
have the ability to ration, to act in the freedom of not a good of bad,
right or wrong. Taggett scoffed, it still doesnt mean the creature will
not, is not lent to the darkness. It was the serpents way in. Not by
sneaking or fooling, but being considered life, a creature like a snake,
strong, dangerous. Something different in a demon as far as shed ever
experienced and met. She was tired, tired of apologizing for her feelings,
but it never seemed to matter how other people acted toward her.

If he didnt still care about her, she needed to let it go. The stakes would
be high for him, it would be more then enough to scare anyone away. A
strength filled her heart, she was not some little girl even if she looked
like it. It was a frightening reality that you could never shake your past,
not even with hundreds of years between then and now. They could ban her
from the kingdom, but they couldnt change the blood that flowed through her
was very much Highland in origin. The forces of darkness could twist and
spin anything they wanted, but it would never alter the light she walked in.

Palquinn, Taggett looked at the kender. Her friend turned her head slowly,
there was something different in the kenders eyes. A strange, nearly
frightening smile warped Palquinns features. There was something malicious
to it. Inhaling Taggett sat up. It was still night. He still wasnt there.

Writer: Etoile

Date Mon Aug 3 07:55:50 2015

Writer: Kotone

Date Mon Aug 3 09:02:14 2015

To All servants of ( Fatale ) Imm RP Religion

Subject -{{Whispers on the Wind}-

Kotone was enraptured.

Upon her kimono, her socks and geta, upon her face and hands, and upon the
sword she had taken up was fresh, crimson blood. The red, ranging from ruby
to burgandy, glittered in the light of the day, more entrancing than any gem
she had ever known in her life. She had seen jewels, precious stones and
metals, marbles and granites and crystals with prismatic flecks, but nothing
compared to the sight she now admired. The blood was warm, but cooling,
slowly dripping from her flesh, soaking hungrily into her kimono and
changing the color of the midnight blue lotus upon it.

As she looked up from her hands and sword to the bodies that were about her,
a smile tugged at her lips. They were neatly arranged, of course. She had
seen to folding their hands over their chests, closing their eyes, and
placing the toll of silver upon their closed lids. Even so, some of them
bore their death grimaces, their flesh pale where it was not stained with
the Red Essence. The fights had been one sided, but none of her opponents
had chosen to flee. They had proven their honor, and the respect such feats
of bravery and dignity earned them.

A slight tremor ran through Kotone as she kneeled down upon the grass and
began to clean off her borrowed blade. She would have preferred the blood
remain on the weapon, but it was not hers to keep, so she would clean it,
oil it, and see to the nicks within the blade until she was done using it.
As her hands performed the task, rhythmic and sure - drawing upon the
memories of her childhood, she allowed her mind to wander where it would,
though a small part of her remained alert for dangers.

Whispers on the wind.

That was how it had begun. All of it. Whispers on the wind had spoken of
greater purpose so many years ago. She had left her homeland of Dojia, left
her role as a high ranking court official, left her family and All she had
ever known, All for the sake of the Lord. The words of glory, of service
and honor, had inspired her heart. They had caused her blood to stir in
ways she had not felt since childhood and learning of the day she would bear
the Ring of the Abyss.

She had traveled to Abaddon, the lands and kingdom of Fatale, as a young
woman. She had made friends, aided allies in their pursuit of strength, and
even helped rescued a man she had fleeting love for from the grasp of
slavers. She had been one of the first to explore the Black Waters, she had
adopted a son and watched him grow from young boy into manhood, giving him a
proper and well-earned Dojian name to carry with their Family Name. Then,
Sereb had disappeared, walking into the Abyss freely - a reward for his
long, dedicated service. Slowly, one by one, those she had known and cared
for also departed to one task or another. She, herself, spent more and more
time in the Shadows, her form neither real, nor fathomless, as she gave
herself up to the powers of the Ring, waiting.

Whispers on the wind.

They had come from her homeland, the lands of Dojia. Rumors and hushed
gossip, filled with news that the Guilds were in preparation, that they
would again open their doors to those worthy of seeking them. First, she
had wept in joy. No matter the years or the distance, her heart had always
remained with the lands that had given birth to her ancestors, had uplifted
them as samurai and proper servants to Fatale. When she had finished
weeping for All the reasons and emotions that filled her heart, she had
ascended from the Shadows into Abaddon, though it was not where she would

She had discarded all, donated all, stripped herself of every worldly thing
and then had went to her Guild to turn in her resignation. When she had
emerged, her lungs had filled with the air of the swamp, but also new
purpose. Blood would be spilled, enemies either converted or slain. A new
sunset would cloak the land in darkness in Fatale's name.

Whispers on the wind.

Writer: Zola

Date Mon Aug 3 11:15:40 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Darkonin Verminasia Dfedor Fatale

Subject X In the Presence of Divinity X

The air was thinner high up in the mountains. Breathing became
difficult, and movement slowed as Zola gave himself time to adjust to the

elevation and All it entailed. Sunlight beat down upon him, and the winds
whipped at his body, but he ignored both, pressing grimly onwards.

Much as he missed the quiet and darkness of the crypts of Abaddon, or the
Dungeon, this was a necessary pilgrimage he was undertaking. A chance to be
closer to the Gods of Darkness and better understand their divine
The Prophecy. Unity. Darkness Descending. Above All else, the will of his
master, the Lord of Murder.

The divine truth he worked so tirelessly to spread.

Finally, he reached the summit just as the sun set on the horizon, bathing
the rocks in a reddish glow before the night descended. The three moons
were overhead, a rare occasion when All three
were bright and full. Truly,
this was a time when the Gods presence on Algoron was strongest, short of
when they walked amongst us in their Avatars.

Taking a moment to ensure he was thoroughly alone, Zola drew back his hood
and removed his mask, allowing the divine watchful eyes to see him as he
truly was beneath it. Then, he drifted to his knees
amongst the cold rocks,
meditating, opening his mind and will to that of the Gods of Darkness.

What happened next was All but impossible to describe. It was as though his
soul was torn from his body by a scythe and hurled into a dark void, hot and
dry, filled with howling winds. Zola found himself in conflict with dozens
of other souls, anxious to claim the prizes offered by the Gods. He failed
more often than not, his agonized cries lost on the howling winds, but in
his failure found new strength, reward in and of itself.

He saw indescribable things. The very shape of things to come. Dragons,
demons, angels, and some horrible blue creatures far worse than any of
He saw warriors rise and fall, shadows spring to life, magics none had ever
dreamt of. The death of Gods themselves. The past, the future, and so much
more. It was glorious.

For an instant, Zola saw everything. Understood everything. It was so
beautiful it stole his breath away, how everything was linked like the
strands of a great spider
web. Then just as swifly his mind and soul
returned to his mortal shell.

Rising swiftly to his feet, he nearly stumbled, finding his legs half-asleep
from remaining so long in the same position. He could well have been there
for hours. Perhaps even
days. Ignoring the tingling numbness, he stumbled
his way down the mountainside, heedless of the lack of light. He had much
to do.

Writer: Lira

Date Mon Aug 3 13:38:52 2015

Writer: Erebaal

Date Mon Aug 3 14:13:14 2015

To Chaos All ( Malachive Scorn KWARS )

Subject Exalted

The stirring was more of a feeling than a true sensation, a coloration of
the tainted atmosphere of the Warp. Deep, down within the earth, within the
heart of the catacombs threading the continent of Tropica, something had
happened. The Everchosen had always taken his quarters down there, as long
as anyone had remembered. Even when he had borne a different name, when he
had been simply Erebaal, the Word Bearer, it was a spartan cell within the
earthen tunnels that had kept him. Now he was somebody- something else, a
colossus of a man wearing his title as his name, his life, his motives, and
his identity wrapped into a single word: Everchosen.

The metronomic hammering of plated boots on stone and earth presaged his
arrival. Heavy steps of a warrior's stride alerted those before him of his
passage, and many of the robed caretakers and cultists of the Warp were
herded before his coming. The air itself was charged, was taut with a
momentous weight. Primal energy filled the tunnels, an invisible pressure
that plucked at the most base of senses, the survival instinct that
commanded fear and obedience in the presence of the pack leader. Outward,
the motley lot were pushed, through the tunnels and out to the jungle
clearings that housed the secret tunnel entrances, the back routes into the
labyrinthine underworld of the Warp.

In their dozens, the mob gathered in the clearing, eyes fixed on the
entrance from which they had come. The heavy footfalls continued, carried
on the still air. It felt, almost, as though Tropica itself waited for the
dread arrival. The moments dragged on, heavy with expectation and
respectful awe.

The Everchosen's arrival on the surface of Tropica was no large matter. The
sunlight broke over his armored form as he crossed the threshold of the
tunnel. It was the man himself, however, that shook the hearts of his
followers. About him, like a mantle, radiated a dark glory. A hideous
majesty, invisible to the eye but terrible in its intangible intensity,
followed in his wake and enhanced his every strength, giving a weighty
confidence to his movements. Whatever had happened in the depths of the
Warp had been focused on him, and its influence was spreading.

One cultist stepped forward meekly, his gaze struggling to rise to meet the
Abhorrant's visage of the Everchosen's helm. After a stammering moment, he
ceded and settled for staring at the gruesome iconography of his elaborate
breastplate, 'E-everchosen, my lord. We live and die at your command, for
the Lord of Chaos! You, who have been exalted so, what is your will?

The Everchosen stared at his follower mutely, one clawed gauntlet flexing
idly before he turned and marched toward the jungle, toward the heart of the
continent with only a single word, 'Follow. '

The mob obeyed, treading in the wake of the Everchosen, bathing in the
radiance of his fell purpose and his dreadful empowerment. It was at once
repugnant and intoxicating, and it drew the followers of Chaos ever onward,
through the miles of jungle and up the steep paths until the march ended
just as abruptly as it began, atop a cliff that oversaw the long tracts of
jungle that consumed the heart of Tropica, the sprawling pirate port to the
south, the rolling plains to the northwest, and the blighted clearings that
were spreading like a canker through the continent's heart.

The Everchosen raised a clawed gauntlet and took in the expanse before his
followers, before his disciples. His back remained to them all, but his
voice carried, deep and laden with purpose, 'Long, now, have we known this
as our home, from which we strike at the world, but it is not ours. Many
are the enemies who still resist us. The foes who cannot abide our
presence, though they are powerless to expel us in kind. It is time to
change this.

Writer: Erebaal

Date Mon Aug 3 14:19:48 2015

To All Chaos ( Scorn Malachive KWARS )

Subject Exalted II

The Everchosen clenched his clawed hand into a fist, the grinding of mail
drawing All eyes to the enchained limb, 'Go forth, my brothers, and bring me
the best soldiers that can be bought and turned. No longer are we a fringe
cult, a perennial threat to Algoron. No longer shall the fear of an entire
world be an intermittent reward for our labors. Algoron shall quake when we
stake our true claim to this land. No longer are we a nuisance to be
disregarded, no longer the periodic terror. We shall be an army, and where
we march, ruin shall follow in our wake.

The Everchosen turned now, pointing to his disciples and barking with
irrefutable authority, 'Go now, and return to me with All the men who will
follow. Tropica shall fall to us, and from thence, the world shall know the
terror of our coming.

The cultist lot dispersed with the powerful dismissal of the Everchosen and,
alone once more, he turned back toward the cliff to gaze down at the world
which he blighted. He folded his arms across his chest with a squeal of
abused mail and indulged himself the rare, ugly pleasure of a smile, the
anticipatory grimace of the slaughter to come.

Writer: Dewey

Date Mon Aug 3 16:49:03 2015

Writer: Reagan

Date Mon Aug 3 17:13:41 2015

Writer: Taggett
Date Mon Aug 3 17:46:40 2015

Writer: Taggett
Date Mon Aug 3 17:49:29 2015

Writer: Phred
Date Mon Aug 3 20:42:31 2015

Writer: Phred
Date Mon Aug 3 20:42:42 2015

Writer: Gabhran
Date Mon Aug 3 21:42:55 2015

To All Nordmaar Cliath Imm (RP)

Subject Creating Hell

Gabhran felt as if he was in the doldrums, each day running into the next
without and forward progress. Floating from task to task without break,
fulfilling each ridiculous request without hesitation, and bearing it all
with grace. Grace sucks, he discovered.

He may have had a positive upbringing, a good family, and a decent
education, but he was not handed everything on a silver platter. He worked
hard to make Sergeant, and he tirelessly slaved for the Priest to earn coin
for food, drink and armor. He never asked for handouts, and never expected
anything from anyone. To have his birth and bloodline constantly mocked and
pandered to was difficult for him. What people didn't see about the royal
line is the pressures and expectations that comes with it. There were
people constantly testing the mental fortitude of the family, creating
drama, undermining authority, and misrepresenting the people of his
heritage. They were not like the giantess Yu'sara, sitting back and having
oiled servants feeding them grapes as they lay awake. And he's never seen a
MacCallum smile seductively at anyone.

Anything in life can give you lessons learned if you think hard enough.
Gabhran learned some lessons, reinforced others he already knew, and forgot
plenty of things during the mundane maneuverers. What he did discover was
an aspect of being a true follower of Cliath that he never realized until
now. You create your own world.

Gabhran had been accused of many things. He was accused of being an
emotionless being, of being a racist against Yinnae, and close-minded.
Those who have accused do not know the expectations of the royal family, the
long and bloody history the Highlanders and Vikings have with the yinn.
Those who see the views as old and antiquated have not seen the body of a
friend headless on the side of the mountain, nor felt the pain of loss as
their kinsmen were pit against their own people.

In All the accusations, Gabhran compartmentalized it with a silent
understanding and a needed amount of tact within his brain. Though rage at
such bubbled inside at times, he chose grace to try and weather the storm
without ripping others apart, condemning them for their opinions, or
branding their lips together with a hot iron. He wanted to. Gods how he
wanted to.

Gabhran learned quickly that one can create a variety of things. Not only
can you create your own opinions on another, but you can create how you are
going to react to that. In fact, creation was a moment by moment decision.
Creating new opportunities, destroying old ones. Even in the situation he
was in now, he created his own reality to cope with the pressure. He knew
what was at stake, and knew that he started to realize that creation wasn't
just about the physical.

Cliath save him, he needed to create a way to keep going and find some

Writer: Yurgeon
Date Tue Aug 4 16:45:30 2015

Writer: Taggett
Date Tue Aug 4 19:52:35 2015

To All Palquinn Arkane Imm *RP*

Subject The Necromancer

Taggett winced, it started like something had bitten her a couple of days
ago. The inside of her right arm burned with a fire that she hadnt felt in
a very long time. Pain was relative as death for someone like her. Shes
learned a long time ago to block the part of her brain that recoiled in pain
when something big and bad decided to hit her. It was something you had to
learn if you were going to heal others through empathy. This was different.

Brittle dead leaves rustled their deathsong in the gnarled tree branches of
the graveyard. It was hard for her to be here long. So many thoughts,
stray voices, even visions. The dead never rested when she was around.
Maybe it was they didnt fear her, she had no desire to grab onto the spirit
and control it for her own desires. Even if All of that was in her
abilities. Just because she rarely cast the spells of Necromancy, did not
mean she wasnt very well schooled in them. Sometimes, sometimes when she
was in a mood like this, she wondered why she didnt just let loose one time.

Her gloved fingers were not cutting it, and she pulled the tightly woven
white glove from her hand with her teeth. The white moon was high in the
sky and lending enough light to watch the grave in front of her. Tonight
seemed like it would be the night. Her nails made the spot feeling better
under the draping sleeves of her kimono. A green light filled the night
air, the eerie gaspeite green of her eyes glowed distracted by the deep
browns of the fresh layed earth.

She could feel him, before she could see the stirring of the ground. He was
squirming like worm. He hadnt been dead All that long, his body seemed to
be stretching if she didnt know better. These types of creatures didnt have
sensations like stretching muscles. There was no relaxing the darkness that
came back with most of the undead. A mangled still bloodied hand tore
itself up out of the ground. The Lifemage simply shaking her head, as she
knelt closer to inspect the birth of the zombie. Shed heard a Necromancer
in the area was creating this monsters. Bringing up the dead, a simple
enough spell if you had the right mind for it. Shed be lying to herself if
she didnt admit shed cast the spell a few times herself. The reason behind
it had never been so nefarious as raising and army of the damned to murder
and pillage in your name.

The rotted fur, and eyeless snarling snout of the dead yinn broke through
the ground, and Taggett worked quickly. Her white moon dagger flashed in
the moonlight as it pressed deep into the throat of the creature. The Life
Mages lips chanting, she would release the spirit, make sure it was broken
free of the body, this poor creature would find rest. Bravo, a dark haired
man grinned from behind the withered bark of a nearby tree. Was hoping the
adorable Lifemage would grace me again tonight
The figure was wrapped in
shadows. It had to be the Necromancer There is something you should know,
we so connected to death. Im surprised you havent felt it yet yourself?

Taggett tossed the head of the dead zombie yinn as far from the still
twitching body as possible. What do you want?

Someone you love is going to die. The mans words remained even if he had
vanished completely. Taggett winced, her arm really hurt, the words of the
Necromancer still racing through her mind. Lifting the sleeve of her robe,
she couldnt help but give a little yelp. The skin was red, in a circled
patch on the inside of her arm. It looked heavily infected. The worse of
the color a bruised black in a bullseye. Something was coming through the
skin just barely. Cautiously, the Lifemage pinched the tip of the object.
Narrowing her eyes, she pulled, her skin gave little resistance as she
pulled out a tiny piece of wood. Not again she sighed.

Writer: Chilok

Date Tue Aug 4 20:04:13 2015

Writer: Taggett

Date Thu Aug 6 02:05:00 2015

To All Lothaw Palquinn Kantilles Arkane Nordmaar Imm *RP*

Subject Modern Day History

A single drop of crimson blood fell from the bloodied blade that rested
at the edge of the giant rock. Night had become Taggetts home once again.
Maybe it was her dealings with the royal family of Nordmaar, perhaps it was
waking hundreds of years in the future. She found herself more often then
not, alone. Nearly everyone you once knew and loved long since dead. It
was tempting, that thought. The notion that if she really wanted she could
reach out to those souls, specially when she was lonely. She just couldnt
bring herself to disturb those who had found peace, found rest.

The corpse was butched out in front of her, it had obviously been an
accident, whatever had killed the teenage boy had been swift, and nearly
completely taken his skull off. A large tree limb was close, and looked as
if it had snapped from one of the higher limbs and as fate would have it
slammed itself into his skull. Shed felt the whisper of death from a great
distance. The kids passing had sent a ripple and she was able to search out
the empty shell his spirit had once walked around inside. She was trying to
learn as much about what could have been done to keep him from dying by
retracing the accident. How the body had failed, what could have been done
to prevent the death if someone had been around.

You never get bored? A voice caught her attention, and she paused splicing
through brain tissue. Being so good, when you have so much power over the
She didnt need to turn to know it was the Necromancer shed been
running into lately, cleaning up his messes.

Dont. She could feel his magic tightening around the body, he was trying to
bring something back from the mess. Just let me to my studies

You do, dont you. Even if its a passing though, even if its just a silent
secret. Youd love to know what it feels like to really use your power.

Kantilles, he is the source of my power.

How dreadfully dull His words went sour and the body in her arms lurched to
life, its face skin sliding off and falling in a puddle in front of her. A
skull gnawed its body teeth at her. Lifting a wand from her bag, a bright
blue light flashed through the darkness, and the corpse fell back to rest.
Hows your arm? The Necromancers voice lingered even as he vanished into
the shadows

Taggett narrowed her glowing green eyes. Lothaw was right, she didnt always
seem to be landing in dramatic situations. She just couldnt let anyone else
end up being drug into this one. After All she couldnt let Lothaw, always
be right. Covering the wound on her arm with her kimono sleeve, she ignored
the new piece of gnarled wood breaking through the surface of her skin. She
hoped she could salvage even a little of the brain tissue.

Someone You Love is Going to Die.

Writer: Trylum

Date Thu Aug 6 18:08:01 2015

To Arkane ( Imm RP Zandreya Raije All )

Subject The return of honor - A return home

Trylum walks through the jungles of Tropica, his ears up, listening
intently to any sound that might be out of the ordinary. Songs of birds,
the chirping of monkies, and the baying of boar as they crash through the
underbrush are the only sounds. He knows they're out there, hunting him.
Trylum stops, testing the wind for any sign of a scent. He doesn't hold out
much hop.. There, to the east, someone wasn't quite fast enough getting
upwind. Trylum continues on, knowing they will come from the south, staying
well clear of the easterly breeze, but he knows they will come. For now he
is something to be watched, his brother would not put a kill order out on
him just yet, he was no threat.

As Trylum enters the village All work stops. Wemics and leonine alike stop
to watch the stranger enter the circle of huts and drink from the fountain
in it's center. As he puts the gourd back into the trough he sees his
mother and father exit their hut and look straight at him. Immediatly his
mother's face pales and tears form in her eyes, but she is quick to hide her
worry. His father's brow furrows and clances at the Chief's hut as he
quickly pushes his mother back inside. As Trylum straightens, twelve
warriors step from the tree line, blocking his way to the hut. An older
wemic steps forth. Scars ripple his massive body as his muscles tighten and
loosen, his lip peeling back in a snarl of warning. 'What business have you
here cub?

Trylum tries to calm his nerves, he didn't realize fear would be something
he would have to deal with when he set out. Apprehension yes, regrets yes,
but this bone numbing fear that courses through him is not what he
anticipated. Schooling his face he speaks loudly to the entire village. 'I
am Trylum Snowalker. I was snuck out of this pride out of my mothers fear
for my life, but I have returned to challenge the Chief to combat. I know
our laws and I know the outcome. Only one will be Chief, only one will

The villagers All look at eachother in silence, waiting to see what will
happen when a roar pierces the jungle. The sounds of the forest instantly
become earily silent as the flap to the Chief's hut is flung open. His half
brother, older by four ears emerges in hardened leather battle armor. The
spear in his hand is thick as an oak sappling and is tipped with a two
heads. Each blade glinting in the sunlight. 'And so the coward returns to
face me.. Hear me now Pride of Tojori. I accept my brother's pitiful
challenge, let this end today. Clear the way.
The warriors scramble using
the butts of their spears to clear a twenty foot circle. 'Battle inside the
circle, if you leave the circle you challenge the village warriors and they
are clear to kill you. This battle is to the death, may the Ancestors
cradle your broken body and Raije deny your soul for All time.

Trylum walks into the circle and speaks to the village 'By the laws of the
Ancestors may the Great Mother fulfil her will here today. Your days of
reign are numbered brother, by your death or mine, you will fall.
As he
turns to face his brother he whispers to himself Mother may my mate know of
my love for her, and may my cubs grow in the knowledge of their fathers
With a roar of his own Trylum attacks, the battle for Tojori and the
freedom of his pride begins with the howl of pain not from the Chief, but
from Trylum's own lips.

Writer: Trylum

Date Thu Aug 6 18:19:31 2015

To Arkane ( Imm RP Zandreya Raije All )

Subject The return of honor - A return home - conclusion

Darting in and out Trylum's brother quickly shows he is a powerfull
warrior. Trylum tries to fight him off and manages to get in a few blows,
but isn't causing near enough damage, and worse, he is starting to weaken.
Fighting full on for ten miinutes now, combined with blood loss, it's taking
its toll on the young wemic. His brother jumps in using his spear to sweep
Trylum's legs from under him. Jumping to clear the spear, Trylum misjudges
and the spear tangles in his legs, crashing him to the ground. With a
triumphant roar his brother pounces, pinning Trylum to the ground. 'Those
that challenge me die. You thought to come here and take what is mine?!
Now you die cub.
Lifting the spear in his hands he brings it down at
Trylum's chest when something inside him snaps. Taking the spearpont in his
forearm he draws a short dagger and slams it into his brother's thigh with
all his might and twists. Shock suddenly appears on his brother's face as
his leg gushes his life's blood over Trylum's heaving chest. As the light
fades from his eyes, the last thing he hears is Trylum uttering these words.
'May the Mother welcome you Brother, may the Ancestors bring you to their
table, and may you find peace in the next life.

Broken and bleeding Trylum tries to stand and falters. Dropping to his
knees he tries to use his spear to hold himself up as he looks around the
village. Not one face was seen. Not one voice raised in challenge. He had
won, Trojori was free. {.F

Writer: Lilly

Date Thu Aug 6 21:20:39 2015

To Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom All Imm RP

Subject Alone

Lilly entered the gates of Shalonesti and nothing had changed, not that
she expected anything to change. The haunting memories she had hoped to
purge from her mind were more vivid than ever before. She silently walked
up Emerald Lane, not for any specific reason, just preferred the sound of

The memories of being attacked by the dwarves as a teen, her getting away by
chance, her father giving her an opening to run as they continued to fend
off the attack. Her head was spinning as the memories flooded her mind.
The color so vivid as if it were just the day before. She could see herself
climb up the tree, so high that she could not be seen. She watched as two
of the dwarves, one grabbed her mother and the other her father, overpowered
them, and slashed both their throats.

Lilly closed her eyes tightly, taking in a deep breath and releasing it.
She would cry no tears for they were All dried up, but she did seek
vengeance. Her hate for the dwarves stronger than ever. She wished to do
to them what they did to her parents and would not give up until each one
fell to her blade. They had left her on Algoron alone and she would make
sure each and every dwarf would pay.

Writer: Hattie

Date Fri Aug 7 03:53:23 2015

To Zola Jonathen Abaddon All ( Imm Religion RP Fatale )

Subject Filling the Graves

As a rule, Darksongs weren't exactly the -best- Fataleites, per se. It
was sort-of to be expected when All of you were stuck in it because your
weird old viking grandma decided to piss off her Austinianite parents.

But Hattie wasn't exactly a normal Darksong. She was still a virgin at
eighteen, for one thing. And for her part in the whole Fataleite business,
she tried. Killing sometmes made her a little squeamish, and she usually
found fountains of blood spewing from jugular veins to be a little bit
icky, but she managed to find parts of it that she liked.

Equality was a big one. Everybody died. Pawns and kings in the same box,
or so the saying went. And then there was the part even Darksongs liked:
living your life the way you wanted, because anybody who promised you
a tomorrow was a liar.

Either way, she had a job now, and it involved doing some murder. Her
very favorite priest in the whole world had asked her to do it, and she
thought he'd probably be mad if he found out she just went and picked off
little old sick people who were about to meet Big Daddy Death anyway. So
off she went with her staff to the dwarven village close to Althainia.

Her staff had glass from broken liquor bottles wedged into one end of it,
and it was pretty good for clobbering things to death. She picked off the
dwarves one by one, glad they were so small so she could just roll them
home instead of having to lug them over her shoulder or something. She
stuffed them into kegs and rolled them laboriously back through the swamp
to her quiet boring homeland, humming one of her dad's songs to herself
as she nudged the barrels along the road.

Fortunately, the graves inside the temple were already open, which was
good, because Hattie was already sweaty and didn't really want to do any
more hard work. She nudged the dwarves in, barrels and all, taking a solemn
swig of firebreather over each before drizzling a little down onto the kegs.
Thoroughly drunk after that, she shoved dirt into each grave and hopped on
each a few times to pat it down.

Then from her bag, she took five yellow daisies she had picked that morning,
wilted already from the heat, and stuck them upright atop each grave.

Then she looked around Zola's graveyard. Five down. A few hundred to go.

She wiped her forehead with the hem of her frilly red skirt. Time to go get
more beer. It was gonna be a long day.

Writer: Taggett

Date Fri Aug 7 23:29:54 2015

To All Arkane Palquinn Imm *RP*

Subject Truthless

The gaspeite green glow of Taggetts eyes illuminated through the dense
fog of the Spirit World. Faces translucent and haunting floated past the
girl. She kept to the shadows, drifting as she floated through the
nothingness around her. Her shoulder hurt, shed kept it to herself for most
of the day. She didnt want to bother everyone with her problems. Shed felt
if she was going to learn anything from her history it would be that not
everything that happens to her needs to happen to the rest of Algoron. She
rubbed the spot as a strange sensation started to pass over her. It felt as
if she was being watched.

You dont have to stay hidden Taggett turned in each direction. Half
expecting the Necromancer would appear at any moment. The feel grew more
intense, a warmth that started at the base of her fingertips and worked
itself up the girls arms. Whats this then?

A scream tore itself from her insides, a burning figure of hate and rage
bursting from the thick fog, snarling its sharp jagged teeth a breath from
her face. Black skin as dark as tar was leathered and slick with some sort
of wet shine. Eyeless sockets looked deep into her soul, and could see her
even through the magic she walked within. Its body was large, taller then
most men, and it hunched its huge shoulders to come close to her face. Its
naked form a shadow in itself, she could feel its hatred sinking down on
her, and it became had to breath as its rotten fumes plunged itself into her

Without thinking, she plunged the narwhales tusk she most often walked with,
into the demons stomach. It hissed through rows of sharp rotten needle
pointed teeth. The fear swept itself through her body and she let the
energy of the wand tear out hitting the beast with a ray of light that
illuminated the dense fog in a bright yellow light. Turning, Taggett rushed
as quickly as she could forward. Her feet rising from the ground, she
started to leap into flight. Something sharp caught her gut. Large talons
hooked themselves into her gut.

You know you belong here. A hot stinking sour voice sizzled in her ear.
She could feel her own blood spill through the beasts clawed hand. You and
that kender. Death doesnt forget, it will always take what is meant to be
Taggetts eyes blinked the green light flickering across the swirl

We are protected from you..

Are you? Is that why you have started to age again? The voice was filled
with mystery to it, a knowing that both frightened and intrigued her at the
same time.

A smile parted the grimace across Taggetts face. Thats just it, I dont
think I have.
Her eyes flashed with a brightness that illuminated the
tangled pair. A sound like snapping bone and a loud pop punctuated the
sentiment, and it was the demons turn to scream out. From the Lifemages
shoulder a large twisting stick of sharp wood had burst from her skin and
through the chest of the beast. Sorry was that what was left of your heart?

The creatures claws went limp and drug themselves from her gut, she looked
down at the tears in her kimono. The creature limped back into the
darkness. It certainly had been sent to kill her, but it wasnt what it
hoped to disguise itself as. It was not a demon, it was not a messenger of
death. It had in fact been a mistake to send the creature to her. When it
had clawed into her a link had been made. The question now remained. If
she wasnt aging again, if someone she knew wasnt destined for death, who was
playing games with her, and why..?

Writer: Rmed

Date Sat Aug 8 09:21:23 2015

Writer: Chilok

Date Sat Aug 8 12:45:54 2015

Writer: Pitheuis

Date Sat Aug 8 17:05:13 2015

To All Ferg Bloodlust Imm (RP) Kyri

Subject Sailing the Underworld Channel

The elf looked up from the starboard side of the vessel he found himself
upon, beyond the black sail of the boat and into the impossible darkness of
the Underworld's sky. His weapons were stained with the blood his own kin
as was his skin, he wreaked of sweat and death. It would be unthinkable to
present himself in the gardens of the Vallens in such a state. However he
was aboard a ship floating in the Underworld ocean, surrounded by merciless
killers of the Horde known as the Bloodlust clan.

The clansmen were led by the present day Warlord, the yaenni assassin Ferg.
The Warlord and Pitheuis shared a certain bond after the murderous acts they
had committed the previous night. A knowledge of shared blood thirst that
was focused on the weak elves of the Vallenwoods. The field had dried of
both blood and victims so the band of killers found themselves in the
Underworld sailing to find more slaughter. It was becoming apparent to the
Exiled elf the usefulness of these new allies. He thought to himself how
this new alliance would further his ideology to it's end; the death of all
the Royal bloodline Shalonost and their divine right to the throne of
Shalonesti. For such open rhetoric within his previous home, he was casted
out and labeled a traitor and a radical.

The boat came to shore and one by one each minion of the Dungeon jumped over
the side and onto the black sand of the Underworld's west dock. The only
two who were left upon the ship were the Warlord and the Bladesinger, once
opponents and even fighting in the sands of the AGL arena.

Ferg nodded silently and beckoned Pitheuis to disembark, waiting for the elf
to jump first as the trust of former enemies was still building. Pitheuis
had many thoughts stirring in his head during the sailing. More so than
most how he knew his vision of a Shalonesti returned to glory could not be
completed alone, and his new allies of the Dungeon would be very useful to
him in his conquest. The bladesinger in turn aided these Dungeonites murder
faeries in the Underworld, it was a very strange ending to a day of
slaughter in Althainia. One thing was for sure, Pitheuis could not wait to
gut a certain Orc traveling companion who would not cease rubbing oils upon
himself during the sail to the killing fields.

Writer: Lowenir
Date Sun Aug 9 20:01:40 2015

Writer: Liviya
Date Sun Aug 9 20:05:32 2015

Writer: Beldihop
Date Sun Aug 9 23:24:56 2015

Writer: Milleuda
Date Mon Aug 10 08:58:22 2015

Writer: Lilah
Date Mon Aug 10 12:45:30 2015

Writer: Taggett
Date Tue Aug 11 20:23:16 2015

To All Lothaw Takeri Palquinn Arkane Imm *RP*

Subject The Past Becomes the Present.

The door gave a rather pained moan as if having a hard time remembering
the proper way to open. The cabin was scattered with dried dead leaves and
broken rotting furniture, that had been abused with time. If Taggett
Silverwolfe would guess, shed say this had also served as some gang of
misfits base of operation, but the strange symbols and slang painted across
the pine walls of this ancient dwelling. It had surprised her that even
still was standing at all. Minus the huge hole in the east side, the place
was still in relative good shape, for being hundreds of years old.

The room was dim, the light of the forest was reaching the start of dusk and
the leaves of the canopy trapped most of the Algoron sun as it worked down
toward the horizon. Lothaw was surely correct in his judgement of the
Lifemage. She was a moth to flame. She had to know if the past was coming
to haunt her, or some new threat, maybe shed even upset the Necromancer for
the last time. Shed started to burst sticks again from her flesh. The last
time this had happen she was coming of age. Becoming the powerful witch
that had been her birthright.

Here, in this cabin. This was the place her real parents had lived. This
was the place she was born. The dead leaves under her feet crackled with
relief at finally being broken apart. The glow of her eyes reflected off a
huge fogged over mirror that was cracked from the floor base to the ceiling.
It had taken some work to find this place, to locate somewhere she hadnt
been since she was over the age of three. Things had changed that night.
Hed changed that night.

Sliding her gloved hand across the smooth portion of the glass her own face
looked back at her from the resurfaced glass. She thought it so strange to
see herself like this. She didnt look more then sixteen, but she felt her
true age. She felt lifetimes old. She wondered how Palquinn was adjusting
to All of this. Takeri, the half elf, the only other person she knew from
the time before the accident didnt seem to treat her much different. It was
strange to see the half elf again, they hadnt been as close as Palquinn but
there was still a deep friendship, a bond there. It was good that Takeri
had moved to Arkane they could All three rekindle what had been lost over

Something brushed across her bare feet, she wrinkled her nose out of
surprise. A long red snake weaved itself across the floor boards. Do you
live here little one?
Taggett neared the animal as it coiled itself in the
corner, lifting its head slightly as if to look at her. I didnt mean to
frighten you. Im looking for my fathers wand.

Shattering raining fragments of glass exploded next to her face, ripping
into her flesh. The snake cocked its head and out of the corner of her eye,
she was sure it smiled. The massive burst of jagged shards tore into her
kimono, and stung her gut. She could feel each incision, each stab to her

You dont get my wand little girl, youve been very bad. Someone you love is
going to die.
Through the blood Taggett looked up, a horror filled her
chest and knocked the breath from her gut. Standing over her, tall, thin,
long red curls. A gaunt man stared down at her with striking emerald eyes.
Your father is going to punish you.

A gasp parted Taggetts lips as she sat up. Shed fallen asleep reading.
With the nightmare still fresh on her mind, she didnt know she would sleep
ever again.

Writer: Zola

Date Tue Aug 11 21:09:24 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Darkonin Fatale

Subject X Another One Bites the Dust X

Those who opposed the Lord of Murder and His followers continued to fill
the Graveyard of Fallen Enemies.

Healers, Physicians, Pacifists, Knights, Elves, Farmers and Heathens alike
continued to be sought out by the flock of Fatale, murdered in increasingly
brutal (and increasingly
inventive) fashion. Their bodies dragged or
smuggled back to Abaddon and buried on hallowed ground, their spirits cursed
to haunt the new temple forever more.

For Zola, it meant paying a visit to a monastery on Shokono. Ever since his
pilgrimage and divine visions he'd had a sense the small, mystical, hidden
was somehow going to be important in the future of Algoron.
Something big was brewing there. Something important.

And so he found himself visiting the monastery, where the monks had
dedicated themselves to Cliath, God of Creation, maker of things. While not
a truly hated enemy like Taliena and her talk
of peace, or Nadrik and his
prattlings on honor, Fatale and His faithful held a distaste for the
creations of Cliath that served no purpose simply than to be. He created.
They destroyed.

Breaking a vase was no different than murdering a rabbit, after all.

Much as he would have enjoyed nothing more than slaying every last monk in
the monastery and burning it down into little more than a pile of rubble,
Zola had to
admit he was woefully ill-equipped for such an endeavor. With
the Defiler Azjuhb at his side, or the Warlord Ferg, or even the Rage
Ulrog... He may have had far
better odds. As it was, he kept his trip
quiet, keeping to the shadows and the darkness, and chose his victim
carefully. A younger monk, not yet fully initiated, clumsy
and stupid. He
was easy to creep up on in the middle of the wee hours of the night... And
strangle in his own bed.

His corpse would be returned to the Graveyard, as another sacrifice was
offered unto the Lord of Murder. In blood.

Writer: Beldihop

Date Tue Aug 11 22:52:26 2015

To All arkane imm

Subject I accidentally crushed it...

I'm sorry red leaf, I did not know you were so brittle
I never would have placed you squarely in the middle
Of the large jagged rock and that spiked iron club
I didn't think thy'd hurt you, or turn you to a nub

You were my friend but now your just a pile of flakes
I will make it up to you, no matter how long it takes
For now stay neatly in the smaller pouch I found
There are other leaves in it, I'm sure they'd want you around

I'm sure the dwarf who lost it, won't mind you staying there
He used to crush your new friends with very little care
He'd pack them down with clumsiness into a hollow pipe
and set them afire, he wasn't a caring type

writting this poem makes me really crave a smoke
I am sure the dward won't mind, if I make little toke

Ah my friend, safely in the bag,
Oh crap... I'm sorry red leaf, dangit.

Writer: Gabhran
Date Tue Aug 11 23:46:46 2015

To All Nordmaar Imm RP

Subject Passage of Time

Gabhran sits at the end of a long, wooden table, the board covered with
sumptuous treats of various cultures and flavors. Fresh strawberries sat in
a beautiful gilded bowl, large pieces of devil's food cake with chocolate
frosting tempted the most stalwart of dieters, and lines of sushi were just
some of the amazing treats.

Gabhran did not partake in a single morsel. He stared at the entrance way
and into the cobblestone street each time the door cracked open. He
watched, he wondered, and he waited.

Hell week started to stretch into an eternal blur. Each day it was orders
from random kinsmen, embarrassing requests, colorful banners mocking him.
His plight was not unique, and he suffered the indignation only for one
reason. He thought the city needed him.

Yet, at each shadowy stretch of the sundial, he started to wonder if that
was just a delusion of grandeur. He loved his kinsmen, he respected the
culture they upheld and the spirit they maintain. Most were hardworking
souls, willing to watch their brothers and sisters in arms. Others just
followed their own plans and did not contribute to society as a whole. To
each their own, he thought. A person begrudging of work is going to hurt
more than they help.

Gabhran worked tirelessly to make his rank of Sergeant. He tried to lead by
example, set out and do patrols and not let complacency get to him. He
trained hard to get where he was at, and helped others along the way.

There were a few that he had hope for when it came to that same passion,
time, ever the cruel mistress, had cleansed them All from his view. Where
were they now? He knew not. He did not see laziness, but the fire had
gone. If he ever got through this, what was he going to lead?

Highlanders were renowned for their ferocity in battle, their willingness to
stay and fight when the rest of the world retreats. Yet, lately their
drinking and gambling skills were the only thing being sharpened. If he
ever gets to be the one who leads his kinsmen into battle, would anyone even
show up? He knew not. Perhaps the soldiers didn't want leadership or
direction. Perhaps they had forgotten the yinn that are always trying to
steal the solid walls away from them, or perhaps the threat is just so far
away removed it was forgotten. Perhaps they don't need a leader. Perhaps
they just need another round bought for them.

Then it came. The Minister had him perform a sacred ritual in Nordmaar,
something that is passed down to anyone enduring Hellweek. As he finished
this rite, he stopped one again at the feast laying upon the table as he
caught his breath, a heavy sigh escaped his lips as he stood upright.

The sigh was for a number of things. The end of one phase and the beginning
of another for a start. The heaviness of his heart mixed with the running.
The thoughts of his next steps of training and how it may help the people,
or if it would help at all. Or it could be because it was his birthday, and
none of his family were here to celebrate it.

Ultimately, it didn't matter. He keeps pressing on, even if the world falls
down around him.

Now to tell those less fortunate souls of Nordmaar of the feast so it will
not go to waste.

Writer: Ferg

Date Wed Aug 12 11:34:20 2015

Writer: Asrar
Date Wed Aug 12 12:47:53 2015

Writer: Asrar
Date Wed Aug 12 13:13:28 2015

Writer: Rmed
Date Wed Aug 12 18:38:09 2015

To All erebaal imms

Subject Rmed in Shokono

Long, thin and frail, Rmed cut a wraithlike image loping through the
night streets of Shokono. Perpetually stooped over, it's hard to get an
accurate feel for his proportions when he is still. In motion however, as
he reaches out with long arms that hang below his knees, it is clear he is
only nominally bipedal. It is with this simian gait that Rmed makes his way
through the nocturnal streets of the oriental city.

Rmed moved gracelessly but confidently through the side streets of Shokono.
Most comfortable in the shadows, avoided the pale glow cast by the
occasional paper lantern. Rmed reached an especially dark corner, looked
around attentively and then ducked under a low eave into a forgotten
crawlway under a stilted house. In his temporary den, Rmed happily sorted
through his animal skin pouches looking for nothing in particular. A couple
hours later, as the sun slowly rose, Rmed pulled a hastily tanned deer skin
over himself and fell asleep.

Writer: Meladee
Date Wed Aug 12 20:29:05 2015

Writer: Dewey
Date Wed Aug 12 22:57:09 2015

Writer: Dewey
Date Thu Aug 13 00:51:56 2015

Writer: Tairint
Date Thu Aug 13 01:57:01 2015

Writer: Tairint
Date Thu Aug 13 02:19:53 2015

Writer: Rmed
Date Thu Aug 13 16:21:04 2015

To All Erebaal Imms

Subject Rmed in Shokono Part 2

As the sun set over the oriental town, Rmed stirred. The family in the
house above his crawlway had settled in to their night routine and Rmed felt
comforted by the predictability. Rmed dug through his packs and pulled out
a partially consumed, monkey carcass. As he tore at his breakfast he made
his plans for the day.

Rmed enjoyed the Shokono nights. The city itself was very clean and ordered
leaving little competition for the refuse and detritus he enjoyed. He
rarely crossed over into the busier market areas, prefering the residential
neighborhoods on the west side of the city. Dark, thin alleys linked the
broader "Ways" and provided him shrouded paths to any place in the city.

He heard two monkeys starting a commotion next to a particularly nice house
and made his way over silently. As he was watching them fight over some
scrap morsel, a dark clad voice whispered over his shoulder, "Hello, there.
I've been watching you

Writer: Takeri
Date Thu Aug 13 19:49:56 2015

To All Taggett Palquinn Brunster Perion Crokus Meki ( IMM RP )

Subject Takeri's Plight, Taggett's Past

Takeri Fairwoden sat in the Garden of Death, still as a statue. She
didn't breath. She didn't need to. She didn't blink. She stared at
nothing and everything before her. She was lost in her mind, trapped in a
subtle, wicked cage. She felt nothing, nothing but an insatiable hunger.
She couldn't understand the need. She couldn't understand what it was she
needed. She sat still. The Garden hushed around her. It was fitting. She
was no longer exactly living. She tried to reflect on how she came here.
The white bull, she thought and then sank further back into her memory. The
water, faces, people and then the man with the piercing emerald eyes, she
shuddered mentally. Her body remained still as she recoiled at the memory.

He stole her from the world and pulled her into the Spirit Realm. He took
her heart and put it in his pocket and shoved her back into the physical
world. Takeri thought she died. She was sure she had known herself outside
herself, but her goddess was dead and her spirit lingered.

Something between that memory and her next was gone. She couldn't find it
anywhere in her mind. Her body inhaled sharply at her distress and gave a
ragged sigh. Why was she still here? How was she still here? There was a
heart within her chest. It seemed to give her some semblance of living, but
it wasn't her own.

Worse yet, she was consumed by this strange want, which she couldn't
understand. Overwhelmed she crept back into the recesses of her mind and
slept. Her body remained sitting on the bench, eyes open and staring,
seeing nothing and everything before her.

Writer: Benthic
Date Sat Aug 15 14:12:32 2015

Writer: Sairina
Date Sat Aug 15 17:21:55 2015

To All Imm RP

Subject A Child's Curiosity

Sairina looked up at All the new faces of the elves her papa took her to
meet, she greeted each one with a hello and answered any questions they had.
She was intelligent for her age and quite fearless for an eight year old.
She smiled and spoke to everyone and was even polite when the Speaker
arrived to meet her.

Once the introductions were over and things started to settle down, Neurion
mentioned he had books and her ears perked up. She turned to him and asked
what he had and he spoke of a book of treasures. At the sound of treasures,
she forgot anything else existed. He gave her a book on the Almarina and
she smiled widely. She looked up at Neurion with a big smile and looked at
the page he had said had the treasures on it. She read the page with
curiosity and excitement thinking how much of an adventure it could be to
see this ghost ship.

She closed the book with a grin wondering when she would be strong enough to
take this adventure. She wished to see the ship, hunt its treasures, and
possibly see a few ghosts. Her curiosity peaked and her love for adventure

Writer: Liviya
Date Sun Aug 16 00:17:37 2015

To Arkane Verminasia Shadow Traice Carrionmaw Leadero All ( Imm Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Mother's Little Nightmare

'Your Eminence? Your Eminence?' the voice was quiet and far away.

Liviya was being ripped apart from the inside. She felt claws shredding
her organs, their pointed tips garishly distending her abdomen as she
screamed in pain.

'Your Eminence!' The voice was louder now. Insisent.

A talon poked through her skin. A geyser of blood and destroyed intestine
spewed up to spatter the ceiling. Another came through, and another. And
then she was flayed from the inside as a creature came forth: long and
thin, covered in red scales, sharp teeth glistening red and spotted with
chunks of flesh and sinew.

'Your Eminence!' There was that voice again. Why?

The beast looked up into her ice blue eyes, its own glistening crimson. And
as the last threads of her life snapped, she felt... affection?

'Your Eminence!' She was being shaken now. A second later, her eyes
snapped open.

She was in her bed, intact, a recently hired servant girl- Chrissandra was
her name, Liviya thought- hovering at her side. She put her hand to her
forehead and found a wet cloth. Her hands went to her midsection, feeling
for damage, and she gave a resolute sigh when it All came together.

Nightmares. Damerus had banished them. Not permanently, so it seemed.

At least there wasn't much mystery to this one. She reached up to take
Chrissandra's hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

'I'm alright,' she said. 'But I'm going to -murder- Traice Kylen.'

Writer: Leadero

Date Sun Aug 16 07:50:10 2015

Writer: Liviya

Date Sun Aug 16 08:49:53 2015

Writer: Anathaelynn

Date Sun Aug 16 14:40:07 2015

Writer: Taggett
Date Mon Aug 17 14:34:06 2015

To All Taggett Palquinn Brunster Perion Crokus Meki Arkane Nordmaar Kantilles ( IMM RP )

Subject Undead (1 of 2)

The water felt cool against her skin, the rushing of the waterfall. This
was what life was about, spending time with her best friends. Enjoying the
pleasant smells of the enchanted forest. Being at one with the world around
her. This was the oasis that she so desperately needed right now. There
was no royal family of Nordmaar calling her names for a couple dates, there
was no nightmares of dead creatures tearing skin and flesh from bony limbs.
There was only Palquinn cannonballing into the waterfall. That was until
Takeri touched the tip of the unicorns horn.

Taggett shuddered looking around the crystal monastery. Shed trapped
herself there for the last couple of days. She hadnt even told Palquinn
where she was going. She needed to escape. Shed never cast a spell like
that before, not on a friend. Not on someone who was so freshly dead.
Never with the intention actually bringing them back. She knew the monks
had been worried about her. The strange girl that came and went from this
place whenever the world outside got to scary for her. The world right now
didnt make any sense. It couldnt be real. Takeri couldnt actually be dead.

Takeri, Palquinn, Taggett, they had been close for so long, before the
accident. Before Taggetts spell had put Palquinn and her into a deep sleep
for hundreds of years. Before they had vanished from the world for so long.
Takeri, shed gone on living. Half elf, time was slowed for her, not as much
as for her half cousins, but enough that she hadnt gone the way of most
everyone else the girls had known. So it was with excitement, and relief
that Taggett had ran into Takeri again. That she had brought her to Arkane
to join the kender and Lifemage in their new home. To be together once
more. Even if the warning had been hiding in Taggetts dreams. Someone you
love will die.

Taggetts glowing eyes remained transfixed on a wavering candle. The
waterfall had been so pleasant, and then turned so horrible All at once.
Takeri touching the tip of a unicorns horn. Like some spell in a childrens
faerie tale. The half elf had returned to the water. Shes seemed no
different, and then she fell. Under the water. Gone, the panic, time
flashing forward and back. Yelling, water splashing, and then blood. So
much blood, raising to the surface of the pond.

The enchanted forest was close, close to the world of the dead. Could it
have been the idea to come here had been strung into her dreams, or Takeris.
Takeri, her body floating to the surface of the shimmering pond. Her chest
torn open, she was missing her heart. Taggett could see it at once, it
didnt take an extensive knowledge of anatomy to see that. Lifeless, more
then her heart, Taggett could feel the spirit was gone, almost. She could
still feel a trace lingering, as if the body was gone, but Takeri still was
there, somewhere.

Writer: Taggett

Date Mon Aug 17 14:36:45 2015

To All Taggett Palquinn Brunster Perion Crokus Meki Arkane Nordmaar Kantilles ( IMM RP )

Subject Undead (2 of 2)

Someone brought the half elf from the water, her friend, so pale, All the
life gone from her. Taggett acted without thinking, she rushed to her bags.
People were alerted, coming to help, healers, the most powerful of Arkane.
They were keeping the body working, the efforts they provided gave the
Lifemage time. Kept blood moving, kept things working inside the corpse.
The corpse, she couldnt think like that, not about Takeri. Not about her

The first hearts, she pulled from her bags, were dark, shriveled and
belonging to creatures that would not provide enough life. She cursed that
she hadnt been keeping an extensive enough collection. She was a Lifemage,
what good was she if she didnt have the tools to keep life in the dying? It
was the last heart in her garnet gemstone that would have to do.

One of the monks offered her a stone cup of water, he was right she hadnt
been drinking enough the last week. She needed to keep up her energy. She
couldnt let her own health go, because of what had happened. Because of the
magic shed promised herself a long time ago she considered forbidden. Why
had it been that heart? A red aura flamed around the vibrant red organ. It
had belonged to a sea siren. A creature of the murky depths of the sea elf
homeland. A creature that lured sailors to their deaths. Shed plunged her
hand holding the soft tissue into Takeris chest. To the spot the half elfs
missing heart had been torn. Torn by what, by whom? Part of Taggett was
afraid to admit she already knew. The signs had been there already, had
warned her. She hadnt listened, shed let her guard down.

Life, what a strange fine line we walk everyday. The slightest push in one
direction, and that flame that seems so ever lasting could falter and fade,
forever. Taggett couldnt let that happen. She could feel Palquinn watching
her as she stood, looking down as healers continued to work on Takeri. She
knew deep down there was only one way that Takeri would make it through, one
way that she would stand once again.

It was like the air being punched from her chest. She could see it in
Palquinn too, as she held the kenders hand. The spell, the ritual, the dark
magic she had promised to keep locked away All that time ago. It now washed
over Takeri, it reached deep into the spirit world, and grabbed as much of
the half elf back from the otherside, it crushed down on the sirens heart
and forced it to pump, to beat, even for a moment. It didnt need to keep
working, it just needed a charge, a spark.

Taggett Silverwolfe blew out the candle. She needed to try to sleep. Even
if everytime she closed her eyes, she saw Takeris blank stare. The lifeless
life in her friends features. The truth was, no matter what she called
herself, Taggett was a Necromancer. She controlled the forces of death just
as much as life. Takeri was no more alive then the zombies that drug
themselves around the Temple of the Undead. Taggett didnt know where Takeri
was now, she didnt know if she would ever be able to fully bring her friend
back from the otherside. All she knew right now was she had to try. She
had to rest, and come back to the world.

She had to be a Lifemage.

Writer: Eszka

Date Mon Aug 17 17:09:57 2015

To All Arkane ( Imm Sunny RP )

Subject Eszka's Returning

She came back to Arkane filled with hope and light, her journey over the
oceans to Tropica refreshed and strengthened her. Eszka was not such a
great thinker. She tended to overlook much of the intricacies of the world
at large, forming her own opinions with the expressions and outward demeanor
people. Arkane was full of subtleties that were lost to her understanding.
She came back, because she loved the people of Arkane and felt beloved of
them, even though she did not comprehend much of what they said to her.

Eszka dipped her wings, banking and then landing within the Arkane walls.
It felt right to be back. She walked to the Phoenix Hoard, missing her time
with the piano. She was going to have to get used to walking more than
flying. The flight home had been a struggle and taxing. Soon, she would be
too heavy for the normal aerial activities. The child was distending her
belly, causing her balance to be offput, her wings too weak to lift her
mass. She would be grounded soon in preparation for the childs entry into
the world.

She sat at the piano, placing her long slim fingers over the ivory keys, now
so familiar with the instrument. Lovingly, she practiced through the scales
and keys, Major to Minor to Major at last. Her fingers flexed over the
board and she played a song with ease, remembering melody so dear. She
wondered at the tune she played, it seemed to draw from her very soul. A
song that had been with her since birth, a winding, peaceful measure of
happiness, solidarity, Ariel, she suddenly remembered her Marmie and Pere,
singing over her.

Eszka stopped playing for a moment. Thinking about the things she had
learned as a child, as the Daughter of the Priestess of Dawn and Dusk. She
needed to hold on to that, not lose it in the midst of other cultures. Her
son would herald another dawning of Ariel ways, she would teach. She
continued to play and to remember the old ways.

Writer: Tairint

Date Tue Aug 18 01:05:09 2015

Writer: Tairint

Date Tue Aug 18 01:38:15 2015

Writer: Milleuda

Date Tue Aug 18 09:05:43 2015

Writer: Irilka

Date Tue Aug 18 15:08:00 2015

Writer: Panphanis

Date Tue Aug 18 15:31:37 2015

Writer: Fynix
Date Wed Aug 19 03:11:39 2015

Writer: Panphanis
Date Wed Aug 19 15:04:48 2015

Writer: Lira
Date Thu Aug 20 08:38:37 2015

To All Imm RP Religion ( Siccara )

Subject Shattered Heart

Lira started packing the little she owned in her bags getting ready for
her next journey. "How stupid was I to think he would ever see me as
She continued to pack her things. "And not to have the courage
to say anything, such a coward."
She saw with her own eyes what the future
held and it did not include her. "Why say that we had a chance for the
future if he knew we did not. She sighed heavily as she continued to speak
to herself as if she would hear the answers.

"Yet he wanted to be my friend so I can watch them hang All over each other
while my heart was broken into a million pieces."
Now she grew angry as
she tossed things in her bag. When she had run out of things to pack, She
did not know what to do with herself so she sat down on the bed "I guess I
was right, I was never going to be good enough for him no matter what I am
just a human to him."

She knelt down at the side of the bed "Benevolent Mother, I come to you for
help in healing this broken heart of mine. Help me to get through the days
ahead of me as I start a new life, wherever it may be. Lead me on Your path
to healing. I ask this in Your name. Blessed be.

She stood up as her decision was made, she would leave Althainia and the sad
memories it held, and start a new life in the desert of New Thalos.

Writer: Aybel

Date Thu Aug 20 11:45:53 2015

Writer: Aybel

Date Thu Aug 20 12:22:05 2015

Writer: Tairint

Date Thu Aug 20 14:28:51 2015

Writer: Benthic

Date Thu Aug 20 21:53:38 2015

Writer: Rolus
Date Fri Aug 21 12:43:17 2015

Writer: Rolus
Date Fri Aug 21 13:12:38 2015

Writer: Rolus
Date Fri Aug 21 13:36:33 2015

Writer: Rolus
Date Fri Aug 21 13:55:54 2015

Writer: Eszka
Date Fri Aug 21 17:13:23 2015

Writer: Benthic
Date Sat Aug 22 21:07:51 2015

Writer: Benthic
Date Sat Aug 22 21:55:13 2015

Writer: Benthic
Date Sun Aug 23 00:11:00 2015

To All ( Imm Taliena ) RP

Subject Jail Time Day 2 part 3

He begins snapping his fingers to a beat, praying in his head "Taliena
care to dance with me?

He dances around the room to a beat only he can here. Moving fluidly about
the room not missing a beat He spins, once then spins back keeping his
footsteps to the beat Says oh yea "Oh yea" as he continues to dance around
the jail cell by himsel

Writer: Savenath

Date Sun Aug 23 00:50:32 2015

Writer: Rellinath
Date Sun Aug 23 14:07:23 2015

To All althainia mahalia nadrik imm RP

Subject Inevitability

Rellinath wandered the city streets, his vision blurred by the rum he'd
indulged in, not even really sure where he was going. He'd been drinking
with Jadelyn at the Dark Horn, and unlike their normal carefree carousing
both had been in low spirits, their moods dark and brooding from their own
troubles. His mind wandered the paths of his memory as his feet wandered
the streets, and snippets of conversation from the past few days came back
to him as he walked.

"If I were to fall in battle, I would not want you saddled with raising a
child alone. "

A family. He wanted that, certainly. But was that selfish of him,
considering what he knew?

"You are not going to fall in battle. "

Would that be such a bad thing? Perhaps even preferable to what awaited if
he didn't?

"I won't leave you here alone. "

And there it was. He'd never before lied to his wife, but he knew in those
words, he had. Not by choice, but that didn't make the dark reality of it
any lighter. He would, indeed, eventually end up leaving his beloved wife
to face the world alone. He did not have a choice in the matter. It was
inevitable. Only a matter of time, really, whether it be tomorrow or fifty
years from now. And he knew that would destroy her.

"I want you to promise me something. If I fall in battle, or succumb to
illness, do not let Hali follow me before her time. "

Rell was still fairly new to Nadrik's faith, but even he knew that the god
of honor would likely frown upon suicide. He did not want Hali to fall from
grace because of him.

"You have my word. "

Even with that promise, he wasn't sure his father in law could do anything
if he tried.

He didn't know how he'd gotten there, but he looked up and saw the
magnificent statue of Lord Nadrik, standing proudly in the center of his
temple in the Church of Light, before him. He approached the statue, raised
his eyes to it, regarded it quietly for a few moments. Then, in a fit of
blind rage, he curled his fist, drew back his arm, and punched the stone
statue hard in the gut, hardly caring as pain exploded through his hand,
dulled as it was by the alcohol in his blood. He raised his voice as he
raised his eyes, yelling slurred curses into the empty chamber.

"Why woul' yae do this t' us? Whot th' bloodae 'ell 'ave wae done t'
deserve this 'ell? "

He angrily pointed towards the glass case to the side of the temple.

"Tha' says tha' yae will ne'er pu' anaethin' upon us tha' yae'd nae expect
anae o' yer faith t' shoulder. Well yae've sure go' 'igh expectations o'
us, yae know tha'? Wae give e'erythin' wae are t' yae, walk th' path o' yer
faith, an' this bae 'ow yae reward us? By makin' us suffer loike this?
It's nae fair!"

The pain in his hand and his heart overwhelmed him, and the booze overtook
him as he sank to the ground at the feet of the statue in grief. Before he
blacked out, he wondered again if it'd be such a bad thing if the blade of
an enemy or some illness were to take him from this world before his time.

At least then, his beloved would not have to suffer the slow torture of
watching him grow old and wither away into death.

Writer: Clarissia

Date Wed Aug 26 08:59:42 2015

To Althainia Teimhnean All Zypher Imm (RP)

Subject Departure.

Skimming her fingers along the balcony railing, she watched the city
below. And like the cool droplets of rain falling around her, the memories
hit her - one by one, until she was drenched, heart flooded. So many smiles
and tears, so much laughter, so many friendships. She recalled the numerous
Imperial events held here, the hosting of foreign dignitaries, contrived
kidnappings, even witnessing the avatars of the Gods themselves.

From way up here, the Empire almost seemed small, but the memories were vast
in breadth and depth, just as they were All encompassing.

She breathed a sigh, her fingers slipping from the railing. And as she
turned to leave Althainia, she wondered if, and when, she would ever see her
beloved balcony again.

Writer: Boof

Date Wed Aug 26 12:06:26 2015

To All ( Devion Imm Rp )

Subject (Storytime) - The Gaggle of Knights

Boof loved to write stories. He was very good at making things up off
the top of his head, and for a goblin, his vocabulary was quite exemplary.
This of course added to the mystery that was Boof Rog. Because there could
be no doubt. Despite his tricks and his schemes, his great ability to twist
the truth and his silver tongue... Boof, was an idiot.

And so the story began.

The young and devilishly handsome priest of Devion ran in a panic.
Behind him a stampede of hooves could be heard, followed by curses and war
cries. Running as fast as his legs could carry him, already wounded, and
near death he dodged into the home of a filthy little gully dwarf.

He quickly covered the gully's mouth with his good hand, muffling her cries.
Whispering in her ear he said, 'Mez will not hurt youz. Der iz an enemy
afoot. Several thousand Knightz is at youz door and demz wish ter kill us

The poor, and pathetically stupid creature immediately gasped behind the
priest's good hand. Her eyes were wide with fear and he could tell she had
no actual idea what was going on. As such, he played to this, and told her,
'Youz must run... RUN FER YOUZ LIFE!!! '

With that he released and shoved her out the door. The sound of screams and
stomping hooves could be heard as the little gully dashed through the

The Devionite snickered to himself. Checking quietly and carefully, he
peeked out the door to see only darkness and quiet. The sounds of murder
could be heard in the distance.

He quickly ran the the opposite direction, sprinting with everything he had.
He was nimble, and terribly athletic, and felt he could easily out run a
horse. But sadly, he was wrong, as the steed of a crusader is imbued with
great and fearsome magics. He turned only for a moment, glancing behind him
to see what appeared to be an entire war party of Knights, charging towards
him with murder in their eyes. At this he began to pray, and was set upon
by an idea from his wonderful Lord Devion.

Turning, he planted himself firmly before the hundreds of Knights. And he
blasted them with holy flames as they rushed him.

In a panic, they tried to stop. Some were unhorsed, some died instantly.
But a few remained. Cursing the priest's genius and charging him with
weapons drawn.

The priest charged back, blessed by his Lord Devion he he ran with his hook
on high. The Knights thrust their weapons at the poor priest. One
wielding a massive polearm that grazed the priest. He ducked and promptly
slid on the ground. Spitting black poison into the Knight's eye

Finally, he turned, and with one final blast of holy flames he slew them
both. Cackling in glee at the wonderful plan Devion had bestowed upon the
priest. As he laughed, a spear burst from the priest's chest! Turning his
head he saw one last Knight that had been hiding in the shadows.

"Youz tricksy bastard... " the priest hissed in pain, blood gushed from his
wound and spilled All over the ground.

The Knight merely snickered, before kicking the priest from his spear. And
summarily raising a large cross for All to see.

The nearly dead priest sobbed despite himself as he was hoisted by the
horrible Knight and placed upon the crucifix. And there he hung, his chest
open and hanging from the cross of Nadrik.

The Knight laughed in glee, and harassed the poor priest. But, as a final
act of courageous rebellion, Devion blessed the priest once more. With his
final breath, the priest spit the largest and blackest loogey into the eyes
of the Knight, blinding it, and causing it to scream in pai n.

- The End

Boof snickered to himself as he dipped his quill in an ink stopper. Yet
another tail of heroism in the face of great odds.

Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Aug 27 19:51:32 2015

Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Aug 27 21:33:23 2015

Writer: Thodrelan

Date Thu Aug 27 22:06:19 2015

Writer: Kaladon

Date Fri Aug 28 04:10:43 2015

Writer: Kaladon

Date Fri Aug 28 04:25:01 2015

Writer: Kaladon

Date Fri Aug 28 05:37:39 2015

Writer: Euterah
Date Fri Aug 28 17:44:11 2015

Writer: Kaladon
Date Sat Aug 29 01:12:49 2015

Writer: Kaladon
Date Sat Aug 29 01:39:59 2015

Writer: Andreyna
Date Sun Aug 30 13:48:56 2015

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Laendyn Drondon Calithie Zandreya Zypher Imm RP

Subject -Calithie Shalonost-

Andreyna Sha'evlas lay comfortably in her bed, exhausted, though
completely at peace. It was one of the happiest days of her life, fully
comparable to the day of her marriage to her lifemate, Laendyn Shalonost.
Though having just been delivered of the royal couples first child, the
Queen of the elves still managed to look elegant, graceful, a blessing
bestowed upon All of the high elves.

The new mother smiled softly, her face glowing with pride as she watched
Deacon Drondon Sha'evlas caring for the tiny bundle. With the utmost of
care the Regent examined the newborn, swaddling the tiny babe in soft
blankets, whispering softly in Elvish as he blessed the child in the name of
the Mother, Zandreya.

Gently scooping up the precious package in his arms, he approached the new
parents. Andreyna scooted up slowly in the bed, a bright smile upon her
face, Laendyn aiding her with care, having never left his wife's side.
'Congratulations', the Mother's Deacon spoke in Elvish, '.. It is a healthy
and very lively girl.
' He gently passed the baby into Andreyna's arms,
carefully cradling her wobbly head.

The proud parents beamed down at their tiny baby girl, flaxen hair framing
her cherubic face, pointed ears of her high elf heritage peeping through.
Andreyna whispered a soft prayer in her Elvish tongue, 'Dearest Mother, we
thank you for this wonderful gift you have so graciously bestowed upon us.
We shall teach her Your ways, show her Your path, remind her that She is
always safe within Your arms. Please watch over and bless our precious
child. Please continue to bless us as we raise her, as we guide her in the
way of the elves and the way of the Mother. In All that we do, we do for
You, blessed Mother.

Laendyn Shalonost leaned forward, gently kissing Andreyna on the forehead,
then softly pressing his lips to the forehead of his firstborn, the proud
smile never parting from his lips. 'Thank you for All of your aid, Deacon.
', he spoke with extreme gratitude to Drondon, 'It truly means the world to
us. ' The Mother's Deacon smiled, dipping his head respectfully, 'May I ask
what you will be naming the child?
', he replied to Speaker of the Stars.

A bright white moon shined brightly outside of the window, its gleaming
light beaming through the glass, washing over the newborn elf. Laendyn
smiled down at this baby girl, lightly stroking his finger over her soft
chubby cheek. 'Calithie.. ' he nodded, thinking of the Elvish word for
moonlight, 'Calithie Shalonost. '

Writer: Boof

Date Sun Aug 30 19:46:34 2015

To All ( Devion Imm Rp )

Subject (King of the Hill) ...or not?

Boof salivated at the chance to kill the Knights that stood at his bind
stone. The idea that they would dare come to hunt Bloodlust infuriated him
to no end. Carefully, with the grace of Devion guiding his footsteps, he
peeked outside of his hall and peered about. Many things could be seen,
useless treants and dumb tree-elves. None of this concerned Boof.

With murder in his heart and disgust in his very veins, he summoned the
power of Devion to see further than any normal mortal could. With the gift
of farsight, Boof could peer through the ether and see many leagues away.
As he did this, he witnessed his great forest peel back and reality itself
shape itself into something akin to a lens. The trees fell away in his
mind's eye, and so too did the vast distance of space until he could see his
bind stone.

"Der filth... " he whispered to himself, concealed within the forest. Just
as he had thought, the stone was quite literally -covered- with elves and

At that a plan began to form in his goblin mind. One of trickery and
deceipt, one of malice and hatred. A plan, as he saw it, that was bestowed
to him by Devion himself.

Running full speed, Boof arrived at his bind stone in no time. And with all
of the fury his heart could muster, he summoned the holy flames of Devion to
burn and torture his foes. The beauty of this particular spell was how
terribly it weakened a creature, causing injury from the sli ghtest of

Several members of both Knighthood and Shalonesti immediately sprang to
attack. But All they found was pain. Running full force one Knight was
badly blinded with a mouthful of spit and then weakened with magic.

Boof was a fool, no doubt, but he would not willingly kill himself. As such
he ran with wild abandon, and reached out gating to anything he could.

All around him were many crystalline creatures. They varied in size and
shape, but it was obvious they were fragile. He pondered for only a moment.
"No, dis will not do. " And with a thought he had arrived within Arkane.

His strategy had been formed, and had thus far worked. Heading to the east
gate he blasted holy fire at his enemies and once more blinded any within

Moving back and forth, this continued for several hours. He, always gating
to a new target, never allowing any to discern his whereabouts.

As he lagged, tired, and simply worn out, he attempted a mad dash past the
Knights and elves into the sanctity of his glorious Dungeon. Running past
crystals, he arrived on the bridge and dashed towards the trees on the

"Almost der... " he thought.

As soon as he rounded the corner to the forest, something grabbed him by his
throat and jerked him -violently- to the north. Fear and pain filled his
mind and the visage of Siccara filled his vision.

Standing All around him were Knights, and elves, and the statue of Siccara.
Boof cursed in anger and in fear as the Knights began to kick him. Crushing
his ribs over and over again.

The last thing he saw, past placid elves and the jeering Knights was the
statue of Siccara, smiling sweetly, as he was blugeoned to death.

Writer: Kaladon

Date Sun Aug 30 22:12:36 2015

Writer: Kaladon

Date Sun Aug 30 23:06:28 2015

Writer: Milleuda

Date Mon Aug 31 08:13:37 2015

Writer: Mahina

Date Mon Aug 31 08:47:46 2015

To All Imm RP

Subject New Hope and New Beginnings

Mahina walked the streets of Arkane taking one final look at what she was
leaving behind. The citizens were very nice to her and the city itself was
quite pretty but she never felt like she ever fit in. With the
disappearance of her fiance so long ago, she felt no need to continue her
stay within the kingdom. She had made her decision and off she went.

She entered the forest near Shalonesti and was struck by the beauty that
surrounded her, the trees, the flowers, even the vines caught her eyes. She
continued to walk towards the kingdom continueing to admire All that
surrounded her. She had finally reached the gates where two guards looked
her over as she entered the gates.

Mahina walked Emerald Lane until she reached the bridge, watching the water
flow by as she thought about letting her past flow with it. Those who cause
her pain, All the hurt, and All the frustrations. Start All over with a new
outlook. The only thought that bothered her was fitting in with the elves.
She had been amongst humans All her life and was never shown their ways.
She looked at the water a few more moments before continueing on.

She had finally reached the temple where the elf allowing her citizenship
was. They spoke for a bit and she answered his questions. After a while,
she became a citizen of Shalonesti. Her reception to the kingdom was
wonderful to her and totally unexpected. She was not only welcomed but also
assisted by everyone there.

She had never received that much attention so it felt a bit ackward to her,
but it felt nice to at least be seen. This opens a new chapter in her book
of life.

Writer: Meladee

Date Tue Sep 1 03:01:06 2015

Writer: Ashbie

Date Tue Sep 1 06:55:36 2015

To Verminasia Marcaus Iohan All Immortal Roleplay KWARS

Subject Raising Hell: Prelude of the Storm IV

"Right then. Who's next?"

Ashbie tilted her head to the side, looking down the line of a dozen men.
One of them was just repositioning himself, looking sore and uncomfortable.
Yet, in spite of that fact, the man had a small smile on his features. He
wouldn't be smiling the next morning when he woke up.

Then again, neither would Ashbie.

A man finally stepped forward from the line. He was only slightly taller
than Ashbie, but he had the build of a natural born fighter. His jaw was
square and hard, chiselled with defining contours that made him appear
like a bronze statue. As he turned to face her, Ashbie saw the darkness in
his eyes. He had a trimmed goatee around his mouth and chin and curly hair
that fell around his face down to his ears.

"I will." The man said. Without another word he lifted his sword.

The sword was made of wood, but so was Ashbie's. In her other hand she
held a wooden dagger as well. There was a brief moment of pause, of
calm before the swelling of the storm.

Then they sprang into action. There was a reason that fighting was often
referred to as dancing. When two people clashed, each with the highest
level of skill, there was something beautiful that surrounded it. From
the practised, nearly choreographed, footwork that each took, vying to
gain positional advantage, to the way they stared one another down like
partners on a dance floor.

The man, Ashbie remembered his name as Bayrd, struck out with a slash to
Ashbie's right side. A feint, she saw it just moments before the sword
arced up dangerously close to her skull. Ashbie was quick, parrying the
blow with a little upward motion of her sword. She lashed out with her
wooden dagger, but Bayrd took a couple of quick steps to the left and
she caught only air.

Ashbie noted the look of intensity in Bayrd's eyes. Though burning, his
eyes remained calm and focused. It was as if he was channelling All of his
hate and anger at her, letting that energy follow through with his sweeps
and strikes. Ashbie's heart beat faster.

Finally, a blow hit, but it wasn't Ashbie's. Sharp, white hot pain radiated
from her left shoulder. The pain ran down her arm and across her chest.
However, she was used to being hit, she was used to shrugging off pain.
Ashbie lost but a half a step, then plunged her own sword for Bayrd's
chest. He parried away the strike effortlessly.

The next blow did belong to Ashbie. A clever feint allowed her to land a
hard strike to his upper chest. Bayrd's eyes widened a little, then
narrowed as the intensity of his hate and anger seemed to grow. His hand
seemed to move more quickly, Ashbie matched the increased speed herself.
She thought back to practising with her father, Rikam. Though he loved
her, he never seemed to ease up in their sparring. He had been better,
faster, and stronger for the longest time. But then one day, All of that

Ashbie was in her late teens, and Rikam himself was starting to age a
little. In truth, it was a gradual process. However, in the moment, it
had felt so immediate. They were sparring and Rikam increased the speed
of his blows. Except, this time, Ashbie managed to match him. They had
danced along the deck of the Requiem, going back and forth. Ashbie had
still lost that day, but, to her, it nearly felt like she had won.

The blows were adding up now. Bayrd was edging ahead, landing two blows
for every blow Ashbie managed to land on him. She felt the fatigue building
up until, at long last, she parried aside a final blow and then said,

Obediently, Bayrd stopped. Though he was victorious, he appeared exhausted
as well.

Ashbie nodded and Bayrd stepped back into line. She looked up and down
at the line of soldiers. There was still work to be done, but much had
been accomplished.

"Lieutenant-General!" Ashbie called out. From out of the line emerged
a man, Iohan.

Writer: Aethelwine
Date Tue Sep 1 18:18:04 2015

Writer: Milleuda
Date Wed Sep 2 13:51:18 2015

Writer: Aviandha
Date Wed Sep 2 14:18:15 2015

Writer: Phred
Date Wed Sep 2 22:09:21 2015

To All Nordmaar Arkane IMM RP

Subject Phred in Faerie

She was overwhelmed at times within the Tower, the resplendent ethereal
glory of the Fae tickled her mind, a brilliant display, eyeful after eyeful
and she drank it down. It was almost giddy, this atmosphere of mirth and
self-indulgence. She fairly skipped down the hallways with the Prince of
Faeries guiding her. Their fingers twined together, usually she only
reserved such a touch for intimate people, but this felt right. Her hand in
the Princes hand, as they walked down corridors of light, the spangled hues
leading them through. She gave a glib smile, her blue green eyes seeking
the Princes eyes. The Prince of Faeries was unlike any she ever beheld.
The triple ringed eyes of amber and ochre and red, seemed to dazzle her.
She had given her music to the court for several days now, or was it weeks?
The days and nights seemed to blur together like a dreamy haze of seasons.
A night of silver, a day of gold, so many colors and textures, she was
overwhelmed and delighted.

And she had drunk of the faerie wine, that which was made from honeysuckle
and elderberry. She thought she should refrain, but the Prince had plied
her until she acquiesced. The jeweled goblet never seemed to run dry as the
Prince of Fae tipped it back for her to drink. The Sidhe court was gay and
merry around her, their colors like dawn, like sunset, so many different
shades of intensity. It almost made her eyes hurt. The laughter reigned
supreme here. The tendrils of magic wrapped Phred in their embrace and she
was lost in a glitter of joy. They sang to her! Theyre faerie voices like
the sweetest honey on the tongue, trippingly over the tongue! She played
with them until she was breathless and panting from the exertion. She
passed out over a stone bench, draped in purples and lavender and seeming to
grow ivy to pillow her unruly russet head.

She was thoroughly enthralled and she dreamed of herself walking in reality.
She dreamed in colors of silver and gold. They released her, the Faerie
Prince kissing her forehead anointing her with Fae objective.

Writer: Ilimilipili
Date Thu Sep 3 22:14:16 2015

Writer: Tanaal
Date Fri Sep 4 01:26:42 2015

To All Arkane

Subject Macabre Math

"Mister... Tanaal?" The boardmember said, rising intonation to make
sure he pronounced the name correctly.

"Yes," said Tanaal, back and shoulders stiff from scrutiny as he stood
surrounded on three sides by tables, each seat filled by senior scholars and
administrators of the University of Althainia.

"Mister Tanaal," the boardmember began, removing his spectacles and laying
down a book in front of him, "although we find no fault in your application
of theorems and proofs for your treatise of mathematics, we find that your
work is... Is..." The boardmember trailed, voice sqeaking a little as his
head weaved coronally.

A scholar beside the boardmember spoke up, "... Not exactly ethical."
Tanaal shot a glare at the scholar. "What do you mean, 'not exactly
ethical'?! Did I not show All my work? I've tabulated responses and
reviews to All rebuttals of my work, and applied the strictest standards of
academic rigor! "

In a counter-demonstration of indignation, the scholar spoke up, "Do you
have any clue? Any at all? Were you even paying attention to these
applications?" Reaching for a scroll, the scholar began reading off...

"Arc trajectory of dismembered limbs upon rebounding impact from high
elevations," the scholar said of the first entry.

"Predicting ricochet coefficients of projectiles to Dwarven beards," the
scholar said of the second.

"Instantaneous differentials of levels of fright upon witnessing murders,"
the scholar said of the third. "Mister Tanaal, do you have ANY idea where
you are?!"

Tanaal held a genuine, blank expression on his face. "In a boardroom, in
the University," he said blandly.

A scholar on the other side of the boardmember snapped at Tanaal, hands
slapping the table top, "The university of ALTHAINIA! These are hardly
topics of relevance that would advance Althainian values! "

Tanaal tutted and scoffed, "A-Althainian VALUES?! " he growled, raising his
voice, "This is an institution of higher learning! What is the point of
free inquiry if said inquiry is stifled by political agenda?!"

The boardmember sneered at Tanaal, "We are an educational institution, yes,
Mister Tanaal..." He began, "But we are first and formost an ALTHAINIAN

Tanaal's head darted left and right, feeling the desparation rising within
him as he was surrounded on All sides by syncophants. "All of you...! All
throwing away months of my work!"

The boardmember threw Tanaal's treatise at him, and it hit Tanaal's chest
with a thud. Tanaal grunted from being winded. "Get out of our University,
cretin! We don't need someone advancing their psychotic fantasies of the
macabre masquerading as rational inquiry!"

Looking up at the attendees of the meeting with tears of rage in his eyes,
Tanaal took his book and lurched away, clutching at his chest from the

"If they won't appreciate my contributions... " he grumbled through gritted
teeth, not finishing his thought before jumping to his next, "I will show
them! All of them!"

Writer: Tanaal

Date Fri Sep 4 10:25:38 2015

To All Althainia

Subject Thankless

... Somewhere on the streets of Althainia...

"I said, give me your gold! " the brigand growled from behind the cloth
over his mouth, knife to the throat of a woman pinned against a wall. "So
help me, if you even wimper louder than a puppy, I'll gut you! Make with
the coin! "

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, " threatened a voice from behind the
brigand. Knife still to the woman's throat, the brigand looked over his
shoulder to see a Dark Elf staring back at him.

"One step closer, and she dies! Then you'll be next! " snapped the

"Oh, don't worry, " said the elf, "I won't need to move from where I am. "
Obscured by shadows, the only sound from the shadows were a rubbing of
cloth, creaking of leather, then a loud BANG! With a flash of light.

Blood splattered against the face of the woman as the brigand's jaw was
exploded, now bleeding profusely. The brigand dropped the knife and keeled
over from the shock of fatal injury. Out from the shadows, Tanaal strode,
his wand drawn. "Are you alright, miss? You don't need to be afraid
anymore. He's dead."

When the woman finally mustered up the willpower from the loss of immediate
threat from the brigand, she let out a blood curdling scream from the horror
of seeing a mangled face splatter on her. Voices from nearby streets began
shouting, "Victim! Go, go, go! " The guards were coming, and the smoking
wand was in Tanaal's hands.

Tanaal sneered at the woman, "This is the thanks I get?! Forget you, lady!
Next time, I'll let a brigand cut you, instead!" Reaching into his belt
pouch, Tanaal pulled out a scroll. "Whatsitcalled... How does it go..."
Glancing around and back down at the scroll, Tanaal dashed off into the
darkness from where he came. "Jarl! No... Yirel! No...! How..."

"He went into the alley! Go, get 'im! " barked the guards, hot on Tanaal's
trail. Tanaal's voice started to quiver in panic. "Yurl! Yirl! Eerl!
Earl!" He prattled off, trying to activate the scroll.

"I think I see him! I'm going in! " shouted a guard, fast on approach.
Tanaal tightened his throat, tensed his cheeks, and curled his tongue when
he finally dropped the syllable: "YRL! " The scroll burst into a flame like
flashpaper, leaving an iridescent sparkle behind that swarmed about his feet
like flies on a rotten steak. Outstretching his arms to reach for the
gutter of the nearest roof, Tanaal willed himself in flight to reach the
rooftops, narrowly escaping persecution for his vigilantism...

Writer: Phred

Date Fri Sep 4 15:08:45 2015

To All Nordmaar Arkane Imm RP

Subject Phred in Faerie

After a disastrous, rather embarrassing event, Phred decided it was well
to leave the kingdom of the Faerie as an experience not to be repeated. She
had one hell of a hangover, yet. She roused herself from the hearth,
rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her muscles ached. She had restless dreams.
Her mind threatened to abandon her head. Her throat was parched. She
groaned and felt the unnatural pull of the Faerie Prince and Court. She
could ignore it. She pulled out a chair and lifted her instrument from
where it had rested, tuning it deftly. She played to entertain herself,
mostly and drowned out the insistent pull that she should rejoin the Faeries
for a Festival. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her tune. She
could ignore it or she could go mad. Brilliant. Bugger.

Writer: Zola

Date Fri Sep 4 18:03:07 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Darkonin Fatale

Subject X Fate and Fatale X

What was the old saying? Fate loved to make fools of those who planned.

Zola was such a fool. He had a compulsive need to plan. To organize.
Numbers and words had to fit a pattern, in his mind if nowhere else. His
daily life was almost clockwork in how it
went. Coldly, ruthlessly,
efficient. When the rush of blood was upon him in the heat of battle he
would cut loose and enjoy the anarchy and death, but outside
of that he was
first and foremost a schemer and a manipulator. He'd been working on some
of his plans with a long-term endgame, years or even decades into the
future. Being fully prepared to die at a moment's
notice didn't change
that. He intended to make his life meaningful before the end.

And now Fate had made a mockery of his plans.

He was needed in Abaddon. The Lord of Murder had made His will known. And
beyond even that, Zola had to admit there was little more he could do to
influence the Dungeon along
the proper path. Its members, while officially
a plethora of faiths including Necrucifer and Raije, honored Fatale in all
they did, slaughtering elves and knights and
ariels with great relish. He
was of no more use to them as a man of the cloth.

Bidding his farewell to the Warlord and Overlords, Zola bowed his hooded
head to the many killers and destroyers he'd come to know in Bloodlust,
setting at the Warlord's feet
a tribute of jeweled eggs to make the parting
easier. He also made sure to leave open the possibility of a return. Fate
had mocked him once before, he did not intend to make it so easy a second

The Dungeon's gates shut closed behind him, and Zola slipped out under the
cover of darkness on his journey home. No moons shone in the sky overhead,
making him All
but invisible as he walked the path towards Abaddon, Kingdom
of the Undead. His new home, and one in desperate need of re-vitalizing.
But what better place to continue
his work, than a city where what was dead
could be brought back?

Writer: Aethelwine

Date Sun Sep 6 00:35:36 2015

Writer: Elrei

Date Sun Sep 6 11:15:24 2015

To All Taliena Imm RP

Subject Another Day

Sleep eluded him, the torpid state of reverie so oft practiced by
other Elves slipped through his grasp leaving him both tired and restless,
fated to another day spent awake overlooking his garden; another day,
wearied by complaints both physical and emotional;

Another day, spent in silence.

It was true that he had made the retreat to his home, had blocked any
direct mental or verbal contact. It was arguable whether he'd been the one
to separate himself. In the span of time since he had left Althainia, more
than half of a year by the Old Calendar, none had attempted to initiate
contact with him by letter even to inquire about his departure. This only
served to underscore the belief, in his mind, that everyone was just as
well, or happier even, without him.

So much weariness: of the heart, the mind, the body. Too exhausted to do
anything of consequence, and yet never tired enough to sleep. On a good
day, he might manage the motivation for another set of cards, but that was
all. He still had hope that one of them might make life at least more
bearable for someone who found it. In the end, it would be something else
that faded with him.

That was the pattern. He would rise, lifting his vision into place by
sheer force of will, and break himself in the process, and then it would
fade when he no longer had the strength to carry it alone. Others would
come, would promise aid, would praise his ideas and goals, but would
ultimately do nothing. Was it any wonder he was so enervated, so

In his youth, and in times of youthful ideas and excitement, he had been
vibrant, vital - the body thrives when the heart has a mission - yet each
mission had been countered by the same flaw: lack of community. Even in
Althainia, when the sole purpose of his vision had been to build and
encourage community, he was faced with the apathy of those who did not see
its importance, those who did not care for any society save what they
already possessed. So the mission faltered. It was not valued, he was not
valued, despite being desired.

He had given a sermon on that, once: just because someone desires you
does not mean they value you. Still he had become another toy on a
toddler's shelf, wanted until broken, and then tossed aside. That was not
community. That was not respect, or love, or compassion, or Goodness.

Why was he unable to drift, to allow himself to fade away as others of
his kind had done? What use was this lonely existence of wakefulness in a
world without mindfulness? Was he simply hanging on out of a sense of
obligation, a fear of leaving the world as a failure?

Or did his heart have one more mission to impart? He'd have to spend
some time listening to figure that out.

Another day.

Writer: Trihp

Date Sun Sep 6 16:16:09 2015

To All Eszka Fynix Arkane Imms Dragons *RP*

Subject Birds of a Scale *P1*

He couldnt walk, he couldnt talk. What he could do was fly, he could
soar into the heavens and look over Algoron with so much potential, so many
stories yet unwritten. Trihp Aureus wasnt even a year of age. Son of Fynix
Aureus and Eszka. Why would he be bothered with learning to walk when his
feathers had started to come in, when he could lift himself into the sky and
be unbound by the rules of gravity. The first time he snuck out of his
families home he didnt stray far, each trip, in the dark of night grew
farther and braver. He watched, he learned, he knew when his parents had
exhausted themselves taking care of him, and would not wake. When he could
duck out an open window or squeeze through a cracked door down to the
garden, and then out, up and into the night air.

The first few times he left the comforts of home, he still couldnt fly very
high off the ground. Now, that his feathers were nearly completely grown a
banded black and yellow, and his bravery had increased. There was no limits
to his exploration, no place he wouldnt go and see. Sight, his simmering
gold eyes bubbled with interest at every speck on the ground, ever motion of
grass, every swing of a young warriors sword. It was how he learned, the
lessons life taught the baby in every word spoken, every action he

Love, his parents looked at him, and then looked at each other in a
different way. Protection, the way Eszka held him, even the way she scolded
him when he did something that could be harmful. That guidance he looked to
the two of them for, to know how to navigate this big brand new world
without fear. Friendship, the warmth he felt from the people of Arkane and
beyond the walls he had met so far. His lessons did not need to be
verbalized, he did not need to speak the words to understand them, to feel

Tonight, a different lesson was to be learned. The three moons of Algoron
sat perched among the stars, and the night air was crisp through his
feathers as the baby cherub lifted up and out of the housing area, and flew
high over Arkane. He could see the guards ever vigilant in there paroling
of the streets. Beggers stealing for their supper, avoiding those said
guards. He could see the temple, he could see the Phoenix Hoard, with his
sharp molten eyes he could even see the Roully Bab Binb in the great
distance. On the wind he could hear the chanting of magi as they performed
ritual. The baby Ariel heald up his teddy bear so that the dirty bear could
see everything before the pair. The bear in his mind was like his dad,
nearly the same person, he liked sharing All of his adventures with his
father, even when he wasnt there.

The air around the child changed, there was a motion that changed direction
from the natural winds. Craning his head he looked over his wings, to see
what was causing the flow. Tucking the bears head in his mouth, he almost
lost focus on beating his wings if it wasnt so instinctive, in the distance
it was another type of family. Two large red dragons flying quickly in his
direction, and he could spot something small and tiny between the pair of
them. It was a hatchling, a baby red dragon. Great plums of smoke rolled
from the mouths and nostrils of the epically large scaled giants. Even the
baby dragon as they got closer Trihp could now see was nearly four times his
size. He could see the motion of the parents eyes, every slight twitch
shared between the parents captured and memorized by his golden eyes.
Instinct took hold.

Writer: Trihp

Date Sun Sep 6 16:19:20 2015

To All Eszka Fynix Arkane Imms Dragons *RP*

Subject Birds of a Scale *P2*

Holding his bear tightly, the Ariel dove his wings down still keeping as
much of a watchful eye on the monsters as possible. A tumbling, twisting,
spiral took him as he had never tried to fly so fast, down toward the trees
north of Arkane. Panic gripped the babies vocal cords and though he tried
to screech, to holler for the dirty bear to help, nothing could come. In
the rolling his vision caught hold of the parent dragons turning to look at
the young. He closed his eyes as the first branch smacked across his face,
cutting a jagged gash across his pouty ruby red lips. He braced for more,
his hand slipping as his dirty white bear slipped from his hands and started
to tumble through the trees separate from him. He flapped his wings as much
as possible to slow the fall, and his hearing knew the baby dragon had
entered through the tree tops. He could hear it snorting, clawing down
through the thick vegetation. He was lucky babies were made to bounce as he
hit the forest floor. There was a sting of pain, and most children would
have cried for their parents, but Eszka had already placed in him the idea
that crying was bad, that it solved nothing. It certainly wouldnt protect
him from the red dragon. The size of a small horse the red beast snarled as
it tore down a couple more feet, perhaps it was playing with its meal.

Trihps eyes darted around, his reasoning wasnt as strong as an adult, or
even a toddler, but the strong desire for survival lifted his wings once
again, a droplet of blood fall from his lips to the ground below him. He
nearly forgot himself as he noticed his bear, lifeless it lay limp with a
long sharp jagged branch through its stomach, only a couple feet from where
hed fallen.

He thought like the begger, stealing for his food, he needed to hide, he let
himself fall to his chubby hands and knees and crawled toward a fallen tree
trunk. Going as deep inside as he could, his blanket diaper now completely
soaked from his fright. He could feel the vibration in the ground as the
baby dragon hit the earth. Each step the creature took against the leafy
ground caused a misery of feeling inside the baby. His molten gold eyes
looked through the opening, he could just see the developing scales of the
baby reds clawed feet. It was smelling the small droplet of blood from his
cut. Its head kneeling in close and taking a deep inhale of Trihp.

Trihps whole body shuddered as a gigantic roar raised up into the night. He
could see the baby dragons whole face now as it looked up toward the skies.
Trihp knew that roar, its parents were calling him back. For a brief moment
the baby red, and the Ariel made eye contact. In that moment Trihp knew,
they were forever bound.

The baby dragon gave a squealing roar and lifted back into the skies.
Cautiously Trihp crawled from the hiding place. He found himself crawling
in the footprint of the beast. His tiny hand dwarfed by the huge clawed
foot of his hunter. Letting himself wimper a little, he fluttered his wings
and lifted up, but not before plucking his dirty bear from its impaled spot.
He lifted back up and out of the forest cautiously. The cut on his lip
dried and bruising. He lifted himself back over Arkane, back toward his
home. He would sneak back into the bed, this time covered in dirt, sticks,
leafs, and just a smattering of his own blood...

Writer: Tanaal

Date Mon Sep 7 09:46:51 2015

To All Necrucifer Imm RP

Subject Without a Paddle (Part 1)

The stars in his vision eclipsed his other senses. He couldn't even feel
it when he was lifted off the ground after landing from such a hard blow.
Winded, Tanaal gasped for air as he was held aloft by a very
irate swamp

The ogre sneered and snarled at Tanaal, obviously less than pleased that
Tanaal encroached upon his territory. "Let... Me... Down...!" Protested
Tanaal. The ogre bellowed a scruff, phlem-laden chuckle, and obliged
Tanaal's demand by gripping the elf's thigh and swinging his body down,
slamming it against a fallen tree.

The impact stunned Tanaal, his weapon tumbling away from him as his control
was being brutally beaten out of him. The elf was helpless, groaning and
nursing his head and neck, curling his body from the pain of the impact. He
knew that another blow like that would render him completely unconscious and
at the mercy of the rageful (an possibly even hungry!) Ogre.

The ogre let go of his grip on the elf to turn his back and stoop down to
grab a small boulder. Tanaal managed to catch his breath, but the pain and
shock to his body still had him reeling and disoriented. Desperate, he
reached for his holster, and brandished his wand. Everything around Tanaal
seemed to swim in his eyes, making the ogre seem like some odd conjoined
twin from the dizzying effects of the double-vision.

Writer: Tanaal

Date Mon Sep 7 09:50:19 2015

To All Necrucifer Imm RP

Subject Without a Paddle (Part 2)

The ogre turned around, facing the elf, and raised the boulder over his
head, taking a step towards the elf, ready to deliver the killing blow.
Tanaal's wand-arm raised, pointing at where he could see the ogre's head,
but his eyes could not keep still enough to keep his hand from swaying as
though he were painting on a canvas.


The loud noise startled carrion birds in the nearby trees, causing them to
scatter towards the clouds. The ogre simply laughed as the shot missed and
hit the boulder instead. With a loud snarl, the ogre lurched his hips
forward to give himself more leverage for a downward throw of the boulder.


The ogre whined from the sting of the wand as the energy singed his fingers,
loosening his grip on the boulder and making him fumble it over his head.
The boulder rolled and turned in the ogre's grip as he tried to hold it
aloft and stabilize it again.

"This is it!" Thought Tanaal, "It's either now, or I'm swamp food!"


Tanaal's howling from the pain of the wand's explosion in his hand was
drowned out by the loud crunch of bones from the boulder landing on the
ogre's head, driving the ogre down to the ground and slamming it's head
between the ground and the boulder.

Writer: Tanaal

Date Mon Sep 7 09:55:30 2015

To All Necrucifer Imm RP

Subject Without a Paddle (Part 3)

Gasping, Tanaal rested for All of only a few seconds before he heard a
rustling of underbrush and the bog water only a few paces from him. Turning
to look in that direction, he sighed in relief when he saw nothing.

"So tired..." Tanaal thought, "I need to rest..."

Again, Tanaal heard the rustling, and turned to face it. The elf stared at
the source of the noise, noting that the clump of sticks, leaves, and
underbrush was closer than it was before just a few seconds ago...

Picking up a rock, Tanaal, idly threw it at the floating clump of
underbrush. He froze in terror as the mass roared, shook, and lurched
towards him. He was in no condition to fight, and his injuries put him in
no condition to run, either. "Necrucifer! Dark Father! I beseech thee
now!" Cried out Tanaal, "Grant me passage that I may gather power and wreak
revenge on my adversaries!"

A frigid breeze blew through the swamp, causing the shambling mound to
congeal and sink lower into the bog. The gust smelt of brimstone, ash, and
burning flesh. Tanaal was not sure if this was divine intervention, or some
disciple of the occult arts holding ritual nearby, but he wasn't about to
stay to make a distinction. Placing his hands together and concentrating,
Tanaal felt a tug on his entire being as he visualized the Temple of Arkane.
As he felt himself slip between planes, he sighed, "Thank you..."

Writer: Tanaal

Date Mon Sep 7 10:01:34 2015

To All Arkane

Subject Fulmination (Part 1)


Tanaal's mind reeled with disgust as his broken, exhausted body was
wheelbarrowed in to the Haven. He could barely move, much less speak, but
his blood burned with seething vitriol in his veins.


The nagging sense of inadequacy made Tanaal's jaw clench with rage. His
brow was wrung into knots over the scorn he had over his own weakness. The
pounding in his head throbbed harder and harder until he was groaning aloud.


"Get him to the cot," a voice said. Tanaal couldn't open his eyes from the
swelling of the beating he had endured earlier at the swamp. All he could
do was stew in his self-loathing for his careless weakness.

"Judicandus dies... " chanted the voice. The throbbing started to slow.
The fire of Tanaal's resentment, however did not seem to quench so easily.
The swelling of his face began to subside, and Tanaal let out a growl of
petulance, only to wince and groan in pain as he felt the tensing of his
diaphram press against his bruised ribs just for the act.

Writer: Tanaal

Date Mon Sep 7 10:05:43 2015

To All Arkane

Subject Fulmination (Part 2)

"Keep him down! Judicandus dies... "

Hands clamored over Tanaal, keeping him restrained from flailing about from
the pain that shot through him like forks of lightning. He gasped when he
felt his collarbone seemingly snap back into place with an icy soothing

"Stay calm, you are safe now...Judicandus dies," the voice continued.
Tanaal opened his eyes with another gasp, his lungs now finally capable of
filling with air without the stabbing pain of a thousand daggers tormenting
his chest.

"I will PURGE that swamp if it's the last thing I do! " barked Tanaal,
voice flaring with disgust. "You will stay put, and recover until you are
properly ready!" Rebuked the nearby voice. Tanaal looked to the source,
and his face met with the stern, deadpan expression of one of the healers.

"Judicandus dies, " chanted the healer. Tanaal whined from the odd
sensation of his ankle setting back into place. Sighing, he sank back into
the cot in weary resignation. "When you're done," croaked Tanaal in
exhaustion, "... Send for an Enchanter. And tell him to bring me a

Writer: Kaelowyth

Date Mon Sep 7 16:31:42 2015

To All ( Immortal Roleplay Storyline )

Subject Piercing the shroud (Part I)

It did not happen immediately, then again, nothing ever did when the Elf
was concerned. Even "Quickly" was a relative term when your lifespan was
measured in centuries rather than years and you had seen the rise and fall
of nearly every domain in existence. The pain and anguish was still there,
very much at the forefront of his mind - but the *reasons* behind those
feelings came sluggishly, as though it were molasses in winter. For what
could have been minutes, months, or years they came: The good - his marriage
to student Corrynthea, the bad - his near death at the hands of Zandreya's
avatar, and the shameful - his relationship with a Kender and subsequent
attempts at suicide.

Each scene played out before his eyes and the barren cold of his seaside
study took on life as if at a playhouse and the entirety of his life was
simply some cheap tragedy. What was worse, however, was the gnawing
sensation that there was something behind it all. It would start with
out-of-focus images - that of a strange and alien darkness, even tinging the
formerly stainless aura of the Elf. It continued through the images of him
being marked by Talmont - a far more sinister force hovering about - not
quite pouncing, not quite seeming to desire entrance, but rather content
with simply coercing. The disjointed thoughts and fleeting images of
apparitions real or imagined continued to grow and nest within his mind,
obliterating the images of the past one by one.

It was not his choice to walk away from the Vallens with his Staff, to seek
the Conclave and study its magic. It was not his choice to resort to
subterfuge and blackmail to secure his position in Arkane and later
Verminasia. It was not his choice to abuse Zandreya's power within him to
turn the land of Gyathoth into some horrific manifestation of himself. It
was not his choice to shun Valanthiriel in favor of the Crown's whims. It
was not his choice to don the cloth of Necrucifer's flock and to speak for
the disenfranchised. No. None of the events in his life had ever been
truly his. It had been *theirs*.

A horrible thought entered the Elf's mind now - knowing full well that the
lessers of the Dark Army would often seek hosts inside mortals, to escape
their duties as fodder for the Gods' wars. He knew several 'vampires' who
were little more than co-inhabitors of the same body. Had he unknowingly
accepted one within him? Had he somehow left a weakness exposed in what he
considered to be a formidable line of mental defenses? No, somehow he knew
the answer was no - this was something else. It was as if he had a constant
murmur, a constant voice leading him forward - but unable to control him
directly. A trusted advisor who he did not even know. Throughout the years
of his priesthood, he thought it simply the voice of his deity - be it
Zandreya or Necrucifer - he always attributed the voice to their will.


Writer: Kaelowyth
Date Mon Sep 7 16:33:04 2015

To All ( Immortal Roleplay Storyline )

Subject Piercing the shroud (Part II)

It was surely not. How foolish he was, in retrospect - to believe that
the Gods themselves would ever whisper to him their secrets, their desires,
their wills. No, this voice, this terrible partner in crime was far more
insidious and far more close to him than to the divine. But whom could have
planted the seed which allowed such an influence to exist? Could it have
been one of the Speakers, when his anger grew too large during the Senate
meetings? Could it have been the Queen when it was his word versus that of
a godless Felar, a pesky firstborn, and a woman of dubious character -
forcing him to debase himself? Could it have been the King when he forced
him to marry 'for the good of the lands'?

The thoughts raced quicker now, and his blood seethed with that rage once
again. The images and scenes from his past were now awash with red and
black, a far cry from the muted sepia of before. He knew it was someone's
fault. He knew it was not *his* weakness. He knew it was above mere
mortals. He knew it was beneath the Gods. The left the semi-divine, the
demons, the angels, the voyeurists who watched with mad glee.

He was above it all. Divine in his own right - tied to the land he now
could not leave. One of the few to stand before the Gods and walk away with
his head held high. He would find the source of the being that dared to
manipulate him, and he would make it answer to him. The fury spurred him to
stand - his body trembling with rage and filling the cold stone chamber with
heat. He could almost see it now, the figure of another staring
contemptuously at him, as if knowing he were All bluster. But there is one
thing that he was sure of - there would be no turning back from this. He
remembered too much now, and he saw the world for the sickly and dead place
that it was. He had given up the pretty little refuge within his mind and
this thing would pay the price.

Mortal or more than mortal. Divine or mundane. Evil or good. It would
serve him. Until the sun grew cold and the land died, this... *thing*
would serve him.

For once, Kaelowyth would be the master.

Writer: Kaelowyth
Date Mon Sep 7 16:34:28 2015

To All ( Immortal Roleplay Storyline )

Subject Piercing the shroud (Part III)

Upon marshalling his strength and cleaning himself and his study up from
the ravages of his memories coming to light, Kaelowyth set to work. He
sought out every tome related to the class of beings that were not quite
Gods, but nor were they simply mortal beings with finite lifespans. All
number of treatises were found: How to invoke and serve the Greater Demons,
tales of looking directly at at Balanx, a history of the first strain of
'Vampirism' within the Vallenwoods and Zandreya's subsequent purge of the
dark creatures. All of these however, steered clear of the actual nature of
the relationship between these creatures and mortals. It seemed as though
the authors either thought it did not warrant such because it was already
known to them, or they were too weak-willed to desire to discuss it. Either
way, it gained him nothing.

The only piece of text that even began to provide some direction was an
ancient one, written in the dark times after the separation of the Elven
bloodlines, and the mass exodus of many of the races to distant parts of the
globe. There was a simple musing that if the magi had found a way to
command one such as a dragon by entrapping its essence, there would surely
be a way to perform similar feats upon even more divine beings. Had this
been true? Surely the Shokonese believed in something vaguely similar -
that All manner of spirits and whatnot inhabited nearly every damned thing -
from tiny slips of paper hung above door ways, to rocks in a garden.
Ridiculous, to be sure - but what *if* they had stumbled upon something in
their seclusion? Why did magics of transportation fail when focused up
their land? Why was there such a desire to conquer and campaign there?
Perhaps there *was* something.

It was a gamble, to be sure - for Kaelowyth could no longer leave the
confines of Gyathoth for any extended period of time without succumbing to
great discomfort and weakness. Yet he could not abide by the centuries of
torment he had suffered, and he must find the one to answer for such. It
was decided even before he reached the portcullis - he would go to Shokono
and find what there was to be had. While he had abandoned the work of
Zandreya, he still commanded the lands here, and so it was that earth
crumbled away and the chasm which separated Sylvestris Hold from the rest of
Gyathoth grew wider and without crossing. In his absence, only the most
foolhardy of robbers would attempt to gain entrance - and even then, they
would have to make it back out.


Writer: Kaelowyth
Date Mon Sep 7 16:35:46 2015

To All ( Immortal Roleplay Storyline )

Subject Piercing the shroud (Part IV)

Booking passage on a simple single-masted ship, Kaelowyth knew time would
not be in his favor - but he still needed time to think. Nothing of this
made sense, and what better place than the middle of the one thing he
despised most: The open ocean. The first few days were not kind to the Elf,
seeing him seasick and anxious at the lack of land. But as the currents
grew steady and the skipper assured him All was well, he was finally able to
pen some notes to himself, as if putting quill to paper would help make
sense of his situation.

He did not know where he was born, nor what his parents did or did not do.
He remembered his youth in the Desert Jewel, and another male who was quite
likely his brother. He could not remember precisely when the voices
started, nor when he 'knew' he was different from the rest of his kin - but
there was something there. Yes, he had always 'felt' old, and many times
memories seemed as if to overlap - recalling the glory days of many empires,
even as they crumbled and had sparse populations around him. That was
surely not normal, and as he penned these thoughts out - they seemed absurd.
Was he losing his mind? Had the curse upon the mirror not been that he
would grow weak in hiding from his memories, but that he could never
actually be sure which were his and which were another's? Was the curse
madness in its worst form? No, simply because things did not make sense now
did not mean they would not later.

And so he forced himself to continue - writing All that he could recall,
hoping to find some scholars or a historian within the port upon his
arrival. He knew All of this was a longshot, and by the fifth day when
Shokono was in sight, already the weakness began to course through him -
making him feel as though he simply *had* to return to Verminasia. But he
would not. And as he finally set boot upon terra firma, Kaelowyth looked
out upon the city of the Shokonese and grimly nodded to himself.

He would find his answers here. Perhaps he would not make fully good on his
promise of retribution, but it would be a start.

Writer: Kaelowyth
Date Mon Sep 7 23:40:37 2015

To All ( Immortal Roleplay Storyline )

Subject Piercing the shroud (Part V)

The sights and sounds of Shokono had always struck Kaelowyth as being
wholly alien. From the way they worked diligently, almost tirelessly - to
the way they showed the utmost respect to the most mundane things. It
proved easy enough to find the elders of the community - for they All seemed
to congregate near the center of town once a day to play some strange game
that appeared to be similar to something he'd seen before but could not
quite place. Getting them to talk was another matter.

An intense distrust of outsiders was to be expected, considering that the
former generations of Shadow Lords had done a little more than 'try' to
subjugate them. While he was certainly older than even the most venerated
gray-beard here, he knew he could not force them to part with what they did
not wish to, and so he had to result to negotiating. Money held no
interest, nor did promises of land or slaves - no, these people valued only
one thing: knowledge. Perhaps in another life, he would have felt ill at
ease bargaining away his past, but now the memories were simply chits to be
bartered away. They wished to know of the Arlathil? He told them. They
wished to know the number of 'gifted' individuals within the walls of
Verminasia? He told them. But there was one subject that gave him pause.

His allegiance. One of the elders with a crooked smile asked the Elf if he
still served two masters. If he would betray them. If he had any one or
thing he valued above all. The question outwardly was ridiculous, for what
would one of these Island-folk possibly care about his past for? But he
knew it was a test, a much darker ulterior motive for the inquiry presented
itself: They knew of others like him. He could not answer immediately, for
it *was* true that he served Verminasia, and that he served Necrucifer - but
were they not one and the same? Surely, he served himself and his land -
but such selfishness was one of the tenets of lower evil and completely
acceptable, especially for a priest. Even as he did not answer, their eyes
seemed to see into the core of his being, demanding an answer.

A face briefly flashed into his mind - the last face he *had* been loyal to.
One who had sacrificed much for him, and yet still he betrayed. Had he
truly been loyal to her? If things had been different, if this 'thing' did
not counsel him otherwise, would he have grown old with her? Perhaps, but
there is no way to know. "No." The answer is simple and truthful under the
scrutiny of the elders, each one nodding a creased and leathery face.

"Come. You must learn to venerate your past, to purge yourself of the
present, and prepare yourself for the future."

With that, Kaelowyth was no longer a Count, nor was he a Priest, nor a
Warder, and least of all... A Highborn. He was now a student.

Writer: Milleuda
Date Tue Sep 8 09:56:37 2015

Writer: Tanaal
Date Tue Sep 8 11:15:34 2015

To All Althainia RP

Subject HERE'S TANNY! (Part 1)

Shrieks of horror filled the library as the symposium, hosted by the
University Board, was disrupted. Stacks of books and papers were now
splattered with blood, and bloodied footprints were splayed in all
directions away from the bodies that littered the floor. Between the
overturned tables and chairs, only one figure was visibly standing: Tanaal,
his hands and face covered in the blood of the library's occupants.

Tanaal sang, his voice skipping like a gleeful child in a field of
dandelions, "Iiiiin the mor-ning when I wake-up and I stum-ble out of

Tanaal lept over an overturned table to find one of his targets, a professor
from his expulsion meeting, cowering in fright. Tanaal's hand lunged to
seize the professor by his combover, and pulled upward, bringing the
professor to extend his neck with a wince. With a swing and sawing motion,
it took All of three seconds to decapitate the professor, but the feeling of
vindication was immediate.

"I chop-up the poor vic-tim and put-on that vic-tim's head..."

Raising the disembodied head, Tanaal placed it atop his own, blood trickling
down his temples and forehead. The sight caused more screaming and
whimpering to come from around him. Reaching for his holster, Tanaal drew
his wand up to shoulder height, and extended his arm to point towards a set
of bookshelves at the other side of the room.

"do-e-sn't much-"
"mat-ter if the-"
"dark-moon's zen-ith-"

Riddled with cauterized fleshwounds, a boardmember slumped backwards and
into view from behind the bookshelf, lying dead in the path between the
shelves. Tanaal clapped with glee and continued singing...

"Because a ge-nius is a hap-py fellow al-most All the time...!"

Tanaal waved his wand like the conductor of an orchestra, flicking his
wrist and firing off in different directions in rhythm to his rhyme, shots
piercing through the overturned furniture and killing the attendees.
Familiar faces slumped to the ground as Tanaal murdered his former
colleagues one by one in cadence to the song.

"I said a-"
"ge-nius is a-"
"hap-py fellow-"
"al-most All the-"

Lifting the disembodied head off of his own, Tanaal turned the head to face
him, squeezing the lips from grasping around the jaw and jabbering the
mouth simultaneously with his own.

"We said a ge-nius is a hap-py fellow al-most All the time!"

Writer: Tanaal

Date Tue Sep 8 11:21:14 2015

To All Arkane RP

Subject HERE'S TANNY! (Part 2)

Through the streets of Arkane, Tanaal danced and sang, attracting the
attention of citizens and guards alike. The strangest thing of all, it
seemed, was how happy this man was despite looking as though he endured a
thorough scouring from a dungeon sentence. Then again, there was so much
blood that no one could really tell who's
blood it really was...

"Oh, I tra-vel 'round the land, a-nd wher-ever I roam..."

Tanaal's gait stopped and started intermittently in cadence, crouching one
knee and extending the other heel out diagonally along the ground before
straightening to both heels clicked together in a straight-kneed military
stand. He alternated legs as he made his way down the main street.

"From the drea-ry dreaded swamps, to the dark for-ests back home..."

Tanaal danced up to a passing human flower girl who looked no older than
nineteen, bowed to her in a ballroom-like fashion, and immediately seized
her hand. The girl gasped and whined nervously, evoking the concerned
glance of the city guards. The guards kept their hands on their weapons,
shoulders squaring off in Tanaal's direction, and ready to strike. Tanaal
wrapped an arm around the girl's waist, and extended his other arm to hold
the girl's arm out as if in a waltz. The girl whimpered as she endured his
bouncing and rocking at the knees...

"I raise my head and say, in a loud re-sounding voice... "

Tanaal let go of the girl's waist and pulled his other arm inward, turning
the girl about and making her dizzy from spinning her away from him.
Stumbling, and losing a few flowers from her basket, the girl tried to
balance herself before clutching to a nearby guard to keep still. Tanaal,
still moving the arm that spun the girl, extended his stance, holding both
arms out from his sides and lifting his chin to the sky, singing his next
line with a robust mock-vibratto...

"Be-e-ing a ge-ni-us is aw-a-fully noice!!"

Writer: Trihp

Date Tue Sep 8 15:24:39 2015

To All Fynix Eszka Mika Kaladon Dragon Arkane Imm *RP*

Subject The Red *P1*

Brianarii of the Phoenix Hoard did her best to calm the squealing screech
of the tiny Ariel. Like his wings, his voice were the first to develop, and
his excitement could nearly burst the ear drums anyone close enough to hear
him. Brianarii was smart enough to pass out ear plugs when he came around.
He loved the gambling room, the sounds the sights. Trihp Aureus loved
excitement. Not even a year old and he was thrilled by anything shiney. He
already knew certain objects were coveted by the people of Algoron. Shiney
blue diamonds, sparkling white, black diamonds. Even coin was an object of
interest but didnt taste as good as the more desired. Jeweled eggs, hed yet
to get his hands on one, but he had plans. Even if these plans were only
shared between him and his dirty bear with a hole in its chest, they would
have a huge collection of these tucked in his diaper if he could manage it.
Hed come to realize with just the right expression, just the certain amount
of helpless desire people would give him just about anything.

Brianarii did her best to keep Trihp entertained outside of gambling, but he
loved the range of emotions people showed while they played. Even if they
lost he found their anger and sadness funny because it was quickly replaced
when they won, the ups and downs seemed almost staged, acted with the
routine and speed it came and went. Trihps keen molten gold eyes taking in
every motion, every sound with lightning speed. This was his birthright,
the eyes of an Ariel, the ears hearing of his people. The sensation was
invigorating, electric at times, even addicting.

He looked to his bear in questioning, as if the little stuffed animal
reminded him of something he should be doing. In powerful strides of his
wings, with little concern of what was around him he burst from the gambling
room and out an open window into the sky. Brianarii shook her head looking
to the spilled drinks in his wake.

Writer: Trihp

Date Tue Sep 8 15:26:37 2015

To All Fynix Eszka Mika Kaladon Dragon Arkane Imm *RP*

Subject The Red *P2*

Look The bear dangling from his chubby digits, Trihp soared high into the
skies above Arkane. There was the cool sensation as the wind ruffled
through his banded gold and black feathers, as the skies brushed through his
wavy black hair. The babies bear often had the best ideas, and lately it
had one mission for the pair, to find the baby red dragon that they had come
face to face with a few days prior. There was a certain amount of fear
still lingering, but a burning questioning curiosity that had to be
discovered. He had never seen anything so grand, so monstrously exciting as
the hatchling dragon. Even if it had planned to make him its meal.

Hed tried to tell his parents of the adventure, even some of his friends
Meki and Kaladon. Meki his walking wemic rug, he loved to lay on the
leonines back and pull at the fur. Kaladon whos magic left him in a state
of wonder. The Ariel listened to each casting, watched the movement of each
invoking. Hed even developed the instinctive habit of turning himself
invisible, much to the regret of his mothers bank account keeping herself in
supply of potions to keep track of him. Yet, the dragon encounter remained
a shared secret between himself and his dirty bear. A great squawking flock
of birds rather rudely pushed past Trihp as he monitored his surroundings.
The creatures seemed in a state of panic, as if being chased by their
parents when it was time for bed.

Trihp headed in the direction from which they had come, swooping lower as he
neared the glinting waters of the massive oceanside. He let his diapered
bottom come to rest on the side of the sea cliffs. His molten gold eyes
staring at the waves hammering the sides of the stoney fall. This was the
edge of his world. Hed been taken through portals with Meki and Kaladon a
couple of times to worlds strange and outside of Arkane. On his own
however, this was his boarder. This was as far as he knew, and felt safe
enough to travel. He wondered at what was past this great expanse. The
warm sun washed over the baby and he let his dirty bear sit on the ground in
front of him. Today he did not find the baby red dragon that so strongly
imprinted itself on him. He contented himself with a blue diamond from his

It didnt matter, the world had so many possible days ahead of it. So many
chances to collect All the objects of his affection. It just wasnt in the
cards today, even so he knew that just as he was looking for the red, it too
was looking for him.

Writer: Ashbie

Date Tue Sep 8 22:06:52 2015

To Verminasia All Marcaus

Subject Bloody Rats!!!

There was a loud... something or other.

Blearily, Ashbie looked up. Saliva trickled out of one corner of her
mouth. Vaguely, she swept it aside with an all-too-familiar motion of her
hand. Blinking, she took in the empty bottles and glasses laid out on the
table before her like casualties of battle.

"Bloody hell." Ashbie muttered, slowly rising, then collapsing against
the chair.


"There's no rats here, miss. Kindly take your pardons there."

Ashbie looked up at the main who had come over to her table. Portly, he had
an affable look about him. "What time is it?" She asked.

The man scratched his chin, looking out the window for a moment, "Well, I'd
say it's mid-morn anyway."

"Bloody rats!" Well, it wouldn't be the first time Sacnoth was vacant at
the table.

Writer: Phred

Date Wed Sep 9 11:43:04 2015

To Nordmaar Abaddon All Devion Imm RP

Subject Phred Outta Faerie

It was time to end this incessant blather in her head. Phred awoke to
the pull once more. She groaned and rolled out of bed. She stood and took
in the bedroom. She was still in Faerie. How in the world? And then
everything came crashing back, not even a breaker to yield the cascading
wave. Like being dragged with the undertow she fought to quell the images.
The Prince of Fae, he was the orchestrator of this game. Phred poked out
her lips and took a step towards the door. Two Knights of Fae blocked her,
she lifted her arms in typical coy female style, then roundhoused the
tallest, kicking the other in the shin. She winced running between them,
she needed to get to the Queen, settle this ordeal once and for all. She
skirted to the left, sliding past another guard, dodge and ducked and skid
into the Queen of Fae's room. The Faerie Queen, with charms and unworldly
beauty raised an elegant arched brow. Phred quickly averted her eyes to try
to keep herself from being swayed by the Sidhe magic. She had to stand her
ground and gain her freedom back. She ground her teeth, the magical charm
of the Fae was almost suffocating. The Queen took a step forward and Phred
a step back.

Let me go. I don' belong here and I'm not marrying yer son. Yer keepin' me
here, in't gonna change my mind.

The Queen tossed back her head, a silvery laughter full of threat. Phred
understood well the double standard the Faeries held, the Sidhe were vain
and self-righteous. Their kingdom was an altogether different world from
any other kingdom. And they got very mean when they didn't get what they
wanted. The Queen's triple ringed irises seemed to be trying to bore a
whole through Phred's head.

Las' chance, I don' wanna fight ya but I will.

The Queen laughed again and began to spin her magic, her words slow and
binding, working up the energy to through against Phred. Phred started to
sing and attacked. The Queen was strong and Phred not so much. Phred was
stubborn though and kept finding places in the Queens defenses to stab with
her dagger, the axe in her other hand was held back by the Faerie Queens
strong grasp. They both danced with deadly intent around the room. The
Queen was certainly powerful. Phred understood if she could just get the
crown from off her head the Queen wouldnt be able to draw more magic from
her kingdom and subjects. She had seen what the crown could do and she
tried not to think of what the Queen would do to her if she didnt with this
battle. The screamed at each other and wrestled over the room, knocking
over a vanity, jars and jewelry scattered. The Queen was gaining the upper
hand and Phred was getting tired. The Queen slammed her against the gilded
mirror and it shattered, shards of glass raining down on Phred. And bam
blinded, Phred kept her guard up but was swinging wildly, trying to listen
for the Queens actions. She could feel warm blood tricking down her back.
The Sidhe Queen was light on her feet and knocked Phred back, the door to
her chambers cracking under the force of her blow. The air left Phreds
lungs and she took a second to try to regain her feet. The Queen easily
picked Phred up and tossed her out of the room. Phred crumpled against the
hallway floor and promptly passed out.

Writer: Phred

Date Wed Sep 9 13:44:26 2015

Writer: Archal

Date Wed Sep 9 13:51:46 2015

Writer: Archal

Date Wed Sep 9 13:53:03 2015

Writer: Laniath

Date Wed Sep 9 18:11:23 2015

To All Imm RP

Subject Decisions

Laniath entered the gates of Althainia after her long trip away,
wondering why she had seen no familiar faces nor heard any familiar voices.
As she continued towards the temple of the High Priest no one was their when
usually the temple was busy. When she finally did hear voices, their were
citizens disrespecting each other, she wondered what was going on.

She started reading through the many parchments that had collected over time
and some struck her quite odd. Many of her friends had left the kingdom and
some of the circumstances were a bit questionable. She continued to read
through her parchments until she reached the last. Laniath found the
Snowdragon name to be a highly respected name and was offended to know she
had changed it. Although the Snowdragons are better off she thought.
Hearing about Cieran was also a shock to her and only made her more angry at
the thought of what she did.

So many thoughts flew through Laniath's head, from everything she read to
everything she was told it made her decision to leave so much easier.
Althainia was not the kingdom she once knew and loved it had turned into
something none could recognize, but a shell of what it once was, its majesty

Writer: Rhilacia
Date Wed Sep 9 20:36:32 2015

Writer: Aethelwine
Date Wed Sep 9 23:53:21 2015

Writer: Ilimilipili
Date Thu Sep 10 16:29:49 2015

Writer: Ry'veleth
Date Sun Sep 13 16:52:20 2015

To Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom All ( Zandreya Imm RP )

Subject One the edge of your ear...

The day was stunning. Clear skies were tainted by faint traces of wispy
clouds that were as pearly as the gems that clams made. The sun was high
and bright, but a soft, cool breeze swirled about, caressing cheeks and
napes, cooling away any sweat that beaded up as soon as it formed. The
ocean was calm, untroubled by storm or current so that the waves lapped
languidly against the shore, their rhythm soothing and hypnotic. The sound
of water rocking the ship was as sweet a lullaby song as any Ry'veleth had
ever heard. As she stood on the port side of the Constellation, watching
the port from near the gangplank, she felt at peace.

The Speaker had allowed her to return to the life she loved - the life she
knew - and to use her skills as an experienced sailor to help the elves of
the Vallenwood. The Speaker had proven to be knowledgeable, as well, and
while it surprised her, it also made her feel more at home. She stood
patiently, keeping watch, as the Speaker and his young daughter, along with
Mahina and a few other elves took their time exploring the city of Shokono.
She was All too glad to stay behind, to enjoy the quiet serenity of the ship
and her own thoughts.

As her mind wandered like a piece of flotsam on the waves of her musing,
Ry'veleth's amber colored eyes grew heavy. While she watched and waited and
mused, the sound of the waves bumping into the hull began to take on a new
life. The creak of the ship, the sound of the wheels and pulleys, the flap
of the sails and the murmur of the people down below at the harbor coming
and going - it All began to blend together. Becoming a symphony so sweet
that it ensnared her as surely as a fish within a net. It toyed with her
mind, seduced her and entranced her. The melody latched onto her very bones
and spirit until she was no longer on the ship, but somewhere else entirely.

Then the young princess, Calithie, board the ship, followed by her father,
the Speaker.

Just like that, the spell of the song was broken, and for a moment, she
wanted to wail and scream, to pitch herself over the side of the ship to
pursue it, or drown. Either option seemed good as the grasp of the song
broke, lingered on the edge of her ears, then faded.

Choking back the tears, Ry'veleth smiled warmly at the princess as the kind
elven maiden piled gifts and trinkets into her hands from the journey
ashore. In particular, Ry'veleth found joy in the little jade figure of a
tiger that gleamed in the light and reminded the sailor of the waters near
the shores of the Aelin where she grew up.

The return to the kingdom was uneventful, and quick, though Ry'veleth kept a
wary eye on the Speaker as he continued to shake and mumble now and then.
The thought of spirits on her ship made Ry'veleth's blood run a little cold,
but then the Speaker mentioned the Song. She recalled the words of her
friend, Elexander, and his warning that she might be experiencing the Haunt.

After everyone else disembarked the ship, Ry'veleth remained. She worked
hard to make certain everything was secured, cleaned, and well-maintained.
But always, as she worked, she thought she heard the faint sound of the song
tickling the edges of her ears. It was the first time in her life she ever
wanted off of a ship.

Writer: Takeri
Date Sun Sep 13 19:29:04 2015

Writer: Adenah
Date Mon Sep 14 20:49:18 2015

Writer: Preeti
Date Tue Sep 15 08:00:48 2015

Writer: Drondon
Date Tue Sep 15 09:30:06 2015

To Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Preeti ( Zandreya Imm All )

Subject A special trip home

Drondon held tightly to his future wife's hand, but not too tight. He
was actually nervous a bit, and only a few things could that to him.
Different thoughts raced through him mind, will they like him, find him
worthy of their daughter, this is a huge house, and where the hell did the
servants go?

He'd been to Shokono a few times, explored the city some, ate the sushi, he
loved the sushi, but this was new, a lot of it was. Before they had made it
to the house that Preeti grew up in, and her parents still lived, she
pointed out things he never noticed. Cherry blossoms, merchants selling
wares and what nots, and the sheer beauty of the city.

The large akita walked in front, every once in a while it's head would look
over it's shoulder to the half-elf as the animal never broke stride.
Drondon wondered if it was sizing him up, or silently judging him, but kept
a smile none the less.

The neighbors were friendly, kind, and some even grinned when Drondon was
introduced, and he showed them the utmost respect as he would if they were
any other. He noticed something though, the dog was here, Preeti was right
next to him, and the servants who hung back were now gone. Finally at the
door now, he could sense his fiance's excitement. Excitement to be home,
and excitement to have her love meet her parents.

The door opened slowly, standing in the foyer were a couple of Shokonese
perfection. Preeti's father was a statuesque man, her mother was a hair
shorter, her arm linked to her husband's and a small smile on her face. Her
father's face, not so much.

Drondon gave his fiance's hand a squeeze as she led him past the threshold
to stand before her parents.

Writer: Meladee
Date Tue Sep 15 20:48:10 2015

Writer: Preeti
Date Wed Sep 16 06:31:41 2015

Writer: Drondon
Date Wed Sep 16 09:07:36 2015

Writer: Drondon
Date Wed Sep 16 09:11:21 2015

Writer: Trihp
Date Wed Sep 16 14:24:42 2015

To All Eskza Fynix Arkane Dragon Imm *RP*

Subject Red Returns *P1*

Drink bot drink bot eat pizz A stillness haunted each branch of the dark
forest canopy. Life seemed to stand still, and Trihp although only on the
verge of a year old had hunted long enough to know what that meant. A
predator was close. His simmering gold eyes watched carefully and quietly
from his perch high in the leafy coverings of the tree tops. His curiosity
of the beast had been peaked months ago. While flying free when he knew he
his parents Fynix and Eszka assumed him home fast asleep. The Baby Red, the
scaleless hatchling. A dragon as big as a horse, with a burning fire
starting to grow in his stomach. This is what he was hunting, this is what
he knew was close. Just as the dragon had been watching him.

Hed caught sight of the beast one other time in the last few months. Hed
been with his parents, spending time looking out at the world from the
Balcony of their massive home. He knew they hadnt seen the Red, even if he
tried to explain in gibberish, knowing the dragon had smelled his blood,
bonded in some sinister way with the baby Ariel. Its shadow had flown
across the night sky, casting itself over the white moon, just for a moment.
Just long enough for the child to catch sight. It had been following him,
the Red was studying him.

Trihp Aureus waited, he kept his dirty bear with a hole in its chest close
to him. Whispering to it in their secret language that changed depending on
what felt right at the time. Not a forest creature in sight, he heard it, a
cracking crunching crash of a fallen tree limb on the forest ground. He
spotted it a couple hundred yards away. Its mighty foot ripping through the
bark with little effort or concentration on what was under foot. The Baby
Red had grown some, it was now twice the size of any horse hed ever seen.
Instinct took hold and Trihp vanished from normal sight. His time around
mages had some interesting effects. It seemed he had a natural gift for
basic magics. His eyes could charm people and creatures without realizing
he was doing so, and his ability to hide from sight came instinctively.

The beast snorted small trails of smoke blowing out into the chilled night
air around it. He knew that the first born could smell him even at the
great distance, as gifted at smell as the Ariels sight. A spark of
excitement rumbled in Trihps stomach. To be so close to the object of his
infatuation. He could make out each of its sharp fangs, easily the size of
the babies arms. It had started to grow into its scales, a shining molten
red coat that glistened in the moonlight.

Writer: Trihp

Date Wed Sep 16 14:26:53 2015

To All Eskza Fynix Arkane Dragon Imm *RP*

Subject Red Returns *P2*

A sharp noise right under him startled the baby Ariel. His diaper, it
housed All of his prized possessions including many diamonds and jewels.
The checkered cloth and sprung a leak and his sparkling jewels began to
topple out of the leg hole. A panic flashed in his eyes as he heard the
crashing of the giant red. It could smell him and now it had a source to
seek him out. Beating his powerful wings, Trihp started to climb, he
smacked and thrashed at tree branches as he made for a hurried escape. It
was too late, he could smell the sulfuric breath of the Baby Red, and it
reached him in seconds. Swatting the infant with his tale the Ariel lost
himself in painful fall back toward the earth. Only managing to break his
rapid decent with a couple quick pumps of his wings, he hit a deep puddle of
water with a splash.

His little bottom lip quivered and he felt his emotions swell as did a lump
on the top of his head. He felt the ground groan as the beast fell back
down next to him. He could hear the squish of mud between its claws. He
could feel its hot breath on the back of his neck. He did not move, closing
his tiny gold eyes he dared not move from his crawling position in the muddy
puddle. Its snout pushed at his checkered diaper, that was not a dark brown
from mud, and maybe just a little pee. He waited for it, at any moment the
Red would open its mouth and chew him apart in a few short bites

Then there was nothing, the smell of sulfur started to fade, the feeling of
something close in a moment vanished. Trihp risked a glance over his
shoulder. He was alone, the dragon now gone. His baby face trembled in a
state of shock, he scooped his dirty bear from the mud, it had gone from
dirty to disgusting. Cuddling the stuffed animal close he looked to the
footprint of the Baby Red. It had been playing with him, it was hunting him
much as he had been looking for it. It had wanted to show him its power,
its will over the Ariel. It had wanted to show him who was in control. The
muddy water was cold, and he shivered, Trihp startled as he gave a loud
sneeze. The long curled teeth of the Red Dragon still flashing in his mind.

Writer: Nefastus

Date Wed Sep 16 21:06:18 2015

Writer: Nefastus

Date Wed Sep 16 21:15:41 2015

Writer: Nefastus

Date Wed Sep 16 21:18:45 2015

Writer: Damerus

Date Thu Sep 17 02:21:31 2015

To All Arkane ( Imm RP Storyline )

Subject Odyssey: The Boat

'Ye got a name? '

Silence is All the answer that could be given to that question at first.
The struggle to think was still strong, and the pain he felt despite finally
being awake was a large reason for that. He sat in a relatively small room,
with little more than a hammock and a chair for furnishings. Two men stood
opposite him in front of the door - both staring. One was asking the
questions it seemed, but asking them in a language he could not understand.
The other was just translating, but he seemed equally interested in the

'I don't know. '

Those were the only words he could offer. He tried to come up with
something, but he couldn't. They asked him some other questions as well.
What happened to you? How did you end up in the water? He didn't have
answers. They told him he was on a boat that was bound for a place called
Shokono. They told him they had fished him out of the water, barely alive.
They told him a lot of other things as well. None of it made much sense to
him. When they told him that, like it or not, Shokono was where he was
getting off? That he understood well enough.

It had taken him a few more days of rest to gather the strength needed for
him to walk out onto the deck. Luckily for him the sky was clear and the
sun sat in the sky like a brilliant ball of light. All around him crewmen
scuttled about, and the boat swayed gently as it cut through the gentle
waves of the ocean. He took in a deep breath of the salty air and then
exhaled slowly. It seemed a perfectly lovely day, and he wondered if
somewhere in Shokono he would find the answers to the questions he had been

'You strong? You work. '

The words cut through the scuttle of the crew and the thoughts in his head.
He turned around and saw one of the questioners standing behind him. The
man flashed a broad smile, put a hand on his shoulder and lead him to where
he could get a bucket of water and a brush. The man briefly showed him how
to scrub the floor, then thrust the brush into his hands and walked away.
Something inside him felt like this work was demeaning and beneath him.
Something else inside him told him such thoughts were prideful and should be
cast aside. He somehow knew that he didn't have much choice.

As of this moment his whole world was this ship, this deck. Without any
hesitation he dropped down onto his knees and diligently began scrubbing.

Writer: Damerus

Date Thu Sep 17 02:27:34 2015

To All Arkane ( Imm RP Storyline )

Subject Odyssey: The Dock

The rope ladder leading down to the dock felt flimsy as he climbed down.
It was obvious to him that it was made for people much smaller than he and
he was mildly surprised he did not break it during the climb. It had taken
him a few days of being amongst the crew to realize that he was bigger than
all of them - much bigger. When he had done enough work to ingratiate
himself with them, he learned they had taken to calling him "Kyojin Rosuto"
in place of the name he couldn't give them. It took him until the day
before landfall to find out that it meant something like "Lost Giant" and
was as much a commentary on him as it was an identifier.

By the time his feet touched the dock, he had managed to acquire a pair of
boots without laces, some trousers that barely gave him a claim to modesty
and a poncho one of the crew members had helped him stitch together out of
ripped shirts. If they had fished him out of the water in any kind of
clothing, he never saw it and they never returned it.

He spent a few minutes trying to communicate with the harbor master - asking
for directions and asking if there was any work he could do. To both
questions the harbor master claimed not to speak common. Luckily for Kyojin
The same crewman who had helped him sew the poncho offered to take him into
town and even promised him work. Two things occurred to him then. The
first was that if he was going to live in this land he was going to need to
learn to communicate. The second was that he was incredibly lucky to have
met someone as generous as this man was claiming to be.

On the walk into town the crewman had told Kyojin that his name was Arata,
which meant "Fresh" in the native language - He didn't like the name.
Kyojin could sympathize, for his name had been chosen by strangers for the
sake of convenience. Arata told him that he had family who owned a shop and
they could use a man of his size to do All sorts of work. Kyojin didn't
care what the work was anyway, so long as it meant getting paid. He knew
that survival anywhere meant making money to get the things you need.
Things like food and clothes. What he really needed were answers, but
material needs seemed so much closer to reach.

'Here it is, Kyojin. '

The sounds of the bells and gongs emanating from the city almost seemed
melodic, and the unassuming city gate with the brightly painted carp was
inviting. Together with Arata, Kyojin strode into the city, curious as to
what he would find.

Writer: Damerus

Date Thu Sep 17 02:33:43 2015

To All Arkane ( Imm RP Storyline )

Subject Odyssey: The City

'Thank you! Have a nice day! Come back soon! '

In the months since Kyojin had first arrived in the city, he had managed to
learn how to understand what people were saying - for the most part. He
couldn't actually speak the language himself, but he understood. He was
fortunate in that common was a surprisingly, well, common language spoken
here and so many people could understand him as well. Arata had introduced
him to Sakana, who owned a small shop selling something they called "sushi"
which was basically fish. She was of middling age and she seemed courteous
enough if not pleasant. Fortunately she was one of the ones that understood

True to his word, Arata convinced Sakana to hire him on in the name of
charity. She set him to wiping down the long table that dominated the shop,
sweeping the floors and occasionally dealing with angry customers. It was
only two weeks back that Kyojin was watching Sakana work and had an
inclination that he too could make the cuts she was making. When given the
chance, Kyojin expertly mimicked her work, and he thought that he had
finally received his first clue regarding his former life.

Then two days prior he had gotten his first opportunity to test his knife
skills on other meat than fish. Sakana had managed to get hold of a pig and
together the two of them butchered it for meat. Sakana kept the majority of
it for herself and Arata - perhaps also to sell at the shop, but the rest
she shared with Kyojin as a token of thanks for his hard work. When he
returned to the little room he was renting and calling home, Kyojin could
not get the pig out of his mind. He thought maybe pigs had played some part
in the life he once lived, and he had an image in his mind of a pig farm.

He was confident in his thought that at one time he had been a butcher,
despite having only tested his knife skills on fish and pork. He could
clearly imagine the technique involved in butchering a number of animals and
he had a clear thought of him owning a shop and performing just such
services for people. He also became aware of his desire to have steak, and
though he had yet to eat such a thing in the months that he lived in
Shokono, he felt that it was probably his favorite food.

Answers were finally starting to come to him and he focused on them as he
lay on the floor of his room, hands pillowed under his head. Sleep did not
come easy that night and for the first time he had dreams so vivid he was
sure they were the true world, that his time in Shokono was the dream. He
could see the face of a middle-aged woman with fiery red hair and
mud-stained clothes. He could also feel the sting of a stick against his
wrists, as he failed to meet her expectations.

Writer: Damerus

Date Thu Sep 17 02:40:27 2015

To All Arkane Liviya ( Imm RP Storyline Religion )

Subject Odyssey: The Dream

He stood before a raven-haired woman with icy blue eyes. Her skin
managed to be more pale than his, and she wore the dark vestments of a
Priestess. Someone stood beside her, though Kyojin did not recognize them.
He thought this woman was a long time companion, yet a sense of dread filled
him as he stood there. As the stars seemed to fade from the night sky and
darkness enveloped the area, he knew something was going to happen, and he
knew it was something he had been anticipating through a long time of
knowing her.

Despite his anticipation, he quickly learned that his only defense had been
hope, and that was quickly shattered. A dark, wispy blade of ether appeared
in her hand and she struck. The blade slipped right through the chain armor
he seemed to be wearing and he could feel it punch into the flesh of his
shoulder. He was surprised by how little the blade seemed to hurt him, yet
still he felt himself growing weak. What shocked him was the sense that the
blade immediately began to borrow itself inside of him.

His legs began to feel watery and weak, and he collapsed to his knees.
There was a commotion going on around him now, but he was barely aware of
it. Somewhere in his mind he knew this was just a dream and he started
fighting desperately to be free of it. He felt the warmth of magical
healing and panic started to well inside him. The blade was still in his
flesh and healing would only trap it there! Even now he could feel the
flesh closing about the darkness that had been implanted inside him.


He awoke and immediately a hand lashed out to the shoulder in his dream as
he desperately clawed at the flesh. His palm was sweaty as he pawed at his
shoulder and he became acutely aware of the hammering in his chest from his
furiously pumping heart. He scrambled to his feet and moved to a nearby oil
lamp. With shaky hands he lit the wick and waited for a few moments before
the flame was strong enough to generate light.

Slowly he brought the lamp closer in to his chest and looked down to the
shoulder where he had been struck in the dream. He saw the scar that was
there - consistent with a piercing blade having struck his flesh. He also
saw the black and purple tendrils that snaked out from its epicenter like
veins, as well as the discoloration of the skin immediately around it, like
a bruise that never seems to go away.

Kyojin had been aware of the presence of that scar for along time now, yet
it was only tonight, thanks to that dream that he had any idea of how he
might have received it. Gently he lifted the lamp to his face, snuffed out
the flame with a large exhalation of breath, then sat down quietly,
surrounded by darkness ... And he waited for the dawn.

Writer: Damerus

Date Thu Sep 17 02:46:00 2015

To All Arkane Liviya ( Imm RP Storyline )

Subject Odyssey: The City II

In the months that followed the dream, Kyojin had talked to anyone that
would listen about it. He wanted to know more about the woman he saw, but
the way he described her didn't seem to illicit any answers. She was
obviously a westerner, and so was he. Naturally he spoke to many of the
sailors coming and going from the port but that didn't seem to help either.
He tried gathering any All gossip he could about the western kingdoms while
he was at it. Big or small, he hoped something might spark his remembrance,
but that was not the case.

When he wasn't working at the sushi shop, or visiting the dock, he was
spending more and more time at the temple. He began learning meditation
from the monks who tended the grounds, and he often prayed to the Lord of
Honor for guidance on how he might learn who he was. He prayed to any God
he thought might be listening at first, but the more he prayed the more he
felt there was only the one God he wanted to speak to.

Meditation helped him greatly. The more time he spent trying to clear his
mind, the more it seemed like the things that were hidden inside him found
ways of coming out. He saw the woman with the fiery red hair again, tending
to a pig farm. He saw people coming and going from a butcher's shop. He
saw an axe - made from arcanium, the weapon resembled a massive butcher's
cleaver. On one side of the blade he saw religious iconography from the
pantheon of light. On the other side he saw the symbol of Nadrik.

Day after day Kyojin kept up his new routine - work, visit the dock,
meditate at the temple, pray at the temple then go home. He kept writing
utensils that he purchased nearby and made a point of scrawling notes
whenever he either imagined something or heard something he thought might be
important to him. Night after night it seemed he had a new dream. More and
more it felt like those dreams were trying to tell him something about the
life he had once lived.

He saw the raven-haired woman in many of them. In one they sat in opposite
chairs and seemed to be talking. In another he held her in his arms as she
caressed his face. She even smiled at him during one, a genuinely happy
smile. Kyojin got an impression that such a sight was very rare, that he
was fortunate to see it. Then he finally had a dream that would open the
floodgates on nearly everything from his past and help him get back to being
who he always was.

Writer: Damerus
Date Thu Sep 17 02:55:02 2015

To All Arkane Liviya ( Imm RP Religion Storyline )

Subject Odyssey: The Dream II

He stood before a raven-haired woman with icy blue eyes. Her skin
managed to be more pale than his, and she wore the dark vestments of a
Priestess. She stood alone this time amidst the encroaching darkness, which
threatened to blot out the very stars themselves until All that remained was
the two of them. He could hear her voice All around but he could not make
out any words. The sound was like there was a thousand of her and they were
all speaking at once. Suddenly one of the voices cut through the rest and
began to sing.

'On a cool summers day, in the grass do I lay, beside the girl with the
flowery hair.

The woman opened her arms and reached out to him, beckoning him into her
embrace. He was torn by the urge to rush in and the desire to recoil from
her. He knew he loved her, but he also knew there was something more
keeping the two of them apart.

'Joy do I know, in the warmth and the glow, of the sunshine that we share.

Her voice was soft and lilting, the melody of the song was easy for Kyojin
to imagine. The lyrics moved him deeply and he felt like they were part of
him. The woman standing before him continued to hold her arms out to him,
silently waiting for his embrace. He could not shake his reservations, but
wearily took a step toward her.

'With her eyes on me, my soul she could see, unguarded for her to know. '

Suddenly he was no longer standing in front of the raven-haired woman, but
instead he stood before a full-length mirror. At first the mirror cast no
reflection and his anger quickly grew. He rushed forward and grabbed it by
its sides shaking it as if doing so would matter. A moment later a
reflection of the woman was cast into the mirror and a moment after that the
mirror was gone, replaced by her. His hands gripped the sides of her arms
and she smiled softly at him.

'Will she pay me in kind, Her trust to be mine? '

He did not even see her move. Her hand gripped the hilt of the ethereal
dagger and once again it was in his shoulder. It was as if she was frozen
in that moment, and what pain he remembered seemed amplified by the
emotional pain of betrayal. He tried to cry out his anguish, but there was
no sound here, save the sound of the song.

'Love we could grow, if the trust she will sow, this girl with the flowery

He fell to his knees and once again the woman was replaced by another
mirror. Again the mirror cast no reflection. This time however, the glass
slowly began to withdraw from the frame as though it were a door being
opened. Kyojin got to his feet and stepped through to find a room full of
broken mirrors. They All cast a version of his reflection, but none of them
were terribly clear. The one thing he could make out was a pair of deep,
piercing blue eyes
staring back at him.

'But the walls and the moat do castle her heart; to swim and to scale, that
love might prevail? These things, I do not know.

The song had reached its end, he knew - now it was beginning to fade. So
too did the room fade away. At its epicenter stood the woman once again.
Her arms were still outstretched, though this time he felt as if she were a
lifetime away from him. He could barely make out the soft smile on her
lips. Then he heard her voice one last time.

'I love you too, Damerus Firebeard. '

Writer: Nefastus

Date Thu Sep 17 22:49:21 2015

Writer: Ry'veleth

Date Sun Sep 20 07:20:24 2015

To Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom All ( Zandreya Imm RP )

Subject The Compass and the Dreams

The night was cool and calm, scattered clouds stretching long and thin
like great sea serpents in the inkiness of the sky. The stars were
brilliantly, their light dazzling as they twinkled and shimmered against
their velvet backdrop. The Red Moon, high and full, sat in a position of
honor within the heavens, its light seemingly cast directly upon the kingdom
of Shalonesti, and upon the Aurora Borealis. Only a few days away, the
Autumnal Equinox was already announcing its presence within the realms of
the elves - leaves were beginning to don their brilliant colors, and mists
rolled in off the sea, rivers and lakes. On this particular night, the air
was chill enough that those elves on watch and at their posts could see
their breath dance and swirl in the light of the magical orbs and celestial

It was near the early hour of one candlemark past the midnight hour that
Ry'veleth awoke in a cold sweat, her heart pounding in her chest. She threw
the covers away from her body and swung her bare feet to the floor, standing
up and moving away from the bed. Over the past week, Ry'veleth had taken to
sleeping on the Aurora Borealis, in the Sailmaker's quarters, to be exact.
As she moved blindly, her eyes seeing, but her mind still trapped within her
dreams, she grabbed her sword and put her back to a wall, pointing the
lethal tip out toward the room. Moments passed, and nothing happened - the
ship continued to rock in the harbor waters, and the wind whispered
soothingly against the hull while the elven light crystals filled the room
with gentle ambience. Nothing was there. Her mind slowly surfaced from the
depths of her dreams and she looked about with the sharp eyes of a sailor
who has served their fair share in raging storm and dead of night. Nothing
out of place. All as it should be.

With a sigh, the sailor returned her sword to its sheath, leaned it against
the wall and returned to the bed, sitting down lightly upon the edge. She
reached into her pack, strung from the post, and withdrew a small item that
she had wrapped in silk and leather. Unwrapping it, Ry'veleth cupped the
cork compass in her hands, watching the needle sway, then settle. It was
such a simple gift, the compass, but even nearly two weeks later, the sight
of it still brought tears to her eyes. She could barely understand how
Drondon had been willing to part with such a precious item, had been willing
to grant her, a perfect stranger, a precious momento from a dear friend.
That the compass had belonged to Josiuh meant the world to hear - and she
still did not understand why.

The elf haunted her dreams, or at least she thought it was him. Whenever
she would work herself into exhaustion, the dreams were the most vivid. The
Seasong, as she had begun to call it, would come first. Then, flickers of
gold and silver, the sound of a metal upon metal. The image would clear and
she would see a figure, tall and lean, garbed in umber and gold. At first,
she thought they were dancing - their movements were graceful, fluid like
the flow of a river, and powerful and quick, like the sudden lightning of a
storm. After a while, she realized the figure was fighting, fending off
foes she could not see.

Tonight, what had woken her was something she could not remember, but it
had startled her enough. Knowing she would never get back to sleep,
Ry'veleth decided she may as well get to work. She put the compass away
with All the care it deserved, then bathed and dressed. She ate lightly,
and then moved to her work station, intending to spend a few hours creating
a new sail that would serve as a backup. As she fed the thick needle
through the canvas, she thought of Elrei. His kindness had guided her this
far - perhaps it was time to write to him once more.

Writer: Ashbie
Date Sun Sep 20 20:30:41 2015

To Verminasia Marcaus All Roleplay Immortal

Subject KWARS The Fist in the Shadowed Veil

The sound of waves crashing against the shore could be heard in the
distance. However, the water in Verminasia's Shadowed Entrance to the
Sea was remarkably calm. It was as though some enchantment lay upon
the water. For All Ashbie knew, there likely was. The area, though open
to the ocean, was aptly named for the clouds of billowing mist that
rolled perpetually across the placid waters of the harbor.

Ashbie looked over to the ships docked near her. The Requiem floated
like a fortress upon the water. Massive might have even been an
understatement to describe Verminasia's flagship. Beside it rested the
Nocturne. Considerably smaller, the Nocturne was still a large ship
by All accounts. It streamlined frame gave it incredibly manoeuvrability
that made it nearly peerless as a ship of war.

Then, almost set apart from the other two ships, there was the Aria.
By far Ashbie's most favorite ship, it was a vessel that she had
personally designed and had the funds raised for. It was a vessel
unmatched by any in its speed and litheness. The Aria was designed for
the distinct purpose of scouting and gathering intelligence on the
open waters of Algoron's oceans and its narrow rivers alike.

There were numerous other ships in the harbor. Some of them were trading
vessels, but many of them were Verminasia's other, lesser-known war
ships. All-in-all, it was a harbor ideally suited to protecting
Verminasia's Arkanian coastline.

Something notable was missing, however.

A hodgepodge of squat stone buildings, rickety lean-to's and other
buildings made up Verminasia's harbor coastline. It was as far from
grand as one could possibly imagine. It was no wonder that the King
had wanted a harbor fortress built for so long. Now, however, it
appeared as if that would actually begin.

Ashbie had only just delivered the orders that All tenants of the land
were to reloacte within the week. In her hand, she held orders for the
sailors stationed at the harbor to begin relocating Verminasia's large
store of supplies to a temporary location pending the construction of
the new fortress.

Pursing her lips, Ashbie continued to gaze at the space that would soon
be dominated by Verminasia's newest structure. It was difficult to see,
for the moment, but it would certainly be an impressive sight once it was
built. A tall, two-hundred foot light-house was in the plans to be built.
It was to use magical light that would cut through the fog when needed,
but could be dimmed immediately when discretion was required.

Ashbie rubbed her cheek and turned back to the harbor. She walked across
the dark docks that littered the bay, wandering aimlessly. Everyone she
passed saluted or, at the very least, tipped their heads in respect. Once,
she had been but a small child, playing games with her twin brother on
the docks. It had seemed a much larger, more majestic place at the time.

Verminasia's harbor had lost some of that distinctive sheen in her mind's
eye. She was Ashbie Tenneal. A Picard-Oneiroi. Captain of a pirate ship.
Admiral of Verminasia's Crimson Armada. Former General. Viscountess of
Sacnoth. She had become a legend in her own right. The fairytales that
she and Randal had spun about the docks in their youth had faded in the
passing time.

The fortress would breathe new life into the harbor. Verminasia's docks
would again be the shining, glorious monument to strength that it should
have been. Envy of Algoron, the fist of Verminasia's Armada, visible to
all of the world.

The time had come.

Writer: Tanaal
Date Mon Sep 21 00:02:41 2015

To All Abaddon Kyeffe Vershae Simani Necrucifer Imm RP Religion

Subject Spellbound (Part 1): Deafening Silence

Was it successful?

Tanaal mulled that question obsessively as he finished the ritual. He did
everything he knew to bring about the desired outcome.

"... In Necrucifer's name, power, and glory..." Tanaal intoned, "... And
in Darkness bind my power as a falcon is bound to the sky...!"

Tanaal raised his hands skyward. He felt nothing. No divine presence, no
tingling in the back of the neck, no rush of adrenaline, not even a twitch
of his ear from a distant noise. The dead, as far as Tanaal was concerned
for that moment, make more noise decomposing.

The silence was unnerving. Tanaal lowered his hands, an peered about,
surveying his ritual space. He heard the throbbing of his own heart from
inside his head, and the piddle of a drop of sweat hitting the stone floor.
His heartbeat began to race in frustration from his perceived blunder. He
thought he had everything correct! An improved affinity for magic should
have been bestowed upon him by now!

Writer: Tanaal

Date Mon Sep 21 00:06:41 2015

To All Abaddon Kyeffe ershae Necrucifer Imm RP Religion

Subject Spellbound (Part 2): Calculated Consistency

"A vessel of endless blood..." Tanaal muttered, casually pointing to
the enchanted chalice on the altar, imbued with the magic typical of
bottomless decanters issued by municipal priests. Kyeffe's assistance in
supplying Tanaal with the blood supply to fill the chalice earned Kyeffe a
place in Tanaal's "list of people NOT to kill" that he kept with him at all
times. There was no doubting the supply of blood was ample, as it was
endless once it entered the chalice. He continued enumerating his
materials, mumbling them out by name in an obsessive habit of counting
typical of other mathematicians...

"A product of my labors..." Tanaal picked up the iron skain, used as a
ritual athame, regarded it, and placed it back down. His brow furrowed and
grew more tense with each passing moment. What went wrong?

"A source of magic..." Tanaal tapped his fingertip on his favorite wand of
magic missiles. Surely, this was a legitimate source of magic, he thought,
recalling how he had used it but a week ago to wreak vengeance on delegates
from the Board of Reagents from the University of Althainia. No doubts
here, this element also went correctly.

"A bone from one whom I subdued..." Tanaal patted his palm atop the
cranium of the picked-dry skull of the delegate he decapitated in the
university library. He kept it as a trophy, a reminder that no matter who
spoke ill of him, he would always conquer adversity in the end. There was
no contesting the validity of that element.

Why did he feel nothing...?

Writer: Tanaal

Date Mon Sep 21 00:13:09 2015

To All Abaddon Kyeffe Vershae Simani Necrucifer Imm RP Religion

Subject Spellbound (Part 3): And So It Is Written

Tanaal turned about, observing the runework and symbols he had written on
the floor in blood from his chalice. "The circle is near perfect. I
measured the secants and tangents myself...!" He lamented, seeing the
triangles and measures numbered and measured in blood-stained chalk on the
ground, noting the effort put into the measures of geometry to produce the

Tanaal craned his neck to glance at his handwriting of the runework, written
as well in blood on the ground. "I used Shalonesti dialect on purpose to
profane then. Surely, the Dark Father would recognize this...?" Again and
again, Tanaal surveyed the scene, counting and recounting until the only
feeling he had was a creeping sense of dejection. Was he deemed unworthy?

The floor thudded as Tanaal fell to his knees, resting his head on his arms
on the altar. All the steps were correct! The effort was rendered and
consistent, and the measures were precise! He lifted his head, sniffling to
choke back the frustration that was overtaking him.

His eyes then saw.

"GAAHAAAAH!!" Tanaal shrieked in fright, leaping backward from the altar
as across from it, he saw a dark hooded figure, extremely tall in stature,
floating toward him. He's had his share of encounters in the past, but none
actually went so far as to have a presence that made candle light turn pitch
black and visible, or fill the air with a chill of terror despite the warm
humidity making Tanaal's brow sweat. Only one could have a presence such as

Tanaal blinked, and at once, the figure was gone, and the candle was back to
it's quiet, orange glow. He saw that he was alone again, but the feeling of
that dark presence persisted...

Writer: Aethelwine

Date Mon Sep 21 00:18:41 2015

Writer: Tanaal

Date Mon Sep 21 03:25:38 2015

To All Abaddon Aethelwine Damion Chlaus RP Imm Devion Religion

Subject Sweet as Honey: Tanaal's Journey (Part 1)

Tanaal's boots trudged up and over the dunes. He could feel his calves
stiffening from having to keep a straight footing over the loose sands. He
had been wandering the desert for hours, following the southern trade road
to find the anthill for Abaddon. What would the Blood Kingdom want with an
ant mound in the middle of the desert? As much as Tanaal wanted answers, he
knew better than to question the order. He knew even better what it would
mean if he outrightedly failed.

Deathwish. Suicide. Folly. Various words described how Tanaal felt when
he was given the order to navigate the deserts of New Thalos and
successfully find a path back. Was this some sort of sick joke? He knew
that those who follow Devion take pride in their pranks, but surely this had
to have been a step too far. At least, so Tanaal thought.

"Think of the GLORY!" Tanaal thought, "Think of how they would esteem me
as one who navigated in and back!"

Tanaal heard a crunch under his foot, and looked down. He noted the
off-cream ichor of a squished ant under his boot. He had finally reached
the anthill.

Writer: Tanaal

Date Mon Sep 21 03:28:12 2015

To All Abaddon Aethelwine Damion Chlaus RP Imm Devion Religion

Subject Sweet as Honey: Tanaal's Journey (Part 2)

Finally having reached the anthill, Tanaal rubbed his face, pushing the
sweat away from his forhead as rivulets poured from his brow. The ants
would scamper and tap at the wet spots on the sand with their antennae,
sensing at once that moisture fell to their sands, with some even scooping
and rolling the clumped, moistened sand specks into their nest to hoard what
precious water they could.

Peering around, he lamented how to get back. The air was so hot, that the
dunes themselves seemed to dance in and out of place.

"I'm a mathematician, gods damn it, and I will SOLVE my way out of this!"
Tanaal muttered through gritted teeth, determined to show his superior
ability through the best way he knew how. Taking a wand from his holster,
he started inscribing numbers into the sand. As the minutes passed, a
matrix of numbers were written in the sand, telling Tanaal his chances of
finding his way out.

He had none.

Writer: Tanaal
Date Mon Sep 21 03:32:51 2015

To All Abaddon Aethelwine Damion Chlaus RP Imm Devion Religion

Subject Sweet as Honey: Tanaal's Journey (Part 3)

Tanaal knew that if he began to panic, he would lose precious water. His
supply was low, and he needed to quickly find a solution.

He slapped his own forehead. "... The ritual worked. I can create
now." With a flicker of will, and a gripping motion in the air, a small
rumble erupted from the ground. The sand by Tanaal's feet began to darken,
and water seeped upwards into a puddle.

"I have it!"

Tanaal scooped up a few handfuls of water and drank, nearly choking on the
water from the gleeful laughter he had coming from his lips. He would find
his way out by making a trail of tiny oases to mark his path. So simple!

With a grunt, Tanaal flexed his arm, extending the seeping spring to
continue in a given direction, giving him a trail line to orient himself.
Success would be his, and so too would be the chance to impress his

Writer: Andreyna

Date Mon Sep 21 23:37:36 2015

To All Laendyn Tief Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Zandreya Zypher Imm Rp Religion

Subject The Path of Neutrality

The fragrance of burning incense floated around Andreyna, the aroma
soothing her, relaxing her. The elf sat comfortably upon a couple of the
plush pillows that were scattered about the Priest's Guild within
Shalonesti, meditating and praying to the Mother of the elves, the Mother of

Day after day the Deacon came to the guild to pray, to meditate, to think on
her decision to embrace the balance. Andreyna had been born into a family
of shalonesti elves who followed the path of the light. Naturally, she was
taught to do the same. It had become comfortable to her. After marrying
Laendyn Shalonost, becoming Queen of the Elves, and becoming a priestess of
the Lady Zandreya, the comfort she had once felt walking within the light
began to fade. She could feel the balance calling to her.

As Queen of the elves she stood with her husband, the Speaker of the Stars,
in striving to lead Shalonesti as a neutral kingdom. As it rightfully
should be. For so long, many associated Shalonesti with the light. Now,
not only were Althainians permitted to walk the streets of Shalonesti, but
so were the Verminasians and Darkonians. Aside from their natural enemies,
all walks of life were allowed to enjoy the Vallens.

These decisions to stand firm that Shalonesti was a neutral kingdom began
making Andreyna think of her own personal path with the Mother. She yearned
to be closer to the Lady Zandreya, to be a good example for Her chosen, and
Her faithful. The Mother accepted All walks of life, one of the few who
did. However, She was the Mother of nature, a keeper of the balance.
Andreyna was reminded of this every time she spoke of Zandreya, prayed to
Her, fought for Shalonesti's neutral stance in the realms. She could see
the path of balance ahead of her, it was time that she walked upon it. Like
the Vallens, Andreyna would take a stance of neutrality within the realms.

As if reading her mind, Laendyn came to Andreyna expressing his desire to
shed his golden aura to bear none. The Deacon could not be happier, could
not be more relieved. Her lifemate had felt the same as she, that both the
light and the darkness had a place in this world. That nature was an
intricate example of such. They both believed that the Mother was a keeper
of the balance and to walk upon the neutral path would bring them closer to
Her, that they could better serve Her, be a better representation of the
Vallens. Together they would strive to reach that path, to embrace the
light and the dark, to aid in keeping the balance, if it be the Mother's

Andreyna closed her eyes, murmuring softly in Elvish a prayer to the Mother
thanking Her, honoring Her, asking Her for guidance, for acceptance of
herself and Laendyn upon the Mother's path of neutrality.

Writer: Trihp

Date Tue Sep 22 12:18:28 2015

To All Edyssa Eszka Fynix Meki Kaladon AWG Arkane Dragons Imms *RP*

Subject Of Feather, Fur, Scale, and Blood *P1*

An eerie stillness settled over the small carriage. Small scrapes and
cuts stung on the baby Ariels arms and legs. He tried to settle his
panicked breathing, but Trihp Aureus knew the Red Dragon was close. He
could still see its snapping jaws, smells its flaming breath. He had made a
mistake leaving Arkane. In the last few weeks he had limited his trips
outside of the kingdom walls. He knew the beast had been hunting him, as he
had curiously done for months. Knowing now the full potential, the true
danger of the firstborn he didnt wish to end up its dinner. That was till
hed found the fur in his nest north of Arkane.

Slowly Trihps chubby fingers pulled back the red drapes of the tiny
carriage. This was one of his favorite hiding spots. No one had ever found
him here, no one that was until he pulled back the fabric and a gleaming
yellow eye looked back at him. The scaled snout of the Baby Red Dragon
snorted smoke into the forest clearing sky.


Alogorons afternoon sun hammered down on the forest, casting long beams of
light through the green lush canopy. He could still see the walls of
Arkane, and it brought him a little comfort. Hed never been afraid to fly
high, and leave his home. That was until hed met the Red Dragon face to
face, and realized how powerless he would be to fight the creature.
Flapping his powerful wings, he darted as close to the protection of the
tree tops, keeping as quiet as possible with each beat of his feathered
wings. Dangling from his hands his dirty bear, and an elf doll, rested from
their AWG style battles that hed gone to watch the last couple of nights.
He had been captivated by the bravest of Algoron, the powerful, the deadly
games that played out as the stands would errupt with cheering. He liked
the idea, to be famous like that.

Hed checked the nest, whomever had been sleeping there from time to time,
had not spent the night there last evening. It had become tradition to find
soft brindled grey fur in what had once been his own private retreat. That
was until he came to realize he wasnt the only one taking cat naps there.
Quietly, Trihp found a perch in one of the higher tree branches. If this
thing was spending time in the nest, it made sense that it might also be
living in the forest near Arkane. His mind wondered at what it might be,
imagined child like images of half Ariel, half furry wemics danced in his
mind. He pouted his ruby red bottom lip wishing Kaladon hadnt gotten his
hands on the fur, he liked having the soft strands with him when he hunted.

Simmering gold eyes, inspected the world with a keen gaze. If the creature
was in these woods he would find it. A trickling stream caught his
attention, it was the only noise in the forest, and had he not been so
distracted that alone might have been enough to worry him. Something
shifted in the shadows, he could just make out the dark shape of it. His
heart began to beat faster, his mind on fire for him to get closer, to get a
better look at it. As quiet as he could, the young Ariel beat his wings to
move his chubby body down closer to the stream. There she was, a small
figure, a girl, she couldnt have been more then two years older then him.
The babys molten gold eyes bubbled with excitement seeing the long furry
tail of the girl. She was hunched down next to the stream, was she
drinking? Was she fishing?! A snap of a twig as his wing brushed past it,
echoed into the forest, and before he regained his attention to the stream
the felar was gone. Not a sound, like a phantom that had never been, she
had vanished.

Writer: Trihp

Date Tue Sep 22 12:22:26 2015

To All Edyssa Eszka Fynix Meki Kaladon AWG Arkane Dragons Imms *RP*

Subject Of Feather, Fur, Scale, and Blood *P2*

Trihp cursed his luck, scolding his dirty bear, incase he might have had
something to do with it. A cracking of another branch in the distance
replied to the sound he had made. Trihp froze, his blood going cold. This
sound had been much louder then the one he had made, and then All at once
was joined by the thundering call of more trees being shredded. All at once
it came into view, blowing red hot flames from its nostrils. Again the Red
Dragon had doubled in size, it was nearly the size of a small hut.

Pulling his dolls in close, he scrambled and beat his wings, climbing higher
in the trees, he needed to make it out of the canopy, he could get much
faster speeds in the open skies of Algoron. He could feel it gaining on
him, he could not hope to out run a dragon. Instinctive magic vanished him
from normal sight, even without realizing hed done so. He climbed, he could
not feel the warmth of the creatures breath yards away. He climbed, he
could see the bright blue of the sky, oh how he wished his diaper was
lighter! He climbed until at last he dashed up and out of the forest, and
he was followed within moments by the growling angry roars of the baby red.
The two launched up into the bright blue world above the ground, and Trihp
beat his wings nearly crying from the fear that grabbed him into a primitive
state of panic, survival was All that mattered.


Hed been hiding for hours, he knew it was night outside. He couldnt even
remember how he had made it to his hiding spot in the carriage. Now with
the curtain open, with the Red Dragon staring inside, he knew he was out of
places to hide. He knew that the beast could set the whole thing on fire,
or his giant claws could shred the hole thing and rip his baby body from it
for a quick snack. The monster of his nightmares neared, each step a
echoing thump that smashed through the forest. Trihps tiny bottom lip
quivered. Fear, such as he had never felt. This was what he saw in the
firstborn, this is what they meant to him. They stripped away the carefree,
they took away that belief that you were strong, that nothing could hurt
you. Trihp was learning in this world he lived, in Algoron there was always
something bigger, stronger. Something that people needed to be protected
from, something that he needed to be protected from.

Its breath so hot, hit the carriage, the curtain fabric smoking as small
sparks of flame started to ignite and glow red hot. He was caught, there
was no where else to go, he would not even make it to see his first
birthday. The Ariel inhaled sharply, bringing as much air into his lungs as
he could. He imagined every shiny blue diamond he had in his collection,
each loving jeweled egg that he cherished like his parents did a good lover.
He imagined Meki, Kaladon, Eszka his mother, Fynix his father, the kender of
Arkane. He imagined the warriors of the AWG, his shoulders shook as his
lungs could take in nothing more.

EEEEEEEEEEEKAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNEEEEEEE The screeching scream of the baby Ariel
ripped out first the side of the carriage, splintering the wood, and sending
an explosion of force out toward the peeking eye of the firstborn. Trihp
could see blood in the beasts eye, a long jagged wound on the right side of
its face. It lifted its head roaring up and out of the clearing. Trihp saw
his chance, in the chaos of what had happen, he launched his wings into
flight and raced, he raced and raced, till he could see the houses of
Arkane, he raced until he could see his home, he could see the balcony of
Fynixs bedroom. He raced until he came smash down on that balcony. Even
then, his heart and mind continued to race All through the night...

Writer: Shiyou

Date Tue Sep 22 22:46:43 2015

To All Shalonesti_Kingdom Reick Arashitaka Uruvion Lilim Alisyi Zandreya Immortal (RP)

Subject Patrol of the Vallenwoods

"Shiyou Sha'falas, Guardsman, Espionage Specialist."

The words formed a mantra as freezing cold water splashed down on the young
man's back, raising goosebumps on his pale skins and making his body shiver
painfully. His teeth clattered as he continued to speak the words, reciting
them aloud to better reinforce them in his head. His thoughts were a
convoluted, confusing, jumbled mess. Thoughts he'd never used, thoughts
he'd been warned about having, were swarming around his brain. She'd done
this to him. Her questions and her orders had cracked down his rigid
control, leaving him unable to think clearly. Yet the fault wasn't hers.
Couldn't be hers. And thus, the fault must lie with Shiyou himself.

Shalonesti must be protected. Zandreya blesses the elven people. Only
those pure of blood may rule. Emotion can cloud your judgement. Those
with human blood are not equal to pureblooded elves. Do not think, obey.
Attachments are dangerous. If necessary, you must sacrifice your life.
These thoughts and others buzzed around inside of his brain, fighting one
another as his head continued to ache from the conflicting nature of it all.

In sharp contrast to his head, his heart was simple and straightforward in
what was wrong. It hurt. It ached in a way that made him want to simply
reach into his chest and tear it out.

Climbing out of the waterfall where he'd been showering, Shiyou shook like a
dog as he crawled into the forest glade and found his things, hidden under
the roots of a nearby Vallenwood tree. His mantra repeated more quietly, a
murmur to guide his thoughts as he dressed and armed himself, vanishing into
the woodwork to continue his patrol of the Shalonesti border. Technically,
he wasn't scheduled for patrol this far out, but House Sha'falas allowed its
members some autonomy in their day-to-day activities, and at the moment,
Shiyou found he couldn't remain in the city. He kept making mistakes, kept
failing to protect Shalonesti citizens. Better to stay away and patrol the
forests instead.

And if he should encounter enemies, he would engage. If he died to the
enemies of Shalonesti... then All of his problems would be solved.

Tensing his legs, Shiyou pushed off, leaping from tree branch to tree
branch, green cloak billowing around his shoulders as he artfully spin in
mid-air, kicking off another tree trunk and All but flying through the air
on his patrol route. Listening to the rustle of the leaves proved a calming
effect, reminding Shiyou of his duty. Protect the Shalonesti. Things were
simpler when he focused on his duty. And right now, that may well have been
all he had left. The ache in his heart did not stop, but it seemed to ease
just a little as he kept his focus on his work.

Writer: Amyth'lynn

Date Wed Sep 23 20:08:52 2015

Writer: Dylan

Date Wed Sep 23 21:58:22 2015

Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Sep 24 00:00:28 2015

Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Sep 24 00:21:06 2015

Writer: Damerus

Date Thu Sep 24 00:57:24 2015

To All Arkane Vys ( Imm RP Religion Storyline )

Subject Old Wounds

'Rest Damerus... Please. Do not do anything hasty. '

There was no rest to be had though, not right now. His mind was racing and
his anger growing. The chamber was as cold as the grave but he might as
well have been on the sun for how hot his blood ran. His mind's eye was
cycling through All the things he had remembered. If anything had remained
lost upon his return, tonight it had come back to him like a slap in the

He could see again her lifeless eyes, staring up at him in death. He could
feel again the dirt in his hand as he scraped away at the earth. He didn't
have a shovel with him, for in his grief he had not thought to bring one,
but it had to be done and so with his bare hands he patiently dug. In the
performance it had been said to be a story of the lost princess of Wood, but
one of the spectators knew exactly where she was, because he could recall
the soul-wrenching agony of throwing the dirt over her as he laid her to

Now he was on his knees in the place of her final rest where, alongside her
mother, came the source of All the grief he had spent many of his years
trying to overcome. If ever there was a reason to give up living, for
Damerus that reason would be found here amongst the bones of lost loved
ones. Of course he would not, could not even, but the pain of this wound
was once again fresh, opened anew thanks to a simple performance. The hurt
had even been magnified to see how well received was the telling. He had no
doubt that to many it a folktale-like story, brought to life by magic some
would find pretty. For him it was the most painful of realities.

'It was a glorious offering to my Master. '

Those had been the Bishop's word to him as if they should provide some form
of solace. They only fed his pain and by extension his anger. Until
tonight he had never heard any kind of story to explain what had happened to
his little girl, his princess. The thought of this story being true only
made everything that much worse.

He cast his gaze upward at the stained glass on the northern wall of the
Mausoleum. Moonlight shot through and bathed him with its pale
illumination. He could clearly see the symbols of both Zandreya and Kwainin
in the glass and as stared up he recalled the name that been given to him.
Ethigrax. He began quietly chanting it under his breath, committing it to
his memory. If there was truth to any of this, his intention was to find
out. The words of an old friend fluttered past the back of his mind.

'Do not go down that path. '

How could he not though? Nobody that had not suffered what he had suffered
knew what it was like. Nobody that had not suffered what he had suffered
could understand the depths of his agony. He needed to know. He needed
answers and if the Gods willing, needed some kind of justice, or closure,
whatever he could get. There was no path he wouldn't walk to have that.
And so under his breath he continued to quietly chant.

Ethigrax. Ethigrax. Ethigrax.

Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Sep 24 06:59:10 2015

Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Sep 24 06:59:20 2015

Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Sep 24 06:59:32 2015

Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Sep 24 06:59:39 2015

Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Sep 24 06:59:45 2015

Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Sep 24 06:59:53 2015

Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Sep 24 07:00:02 2015

Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Sep 24 07:00:09 2015

Writer: Kaladon

Date Thu Sep 24 07:00:37 2015

Writer: Elrei

Date Thu Sep 24 10:14:38 2015

To All Hestia Taliena ( Imm RP )

Subject Not long at all...

Alone in his self-enforced (though again, arguably not self-imposed)
solitude, Elrei was left with his thoughts. In a mind such as his, that was
never a simple or peaceful thing.

Today, his mind was practicing blasphemy - drawing correlations between
himself and the Goddess, based on a memory of one of Her visits in his
youth. He had revisited this memory many times over, but never for quite
this reason. She had asked him, "I wonder, shall you remember me, should I
leave you for some time? Or, as many, is your faith fed on interaction..."

The lack of letters to his doorstep should have come as no surprise. If
the Goddess Herself was so easily forgotten when She was not easily and
readily seen, what hope had he of having any greater effect? It was an
unfair test of those friendships he had held, Elrei now realized. Another
failure, on his part.

His mind wandered further in the memory, coming across Her directive to
find a woman, "one of lowly origin. One whom is plain. One whom others
pass by," and to give that woman a rose and the knowledge that Taliena
overlooks none. It was a test, as well, one he had gained a friendship
through, but one that, looking back now, he realized he still failed despite
handing over the flower. He could forgive himself somewhat, because of his
youth and exuberance in attempting to follow the directions of his Goddess,
but he had been blinded by the societal norms of the Vallens.

The truth was, none were of lowly origin - the origin of All things lay
with the Gods. None were plain, either, as each individual was a unique
variation - if you did not see their uniqueness, if you did not see what it
was which made them worthy of love, then you needed to look closer. The
rose should never have been given, as none should have been found to fit
that description.

He had known this for some time now, had been living it as he knew how,
but this was the first time he'd managed to put it plainly. For whatever
reason, he had to walk his path to this point to understand, despite the
knowledge being presented so long ago. As a historian, this was
frustrating. The purpose of learning history was to learn from the mistakes
of others, yet if nothing could be truly learned and internalized until it
had been experienced personally, what was the benefit? To know that others
had been, had tried with varying levels of success to accomplish the same
things you have attempted? It was not a comforting thought, really, to
realize that despite the ages and ambitions, the world was still caught in
an endless loop of self-discovery, self-improvement, and self-annihilation,
with no apparent shift in the starting point, no seeming improvement in
standing with each cycle.

Elrei's "Path of the Divine Heart," the five pillars of compassionate
living which he had composed as a sort of companion to the candle-scribed
Tenets, stated that one should seek self-improvement from a state of
self-love and self-respect. It followed, then, that if the world saw no
improvement from its repeated attempts, then it was not seeking it from that
state - which made sense, given the disparate peoples and means in use, not
to mention the disparity in ideals which gave very different ideas as to
what was considered "improvement." For the world to improve, then, it would
have to learn to love itself.

"Well, that shouldn't take long," Elrei mused. "Only forever."

Writer: Py'nan

Date Thu Sep 24 14:31:38 2015

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



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