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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

Gorrakh's Demise
Tales of the Black Rose Part I: A side tale from "Night at the Museum, Part V"
Tales of the Black Rose Part II: A side tale from "Night at the Museum, Part V"
Tales of the Black Rose Part III: A side tale from "Night at the Museum, Part V
Tales of the Black Rose Part IV: A side tale from "Night at the Museum, Part V"
Tales of the Black Rose Part V: A side tale from "Night at the Museum, Part V"
A day's study ( Part 1 )
A day's study ( Part 2 )
Liberations: March of the Smallest Feet I
Hunting Traitors - Traitors at Home
|A| Chefs and Bakers and Cooks, Oh My |A|
Far away from home ( Part 1 )
The pursuit of the untamed Pt. 1
Capturing the Witch
The Witches Trial
Powerful Banned Alterations
The Alteration's True Form
Powerful Magic Breeds Powerful Consequence
A Fateful Encounter
A new path begins (I)
Liberations: March of the Smallest Feet II
Liberations: March of the Smallest Feet III
A Ghost in the Night 01
(Underhanded) Part I
(Underhanded) Part II
(Underhanded) Part III
(Underhanded) Part IV
Atonement Pains
Far away from home ( Part 2 )
A Fine Meal (---PART ONE---)
A Fine Meal (---PART TWO---)
A Fine Meal (---PART THREE---)
A Fine Meal (---PART FOUR---)
A Fine Meal (---PART FIVE---)
A Fine Meal (---PART SIX---)
A Fine Meal (---PART SEVEN---)
A Fine Meal (---PART EIGHT---)
A Fine Meal (---PART NINE---)
A Fine Meal (---PART TEN---)
A Fine Meal (---PART ELEVEN---)
A Fine Meal (---PART TWELVE---)
A Venture Home
Far away from home ( Part 3 )
Into the Mill
Hunting Traitors - Traitors in the Provences ( Heading Out )
Hunting Traitors - Traitors in the Provences ( The Night Before )
Boredom and its Consequences
Consequences of Boredom
X Beautiful Burning X
Not Alone: At Long Last
Boredom
The Winds of Change
Making A Monster I
Making A Monster II
Making A Monster III
A Ghost in the Night 02
Sea Legs (part one)
Sea Legs (part two)
Sea Legs (part three)
Sea Legs (part four)
Sea Legs (part five)
Sea Legs (part six)
Sea Legs (part seven)
Sea Legs (part eight)
Sea Legs (part nine)
Sea Legs (part ten)
Sea Legs (part eleven)
Hunting Traitors - First Command (Part 1)
Hunting Traitors - Frist Command (Part 2)
"Raise Yer Mugs" - a drinking song by Fender Mallet
Planting festival (pert one)
Planting festival (part two)
**T'pal Mal** (Part one)
**T'pal Mal** (Part two)
**T'pal Mal** (Part three)
**T'pal Mal** (Part four)
**T'pal Mal** (Part five)
Hunting Traitors - The Arrival (Part 1)
Hunting Traitors - The Arrival (Part 2)
**T'pal Mal** (Part six)
**T'pal Mal** (Part seven)
**T'pal Mal** (Part eight)
**T'pal Mal** (Part nine)
**T'pal Mal** (Part ten)
**T'pal Mal** (Part eleven)
**T'pal Mal** (Part twelve)
**T'pal Mal** (Part thirteen)
**T'pal Mal** (Part fourteen)
Hunting Traitors - Street Brawl (Part 1)
Hunting Traitors - Street Brawl (Part 2)
Pursuit of Faith (Part One)
Pursuit of Faith (Part Two)
Pursuit of Faith (Part Three)
X Queenside Tournament X
Hunting Traitors - First Command (Part 3)
News on Drobsek
Hunting Traitors - First Command (Part 4)
News and Truth
|A| Air Patrol |A|
Darkness and Despair
The Torment of Arkane I
Reports of the Missing
Recovering the Missing
"Gotta start somewhere."
Hope shines in the Darkness.
War in the Temple of Love
Victory will be at any cost.
X Darkness Descending X
Entities of Sin Part 2: Cracked Shield and Shinalstin
Claws in the Dark (VIII)
To Apprehend a Traitor - The Capture (Part 1)
Entities of Sin Part 3: Vigil
Entities of Sin Part 4: Shinalstin Catacombs
Blinded by Greed
Into the Abyss Part 1: Sloth and the Temple of Devion
Into the Abyss Part 2: Sloth and the Temple of Devion
Nightmares and Racing Thoughts
Seven Sins - Darkness
Seven Sins - Nightmares





Writer: Gorrakh
Date Thu Feb 23 11:02:28 2017

To All Justice Imm RP

Subject Gorrakh's Demise



A muffled cry for help could be heard coming from the caves to the north.

From behind the tiny bush, Gorrakh stirred, showing himself to All of the
enemies present. As they began to utter unintelligible words, preparing
their offensive spells, the half-ogre ran across the road, laying into one
of the smaller mages with All of his might. Attack after attack thrown at
the slender sorcerer wearing red robes, and attack after attack missing.
His efforts had no effect on the mage, and the spell was completed.

All protective and enhancement spells had been stripped. Gorrakh knew he
had to get away, and quickly. The other mages, including one or two he
could not see, had begun their own onslaught. Gorrakh tore away from the
crowd, acid dripping from his clothing and lightning still crackling in his
hair. He found himself north of the fray, heading toward the caves.

He looked back and saw a stocky figure coming fast behind him. Covered in
platemail, with two large axes that were looking for a half-ogre skull to
cleave. The bandit pushed forward into the cave, deeper and deeper until
the light from the entrance had faded from view and only the glimmer of a
ray of hope could be seen.

He extinguished his single light source and hid behind a large stalagmite in
the complete darkness. The sound of plate armor banging against itself
could be heard coming closer and closer as light began to fill the cavern
once more. Dwarven curses could be heard from behind the visor, and then
the man kicked the dirt floor of the cave and turned around. Gorrakh
continued to hide until the mul was gone, and the light once was gone from
view.

Leaving the safety of the large rock formation, Gorrakh set his light ablaze
once more and began to pray to return home. He halted his attempt when
another cry for help could be heard, coming from deeper in the cave. He had
almost forgotten what caused him to be discovered in the first place.
Feeling confident after his escape, he adjusted his grip on his axes and
continued deeper into the darkness, toward the mysterious sound.

As the darkness somehow thickened, the cries grew louder and could be heard
much more clearly, until even Gorrakh's light source could not penetrate the
blackness. He pressed on, feeling in front of himself with his hands along
the cavern wall until another speck of light could be seen in the distance.
Moving toward the light for what seemed like an eternity, Gorrakh called
out, but his voice did not carry, it seemed to just disappear. The cries
however continued, unhindered by the same force stifling the bandit. A
single circle of light shone around a hunched over figure wearing a dark
cloak. The cries stopped abruptly as Gorrakh approached and, sensing a
trap, the Lord of Revenge turned to run.

He took one step and All around him the ground had silently fallen away.
Just a chasm below. Gorrakh tried to transport himself back to his bind
stone, but felt an absence of divine presence. Nothing would work. He felt
the ground beneath him begin to crumble, and he realized he was being pushed
back toward the circle of light.

As he got closer, he saw that the cloak surrounding the figure shimmered
with a mist-like, ethereal quality. He once more tightened the grip on his
axes and took one more step toward the figure. In an instant, the vaporous
cloak opened, revealing only more darkness and a set of bright red, glowing
eyes. The only other thing Gorrakh could make out was the hilt and pommel
of some sort of blade, sticking out of his own chest, as the light once
again faded.




Writer: Eadaoin
Date Thu Feb 23 11:51:33 2017

To All Thaxanos Nordmaar ( Imm RP )

Subject Tales of the Black Rose Part I: A side tale from "Night at the Museum, Part V"



Note: Thank you to the imms (you know who) for making this RP (and many
other Black Rose Tales I've yet to write) so much fun. It was a heck of a
party!

While more information had, indeed, been gleaned from the relic with the
help of Rnecs, they were no closer to a solution than before. It was
therefore decided that they would await the Clave member that evening, and
the curator would prepare the parchment, ever so carefully, for transport,
should the need arise.

Eadaoin looked over to Rnecs, 'Ah thin' ah owe yue ah pint 'er tue. '

Rnecs grinned at Eadaoin, ''ow aboot de smoite. '

Eadaoin chuckled heartily, 'Aye. '

The curator was amiable to this as well, '{oSounds like a fine idea.
'

Rnecs rubbed his beard and peered into his empty keg, ''appae ta 'elp ye
'ighlanders anae toime.
' Seeing his keg empty, he swore, 'Ye bastrich! Ah
need ah decanter o' sku'splitter mae t'ink. Ah'm bloodae parched.
'

Thus decided, Rnecs, Cassian, the Nordmaarian museum curator, and the queen
stepped outside. The sound of a Nordmaarian song could be heard down the
street being cheerfully sung from the Rose. As they entered, Eadaoin
mentioned, 'Ef yue loike tha' other stuff loike 'onae mead, we kin go tue
Valhalla
' Cassian grinned, 'Valhalla bae safer, fae wot et's worth. '

Rnecs sat down to a large helping of whiskey steak, 'Foine meal ta start. '


Eadaoin raised her head and waved her arm towards the bar, 'Barkeep! Ah
gude smite fer our friend 'ere!
' Rnecs rubbed his hands together happily,
'Oi ye know et. ' With a chuckle, the barkeep set a tall glass full of
clear liquid before Rnecs. He sniffed at it tentatively, 'Wot es this? Wot
es et clear fer?
'

Eadaoin chuckled, ''ighland smite. '

Rnecs looked up, arching a brow at Cassian, 'Ye loike t'is, thar bae no
suds.
'

Cassian laughed, 'Et's less an ale an' more ah spiri'. ' A resounding
"Rnecs! ' echoed out from the rose and through the streets. Inspired by
the chant, Eadaoin thumped the table in line with the chant.

Rnecs chuckled, 'Ah bought mae own drinks! Wot was a t'inkin'? ' as he
filled his keg with the smite.

At this, in proper highland fashion, the staff of the Rose provided the
royal entourage plus the dwarven visitor a meal... Of ale. Cups, full to
the rim, began to crowd the table as more and more were brought out by
waiters from the bar.

Eadaoin laughed heartily, proud of the welcome her good people were
providing. With this in mind, she threw up her voice in a chant, 'Rnecs!
Rnecs! Drink et or bae ah sissae!
'

Somewhere in the corner a small brawl broke out; it was good-spirited and no
one seemed to bat an eye at it.

Rnecs raised his keg, 'To t'e 'ighlands! W'over bae makin' shoddy ale kin
bae throwin into de manure! Let's make et law!
' With that, he smashed the
keg over his head in true dwarvish fashion, missing most of the smite except
just enough to get him drunk. 'nnni ess boae nnnsSzzsss bahd Ah dtnnnAhe
ss'iNk!
' Laughter and cheers abounded for their good-natured guest as
Rnecs nodded approvingly at the local specialty, his beard soaked in it.

Seeing such good spirits about her, Eadaoin called to Thzad, 'We bae
celebratin' yuer runesmith fer 'is 'elp tue ah gude 'elpin' o' 'ighland
smite. Yue 'n tha' rest o' yuer kin bae welcome tue join us.
'

Cassian laughed at All the chanting as he took his chair, graciously
reaching for his own cup.




Writer: Eadaoin

Date Thu Feb 23 11:57:40 2017

To All Thaxanos Nordmaar ( Imm RP )

Subject Tales of the Black Rose Part II: A side tale from "Night at the Museum, Part V"



Eadaoin leaned towards Rnecs, 'Ah extended ah invitation tue yuer thane. '

Rnecs grinned widely; he was pleased to hear his thane would join them. A
few roasted lamb legs were brought out, cups tipped over on the table to
make room for the meat, followed by a few cauldron-sized pots of potatoes.
Cassian rubbed his hands eagerly, a smile growing as he dug into a leg of
lamb, alternating it with mouthfuls of drink to wash it down.

Eadaoin lifted her mug, 'Aye! Ah roight feast et tha' Rose! ' A crowd of
very drunk Nordmaarians cheered, 'Huzzah! ' and All was merry in the Black
Rose. Rnecs tried to start a drinking song, speaking gibberish, 'Ah loike
bearded lasses! SSsshey bae foine..
'

Eadaoin, happy to join in, sang, 'Yue've nae 'ad enough. Ah understan' yuer
twoine.
' She laughed heartily as Rnecs continued, 'BEARDED LASSES BAE DE
BEST... Nnli ni!
'

Eadaoin took a deep drink to this ballad of bearded women, then grinned as
she lowered her mug and wiped her chin with her arm. She grew suddenly
solemn, glanced in her mug, and declared, 'Och, et's nae dark 'nuff! ' She
had no idea what the dwarf was saying anymore when he replied, grinning,
'NnnnshiIn' EUhehnnrri Ahh qAcE LnnnIiike aon AhWe zzZzssZnNn de knnEecAor.
NNnIii awh baeh Ah lnniighzzZzssZ VehiIghsSss
' She laughed good-naturedly,
still a little fuzzy about what he was saying other than something about the
night.

The fight in the corner broke up as the sound of bagpipes broke through the
nose of the crowd, spurring a new flood of drunk, Nordmaarian singing.

Suddenly, Rnecs announced with a cackle, 'Ahh lNnike esSzzsss VhEnNn Deh
LArriRuuer beaqd Vinnkr awsSss mmmmmoae.
' Obviously not really
understanding him, she replied, ' 'nae loight weight, jus' bae strong
liquor.
' Rnecs turned to peer at Cassian, 'dE RuumMoiseh baeh good ah
dtznnaaE rehe xzE Dqinkin?
' Cassian leaned over his food and cup to squint
at Rnecs, 'Wot? '

Grinning, Rnecs raised his glass, 'Drink, drink, drink... Ehres ZSssSa
sZSssSahyin' oosisiue 'n ZSssSehssSzzsssin' negaosSzzsssiuuhe lAhddaheh'
'

Eadaoin laughed, enjoying the atmosphere at the bar so much, she climbed
onto the chair to stand on the table, and lifted her mug in a toast, 'Tue
Rnecs 'n tha' res' 'o our dwarven fren's!
' Cassian leaned back as he
raised his fresh, full-ish cup in cheers, 'Aye! ' before doing his best to
chug it. Some of the ale dribbled out of the side of his mouth and into his
stubble. Rnecs gasped, ' eres ZSssSa ssSzzsssayin' posisive 'n ssessSssin'
negasive laddae
'

Eadaoin deftly moved to the side, for just as she leaned her head back and
quickly finished her mug to the toast, an amazon-sized highland woman threw
two men over her shoulder, not spilling a drop of drink in the mugs she had
dual wields, nor the two men pausing at All in mid chanty.

She threw her mug across the room to the barkeep, 'Aye! Another! ' just as
Thzad walked in to join them. Rnecs turned to greet him as he walked in,
'T'ANE! ' Eadaoin turned her own attention to Thzad, grinning from atop the
table, 'Aye, yue jus' missed ah toast tue yue 'n yours. Welcome tue
Nordmaar, Thane!
'

Thzad rose his voice above the noise, ' Figured Ah'd bring me some o me
special brew. { X ' Rnecs leaned forward, 'Did ye bring de skullsplitter?!
'Ahm off tha skullsplitter for now. Ah never learn that lesson for long
though.

Frosty mugs of frothy beer began to appear out of nowhere, one after the
other, with each song from the Thane. A few of the patrons snagged Cassian
from his chair, throwing their arms over his shoulder as they volunteer him
to join the songs. He looked about him in surprise, feet kicking about to
find the floor as he joined the singing.

Rnecs raised his glass again, 'May our sons 'ave rich fa'ers 'n drop dead
gorgeous mothers!
'





Writer: Eadaoin

Date Thu Feb 23 12:01:44 2017

To All Thaxanos Nordmaar ( Imm RP )

Subject Tales of the Black Rose Part III: A side tale from "Night at the Museum, Part V



Eadaoin hopped off of the table, to the chair, and finally to the floor
to pick up a frosty mug, 'Ah'll bae 'appae tue troi tha' thane's brew. '
She took a deep draught and slammed mug down on the

table with a grin, 'aoye! NAhE 'ighland smisSzzssseh, busSss EsSss 'ahs ah
gudeh frosSssh.
' Thzad responded his agreement, '{nFilled me stein with et,
a nice ale good for chatting
'

A loud echoing shout deafened the bar," Thzad!!! " and before the Thane can
get too far, no fewer than a dozen Highlanders offered their drinks to the
Dwarf lord. Thzad smiled and proceeded

to oblige and take drinks from several mugs, '{nCor, good sssuff
' Eadaoin
smiled broadly, "Aye, bae welcome! Dinnae let tha' food go tue waste. '
She picked up her mug to take another drink, only to find it empty, so she
tossed a second empty mug to the barkeep.

Eadaoin had just replaced her mug with a new one when her thoughts were
interrupted. She tilted her head to the sound of Cassian's voice, 'Gray
church yinnae.
' Eadaoin furrowed her brows and looked around, 'Wot?
Where? ' Cassian turned his head toward the entrance to Nordmaar, a look of
distaste reflecting in his features. Eadaoin growled and rose her voice as
she ducked her head out of the door, 'Bloodae mutt! Get outta mae citae! '
Rnecs rose his own voice, 'OI TARGET PRACTICE' Eadaoin called to the guards,
'Mutt en tha' citae! ' Rnecs yelled, 'GET DE SCISSORS' Thzad nodded, {nAye.
Ferg was skulkin about yer gates when ah walked over 'ere.
' A good portion
of the drunk patrols stumble out of the bar to go take care of the
incursion.

Eadaoin sought out news, and it had appeared the yinn had left, though she
made a mental note at what Thzad had revealed. She didn't care what faction
they were a part of. They were not welcome. This storm of thoughts was
suddenly dispersed when a separate group of drunken highlanders, too
inebriated for their own good, sat the queen in a chair, then hoisted the
chair up to circle the table a time or two, relatively stable in
contradiction to their condition. Eadaoin let her anger drop. She shrugged
as she tucked this information away for later, and raised her arms as she
was hoisted around the room.

Rnecs gave Cassian a glassy-eyed look, ' Wot ah wos tryin' ta say earlier
wos... 'eres ta stayin' positive 'n testin' negative laddae.
' Cassian
laughed heartily at the jest and raised his glass, 'Tue stayin' positive! '
Eadaoin grinned as she reached down from the chair to retrieve a stray mug
from the table as she passed by it.

Thzad stepped forward, dropping large portions of "battlerager's cut" beef
on the table, '{n Brought some o Thaxnos's beef for ye kind folk as ah symbol
o friendship between our folk an yers, stoutest of men. Long have tha
Dwarves o Thaxnos held tha brave men of Nordmaar in high regard'.
' With
this, the thane raised his stein in respect and took a deep drought off of
it. Eadaoin laughed as she raised her own mug to Thzad, 'Aye 'n yue 'n yuer
kin bae welcome. Tha' feelin' bae mutual.
'

Rnecs looked suddenly confused when he glanced over at Thzad, 'Ah dunnae wot
ah did but ah t'ink et 'elped 'em!
' At this, Cassian laughed heartily. It
appeared the good runesmith had had enough to forget why they were
celebrating.

The party continued throughout the tavern, and several of the Thane's
entourage gladly accepted the ceaseless challenges from the Nordmaarian
patrons to engage in feats of drinking. A thought from Cassian suddenly
invaded her senses, ' En tha int'rests o' revelations, ah go' engaged las'
noigh'!
'

[This was too funny not to add. ] You are sober.

Cassian grinned over to his sister from across the room.

Rnecs, unaware, was raising his glass to a new toast, as if it was the first
time he had done it that night, 'Friends may come 'n friends may go but
'eres ta liquir ta smooth de blow.
'

(more to follow...)




Writer: Eadaoin

Date Thu Feb 23 12:32:49 2017

To All Thaxanos Nordmaar ( Imm RP )

Subject Tales of the Black Rose Part IV: A side tale from "Night at the Museum, Part V"



Eadaoin blinked in surprise at Cassian's announcement, then she dropped
her mug to the floor before hopping down from the elevated chair, rushing
towards Cassian with a "Whoop! " Cassian laughed emphatically as she
approached, his eyes glimmering in amusement. In true little sister form
she cried out, "Yue dinnae! ' He laughed heartily, ' Ah di'! An' long
overdue et wos, tue.
'

Eadaoin grinned mischievously before turning to the table. She picked up
two mugs and banged them together, 'People o' Nordmaar 'n our guests! Ah've
an announcement!
'

One of the more spirited Highlanders exchanged head-butts with a dwarf. The
dwarf staggered just slightly, then proceeded to send the highlander through
one of the windows. The entire Rose erupted in cheer All the same, the
sailors in the bunch taking every chance to make fun of their friend as he
stumbled back through the window. This caused laugher All around from both
Thane and Rnecs as well as the queen.

Thzad said in his booming voice, '{nAye, ye'll nay win ah head-butting contest
with ah dwarf, tha' bar certain
' Eadaoin flashed him a grin. After a
moment, the Rose quieted to a low hush.

Eadaoin, noticing the tavern had quieted, pointed her mug at Cassian, 'Yer
Baron, Cassian, dune got 'imself engaged las' noight! Three cheers fer tha'
Baron! Mae et last manae years 'n 'er nae kill 'im tue quicklae!
' With
this, she tipped her mug over Cassian's head, a stream of ale and froth
baptizing him as Eadaion threw her head back in laughter. Cassian joined in
the laughter as he threw his head back to catch as much of the beer as he
could in his mouth, throwing his arms out to his sides as it drips from his
fingertips.

Once again, the sailors took a few moments to make some very sailor-like
comments about the wife-to-be, in good humor All the same.

Eadaion yelled, 'YIP yip! ' Rnecs laughed and cheered, 'Ah'll drink ssa
dass.
' and Thzad exclaimed, '{nCongratulations. Ah love et, this place bae
like our own taverns on Pub Row!
'

Eadaoin grinned as her eyes met Thzad's smiling face, 'Ah'm glad yue came
tue join us after all. ' He walked over to the fireplace and, grabbing a
brand with his bare hands, used it to light his pipe. He took a few puffs
then washed it down with a sip of beer.

One of the naval officers snuck up behind Cassian, then fixed an actual ball
and chain to Cassian's ankle with a sly grin. Rnecs, seeing what had
transpired, laughed heartily. Eadaion joined in, laughing at the officer's
antics, but nudged him slightly, 'Dinnae lock 'im up tue badlae. We need
tue bae on patrol tuenoight.
'




Writer: Eadaoin

Date Thu Feb 23 12:59:12 2017

To All Thaxanos Nordmaar ( Imm RP )

Subject Tales of the Black Rose Part V: A side tale from "Night at the Museum, Part V"



Cassian looked down too late at the pressure around his ankle, shaking
his head to clear his vision of the beer as the offending object comes into
view, before tilting his head back in further laughter.

Thzad grinned over at Cassian, '{nSo whose tha lucky lass?
' Smiling proudly,
Cassian replied, ' Ladae Dei'dre MacLeod, o' course! ' Eadaoin shook her
head, 'Ah kinnae b'lieve she waited tue years. ' Cassian shook his head,
'Twentae years. ' Eadaoin widened her eyes, 'Oi! ' Thzad nodded, '{n Well
good on ye, may yer children bae strong an many
' At this, Cassian laughed, '
Jus' wot wae nee', more kids!
'

The conversation was cut short when a rowdy dwarf stood on a table and
proclaimed," Dinnae worrae ladaes! Ah'm still singal! "

Laugher in the tavern echoed throughout Nordmaar. A sly grin crossed
Eadaoin's features, ''Kin yue imagine ma's face ef ah broughss 'ome ah
dwarf?
Cassian's instant answer in her mind, "Och! " set Eadaoin into
fresh laughter.

Rnecs wandered over to the table, throwing a few gold coins where the dwarf
stood, 'S'ake et laddae. '

The evening continued in high spirits, the friends sitting long into the
night, talking about customs and sharing good food and drink. As the dawn
began to fade to morning, and their dwarven guests had gone, Eadaion grinned
over to Cassian. We need tue get tha' ball 'n chain off. She stood,
looking around the tavern. Those who were still there had passed out by the
fire, on the table, or where they sat. Eadaoin yelled out, ' Wot'e'er
officer bae 'avin' tha' key tue this 'ere ball 'n chain needs tue come take
et off!
'

No answer.

Cassian tilted his head side to side, neck clicking before he lowered his
knee to check the fasting on the chain, ' Mae 'ave tae cut tha chain, an'
see tue tha lock later.
' Eadaoin grinned as she pulled her axe of Raije
from its straps. She set the handle between her knees as she spit on her
palms, then took the axe in hand.

Cassian leaned the rest of his body away from the chain, eyes narrowed, arm
shielding his face warily, 'Yue bes' bae makin' ah few practice chops firs',
ah wont tae know yuer aim bae true!
'

Eadaoin snorted in disgust, 'Roight... Une, tue, three. ' Cassian tensed.


Eadaoin raised the axe high, wobbled slightly, hiccups, then brought the axe
down onto the chain, severing it cleanly. 'Ha! Practice mae arse. '

Cassian drew back, pulling the remnants of his part of the chain with him,
shaking his leg to ensure it still works and is attached, ' Pfah, ah saw tha
wobble!
'

Eadaoin offered Cassian a wide grin, 'Yue 'ad yuer eyes closed yue sissae.
'

End




Writer: Iscarianth

Date Thu Feb 23 15:07:07 2017

To All ( Storyline Imm Roleplay )

Subject A day's study ( Part 1 )



"No, no. Not lemon balm. It hasn't grown back yet. It's not -perfect-!
Has to be perfect. Mmm. Let's try ground beetle carapace instead"

Iscarianth tended to mutter to himself as he worked, as though it helped
solidify his thoughts and aid in his concentration. Whether it was actually
helpful or not was yet to be determined, since the poor alchemist never
seemed to be able to create something that -worked-. His dyes always ended
up the wrong color, his tinctures either burned or numbed instead of
soothed, and his potions smelled and tasted of death warmed-over. Calling
him an alchemist at All might be a generous distinction, but he -was-
trying.

"Ack, no! No, no, no. That'll never work. Wait, is that fire...?"

Ever since he had left the atelier, he had tried to live according to the
spirit of his mentor's wishes, if not the exact letter. He was supposed to
be studying the world outside its spotless grounds, to see the sights other
than its sculptures, artworks, and libraries. Of course, nobody ever said
that he couldn't find a comfortable place and wait for -others- to bring him
things to experiment with. Already, he had met many ranging from precocious
kender to hauntingly beautiful elves. Gnomes with powers far surpassing his
own, and even grunting trolls and ogres. That -was- exploring, right? In
any event, that is how he justified his still-sedentary lifestyle.

Of course, any good student of the ways of artisanship cannot -always- lay
dormant, and so he -did- venture forth at times to explore fields, swamps,
mountains, even the ruins of great castles. Though each time, he was
certain he shaved minutes if not hours of his life as a result of
misadventure. And so it was, that this day had found him recovering from a
series of failed experiments into foraging for food and reagents, having
eaten berries that while perhaps having tasted good, lead to delirious heat
and a zombie-like fugue. For whatever reason, his body constantly returned
him to the grounds of the temple with its familiar gray walls and fountains.



Laying in repose, he could -still- study and write, so it went that he
finally set aside his attempts at experimenting and instead opted to write
down his observations within his journal. Hovering his face inches from its
surface, he diligently wrote and wrote, his hand cramping from time to time
but proving only a mild nuisance. Soon though, black spots began to swim
into the edges of his vision, a strange phenomenon that would not allow him
to look directly at them. It was fascinating, the way they moved and
danced, never standing still and never entering the center of his field of
vision.

Just as he was about to begin writing about it in his journal, a sudden
clammy grasp seemed to squirm along his cheek and neck - the darkness
growing more pronounced by the moment. It would be horribly fascinating,
were it not so frightening. His fingers went numb, his voice trapped in his
throat, sweat forming on his forehead as the darkness seemed to throb and
pulse within his eyes until finally becoming complete. Suddenly, he was not
within the familiar and protective walls of the temple, but somewhere else.
Floating, drifting, inexorably drawn towards -somewhere- that he could feel
more than see. Soon, the otherworldly forms of ruins began to form and the
vaguest of outlines could be seen of other things: Books, maps, scientific
and arcane implements. It had to be some place so very similar to the
atelier - yet at the same time utterly different.

(cont...)




Writer: Iscarianth

Date Thu Feb 23 15:08:14 2017

To All ( Storyline Imm Roleplay )

Subject A day's study ( Part 2 )



Were he able to move, the Elf would almost assuredly try to wander
through the ruins - but his form had completely fallen numb with his tongue
feeling fat and heavy in his mouth. Just as well, for the visions began to
twist and turn, fading slowly at first to mingle with the more 'real' sight
of gray walls, pillows, and falling water. Then, as suddenly as it had come
upon him, the vision crashed into itself and vanished, only a single word
lingering somehow in his mind:

Aversia

What it meant, what it was, why it was important - none of that was known to
the poor alchemist, yet for some reason his hand moved to scrawl each letter
across the face of his journal's page. Looking down at it as his muscles
seemed to slowly begin to respond once more, the sight made him slightly
uneasy - but that was quickly subdued by an even more powerful feeling:
Curiosity. He knew he had felt drawn to the east, and he knew that he had
seen books and ruins, and he knew a word. He was a scholar, a young and
inexperienced one, but -surely- he could piece it All together.

Right?




Writer: Teimhnean

Date Thu Feb 23 18:43:28 2017

To All Nordmaar ( RP imm )

Subject Liberations: March of the Smallest Feet I



There is always the usual startle - regaining awareness even though you
cannot see straight. Teimhnean's mouth tasted like salt and copper, again.
Not for the first time, he worried that All that being an Emperor business
had made him too soft. Soft headed, soft hearted, soft limbed and soft
gutted.

'No time fer that now' he thought as his eyes focused, and his hearing
cleared. Gaining his feet, he found his bearings. He could hear the din of
combat and the clash of arms echoing in the dank dark of the pit he was in.
Nordmaarians - his countrymen, had been rounded up - stolen away from their
homes, beaten and savaged and thrown into this oubliette. Rot and death
filled the air - with his head still ringing from the blow, Teimhnean
swallowed the bile of his rising gorge and spat a mouthful of blood onto
the ground.

None of the other prisoners seemed to notice him, which either meant that
the magics of his invisibility held, or they were All so terrified of what
was to come that they did not care about his arrival. The private basic
patted himself down, finding All of his gear on his person.

'Odd - or perhaps convenient for the Yinn' Teimhnean thought as he
steeled himself for the array of grotesqueries that awaited him.

'They get you too?' Teimhnean reached out to Rhaelor's mind.

'Nay. I am trying to find where they took you.' his comrade responded.

Teimhnean made his way down the tunnel, men and women struck with fear -
being pushed out by the sheer force of the bodies behind them, pushed out
by the star inevitability that what they light held at the end of this
tunnel was only death.

Before a great battle the air is thick with fear tempered by courage. Men
and women hoping to perform great deeds in the name of their cause, being
bold at the spear though they know they might die. They stand shoulder to
shoulder with one another and they face their foes as one.

What Teimhnean beheld as he stepped into the light of the arena was every
perversion of war. Ganthians and Nordmaarians battled one another in a
terrified frenzy, each combatant out for their own survival - Alliances
breaking as quickly as they formed. It was All death and indignity - the
foul frgarances blood, and piss, and scat soaked the air. Limbs and
entrails made slick the killing floor, causing even the mightiest to take
a fatal slip. Broken horns and tattered kilts and so many dead eyes caught
in an eternal gaze of disbelief. That every moment of their lives led to
this end - every ambition, every jealousy, every charity, and every
affection - to end in a stupid gaze beholding a slate sky, or face down
in the bloody mud of the earth...the nearest to a burial any of them
would get.

No loyalty.
No courage.
No victory.

Just that insane abattoir - the flash of steel, the arterial spray, and
all through it the cheering of Yinn as they watched from above. Cheering
and laughing at the grotesquerie of their artifice.

A dying voice whimpering for their mother, in common or minotaur, is
harrowing All the same.

'I'm in the arena pit' Teimhnean thought to Rhaelor flatly as he made
his way towards the eastern gate of the arena.




Writer: Mezlak

Date Thu Feb 23 21:16:36 2017

To Marauders Milleuda All ( Raije Imm RP Religion Tashio )

Subject Hunting Traitors - Traitors at Home



Mezlak walked into the Rusty Nail and made his way to the back room.
It'd been long since he was last in this establishment. Truthfully, he'd
not been in this bar in some time. Honestly, he wouldn't have been here now
if he hadn't gotten the report from Raije's Supreme Commander.

He couldn't believe someone else was trying to turn away Marauder soldiers
from serving Raije again. Though he shouldn't be surprised. He wouldn't be
any less tenatious in achieving his goals, why should his enemies. He
wouldn't stoop to such cowardly tactics, though.

As he sat in the back of the bar, drinking his whiskey, he tried his best to
blend in. He doubted this plan of visting bars, waiting for another priest
to show, speaking against Marauder values. His face was likely too
recognisable. Anyone wishing to subvert the Army's values would likely not
try with him sitting in the bar.

He did have other eyes and ears out there, listening, waiting.

He would not let the enemy have this Army. They came to close the last
time. There will not be a next time. He would die before letting it get
that close again.

Mezlak leaned back in his seat drinking his whiskey, his sharp eyes studying
everyone in the bar closely.




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Thu Feb 23 21:57:14 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Thu Feb 23 21:58:06 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Thu Feb 23 21:59:08 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Thu Feb 23 22:20:11 2017




Writer: Hrentun

Date Fri Feb 24 09:27:19 2017




Writer: Nathalos

Date Fri Feb 24 09:35:12 2017




Writer: Kagetora

Date Fri Feb 24 12:07:48 2017




Writer: Kagetora

Date Fri Feb 24 12:15:25 2017




Writer: Kagetora

Date Fri Feb 24 12:20:40 2017




Writer: Nathalos

Date Fri Feb 24 17:32:48 2017




Writer: Nathalos

Date Fri Feb 24 19:53:56 2017




Writer: Fynix

Date Fri Feb 24 21:25:38 2017

To All Arkane Gypsies

Subject |A| Chefs and Bakers and Cooks, Oh My |A|


.--------------------------------------------------------------------------.
| |
| At long last, the day had finally arrived. After the word had spread |
| its way across Algoron, Fynix had worried that most simply didn't have |
| the heart or soul to bring before him a feast worthy of Emperors and |
| Sultans and Counts. But finally the time had come, the Phoenix Hoard |
| had been opened, and Brianarii Leuv was showing contestants, judges, |
| and guests to their seats in the lounge, with the help of the other |
| waitresses. The long table arrayed before the stage was already fit |
| to burst with All manner of delicacies. |
| |
| Pterodactyl Drumsticks. Chicken and Dumplings. Shokono Stir Fry. |
| Ice Cream Sundaes. Jellyfish Gelatin. Chocolate-Dipped Strawberries. |
| Pomegranite Cocktail. Purified Mineral Water. Even Vodka Martinis. |
| |
| Shaken, not stirred, of course. |
| |
| It was enough to move Fynix to tears, but he dutifully kept dried his |
| eyes and pressed forward with the contest. Starting by explaining the |
| rules to the judges. After the one year a goblin had submitted maggots |
| as an entry, he'd been quite adamant about not forcing judges to try |
| anything they didn't want to in order to judge it. Helped weed out a |
| few of the joke entries (he still cringed to hear people suggest roast |
| ariel wing, which thankfully nobody had actually submitted) and kept |
| the judges happy. |
| |
| And now the moment of truth. Cooks, chefs, bakers, brewers, hunters, |
| and wine-makers from across Algoron had come to submit their entires, |
| each standing up in turn, explaining their entry, and serving it up to |
| the judges. More than a few brought enough for everyone as well, and |
| eagerly (if not greedily) accepted anything he could to sample, noting |
| any particular combinations that would be good on the future menus of |
| the Phoenix Hoard. |
| |
| And finally, after bellies were filled and appetites sated, the final |
| score was tallied and the winners awarded their recognition (also some |
| money). |
| |
| The gathering lingered for a long while after that, lightening Fynix's |
| heart. Amidst the war with the north and All the conflict and violence |
| from the Clans, it was nice to see people just being happy together in |
| one another's company. |
| |
| He couldn't wait to do this again next year. |
| |
'--------------------------------------------------------------------------'




Writer: Iscarianth

Date Fri Feb 24 22:45:03 2017

To All ( Storyline Imm Roleplay )

Subject Far away from home ( Part 1 )



It took every ounce of willpower in the young alchemist's grasp not to
just immediately leave the confines of the gray temple. The name "Aversia"
gnawed at him. The sight of those strange relic-filled ruins haunted his
sleep. A sensation constantly tugged at his legs and feet as if forcing him
to orient to the east. But he was a faithful student, the lessons of his
mentor and the precepts of the atelier were not easily forgotten.

He looked through the books of the Gray Church, he thought about leaving a
note for his helper but thought better of it - nobody would miss him if he
made his journey quick, right? And if nobody missed him, nobody would
follow him. And if nobody followed him, nobody would discover whatever
great secrets waited for him. The competitiveness was something he knew he
had to work on, that it was one of the many reasons he was even sent out to
these lands in the first place. Yet it still ate at him and in this
instance, helped to steady and temper his desire to run right off.

So it was, he continued to try to find out All that he could - but All he
was able to gleam was that Aversia was an empire. The operative word for
the poor alchemist was *was*. It stretched the whole of modern day Arkania,
and so that meant that whatever the meaningfulness of the name was, whatever
the force was that was drawing him to the east... Could be -anywhere-.

He was no stranger to difficult tasks, hells, he was -here- on a difficult
task and so this one was simply another he would resign himself to. With
just the clothes on his back, his pouches, and a simple bronze dagger that
was thrust upon him by one demanding he have some way of defending himself.
As he traversed the great road, he stopped along the path to look within
every shrine, every temple, every building remotely resembling a library and
yet All he found out was what he already knew: Aversia. Place. Past. By
the time he set eyes upon the great eastern ocean and the port of Thalos, he
was beginning to grow frustrated.

Still, the trip should be relaxing. He'd never been on a boat before, much
less the ocean itself. He looked forward to finding things to memorize, to
keep in his memories, to gather, to learn about. What could possibly go
wrong?




Writer: Ozleust

Date Sat Feb 25 12:01:29 2017

To All Conclave ( IMM RP Drakkara )

Subject The pursuit of the untamed Pt. 1



The piles of requests had stacked up on the desk of Ozleust as he was
sojourning through the lands of Algoron. He was catching up with the
missives and stumbled across the signet of the three Towers.

"I need to speak to you" - Musen

The name, the urgency in the missive raised suspicion in Ozleust. As soon
as the thought to see Musen rushed into him, Ozleust was approached by the
Wizard himself.

"It has been some time since you have graced us with your presence,
Ozleust... Save the catching up until later, I need your help"


Those words were said with urgency... An urgency that Ozleust was not used
to from the Master.

"What do you need?"

"I need you to contact the spirits... I need help with-....."

The words trailed off. The Master casted a spell to muffle his words. The
request can only be heard by Ozleust. Ozleust nodded as he heard the
Master's frustration in his words and considered the request.

Ozleust nodded, though this request intrigued him... He was used to
unorthodox procedures and studies, this is what gave Ozleust support from
his peers and fellow Magi. A Magi of the Towers that truly did research in
the unstable magicks of the land.

This in turn can suit Ozleust's motives himself. The problem that the
Master presented brought up an idea from Ozleust.

Not teleportation

Not material alteration

Time. A magic that could only be controlled by gods and balanx to record
history. Time is a magic that has eluded the magi and perhaps this could be
a study that will help the Master.

This means one thing however... Ozleust needs a witch.




Writer: Aliera

Date Sat Feb 25 14:47:31 2017




Writer: Mercerion

Date Sat Feb 25 15:18:51 2017




Writer: Aliera

Date Sat Feb 25 15:20:09 2017




Writer: Musen

Date Sun Feb 26 19:52:32 2017

To All kyri admin conclave cahlizna zerani imm rp

Subject Capturing the Witch



Rush, Adrenaline, fueling the body of the mages, persuing Welari about
the Commons. Sheath was stopped by each guard along the way, the guilds
would not have her, she was not of the Conclave. Musen struggled behind,
toating his staff in hand, she had to have gone somewhere, and not far.
Musen lept into the nearest portal, leading to the Hall of Costs. Equipped
with a sword, and wand, he met Welari. The battle ensued, the Master of the
Conclave formed acid throwing it towards Welari, the blasts hitting and
searing her flesh. Though the witch had a trick up her sleeve, she laughed
when the Master attempted to form more acid to find he could not even move
his lips.

Perrin roared through the portal "Master, retreat, I will finish this! "

Musen tactically escaped returning to the towers, watching through the
portal as the standoff with the Armsman and the witch began. Welari was
already damaged by the mages previous encounter, but would not cease,
striking for Perrinn. The Guardian found his whip around her hands and
subdued the witch, bringing her back to the towers to face her execution.

Brought before the Council, Perrinn holding Welari hostage, asks "What do we
do with her?
" The Wizards and Master held a conversation amongst
themselves determinging the best course of actions to take.

"Ah sae we pu' 'er below the towers, there bae manae things we cin learn
from 'er Studen'
" Omngoten would say.

"I don't want her anywhere near the towers" Rumptin fluttered.

"I'm at a loss, we'll reconvene tomorrow, for now tie her in the Room of
Isolation, bind her, blindfold her, and make sure she has no visitors
" The
Master would say, and Perrinn took her to the Chamber, Guarding her until
her trial. "Welari, careful of the Vampires, they get hungry. "




Writer: Musen

Date Sun Feb 26 19:56:57 2017

To All kyri admin conclave cahlizna zerani imm rp

Subject The Witches Trial



The Council begun their meeting, determing the course of action to take.
"It comes down to this, Omni, Rumpy, we could kill the witch for her
actions, the warrant death, though we already hunt down and kill her kind,
her ties to the student and their lifeforces being connected is an issue.
We cannot simply kill her if it means Josie will die.
"

Before another word passed, Josie appeared in the room, smiling and waving.
"Hello! "

The Council completed their conversations including Josie in the discussion,
though she hesistated "I'm greatful you are so worried about my life, but
she cannot remain, you don't know how powerful she truly is
"

Musen nodded "Then we will give her choices."

A week had passed, and Welari was allowed out of the pitch-black room to
meet before the Council of the Conclave. "Such hospitality, you guys
couldn't give a girl somewhere to use the bathroom?
"

The Council seemed to ignore Welari and continue "You are charged with the
use of Illegal Magic, The Conclave being a fair organization, offers you a
choice, you can live your life below the Ebony Tower, a Prisoner, you will
have no visitors you will speak with nobody, your best friend may be a rat
"


Welari seems to laugh, though it doesn't seem she finds it funny "I don't
want to be here! No I want to be far away, I promise I'll never stir a
cauldron again, Never! I'm trustworthy, I swear!"

Rumptin responds "I don't want you here either, and we can't trust you. "

Omngoten mutters something under his breath about power, magic, and seems
annoyed.

Musen looks at Welari "We have very little choice, we cannot allow you to
run wild conjuring drakes, turning human into ferret and practicing
witchraft, we cannot kill you, it leaves us in a bitter state of affair.
"


Welari almost cries out "You came to where I practice magic, took me
hostage, took my pet, and YOU are the ones with a bitter state of affairs?
"

The Council spoke amongst themselves and the Master stated "We have one last
option, Forbidden magic. I will personally administer as I know how
powerful and dangerous this magic is, I will take on the whole burdon
myself.
"

Magi in the background spoke out "Master, we will lend your our power, we
shall All link with you, will that help?
"

Musen spoke back "I will take All the energy you can offer me, this is a
dangerous process for her, and me." Welari looked over the Master,
obviously agitated, she attempts to wriggle free from Perrinn to no avail.
Finally she agrees "Okay, I'll let you do this thing, but can I have some
last words?
"

Magi in the background were furious at her request, but the Master nodded "I
await your final words
"




Writer: Musen

Date Sun Feb 26 20:31:52 2017

To All conclave kyri cahlizna zerani admin imm rp

Subject Powerful Banned Alterations



Welari daunted for a few moments, she didn't say a word, the magi
Protested "just get it over with! Do it already. " The witch used this
small conflict to try and find an opening to escape, to no avail, Perrinn
had not taken his eyes off her for even a moment to scratch his leg. "See!
She's trying to escape! Do it now!
"

Musen shaked his head and raised his hands "She will be given respect and
her last words, she will never be the same person again after this, I want
to hear what she has to say.
"

The magi acknowledged the Master and looked to the Witch, she began speaking
"Magi before me, I tell you my last words I will exact my revenge on the
Conclave, every single one of you, you have not seen the last of me! The
Conclave will rue this day!
"

Musen nodded "If those are your final words, I will begin, if you don't
fight me, the process will be smoother, and you may not lose memories you
are meant to keep. I will be as careful as possible, but this is ofcourse
banned and unpracticed magic.
"

Welari whined "you're going to turn me into a vegetable. " Rumptin spoke
cheerily "Musen is a very powerful mage, you are in good hands, so long as
you don't resist, there's nobody I would trust more to conduct this
process
"

Musen thanked Rumptin and began his process. Chanting softly his hands
began changing colors, magi around watched him in suspicion, curiousity, and
awe. He placed his eyes on Welari "have a seat. She hesitated "If she
will not sit, make her Perrinn, but as I said, this will go easier if you
co-operate.
"

Welari sat, and Musen set his hands on her head, shutting his eyes, his
hands glowing a pink color, and so it began.




Writer: Musen

Date Sun Feb 26 20:36:42 2017

To All conclave kyri admin imm rp cahlizna zerani

Subject The Alteration's True Form



Musen travelled the corridors of Welari's mind, twists, turns, and
endless corridors with doorways. This was her mind, a powerful witch, a
novice magic user at best, but her knowledge of Witchcraft was so vast and
large, this journey could be endless.

Musen travelled along finding a charred door which he entered. The Memories
of the witches most out of control magic. Spiraling seas of magic,
lightning crashing down slicing every tree in it's path, the weather
manipulating a monsoon. Winds so great the sea of magic begins to split,
Welari in her youth stands in the middle, stirring her cauldron. Sheath
tosses in a few ingredients and spins her spoon, The waves crash above her,
but her whole form protected from them. Musen walked to where Welari stood,
the ocean is no enemy to the sea-elf he would freely be able to phase and
evacuate if necessary.

As the Master approached he realized Welari was still mumbling, not even
noticing his presence. This was only a memory it could be changed, altered,
or destroyed. He left the memory and destroyed the door.

Meanwhile in the tower, Welari's face begins to show signs that her memories
are beginning to disappear, she begins to struggle again to no avail. Musen
say softly 'Her mind, is very powerful. '

Back in the endless corridors of memories, the Master finds a beautiful door
made of solid oak, furnished with the finest gold hinges and decorative
windows.

As he enters he notices Welari and the Student Josie in her human form.
"Student, grab me an eye of newt, and a unicorn's horn" Josie nodded,
completely obedient she ventured to gather the objects she was requested,
though she knew little of what Welari was planning with this. Welari's eyes
flickered with jealousy, Josie was more beautiful and young than she, she
was a more powerful magic user, she wanted All that Josie had. As Josie
returned with the ingredients Welari completed her brew. Josie disappeared
into a mist, and an adorable brown ferret hit the ground.

The Master knew what was next, he chanted and destroyed this door, the
memory forever lost and sealed away.

As the Master went back up the corridor he realized it was much shorter now,
he found his way to the last door, as he entered it was a whirpool. Upon
further examination it was a large, wait.. What is this? Musen is in a
Cauldron!




Writer: Musen

Date Sun Feb 26 21:00:13 2017

To All conclave admin imm kyri cahlizna zerani rp

Subject Powerful Magic Breeds Powerful Consequence



Back in the Conclave, the Master has his hands set on Welari's head he's
panting, having trouble keeping his breath.

Magi look onward in distress "Master, is everything alright!? " "We need to
stop this!
" "No, we just need to; concentrate and give him All we have,
he's counting on us.
"

Back in the mind

Even in his phased form, he's no match for the current, fighting for dear
life, is he being stirred?

A Giant Welari looks down from above stirring the what seems to be a large
spoon. "You thought you could destroy me,; You are not as powerful as I am,
and in here, I control what happens.
"

The Master of the Conclave is not new to finding innovation, it's the
Conclave's goal, would he die in a pool of his own making? The Master
created a tornado in the opposite direction, causing the spoon to stop,
Welari struggles to attempt to turn it once again. With Welari distracted
Musen uses the winds of the tornado to fly above the cauldron, and his form
begins to enlarge. Now standing before Welari "This is over, we are
through, it ends now
"

Welari laughs, stirring her cauldron once again "you think this is done, you
think All is well, well look into my Cauldron,; it's how you'll die, your
last spell
"

Musen's form enlarges slightly more, he looks almost confused, until he
feels a surge of energy, his magi have concentrated more energy to him.
Musen begins to lose control of the immense pool of magic developing within
him. He feels a certain energy stronger than most. The energy felt very
familiar, "Nessah sends a message, burn which" A large cone of flaming
energy surrounds musen and destroys Welari's Spoon, the whirpool of magic
reacts to the fire creating large clouds of steam. The steam becomes
unstable turning back into water, the whole room begins to flood, the
whirpool sucks Musen own into it's eye.

Musen lifts his hands from Welari's head stumbling back weakly "It's done"

The magi look onto Musen as he stumbles backwards "We must monitor her until
she's done, but what to do with her now, we can't; just leave her like
this
"

Perrinn stands and suggests "I'll house her, and employ her in one of my
many stores
"

Musen struggles his body uneasy "Then do so, make sure she has a good life,
she'll never remember what happened here today.
"

Nessah looks over to the Master "If you need help returning to the
cushions..
"

Musen smiles weakly to Nessah "You've come a long way, months ago if someone
would even touch you, you would burn them
"

Nessah didn't seem amused and responds "Don't take it that far. "

Josie smiled at Musen "Thank You, everyone! I can return home now, because
of you!
"

Welari regained her conciousness wondering where she was, Perrinn told her
she was late for her shift and needed to return to work, she went willingly.



Nessah helped Musen to the cushions, and the Master rested for a day.

Musen awoke, still very weak, and hungry now, he shrugged, knowing he could
just create a mushroom from his very magic.

But when he spoke the words, nothing happened.




Writer: Musen

Date Sun Feb 26 21:53:52 2017

To All conclave kyri admin imm rp Cahlizna Zerani

Subject A Fateful Encounter



It's been days, the Master of the Conclave was more simple than a
barbarian, and couldn't swing a sword like one, either.

Restless, he called a meeting with the Ivory Wizard, Rumptin.

They grouped in the communal meeting room, the Master stood before the Ivory
Wizard "I have to show you something.. " Rumptin watched curiously as Musen
attempted to use magic, to no avail. "I will... Require your discretion"

Rumptin nodded, as they concluded other matters and Rumptin left, a familiar
voice could be heard in the corridor.

"Ozleust, please come to the Meeting Room?" The Master questioned, before
Ozleust arrived "Nathalos if you are out there, you should come aswell"

Musen began explaining his situation, "And what I require from you is... To
see if you can communicate with any spirits, question if you can find
anything to aid me
"

Ozleust agreed, and nodded, before Musen turned to Nathalos "and I need you
to take care of the Towers, at least temporarily while we study this
ailment
"

As Nathalos nodded to Musen, Ozleust butted in "But.. I have my own
request.
" Musen studied Ozleust for a second but nodded, as if to carry
on. "I want to become a Historian of the Towers, and dedicate my time to
research and development
"

Musen hesitated "I don't know, You joined us to be a Guardian, and.. As
long as you still aid your tower in battle, I see no issue..
" then smiled
"Your first task is to research my ailment"

Ozleust snickered "You're spoiled. "

After everyone departed and the day came to an end, Musen met with Rumptin
one more time. "I have Ozleust doing research on my current condition, and
I'm going to take some personal time researching, I've only two ways of
commute, land and sea, and I feel like I'm starting to remember what
happened last.
"

Rumptin nodded "Take your leave, be well friend, hope to see you soon. "

The Two Wizards parted ways, and Musen left the towers.




Writer: Xiaos

Date Sun Feb 26 22:26:13 2017

To All Conclave Imm Rp

Subject A new path begins (I)



Xiaos unrolled a new piece of vellum parchment and carefully laid it upon
the table before him. He reached into one of the many pockets of his robes,
and pulled out a quill and inkwell made of bone. He carefully set these
instruments down so as not to defile the unblemished surface of the scroll
he was about to prepare. Xiaos had done this a thousand times before, but
this time was different. He noticed his clawed hands were shaking slightly,
so he took a deep breath and steeled his nerves. The day had finally come,
the day he would announce his intentions to the Council.

Xiaos dipped his quill into the inkwell, and slowly withdrew it. He stared
briefly at the blood-red ink, and a slight smile crept upon his reptilian
face, exposing his curved fangs. He brought the quill gently to the paper,
and his thoughts quickly became words. At first, Xiaos wrote slowly and
with purpose. By the end, he moved with a furor becoming of a creature
truly determined in his course. As he meticulously signed the parchment
with the final X, a sense of calm washed over him. Xiaos quickly read over
his words, and then nodded once resolutely.

Xiaos tightly bound the scroll, and sealed it with some wax. Normally he
would have a student or courier deliver one of his messages, but this one he
would see to personally. The message was far too important to him, and he
could not trust the task to anyone else. Xiaos stood up with a flourish,
and quickly thrust the scroll deep within the folds of his robes. Before he
could change his mind, he wanted to deliver its contents immediately. The
Council must be made aware of his plans.... His plans to become a Guardian.

(to be continued)




Writer: Teimhnean

Date Mon Feb 27 10:05:42 2017

To All Nordmaar ( imm rp )

Subject Liberations: March of the Smallest Feet II



The gate parted just enough for Teimhnean to slip out. The yinn guarding
the entrance noticed neither him nor Rhaelor. Given the belt of minotaur
horns wrapped in human scalps around the Yinn's waist, the private basic
had no doubt that there would be a fight on their hands had he noticed.
The yinn did not seem to mind that the gate had slipped open - instead,
he shifted his grip on his weapon in anticipation of the first attempt
at escape.

Teimhnean also knew that if they killed that guard, their mission would
be compromised. Teimhnean took position behind the guard, whispering the
words of an enchanted lullaby. Even as the guard spun around to hear the
source of the words, his eyes had closed - and in the blink of an eye he
was collapsed upon the floor - sleeping deeply.

''How's the old noggin? Rhaelor asked

Teimhnean grimaced his response as he rubbed the back of his head,
''Smartin' fierce'.

'Sneaky Mutt' Rhaelor rejoined. Teimhnean did not respond, he was too
busy trying not to vomit, and too busy feeling like an arse for not seeing
the Yinn that clubbed him.

The pair peered around the entryway of the arena before heading out into
the main yard of the camp. Thankfully, the charm of invisibility remained
for the each of them - and the carnage of the arena with its spectators
and the general din of camp forgave the sins they each imposed on stalking
silently through the dismal encampment.

Within the camp, Rhaelor and Teimhnean scaled the watch towers - using
incantations and ensorcelling words to subdue the Yinn that might over
hear their whispered conversations or make note of their passing in the
more solitary corners of the encampment. They took note of possible logistics
routes the Yinn might use to supply the camp, the obvious raiding routes
they took, and points of weakness within the encampment.

Teimhnean was relieved, for his part, that Rhaelor seemed capable in the
field. He had never known him especially well in Althainia. A fair amount
of rumor followed him, but Teimhnean well understood what it meant to be
defined by assumptions and the extensions of rumor - it came with the
territory of visibility and responsibility. Teimhnean also knew the utility
in assumption - why waste the energy in creating falsities for one's foes
when they seemed more than capable of designing it themselves. The trick of
it came in riding the words and notions of others, rather than letting their
words and notions ride oneself.

After every watchtower had been surveyed the pair had determined that the
protection of invisibility would soon be up. While they had supplies to sustain
the illusion upon themselves, they decided that those might be better served
by sneaking out a few of the captives - and so they made their way back to the
arena to liberate their kinfolk.




Writer: Teimhnean

Date Mon Feb 27 10:27:27 2017

To All Nordmaar ( imm rp )

Subject Liberations: March of the Smallest Feet III



They required some coaxing.

They had seen what happened to those before them that had tried to leave the
arena - flensed bodies and scalped skulls silent and grim testimony to the futility
of hope. Moreover, they All seemed a bit suspect of the disembodied voices among
the press of bodies that urged them to leave.

So the the Enchanter and the Skald worked their magics while concealed - charming
five of their kinfolk to quit their wretched fate and go home to their fields, to
their spouses, and their children. Among the dozens, five seemed a small number -
but Teimhnean knew that sometimes any number of lives saved greater than zero was
a blessing granted beyond hope.

They distributed potions to keep the liberated concealed.

They led them to the gate.

And as they were just about to leave, a Yinn charged out and screamed at Teimhnean
'Remember this day, lesser! For it may be your last'

They were made - he was at least. Before the blow to the head knocked him out cold,
he could hear incanting, the sound of many blades being drawn, and six nordmaarian
voices drenched in invective, promising vengeance.

There is always the usual startle - regaining awareness even though you cannot see
straight. Teimhnean spared no effort to preventing his sick as he woke up in the pit
leading to the arena, he simply rolled to his side and vomited scotch egg, milk, and
ale onto a stiff corpse. Slipping in the muck for a moment as he gained his feet again,
Teimhnean spared just as little time running towards the exit of the encampment. He
zigged and zagged more by stumble than by intention, hoping that when he made it back to
the main entrance he would find Rhaelor and the Nordmaarians they had rescued. Wiping the
sick away from his mouth, he cast his thoughts to Rhaelor, 'still there?'

'Yes.'

'try and put him to sleep' Teimhnean suggested groggily as he made his way to the
entrance of the camp. The sanguine spray and bloodied blades of Rhaelor and the freed
Nordmaarians confirmed that the notion was no longer a useful or relevant one.

'He's already dead' Rhaelor grinned back, already leading the rescued Nordmaarians to
freedom. They marched back to the city in careful silence - that they could not All be
saved weighed heavily on Teimhnean.




Writer: Chulric

Date Mon Feb 27 10:34:23 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Mon Feb 27 22:36:36 2017




Writer: Tirion

Date Tue Feb 28 09:27:11 2017

To All Althainia Knighthood Imm Siccara RP

Subject A Ghost in the Night 01



A Frigid Farewell
The winds whipped themselves into a frenzy around the
dark, bleak landscape of what appeared to be the remnants of
a farmstead. A single figure stood out against the darkness.
He was dressed in white robes and bore a lantern which shone
brightly, illuminating the area immediately around him.
The charred cinders of a house lay before the figure,
some tragic tale surely accompanied them. Perhaps this man
was party to that tale, but he did nothing except stare
silently.
With the wind howling, the figure took one last look
before turning away and heading back to a horse of deep
chestnut coloring. Without hesitation, he hooked the
lantern to a place upon the front of the saddle and then
mounted.
There was little light from the white moon to guide
the man's way, but the warm glow from the red moon provided
just enough light for him to ride by, and so the lantern was
extinguished. The horse was spurred on and it and its rider
disappeared into the night.

Next: Arriving in Althainia




Writer: Boof

Date Wed Mar 1 16:05:51 2017

To All Knighthood ( Devion Imm Rp Relgion )

Subject (Underhanded) Part I


Boof muttered as he trundled up the hill. The news he had recieved had
been appalling, but not at All surprising. He knew the Knights were up to
something. They always were. Meddling. Scheming. Boof couldn't stand the
fools and their recent assaults against his beloved Lord Devion's church.
He'd fought them off several times already, foiling their plans. But he was
just one goblin, he couldn't keep it up forever. But now their intentions
had been fully revealed to him.

"Gnomiez and their damned factoriez," Boof snorted as he continued up the
path. Not surprisingly, the doors to Gahboom were sealed tight, but
Devionites have their ways around such obstacles. Two gnome guards stepped
forward from the gates, their tiny halberds at the ready. "Toothpicks," he
thought to himself, as he rummaged around in his favorite Hand Bag.

"Whogoesthere!?" One of the guards shouted as Boof continued digging
through his pouch. A sneer appeared on the goblin's face, soon replaced by
an inviting grin. "Hello der gnomiez! Mez am simply here on a small
errand. Pay no mind ter mez."
His response clearly confused the bolder of
the two guards. "Youdidnot answermyquestion priest!
Whoareyouandwhyareyouhere??"


Boof immediately grew angry, but he didn't let it show. "Who am mez?" He
thought incredulously. "WHO AM MEZ!?" He was furious that his fame had
not reached these backwards country bumpkins, but his countenance remained
calm.

"Well now, dat right der iz a question fer der agez iz it not?" Boof
responded, his grin clear on his face. "Who are any ub us? Iz wez simply
der name given ter us by our parentsez? Are we our religionz? Or our
intentionz? Or perhapz we are simply our actionz here upon dis blessed
world wez am call Algoron?"


A far-away look came to the gnomes features, followed by confusion and what
Boof assumed was irritation. Before the guard could respond Boof produced a
letter from his bag (quite cleverly forged he felt). "Mez am Boof Rog young
gnomie! Mez hab come on behest ub der new Empress, Saelaira Renato."
Oh
how he loved to lie. Sometimes he did it for personal gain, sometimes for
pleasure, but most of the time it was for the shear joy of lying in and of
itself. He knew he could slaughter these two fools and bypass their
defenses with a word. But where was the fun in that?

"Mez iz acting as an arbiter between der peoplez ub Dolund'ir and der new
Empress young gnomie. Herz hab sent Boof here ter speak wit youz foremanz."


"... Foremanyousay?? Whatreasoncould theEmpresspossiblyneedaforemanfor?"
At this a sly grin came over Boof's face, and he merely gestured to the
letter with his prosthetic fist. "Iz All right der young gnomie. Herz am
planning ter uplift der poor poor gobboz in Dolund'ir and wishez ter make
some modificationz. Mostly on der sewer, but der are some other planz as
well."


The young gnome frowned and looked the letter over. It looked official
enough, it even bore a very well made Seal of the Althainian Empire. A
facsimile of course, Boof knew how to forge a good letter. The gnome
pondered for a moment, looking up to Boof and back again to the letter.
Finally with a frown he said, "Verywellgoblin. Youmayenterifyousowish...
Butnofunnybusiness!"


Boof smiled sweetly, nodding his understanding as the quieter guard opened
the gates of Gahboom Hill. "Idiotz," he thought to himself. Far too easy,
and quite according to his plans. Boof knew in advance that if he
slaughtered his way in, he'd be hard pressed to find his contact. A tinker
of questionable character, greedy, but not quite evil. Boof called such
creatures "fence-sitters", and they were his favorite pawns.




...to be continued.




Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Mar 1 16:13:11 2017




Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Mar 1 16:13:18 2017




Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Mar 1 16:14:03 2017




Writer: Boof

Date Wed Mar 1 16:15:16 2017

To All Knighthood ( Devion Imm Rp Religion )

Subject (Underhanded) Part II


He took the letter from the guard, and made his way into the factory. He
looked about the place, gnomes scattered everywhere, swarming over various
bits of machinery and gadgets. "Like cockroachez." He thought.
"Extremely useful cockroaches," he thought with a snicker. The works he
saw in Gahboom always impressed him. Boof didn't understand much of their
machinery, and knew that the foreman he sought could handle the job he had
in store.

The flinger launched him several levels upwards, landing him near the area
where they experimented with flying machines. He admired the look of the
things. Sleek, powerful, and perfectly suited for destruction. At least if
in the right hands. He continued through the menagery of machinery, taking
note of the effort All these tiny little gnomes put forth in their builds.
Most were so wrapped up in their own plans they barely took notice of the
goblin walking in their midst.

After a time he had finally snaked his way over to one of the corner
offices. Rapping on the window gently with his prosthetic. There was no
reply. Frowning for a moment, he looked around the place once more. Off in
one corner lay an almost completed machine of unknown design. One with no
gnomes presently working on it. Boof was clever, but patience had never
been one of his strong suits. He whispered a word under his breath and sent
forth a small blast of flames aimed at a canister on the underside of the
machine.

A loud explosion shook the entire level. Gnomes were running about
franticly trying to put out the flames. Just then, the door he was standing
at came flying open! "What'dyouidiotsdothistime!?" Cried a small voice.
Boof turned and saw what was easily the smallest gnome in the factory, but
with the stature of a man in charge. "Blastitalltohell!
Gettothefireextinguishers! Ifmypersonalproject
isruinedduetoyourincompetenceI'llhaveyouallworkingtripleshifts!"
At that
every gnome on the landing broke away from their respective projects,
running about to gather small canisters. Each one (Boof noted) elicited a
blast of water wherever pointed.

The small foreman frowned before turning his attention to Boof.
"Andwhatdoyouwant -goblin-." He said with tiny fists planted at his sides.
Boof smiled quietly at the foreman, taking in his features. He'd never been
the best at faces, at least not with other races. But, he was fairly
certain this was the one.

"Well mez dear dear gnomie... Boof hab heard der am a foreman here wit
great prowess at building tingz. A man by der name ub Fittin Wrenchbreaker.
Might dat be youz?" The gnome frowned up at Boof and barked, "Yeah??
Andwho'saskingreenskin!?"


Boof sneered at the pint sized creature before patting a heavy coinpurse at
his waist. "Who mez? What if Boof told youz mez was here ter make youz
stinkin' rich?
" The gnome frowned for a moment at this, and then slowly
returned the grin. "Wellwhydidn'tyousayso!? Comerightin, rightinatonce!"



...to be continued.




Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Mar 1 16:15:30 2017




Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Mar 1 16:15:37 2017




Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Mar 1 16:15:43 2017




Writer: Boof

Date Wed Mar 1 17:16:20 2017

To All Knighthood ( Devion Imm Rp Religion )

Subject (Underhanded) Part III


The office was a mess. Every corner held some form of machinery or
other, mostly incomplete. Books were piled haphazardly leaving only a
winding path to the desk. And the desk... Boof noticed, was in much the
same shape as the rest of the office. Papers towered in great piles,
standing, by nothing more than hopes and dreams.

"SowhatisitIcandoforyou... MrBoofwasit?" Said the Foreman as he gestured
towards a chair covered in papers. "Justmoveallthatnonsenseover...
ThereIsuppose, "
he said, pointing to pile of what could only be rubbish.
He quickly cleaned a small spot off on the desk before looking to Boof
expectantly. Greedily, Boof noticed.

"Wull mez great and powerful Foreman, Boof am in need ub a couple inventionz
ter be made. And it appearz youz hab already gotten one finished ub youz
own accord."
Said Boof, smiling wryly. "Mez am in need ub three tingz.
One! Mez needz pressurized canisterz much like der onez youz men just
employed outside. Two!..."
And at that Fittin Wrenchbreaker interjected
with a look of pride. "Ohyoumeanthefireextinguishers? Verywellmade
don'tyouthink? Myownpersonaldesign!"


"Yuh, demz iz der onez. Secondly! Boof am require demz tingz ter be
triggered by a pressure sensitive weight. Not much weight at all. Mez
needz demz planted fer safety in one ub mez Lord'z churchez fer... Boof
would call it safety."
He said with a yellow-toothed grin. Der hab been
an outbreak ub vandalism and Boof fear fer himz poor poor Devionitez should
these vandalz get -too- brazen."


The gnome smirked at this. Boof could see he was no fool. Tinkers had
always been renowned for their intelligence. But typically, wisdom and
common sense were lacking. This one appeared to have a good deal of both.
"Oh! SothegreatPriestofDevion seekstheaidofthegnomes?
Andwhyinblueblazesshouldwehelpyouehh??"


A menacing sneer crossed Boof's face at this. He liked this gnome already.
Clever. A potential convert perhaps? Or, just another play thing when
Boof's task was complete. He didn't really care which at this point, but
took mental note of it. The sneer continuing to spread across his face,
Boof said, "Ahh! So youz hab heard ub mez hab youz? Datz good, very good
indeed! Iz shall save a great deal ub explaining."


A slight frown twinged at the corner of the gnome's mouth,
"Youhaven'tansweredmyquestiongreen-skin." "Green-skin. A common racial
slur against the goblin people, "
thought Boof. "Wull... Boof must see.
How 'bout mez makez youz rich? And off just a little hard work. Hell, iz
seem ter Boof dat youz already hab most ub der technology at youz disposal."
And with that, Boof dropped his gem pouch on the table, spilling a
moderately large pile of faberge eggs, jewels, and gold.

"Half now, der other half upon completion gnomie-poo," said Boof sweetly,
and somewhat condescendingly. He had already seen the glint of greed flash
in Fittin's eyes upon spotting the treasure. The gnome leveled his gaze at
Boof before intertwining his fingers. "Thisisahandsomeamountofmoney Priest.
Sohowaboutyoutellme exactlywhatitisyouareneedingdone."


No nonsense. Boof -did- like this gnome! At that he pulled a rolled up map
from inside his robes. Spreading it on the table as best as he could he
began to explain his plan. Dis here am a map ub der church which am being
assailed. At dese four pointz here are der supporting columnz, "
he said,
gesturing with his prosthetic at four "X's" marked on the map. "Mez am need
youz ter take demz "fire extinguisherz and fill demz wit one part water, one
part sewage. Althainian sewage would do splendidly,"
he said with a sharp
yellow grin.


The gnome pondered this a moment before asking, "Whysewage?
Sureit'llputoutafire butmanwillitbestinky!"
Boof nodded at this, "Iz all
part ub der plan."



...to be continued.




Writer: Boof

Date Wed Mar 1 17:18:54 2017

To All Knighthood ( Devion Imm Rp Religion )

Subject (Underhanded) Part IV


"Andthethirdinvention? Youmentionedthree didyounot?" Asked the gnome.

A psychotic look came over Boof's face at this. Cackling he exclaimed, "Why
mez wantz a banner ter drop from der ceiling wit confetti and a message once
demz pressure platez iz triggered!"
The gnome frowned at this, but simply
nodded. "ThiscanbearrangedPriest. Whatwouldyouhavethemessagesay?"

Continuing to cackle, Boof replied, "Wull now dat iz fer mez ter know and
fer Gareth ter find out!"




...to be continued?




Writer: Radanora

Date Wed Mar 1 19:30:27 2017




Writer: Phoraer

Date Wed Mar 1 23:07:10 2017




Writer: Hitoya

Date Wed Mar 1 23:22:12 2017

To All Knighthood Mercerion - Nadrik Imm

Subject Atonement Pains


"You are mine and you will bear my mark so long as you try to deny that. "

The twisted words had filled Hitoya's dreams for years. It was common that
she would wake, drenched in a cold sweat and writhing in pain - physically
and mentally. The wounds that Malachive had inflicted upon her nearly seven
years ago continued to bleed, raw and swollen. No matter how many times she
mixed the tinctures and poultices, no matter how many times she washed the
linens to replace the used ones, no matter how often she limped her way from
temple to temple, they remained.

The world had shunned her, and then forgotten her, and part of Hitoya felt
that was only right. She had nobody to blame but herself and her own
weakness. She had no right to claim otherwise, and she had long since given
up trying to think of anything other than acceptance. That was the life of
one who was Shunned.

Reaching to the back of her neck, Hitoya could feel the slight difference in
texture where the tattooed mark of Chaos was inked into her flesh. She
hated the thing and had thought about covering it up with her Family sash,
or by growing out her hair. Something. But if she did that she would be
hiding from her mistake rather than owning it.

Her many, many mistakes.

Her breath snagged in her throat and she covered her mouth with the back of
her hand as she coughed and sputtered, a few drops of blood splattering onto
the bandages that would soon need changed. How many times, how many days,
had she spent like this, now? Too many, and that was likely what had
spurred her to reach out. It had been a desperate plea, and maybe a false
hope, but it was the only one she had left. She was exhausted from the
constant agony and a heart filled with guilt and remorse. Time was not
merciful and maybe it was finally starting to run out for her.

Taking a sip from the flask that had been left for her, Hitoya took a
careful breath and eased back down to the floor in front of the statue of
Nadrik. She shuddered a little as the memory of Neethan's righteous fury
rolled over her. He had nearly killed her. Sometimes she wished he would
have. Surely it would be better than the half existence she suffered
through now. Though, no... There was still a small chance, a small
particle of light that might save her. She simply had to find the strength
and the energy.

Reaching out to one of the books that Mercerion had left in her possession,
she carefully pulled on her gloves so as to not stain them further with
blood or the oily residue of the herbs. Before she opened the cover, she
bowed her head to pray, her thoughts rusty after having been out of practice
for so long.

"Holy Son of Honor, I beseech you this eve to hear my prayers. I do not
deserve your forgiveness for All that I have done, but I seek it
nonetheless. I seek to once more walk in the Light, in Honor, in
Righteousness. I seek to repent and to atone within Your Name, to cast off
the shackles of my past and be reborn within You. I ask for judgment, o'
Lord of the Purifying Blade, when You are prepared to send it. May I either
be found worthy, or may I finally be sent to whatever plane Neethan warned
me of so long ago. Strength be with You, Nadrik, in Your own time of
Darkness, and peace be with me to accept Your divine decision when the time
comes. Until that moment, I will pray, and I will try to find the strength
of the child that so long ago lost her way. Amen.
"




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Thu Mar 2 07:29:00 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Thu Mar 2 07:35:42 2017




Writer: Iscarianth

Date Thu Mar 2 09:49:30 2017

To All ( Immortal Roleplay Storyline )

Subject Far away from home ( Part 2 )



It wasn't exactly 'easy' for the alchemist to come to terms with the fact
that he was once more on the move. Nor that he still had no idea where he
was supposed to be going - though the latter brought some measure of ironic
mirth to the poor Elf. Afterall, his colleagues and masters at the Atelier
had never given him direction, so it -was- kind of appropriate that he was
now traipsing about through the forests of Arkania looking for 'something'.

He dutifully pawed through every book and map he could find, asking the
locals about Aversia and either getting a blank stare or a door slammed in
his face. There was so much mystery and consternation surrounding such a
simple word, that it began to pique his curiosity further. There was one
soul whom he shared his trials with and even she could not be of service.
So it was, that he took to the surrounding areas, looking through forest and
field, hillock and sewer, before finally winding up staring down a multitude
of soldiers who claimed to know something of what he sought.

It was a ruse of course, the keepers of the Bastille simply seeking to add
him to their over-full jail for questioning - it always seemed to go thusly
with him. Was it how he spoke? The questions he asked? Did he simply have
a face that invited the thought of 'Perhaps we should imprison this one'?
The alchemist might never know, but thankfully had mastered one thing in his
tenure upon that wretched boat: A phial of liquid so vile and noxious that
only the most stalwart would withstand it. Throwing it to the ground, the
area became filled with the smell of rotting fish, sulphur, and quite
possible offal - for he often forgot what recipe or reagent went where.

The resultant melee and confusion finally allowed him to retreat into the
nearby forest, light-headed and unable to do more than fall to the ground
with great and gasping breaths.

"Never again. Less fish. Wretched. Maybe light instead. Something to
blind."

No sooner were those words spoken than the poor alchemist experienced an all
too-familiar sensation. A strange detachment from reality - as though the
leaves swirled and parted before his gaze only to reform moments later in a
great 'prison' of foliage and dirt around him. Thinking it was perhaps the
trickery of one of the Marauder's magi, he quickly tried to stand but felt
the familiar weakness - the inability to do more than simply be a casual
observer as the world faded away and was replaced with darkness.

(Continued...)




Writer: Uruvion

Date Thu Mar 2 12:59:49 2017




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 10:53:24 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline Religion Drakkara )

Subject A Fine Meal (---PART ONE---)


Khalifa chewed thoughtfully, his jaws popping audibly as he powered
through the tough, dry cut of beef. The Highlord stood silently and still,
patiently watching the young enchantor. Unseen eyes peered out from deep
within the dark armor. Khalifa reflected briefly on what he had already
been told, but the effort expended by his chewing demanded most of his
attention.

He began to speak through the mouthful of gristle, then spat the wad of meat
onto the cobblestones. "Yes, Highlord, I agree, it is intolerable. To be
honest, I've been living off of mooseburgers from Arkane.
"

He pulled a foil-wrapped package from his satchel, offering it to the
metal-clad creature, and was declined.

"I might be able to help out with this one, Highlord. I have an idea... "




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 11:01:29 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline Religion Drakkara )

Subject A Fine Meal (---PART TWO---)


(Two years ago, on a farm near Shalonesti)

The young mage lay silently in the hayloft, meditating on life and his
future. The noonday sun stabbed intense yellow icicles of light through the
roof of the barn, splitting the darkness of the hayloft. Khalifa exhaled a
thin wisp of smoke as he watched the dust-motes lazily flowing in and out of
the rays of light. The hayloft was his, but they didn't know it. He didn't
rent the barn, his room was in the old servant quarters, a hundred yards the
other side of the house. He didn't feel bad about the tresspassing. He
wasn't hurting anything, the hayloft was just a much better place for one
such as him to meditate.

He heard voices coming from outside the barn. Raised voices. His young,
elvish ears put them at thirty yards from the door. "Damn. ", he thought,
"They're arguing. "

"It was YOUR idea to take on boarders, Shad, not mine. What do you want to
do, kick him out because you're paranoid? Forgo the blues he's paying us?
"

He mimicked the sigh that he knew would be coming out of Shad's lips right
now. It was comical, he thought, that his landlord was that predictable.
Khalifa had studied these two for the months that he had been renting
from them. He was unconfident, given to morose, pessimistic spells of doubt
in himself and his relationships with others. He wore this fear on the
outside, where it could be seen by all, like a giant bow in his hair.
Belina was well-practiced at using her husband's feelings as a tiller, to
steer him in whichever direction she pleased.

"No, " he exclaimed petulantly, "No Belina, I just want you to swear to me
that there's nothing going on. I've seen the way you look at him.
"

The young mage smirked at the whiny voice. The couple had reached the front
of the barn. Khalifa could see her, looking up at him with her wide eyes.
"I swear, Shad. There's nothing going on. It's only you, baby. " She was
telling the truth, of course. She had ended the affair a week ago. Khalifa
had agreed it was for the best, and the discussion he was witnessing
reinforced that belief.

Belina knocked her husband's hat off his head playfully, giving a smile.
This freed his ears, making his half-elven heritage obvious. "And you KNOW
I have a thing for pointy ears.
"

Khalifa laid back down in the straw, and listened to the couple as their
'argument' evolved into something different.




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 11:06:42 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline Religion Drakkara )

Subject A Fine Meal (---PART THREE---)


The quartermaster peered over his spectacles at the young elf, and
returned his attention to the parchment in front of him. "It doesn't say
anything about taking troops with you. Or a bodyguard.
" The quartermaster
scrutinized the slender figure in front of him and smirked, "You're going
alone?
"

Khalifa narrowed his eyes and replied, "Highlord's orders, sir. I'm plenty
capable
". He smiled thinly then, and continued, "Just fill my order and you
can get back to your desk.
"

The quartermaster sneered at this and glared at the dark elf. "Come back in
an hour, apprentice
. ", adding more than a touch of emphasis on the last
word. The quartermaster watched the young enchantor walk off in the general
direction of the High Priest's office. He muttered something unprofessional
under his breath that may have included the words "show YOU a damn desk..."
He glared at his stacks of paperwork and left to gather the requested
supplies.




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 11:18:15 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline Religion Drakkara )

Subject A Fine Meal (---PART FOUR---)


(One year ago, on a farm near Shalonesti)

The dining room was different. Belina had put the cloth on the table and
lit candles to dine by, instead of the usual oil lamps hanging in the
corners. The wine had been poured, and a succulent roast lay steaming on a
platter in the center of the table. It was surrounded by carrots and leeks
and sweet potatoes and a thin, flavorful gravy.

Khalifa prepared himself. A meal this fine meant bad news was coming. She
had insisted that the young elf dine with them, against his usual custom.
He smiled thinly and sat in the wobbly chair. Shad was already seated and
looked somber. Khalifa looked a question at Shad, who just shook his head
slightly and looked at the table.

Belina walked softly on the hard wood floor, carrying a loaf of fresh,
steaming bread. The rough looking crust and yeasty smell told him she had
made beer bread. His mouth watered. She set the bread down on the table
and smiled. The genuine warmth of her smile, combined with her puffy eyes
made him uneasy. Khalifa shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"We recieved a missive from my sister yesterday. They've been having some
trouble on their ranch.
" She slid a folded parchment over to Khalifa, who
began to read.

-Dearest Belina,
-
-It pains me to inform you that my husband has been killed.

Khalifa glanced up at Belina, who was moving her food around on her plate
with a fork, eyes downcast.

-He set out to catch the people who have been harrassing us and the cattle.
-When he didn't come home that night, I knew it was bad. The ranch foreman
-found him in a ravine the next day.

Khalifa stopped reading, and slid the letter back to Belina. "I'm so sorry,
Belina. What can I do?
"

She looked at her husband, who nodded at her and began to speak. "We are
leaving, day after tomorrow. Mel has two hundred head of cattle that she
can't take care of by herself. You are welcome to come with us. Two ranch
hands have quit already.
"

Khalifa shook his head. "What of the farm, Shad? "

Shad actually smiled at this. "We've been turning down offers to buy this
farm for years. Elves, Dwarves, Althainians. You'll deliver this-
" At
this, Shad produced another envelope, this one sealed and stamped with wax,
and slid it across the table. "to the High Priest in Shalonesti city. His
brother has made several offers on the farm. I trust you to handle this
sale, and tidy up any loose ends before you-
" He paused, and studied
Khalifa's face for a moment. "What will you do? Join us? Move on? "

Khalifa closed his eyes a moment and put his fingers to his temples. "I've
been with you for almost two years. I've been getting restless. It is time
for me to move on with my search for purpose.
"

Belina spoke up, speaking softly "Where will you go? "

"New Thalos. Verminaisia... Ironclad. I've been through New Thalos. I've
never visited the Arkanian continent. I plan to see a little bit more
before I make up my mind. But it is time for me to move on and seek a
purpose for my life.
"

"You will stay long enough to make the sale final? And to deliver the
payment to us in the Verminaisian territories?
"

Khalifa swallowed a bite of tender, rare roast beef. He picked up his wine
glass and swirled the drink around, watching it. He smiled at Shad. "Of
course I will, friend.
"




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 11:24:36 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline Religion Drakkara )

Subject A Fine Meal (---PART FIVE---)


Khalifa squeezed his knees together softly, bringing the dappled gelding
to a halt. The horse turned his head to the side and flicked an ear as if
to say "Why are we stopping in the middle of the road, foolish biped? " The
elf dismounted and led the horse to the side of the road. He looked south,
at his new home growing smaller behind him. "Ironclad", he thought. "Home.
MY Home.
" He smiled at the thought. He could make a life here, and unlike
his former, rambling path, here is one of purpose.

He methodically checked each strap and buckle from the bridle to the
saddlebags, doublechecking the quartermaster's work. He hadn't wanted to do
it back at the fort, and risk insulting the quartermaster further. He
grunted with surprised satisfaction, the quartermaster had done a proper job
in spite of being reminded of his station. Four weeks worth of rations,
wrapped tightly in butcher paper and burlap. One messenger hawk, hooded and
docile.

Satisfied with the preparations, Khalifa mounted the hourse and clucked his
tongue, sidemouthed, urging the gelding into motion. The horse was happy to
oblige. Khalifa considered his mission briefly, then began reflecting on
his first destination. They would be surprised to see him. Would they be
pleased? He thought one of them would.




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sat Mar 4 12:02:14 2017




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 17:09:44 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline Religion Drakkara )

Subject A Fine Meal (---PART SIX---)


(One year ago, Verminasian Territories)

Belina sat on the front porch, swinging slowly, watching the sunset. She was
exhausted- running a ranch is hard work. She sipped her tea and admired the
view. It was still new to her, she'd been here almost three weeks. When she
saw the dust in the distance, she knew immediately that it was Khalifa,
coming with their money. Khalifa, who still stirred her feelings up every
time she thought of him.

---

Khalifa slowed the horse so he could get a better look at the sign. It was
written in the Verminasian language, which he could almost read and hadn't
yet learned to speak. The words were strange, but then again this land was
strange to him. It was poor country. It was a stark contrast from the
decadence he had witnessed in the capitol city of Verminasia. He had passed
through poverty-stricken villages full of dirty, ugly people who stared
hatefully at him as he passed. They eyed the heavy saddlebags and glanced at
each other. Most of these towns had corpses, in various states of decay,
hanging from a noose in the square, or rotting away in stocks in front of the
courthouse. That, at least, was similair to the capitol. The smell was
awful.

At the bottom of the sign, written in common:
"Jaeyne's Gambling house."
"Outsiders Unwelcome."

Khalifa felt the relief wash over him. He was almost there! According to
the directions Shad had given him, he was nearing the back property line of
the large ranch. He consulted the written directions and mumbled them aloud:
"Continue one half mile past Jaeyne's and turn right on the dirt road."
He nudged the horse into action, looking ahead toward the barely-discernable
dirt road he would be turning onto. He traced the road a mile or so off to
east to a hilltop where he could barely make out the outline of a home in the
approaching gloom. Almost dark, and there it is. Was that it? It certainly
appeared so, with the large herd he could see grazing between him and the
home. He thought he could hear church bells in the distance.




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 17:13:51 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline Religion Drakkara )

Subject A Fine Meal (---PART SEVEN---)


(One year ago, Verminasian Territories)

Belina ran to the far end of the porch and yanked on the large, cast-iron
dinner bell. She couldn't hide her excitement. Mel and Shad ran outside
and the door slapped shut on its spring. "It's him!" She was hurt by
the dark look Shad shot her way, and the puzzled look her sister gave her
but she couldn't help being excited to see him. "He's bringing our money,
and the wagon.
" Mel nodded as if she understood, and still gave Belina
a curious look. Shad turned without a word, and went back inside, letting
the door slap shut loudly on its spring again.

The rider had turned onto the long dirt road that served as the ranch's
driveway. It was definitely Khalifa. No other wagon was expected to arrive
at the ranch. Mel waited till she heard the bedroom door close upstairs
before she mouthed the words "Did you?" at her sister. Belina turned
red and she turned back to watch the wagon draw closer.

Upstairs, Shad was angrily putting on his work boots. It was sundown, which
meant it was time for him to stand watch. The crime in this country was a
high price to pay, in his opinion, for the beautiful view and prime grazing
land. He would be standing watch till one in the morning, and then it was
Belina's turn. The security was necessary. With the sale of their farm,
they would soon be able to hire someone to stand watch for them, and they
could perhaps have their sleep back. For now, though, it fell to Shad and
Belina.

He heard the wagon roll to a stop outside. The bearded half-elf slipped his
knife-belt through the loops and fastened its cold, brass buckle. He snapped
four leather sheathes onto the belt, and slid the knives into the sheathes.
Shad picked up the heavy brass lantern and descended the steps to greet his
old friend.

He smiled thinly, not letting his jealousy show. "Khalifa! How nice to see
you. I'm glad you made it. Will you have coffee with me before I go down
the pasture?
"

Khalifa frowned at the half-elf before saying, "Go back to work? Shad it's
sundown, time to rest.
"

Mel smirked, and Belina began to explain the situation to him. "Remember I
told you they were being harassed here? It's actually worse than that...
"

As she spoke, occasionally Mel or Shad would add something to it, and Khalifa
just listened to it all. Surely the lawlessness around here was something
that could be overcome. But how?




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 17:17:09 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline Religion Drakkara )

Subject A Fine Meal (---PART EIGHT---)


(Present Time, Verminasian Territories)


Belina sat on the porch, swinging slowly. She felt good, happy. She looked
at the charred structure in the distance and felt a pang of regret in her
heart. She shifted her focus a half mile closer and watched the cattle in
her pasture. Her pasture. She marvelled at this. She and Mel and Shad had
become partners at ranching now. They were partners from the day she and
Shad had arrived, but Mel had made it official, splitting the entire estate
into equal thirds. The money the two farmers had brought from the outskirts
of Shalonesti to the Verminasian Territories had bought another hundred head
of cattle. That put the herd at three hundred, give or take a few. One
hundred head apeice. She marvelled at their fortune.
The attacks had slowed considerably in the last year, thanks to her old
friend and forbidden love, Khalifa. She glanced at the charred structure
again, thinking "That's where he was when I saw him and rang the bell.
That's where I saw him when he left too, after he burned Jaeyne's to the
ground.
"

She pushed on the porch with her toe, rocking the swing back and forth. The
chain creaked softly. She took a drink of her iced tea and watched the hired
hands going about their daily work. Soon it would be time to start cooking
supper. It was her turn tonight. She smiled and reflected on how nice it is
to only have to cook once every three nights. Equal partners, what a
fantastic idea.

Her daydream was interrupted by the grumbling of a hen, startled out of her
routine by something. The sound came from the barn. Curious, she got up
and walked toward the barn to investigate. She had barely reached the edge
of the porch when she heard her sister moaning with pleasure. She gasped in
surprise, immediately recalling how noticibally chipper her husband had been
for the last couple of months. She stepped back into the shade of the porch
and began to think, furiously. What would she do? Why would her sister do
that to her? Why would- No, she knew why Shad would. How could she blame
him after she and Khalifa had done the same thing?

Her thoughts were interrupted by another familiar sound coming from the
house.




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 17:21:41 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline Religion Drakkara )

Subject A Fine Meal (---PART NINE---)


(One year ago, Verminasian Territories)

Khalifa was silent. They had described the living hell they had been going
through in detail, in the most optimistic way possible. It weighed heavily
on him that his friends were under this kind of stress. "So every night,
you patrol till one o'clock...
" Shad nodded, the bags under his eyes more
obvious now that Khalifa knew the story. "And after one-" "We take
turns
", Mel said quietly, as Belina nodded.

The coffee was gone, and Shad was standing up to go make his rounds. Khalifa
exhaled slowly, processing the new information. Belina stood and put her
hand on Khalifa's shoulder. "I'm going to sleep. One comes early."
He nodded at her and stood to join Shad. He knew of his friend's unspoken
suspicion, and always did his best to put Shad at ease. He couldn't bring
himself to regret their affair- Belina was a fantastic person, but he would
always regret hurting his friend.

"I'll join you awhile." He smiled warmly at his friend, who nodded,
relieved, and said "Thanks, Khalifa."

"Patrol" consisted of alternately walking the fenceline between the ranch
and the gambling house, and watching the raucous place from behind the
henhouse- the closest cover to the shady establishment. "If you know the
trouble comes from here-
", the dark elf whispered, "Why can't we do
something about it?
" Khalifa was leaning on the fencepost, staring
intently at the horses tied to the rail outside the gambling house.

Shad blinked, not understanding. "There's no real law out here. The
Sheriff won't touch it. We don't want to provoke them any more, it's better
if we just watch out.
"

Khalifa remained silent. His friend was naiive. Better not to pursue this
any further with him. He changed the subject. "I'll take Belina's watch
tonight. You go to bed.
"

Shad stared at him for a minute. "Thank you, friend".




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 17:25:36 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline Religion Drakkara )

Subject A Fine Meal (---PART TEN---)


(One year ago, Verminasian Territories)

Khalifa leaned against the post and watched his friend become one with the
shadows as he walked back toward the house. He would rid his friend of this
headache, and then they would be even for what Khalifa had taken from him at
their old home. Khalifa was sure that Shad knew about their earlier affair.
He had suspected it for a long time, but something was different in his
friend's eyes now. The dark elf turned his attention back to Jaeyne's
Gambling House. It was just another bar. "Just because they throw craps
in the back, doesn't make it a casino.
", he thought. "And I know all
about bars.
" It was late enough that no one new would be coming, and too
early for the rowdy clientele to be leaving. Khalifa hastily formed a plan.

He returned quickly and quietly to the barn, and having been a farmhand for
hire before, he wasted no time finding the items he required. With the knife
in its scabbard, the rope hanging from his shoulder, and three glass jars of
lamp oil clanging together in his bag.

---

The old mare was tired. The stupid bipeds were inside, drinking the smelly
poison. She stomped her feet and whickered softly. Her large brown eyes
blinked as she surveyed the moonlit landscape. The creatures wouldn't be
coming out for another couple of hours. In the meantime, she would sit here,
hitched to this stupid post, staring at the wall. She heard a sound and
turned her head. Another biped. Small, and hooded. Sneaking quietly and
carefully. She stomped again, as if to say hi. The strange little creature
approached her and held out a carrot. Her new friend rubbed her muzzle and
loosened her lead from the hitching post. Then he moved on to the others.
The carrot was tasty. She chewed until it was gone and watched her new
friend sneak up to the front doors. He pulled something from his waist and
used it to cut the tail-thing he was carrying into shorter peices, which he
then tied onto the door. He then began pouring some other smelly poison out
around the wooden foundation before returning with another carrot. He led
her and the others to the road before saying one of the incomprehensible
man-words. The man-word exploded out of its mouth into a ball of fire that
shot across the darkness and fully engulfed one side of the structure in
flames. The mare knew that flames were bad, so she was grateful to be free
of that stupid hitching post. She trotted away from the fire and found some
nice moist grass to munch on.





Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 17:29:14 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline Religion Drakkara )

Subject A Fine Meal (---PART ELEVEN---)


(One year ago, Verminasian Territories)

Khalifa stood on the road, coldly watching the flames consume the building.
He had tied the door handles together, but rope could burn, and so he waited.
When he was sure nobody was coming out alive, he retreated toward the house.
He could see a touch of pink on the horizon. Sunup was no more than an hour
away. Then he would either have to come up with an explanation, or he would
simply be on the road. He wondered-

"Nice."

He froze, his heart beating hard enough to make his body shake.

"A real problem solver." She approached the dark elf and whispered in
his ear, "My hero." She took his hand and led him into the barn.

Long after the last of the patrons had succumbed to smoke inhalation, the
heat and flame reached the storage room in the far back corner of the bar.
The first of the liquor bottles exploded a half hour before sunup. The two
in the barn didn't notice. Mel stood up and looked out the window. She
heard Shad stand up in the next room. The fire was roaring. She could smell
it from here. More bottles exploded.

Shad stared at the flames. "So that's what he meant." He glanced at the
empty bed. Surprised, but not surprised. He stood and watched the flames
until the sun came up. That's when he saw Khalifa leaving the barn. He
watched as the dark elf walked slowly up the dirt road away from the house.
He saw his beloved wife emerge from the barn, and he watched her, watching
him walk down the road. She brushed the blonde hair out of her eyes and
slowly walked back to the house.

Shad sighed and got back into bed, feigning sleep.




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 18:20:51 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline Religion Drakkara )

Subject A Fine Meal (---PART TWELVE---)


(Present Time, Verminasian Territories)

The baby was crying. She backed up, deeper into the shadows, looking at the
barn a moment longer. Her face was pale.

"Oh... no."

She turned and went inside, collected the hungry child and nursed him. When
she put him back down an hour later, she went back to the porch swing and
cried.

"Who's that?", Mel asked, startling her sister. Belina looked up, with
puffy eyes and looked where her sister was pointing. Approaching the burned
hulk of Jaeyne's was a familiar hooded figure on horseback.

Belina stood up and stared, her heart pounding. Shad came clomping down the
stairs to inquire about supper, but Belina walked toward the road, not
hearing him. She stood in the grass, still as a statue until he swung over
the horse, landing with a thump. Khalifa smiled warmly and nearly fell over
when Belina jumped on him, hugging him. He looked up at Shad, who turned
around, seeming indifferent, and walked back into the house.

"What is going on now?", he asked, and she buried her face in his
shoulder, sobbing softly.

---

The four of them sat around the fireplace. Belina and Mel drinking wine,
Khalifa smoking a pipe, and Shad carving absently on a chunk of wood.
The baby was snoozing. Khalifa had finished describing his mission to the
others. "But we haven't had any trouble since- since that place burned
down. I don't want to move.
" Khalifa looked at the others. Shad glanced
at him and threw the chunk of wood into the fire. He stood up and poured
himself a glass of wine. He stood in front of the fire and stared into
his wine. He spoke quietly, serenely and without a hint of emotion.

"Neither do I. It's too far to arrange a business deal, and we aren't
moving.
"

"I think you're making a mistake-"

Shad rolled his eyes and began, "Of course you do."

"A permenant business arrangement, Shad, and they're going to relocate us-"

"Not going to relocate me." He crossed his arms and looked at his wife.

"How many head would it take, do you think?" She was looking at Khalifa.

"Oh, one hundred, I suppose, would be adequate."

Shad looked at Belina, disbelieving. "How could she?", then he recalled
her red, puffy eyes when she walked away from him on the porch, and he
understood. She knew.

"One hundred head. On a ranch in my name, in Marauder territory? Under
Ironclad's protection. With a permenant business deal.
"

Khalifa, unable to speak, fixated on her bright green eyes, only nodded.
He couldn't see Shad, or Mel, or the fire. His world was one pink face,
bejeweled with the brightest emeralds, and topped with gold.

She smiled. "It's your baby, you know."

--- THE END ---




Writer: Musen

Date Sat Mar 4 18:34:36 2017

To All Conclave Admin Imm RP Kyri Nathalos

Subject A Venture Home



Beleg'luin Aelin, deep below the ocean, the dolphin eased through the
water, he's most comfortable in this form. Down to the depths, the crypts
of the Dy'Noturaz.

Musen hadn't visited his mother since her passing, his father a long distant
memory, only he remained. His sister, she's off somewhere studying, a
cousin preaching, but most of his family deceased.

As he approached the keep he phased back into his sea-elven form to meet the
Guardian with a nod, who allowed him to pass through, without a question.
The Crypt is underwater, but surrounded by an air filled bubble. He passed
through the corridors, seeing the names of many of his fallen cousins,
siblings, aunts.

The groundskeeper approached "Musen, It's been some time. Your Uncle
arrived some time ago.
" Musen looked him over for a while, then stopped.

"How is old Nakaro? I saw Ivona a few months ago, she's doing well,
shalonesti, you know? Bu..
" but was cut off.

"I'm sorry to tell you, Nakaro Dy'Noturaz came to rest with Thelessia. "
The groundskeeper placed an arm on Musen.

"Does Ivona know? Someone should tell her... I'm sure sh.. " Musen looked
a bit upset, looking onto the groundskeeper's expression, 'She knows
already, doesn't she?
"

The Groundskeeper nodded, "But Ivona's brother doesn't know, infact I'm
unsure he even knows of her..
"

Musen stared at the Groundskeeper, obviously confused 'Ivona didn't have a
brother, Nakaro never mentioned him, who is he?
" The Groundskeeper
snickered, "Right under your nose, he was gifted as a child, he was sent off
to learn magic, infact, he lives in your tower.
"

Musen's expression changed from a stare to almost wonderment, "My Tower?
The Crimson?
"


The Groundskeeper nodded "Well, since you've arrived, inform him he's
Nakaro's next of kin, and has to collect his inheritance, Son of Nakaro and
Thelessia Dy'Noturaz, Nathalos Dy'Noturaz, has been named next of kin and
rightful heir to Nakaro's estate.
"




Writer: Zorreau

Date Mon Mar 6 06:57:15 2017




Writer: Zorreau

Date Mon Mar 6 06:58:34 2017




Writer: Chulric

Date Mon Mar 6 08:40:59 2017




Writer: Chulric

Date Wed Mar 8 10:15:55 2017




Writer: Iscarianth

Date Wed Mar 8 10:38:31 2017

To All ( Immortal Roleplay Storyline )

Subject Far away from home ( Part 3 )



This -had- to be it. Right? It was musty, it was ruined, it was
old-looking. But certain things didn't truly make sense. The tower he saw
in his vision had been a vibrant blue, the one in Arkane was now a pallid
azure color - not quite the same thing, now was it? There was also no
reference to this place being 'ruled' by anyone. There -was- a keep to the
north, but it was empty, the Alchemist had event spent a pleasant night
within its walls, the courtyard yielding a number of strange-looking herbs
and roots - never mind the fact that when he had awoken, they were arranged
in a strange pattern.

It was less than a day's ride to the entrance of the strange cavern, and it
actually appeared that he was not the only one who had ventured here for
there -were- some signs of a makeshift camp though no signs of its creator.
Strange. The whole thing was strange, but who was he to pass up a very
obvious sign that this was the right place for him to begin searching? He
could, afterall, -smell- the musty book smell wafting from the furthest
reaches of the cavern. He desperately wanted to dig and paw through them
-all-, but he was not a bold one.

He recalled the all-too-common story and poem narratives of the over-zealous
adventurers who met their early demise, the cause ascribed was always "Death
by misadventure" and unless they were some great warrior or magus, they were
swiftly forgotten. No statue, no plaque, nothing. The thought momentarily
chilled him, for here he was - far from the comforts of the Atelier and
doing exactly what he 'thought' the masters had wanted.

What if this was All part of their rationale and plan? Lure him to some
fantastic location with the promise of knowledge and untold wonders, have
him die to some wretched guardian of such, and eliminate the trouble of
having to train and 'correct' his behavior. So it was, that he almost
turned and fled. He knew it would be the prudent action, wait for someone
to join him - wait for *something* else, but then a sudden spark grew within
him. He was tired of waiting. He was tired of always 'being patient'.
With his journal and quill in hand, the Elf resolutely stepped into the
cave's maw.

He was going to read every single god-forsaken page in the library below.
No matter what tried to stop him.




Writer: Euterah

Date Wed Mar 8 14:00:12 2017

To Darkonin All Dragon ( Imm )

Subject Into the Mill



Slack raised, yawned and summoned out of that primal ethereal plane he
stalked, to the Witch Queens bidding. Go where she could not, say what she
should not. Cat paused to groom fastidiously before presenting itself to
its owner, rather it would have stayed in the shadows of dragons, yet here
It was and listen It shall.

Aloof, she was oscitant to reveal what she wished. The Cat had to press,
will against stubborn will until she relented. The Cat purred, Our Will be
Done, yes, Master.

Slack ran along the ice corridors, making Its way through the plains of ice,
up through the Highlands, past their pastoral farms, slipping in among the
barn cats and catching a meal of hard bread soaked in fresh milk. Not
gourmet, but not at All to be sniffed and dismissed. The Black Cat finished
its respite and then made Its way to the Forest. Deep dark and full of
dangers, Its ears kept perked as It slowed Its pace, now to a mere mincing
crawl. The Wildlife within these woods was not something to be trifled
with.

Yet it came to an impass, a river, too far to swim and besides who among
Catkind likes to swim. It was no Tiger. To reach where Slack needed to
gain, would mean crossing.

The Cat shivered its whole self and pursued the rivers rushing edge. It
needed a Friend. Quite. Yes. Solution.




Writer: Mezlak

Date Wed Mar 8 21:51:33 2017

To Marauders Aeriset Mahazi All ( Tashio Imm RP Religion Religion )

Subject Hunting Traitors - Traitors in the Provences ( Heading Out )



Mezlak walked out of Raije's temple into Hammurabi Square and the armed
men in formation there. He had left behind the katana he usually carried.
It was a fine weapon, but for this deployment he needed to arm himself ready
to fight. This time he had pulled out his old broadsword and simple round
shield. He hadn't used them in a long time, but he had kept good care of
them, ready for battle at a moments notice. These weapons would be more
useful for this deployment.

He slowly walked towards the front of the formation. As he made his way, he
walked passed his son. Mahazi was to lead a squad of ten infantry men. It
was time to see how much he'd grown as a Marauder and a man.

At the front of the formation of infantry and archers were two knights and a
stable boy who was holding Mezlak's horse ready.

Mezlak slung his shield over his shoulder by the attached strap before
quickly mounting his horse. Rank did have some privleges. Atleast he
wouldn't have to walk All the way to Deception Bay and Fiddichport, the home
of the former Admiral of the Marauders.

'Brothers! We march to find those who supported those that would throw away
what we are. We march to find the enemies who still live among us. We
march to cut out the rot so we may continue to grow strong!
' Mezlak rode
back and forth infront of the formation as he shouted. 'To Fiddichport! '

He turned his mount for the gate and led the column out.

************************************************************************

Out of sight of the Fort, Mezlak pulled his horse to the side of the road
and watched as his command marched by. Led by two knights, two of the most
loyal, devoted and skilled warriors in the Marauders. The column was
impressive, if not for it's size, but in it's deadliness. Every soldier was
a veteran. His son was the most inexperienced among those on this mission.


He planned to take his time with this march. He wanted to arrive at his
goal with the rising sun, so the march would take two full days.

He was proud to lead these fighters. He was always proud to lead any
Marauders.

************************************************************************




Writer: Mezlak

Date Wed Mar 8 23:22:55 2017

To Marauders Mahazi Aeriset All ( Raije Imm RP Religion Tashio )

Subject Hunting Traitors - Traitors in the Provences ( The Night Before )



It was the second night since the company had left Ironclad. They should
reach Fiddichport, the capitol of Deception Bay, with only a couple hours
more of marching. Mezlak slowly made his way through the camp. Only a
handful of small fires were burning, just enough to heat food for the
hundred soldiers under his command.

As he passed one fire where Mahazi was sitting with some of the soldiers of
his squad, Mezlak motioned for his son to accompany him. Slowly and with
out a word they made their way out of ear shot from most of the men. It was
well known Mahazi was Mezlak's son, but Mezlak tried hard to not treat him
any more special than any other soldier. His son would earn everything he
got.

'I know you're upset over the loss of your mother. I've been told that I
need to spend time with you and your sister, grieving and bonding as a
family. How that's the proper way to move on.

I don't know how to do that.

The only way I've ever know how to deal with loss is to find a target, and
focus on it. Let that target drive you. Let that target be your focus.

We're followers of Raije. We're followers of the way of war. In war,
losses will happen. We don't let that deter us. We move ever on, seeking
victory. We honor the fallen by achieving the victory they fell fighting
for.

Mezlak walked silently for a time after that, letting that thought sink
infor his son. He remembered telling his son about the loss of Aviandha.
His son had taken it hard. He was angry. He wanted to hit back.

Mezlak had felt those same feelings. Now was the time to give Mahazi a
target.

'I'm making your squad the vanguard of this deployment. You will take your
squad out of camp before day break and enter Fiddichport as close to sunrise
as you can manage. Your goal is the manorhouse that the lords of this land
used. The man Traice put in charge here would have lived there. That would
be the seat of his power.

You will detain All the upper servants and any family members who remain.
Kill anyone who resists you. Don't risk your squad though. If the
resistance is to tough, wait for the rest of the command. Our goal is to
secure the town and root out sedition. Remember your tactics. Trust your
squad. They're All veterans.
Mezlak made his way back to his tent. It
was going to be a short night and long day. He wanted his rest. Tomorrow
would show him what kind of man his son had become.




Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 17:47:11 2017




Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 17:49:55 2017




Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 17:52:08 2017




Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 17:54:12 2017




Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 17:56:35 2017




Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 17:58:49 2017




Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 18:00:28 2017




Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 18:02:09 2017




Writer: Telthian

Date Thu Mar 9 22:05:49 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Fri Mar 10 12:21:24 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 10 16:02:45 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 10 16:05:35 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 10 16:07:38 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 10 16:09:02 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 10 16:10:42 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 10 16:11:57 2017




Writer: Trevnon

Date Fri Mar 10 20:54:52 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sat Mar 11 07:40:21 2017




Writer: Crelius

Date Sat Mar 11 11:24:13 2017




Writer: Niskerist

Date Sat Mar 11 15:08:58 2017




Writer: Benthic

Date Sun Mar 12 00:05:45 2017

To All Shalonesti Zola ( IMM Mencius Taliena RP )

Subject Boredom and its Consequences



Benthic awakens, seeking destruction and or an adversary. Simple words
from Zola lead him to a decision... Lite the Shalonesti Forest on fire.
Benthic contacts Zola for a nexus to the forest and Kahlyn for a fiery lite
souce. Both given with a few moments. Benthic and Kahlyn both enter a
portal risen from Zola straight to the Shalonesti forest. As soon as
Benthic enters, throws a lit lantern at a tree... Watching it engulf into
flames. Benthic smiles and nods as he watches as the flames slowly move
from tree to tree engulfing and destroying All that it comes into contact
with.

Benthic mutters to himself "How enjoyable. " as he watches the flames
slowly then quickly spread




Writer: Uruvion

Date Sun Mar 12 01:14:48 2017

To All Benthic Shalonesti Zola ( Imm Rp Religion Zandreya )

Subject Consequences of Boredom



He sniffed the air while his brow furrowed. The familiar scent of smoke
and flame filled his nostils.

There was a fire somewhere but it wasn't in the hall.

He glanced at the marking on his arm then slipped on his duster, put his
gloves on, and pulled the brim of his hat down some over his eyes. A low
growl of aggitation came from his chest as he stepped out the doors of the
hall.

He saw the flames dancing in the woods and the smoke rising to the sky. He
called some elves out and with them he got to work putting out the blaze.

In the distance he heard laughing and what he thought was Zola.

This wasn't like Zola, but Uruvion knew the Cardinal could persuade someone
to do this, and the elf would find out who.

Now, the Eldritch knew that fire can cleanse, bring forth new life. Trees
would be planted in place of the charred ones, the ground made anew with
fauna. They didn't win, whoever it was.




Writer: Zola

Date Sun Mar 12 01:57:42 2017

To All Benthic Kahlyn Uruvion Abaddon Bloodlust Shalonesti Immortals Fatale Mencius Zandreya Taliena

Subject X Beautiful Burning X


"Burn it all," he commanded, his hollow voice echoing through the woods.

From his perch on the hillside, Zola watched them work, leaning on his
scythe for support. Cold wind rustled through the tree leaves as the
brothers began to light their fires, dousing trees in oil and setting them
ablaze. Within moments, the conflagration was spreading. It was enough to
bring a twisted smile to the face behind his mask.

The fire wouldn't spread very far, he knew. Already he could see the elven
people moving to prevent such. Druids in the region were helping them.
Even if none of them did, the forest was too big and too old to die to a
simple fire lit by two zealots, no matter how enthusiastic. It would leave
a nasty scar, however, for at least a few years time. A mark, and a
reminder, of work still yet to be done.

Turning his head, Zola caught sight of the sky lightening on the horizon.
Dawn was coming. His work here was done for now, and with a prayer,
vanished into the smoke and shadows.





Writer: Niskerist

Date Sun Mar 12 18:34:22 2017




Writer: Kabal

Date Sun Mar 12 22:27:12 2017




Writer: Arreana

Date Mon Mar 13 14:55:06 2017

To All Teimhnean Althainia Knighthood Justice Immortal Taliena Religion Storyline Roleplay

Subject Not Alone: At Long Last


/ Not Alone: Alpha and Omega, Arreana, feat: n/a 07 /
| Arreana kneeled in the sanctum of the Church of Light itself. The open-air |
| temple was one of the glorious Wonders of the world. Beneath its shelter |
| lives had been changed and transformed. People wedded, mourned, converted, |
| celebrated, and sought help beneath the towering pillars and the small roof |
| that provided the only barrier against the elements. |
| |
| On the floor before the priestess was an ordinary-looking book. It was a |
| new book, by appearance, and encased in fine leather. However, there were no |
| adornments, no golded lettering, nor were there any designs worked into the |
| cover. It could have been a glorious book, should have been glorious, for the |
| words within were words divinely inspired by the Holy Family. |
| |
| However, such gaudy designs, while they may have been pleasing to the Holy |
| Family, celebrated the artist more than their patron or matron deity. In |
| time, if the book was accepted, there would likely be made copies which were |
| stunning works of art so wondrous that they would rival the temple in which |
| Arreana had prostrated herself. |
| |
| There was an important step before that could happen. |
| |
| The Bible, while divinely inspired, and utilizing the words of the gods |
| themselves, contained words which were written as mortal interpretation of |
| the commandments handed down by the Holy Family. As such, those words were in |
| need of the blessing of each member of the Family. With the words blessed, |
| they would be as though from the gods themselves, and the book would truly be |
| complete. |
| |
| Tears streamed down Arreana's cheeks. The effort for the Bible had begun |
| nearly four years prior, a year by the Old Calendar of reckoning. And the |
| task itself had been set by Taliena, indirectly, nearly a decade past. After |
| Arreana had been lifted to Bishop, she wondered what Taliena would ask of her |
| to do with her new responsibilities. |
| |
| Taliena's response had been simple: |
| Go forth and share My Love with All of Algoron, |
| not merely followers of the Light. |
| |
| The words were bold, especially given the struggles at that time to unify |
| the Light. Nadrik remained imprisoned and they were rapidly falling behind in |
| the collection of the shards needed to bring him home. Blame was rampant, and |
| no one seemed to be able to suggest the proper way to get things back on |
| track. But they were needed. |
| |
\ Arreana had done her part, now she waited for an answer. \





Writer: Kabal

Date Mon Mar 13 19:29:25 2017




Writer: Kabal

Date Mon Mar 13 19:30:25 2017




Writer: Benthic

Date Mon Mar 13 20:33:27 2017

To All Kahlyn Zola Abaddon ( IMM RP )

Subject Boredom



After a short conversation with Count Vyasa for a Nexus to Abaddon. He
realized he had two feet. He chuckled and apologized to the Count. As he
walked through the swamp and the fog he thought. He thought of All the
boredom that comes with being shunned. Without realizing it, he had made
himself into the Garden of Death. A place that almost seemed like home.

And so he sat contemplating what his next move might be.




Writer: Kabal

Date Mon Mar 13 20:49:32 2017




Writer: Kahlyn

Date Mon Mar 13 22:59:27 2017




Writer: Kabal

Date Tue Mar 14 12:23:50 2017




Writer: Ayrora

Date Tue Mar 14 17:22:19 2017

To All Verminasia Immortal Storyline

Subject The Winds of Change



Ayrora and Rosaeria walked into the stables and passed a numerous amount
of stalls before reaching and Braedans and Princesses stall. Rora could
tell that Rosie was nervous as she watched her wringing her hands in her
pinafore, "Do not worry both are very gentle you will see for yourelf."
Rora walked into Braedans stall and bridled him and led him out to tie him
off. "I will show you what to do as eventually you will be doing this on
your own."
She led Rosie into the next stall, grabbing her bridle and
handing it to her. Rosie reluctantly took the bridle and walked a bit
closer to Princess, shaking as she got closer.

She smiled at Rosie reassuringly as she pat the mare on the chest, the mare
lowered her head awaiting bridle. "She is a sweet mare once you get to know
her."
She smiled at Rosie to calm her nerves. She showed her how to
saddle the mare. "Ma'am? She.. She is quite a large horse." Rora smiled
at her, "You will be fine." They walked out of the stall with Rosie
hanging on to the reins. Rora quickly saddled Braedan and nodded her head
at Rosie as they led the horses outside.

As the three guards arrived to join their party, Rora made sure the saddles
were snug. She walked over to the mounting block leading Braedan with her.
"Rosie, you can hop on the mounting block to mount Princess." She dropped
Braedans reins as she went to assist Rosie to get up. She looked at Ayrora
but followed her instructions. Rosie looked down and started shaking
nervously, "Ma'am?" She was panicking as Rora placed her hand over Rosie's
and offered a reassuring smile. "You will be fine. The first steps are the
hardest but you will get used to it, I promise you."
Rora passed the reins
to Rosie showing her how to hold the reins before returning to mount
Braedan.

Rora took her time teaching Rosie how to steer the mare and soon were able
to leave to Rashburne. "The city we will be traveling too is one of my
favorite to visit. The city was built on a cliff side and into the cliffs
caves. I am sure you will enjoy it also."
She smiled at Rosie as she rode
to Rosie's side. "Kick the mare on the sides softly to make her go
forward."
Rora had just finished telling her when Rosie kicked the mare a
little hard. As the mare trotted forward, Rora followed and caught Rosie
before she lost balance and almost tumbled to the ground. Rosie looked to
her in dismay, "I... I apologize." Rora could not help but smile at Rosie
and made sure she was alright. "You are fine. A little softer next time."
Rosie smiled and nodded at Rora.

"We will travel slowly until you are used to her." Rosie smiled widely as
they headed off to their destination.





Writer: Orbra

Date Wed Mar 15 00:53:34 2017




Writer: Niskerist

Date Wed Mar 15 13:19:01 2017




Writer: Niskerist

Date Wed Mar 15 13:20:14 2017




Writer: Chulric

Date Thu Mar 16 08:43:35 2017




Writer: Niskerist

Date Thu Mar 16 18:27:00 2017




Writer: Niskerist

Date Thu Mar 16 18:51:53 2017




Writer: Maccaria

Date Thu Mar 16 23:37:59 2017




Writer: Aeriset

Date Fri Mar 17 03:10:06 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline )

Subject Making A Monster I


Several months ago...

Aeriset sat in one of the taverns that sparsely dotted the northern lands of the
continent of Icewall. Her grey eyes, so cold that they burned those they raked
across without mercy or compassion, were fixated on a dented tankard of swill
that the inn keeper was trying to pass off as mead. She highly doubted that the
mixture contained any honey and if there were spices in it, she would have lost
those wagers. Likely she could have gotten something that tasted better if she
walked outside into the stable and stuck her tankard under her horse. The drink
would be warmer then, too.

Still, the winter had been harsher than she could remember in a while and it
was doing its job of warming up her insides while the fire in the hearth worked
its warmth into her skin and her bones. The stale sandwich of cheese and dried
elk meat was also settling into her stomach well and giving back some of her
waning strength. She imagined her bedroll out beneath a pine was going to be
less infested than the straw mattress that was waiting upstairs, but she'd paid
good coin for the meal and a hot bath along with the bed. It wasn't the smell
she cared about so much as the faint itch she was starting to develop.

The life of a wandering mercenary was far, far from glamorous.

The hour was late, closer to sunrise than it was to sunset and Aeriset felt all
the aches and pains that filled her muscles and joints. Her Viking heritage was
serving her well. She was tall and lean, but plenty of food and exercise had
filled out her form with enough muscle that she could turn the head of a half
ogre, depending on their own blood. She was hard lines and harsh features, all
of them emphasized by the haphazard cut of her black hair with its reddish hue.
More androgynous than feminine she was pleasantly left well enough alone, more
often than not mistaken for a man than perceived for her true gender. It played
in her favor, especially with the mismatched plate she wore.

Algoron was not quite as sexist in the North, where women were often equal to
the men from birth, but there were still jobs that only men were given because
they were presumed to be more capable of it. Aeriset gave a mental snort as
she spun the last swig of liquid in her tankard slowly. The last job had been
one of them, and she admitted only to herself that she could have used a touch
more strength, a touch more shoulder width and natural brawn. Even so, she had
completed the task and returned to claim her reward. Much to the surprise of
the traveling nobleman that had sneered when he thought she could not see him.
Likely he had assumed that her going alone would have ended in her death. Even
as he had assumed she was a man.

Pain lanced through her shoulder and she gritted her teeth, her hand gripping
the cheap tankard until it buckled a little beneath her grasp and she was
forced to stop or crush the tankard completely. Instead, she waited for the
burning flare to pass and then drained the last of the swill, leaving tankard
and plate on the table. Likely they'd try to get another silver out of her for
ruining a 'perfectly good tankard', but she didn't care. It was hard enough to
get travelers to visit this far out, and they hadn't looked at her with disgust
despite her stench, so she'd make do.




Writer: Aeriset

Date Fri Mar 17 03:11:46 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline )

Subject Making A Monster II


Making her way up the stairs with her saddlebags, Aeriset took an inventory of
her various wounds. Couple new contusions, possible a mildly dislocated joint,
and of course the deep cut on her face. That, in itself, was a new one for her.
In All the years of abuse she had spent beneath her mother's drink fueled rages,
she had always managed to protect her face. Maybe she was getting slow as the
ravages of the battles wore on her body, or maybe she was finally starting to
find the opponents she needed to truly hone her skills and challenge her in
a proper way. Exactly as her...

With a grunt, she shook her head and pushed the thought into the back of her
thoughts as she put her good shoulder into the door and pushed it open. The
room, to her surprise, was clean and didn't reek of piss or any other odor
that would hint at negligence. She was the most rotten thing in the room. In
a moment, she closed the door and secured the latch then dropped her bags on
the floor. She got the small stove in the room going and set on the first pot
of water to get heated for the claw footed tub then began the process of
disrobing. Her mismatched armor was sat in a chair and on the small table in
the room to be cared for after the bath and before rest. She never left it for
long. One never could tell when it would be needed again.

Then the clothes.

Even in private, Aeriset hesitated a moment. There was no hint of pride or of
vanity left. She had as a child given away and destroyed any notions of such
things. No, what she hated were the memories that the scars brought back to
her mind. Every weapon and brand that had been turned on her. Makeshift clubs,
a few broken bottles. The weapons had been creative over the years. The words
all the same, the ravings repetitive until if she chose she could repeat them
in her mother's crazed voice despite her usual conscience efforts to make her
voice a bit deeper. Closing her eyes, she stripped quickly and poured the
boiling water into the bath, submerging herself beneath the obscuring steam.

While she let her body soak and try to relax some from its pains, she leaned
back against the support of the ceramic tub and reviewed the battles in her
mind.

When she had first arrived, she had still been with the Ninja's Guild, but she
had so very quickly found that such techniques were not suited to the harsh
and unforgiving cold of the North and the stupidly hardy races that tended to
hail from there. Nor did it suit her body. Tried as they might, the guild
instructors had never been able to get her to react as quickly, as nimbly, or
with the same sensitivity to the actions of her opponents. After learning her
lessons the hard way with multiple near misses she had instead given up the
slight leathers and the nightingale guise to take on the plate armor of those
in the warrior's path.

The immediate improvement had been a relief. She had felt comforted by heavy
armors and the feel of swords and axes for her hands, a shield giving her a
sense of weighted balance. From that point forward she had pitted herself
against every foe imaginable. As far as she could find work for, of course. A
steady increase in payouts from those that hired her, or the loot gleaned in
raids had put enough coin in her pocket to secure her decent weapons, fairly
acceptable armors, and kept food and drink in her belly. It was only this
most recent job that she had dared try entirely on her own. When the group
leader had found out she was a woman he had made a very unwelcome pass at her.




Writer: Aeriset

Date Fri Mar 17 03:14:24 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline )

Subject Making A Monster III


A pass he likely regretted as she had not simply broken his arm, but gone on
to break his nose and one of his feet. If he ever healed properly enough to
return back to the field, she would be surprised. A familiar anger bubbled up
inside of her before the memory passed and she was able to focus properly on
the process of reviewing her battle, absently adding more of the hot water to
the tub to set the water steaming once more.

She had been tending her armor herself at a blacksmith's forge a little south
of Darkonin when the events had unfolded. The blacksmith had been paid to fix
one of the buckles that had been crushed, but she had been making the new
strap of leather that would get fitted into the vambrace herself. Her belief
in coin only stretched so far, even as she had traveled as a nobody. While she
had toiled away at the task a man that had little business in the parts had
approached the smithy and dropped a large pouch of coin before arguing loudly
with the blacksmith about wanting his men to get priority treatment. Her eyes
had roamed over the two bulky men appraisingly.

Tall, nondescript in face except that they both had dark eyes and looked very
exhausted. Their armor told different stories. Merchant guard sashes, familiar
dents and scrapes that most often went in hand with ogre or orc weapons. The
two men kept quiet, did not even exchange glances. Disciplined. The weapons
at their sides were not fanciful but were made for the art of battle, and
the leather wraps on the hilts showed the sweat stains and wear of hard, long
use. Her eyes had narrowed with interest as she stood from her seat of no
more than a overturned log segment and approached the group.

Conversation had extended for some time. Eventually, the blacksmith had gone
back to work for half the bag of coin with the nobleman merchant's agreement
to wait until the work was done for others that had also already paid front
and ready. Aeriset, going by the name of Arvid, had secured for herself the
job that had put the two men into such a dinged up state. An orc bandit to
the north, blocking the road from Darkonin into the wilds. There was, it had
seemed, a small settlement there that was producing precious spices those in
New Thalos were willing to pay well for. Inaccessible by boat, the only way
in and out was the road that was slowly being widened and worked on by those
of the settlement and the bold enough merchant.

"Let me guess, you want half the payment now? So you can run off with it and
I will never see you again, or you die and the orc gets the money?" the man
had challenged her.

She had not even given him a snort in return. It was a common enough argument,
especially from those whose lives revolved around making smart deals and were
interested mostly in deals that benefited them above others.

"A supply of food for the way there, and you cover the repair cost of my few
pieces. No more than fifteen gold in all. Paltry coin for someone of your
obvious skill as a trader," she had said, the compliment doing well to coax
the merchant into a better mood for bargaining. "That is what I want to go out
and find this orc for you. When I return with its head, we can discuss the rest
of the payment."




Writer: Kahlyn

Date Fri Mar 17 07:32:27 2017




Writer: Kahlyn

Date Fri Mar 17 07:50:11 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 17 08:54:01 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 17 08:56:33 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 17 08:58:28 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 17 09:00:31 2017




Writer: Tirion

Date Fri Mar 17 12:55:09 2017

To All Althainia Knighthood Imm Siccara RP

Subject A Ghost in the Night 02



Arriving in Althainia
The city was unlike anything Tirion could have pictured
growing on the family farm. The closest city to their hamlet
was the city of Garethsford, a city that barely qualified to
being one, at least by comparison to the city of Althainia.

The most exciting thing about Garethsford was that it had
streets paved in cobblestone, something Tirion hadn't ever
seen before. There were also buildings that stood higher
than the two-story structures which served as the tallest
buildings anywhere within 50 leagues or so in any direction
from where he lived.

Althainia didn't just have three or four-story buildings,
it had massive structures of incredible size. Stepping
through the gates and looking to his north he could see the
towering heights of the palace and the arena for the Brute
Squad. In fact, most of the buildings were at least as tall
as three-stories, housing shops and living spaces All in one
location within the city which spread out over several miles.

There were more people in Althainia than Tirion had
imagined were alive in the whole world. Even as evening fell,
Tirion found that the busiest streets were never without a few
souls. And with the people came a smell. The streets were
cleaned routinely by janitors, but it didn't stop the stench
of the unbathed, or even the aromas that wafted from the
litter and other by-products. Tirion had jumped at one point
after stepping in something squishy. At first he thought he
had stepped in a horse's business, such wasn't uncommon even
in the hamlet to which his family's land was attached. A
closer inspection revealed that it was, in fact, human feces.

In the end, Tirion wound up at the Blue Pixie, near the
eastern gate, it was a cheery place with a warm hearth and
rooms that didn't look like someone had died in them.

There was no window in his room. Instead, Tirion stared
up at the ceiling, veiled in shadow, and wondered whether or
not the darkness would consume him in the night.

Next: Finding a Purpose




Writer: Niskerist

Date Fri Mar 17 16:22:46 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sat Mar 18 03:31:32 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sat Mar 18 03:35:19 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sat Mar 18 03:38:12 2017




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 18 11:26:45 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part one)


His hood was down, for a change, allowing the sunlight to reach his features.
In its place, he wore a blood-red knit cap, drawn around his ears. Bright
eyes alert and attentive. He surveyed the horizon, making note of the dark
storm clouds marching eastward from the Althainian continent.

He was unsurprised at how quickly he regained his sea legs. The Highlord
had asked him why he hadn't mentioned his proficiency at sea when he had
joined the Fort's ranks. Khalifa was still trying to come up with an answer
for that one. Why hadn't he? This was second nature to him. The sea was
where he felt most at home. Entirely unaffected by the rolling of the small
craft in the waves, his body unconciously and instinctively anticipating the
roll of the deck and moving with the ship.

The Highlord's orders were clear. He was to outfit the ship and make her
sea-ready, for she had been neglected in recent years. He was to train a
contingent of twenty sailors to crew the scout ship. Once trained, the
crew would be sailing a short distance from the fort to land at Kol-Garras,
and march to the T'pal territory, where he, with the help of the Fort's
cartography scholar, would be responsible for filling in the details within
the boundaries of the T'pal territory.

Some resistance is to be expected, the Highlord had told him. Those who
refused to swear fealty to Raije and follow the laws of the Fort were to be
transported back to Ironclad to be displayed as an example. "Shall I
drag them back in their entirety, Highlord, or...
"

"Hng. The heads will suffice. Leave the bodies where they fall."

Khalifa smiled at the recollection. This was his third full tour of the
major ports on the Cutlass, and he felt as if he knew the ship intimately
enough to train her crew. He glimpsed the mountains of Icewall peeking
through the clouds at the horizon, and eased the wheel to starboard.

Making a quick mental calculation, he double checked the results on his
sextant, just to stay in practice, and nodded in satisfaction. He would
be docked at the Marauders' Sea Cave in a short while, and tomorrow, he
would begin training the men.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 18 11:28:51 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part two)


Khalifa stood in front of the group of men, surveying them coldly. His
fingertips rested on a large book, open to two blank pages. There was an
inkwell in front of the book, but no quill. Some of the men glanced
curiously at the table, but no comments were made.

He spoke softly, forcing the crew of twenty to quiet themselves and listen
intently. "All naval training begins the same way. You won't like it.
You'll love it. Scraping barnacles is going to become your sole purpose
in life. You will wake up to relieve yourself in the middle of the night,
and be drawn to the water to examine the hull for barnacles to scrape.
Embrace it.


Twenty men scraping barnacles off the hull of the small scout ship would
likely take half a morning. Therefore, Khalifa had instructed them to
begin with the Raptor. The much larger ship had been stagnant in its
berth for much longer, and was heavily crusted. It would take them a
week, by his estimation. "You have 3 days. Failure to perform will
bring immediate dismissal from my command.
"

The dark elf pulled a marble quill from his pocket and uttered a strange
word. The quill sprang to life, dipped itself in the ink and began to fly
across the paper. Several of the dumber recruits stood there with their
mouths open, staring at the strangeness happening on the table before them,
but most of the men immediately sprang into action. Khalifa left them
without another look and boarded the Cutlass.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Rezekir

Date Sat Mar 18 11:57:48 2017




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 18 12:08:18 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part three)


Khalifa stood in the doorway to his cabin. The door was unmarked except
for an oversized captain's insignia, made of polished brass. A larger
figure than he would have to duck to enter the Captain's cabin. It was
dark, with one sooty oil lamp hanging from a hook on the wall. He uttered
a strange word and a bright ball of light appeared in the middle of the
room. He grunted in satisfaction and entered the room, a box of leather-
bound charts, ledgers, and a couple of new unmarked notebooks floated into
the room behind him. He directed it to the desk and with a quick motion
of his right hand, broke the spell, causing the box to drop onto the desk
with a light thump.

He sat down at the desk and began sorting the paper into different drawers.
At the bottom of the box was a large folded silksteel sheet. He pulled it
carefully out of the box and spread it on the bed, examining the printed
side carefully. It was a finely detailed sea chart, covering All of
Algoron. He uttered a quick syllable of apparent nonsense, and the chart
floated off of the bed and adhered to the wall.

Khalifa smiled in satisfaction and turned around, his back to the desk. He
fished a glittering white stone from his pocket and created a portal to his
enchanted quill, providing him with an excellent view of the work going on
in the sea cave. He watched the cleaning for a few minutes, and turned
to his desk, beginning to write. "Dearest Belina," the missive began.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 18 13:11:34 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part four)


Khalifa laughed softly. It was entertaining, watching the recruits learn
by trial and error. It had taken them some time and effort, but they had
figured out the proper technique and were making excellent progress. The
quill visible in the portal never slowed, making constant notes about the
work going on. It recorded those who worked hardest, those who slacked,
those who exhibited leadership qualities, and All conversation.

The acting captain cracked his knuckles and turned away from the portal
again. A folded missive lay on the desk. Belina's name was scrawled
across the top, in a fancy script. A wax stamp sealed the letter, the
letter K plainly visible in the stamp. He pulled a small notebook from
his breast pocket, and checked his to-do list. "Ahhh, yes. Supplies."

He would be taking the recruits sailing tomorrow, and he wouldn't leave
port without a fully stocked ship. An 8 hour training mission could turn
into a fortnight of naval combat and survivorship at a moment's notice.

Khalifa made his way to the munitions locker and looked inside. "Of
course.
" He reached into the locker and began clearing the cobwebs.
The acting captain made a quick note in the notepad, and made his way to
the galley. Expecting the same cobwebs, he began opening cabinets and
drawers and began to sneeze. Mold spores escaped from the cabinets and
filled the air. Khalifa excused himself from the galley and went above.

The fresh, salty air cleared the mold out of his nose and lungs, and his
eyes stopped watering. He stood at the prow of the shop, surveying the
activity below. He was ready for what was to come. Were they? He didn't
think so. Would he make them ready? Oh yes, he was confident of that.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 18 14:24:19 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part five)


(Seventy years ago)

"KHALIFA!"

The young elf jumped and sprinted belowdeck. "Sir, recruit Khalifa
reports as ordered!
"

"Tell me the state of our inventory, recruit."

The young elf began to stammer and reached for the notepad he was
accustomed to carrying in his breast pocket. Captain Calloway slapped the
small notepad out of his hand, kicking it across the floor.

"Did I put you in charge of the ship's inventory, recruit?"

"SIR YES SIR!"

"And you felt it necessary to trust this knowledge to this paper, instead
of keeping it in your memory?
"

"Sir, I-"

"Make a new count. What does the munitions locker hold? What does it
take to fill the galley?
"

"Sir-"

"SHADDAP! Get to work."

---

(Modern day)

"CHONSSON!"

Khalifa shooed the smile that attempted to rise to his lips. He could hear
the flurry of activity abovedeck as Chonsson scrambled to meet the acting
captain. A moment later a sweating mul appeared, out of breath, in front
of the dark elf. "Ch-Chonsson, reporting-"

"Stuff it, recruit. What is our current inventory of fire dust, and how
much more till the locker is full?
"

The bald dwarf blinked, mouth falling open, and stared at the dark elf.
Khalifa stared at the mul, coldly, silently, watching to see how he would
respond. After a moment, the recruit began to speak. "Last count, the
munitions locker was seventy percent full of firedust and cannonballs, and
it will take three more wagon-loads to fill the coffers.

The acting captain nodded, visibly pleased. "You will be the ship's
quartermaster.
" He turned and left for the upper deck.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Telthian

Date Sat Mar 18 23:41:37 2017




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Mar 19 09:18:58 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part six)


Khalifa snickered to himself, his bright green eyes dancing in the dim
torchlight. The sea was active, but not terribly so. The small craft was
rolling back and forth, helped by the acting captain and his prediliction
towards wild, sweeping turns and his knowledge of the waves. Every few
moments he bellowed an order to re-trim the sails, or to fire one of the
cannons at an aboleth, real or imaginary. The men were tired, wet, and
overworked. Six of the twenty were entirely unsuited to life at sea, but
the dark elf would see to that. Those poor souls were vomiting over the
edge of the ship right now.

"Liebert!"

A tall, extremely thin figure appeared within seconds. He looked to Khalifa
like a broom-handle topped with a wild shock of bright orange hair. The
young recruit leapt over the top step to the wheelhouse, and promptly slid
across the wet oak deck, landing in a pile against the rail.

"Caution at All times, recruit! If this was a battle, your slip could have
cost us precious seconds. Seconds is All it takes to get a lucky shot in
against your opponent.
"

"{nAYE, SIR!
", Liebert shouted through a mouth full of sea-spray. The young
man pulled himself up, saluted Khalifa smartly, and shouted "{nSIR, RECRUIT
LIEBERT REPORTS AS ORDERED!
"

"Those poor fellows over there, horking over the rail. They've lost their
lunch, and they need food in them for strength,
" Khalifa grinned wickedly,
"Escort them to the galley, and direct Hax to feed them one full portion of
extra-greasy biscuits and gravy. You will ensure they eat it all, QUICKLY,
and see them back to their posts. You are their babysitter for the rest of
this mission.
"

The redhead blinked, puzzled. "{nAye sir. Won't that just make them sick
again?
"

Khalifa turned away from the wheel, crossed his arms and surveyed the
recruit cooly. The boat lurched unpredictably, wheel spinning out of
control. Liebert shouted "{nSir, aye aye, Sir!
", and scrambled down the
stairs, eager to be out of the captain's sight.

Khalifa turned, regained control of the wheel, and once he was sure nobody
could see him, giggled maniacally to himself.

The dark elf had personally trained the entire group in every single job
required to take this crew out to sea. Everyone had been trained to cook,
to fill and fire the cannons, to man the crow's nest, and every other job
he could dream up to support a crew of twenty. Every so often he ordered
them to rotate to a new position.

"SWITCH!"

He watched them scramble, a few staying put, having already been selected
for a permenant position due to their aptitude. The lookout descended from
the crow's nest and slipped on the last rung, hitting the deck with a solid
crunch on his left side. His replacement scrambled up the mast with the
speed of a lizard racing up a rock wall.

"CAUTION AT ALL TIMES, GRAYSON! YOU ARE NO GOOD TO ME OR RAIJE IF
YOU'RE LYING UNCONCIOUS OR BLEEDING OUT ON MY DECK.
"

The dazed half-ogre hauled himself up and bellowed "AYE SIR!", before
manning a cannon. He wrinkled his nose at the strong, acrid smell of
vomit and glared at the six figures, All dwarves of some variety or another.

The shock-topped human nodded apologetically at the hulking figure and
declared "{nCome on, lads, time for another helping.
"

Chills ran down Grayson's considerable spine as he heard a high-pitched
tittering coming from the darkness.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Mar 19 10:06:25 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part seven)


They had set sail in the early evening. Ten long hours had gone by, and
the storm had blown over. Khalifa seized the opportunity to drop anchor
and reef the sails. The men were grateful for the respite. Most of them
were snoozing, some on the few available bunks, others on the floor
belowdecks. Only six remained above, keeping watch.

Torston, a mountain dwarf with a ruddy complexion and an abundance of coal-
black hair had managed to hold down his seventh plate of greasy biscuits
and gravy. He had decided the secret was a flask full of skullsplitter ale
from Thaxanos. He looked down on the sea from his post in the crow's nest.
There was no hint of light anywhere on the horizon. Torston estimated it
was at least three hours till dawn when he glimpsed a shadowed figure on
the deck, moving lithely and with purpose toward the starboard cannon.

The dwarf had taken several swigs of skullsplitter, notoriously the
strongest ale in the land, strong as whiskey, some say. He was comfortably
drunk, and in his most cogent and battly-ready state. His eyes, sharpened
by the alcohol, examined the figure and recognized the pointy-eared whelp
running things here. "Elves...", he muttered under his breath.

He watched the captain load the cannon with a double portion of firedust,
followed by wadding paper with no cannonball. The hooded figure giggled
and whispered something Torston could not hear from the crow's nest. The
extraordinarily long fuse sparked into life and the captain ran to the
anchor with unnatural speed, the chain ratcheting loudly against the wheel
as the anchor zipped up from the ocean floor.

Khalifa leapt expertly up the mast and untied a single knot, midway up.
The sail fell and filled itself with wind with an impressive sound that
would raise the ears of any sea-lover. The cannon-fuse was still burning.
The acting captain removed his belt and slapped it over a rope, sliding
quickly down the rope toward the wheelhouse. The unmanned tiller was
turning lazily, but steadily to port. Khalifa landed in front of it,
dropping the belt, forgotten, to the deck as he grabbed the wheel in the
darkness.

The explosion rocked the ship, and Khalifa felt the wheel lurch in his
hands. He kept the ship steady and watched fourteen souls scramble to the
upper deck, confused and bewildered. They had slept for ninety minutes
or so, long enough by Khalifa's estimation to drop into the deepest part
of the sleeping cycle.

Several of the recruits rushed immediately to their previous stations, but
about half of them stood dumbly, not comprehending. One of the dwarves ran
directly to the railing and resumed spewing his guts into the night.

"HOLD ONTO YER BUTTS, LADIES!", the captain shouted into the darkness.
He giggled quietly and then softly spoke a word in elvish that sounded
something like 'magewind'. The sails snapped loudly to their fullest and
the ship leapt into action like a horse that had just felt a spur.

Training had resumed.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Mar 19 11:21:46 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part eight)


Tiny slivers of oak hit the floor, one after another. Khalifa was not an
expert at whittling, but he had learned that if he went slowly and carefully
enough, he could acheive servicable results. He turned the piece over in
his hands, examining the serpentine design on the end.

Khalifa leaned the small chair back against the desk. A portal was open
to the main deck, so he could keep an eye on the happenings abovedeck. He
dipped his quill in the small inkwell that had been permenantly affixed to
the desk.

His report was brief and to the point:

Highlord,
Training is progressing satisfactorily. The ship is performing well, and
the men are learning. Will return in a day or two.
-KW


He folded the parchment and dripped a bit of red wax onto the face, sealing
the missive. He blew on the wax to cool it, and then stamped it with his
new carving. He lifted the stamp and admired his handiwork. A sprawling
kraken, with the letter K in the center, sealed his missive. He nodded,
satisfied, and stowed the stamp in a drawer on his desk. He retrieved the
hooded messenger hawk from its cage, and methodically affixed a small
wooden tube to the creature's legs. The tube contained the sealed missive.

Khalifa plucked the hood from the hawk's head, and gently tossed the bird
through the portal, watching it dip and then take flight, pumping its
powerful wings, propelling itself upward and in the direction of the fort.

The dark elf sauntered through the portal, appearing as if from thin air on
the deck above. The men looked up at him with blank eyes. They had been
training steadily for three days, eating in shifts and returning straight
to their duties, only getting one rest break per day. They were still soft,
but Khalifa thought they were hardening. Only one dwarf- a duergan, still
looked pale and green.

Khalifa made his way up to the wheelhouse, taking his time, surveying the
state of the troops. He mounted the steps and stood in front of the wheel.
He felt dozens of eyes on him as he drew in breath to issue his command.
"RAISE ANCHOR, RAISE SAILS, TRIM FULL!"

The Cutlass had been bobbing peacefully in the Roully Bab Binb, one small
spot of land in sight that might have been Zaven island. She began to move
smoothly in the light wind. The recruits were finally moving with a sense
of purpose. They seemed to know more or less what they were doing, they
had All settled into their particular jobs. Torston was the anchorman.
Liebert had shown surprising prowess as a navigator, taking to the sextant
like a bird to the air. Hax remained in the galley. Chonsson manned the
sails. They had sailed around Arkane, around Icewall, around Althainia,
through the infamous hurricane, briefly spotting the Almarina through the
storm. They had looped southward, along the western coast of Tropica, and
were now heading north toward Haven.

He eased the wheel to port, angling northwest, shooting for a narrow gap on
the horizon- that small passageway between Ganth and New Thalos. He
bellowed a warning to his crew before casting magewind and filling the sails
beyond their natural capacity. It was rather convenient, but only practical
in good weather in the open ocean. If one carelessly cast magewind without
having the rest of their route planned in detail, one ran the risk of losing
their ship on the rocky shoals.

"Golden Koi, dead ahead, movin like molasses!", the lookout yelled from
atop the crow's nest. Khalifa picked it out on the horizon. It was headed
to Shokono port, but the Cutlass would arrive long before the slow ferry.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Mar 19 11:47:41 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part nine)


Khalifa eased the wheel to port, tacking toward the shallower waters near
Althainia's northern coast. Shallow waters meant a little more speed for a
ship like the Cutlass, and her captain was addicted to speed. She overtook
the Koi, drawing a sharp wake across the bow of the ferry. Khalifa turned
watched the passenger ship bob and slow as it hit the scout ship's wake.

He smiled to himself and returned his attention to the horizon. The magic-
enhanced wind pushed them along the rocky Althainian coastline, past the
ports of the Elves and the Dwarves. Dead man's cove was clearly visible off
the portside when the lookout shouted again. "Shokono port ahead! Ten
degrees starboard.
"

Khalifa eased the wheel to the right and cancelled the magewind. The ship
was still moving at breakneck speed when Khalifa ordered "TRIM TO HALF!"
The ship immediately began to slow, as Chonsson carried out the order with
speed and precision.

"ROOGIN!"

The duergan hustled toward the captain, still holding his enormous belly.
Khalifa spoke softly, giving the dwarf explicit instructions. The duergan
grimaced, nodded at the captain, and stood at the wheel, holding it steady.
Khalifa made his way to the mast, where Chonsson was standing ready to
lower the sails, at the captain's command. The ship slid neatly through
the water toward the dock. Khalifa nodded at Chonsson, who reefed the sails
and strolled toward the plank.

"ANCHOR!", he shouted after a couple moments. Khalifa tossed a neat
lariat around the bollard nearest them on the dock, cinching the rope taut,
watching as the ship strained the rope to its limit, expending the last of
its inertial momentum an instant before the anchor hit the ocean floor.
He smiled at the lasso trick. Belina had taught him how to do that.

"TO ME, RECRUITS!"

A moment later the entire crew was gathered around its captain, who began to
speak. "Welcome to Shokono, ladies. Every job done well deserves a bit
of shore leave, so say I, and I will always believe it. You represent Fort
Ironclad here, ladies, and you will represent us well. We are not at war
with Shokono, and you are not an invasion force. Any of you morons ends up
in a Shokonese jail cell and fails to return to the ship is guilty of
desertion.
"

Khalifa stood on the plank, cooly watching nineteen anxious faces and one
less anxious. "DISMISSED!"

Khalifa nodded at Roogin, and headed back to his cabin.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Mar 19 12:25:39 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part ten)


Khalifa dozed lightly in his bed, waking up fully at the footsteps
approaching his cabin. "ENTER!" he shouted, freezing Roogin in his
tracks, with his hand raised to knock on the door.

The duergan opened the door slowly and approached his captain. He saluted
the elf, grimacing unconciously as he did so. Khalifa pretended not to
notice the deeply ingrained aversion to interspecies cooperation that was
the norm amongst the two races. "Did you get it?"

"Aye, sar, ah got et. Bae in tha galley, like ye asked."

Khalifa slapped the dwarf on the back and said cheerily, "Well let's eat!
I'm starving.
" The duergan followed the captain with his head down.

---

The grizzly looking duergan was comical with his bib tied around his neck.
Khalifa had insisted on the bib, nevermind that the dwarf's massive beard
would keep the beard from doing its job. "Ah serve Raije, Captain, ah'm
nae goin ta sissae outter this duty. Ah'll figger out how ta keep mae meals
in mae on tha open sea. I just migh' require somethin that agrees wit mae
belly ah bit better.
"

The captain stared coolly across the table at his guest. "Oh? And what
happens when we've been at sea for two weeks and we are out of rations?
"
The dwarf remained silent as he thought this question over.

"We fish, and we eat what we catch. Hopefully we have time to cook it."

The elf chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of delicate Shokonese sushi, still
staring at Roogin.

"Aye, sar.", the dwarf said, shovelling his mouth full of squid tentacle
before reaching for his flask.

"Wait. Has that skullsplitter worked for you so far?"

The dwarf swallowed the rubbery tentacle, wishing for something to wash the
taste out of his mouth. "Nae, sar."

Khalifa stood and reached into an overhead cabinet for a small bottle. He
laid a slotted spoon across a small glass with ice in the bottom, placing a
sugar cube on top of the spoon. The dwarf watched in wonder. Khalifa
poured a green substance over the sugar, watching it filter through the
spoon and into the glass. He lit the concotion and it burned for a moment,
melting some of the ice, diluting the absinthe. He slid it across the table
and watched as the dwarf downed it at a draught, without fear. "Holy hell,
captain, ah do nae believe ah've ever tasted such ah thing. Ye got more?
"

Khalifa smirked. He knew dwarves were famous for their alcohol tolerance,
but absinthe was an acquired taste for everyone, or so he had been told.
He quickly poured another shot for the dwarf, without the ice and sugar.
The dwarf drank it immediately and forked a large bite of sushi into his
mouth, smiling at the captain.

Khalifa watched him eat in silence, giving the dwarf the remainder of the
small bottle, and watching the ruddy complexion come back to his face. Once
the seafood was gone, he surprised the dwarf with another order.

"Take this-", handing a book over to the dwarf, "and go sit in the
dinghy and read it.
"

Roogin's mouth fell open as he stared in surprise at the captain. "Aye,
sar!
" he said, before hustling abovedeck.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Rezekir

Date Sun Mar 19 12:34:41 2017




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Mar 19 12:47:38 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part eleven)


Khalifa lay on his bunk, hands behind his head, watching Roogin through the
portal. The dinghy bobbed up and down in the waves. Roogin's brow was
furrowed, he was reading intently. "A basic sailor's manual" in his hands,
a few inches from his face, he read intently, slowly turning pages.

Khalifa smiled. Alcohol. It was always the answer with dwarves. He would
have to stock up on absinthe for this one, but it was a small price to pay.

He was ready to return to the fort. He was already beginning to plan the
excursion to the T'pal territory when he dozed off and began to dream. He
slept for six hours, and woke rested and ready. Khalifa stood and returned
to the galley, fetching himself some coffee. He headed abovedeck with his
hot mug and watched the sun on it's downward track toward the horizon. The
men would be returning soon. He had ordered them back by sunset and he
imagined they would be punctual, but not early.

"ROOGIN!", he bellowed. The dwarf nearly tipped the dinghy, scrambling
to his feet to stand at attention as he answered "AYE SAR!".

"Stow the dinghy and get up here. You may pilot us home." Khalifa
ordered, as he mounted the mast and began to climb.
As he reached the crow's nest, he looked over his shoulder at the road to
Shokono, catching the first predictable glimpse of his crew, trudging back
to the ship. They were moving much more slowly than when he released them.

Khalifa grinned and made his way back down the mast. The trip home was
uneventful. He watched the dwarf, chuckling to himself at the irony of a
creature such as this piloting a ship on the open sea. He was proud of his
accomplishment. He was finally confident that he commanded a capable crew,
and would be happy to report such to the Highlord. His smile widened as he
spotted the Arkanian coast ahead.

THE END




Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Mar 19 19:20:59 2017




Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Mar 19 19:21:08 2017




Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Mar 19 19:21:15 2017




Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Mar 19 19:21:20 2017




Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Mar 19 19:21:25 2017




Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Mar 19 19:21:30 2017




Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Mar 19 19:21:42 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Sun Mar 19 22:44:05 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Sun Mar 19 22:46:56 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Sun Mar 19 22:49:19 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sun Mar 19 23:31:19 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sun Mar 19 23:32:53 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sun Mar 19 23:34:25 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sun Mar 19 23:35:22 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sun Mar 19 23:36:29 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sun Mar 19 23:44:03 2017




Writer: Kahlyn

Date Sun Mar 19 23:52:30 2017




Writer: Kahlyn

Date Sun Mar 19 23:53:25 2017




Writer: Kahlyn

Date Mon Mar 20 08:30:03 2017




Writer: Kahlyn

Date Mon Mar 20 08:30:23 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Mon Mar 20 10:28:33 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Mon Mar 20 10:30:15 2017




Writer: Niskerist

Date Mon Mar 20 11:20:54 2017




Writer: Niskerist

Date Mon Mar 20 11:44:09 2017




Writer: Niskerist

Date Mon Mar 20 12:12:35 2017




Writer: Mahazi

Date Mon Mar 20 15:59:52 2017

To Marauders Aeriset Mezlak All ( Tashio Imm RP Religion Religion )

Subject Hunting Traitors - First Command (Part 1)



Mahazi heads back to his squad after receiving his orders from Warlord
Mezlak, his father. As he approaches the small fire, the ten man squad
stands. Everyone knows his father is the Warlord, but they have seen Mahazi
work for his position, knowing he has earned it. Looking at each soldier
under his command, Mahazi begins to tell them their orders. "We are to be
the first to go in. To take control of the manorhouse, and secure any
family and upper servants. We will arrive just before dawn, rest now, and
ready yourself, for it will be a long morning." As Mahazi watches his squad
douse the fire and make their way to their blankets, he hopes his nerves
were not showing. This being his first command would be pressure enough,
but also being the first chance at revenge for the death of his mother added
extra weight.




Writer: Mahazi

Date Mon Mar 20 16:04:33 2017

To Marauders Aeriset Mezlak All ( Tashio Imm RP Religion Religion )

Subject Hunting Traitors - Frist Command (Part 2)



After a short sleep, and a three mile march, Mahazi and his squad
approach the town of Fiddichport. The small eleven man squad made it just
before the sun started to rise. The easy part was over. Mahazi pulled a
looking glass out of his pocket, carefully examining the defenses around the
borders. "We will go in through the southern gate. Kill All who stand in
our way." His squad, All seasoned veterans, prepare themselves to enter to
town, and into battle. With the sun just starting to rise, Mahazi led his
sqaud, quietly approaching the guards, using the darkness to silently kill
them. While sneaking past houses with lamp light showing through the
occasional window as people were starting to wake, the eleven man squad made
it's way to the manorhouse in the center of town. Any patrols unfortunate
enough to cross into their path, came to a quick death. The squad did not
want any alarms to be sound, especially before they reached the manorhouse.
Just as Mahazi was pulling his knife out of the neck of a guard, he heard
shouts coming from behind. The town suddenly came to life. Ranks of
soldiers coming from every direction, the squad was surrounded. "Remember
your training! Show no mercy, for none shall be shown to you!" With the
sun climbing, the squad greatly out numbered, Mahazi and his squad readied
themselves, ready to face what some have come to call a beautiful death.




Writer: Boof

Date Mon Mar 20 19:48:43 2017




Writer: Boof

Date Mon Mar 20 19:48:43 2017




Writer: Boof

Date Mon Mar 20 19:48:43 2017




Writer: Boof

Date Mon Mar 20 19:48:44 2017




Writer: Boof

Date Mon Mar 20 19:48:44 2017




Writer: Boof

Date Mon Mar 20 19:48:44 2017




Writer: Boof

Date Mon Mar 20 19:48:44 2017




Writer: Kahlyn

Date Mon Mar 20 22:51:23 2017




Writer: Kahlyn

Date Mon Mar 20 23:01:48 2017




Writer: Niskerist

Date Wed Mar 22 19:25:48 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Wed Mar 22 21:21:50 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Wed Mar 22 21:23:55 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Wed Mar 22 21:25:49 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Wed Mar 22 21:28:00 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Wed Mar 22 21:30:21 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Wed Mar 22 21:34:42 2017




Writer: Fender

Date Sat Mar 25 10:47:30 2017

To All Wargar Thaxanos Plike (Kyri RP Raije)

Subject "Raise Yer Mugs" - a drinking song by Fender Mallet



RAISE YER MUGS!
-a drinking song by Fender Mallet

Raise yer mugs!
Raise yer mugs!

Ye ain't gotta go nowhere
'Cept down to the fight,
Jes' gonner be twigs there
All full o' bark, but no bite!

Raise yer mugs!
Raise yer mugs!

Ye ain't gotta go too quick
'Cept down to the fight,
There be twenty knights to kick
In them tin can suits, so bright!

Raise yer mugs!
Raise yer mugs!

Ye ain't gotta hurry
'Cept down to the fight,
Got Storm Keepers to bury
Cause they done died o' fright!

Raise yer mugs!
Raise yer mugs!

Ye ain't gotta run lad
'Cept down to the fight,
The manor is mostly jes' mad
Cause their heads ain't right!

Raise yer mugs!
Raise yer mugs!

Ye ain't gotta rush
'Cept down to the fight,
Look un'er ever' rock an' bush
Cause 'Lust stays mostly outta sight!

Raise yer mugs!
Raise yer mugs!

Ye ain't gotta speed
'Cept down to the fight,
All them clavers done peed
Yellow robes instead of red, black or white!

DOWN YER MUGS!
DOWN YER MUGS!

WE ALL BE GOIN' NOW
DOWN TO THE FIGHT,
AIN'T GONNA FALL NOR BOW
CAUSE DRUNK DWARVES BE FULL O' MIGHT!




Writer: Kahlyn

Date Sat Mar 25 13:29:26 2017




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Mar 26 13:55:32 2017

To All marauders of Raije and Ironclad ( Imm Rp )

Subject Planting festival (pert one)


His eyes drooped. The wait was the worst part of it. The warmth of the fire
did nothing to help him remain awake. His neck weakened as his concentration
faded, and his head bobbed forward. He jerked himself awake at once. The
dark elf glanced at the High Priest, who eyeballed an hourglass and shook his
head.

Khalifa sighed loudly. Why he was forced to wait so long between jobs, he
would never understand. It would be easier just to keep working, drink a
little coffee perhaps, and stay awake. His eyes began to droop again. He
flipped open his journal and began to doodle on the back pages.

"Lo?"

Khalifa's head snapped up at once. He could hear someone shuffling through
the temple toward the High Priest's office. His mind finally off of the wait
between jobs, he stood up. Perhaps a more interesting job had found him.

"Hel-looo?"

"In here.", Khalifa said loudly.

The old man shuffled through the doorway. He looked at Khalifa, appraising
the young sailor, who happened to be the highest ranking official within the
fort's walls at the time. The man appeared to be a farmer. His tanned,
wrinkled face was topped with a worn straw hat. He wore overalls of faded
denim. They were the dull grayish-brown color that spoke of decades in the
fields and thousands of scrubbings. He strode directly up to Khalifa,
looking the hooded creature directly in the barely-visible eyes, and asked,
"Yer aware that tomorrow be the Planting Festival, aren't ya?"

Khalifa, who was aware of no such thing, nodded agreement and made a mental
note of the fact. "Well? What sort of thing is the fort going to do in
recognition?
"

"I am unaware of any such plans... Raijefest is months away, that's the one
we are most interested in.
"

The farmer studied the hooded figure for a moment, searching for humor in
the darkened face. "Yer serious? No celebration at All in honor of
planting day?
"

Khalifa squinted at the farmer. "Old-timer, this is Ironclad, we-"

"Ye would risk angering the gods? Famine? Drought? Fungus? Bug
infestations, low yields in general? How are you going to fight a war if
your army is starving, hmmm?
"

Khalifa mulled this over for a moment. "I see your point, old-timer."
They stared at each other in the heat and flickering light of the fireplace.

"I'll see what I can do."

The old farmer appraised the young elf a moment longer, hands on his hips.

"Hmmpf. I hope you do." He planted his cane and turned around,
shuffling out the way he came in.

Khalifa stared after him. This was getting rediculous, he thought. He was
still learning some of the finer details of his enchanting work. He had
taken on the duties of an officer, if not the title. Now he was getting
dragged into agricultural issues. And what's more, he was to come up with
something before tomorrow? He could feel a headache beginning to develop
behind his temples.

---TO BE CONTINUED---




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Mar 26 14:43:31 2017

To All marauders of Raije and Ironclad ( Imm Rp )

Subject Planting festival (part two)


Khalifa awoke on planting day and wandered around the fort. The place was
deserted, no-one of importance was anywhere to be seen. Oh, the usual
vendors and peacekeepers, but no-one well known. "Hmmmpf" He supposed
he could get his green thumb going after all- he had an idea.

He stood on a watchtower, looking at the lay of the land west of the fort.
He held his journal out in front of him in his left hand, flat on his palm
like a painter would hold his pallette. He gazed at the land and allowed
his write hand to glide lightly over the journal, sketching the basic lay
of the land. He then held the journal up in front of his face and added a
row of XXX here, and another one there. A third over here... He stood back
and admired the portrait. Tactical shrubbery, he thought. It was as good
a name as any.

---

The dark elf knelt in the grass surrounded by rusty gardening tools. The
sheepsnut bushes he had found were nearly perfect for the job. Dense, hardy,
and covered with razor-sharp thorns. They were named so for the fruit they
bore. A bitter, tough, walnut-sized stone covered in coarse white fibers.
The bush took hard, careful work to plant, and Khalifa had had thirty of
them to get into the ground. They would force any approaching the fort into
a rough zig-zag path toward the gate, slowing them down at two choke-points,
and affording the fort's archers more time to eliminate any potential
threats. There were three left.

He stood, knees popping audibly. He winced at the tightness in his lower
back. He wasn't used to this sort of work. He didn't particularly plan to
get used to it either. He admired his handiwork. First a funnel, then a
series of barriers made of sheepsnut. They would be effective come reap,
and fully grown in a year or two. He got back to work, planting the last
of the bushes. He stood and emptied his canteen on the last bush.

Khalifa put his hands behind his back and stretched. This brought on a yawn.

"So much for a festival."


-The end-




Writer: Khalifa

Date Mon Mar 27 19:41:32 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject **T'pal Mal** (Part one)


The Cutlass glided slowly past the dock, and our commander, the acting
Captain, Sailor Khalifa le Kraken did his fancy lariat trick again, much to
the amusement and cheering of the troops. Khalifa knew a thing or two of
the benefits of high morale, and being a good looking, vain dark elf, he
knew a thing or two about showmanship as well. He performed a neat bow as
the rope reached its tightest and then became slightly slack.

Khalifa stood on the gangplank, blocking their exit. His arms were still
outstretched from his showy bow. His smile was wide, almost lunatic, and
completely genuine. He looked at his crew, his troops, his admirers, and
lowered his hands. He folded them in front of him and addressed the men.

"Soon, we sail again, this time with a real mission."

The cheers and the side-jabbing and the congratulatory conversation halted
immediately. The men stood, rapt, listening intently, wondering the nature
of their mission, the reality of it finally sinking in. They were sailors,
fighting for Raije, for the fort, for their Highlord. Their new mission,
their new purpose was about to be revealed. The excitement was
palpable. The elf's yearning for purpose had rubbed off on them, and they
were eager to learn theirs.

"We depart from here in a few days. We will sail eastward, following the
coast.
"

Ironclad's port was some distance from their capitol, accessed mainly by the
magical portals. They would leave the Fort through a portal, arriving at the
Sea Cave on the northern shore. Then they would sail around the coast and
toward the Fort itself.

"We will sail eastward along the coast, to approximately the opposite end
of the continent from where we are now. Kol'gosh Port, in the Kol-Garras
territory is where we dock.
"

A low murmur spread through the men. They knew the Highlord was interested
in regaining control of All the Fort's territories. This sounded like a
boring scouting mission, but they'd also heard rumors of potential
resistance, which was exciting. The general consensus was that it would be
good practice for a real invasion. The men were pleased.

"When we arrive at Kol'gosh, we march north through Kol-Garras, almost to
Wolverhylle, then we hook to the west to the northermost point of T'pal Mal.
I believe this will be high enough ground to begin a detailed plan to scout
the territory. We've All heard the rumors, we know there is an unknown
amount of resistance to be expected. We will treat this as we would a
scouting mission in a foreign land. Liebert here is a cartography scholar.
We will be creating the only detailed map of this territory. This-"
Khalifa shook the paper map he held in his left hand. "- is the only
known map of T'pal Mal, and of course, All we have is a boundary line inside
the Ironclad Territories map.
"

The men were absorbing the information silently, storing the important bits
away in their heads as a soldier is trained to do. They were eager, by
Raije, they were going on a real mission. There might even be battle.
They were salty.

"Be here at noon, in three days. You are dismissed until then. Be over
your hangovers when you show up.
"

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Mon Mar 27 19:44:18 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject **T'pal Mal** (Part two)


Khalifa sat in the library, reading about the precepts of Raije. A
necklace, bearing the sigil of Drakkara, lay on the table in front of him.
The elf was reading about the concept of loyalty. Victory was next. He
was enthralled by the simplicity and honor of the precepts of the god of war.

Courage, Loyalty, and Victory. Not buzzwords, not a punchline, but words of
purpose. Khalifa was drawn to them. War was an inevitability, a certainty.
To be prepared for war is to be prepared to win a war. To win a war while
adhering strictly, nay, while following the precepts of Raije, now that
was an honorable goal.

Khalifa re-read a line and scribbled a note in his breastpocket notepad. He
thought for a moment and scribbled a few more lines underneath, before
returning to his reading.

It wasn't so much a question of "Would he follow Raije?", but more of a
question of "How long will he pretend to follow Drakkara while living by
the precepts of Raije?
" He thought long and hard before coming to this
conclusion, and decided that the gods hate a coward. "MEZLAK!" he
bellowed.

"I need to speak with you on a matter of great importance, Warlord."

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Mon Mar 27 19:46:34 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject **T'pal Mal** (Part three)


Khalifa emerged from the church of Raije, squinting at the noonday sun. The
meeting with Mezlak had gone well. He had declared his fealty to the god of
war, and generated a missive to be posted on All the public boards declaring
such. He was expecting to be visited by Drakkara now, since he'd begun his
attempts to gain the attention of Raije. He was prepared to be shunned, to
be denied the entirety of his skills and powers.

Khalifa was prepared to accept the consequence, the punishment for admitting
that he had chosen poorly. He was prepared to accept it because of the
understanding that he could not possibly have known when he chose his god
that eighty years later, he would mature into a warrior. He had grown from
infancy, believing that scholarship was his true calling. To study and to
learn and become superior through increased knowledge-

But no, he had become a warrior, was becoming an officer, a leader of men
in the service of Raije. He was proud of the journey he had made, proud to
be a new follower of the god of war. He had already begun to formulate great
plans in his mind for his future within the Fort. He believed strongly that
he could use his own personal strengths to glorify Raije, perhaps even to
increase the power of Ironclad to exert Raije's will upon Algoron, to settle
conflict across the globe with honorable battle.

Khalifa squinted in the sun, then turned around and went back into the dark
temple, resuming his prayers with renewed intensity.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Mon Mar 27 19:59:29 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject **T'pal Mal** (Part four)


Khalifa stood before the troops, his Drakkaran sigil conspicuously
missing from around his neck. He declared loudly:

"Today we sail! "

The troops began to cheer.

"Tomorrow, we march! "

The applause renewed, the whistles and verbal cheers becoming louder- They
could tell, of course. There was an aura about him, or perhaps a lack of
one. It was evident that he had lost the favor of his god, but the troops
already knew about that. He had pledged his life to Raije, it was evident
in his every move. Now that Drakkara had deserted him- no, now that she had
responded to his desertion, he would be eager to gain the attentions of
Raije. They were expecting, or perhaps just hoping, that that fact meant
certain battle for them. This was the reason for their vigorous applause.
That, and, it was a pretty good trick.

Khalifa allowed them their applause, his hands in the air, a wide smile on
his face. They were pumped up, excited, ready to take on the world. That
was just where he wanted them.

"As I told you before, we must be prepared to react as if we were invading a
foreign territory. But we are not invading a foreign territory. This is
Ironclad's protectorate, and the citizens there are our own. If there is
resistance, we put it down. If there is not, we treat the citizens with the
respect they deserve.
"

This was greeted with sober murmurs from the troops. They wanted an enemy,
and their captain was making it clear that he was not necessarily providing
them with one, and that they would be expected to use superior moral
judgement.

He continued to speak to the troops for another quarter of an hour before
ordering them to board the ship and resume their stations. Khalifa boarded
the ship behind them, turned and saluted the Highlord, who stood in the
shadows, nearly unobserved. He barely caught the glint of dark metal in the
shadows as she returned his salute. A neat about-face, and he was marching
purposefully toward the wheelhouse.

"ANCHOR UP, SAILS DOWN, TRIM FULL! " he bellowed as he mounted the steps to
the wheelhouse.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Mon Mar 27 20:02:08 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject **T'pal Mal** (Part five)


Thruk'tar leaned over the rail of the lighthouse, peering out at the silver
line between the sooty sea and the orange horizon. He puffed on his clay
pipe, inhaling deeply on the Arkanian Black tobacco. Thruk'tar the
toothless, they called him. He was anything but toothless, a mouth full of
jagged edges waiting to rend flesh from bone. He had one ten-inch tusk on
the left, and one broken stub of a tusk on the right, hence the nickname.

Thruk'tar bore the sigils of Raije on his clothing, on his jewelry, in his
tattoos. He had sworn All of his weapons and armor to the god of war, and
his stature was a testament to his dedication to preparation for battle.
His long gray hair was braided in cornrows, and hung below his shoulders.
His aged flesh wrinkled and hung in wattles in some places. He was a
veteran, retired from battle for ten years, an orc at the end of his life,
but still dedicated to Raije. He had volunteered to maintain the crumbling
lighthouse. A foolish pursuit, according to some, but it was an asset of
the kingdom, and therefore of Raije, and it was the closest such asset to
his home, and so, in the absence of any other caretaker, he assumed the
position. His favorite part of the job was the sunsets. He never missed a
sunset, even in bad weather, he watched from inside. He always smoked the
Arkanian Black, and always in the ratty old tavern pipe he had stolen from
Tull.

This fine evening, he was admiring a clear sunset on a calm sea. A classic,
he thought, one that adorned thousands of paintings around Algoron. Not
quite his favorite, he preferred the sunset of the approaching storm, but
this was a good one, he had to admit. It was about to get better.

---

With magewind, it had taken them a matter of hours to sail around the coast.
Khalifa, their acting captain, piloted them expertly through the shallowest
of waters around the continent. Khalifa stood at the wheel, hood up, green
eyes shining from behind the black cowl, scanning the horizon, constantly
making minute course corrections with the wheel. His cloak billowed behind
him as he navigated the windy coastal waters.

As they approached the peninsular region of Kol-Garras, Khalifa finally
allowed the magewind to fall, and then bellowed for the sails to be trimmed
to half.

The ship slowed from breakneck to a lazy, careless speed. Its sails half-
reefed, Marauder colors flying, she was a vision as she approached the
harbor.

---

Thruk'tar raised the spyglass to his face and was mildly surprised to see a
lone ship approaching the harbor. It was still distant. A small ship,
perhaps a sloop or even a personal yacht. It was too far too see the
colors, but he would soon- gods, it was moving fast. The monotusked orc
watched as the ship approached at an unnatural speed and then suddenly
slowed to a more reasonable pace. It was a scout ship, and the colors-
"Ha!"

It was surprised out of him. The Marauders were back. This was excellent
news. They hadn't been seen around here in ages, and some of the rebel talk
had reached even to Kol-Garras, an honorable land.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Kahlyn

Date Mon Mar 27 22:16:28 2017




Writer: Mezlak

Date Wed Mar 29 19:23:31 2017

To Marauders Mahazi Aeriset All ( Raije Imm RP Religion Tashio )

Subject Hunting Traitors - The Arrival (Part 1)



Mezlak looked upon the town. The remainder of his command waited with
him just inside a growth of trees within sight of the south gate. That was
the point where his son had entered just before dawn, so Mezlaks scouts that
had followed Mahazis squad had informed him.

Mezlak studied the gate and watched closely. He could tell the soldiers
behind him were eager to follow the lead squad. Now wasnt the time though.
Mezlak hadnt envisioned this stealthy approach. He wanted the people of
Fiddichport to know who was coming and who was in charge. This way had
potential though, and Mezlak had quickly altered his plan to suit the
situation. This way may even work better.

It was just as the sun was coming up that Mezlak heard the alarms sounding
in the town. He picked up his shield in his left hand and drew his
broadsword. It was time to make his move.

Move on the gate. Wait until we are inside to unfurl the banners. Ive got
something special in mind for our entrance.
The knights nodded then
mounted their warhorses and went to see to their commands. Mezlak put the
finishing touches on the spell hed been preparing for since he arrived.
This should get everyones attention.

As the Marauders moved on the gate, the three giant ogres that were a part
of his command began getting ahead of everyone else. A benefit of their
only having to take one step to everyone elses two, Mezlak noted. Oddly
enough even ahead of the ogres was a dwarf Mezlak could only assume was a
former battlerager from Thaxanos. He carried two axes, and Mezlak was
fairly certain the dwarf had drunk a half barrel of ale this morning before
the march. The dwarfs zeal for battle was catching and the entre command
was beginning to quicken their pace. It was time to unleash the surprise
hed been preparing for a couple hours now.





Writer: Mezlak

Date Wed Mar 29 19:28:54 2017

To Marauders Mahazi Aeriset All ( Raije Imm RP Religion Tashio )

Subject Hunting Traitors - The Arrival (Part 2)



As the Marauders neared the southern gate, Mezlak unleashed the spell,
and the gate and twenty yards of the wall erupted in an explosion of holy
flames big enough and loud enough to be seen and heard miles away.

The men needed no command. They could All clearly tell that was the signal.
And at once they All began to charge the gate, letting the Marauder banners
they carried fly and shouts of Raije! And Marauders! Being shouted over
the echoes of the explosion. The giant ogres quickly outpaced everyone and
made entrance through the gap in the wall, leading the charge. Everyone
except for the dwarf, that is. Grimdur Mithrilmane, Mezlak believe his name
was, part of the first company.

The explosion had the effect Mezlak desired. It had caught everyones
attention and was drawing guards to the gate. The body being thrown through
the air from one of the ogres was evidence enough of that.

The attacker came right at Mezlak, screaming a challenge as soon as he came
into view of Mezlak and his attacking force. The man was fearless, but
inexperienced. Attacking a superior force head on like that. Using his
sword hand to add strength, Mezlak deflected the mans attack away with his
shield. The swinging block was so strong and unexpected that Mezlaks
attacker was spun around, exposing his back to Mezlak. Then with a fluid
motion, Mezlak cut back down across the attackers back. It wasnt a fatal
blow, but the man would never walk again as Mezlak felt his sword strike
through vertebrae. He then switched his sword to a reverse grip and gave
the man a merciful death, plunging his sword through the mans chest as he
lay face down in the road.

Tohmahs and Bhohrs, the two knights, approached him. It was Tohmahs, the
senior of the knights, who gave the report the gate was secure. Tohmahs,
take the second company and sweep and secure the town. Bhohrs, take the
remainder of first company and regroup with the Privates squad, then
rendezvous with me at the Manor house. Let All know its the Marauders who
come. Secure All who throw down their weapons. Kill any who dont. But
bring me the captain of the guard and as many of the ruling family as you
can find, alive.


But, Warlord, you cant mean to proceed alone. Mezlak didnt notice which
knight spoke, he had his back to them as he stood watching his command
spread out and secure the area around the gate, archers taking positions
high up where they could control the battle with their arrows.

Mezlak sighed, dropped his shield and reached towards the gate, drawing some
holy flame left burning from his explosion to him and forming it into an
elemental. Do you honestly think Im completely helpless? Go. Do your
jobs.
Mezlak heard them salute then shout orders to their companies as he
bent down to pick up his shield and started off to the manor house.





Writer: Trysarna

Date Fri Mar 31 15:21:18 2017




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Apr 1 10:34:17 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject **T'pal Mal** (Part six)


"Watch me.", said Fjosk, tossing a pair of kings on the table. His
brother, Fjoll bellowed laughter while Throg'nir stared blandly at the
disappearing act that his money was doing in front of him. The trio of
bulky, mohawked Orcs looked fearsome, but they were loyal, peaceful
customers, retired veterans who kept mostly to themselves, but had also kept
the place safe on more than once occasion when other, less honorable patrons
became violent.

Fjoll emptied the pitcher of Eastern Lager into Throg'nir's stein, bellowing
laughter as he did so. Griz, the bartender, carried a new one over himself,
wiping the table down for his best customers. Thruk'tar reached around the
bartender from behind and grabbed the pitcher. Out of breath, he held his
right hand up in the air, index finger up, and took three deep breaths
before draining the pitcher in one large gulp.

The monotusked behemoth spun a chair around, sitting immediately on it,
backwards, the excitement making him twenty years younger. He opened his
mouth, noticing the bartender over his shoulder. He stopped himself,
dismissed the bartender, and began to speak. "The Marauders are back."

Thruk'tar leaned over the back of the chair, grinning openly. Throg'nir was
staring at him, mouth open, head cocked to the side. It was surprising, of
course, the fleet hadn't been seen here in years. "Bur'gol dur.", he
exclaimed under his breath. "Tell me more." The brothers just stared,
curiously.

A small crowd gathered around the Veterans' table as Thruk'tar told the
story. "They're sailin up to port right now.", he finished.

"Morgok. Let's go then."

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Apr 1 10:37:56 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject **T'pal Mal** (Part seven)


Khalifa stood at the wheel, watching the coastline draw closer. The sleepy
port of Kol'gosh was preparing for another eventless night. The sun was just
about to meet the horizon behind him, and he was about to move to phase two
of his mission.

He was only slightly less sure about his success in this mission, now that he
had lost his access to his magical abilities. Hell, it may prove to be a
challenge. Good.

'Courage', he thought.

'Loyalty. Victory.'

He made a brief prayer to Raije, wondering if the god of war had taken notice
of the mission he was undertaking. His eyes on the approaching docks, he
ordered the sails lowered.

---

"Uh, sir?"

Liebert looked scared. Khalifa nodded at him, smiling his eerie little
smile, telling the young sailor with his eyes to just chill the hell out.
The dock was lined with orcs. Half of them had torches, but they All had
blades.

Khalifa mounted the gangplank, and began to descend. A heavily tattoed orc
with a battle-scarred face and steely gray cornrows met him at the bottom of
the plank. He stood straight, chest out, looking down on the cloaked figure,
grasping a rather large axe.

The dark elf looked up at him. "Hail, servants of Raije. We are the
Marauders.
"

The orcs All voiced approval at this. Thruk'tar knelt and touched his
clenched fist to his forehead. His old knees popped as he knelt.
"Grun'tush, Marauder. Krun'tok. I am Thruk'tar, chief of the Mor'gnaol
batallion. Retired.
"

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Apr 1 10:44:20 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject **T'pal Mal** (Part eight)


Liebert paced back and forth on the small ship's deck. Khalifa had placed
him in command before joining the party of orcs and disappearing into the
small port town. The captain had appeared confident, but his first mate was
worried. He had placed 4 men on watch, one in the crow's nest, and ordered
the rest of the crew to sleep, in preparation for tomorrow's march. He
peered out into the darkness and resumed his pacing.

---

"Another round!"
Throg'nir bellowed at the bartender. Others cheered at his declaration.

Khalifa lounged in his chair, stretched out comfortably, with a tall glass
of cabernet in his left hand. He sipped smoke from a cracked and browning
clay pipe. Griz carried four pitchers of ale over to the large table, two
in each meaty fist. He set them down on the table, and spread them out in
front of the guests. Khalifa slowly exhaled thin smoke, and continued his
story.

"And the maiden says- 'But this one is eating my popcorn!'"

The veterans All erupted with laughter. Khalifa tossed his hood back,
feeling the warmth of the alcohol. Thruk'tar examined his smooth young face.
He didn't look like much of a warrior to the aging orc. Khalifa allowed
himself to be examined. He had divulged the very basics of his mission to
the orcish batallion leader, and Thruk'tar had promised him an intel report
before they began their march.

"I'm relatively new to Ironclad, you see. I know we are atoning for the
sins of Traice, but I was not personally around to experience his rule.
"

Thruk'tar the toothless nodded. "There are none of his supporters left
in Kol-Garras, as far as I'm aware. We drove the last of them out, months
ago. We chased them out of the territory. I have no doubt that some of the
rebels you seek have made T'pal Mal their home.
"

Khalifa withdrew a folded piece of parchment from beneath his cloak, and
showed it to the orc. "Now... tell me you have a better map of the area
than this.
"

Thruk'tar looked genuinely surprised. "Dak. Of course we do. The fort
has them too, or used to.
"

"Aye. Some records were stolen or destroyed in the chaos following the
betrayal.
"

"We'll have detailed maps for you in the morning as well."

"Now, one final peice of business before I return to my ship- Do you have
a local priest of Raije? I would like to speak with him.
"

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Apr 1 18:42:58 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject **T'pal Mal** (Part nine)


(Eight days later)

Khalifa stood, painfully. He used his right arm exclusively for support to
stand. The bandage was slowly turning red, but the bleeding had more or less
stopped. His left arm was in a sling to help keep it immobile.

Khalifa wavered slightly on his feet. He closed his eyes and grabbed at the
table he'd been laying on. Liebert stood ready to grab his captain if he
fell. The acting captain's face was pale and strained. He shooed his first
mate away and willed his strength back. He opened his eyes and walked
confidently to the empty powder-barrel he was using for a desk. Sitting
stiffly on the stool in front of the barrel, he motioned for Liebert to join
him.

"How do you feel, sir?"

"Like a million eggs, Liebert." He looked frail sitting there, bare-
chested, and Liebert fetched him his cloak without being asked. He helped his
captain into it, taking care to drape the left side gently over his shoulder
bandage.

"Thank you, Liebert." Khalifa reached instinctively into his cloak,
pulling out a worn leather pouch. He fetched a tobacco leaf, still slightly
green in the middle, and began to sprinkle some well-ground leafy substance
into it. He rolled it expertly, one-handed, and asked for a light. He was
finally getting used to the idea of having to make fire the old fashioned way
for his smoke-- his access to magic had been stripped from him for nearly a
month. Liebert fetched a candle and set it on the table in front of his
commanding officer. Khalifa drew deeply, holding the precious smoke in his
lungs.

Leibert had seen it before, but he was still taken aback every time the acting
captain did it. He thought maybe Khalifa was amused by his reaction and that
drove him to continue- The wounded dark elf exhaled through his nose. Green
eyes shining out from the darkness of his hood, and smoke flowing out in
seperate streams from his nostrils. It was a little eerie.

"They'll catch him." He looked his first mate in the eyes. "They'll
bring him back here, or part of him anyway.
"

Khalifa threw his hood back. The color had returned to his face and he
looked like himself again. He noticed Liebert's stare and grinned. "Not
all magic comes from a spellbook, Liebert.
" He held the pouch under his
first mate's nose. "Curtesy of Zandreya. Natural medicine. Ask a druid.
Or a shaman. The pain is already fading.
"

Liebert nodded and passed the pouch back across the barrel. "Aye sir."

Khalifa opened his journal and flipped back a few pages, scribbling notes in
the margins.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Apr 1 18:47:54 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject **T'pal Mal** (Part ten)


Khalifa re-read through the last couple of pages in his journal. He was glad
that he had been trained to take such careful notes. He gently removed a
blank page from deep within the book and taped it in between two fully-
written pages. He would remove the tape and fuse it to the binding somehow
if he ever got his magic back.

(Three days ago)

Khalifa crept on his belly through wet grass. He followed a wild elf who
could barely be seen in the brush, not three feet in front of him. The
ranger moved silently and Khalifa had to work to keep up and not lose his
camoflauged guide. A faint whistle caught his attention. Friedrict had
stopped in front of him. He crawled up next to the ranger, and peered
through a bush.

The woods ended here. An extensive pasture rolled gently downhill from the
observers. A healthy, rolling creek wound its way through the greenery,
into the distance. The pasture was in a low valley, surrounded by gently
rolling hills on one side, and steeper hills on the other. The valley was
at least a hundred acres, and surrounded by thick trees.

"{nThis is as far as I go while they live.
", Friedrict informed him.
"{nIf you're successful... I might want that ranch.
"

"How many?" Khalifa ignored the comment, he had plans for the ranch.

"{nMore than a dozen. Probably less than two.
"

"Disciplined?"

"{nThey seem well trained, but their discipline here has become lax. They
are soft. They have turned to brigandry and they have run unchallenged
since being driven from Kol-Garras.
"

They lay in the grass together, silently, watching the valley. Sheep dotted
the greenery. A sprawling lake lay like a jewel in the center of the
valley. Two homes and several barns lined the lake on its east bank. Two
men fished from a canoe in the center of the lake. Khalifa watched for ten
minutes, looking for movement. He spotted four guards, All within a couple
hundred yards of the buildings clustered around the lake. Well trained, as
the ranger had told him, but soft.

Finally, they squirmed their way backwards through twenty yards of brush,
meeting Roogin and Torston, and their ponies. "{nGood luck. We will be
better off, being rid of them.
"

Khalifa and the dwarves mounted their ponies and set a course through the
woods toward camp.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Apr 2 15:33:54 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject **T'pal Mal** (Part eleven)


It was nearly dawn. There was a crisp chill in the air, and a thin scrim of
frost coated the grass. The usual four guards were out, but two of them sat
on the dock, smoking and conversing softly. A third stood at the treeline,
watching the valley as he was trained to do. The fourth had ducked into an
outhouse twenty minutes ago.
Liebert heard the signal, a sharp whistle, and watched as three teams quickly
and silently took the guards they were assigned. The guard at the treeline
disappeared into the brush as if he had never been there. One guard, a
skulking goblin with a greasy black goatee, saw a shadow approach him on the
dock and turned just as a dark figure emerged from the black water and pulled
the second down into the muck. The goblin opened his mouth to call out, and
an arrow found his temple. A lithe felar slipped unseen into the outhouse,
returning barely a second later, carrying a dripping human head by its
dreadlocks.

The assault teams returned quickly and silently to their rendezvous points,
tossing the gathered heads into a burlap bag. "Now, you resume the watch.
Do a better job than they did, if you want a different outcome.
"
Khalifa watched the guards take their positions, before holding up his hand
and signalling the crew to follow him to the barn.

---

There were six men in the barn, All lower ranks, All sleeping deeply after
an evening of mead and whiskey. The majority of the crew of the Cutlass
slipped silently, single-file into the barn, where in every instance, a team
of two marauders seperated the head of a rebel from his body. Khalifa
handed a bearded head over to Roogin, who he had teamed up with for this one.

"Now, team two, take the two-story. Team one, we take the brick house."

They knew what they were doing, they had spent the entire previous day going
over the plan in great detail. They split up and went about their business.
Khalifa expected to see three or four in this house, just like the other.
They crept through the house in the dark, silently doing their work. There
was no honor in this work, but it had to be done. These men had turned to
brigandry, had murdered and assaulted and pillaged, and they had to be put
down.

That they were rebels against the fort was beside the point. These vermin
didn't deserve a real battle. Once the house was clear, they filed
carefully out the front door, carrying roughly spherical trophies.

The other team was filing out of the two-story farmhouse a moment later.
"Clear All the outbuildings and set up a perimiter. I'll be inside."
He turned and re-entered the brick house, lighting the candles in the living
area, and finding a comfortable seat.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Apr 2 15:36:19 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject **T'pal Mal** (Part twelve)


The men were gathered in front of the sprawling brick home. Khalifa stood
on the porch, his hands on the rail. "The rebels are finished!"

The men cheered, loudly. Khalifa waited for the applause to die down.

"May the next mission include an actual battle."

Several of the men murmured agreement to this. The massacre hadn't fulfilled
their need for battle, in the least.

"Team two, you are on watch. Team one, get the bodies out of the houses and
rest up.
"

"DISMISSED!"

The men went about their duties, and Khalifa sat on the porch swing with a
cup of coffee. He pulled a worn leather pouch from his cloak and began
rolling a smoke. He began planning the next few hours out as he watched the
horizon turn from black to purple. When the sun rose over the trees, he
retrieved his journal from beneath his cloak and began to write.

--

After he was finished recording the mission's success, Khalifa summoned his
first mate, navigator, and cartography specialist, and finished his smoke
while he waited.

"Aye, sir?"

"Let's go for a ride."

"Aye, sir."

There were 19 horses in the barn, unsurprising since they had 19 heads in
three burlap bags, also in the barn. Khalifa and Liebert each picked their
mount and saddled up. They crossed the valley at an exhilarating speed, the
horses happy to stretch their legs. The crisp morning air in his face woke
him up, refreshing him from the long night's activities. They galloped
across the rim of the valley, twenty yards from the treeline. Khalifa gave
his mare a nudge and she let it out another notch. The beast flexed, muscles
rippling beneath him. The horse veered to the right toward the steep
hillside as if accustomed to a particular route. Khalifa allowed the mare
to choose her own course. She raced into a break in the trees that Khalifa
couldn't see until it was in front of him. She slowed to a trot to navigate
the tricky path up the steep hill. After a few minutes of exhilarating
climbing, they came to a clearing at the top of a plateau overlooking his new
valley.

Khalifa dismounted and pointed at the matted grass. "A bedroll was here,
not long ago. Someone was up here watching us last night.
" Was probably
still watching them from the trees nearby. "Interesting."
Liebert said nothing. Khalifa was standing atop the edge of the cliff,
looking down on the ranch. Belina, the fort's new cattle rancher, would make
a fine steward of this land. The ranch would flourish under her management,
he was sure. The sheep were a nice bonus, the wool would help him in his
tailoring apprenticeship.

Liebert was making notes in his journal, sketching a bit, making notes
with highly accurate approximations of distance. The lake was in the center
of the valley. It stretched most of the distance across the valley, from
one steep dirt bank under a leafy canopy, to within a hundred yards of the
opposite treeline. There, two houses with several barns between them made up
the distance from the lake to the treeline. Pasture extended north and south
of the lake.

Khalifa sat patiently, sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye toward
the trees nearest where the grass had been matted down by a bedroll. So far,
nothing. They sat like this for an hour, it was a great vantage point, and
Liebert methodically sketching, calculating, writing descriptions of the
land.

At long last, in the mid-morning, they mounted up and headed back to the
ranch.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Apr 2 15:37:26 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject **T'pal Mal** (Part thirteen)


Khalifa had resumed his position on the porch swing. He was drinking iced
tea and eating a bacon sandwich. It was early in the afternoon and they
would be leaving in the morning, most of them anyway. He looked up at the
plateaux they had visited that morning, not for the first time that day.

This time, he saw a man on horseback, looking back at him. The man waved,
but did not move. Khalifa stood.

"LIEBERT!", he yelled, "Let's go for a ride."

---

Liebert led the four up the trail to the plateaux. He was followed closely
by Liebert, Chonsson, Roogin and Torston. As they passed into the clearing,
Khalifa recognized the ranger who had led them here, Friedrict.

"{nGreetings, Khalifa.
"

Khalifa and his men dismounted. Khalifa approached the ranger and sat in
front of him. "You've been watching us."

"{nYes, well, I didn't want to be confused with the rebels-
"
"Of course. But what do you want? Our business was concluded, was it
not?
"

"{nI want to talk about the ranch,
" Friedrict said.

This again. Khalifa peered at him silently. He already had plans for the
ranch. "Do you have a legitimate claim to the ranch? Did the rebels take
it from you?
"

Friedrict shook his head. "{nNo, I worked for Johannson. I sheared his sheep
the last ten years or so. He was going to leave the place to me.
"

"I see. And I assume you can provide some proof of that somewhere? A will,
perhaps?
"

"{nNo, I don't have anything like that.
"

"Friedrict, part of my mission is to find a ranch big enough to provide
beef to Fort Ironclad. This is the ranch. There will be a hundred head of
cattle arriving here in the next few weeks, and this is now property of Fort
Ironclad. If you have no legitimate claim on the land, there is nothing I
can do for you.
"

He looked the ranger in the eye, gauging his response. Friedrict remained
silent. Khalifa stood abruptly and said "Then we are done here? I expect
you to leave this land and camp elsewhere tonight.
"

He turned and faced his men. "Gentlemen? Let's go back to the ranch."
They began to climb aboard their mounts, and as Khalifa was reaching for his,
he was knocked to the ground by a terrible force. The breath was knocked out
of him and he landed on his face in the grass. A poisoned spear impaled him
through his left shoulder, pinning him to the ground. Liebert was the first
to see it, shouting at the others. The ranger had already disappeared.

Torston, Chonsson, and Roogin All chased after the ranger, knowing they would
likely be unable to track him through the woods. Liebert knelt by his
gasping captain and struggled to free him from the spear. Khalifa cried out
in pain, shouting at Liebert. "All at once, yank it HARD!"

Liebert grasped the spear in both hands and yanked it out of the ground.
Khalifa shrieked in pain and pushed himself up off the ground with the spear.

(---To Be Continued---)




Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Apr 2 15:39:01 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject **T'pal Mal** (Part fourteen)


Khalifa had finished his furious scribbling, and begun to roll another smoke.
His pain had returned. Liebert motioned toward the bandage. "I think it
may be time for a fresh one.
" The blood had reached the outer edges of the
bandage. Khalifa looked down at it. "Yes, perhaps in a bit. Let the medic
finish his nap though, it's fine.
"

He looked around the barn, enjoying the aroma of straw and dirt and horse.
The barn doors were wide open on either end, and he could see a pair of men
guarding each door. The four guards plus Liebert, Khalifa, and one medic-
They were at the ranch. Chonsson, Roogin, and Torston had given immediate
chase after the attack. The ten remaining were giving chase, searching for
the three marauders and the wild elf.

He looked at the bloody table where the medic had removed the spear and sewn
him up. The blood had soaked into the dirt already beneath the table.
He finished rolling his smoke, biting the tobacco leaf on the end to release
the flavors, and began to smoke again.

---

(One day later)

Khalifa rocked slowly on the porch swing, sipping iced tea and watching for
his men. He reflected on how much he hated waiting. He watched the pasture,
willing his crew to appear, and then to his surprise, they did, riding hard
toward the ranch, pouring like water out of an unseen hole in the trees.

When they arrived at the house, Khalifa learned of the news. They had found
Torston, Roogin, and Chonsson a mile out, slaughtered and beheaded. Of the
ranger, there was no sign. Khalifa wrote as they spoke.

"We leave in the morning. I want four volunteers to stay. Guard the land,
keep the sheep alive. The cattle and the new rancher will arrive in a matter
of weeks. I expect the ranch to be safe, and ready for her. Friedrict will
have to wait for another day.
"

"We'll take three days to travel back to Kol-Garras, and sail home
immediately.
"

Five days later, the Cutlass sailed into the sea cave, adorned with 19 heads,
rotting on pikes.

-+-[THE END]-+-




Writer: Niskerist

Date Sun Apr 2 17:22:21 2017




Writer: Niskerist

Date Tue Apr 4 18:36:16 2017




Writer: Kahlyn

Date Wed Apr 5 20:14:42 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Thu Apr 6 10:17:07 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Thu Apr 6 10:20:22 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Thu Apr 6 10:23:25 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Thu Apr 6 10:27:51 2017




Writer: Vashilore

Date Thu Apr 6 10:33:04 2017




Writer: Mezlak

Date Thu Apr 6 11:19:18 2017

To Marauders Mahazi Aeriset All ( Raije Imm RP Religion Tashio )

Subject Hunting Traitors - Street Brawl (Part 1)



Mezlak had been making his way through the town, heading in the general
direction of the manor house. The distant sounds of fighting were slowly
dying down. He wasnt sure how long hed been on his own. He had difficulty
keeping track of time during a fight and he hadnt exactly been walking
directly towards the manor. Nor had he been slow about it either. Hed been
keeping off the main streets as much as possible. That had been as much of
a defensive move as the fire elemental he could still feel burning behind
him.

That wasnt the focus of his attention at the moment however. It was the
armed man in front of him. He really should have been letting the elemental
fight in front of him. There was no fun in that however. This man wasnt
particularly skilled. He wasnt even in the town guard, for his leather
cuirass was clearly antiquated and second hand. He was likely just some
civilian whod picked up a weapon to fight.

Mezlak had been on the defensive, not because of any particular skill on his
opponents behalf. It was to allow him to get more enjoyment out of the
fight. The mans blows were easy enough to block with his round shield. A
quick thrust or slash here and there just to keep his opponent from getting
to comfortable.

Itd been ages since Mezlak had this much fun. It was in these moments one
really truly was alive. The thought that at any second one wrong step or
one missed block could end it All somehow made everything more real. Colors
seemed brighter. Smells were stronger. This was living.

Mezlak really needed to be moving on, however. So he went on the offensive,
striking rapidly at the man. Using both his sword and shield to try and
land a blow on the man. Mezlak bashed and punched with the shield. He
slashed and stabbed with his sword. Somehow, in the flurry of Mezlaks
attack, one thrust that he never expected to land found flesh below the
bottom of the mans cuirass.

Mezlak stood there for a moment, eye to eye with his opponent as both men
were stunned by the turn of events. Mezlak had never intended the thrust to
find flesh. It had been merely a thrust to try and set up a killing blow.
Slowly he pulled his sword from the man and let him fall. The blow wasnt
immediately fatal. With any luck the man would live long enough to get to a
healer in the town. It was as Mezlak turned from his opponent to continue
on his way to the manor that his luck turned.




Writer: Mezlak

Date Thu Apr 6 11:28:16 2017

To Marauders Mahazi Aeriset All ( Raije Imm RP Religion Tashio )

Subject Hunting Traitors - Street Brawl (Part 2)



Everything seemed to happen at once. He didnt know where his elemental
went, but it was no longer right behind him. What was behind him, was a
member of the city guard. The guard already had his sword raised. Before
Mezlak could react the sword impacted his head, slicing from just above his
right ear to just above his right eye. If the sanctuary spell he had placed
on himself earlier hadnt absorbed most of the blow, Mezlak would have at
least lost his eye, if not been killed outright.

Mezlak was surprise how slow things suddenly seemed. It was quite the
paradox from just a half second ago. He fell backwards from the blow, but
the mere seconds it took for him to hit the ground stretched to minutes as
he felt the warm blood flowing from his wound. As he hit the ground, he
could hear each foot fall as his attacker running down the street. He could
hear he man shouting that he had killed the Warlord of the Marauders.

As he lay on the ground he could feel his blood flowing from his body. He
was surprised to discover the blow to his head wasnt the only place he was
bleeding from. He reached with his right hand, funny he didnt remember
dropping his sword, to find a deep cut on his right side below his rib cage.
As he raised his hand to his face to see the palm covered in red, he
realized his first opponent must have stabbed him at the same time Mezlak
delivered his own blow. He just hadnt felt the pain at that moment.

As his mind worked slowly to piece together the events of the last few
seconds, he came to the realization. He was losing a lot of blood. If he
didnt act soon hed bleed to death here in the street. Mezlak tried to move
and think fast, but his body was slow to respond and his head felt full of
fluff. Hed never been overly skilled in the healing arts, despite even
being a priest, but he knew he had to atleast stop the bleeding. He worked
as fast as he could, but everything still felt sluggish from the amount of
blood lost. What seemed like hours had passed, though it was likely less
than a minute, but Mezlak had finally stopped the bleeding, though hed not
been able to close the wounds yet.

**************************************************************

Mezlak was really lost on time now. Hed slowly, he couldnt force himself to
move much faster than a shuffle because of his wounds, made his way to just
across a small plaza from the manor house. Hed long ago dismissed his
elemental, lacking the strength to control such magic anymore. He could see
men at the house, but his vision had long ago gone so blurry that he couldnt
tell if they were Marauders or enemy forces. It mattered not either way
now. If they were not Marauders theyd likely kill him. If he didnt get
help soon, hed likely die anyway. It was time to take a leap of faith that
his son had completed his mission and secured the manor house by now.

Mezlak stepped from the shadow of the building and started shuffling towards
the manor, his sword tip drug along the street behind him before he could no
longer keep a hold of it. A few steps later he could no longer hang onto
his heavy shield as it too slips from his hand. A few more steps, nearly
halfway across the plaza, Mezlaks vision went completely black. One more
step. Then he fell, and was no longer aware of anything.




Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Apr 6 20:34:19 2017




Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Apr 6 20:38:15 2017




Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Apr 6 20:40:01 2017




Writer: Kahlyn

Date Thu Apr 6 20:48:06 2017




Writer: Benthic

Date Thu Apr 6 21:41:37 2017




Writer: Khalifa

Date Fri Apr 7 09:56:37 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm Religion Rp Tashio )

Subject Pursuit of Faith (Part One)


Khalifa sat, reclined in his soft chair, enjoying the quiet. Candlelight
flickered dimly, the small flame dancing excitedly in a mild draft. He
rubbed at his left shoulder absently. The wound was taking its sweet time
to heal- he imagined it was due to his spiritual condition. He had been
without the gifts of the gods for some weeks now, having renounced Drakkara
in favor of the god of war.

Still unable to left his left arm past table-height, he was becoming
depressed. A man of purpose, Khalifa was driven to action, and sitting at
home, nursing a slow-healing wound was breaking him down. Taking advantage
of the mobility in his right arm, he grasped a rather plain glass carafe,
pouring wine into his glass, and into a puddle surrounding his glass on the
rough ironwood table.

The wine helped. It warmed him up from the inside, and after a while, even
his head began to feel better. His muscles began to loosen, and even the
pain in his back and shoulder faded some. He began to reflect on the
mission that had brought him this pain. The mission was a success, but the
loss of three of his men weighed heavily on him. Of course, it was
sometimes necessary to break a few eggs, and he suspected this would make
for an especially tasty omelet, but these men were under his command,
damnit, and bringing them All home was part of his duty as an officer of the
fort.

He fumbled through his journal, stopping at the page that his promotion
letter had been pasted to. 'Admiral Khalifa', he mumbled aloud. And still,
he thought, unable to attract the attention of Raije. Perhaps he should go
pick a fight with a battlerager. He chuckled at the thought, sending
another bolt of pain through his back. He stood, slowly, gingerly.

Blinking through the haze of strong red wine, he stumbled out the door, and
began to make his way abovedeck. It was time to go pray.

-+-(To Be Continued)-+-




Writer: Khalifa

Date Fri Apr 7 09:58:46 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm Religion Rp Tashio )

Subject Pursuit of Faith (Part Two)


The morning sun blinded him. He stood in the doorway, propping himself
up against the dizziness and the pain. His eyes remained closed, bright sun
shining through for several minutes until he felt he could open them. Bits
of quartz glittered on the walls of the sea-cave. The sun was shining
through the opening with such intensity, it was almost as if- 'Oh... ', he
murmured, remembering the wine. No matter. He disembarked the ship and
headed for the portals.

---

"Oahz", he said flatly. It was a habit that was deeply ingrained in him.
He hadn't been able to make a gate in what felt like years, but it was still
the first thing that occured to him when he wanted to go somewhere.

Sighing, he walked through the portal to the Arkanian public port.
Squinting at the renewed sunlight, he set out eastward toward a familiar
battleground. Moving slowly down the right side of the road, like a
crippled old man, he shuffled along. He was passed by several wagons on his
short journey, and by one matronly woman pushing a wheelbarrow full of
cabbages. His head began to ache.

As the sun reached its peak, he came within sight of the bindstone. "Almost
there
", he mumbled. Wishing for shade to rest in, he cursed the midday sun.
Shade or not, he was going to have to stop and rest, even being this close
to the altar. He sat down in the warm dirt, leaning up against the
bindstone. He peered to the northwest, seeing the battlefield and the altar
he was seeking. He had begun to make it a habit to pray to Raije from one
of his temples at least twice a day.

Yesterday he had prayed from the temple in Thaxanos, enduring the glaring
looks from the dwarven peacekeepers as he knelt. Today was the battlefield
altar. He could see the boulder marking the entrance- the skull and
crossbones carved into the rockseeming to laugh at him. His head began to
pound.

Khalifa stood, slowly, carefully, using the bindstone for support, and made
his way to Raije's altar, where he dropped to his knees again and began to
pray.

-+-(To Be Continued)-+-




Writer: Khalifa

Date Fri Apr 7 13:26:47 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm Religion Rp Tashio )

Subject Pursuit of Faith (Part Three)


He woke up in the dark, confused. His head was pounding and his mouth
felt like it was full of Bak'he sand. He groaned and reached for the carafe
next to his bunk. His fingers grazed it and set it to wobbling. He
grimaced and reached again, grasping it. He raised the carafe to his lips
and took one awful sip. "The hell with this-", he threw the carafe across
the tiny room, where it shattered against the door frame.

The Admiral forced himself to stand up and walk to the door. He prepared
himself for the glaring sunlight he had experienced the last time.
Squinting his eyes shut, he yanked on the door, only to be greeted by the
cool sea air, and the darkness of midnight.

Walking slowly, but with purpose, he went directly to the galley, where he
poured himself a large glass of water. After his fourth glass, he began to
feel better, but was beginning to feel bloated, so he sat down for a few
minutes, allowing the precious liquid time to seep into All the dry cracks
and crevices of his soul like the rain finds cracks in rocks to run into.

He needed to clear his head. This stupid injury and the resulting loss of
men had muddled his mind, just as his religious conversion was taking up
most of his attention as well. It was time to sweat some of this poison out
of his body. He bound the sling tightly to his body, immobilizing his left
arm further before disembarking the ship.

---

His head was worse now that when he had woken up. The sun had peeked over
the horizon an hour ago, and Khalifa was still jogging. He had thrown up
twice, and the taste was still in his mouth, but he was still going. He had
grown tired of his slow-healing injury. Tired of waiting for Raije to
notice him and grant his blessings to the Admiral. He would train the
injury away. It would hurt, but such was life. He pondered this as he
jogged up the coastline toward the public port of Arkania. He jogged
eastward, heading for home.

Passing the bindstone, he slowed for a moment and faced the altar to Raije,
snapped a quick salute, and resumed his easterly pace.

-+-(To Be Continued)-+-




Writer: Sammuel

Date Fri Apr 7 13:30:31 2017




Writer: Gavriel

Date Fri Apr 7 14:32:34 2017




Writer: Gavriel

Date Fri Apr 7 14:41:12 2017




Writer: Benthic

Date Wed Apr 12 00:11:40 2017




Writer: Rahal

Date Wed Apr 12 17:50:37 2017




Writer: Benthic

Date Thu Apr 13 00:56:16 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Fri Apr 14 03:21:02 2017




Writer: Sammuel

Date Fri Apr 14 07:20:54 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Fri Apr 14 08:33:56 2017




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Fri Apr 14 08:35:16 2017




Writer: Rahal

Date Fri Apr 14 09:55:58 2017




Writer: Rahal

Date Fri Apr 14 10:00:04 2017




Writer: Rahal

Date Fri Apr 14 10:04:07 2017




Writer: Rahal

Date Fri Apr 14 10:09:04 2017




Writer: Sammuel

Date Fri Apr 14 14:53:48 2017




Writer: Sammuel

Date Fri Apr 14 15:15:07 2017




Writer: Nymaya

Date Sat Apr 15 12:04:41 2017




Writer: Zola

Date Mon Apr 17 03:48:23 2017

To All Sierus Narsh Iocaste Abaddon Gray_Church Immortals Fatale

Subject X Queenside Tournament X


Thirty-two pieces. Sixteen pawns, four rooks, four bishops, four
knights, two kings and, of course, two queens. One for each side of the
board. A game that was simple to learn yet took great practice,
intelligence, and strategy to properly master. And a favored activity of
the Deathscythe during his minimal downtime.


Chess.

His tournament had been organized partially out of a desire to find
excellent challengers to match his skill against, and partially out of a
desire to raise funds for the Temple expansions he'd been working the last
few years on. Naming and dedicating the tournament to the Queens of Abaddon
who Ruled from the Shadows was a stroke of genius, if he did say so himself.
Or it might have been, had greater participation been found.


As it was: himself, the fervent Undertaker Sierus, and a Brother and Sister
from the Gray Church. Old acquaintances of Zola. Not quite the grand
showing he'd wanted for the Queens, but it would suffice. Once their entry
fees had been collected (and some had more generously donated extra to spice
up the game) they began.


Narsh, the great yinn Protector of the Church, was a surprisingly formidable
chess player. Even with an early lead, Zola could do little more than
attempt to counter his strategy as both of them had their forces chipped
away piece by piece. Problem was, Narsh was only sacrificing pawns, while
they were destroying the bulk of Zola's elite forces. In the end, conceding
victory had been his only option, and he had toppled his king.


The follow-up match for Bronze was difficult for different reasons. The
Prioress Iocaste was typical of her kind in at least one respect, she was
unpredictable. Her moves made no sense. At first chalking it up to
inexperience, Zola was forced to re-evaluate midway through the match, and
take his own moves more carefully. Eventually, he had her on the run, to
her frustration, but she did not go down easily. He respected her
determination to fight to the end, bitter though it was.


And All the while, as Zola shifted a dark Knight forward or advanced his
black Queen, his thoughts shifted over another, grander game he was playing.
Considering the actions of pawns being manipulated across the field of
Algoron for a greater purpose. Xoknath, Benthic, Kyan, and others besides
them. Pieces on both sides of the board that were even now moving in a much
grander game with infinitely higher stakes.


In the end, Zola managed to claim only the bronze trophy he'd prepared,
though he considered the quality of the time spent to be very much worth it,
and against such excellent opponents a sign of his accomplishment. Narsh
had netted himself the silver trophy thanks to excellent playing, losing
only to a minor mistake, and vowing to do better next time. And Sierus, of
all people, the underdog undertaker, had come out of nowhere to tear through
all opposition and conquer the gold trophy. Victory was his.




Writer: Thrakhath

Date Mon Apr 17 18:11:14 2017




Writer: Mahazi

Date Mon Apr 17 20:23:43 2017

To Marauders Aeriset Mezlak All ( Tashio Imm RP Religion )

Subject Hunting Traitors - First Command (Part 3)



The explosion at the south gates, shaking the ground, was the first sign
that help was on its way. The shouts for Raije and Marauders were heard
coming from the same direction. The sight of a body flying through the air
gave Mahazi an idea of how quickly the Ogres made it into the city walls.
With the surrounding soldiers stunned from the sudden explosion, Mahazi and
his squad charged. FOR RAIJE! FOR MARAUDERS! Mahazi screamed. Mahazi
swung with All his might, sending the head of the first guardsman that he
came to flying. In what seemed like seconds, Mahazi spotted Bhohrs leading
the first company. With their appearance, many of the guards threw down
their weapons, knowing their chances of survival were small. It was a
welcome break. Secure All weapons, and tie them up. I do not want any
heros to think they can rally on a defensive. Mahazi wipes the blood off
his blades using the shirt of a fallen enemy. Leaving blood on them would
cause rust and thus, ruining the blades. After a brief discussion with
Bhohrs, Mahazi turns to his squad. We continue to the manor, kill All who
oppose, secure those that surrender. Move out!" While marching through the
streets, they met up with Warlord Mezlak, just a few blocks away from the
manor.




Writer: Benthic

Date Mon Apr 17 23:18:41 2017




Writer: Benthic

Date Mon Apr 17 23:34:48 2017




Writer: Betha

Date Wed Apr 19 11:02:16 2017

To Wargar Thaxanos All Immortal RP

Subject News on Drobsek



The large boulder outside the hall had never been Betha's good luck
place. Perhaps it was because every hand delivered note she had ever
received was read while sitting there. Those notes never brought good news.
Her hand trembled as she held this note out as far as her reach allowed.
The news was near unbearable and she just wanted the note to float away with
the wind and she could pretend it never happened.

Dear Ms Drobsek,

It is with great sorrow that we inform you of the death of your husband
Drobsek Dimrock. His death came at the hands of a jealous elven maiden who
confessed she killed him in anger due to his refusal to divorce his wife and
marry her. The concubine will meet her maker as soon as the firing squad is
assembled. Again, Our deepest sympathies to you and clan Wargar.

Betha felt more anger than sorrow. She had always known Drobsek had an eye
for the lasses but an elven lass? She thought he'd have more taste than to
soil his reputation with an elf. And to leave this legacy of shame on her
shoulders was even worse. The obscenities that flew from her lips echoed
across the mountain. She was sure even Althainia might have heard her.





Writer: Mahazi

Date Wed Apr 19 21:29:55 2017

To Marauders Aeriset Mezlak All ( Tashio Imm RP Religion )

Subject Hunting Traitors - First Command (Part 4)



Mahazi realized that his father was walking too slow, and without his
sword. It was after the shield was dropped that he knew Mezlak was in
serious trouble. With the Marauders with him, Mahazi raced to his father,
fear of losing another parent building inside of him. Mahazi reached his
father right after he fell to the ground, checking his pulse as the other
Marauders circled around them in a defensive formation. "He is alive.
Barely." The commotion and sudden appearance of a large group of Marauders
got the attention of the men guarding the manor. Although clearly
outnumbered, the guards readied themselves for battle, with archers starting
to shoot at the Marauders. The Marauders standing guard raise their
shields, making in impenetrable shell, like a beetle. Looking up at Bhohrs,
rage filling his eyes, Mahazi tells him "We must get the Warlord to safety.
Send a squad of ten to take him back to get medical attention. The rest of
us will continue. The only survivors will be the family." With Bhohrs
issuing commands to the ten he chose, Mahazi and the rest of the Marauders
start to advance on the manor. Looking like a giant pin cushion, the
Marauders quickly closed the distance. Once they were close enough, Mahazi
jumped through the opening that was made in the shields, and with one mighty
swing, decapitating the closest guard. The battle in front of the manor was
over in seconds. "Search the manor, kill All but the family and servants.
We will take them with us." The manor was secured quickly, with most of the
guards being outside, there was little resistance inside.




Writer: Betha

Date Thu Apr 20 18:17:55 2017

To Wargar Thaxanos All Immortal RP

Subject News and Truth



Days had passed since Betha received word of Drobsek's death. Many had
spoken their shock and sympathies and Betha had joined in with her own words
of praise and regret at the loss.

She didn't tell a single soul what the note said, mostly because she was
having a hard time believing that Drobsek would even think of taking an
elven mistress. It just wasn't the dwarf she had known and grown to love.
His loyalty to his clan and his race would prevent him from being tempted to
one who he was bred to hate.

Everyone knows that as gossip travels it becomes distorted and Betha was
near certain that the details of Drobsek's death had become just that,
misinformation. She would continue to sing his praises as she always had
and maybe someday the truth would surface.





Writer: Fynix

Date Fri Apr 21 22:21:56 2017

To All Arkane Gypsies

Subject |A| Air Patrol |A|


.--------------------------------------------------------------------------.
| |
| The wind rustled through golden feathers as Fynix soared low over the |
| outskirts of Arkane, searching for some sign, any sign, of the citizens |
| who'd gone missing in the wake of the demon attack. Thus far, All of |
| his efforts had been fruitless. It was as if dozens of people, of All |
| ages, classes, and even species had simply vanished. |
| |
| This wasn't exactly his forte however. He was an entertainer, not a |
| scout or a soldier. But when he thought about All those poor Arkanian |
| people missing sons, daughters, siblings or parents... and he thought |
| even more of those he could've lost in the attack... |
| |
| ... well, how could he not do something? |
| |
'--------------------------------------------------------------------------'




Writer: Lothaw

Date Fri Apr 21 22:35:06 2017

To Arkane ( All imm rp relgion Wrath Zandreya )

Subject Darkness and Despair



As Lothaw Katel sat upon the cot in Arkanes Haven, it was apparent his
injuries were already drawing odd looks from the citizenry. Thanks to the
healing of the priestess Aliera, the giant Thaydius and others he was mostly
whole again. Though the feel of the claws and fangs tearing his flesh
asunder was not far from mind, it was the words, the laughter and above all
the burning that stuck with him.

"So you will remember me, mortal, and the price of your Pride."

The words burned into his neck would not respond to healing magics and he
didnt doubt for a moment that he would carry their pain for a long time.
What was it with these creatures and their petty agendas? Though in
hindsight he probably shouldnt have commented so openly upon it, and even
after carrying the scars Lothaw didnt doubt the truth behind his prior
statement that in a month this latest menace to the realm would be gone and
mostly forgotten. Though in hindsight, commenting so openly upon it was far
from a good idea.

Darkness and despair were not enough to deviate the dark elf from his chosen
course though, and in hindsight he had endured worse, if less prominent
wounds, at the hands of both the dark powers and the light. Lothaw rested,
and turned his thoughts to Mother Zandreya, praying for her to keep him,
Arkane and All those who would oppose this misery close to her grace.

The demon prided its wrath, though its victims seemed to be mostly children
and others he dragged into his realm to torment. Pettiness or spite was all
that was. It commented that Lothaws own wrath had impressed it, perhaps he
would give another demonstration of it in the coming days.




Writer: Nebecanazar

Date Fri Apr 21 22:57:57 2017




Writer: Thaydius

Date Fri Apr 21 23:03:55 2017

To Arkane Althainia Knighthood All ( Imm Religion Siccara )

Subject The Torment of Arkane I



The air was crisp, unbeknownst to Thaydius, who had long lost sense of
what a chilling sensation was whether it took the form of a gust of wind or
apocalyptic winter. People stood about the square, half-hearted, feeling
the direct and indirect wrath of the sinful presence that had rocked Arkane
not long ago. It was a scene a lot like many other events he had witnessed
in his years. He knew the deep and unreserved sense of fear and pain that
leaked out after the conflict had come to an end.

Thaydius did not believe demons to be complex creatures. As intense
manifestations of darkness, demons are the epitome of evil in the mortal
realm. They feed on hatred and sadness. All the dark things that swell in
the hearts of men serve only to empower them. The very sun itself singes
their flesh, to their delight, as they are able to withstand it unlike their
weaker kin. What they wanted and what they needed was to sow this chaos and
discord All about Algoron as they were meant to do. And none were more
proficient in such menacing displays.

Of course, the White Moon cast every ounce of shadow out of his heart and
insulated him from their influence. But he could feel the latent suffering,
nonetheless. He spoke reassuring words to the adventurer's gathered in the
Square and committed himself to doing something about All of this. As he
turned to make haste, he felt his magic fail. At last, he noticed a minor
curse placed upon him, perhaps by one of the children of Darkness, his last
memento from their pointless skirmish.

Halfway around the world, somewhere in the many hills outside of Althainia,
there was a meager settlement that doubled as a headquarters. After being
given heaps of tribute and gifts from people in his adventures, Thaydius
committed the funds to a group of disciples, followers of the White Moon
that he had come to trust over time. They were people that helped him
address the plague, the deathsong, attacks from Chaos and All manner of
tragedies against Algoron. The Gray Church was extraordinary in helping the
adventurers of the world, but he wanted a more focused approach. All of
these people had tiny marks on their palm, like the one he had given Cassidy
so long ago. They were bound to one another.

At the center of this humble village, a blaze of Light unveiled the stately
form of Thaydius, his garb still ripped and torn from the distractions of
the Manor and the Dungeon. Life stirred amidst the farms and buildings, and
faces peeked through the little church built at one end of the town. The
Frost Giant walked with the same collected grace as he always did, wounds
bitten into his forearm and sliced amidst his torso faded like shadows
against the brightest light. He came to a young priest and exhaled a gust
of frosty air through his nostrils, glancing from the young man up toward
the White Moon.

We have work to do. Summon the others.




Writer: Zarina

Date Fri Apr 21 23:12:09 2017

To All (Imm Rp)

Subject Reports of the Missing



After leaving Lord Lothaw at the healer's chambers, Zarina left the Haven
of Arkane to speak with the citizens of the Kingdom. Walking down streets
and entering shops, talking with every guard and shopkeeper, offering words
of comfort to those in distress, she jotted down the names of those missing,
with the promise that they would be searched for.

She hoped and pray they would be found unharmed, physically and mentally.
She worried greatly for the children and the elderly, how much could they
endure... There had to be a way to stop these demons from attacking, from
bringing so much pain. Where were the angels, the guardians, the protectors
of the Realm? Was there anything stronger to destroy the demons? Of course
the people of the Realm had come together to fight, and they would continue
to do so, to protect each other and the lands, even if some others came to
use the fighting for their own personal gains to attack those clans and
people coming to aid the Kingdom.





Writer: Mezlak

Date Fri Apr 21 23:42:46 2017

To All Marauders Arkane ( Raije Imm RP Religion Tashio )

Subject Recovering the Missing



Mezlak filled out the orders. The storm and demon had taken people.
Normally Mezlak wouldn't care about missing people from other kingdoms.
This time however, this demon made a mistake. This time he took Marauders.


This time the challenge had been made.

While indiviuals search from elsewhere, Mezlak had an Army. When someone
picked a fight with one Marauder, they pick a fight with the whole army. No
Marauder ever fought alone.

The Marauders would be the vanguard against this demon where ever he hid.
If others chose to come along, so be it. Mezlak was hardly one to deny a
fight to others.

He finished filling out the orders and handed them to the waiting errand
boys that ran through Ironclad. Army scouts and cavalry would seek traces
of the demon and those that were taken. The secretive Blades would begin
gathering intel on the demon and trying to learn about it's powers.
Companies in the country side reinforcing the Army's control over the
sectors would be recalled. All troops would ready to march. If this demon
was found, the full weight of the Marauders would be brought to bear against
it.

No one took a Marauder prisoner without consiquences.




Writer: Gavriel

Date Sat Apr 22 00:59:06 2017

To All Arkane Althainia Teimhnean imm roleplay rp

Subject "Gotta start somewhere."



"Those what were there saw lingerin' shadows... I'm thinkin' might look
out west t'start. There's a grove out that way, 's I recall."

"Eh - that's assuming that thems what conrtol the sin adhere to an internal
and consistent logic."

"Gotta start somewhere."

So he did.

Gavriel stared north, into the spaces between the giant grey trees. There
was power here, and menace, and he'd felt both those in Arkane as well. He
could only hope he was on the right track.

The horse under him snorted, it didn't like this path any better than Gav
did, but he wasn't about to abandon those who'd been lost. He'd said to
Shamus, when he went to the stables for his steed, "They ain't forgotten.
I'm ridin' out t'search fer yours, and the others, too. Say a prayer f'r
'em."

And now Gav said a prayer, himself. "Lord... I don't know where I'm
headed, but I'm hopin' it does some good. I jus' pray we ain't All too
late."

His shield-hand firmly gripping the reins, Gavriel gave a click of his
tongue and urged the Nordmaarian-bred warhorse onward. There were children
to be saved, and he'd be damned if he was going to sit idle.




Writer: Alathen

Date Sat Apr 22 08:43:59 2017

To Arkane Althainia All ( Imm Religion Raije )

Subject Hope shines in the Darkness.


Hope shines in the Darkness. With missives sent to every temple and
city. Alathen nods softly to himself. Looking over the skyline. Candle
kits simple beacons of light and hope. Let those lost only look up and know
they are not alone. Let the night skies fill with hope. Let those who have
been take from us know just not found. May any able to see be guided home.
In this hour of grief let All have lost know none have given up know our
commitment and resolve will not faultier till we bring them home.

These beast wish to extinguish the Light we'll give them thousand new stars
in the night skies above. We shall show them they have won nothing. Now
preparations for War. Sighs softly knowing last time he committed to War.




Writer: Alathen

Date Sat Apr 22 10:13:10 2017

To Arkane Althainia All ( Imm Religion Teliena Raije )

Subject War in the Temple of Love


Alathen kneeing with his eyes closed at in prayer at Teliena's temple at
the foot of her statue. A Priest walks in behind him in his prayer. Softly
speaking, Alathen Renato, Priest of Love. Crusader of Love. Now child or
War. Why do you bring war why do you bring war to her temple of love?
Without moving muscle responds in kind. That I think would be obvious. So
I never forget what I'm fighting for. The old kind looking Priest gently
nods. You keep war in your heart to fight for love? Alathen looks to the
statue of the Goddess. I keep war in my heart to bare my love. Those you
love the most you fight for. The Old Man nods lightly, then I leave to your
prayers Baron. Then the Priest leaves as Alathen closes he's eyes again
lowering his head back to his prayer.




Writer: Alathen

Date Sat Apr 22 11:11:01 2017

To Arkane Althainia All ( Imm Religion Raije )

Subject Victory will be at any cost.



Remembering The last time he declared War.. Countless plagued, cursed to
the Deathsong. Suffering of the people spread to every conner of the world.
He committed to War against the atrocity. Study it's every habit, fight it
on every front never stop.. Never stop.. Till the battle was won. The
cost was grave. When the fight won it was over.. Alathen curing the curse
of untold countless without rest. Without giving a inch into the plague
that brought method to keeping cleansed every kingdom. An finally healed
utterly exhausted from healing day and night weaken by repeated alignment he
collapse drained virtual to the point of death. Even living was strain to
the last bit of life holding on merely a breath away from Fatale. The
damage had been done with no faculties left of endurance his sacrifice would
now bare it's cost. With his first breath of air the pain would begin. The
curse had torn this his spirit and mind thousands of times. An now caught
up with him. His mother an Priestess and healers would spend the next days
keeping him barely alive.. Bloody screams of agony would fill the room of
childhood home. Every muscle riving in suffering of getting torn apart with
seeming no end to the torture. He had wished for death relief from the
suffering. His mind no sanctuary as the a cursed song rang threw his very
soul. The feeling of living while torn apart then put back together again
would last for days after. An The Song... It still ringing in his ears.
Gone from the world in All place but one. He knew this Demons wanted a War
then they shall have it. An Victory will be at any cost.




Writer: Meki

Date Sat Apr 22 16:47:14 2017




Writer: Zola

Date Sat Apr 22 18:29:05 2017

To All Abaddon Bloodlust Verminasia Darkonin Immortals Fatale

Subject X Darkness Descending X


Missing children.

Zola glanced up from his meditations as the news reached him, dismissing the
messenger as he pondered over the interesting course of events that had
taken place that night. A demon of darkness stealing away family members.
By All accounts, by the dozens. Not All children either, but the old,
young, human, elf, felar, rich and poor and everything in between. Even
Marauder soldiers, trained and prepared, vanished into thin air. Very
intriguing. Seemingly no commonality, save one he knew of.


This only days after a demon had inspired the most revolting urge for food
and drink in the Arkanian City, and another had plagued Althainia with
nightmares. The Darkness was active, and moving. And there was a grander
plan at work here, Zola could sense it.


He needed to learn more. Wrapping his crimson vestments aroun dhis
shoulders and ensuring his ever-present mask was in face, Zola stepped up to
the braziers lit in Fatale's Temple, vanishing into the smoke and shadows.
He would see for himself what had come of this latest incident and judge
what his place was for himself. If this servant of Darkness had wanted the
kidnapped dead, such would have been their fate already. Which only meant
something grander was in the works.





Writer: Verdot

Date Sat Apr 22 19:47:49 2017




Writer: Mercerion

Date Sun Apr 23 00:38:18 2017




Writer: Mercerion

Date Sun Apr 23 00:57:26 2017

To All Nadrik Immortal Religion Knighthood Storyline

Subject Entities of Sin Part 2: Cracked Shield and Shinalstin



She's been taken, General... The Lady Shield has been taken by those
things

Where are you?

On my way home, sir.

On the damned double!

Mercerion was pacing the altar room in full battle regalia. The Shokonese
stylings of his armors belying the ferocity of an angered angelic creature
made even more intense by the wrath that emanated from the Crown General.
One of his own was taken, and not returned. Likely being tortured or even
murdered as he paced by these damned evil entities. He was prepared to tear
heads from spines, or whatever these entities had anyway.

When Hasaki came into the altar room, covered in blood once again, Mercerion
called Jornhya over to address the wounds, and sent a page to bring
Thrakhath in from his campaigning. He helped Jornhya tend to Hasaki as the
squire made his report. Greed had struck, and of course it had fittingly
struck New Thalosia. Apparently Sloth had struck as well, and had come
after Hasaki, but Aliera had intervened on behalf of the Squire, putting
herself between the squire and the entity, and had been taken for it.

Names had been mentioned, and this is what snapped the General out of his
fury.

"LaFortinas" Mercerion quirked an eyebrow and added, "Ilusen, no doubt."

The Squire nodded.

"The other name?" Came Mercerion's impatient reply.

"Elven sir. Shal.. Shin"

"Shinalstin" Came Thrakhath's reply

Mercerion nodded and rose to his feet, pulling Thrakhath into formation with
him.

"We're going to Shinalstin. I happen to know where it is."

===============================================================

After the battle through the mists, the dark and dry desolation of the
Shinalstin catacombs were almost welcome. Mercerion was familiar with this
place, he had been here before. He knew of a monk here, whom just might
have some answers he sought about these evils. When they reached the room
where one could nexus away, he disbanded his formation, and made his way
through the wicked halls of the catacombs to speak with Sevarris. Hopefully
this monk would have some answers.




Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Apr 23 10:12:31 2017

To All Equinox Immortal Shadow Verminasia Religion

Subject Claws in the Dark (VIII)


Daylight pierced the eastern horizon and the priest mused silently to
himself. Perpetually the tides changed. The pendulum forever shifted,
spiralling as history repeated itself again and again and again. The sun
would rise, and for a time light would reign and create. And then the sun
would set, and darkness would reign and destroy.

A pendulum could not be tipped, try as one might. The cycle would just
continue, the magnitude of its swing careening in reverse with dramatic
intensity to carve its path across the years until it finally resumed its
original course once again. He had seen it time and time again. But
perhaps a pendulum could be broken.

Burnt fingers worked themselves slowly over the ancient Shinalstin periapt,
the markings long since faded from its smooth surface. He closed his eyes,
conjuring the images writ in bone and flesh as he turned the script over and
over again in his mind.

Further within the stables, the soft jingle of bells and the voice that
followed drew his attention back to the present moment, 'Everything is
accounted for and ready, My Lord. ' Confident his intution was correct, he
tucked the fragment carefully away within his robes. Turning to face the
skald, his slate eyes swept over her and Telthian nodded in solemn approval.
She was prepared.

Stepping through a gateway of liquid darkness they found themselves at that
ancient gatehouse, the Vision writ large into the black marble as a constant
reminder of the code.


AMBACTUS A CALIGO.




Writer: Fardoc

Date Sun Apr 23 10:42:58 2017

To All Thaxanos Wargar Chaos Grumf Jiffy Staldrache Erebaal Imm Nadrik Storyline RP

Subject To Apprehend a Traitor - The Capture (Part 1)



Fardoc flew in a circling loop around the entrance to the cavern. The
Ironbreakers hole was large but not nearly large enough to accommodate a
dragon, should it become necessary to go in after the company. Like a
buzzing inside his ear, a rasping, menacing voice echoed in his mind.

"Ah ear your bloodae lads trampin through tha land. Keep em awae less
you wan tue ave their eads returned to you on ah metal pike. You ear me
Thane?"

Fardoc slipped slightly in his hold onto Staldraches neck spike in surprise
at hearing the brazen voice of the traitor, Gorlend Warpeye, but managed to
respond in kind.

"Those lads are ah far sight braver than ye, traitor. Staldrache ahn ah see
none o yer so-called "friends" on the horizon. Ah think ye bae startin
tae feel the fires o righteousness bearin down upon ye, ahn yer growin
frightened."

Gorlends voice spat back his reply into the priests mind, scoffing at his
words, and Fardoc went on.

"Ye face ah company o Ironbreakers, ah score strong, clad in plate churned
out bae the finest loyal smiths in the land. Ah think ye show ah remarkable
arrogance. Should ye poke yer head outta yer little hole for even ahn
instant, the Steel ahn maeself will bae upon ye."

The maddened dwarven smith then began making incoherent threats, raging his
intent to slay the assembled dwarves of Thaxanos, and under the impression
that the Thane was there to steal away his craftwork.

Seething with anger at the thought of this traitor threatening to kill his
men, the priest bit back by informing Warpeye that he would rot in the black
cells of Thaxanos for his crimes. Upon hearing this, Gorlends shouts and
threats became even more unrestrained, calling out loudly for a creature
named Smarth, and saying that the Warp was willing to pay fairly for his
services, unlike Thaxanos. Suddenly, the conversation turned dire when, in
a fit of rage, Gorlends voice echoed in Fardocs mind, "Smarth! Set tha
charges!"

Fardoc lurched in his position on the Steels back, and shouted, "Staldrache!
Down tae the ground!"

Hurtling to the center of the monastery courtyard, Fardoc leapt from the
dragons back when he was at a safe level, hurriedly pulling a carved horn
from his belt and blasting a deafening blast. The traitor and the priest
continued to trade mental barbs, though Fardoc was distracted by clamoring
to warn his men. Calling back to Staldrache to take back to the skies and
search for any Warp reinforcements on the horizon, the priest dropped down
into the tunnel himself. He raced down the passageways and corridors,
searching for any sign of either his men, the traitor, or both.

Fardoc tore through the catacombs, dodging the enormous native lizards as
well as he could, and fighting those he could not escape. He made it deeper
and deeper into the complex, finding no sign of his troops, until he ran
almost headlong into a stout dwarf, clad not in the armor of an Ironbreaker,
but in ragged robes and an apron. He had been standing post in front of a
narrow opening in the rocks, a short passageway leading back further into
some unknown part of the catacombs.

The younger dwarf shouted, "Ere! Ere!" And immediately set upon the priest
with vigor. Shaking off his surprise, Fardoc began to do battle. Chanting
his hymns and letting fly with his spells, the stout dwarf began shouting
that he was just an apprentice, that he was just helping inside the forge,
yet he did not stop his attack. Finally, broken and weary, the younger
apprentice collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath and bleeding from his
many wounds.

Fardoc, having already decided to be merciful to the young dwarf, due to his
youth and obvious terror of the retribution of either Gorlend or the Warp,
approached him and began to calmly heal the sores and sickness that had been
cast on the dwarf during the duel. The apprentice merely looked up at the
older dwarf and said, "Nae bother, ahm dead anyway," before losing coherence,
mumbling to himself before his head slumped against the wall, unconscious.




Writer: Crelius

Date Sun Apr 23 13:56:58 2017

To All Immortal RP

Subject Entities of Sin Part 3: Vigil



In the darkness he sat. As he had for years now. A crude obsidian shelf
provided his sole place of rest, carved millennia ago from the dim magmatic
flows of the cavern. Here he sat. A watcher in the grim darkness.
Eternity had been offered to him many times over his years. Eternity now
was demanded of him. This was his Vigil.

The sulphuric atmosphere of the chamber would choke most men. Even Crelius
drew breathes carefully and through practiced diligence. Channels of molten
malignance arched out about the chambers foothold to spill into a great
chasm below. Their exhaust was no mans refuge.

A weapon of some repute laid upon the volcanic addled ground at his feet.
An object of sentience and legend. The hammer provided him with what little
communication he might muster with the outside world. It hummed.

The venerable shadowknight frowned. Grasping the pommel in what could only
be a gesture of reluctance. His mind was enveloped with the sending of one
he did not expect.

Lord General Mercerion of Gareth.

Normally he would reserve such a calling as misstep or wronged clairvoyance.
He had however established an agreement with the General decades ago. While
the two of them were sworn mortal enemies, they had reached acknowledgment
in a sense. When matters of the realm were beset by those of chaos, or
those outside of the prime powers, they would attempt to put aside their
differences.

"Sin," Was the message Crelius received. Pondering it he stood from his
post. Considering what this message might implicate.

A short vision of Mercerions predicament flowed into Crelius mind. A vision
of hosts beyond the likes of the gods. Empowered by emotion and mortal
frailty. Visions of mortal flocks being manipulated by themselves and taken
into some kind of domain.

"Hmmmmm," Crelius thought to himself. He had heard of such beings, wrought
only of obscure tales and of a time before the gods

Crelius grasped the hammer, holstering it in a sheath beneath the seam of
his robes. Standing he offered a low prayer, intoning to his master that he
would return to his Vigil soon.

In a reluctant advance he turned and left the underground abysm. The
Reliquary.




Writer: Mercerion

Date Sun Apr 23 15:25:21 2017

To All Immortal Religion Storyline Knightood Aliera

Subject Entities of Sin Part 4: Shinalstin Catacombs



Mercerion had tried to get the monk's attention for nearly an hour,
having recognized the look in his eyes. The man was a kindred, and could
send his mind elsewhere. Mercerion was curious to where this monk had sent
his mind, and why he maintained it thusly. After the hour was up, Mercerion
left the altar room and went back into the catacombs. He had to admit,
there was an odd dread about this place. Warm, dry, and dark, with a
foreboding sense and wind that hit recesses and hollows with just the right
pitch to create haunting melodies, and trick the mind into thinking there
were things here that were not.

Constantly, the Crown General felt as if he perceived whispers or malicious
chuckles in the darkness of the catacombs, but every time he turned around
or peered into the dark, he was met with more emptiness, and more recesses
with what must have been the shinalstin people, incarcerated within. The
remains of these people were vaguely humanoid, but clearly not human, or at
least not completely. The skeletons bore long, slender bones which angled
out from their shoulders. To Mercerion, they resembled wings, and as they
ran the length of the skeletal structures, that very well may be what they
were.

As he was investigating one of the recesses, he pulled out a small, odd
crystal. He was surprised to find it, and put it with the silver key he had
found as well, just as he felt something cold run through him, as if some
creature was trying to sap the life directly from him. In a single motion
he turned and drew his katana, the holy power imbued into the blade lit the
area in a harsh blue-white flash of power as the blade connected with the
source of the malevolence.

With a howl the guardian that had attacked Mercerion burst into a flaming
vapor, dispersed by the blue-white holy power of the blade. There was
nothing left of the creature, whatever it had been. The General narrowed
his gaze, and looked around again. Perhaps there was more to this place
than he had realized. He would have to continue his search.




Writer: Ancaladar

Date Sun Apr 23 17:27:00 2017

To All Shalonesti ( Imm Rp Storyline )

Subject Blinded by Greed


From atop a platform mounted high upon a great vallenwood tree, Ancaladar
watched the sun set upon the horizon. For the wisened elf, the day had been
one he could call quiet. It had been anything but. He stood there now,
enjoying the beauty of the home he had worked tirelessly for years to defend.
It was moments like these that he looked forward to when the ever changing
tides of battle were in their favor. The elves returned home to spend what
precious time they had with their families. No one knew when the next call to
arms would come.

It was not a call to arms that jarred Ancaladar from his reverie this eve. The
Vallens were abuzz with talk of a strange, infectious influence sweeping
through the markets. Some elves felt compelled to discard their wealth,
showering it among the people. Others behaved in a completely different
manner, driven instead to cling to what coin they had as preciously as their
own lives. Word travelled the lands of some strange creature standing amidst
the markets of New Thalos, and reached Ancaladar's ears. Retrieving his staff,
he turned away from the sunset.

Riding upon the blessed wings of the gryffon, it was not long before he
reached the desert markets. They were even more lively than usual, though for
a different reason altogether, it seemed. At the center of the market there
was a great form. As the gryffon pulled him closer the world seemed to dim.
Darker and darker it grew until his sight failed him completely. Urging his
feathered ally to retreat, he distanced himself from the presence, but his
sight did not return. He instructed the gryffon to return to Shalonesti, where
he was deposited in front of the healer, who was more than willing to take his
coin.

Blindness dispelled, he turned back toward the sands. ...only to lose his
sight again. Exasperated, he returned home, and did not venture toward New
Thalos again.




Writer: Aliera

Date Sun Apr 23 21:15:44 2017

To All Immortal Religion Storyline Knighthood

Subject Into the Abyss Part 1: Sloth and the Temple of Devion



Returning from the Thalosian streets and the battle with the
manifestation of Greed, Aliera had went to the Temple first seeking guidance
once more and then to her Office, already dreading the sight she knew to
await her there. Wrapping her own wounds from the battle she cast a glance
over her desk and attempted to tamp down the feeling of dread that
accompanied the ever-growing stack of missives upon it.

With thousands taken, new reports had flooded into her office from the
various Kingdoms of the missing, stacked on top of her previous work on the
subject and now threatening to topple the already precarious piles already
littering her desk. Descriptions of both the missing and their last known
locations were now laced through with the sketch of odd pieces of broken
demonic script. Some of them had been left in the place of those taken from
Althainia, if reports were to be believed, and others written in her own
hand, drawn from life as she looked at those marked and returned. It was a
crude if hopefully somewhat effective method of filing as she tried to make
sense of it all, or any of it for that matter, but she had to at least try.




Just as Aliera began to look over the last reports coming in, Hasaki spoke
to her yet again with more questions that begged answers seeming to lead to
darker and darker places. Frowning, she took up her shield and sought him
out, in the Temple of Devion. She truly hated this place, of course her
hatred for it had nothing to do with the fact that she had failed to destroy
it, but that certainly did not endear the temple to her either. And now,
one of her Squires was being tortured again, in this place and that she
refused to abide.

Technically Hasaki was not her Squire in so much that she was his mentor,
but she was one of his Generals, and with her oath she had taken each and
every Page, Squire and Knight in the Keep into her care. The embodiment, or
at least spirit of Sloth had taken a particular interest in Hasaki and sworn
to continue to do so- and it was this that that now seemed to be torturing
him even now as she rushed into the Temple.

Denth was with him, the Nameless elf she had seen earlier in his company,
and one she had been praying for in regard to his dalliance with a
Verminasian, though little of her concern was spared for the morality,
lacking or supposed, in the young Elfs love life at the moment. He was
terrified, the Elf, and rightfully so. The Temple was a place of lies to
begin with and this malevolent thing now infested even this vile place with
acid and sulfur. The sounds of thousands of skittering feet and claws
joined the chattering of Denths teeth in a nearly deafening assault to her
ears as she drew her sword to defend her squire further.

Speaking to the voice in the darkness she staked her claim aloud for it to
hear, as if her drawn sword were not enough. 'You have no claim on my
Squire or my Knights, show yourself or be gone!


Following the sounds in the chamber with her sword she tried to pinpoint the
voice, even as it spoke again of devouring the soul of Hasakis little
sister, the implied threat striking a cord with each of them in the room and
drawing a hiss and another vow from the Priestess that the child would not
be left in the danger she was in.




Writer: Aliera

Date Sun Apr 23 21:21:07 2017

To All Immortal Religion Storyline Knighthood

Subject Into the Abyss Part 2: Sloth and the Temple of Devion



Hasaki sought to bargain now, and eyes blinked in the darkness and the
skittering increased in chamber before acid from the roof too amplified,
promising more than the flesh wound it had granted to him on previous
occasion had she and the elf not intervened. Shalonesti was here now the
Senator and another known to her, responding to Denths call no doubt, though
she had been nearly too focused to recognize them.

Her own words rang in her head from the night before, in effort to stay her
Knights and lend them the valor that would be needed to continue to face
such dangerous foes, ... To counter sin you must use virtue...

It was Sloth that had attacked Hasaki and by All accounts, and the counter
to Sloth, was Sacrifice. Sloth was self-serving as All of the deadly sins
were but Sloth... Was without care. Stirred by nothing and for nothing
simply for selfish gain, in short, a failure to do what you should.

But this was not something she should do, it was beyond that, it was what
she must do.

{uGive me the boy... Give him to me and I will tell you..
The voice
started, but she heard no more of the honeyed words plying lies in this
temple of deception, instead her own voice sounded in the temple, I will
not. You will take me first before I surrender him to you. He is not yours
for the taking.
Denth and Hasaki both spoke against it, but she would not
permit the Squire to be taken, she had to protect him, and All the others
she possibly could.

Eyes blinked in the darkness, nearly within an arms breath of Hasaki once
more, but they were focused on her for a moment before All manner of insects
began to crawl into the temple, giving form to the skittering sounds that
had haunted the dark. The Priestess stood her ground as the insects swarmed
around her feet and over the floor and walls of the temple, and the voice
spoke again, {u"I will take the woman with sssuch Pride in her heart. And you
will have your ansswerss. Sstep forward, mortal, into my embrace.


Hasaki pleaded with her, but she issued the order, Go to the Keep. Now.
She had meant every word, seeking to send him as far from here as she could
and knowing he would refuse her, stepped forward, seeking to meet the demon
head on. Her own words echoed in her head from a time much longer again
now, It is not thinking less of yourself, but of yourself less, the courage
of heart to be able to accept the sacrifice involved with a difficult
task...
It accused her of Pride, but there was a counter to that also, in
something this being knew nothing of, Humility.

It only took one step forward and she was overcome. The darkness, acid, and
insects swarmed forward in an instant, the cacophony of noise and movement
erupting violently as the floor swayed beneath her and she was entirely
consumed.




Writer: Zarina

Date Sun Apr 23 21:33:14 2017

To All (Imm RP)

Subject Nightmares and Racing Thoughts



She had struggle with falling asleep after the day's events, but his warm
presence gave her enough peace to sleep for a few hours. She woke up
screaming, ears flattening against her head, the natural darkness of the
room adding to her night terror, before his soft voice spoke, 'You are safe,
Zarina, you are safe, you are here.
' That calmed her and the orbs of light
lightening the room confirmed to her that she was indeed at home. In her
dream she had been back in that dark place, the chill penetrating her skin,
reaching her bones, freezing her core. The sound of despair, of lost hope
and pain, filling her ears. She could still feel her body being wrapped and
squeezed, could feel her should being seared. Even now, hours later, her
shoulder throbbed with pain, the rune marking her skin remained fresh,
unwilling to heal.

He brought her tea and she took it, giving thanks and a loving smile before
taking a sip, letting it warm her. Her ears twitch atop her head as her
mind raced, could the missing people be in that dark place? Could they be
reached and brought back? Where they being kept elsewhere? Where was
General Aliera? Why had she been taken, why where they torturing her?
Zarina hoped and prayed to All the Gods of Balance and Light, that the lady
would be found and return soon.

Zarina's mind jumped from thought to thought, unable to concentrate and
quiet down. Why had they been taken and marked? What did the runes mean?
Not just in meaning of the actual things, but as a whole, what did they mean
about those who had been abducted and returned? Could they be possessed by
such? Were they beacons for more danger? Her shoulder hurt, her skin felt
on fire, the rune seemed to throb. She worried... So much about everything
and everyone. They had to be strong, had to work together to defeat these
demons, no one could afford the luxury to just sit idle.




Writer: Pharis

Date Sun Apr 23 22:31:11 2017




Writer: Ashtiel

Date Sun Apr 23 23:36:55 2017

To All Verminasia Equinox Imm Shadow Religion

Subject Seven Sins - Darkness


'Run! '

The word hit her weary mind and sunk through the fog and for a brief moment,
Ashtiel hesitated to obey. The poisonous insects swarmed towards the
guillotine, their writhing mass rolling over those unfortunate enough to
have fallen asleep like a dark and oily wave. With one last look toward the
one who had screamed the order, she turned from the beast and leapt from the
platform to attempt her escape.

Her legs felt like lead, each step more sluggish and unbalanced than the one
before it and every bite from the insects that chased her flooded her with
sickness. Every movement cost her precious energy and she hadn't enough to
make it to her goal.

The temple loomed before her, a dark beacon she hadn't the remaining
strength to reach and so she turned to face her fate with what bravery she
could muster.

The mandibles of the demonic creature made a chittering sound as it drew
back to stare down upon her with eight eyes and then it came, a web of
darkness that swallowed her and extinguished everything with it.





Writer: Ashtiel

Date Mon Apr 24 00:19:06 2017

To All Verminasia Equinox Imm Shadow Religion

Subject Seven Sins - Nightmares


She woke with a start to find herself still sitting upright on the
cushioned couch before the window in her mother's parlor. A pained sound
fell from her lips in a gasp even as consciousness stole the reason for it
from her mind, wiping away the remnants of the nightmares that had plagued
her attempt at rest.

Still, the paralyzing sense of dread seized hold of her and she tensed, her
eyes nervously searching the room before she forced herself to settle and
breathed a heavy sigh of frustration. Beads of cold sweat ran down the back
of her neck.

Her usually carefully controlled world had turned to confusion. She had
woken in an unfamiliar place, her memory of the day's events stolen from
her. She had been informed of the visit from the demon of Sloth and while
she found it incredulous, she trusted those who told her of it.

She had been ordered to rest and ordered to wake and moved about between
homes for her own safety but none of it made sense of the feeling of urgency
that plagued her. None of it alleviated the unsettled feeling she carried
within.

With each passing moment, her frustration with her own failure to remember
grew and every time she attempted to speak of the Sins she was paralyzed by
anxiety she could not explain.

'Its alright'

Her mother moved closer to her as she whispered it and Ash cast her an
embarrassed look in apology, uncertain whether she truly believed it would
be.



 


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