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Writer: Shilo
Date Tue Jun 18 09:12:26 2019
To All gray_church Tief ( IMM RP Taliena )
Subject A Garden Worth Tending
Kneeling within the garden of her matron, the ariel began to work and
toil amongst the plants. The garden was self sustaining, of course; her
attentions served only herself, and the small handful of struggling
plants she worked with. There was an undeniable satisfaction in such
service, one in which Shilo freely indulged. The weight and cares of
the wider world were put on hold as her hands worked amongst the
blooms, pruning and treating the more sickly of the flower beds.
The garden was only a stone's throw north of Arkane; and yet the design
was such that she scarecly saw the traffic of the northern road; barely
heard the passing of those who sought to banish the spirits of the
funeral home nearby. The garden was ignored, and it was this isolation
that the ariel returned for, day after day.
The world had been shocked with unimaginable violence and abhorrant
travesties - which, for Algoron, was saying something. And yet, in this
little garden of Taliena's, everything stood still. The flowers grew
and prospered and died, to be replaced by more. A constant little oasis,
free from the tribulations of the world beyond. The worst that happened
here was the occasional, pesky ariel, trying nobly to help flowers that
didn't actually need her help.
Shilo's hands paused at their work, hovering above a malnourished lily.
A simple spell of nature's growth would see it flourishing again; clean
and pure. For a moment, her mind returned to other times, when another
had knelt alongside her in the garden, to toil and work pleasantly. A
soft smile touched her face, and she returned to her task.
In less than a week, of course, she would face a more daunting challenge
than a wilting plant. An open gathering to All at the gray church's
Icewall mission. An attempt to bring a serenity akin to this garden's
to the varied people of Algoron, if only for a few hours. No simple tea
party could cure the ills of the world; no pleasant gathering could act
as balm to the pain of lost gods and defiled innocence.
And yet...perhaps it would be a start.
A shadow fell across the ariel's back as she mused, blotting out the
pleasant warmth of the sun. Out of habit, Shilo froze, fighting the
urge to panic at the sudden interruption. Behind her, a voice echoed.
"Oh look, a garden. Oh look, a Shilo."
Instantly, her posture changed, her head tilting back to look upside
down at the sillouhetted figure. A smile broke across her face as she
turned towards her sudden companion, relaxing visibly.
"Hello, sir."
(OOC: Reminder! "PotLuck Tea Party" at the Gray Church Mission,
Saturday, at 2 PM System Time! Come RP and enjoy some stress-free,
politics-free (hopefully) socializing!)
Writer: Cieran
Date Wed Jun 19 14:11:33 2019
To All Althainia Cayenna
Subject Road to War: Time for a New Lesson
Cieran slowly walked among the men in the camp, his eyes surveying the
scene before him as a smile played over his lips. The sounds of swords and
pikes clanging against metal rang out from every corner of the marsh. Brows
were drenched in sweat as the afternoon sun climbed into the sky, the
oppressive humidity almost unbearable. The Captain had done a good job in
Cieran's abscence, the men were much improved after the endless drilling.
Their steps were measured, footing sure before they attacked. They used the
terrain to their advantage, pushing their foes hard until they stumbled and
then they were on them.
Cieran paused his walk as he stopped next to the Captain, nodding his
approval to the man, "Well done, they know how to fight in the wilds.... ".
The Captain nodded, taking the praise in stride with a nod and smile. "Now
we have a much different task to show them. Round up All of your druids and
rangers, have them report to me. " The Captain raised a brow in question,
"Sir? " Cieran turned away from the man as he set off, raising his voice to
call back over his shoulder, "Now they must learn to -defend- in the wilds".
A small tinge of dread ran up the Captain's back at the sight of the smile
on the Major's face before he turned fully away.
Writer: Cieran
Date Wed Jun 19 14:49:18 2019
To All Althainia Cayenna
Subject Road to War: Lessons Learned the Hard Way
A thick fog surrounded the entire moonlit area around the small
detachment of men. Their grips on the their weapons tightening, knuckles
turning white as sudden cries of alarm could be heard coming from all
around, the yelps quickly silenced. The leader of the group took a few very
tentative steps forward, ordering his men to keep their heads up and eyes
open. Cieran watched intently from his perch high up in a nearby oak, his
body pressed tightly up against the trunk so as to leave no trace of a
silhouette. Patiently and without a sound he waited, the group of men
moving closer to the center of the ring of rangers lying in wait to ambush
them. As if the acute vision and detection spells were not enough, Cieran
and the rangers could hear every snapped twig and muttered curse. The
soldiers might as well have been glowing for All the good their hurried
"shhhhh's" did them. Losing his patience, Cieran closed his eyes for a
moment, the words of a spell falling silently from his lips before the trap
was sprung. Vines began to come alive and move deftly to ensare the feet
and sword arms of the soldiers, the rangers springing into action as blades
moved to cover bare throats and hover there. This fight was over before it
even began.
Cieran dropped without sound from his perch, shaking his head as he lifted a
hand, signaling the end of the exercise. "Silence!! You must learn to move
and communicate in silence. You must move as a group, not individuals! You
must pay attention to every sign, every out of place branch, every moving
shadow, every uneasy feeling. You must procces it All in a moment and learn
to decipher the threats! " Cieran paced among the men, moving from one to
the other to meet their gaze indivually. "You must -feel- your way
through... You have to sense the eyes on you, the blades poised to strike.
" Cieran heaved a heavy sigh, realizing as he saw the slumped shoulders and
bowed heads the men were nearing a breaking point. "It is no easy task,
know that. Don't be overly down upon yourselves... Keep working at it, it
will come, I promise. However for now I think you All deserve a break and
some leisure time... Everyone come in, thats it for now. "
As the men slowly began to circle up and everyone headed for camp, Cieran
walked beside the Captain, "They need something to take their mind off of it
all for a bit.... Suggestions? " The Captain glanced around at the men,
Cieran followed his gaze and noticed several shared knowing smiles. "Well
sir.... We have heard the Emperor let the troops in Gryphonne... Have some
boxing matches... " Cieran chuckled and smirked a bit, looking out over his
troops "Fine, fine.... Set it up Captain. " Cieran smiled and shook his
head as a unified cheer went up from the soldiers.
Writer: Cieran
Date Wed Jun 19 15:37:43 2019
To All Althainia Cayenna
Subject Road to War: Lessons Learned the Hard Way II
Cieran stood by the makeshift ring, sipping from his flask as he watched
the matches. Cheering and guffawing like the rest of the soldiers, a good
time was being had by all. He had turned downed several challengers,
deciding to simply watch and let the men enjoy the break.
Match after match went by until a clear champion was becoming evident, a
mountain of a Sergeant with tree trunks for arms. With one final blow he
felled his latest opponent to a raucous round of applause and cheers. The
young Sergeant lifting his hands over his head in triumph before calling out
to Cieran, "No one left to fight sir.... C'mon, lets see what you got!! "
Cieran again quietly shook his head, this time to a round of playful enough
"boooo's". "C'mon sir... You dont want them All to think you're afraid!!
" Cieran chuckled and shook his head, "Nice try Sergeant. I am no boxer, I
am a fighter. You have one the day, enjoy it! " Cieran turned back to the
men and his flask only to hear the Sergeant utter "Well seems like the
fighter is afraid of getting his arse kicked... " A round of "ohhhhhh's"
made there way around the camp as Cieran turned and caught a pair of gloves
that were tossed his way, putting them on as he ducked into the ring, the
Sergeant smiling from ear to ear.
The fight went as Cieran expected, he landed almost as good as he got, but
in the end the Sergeant was starting to get the better of him. The larger
man's reach could only be countered with speed for so long before Cieran
tired. With a final jab and cross that almost cracked Cieran's jaw the
Major fell to a knee, holding up a hand to signal he was defeated. Cieran
conceded between breaths, "Well fought Sergeant, most impressive". As
Cieran stood slowly, the Sergeant turned to the crowd and began to yell and
joke with the men, "So much for the fighter!!! ". Cieran let out a sigh,
but began to move toward the rings exit in silence, smiling good naturedly.
"Perhaps we just found out why he isn't a General anymore boys!!! " The
laughter faded into nervous chuckles as those near the ring saw Cieran halt,
spit out a mouthfull of blood, and turn to face the Sergeant. "Take off the
gloves Segeant... " The Sergeant laughed it off, shaking his head "I don't
think you want me to do that sir, I might kill ya without these! " Cieran's
voice was calm and level in his response, "Take off the gloves. " The
Sergeant uneasily did as he was told and both men began to circle once more.
Without warning Cieran delivered a swift blow to the Sergeant's throat,
causing the man to cough violently. Cieran leaned in and followed up with a
devastaing elbow to the bridge of the Sergeant's nose, blood splattering out
across the ground. The Sergeant let loose with a dizzied haymaker that was
easily ducked and countered with a vicious headbutt by the Major. The
Sergeant's legs giving out beneath him he crashed to the ground in a
bloodied heap.
Cieran stood over the man for a moment before turning to the soldiers "A
fighter does what it takes to win... He uses whatever opputunity he is
given to survive!!! This is what I want each of you to become, a fighter!!!
Fight for your home.... But also fight to come home to it!!! A war has no
referee, no bell, no rules.... Remember that!!! " Cieran turned back to
the man on the ground, "And Sergeant, remember to show your enemy respect
even if they don't show it to you." Cieran reach out a hand to help the
Sergeant up and offered him a shoulder to lean on once he was standing, "And
be sure to show respect even in victory, understood? " The Sergeant nodded
as best he could whilst holding his nose back. "Good.... Now come, let me
get you a whiskey"
Writer: Zisuli
Date Thu Jun 20 22:07:46 2019
Writer: Wyltte
Date Sat Jun 22 08:54:12 2019
To All Necrucifer Religion RP Immortal
Subject Failture
Wyltte spent the next few days with repairs, the loose linen workshirt he
wore dirty and frayed at the ends. The labor was good for him, callous
forming on his hands from hammering pegs to lock in the fence posts.
Despite the cold, his forehead was always misted with sweat. He wiped a few
errant strands away from his eyes with the back of his hands. His hair had
started to get longer, just above his shoulders. It was more a uniformed
silver now, although bits of white, grey and black could also be seen. At
least he still had hair, thank the Dark Gods for that.
Across the camp, the sound of activity started to pick back up. Men and
women alike worked diligently at their duties and hauling in supplies that
were marked to go to the front. Wyltte stood back with his arms folded
across his chest as he watched them. No longer in the Deathwatch, his
primary responsibility was taking care of the King and Queen now. He did
not need to babysit them, they were more than capable of protecting
themselves if need be. He did make sure that whatever challenge they faced
and whatever threat lay ahead, that would become his focus. Right now, the
biggest threat they faced was uncertainity. How does one fight against
that, he wondered.
"Wyltte!" He heard call from across the camp. "Wyltte Kayen!" . Wyltte
turned to see a group of five or six men walk his direction. The swagger in
their step and the cockiness in their gaze made the hairs on Wyltte's neck
stand up.. Well, the fine ones at least. He does make it a point to
manscape a little. He loved bears, but didn't need to pretend to be one.
He got that out of his system awhile ago.
Then men approached Wyltte, and the head of the small grouping stood
forward. Large man, over 6' or so, thick red beard. Wyltte recognized him
instantly. It was one of the Northmen he contracted to help the
Verminasians settle in these parts when they first came ashore. A well-paid
sellsword.
"Wyltte Kayen, Son of No One" the man begins, chin jutting and haughtiness
in his voice. "What brings you back from the dead?"
Wyltte laughs to himself then answers the man. "Isaak Ivanson, son of...
Well, Ivan, I would take a stab at based on your last name. It would be
awkward to be named Ivanson, and be the bastard child of someone else. Like
myself back in my barbarian days. Gods, those were a blur" he quips to
himself. Wyltte narrows his eyes and looks at the man a little closer.
"But you don't look anything like me. Besides, any child of mine would be
born with a much bigger brain, and most definitly bigger ba..." . He felt
it coming. That sense again danger was close. Wyltte took a step back just
as the swing crossed his sightline. Isaak's balance was off now, and Wyltte
gave his shoulder a good hard shove, sending him sprawling to the ground.
"Come to get prove your still a man to your friends, did we?" Wyltte asks
of Isaak, now getting to his feet angrily.
"You abandoned us! Fled at the first sign of struggle. Your honeyed words
inspired everyone, and then you decided it was too difficult, and ran!"
The man screams up at him. Another lunge at Wyltte while his friends egged
him on. Wyltte lifts his leg and kicks the man right in the stomach,
forcing him to double over. Wyltte's eyes light up in anger as he takes a
step forward.
"You who bare no burdens, whose only existence is predicated on the fact
that you were a drunken night mistake... You dare to tell me of my own
failures? As if I do not bear them on my very soul? At this, Wyltte picks
the man up by his shirt collar and looks into his eyes. "I know where I
stand. I know what I've done, and I sure as hell don't need someone whose
own service can be bought with coin telling me my part".
The man started to look like he was going to yell at Wyltte again, but a
massive right hand struck him full on in the jaw as he slumped to the
ground.
Writer: Wyltte
Date Tue Jun 25 05:03:31 2019
To All Necrucifer Immortal Religion RP
Subject Words
Wyltte pulled the hood of his chainmail coif down, letting it rest
against the base of his neck while his hair fell down into his face. He was
tired, but it was that good tired that came with hard work and
accomplishment. But it was still tired. He slid down against the wooden
post of the creaky walkway. This was as good as place to rest as any. The
scream of gnomes could be heard far, far below him. If they didn't breed
like rabbits, perhaps this wouldn't have been a problem. But they did. If
there is anything a gnome liked, it's a good snogging.
Wyltte put the tip of his blade into the wood and flicked the hilt in a
counterclockwise motion, the fine point so sharp it didn't even start
drilling into the wood. Ashtiel made a perfect blade for him, and its
quality was uncomparable. He was appreciative of the people in his life,
and as he watches the blade spin on its perfect axis, the glints of light
reflecting off the blood-stained metal forced his mind into a state of deep
thought. Ashtiel was one of the many he thought of. Dedicated. Strong.
Hurt.
They All were. The King, the mountain of service given to the cloth. He
was unable to answer the people's questions as to why this happened to
Necrucifer's most loyal servants. And they were loyal. No loyalty like the
dedication of one who serves Him.
Jermichael and the Keep. Dedicated Knights who just wished to bring upon
the realization to the world of what they knew. Those who follow the heart
find that it will bleed. This wasn't a curse, just a truth.
Those of Evil feel deeper. They are able to feed their passion for life,
serve as they wish. There was no one with a neck on their throat forcing
them to behave a certain way. They ere free. And they were vilified for
it. Made to believe they were soulless, emotionless bastards.
People forget the time when Verminasia was the bastion of iniquity. When
Argg ran around with his harm of slave girls, and slavery was rampant. All
gone, as common sense prevailed. People signed themselves up for a new type
of slavery now, forced into submission to the Gods of Light who want to
control their passion and make them have to "obey the rules". Why? Is
Algoron not the place to explore every possibility? Why limit yourself.
And then there was his wife, Zisuli. Ever the dedicated Servant of
Darkness, and she was not even born into the Faith of the Master, although
she followed the teachings of the Darkness with more dedication than half
who were raised in the church of Necrucifer. If there was ever someone who
proved her worth to Him, it was she. Yet, she sat by and watched All of
them bear the weight of the words the world hurled against them.
Words that pierced their hearts with their misinformation and slander.
Words that tore at their own soul. Words were at the very heart of it all.
People wield them as blades for more sharp than any vorpal edge, and because
those of evil feel more deeply, they wound. And yet people wield them with
reckless abandon. Trash the intentions of those who just wanted to worship
in the only way they know how. With All they are.
At that moment is when it struck him. Words. Flowing around Wyltte was an
almost imperceivable shield of ancient words, their soft glow protecting his
skin as he recovered fromt he fighting. Words were... Well, without them,
most magics cannot be used. Those who are silent cannot conjure the power
of the Gods and Goddesses of magic. Those who cannot read cannot summon
magic from a page.
He knows. He tried to read a scroll once as a shaman, only to see the
letters dance about the parchment. He would never understand why someone as
learned as a shaman couldn't read, but he was past that now.
So much power is derived from words. So much so that if perhaps there was a
way to silence them at large, perhaps that wild magic, that Umbra of the
Master... May finally be louder...
Writer: Kaerick
Date Tue Jun 25 20:38:31 2019
Writer: Ashtiel
Date Wed Jun 26 07:12:08 2019
To Verminasia All ( Necrucifer Imm RP )
Subject The Red Queen
Waidinesh Village
Iolanthe Province
----------------------------------------
The midnight hour brought with it clouds of black that shrouded the moons,
dimming their combined light enough that none filtered through the dome of
dark leaded glass that crowned the Sanctum of Eeyr. The interior of the
ancient temple was thus dark save for the gloomy glow cast by a series of
beeswax candles that lined the aisle between the obsidian pews and the
pulpit from which the deformed priest observed his congregation.
Igrus lowered the dark hood of his robe as he finished his opening 'prayer',
letting the flicker of candlelight fully illuminate the heavily veined and
twisted features of his once human face. His calculating gaze of sickly
green swept over the crowd, noting the new faces amongst them with a smug
sense of satisfaction. The temple was packed. Not an empty seat remained
within the pews and his flock had grown enough since his last sermon that
the latest arrivals were forced to take a place in the darkness that
gathered along the edges of the room.
He let his gaze stop to linger on a few of them and let the heavy silence
weigh upon them before he allowed the contempt he felt for them to show,
just enough, upon his features to be censuring without offending their
fragile egos. 'You are weak. All of you. Herding together even now.
Dependent upon one another for survival. Each of you cling to the ways of
old when All that has ever afforded you is struggle and chains. You were
slaves to a Master you served without question. The foolishness of your
sacrifice has been revealed. The farce of Necrucifer's faith and the rule
of your Gods has proven to be nothing more than trickery. Their promised
reward shown to be no more than a ruse to keep you in your place as their
ever complacent chattel. ' His withered hands animated his words, their
motion setting the candle light to dance frenetically across the pulpit
before him.
'The Dark Pantheon is headless. ' A cold glance over his shoulder towards
the desecrated statue of Necrucifer drew a sneer to his thin lips and Igrus
allowed his audience the time to follow his gaze, to view the headless
statue of the God their ancestors had constructed this temple to serve.
'Your faith is lost to you. What choice will follow? Will you sell your
damned souls to the next who would use your service for their own ends or
will you choose to shrug off the mantel of slavery and claim control of your
fate? '
The rumble of thunder drew the priest's attention from the statue to the
dome overhead in anticipation of the flash of lightning but it was not
forthcoming. Upon turning back to those gathered, he found them All to be
staring at him, riveted with the wide-eyed fear of prey. A befitting look
for sheep.
Igrus spread his hands wide as he implored them, 'Decry your divine owners!
Rise up and claim ... Ugnh. '
The blade that appeared between the blasphemer's parted lips protruded a
good six inches and his blood flowed down the length of gilded metal to pool
in the center of the obsidian pulpit. A number of his teeth, dislodged by
the blade, floated within. The priest let out a sickening gurgle, blinking
once as his last breath rattled around the metal and a fresh spurt of blood
poured over his bottom lip to drench his chin and the front of his robe.
The gasp of the crowd died with him.
The sword pulled free slowly, the wet sound of it's release the only thing
audible in the room as Igrus slumped forward. The menace on Ashtiel's face
as she flicked the blood from her blade and looked over them held the crowd
still within their seats for several moments. The inherent threat present
in her aspect as she circled the pulpit gave them good reason for pause.
Ashtiel toppled a candle intentionally with her free hand as she moved. The
priest's robes caught flame as the Queen advanced upon the congregation.
----------------------------------------
Writer: Ashtiel
Date Wed Jun 26 08:16:42 2019
To Verminasia All ( Necrucifer Imm RP )
Subject The Red Queen - Part 2
----------------------------------------
The wails of the dying filled the temple with a discordant chorus of
screams. Those who tried to flee found their path to the heavy iron doors
blocked by the members of the Verminasian Crownguard who had infiltrated
this gathering under the guise of peasants. Only a few of the villagers had
brought any form of weapons and even those armed amongst them were no match
for the well-trained guard.
The Verminasian Queen and her guard cut through them quickly. Some fifty
were left dead by the time they reached the exit. Two guards opened the
door with a metallic screech as Ashtiel approached.
Outside the temple, the soldiers of the Verminasian Deathwatch had been
busy. Every man, woman and child within the village who had not taken part
in the Warpling priest's gathering had been gathered together within the
temple's courtyard. The soldiers circled the entire perimeter of the
temple. All waited for their Queen.
As Ashtiel appeared, her solemn face streaked with a mash of fresh blood, a
cheer ran through the soldiers of the watch. Weapons of royal make lifted
in unison to give a respectful salute. She tipped her head respectfully and
raised a hand for silence, her mismatched gaze hard as it turned on the
villagers huddled together fearfully before her.
'Who amongst you is Idarin? ' Ashtiel could not keep the anger from her
voice as she spoke. The rage still seethed within her at the sacrilege
these people had ignored or taken part in.
'Is me, yer grace. ' A lanky, weathered man seperated himself from the
crowd even as they dispersed to either side in attempt to avoid suffering
their Queen's wrath with him.
He removed the frayed hat from his head as he moved forward to kneel in
front of her. 'Am yer 'umble servant, yer grace. '
'You are the ONLY member of this village to have spoken up against the
heresy that has been allowed to fester here. ' Ashtiel studied the man who
dared not even look up at her for a heavy moment before continuing, 'In
reward, you may take your family and leave. I suggest you go now. Unless
you wish the pleasure of seeing what comes next. '
'Thank ye, yer grace! ' The man looked up at her, genuinely surprised to be
spared her wrath and grateful for the reprieve. He scrambled away from her
before she could change her mind. Her mismatched gaze followed him as he
collected his portly wife and a scrawny boy that looked quite a bit like him
from the crowd before the three of them rushed off. The sound of their
footfalls retreating echoed through the courtyard well after the three
disappeared from sight.
The Queen studied the remainder of them as she waited patiently for Idarin
and his family to depart. Their fearful faces were bathed in inconstant
moonlight.
'And the rest? ' The guard beside her shifted restlessly and gave the crowd
an indifferent glance as he voiced his question.
'They will die for allowing this trespass and burn with the others. See to
it. ' With a nod to seal her command, Ashtiel turned from them, heading
along the temple path to survey the village beyond. The soldiers of the
death watch set into the crowd as soon as their Queen and her guard were
clear of the courtyard. The fresh chorus of tortured screams brought a
faint smile to Ashtiel's bloodstained face and she took a moment to relish
the sound before beckoning her Advisor forward to join her as she walked.
'Atennim. I assume you've still got the list of the parents and children
who have volunteered their own in sacrifice should the demon returned? '
'I do, Your Majesty. ' He nodded at her, his expression as blank and
unreadable as ever.
'I trust you will see the families relocated to Waidenesh. It appears large
enough to accomodate them and I would think it best to have them close and
reachable should the need arise. '
----------------------------------------
Writer: Cieran
Date Wed Jun 26 08:35:30 2019
Writer: Feldritch
Date Wed Jun 26 21:33:34 2019
Writer: Aliera
Date Thu Jun 27 12:19:22 2019
Writer: Wyltte
Date Thu Jun 27 21:07:22 2019
To All Necrucifer Immortal Scorn RP Religion
Subject The Forge
There were two things that Wyltte knew about gnomes.
The first: With their smiling faces and insatiable love for All things
technological, they were the biggest threat Algoron faces. Well, other than
the celestial war of Gods raging in the heavens. But that's there. This is
here.
The second is their tiny little sausage fingers get stuck in the small
ringlets of his chainmail. Wyltte stood outside the doorway of Gabhoom
hill, picking small gnomish digits out of his armor with a grimace. His
forehead was drenched in sweat and his muscles ached, but he had completed
his training. Now to whatever was next.
Wyltte returned to the camp in Eastdrift, refreshed but still contemplating
all that had transpired. His realization of the power of words of magic,
his new path as the Lord Crownguard, his life outside the priesthood. It
was a dizzying array of thoughts constantly running through his brain.
As he went to the mess line to get some food, he noticed a few Deathwatch
soldiers looking at him in digust. Wyltte sneered back, looking down at
himelf to see what the commotion was about. He inspected his armor, looking
from head to toe trying to see why he was getting such nasty glares. A
young and nervous Shade came up to him, soft of voice but lean of build.
"Sir, Shade Igan reporting" he said to Wyltte. Wyltte lifts his hand to
stop the Shade, chuckling to himself.
"Relax Shade, you no longer need to report to me in such a way. What's
going on? Wyltte asks.
"Sir, you have... Well, a hitchhiker on your armor, Sir." At this, the
young Shade appeared to turn sick, facing away from Wyltte and vomitting
sickly All over the ground.
Wyltte looks at the sick Shade quizzically, watching as corn and potatoes
come barreling out of his mouth in waves. "What the devil are you talking
about?" Wyltte asks. The Shade only is able to use his unoccupied hand to
reach around and pat his own back. Wyltte took the hint and started to draw
up the chainmail hauberk. It was heavier than normal.
As he lifted it over head head, a sickening smell reached his own nose.
Wyltte threw the hauberk to the ground, and there it was. Clinging to his
back was the frozen remnants of a gnome who had tried to attack him from
behind. Many of them hated the sound of his voice, throwing themselves at
him in desperation while he was in the tunnels. This one apparently got
caught in his armor and he never noticed. Wyltte had walked from the port
to the camp this time to be alone with his thoughts. The mangled gnome had
frozen to his armor. Their weight was so insignificant, he had thought he
was just tired. Wyltte sneered at the mangled form and kicked at it with
incredible force. It shattered in sickly crackling explosion of frozen
gnome pieces, crimson and pink flesh crystalized by the cold.
At this, the entire chow line got sick. It was like a chain reaction,
people getting sick and spewing the contents of dinner everywhere. Wyltte
held his composure as he walked out of the mess agitated. "Inferior design,
bloody second-hand chainmail" he said to himself. He was not accustomed to
such heavy armor, and though he touted its protection capabilities, little
ringlets pulled at his chest and arm hair and felt like it was useless
against arrows.
Wyltte makes it over to the forge where a tired blacksmith hammered out some
bronze ingots into elongated shapes. He watched with fascination as he used
the heat and the hammer to expand the bronze into a small plate, hammering
curves into the disk until it started to take shape into a crude
breastplate. The heat of the forge and smell of the coal fire was a welcome
feeling, and Wyltte found himself taking off his shirt and wiping his brow
from the sweat beads forming.
The blacksmith looks over at Wyltte with a knowing nod as he quenches the
breastplate into a steaming vat of water. Wyltte steps over to him as he
rubs his hands together. "Mind if I try?" He asks. The blacksmith hands
Wyltte the hammer and steps away from the forge.
Writer: Feldritch
Date Thu Jun 27 22:08:21 2019
Writer: Feldritch
Date Thu Jun 27 23:20:22 2019
Writer: Kimara
Date Fri Jun 28 04:00:17 2019
To All Mercerion ( Nadrik Immortal Religion Kyrlynn )
Subject A New Direction
The skies were devoid of All but a few stray clouds that were quickly
swept away by the winds. The sun sat high in the sky while the silvery-grey
felar sat amidst the grassy fields where she had caught up to her prey. A
small brown rabbit squirmed anxiously as it awaited its fate, yet for All of
its concern and attempts to escape, All it would receive are loving pets and
the occasional gentle squeeze of a hug. All the while her thoughts were
otherwise taken away from the precious creature she held in her arms. It
was finally time to let go at long last.
A simple blue teardrop pendant rested on the ground in front of her, a
reminder of the faith she held dear for much longer than many would believe.
It had been years since Turpa's demise, yet it never swayed her from the
path she felt was right. She heard countless rumors that nearly All of the
followers had found solace with Zandreya. She was different however in that
while it would make sense for her to take shelter as the rest have, it would
not be true to her nature. Far too many times she had protected her kin
from invaders and even rare beasts from would-be hunters. Her calling lay
elsewhere. With Nadrik.
Speaking to the Emperor himself was enlightening on the subject. It brought
about many questions for herself and even more she would want answered
eventually. It wasn't until after a full cycle of the sun and moon had
passed that the truth of her devotion would come to light. Quite a few of
the questions she might of had were put to rest while contemplating each
tenet of Nadrik's faith. Some of them were certainly strange to her, but
the general concept was clear enough for her to understand. Some of which
she had to put it in terms she would remember. One in particular always
stood out to her when she went back over it again.
"If you fish in the wrong pond, you might go hungry tomorrow, but not today!"
That one phrase she had spoken without any doubt in her mind when the
mention of Nadrik forgiving the missteps of His faithful from Mercerion
resonated with her. She was not perfect by any means, but knowing errant
bolts of lightning would always find those who dared cross Turpa one too
many times was enough to make her tread carefully as often as possible. The
mere thought of being forgiven was unheard of for her, but it also meant
that even if she believes it to be right, even if it is wrong, a guiding
hand would be waiting rather than an execution.
By this point, she realized she had been clutching on to the poor rabbit a
little too tightly and it had fought fiercely against her grip until it
managed to escape.
"Oh! Ah! No! Come ba-... There goes another one.. Sorry little friend.
A lot on my mind lately. "
The time has truly come to send her own prayer to Nadrik. Reliquishing her
ties to Turpa was for the best in order to move on and follow a new path
that will with any luck give her a renewed sense of purpose.
"This day, I lay to rest a part of me that has kept me in quiet turmoil.
Turpa will never be forgotten for All that she has provided in the past.
From this day forward, I seek to bring about a greater good with Honor under
the watchful gaze of Nadrik. "
Writer: Cieran
Date Fri Jun 28 08:57:09 2019
Writer: Malichi
Date Fri Jun 28 10:50:39 2019
To All Imm Conclave RP
Subject A Message from the Shadows....
Malichi Necrose draws upon the darkness and fades into the shadows, undectable to All but the most strongest of magicks.....
Who?!?....Wha?!?.....What is that???.....
Out of the corner of his eye Malichi notices a dark entity disappearing around a corner, an uncommon occurance while existing between planes in his shadowform. The entity beckons him to follow. Following him Malichi arrives at the Temple of the Undead.
The Temple.....it's....it's different....
The Temple of the Undead seems to be shifting between this dimension and the next as it glows with a red aura. Humming can be heard from the insides as Malichi opens the door and follows. The dark entity is no where to be found, but the humming continues....
HUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
.......................HUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
.....................................................HUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
Malichi follows the hum as it gets louders and louder until he reaches a dead end. He touches the wall and his hand passes through it. He steps back, takes a deep breath, then jumps through the wall.........
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Malichi magically arrives in a cave he's never seen before. A cave not of Algoron. The walls are dark as ash and seem to be melting. Something glows in the center of the dark cave.
What is this thing?
In Malichi's hand seems to be a parchment made of cracked skin, dripping with blood, on the bloody parchment is the following.....
The time is coming........During the Month of the Shadow an ancient darkness shall spread through the land excaping this dimension.....A mist shall cover the land in darkness.......creeping from town to town.....the skies will open and drown the land, drowning your soul in tears.....The undead will appear from the shadows, spreading their stench and disease.......The DOOM is coming........you must prepare....or you will meet the same fate as the rest....death, creeping death spreading across the land.....crimson filling the streams, sadness filling your soul as the disease takes hold......rotting flesh and bone invading the lands of Algoron.....Death will be pleased....The DOOM is coming.....
What will I do????......I must warn the world of the coming DOOM.......
Writer: Zenthin
Date Sun Jun 30 19:35:59 2019
Writer: Zenthin
Date Sun Jun 30 19:41:43 2019
Writer: Rhik
Date Sun Jun 30 20:44:57 2019
Writer: Wyltte
Date Sun Jun 30 22:01:47 2019
To All Necrucifer Religion Roleplay
Subject A{ofla{ome
Rivets of sweat poured down Wyltte's forehead as he moved the back of his
hand to wipe them from his face. He only managed to leave coal-streaked
stains on his cheek as the sound of his hammer against the anvil rang
throught the whole camp. He may not protect the soldiers of Deathwatch with
his leadership now, but he can do so with his armor.
Except he sucked it.
It was misshapen, lopsided, and ill-fitting at first. He's pretty sure he
gave one of the bugbears for the frontline a female's breastplate, the
bronze indentation for their chest hammered out in rough fashion.
Except it was only hammered out on one side.
So now the other Deathwatch soldiers called her Unichest. He's going to
have to get better at this. But All things take time. This is not the
first task he has undertaken where he was not qualified. It won't be his
last.
Wyltte continued to work, the crisp wind of Icewall biting at his bare chest
when the winds got under the canopy of the forge. It kept him awake,
driven... And truly, he rather loved it on Icewall. In some ways, it felt
like home.
He had lived in Verminasia a very long time, but he found he descended from
the Northmen. Not the ones who fled to Nordmaar at the Yaenni incursion
though. Besides, he was a Kayen now, and although he dreamt of one day
owning a piece of property on Icewall, or even running his own city as a
vassal for Verminasia, he was content where he was at.
Wyltte's mind drifted to his thoughts from the other day, how without words,
regular magic, not the wild kind or the Master's Umbra, had a hard time
flourishing. His hammer strokes became more erratic as his mind wandered.
He wished he could find away to use this knowledge to his advantage, harness
it in aiding the Master's return. He prayed All the time for the Master to
bless him with heightened senses so he can know what to do. Eyes that could
see the future. Ears that can hear the Master's heart beat within the
lands, nose than could smell.... Smell....
Smell something burning.... Like burnt corn or pig skin over an open flame.
Speaking of flames, why was it so hot All of a sudden.
Wyltte looked down and his eyes opened widely. His chest hair had caught on
fire.
In his musings he didn't realize the hot sparks from the forged metal
splashed against his skin. This lucky spark happened to catch some of the
coal dust that was smeared on his chest, and now his hair started to singe
and curl, the flames spreading quickly up to his face. Wyltte ran around
looking for something to put it out with. The quenching bucket beside him
was too heavy even for him to lift. The flask he drank from only had rum in
it, which he knew would make it worse.
Wyltte runs out of the forge, flaming chest afire as early morning risers
stretching from the rest see the massive man running around wildly. He then
ran full spead towards the stables and jumped into the air at the hitching
posts, landing chest first into the horse trough. A small sizzle as the
fire breathed its last could be heard, and Wyltte emerged, the chest hair
falling off in fine granules of ash while water fell from his beard and
hair.
The fire spread so quickly, leaving his faded tan skin red with light burns,
but not so bad as to melt to the muscle. Wyltte walked over to a nearby
mound of snow and rubbed it on his aching chest, the soothing feeling both
helpful and hurtful.
But those flames. They were upon him before he even realized what was
happening. Consumed him like dry parchment....
Dry parchment... And flames.
He had an idea. Dark Gods and Master save him, he had an idea.
Writer: Ulys
Date Sun Jun 30 22:15:34 2019
Writer: Zisuli
Date Mon Jul 1 01:06:25 2019
Writer: Xanthania
Date Mon Jul 1 08:24:25 2019
Writer: Cieran
Date Tue Jul 2 08:04:43 2019
To All Althainia Cayenna
Subject An Unexpected Encounter
Cieran had awoken in the early twilight hours. With a silent kiss to the
sleeping form beside him he had slipped out of the house shortly thereafter,
only after collecting his usual cup of coffee from the kitchen of course.
As he travelled the roads he broke from his now usual routine and instead of
heading south to Cadia he turned for the province of Scintilla and the Great
Library found there. He intended to do some more research today on the
territories of Tropica. He wanted to know anything and everything about
that continent so as to be completely prepared when the time came to march.
The morning paths were quiet and empty, save for a solitary traveler here
and there. He sipped at his coffee, glancing to the east as he walked,
watching the sky slowly lighten on the horizon until finally the sun crested
and bathed the realm in it's early morning orange light. He walked in
silence for a good bit of time until he came upon a crossroads, he turned
left and was about to continue on his journey until he suddenly stopped
short. Cieran tilted his head to the side and stilled, listening for
something. Sure enough, there it was again, the sound of a pain filled
groan, barely audible from somewhere in the woods just off the road.
Cieran broke from his intended path and moved out into the high grasses and
trees, walking slowly as his eyes roamed the area just in front of him until
he spotted him. The crumpled form of a man lie in a small outcropping a
good twenty yards from the road. As Cieran neared, his eyes moved in long
arcs of the area surrounding him, the grip on his bladed staff tightening
slightly as he became wary of the fact that this would be a good place for
an ambush. Cieran drew closer to the man, realizing from the visible tufts
of gray hair that he was older in years. The figure moved little, groaning
from time to time in a semi-conscious state. As Cieran kneeled beside him,
the reason for the elderly man's predicament became abundantly evident, he
had been beaten.... Badly. His eyes were swollen shut from strikes, a deep
gash ran from his forehead back into his receding hairline, blood running
unchecked down and over his face. Cieran frowned as he continued to survey
the man's wounds whilst retrieving a cloth from his pack, holding it firmly
to the cut to try and staunch some of the bloodflow. As he looked down he
noticed the mans right leg was bent at an odd angle below the knee. With a
suspecting grimace upon his face he gingerly rolled up the man's pant leg
only to reveal what he had expected, both bones had been broken clean
through, done so by a devastating blow, likely stomping on the pour soul
after he was already down. Cieran glanced to the man's battered face,
biting at his lip in thought. He was out still, now was as good a time as
any. After he had braced the man as best he could Cieran took hold of his
leg firmly, his jaw tightening in anticipation of what was to come next.
With a sudden strong jerk, a stomach turning bone on bone pop was heard
shortly before the man shot awake with an ear splitting scream of pain.
Cieran quickly uttered the words to a spell and the man fell back once more
into a deep, magic induced sleep. He worked on the man for a while longer,
healing spells combined with whatever simple remedies he carried with him,
before he was confident the man was ready to be moved. He gently hefted the
limp form up and onto his shoulder, turning back the way he had come for the
city. The library would have to wait for now.
Writer: Feldritch
Date Tue Jul 2 22:14:52 2019
To All Althainia Cayenna
Subject An Unexpected Encounter II
Standing around the command table he glances over the reports of the
recent training drills of the previous day. The flap of the tent opens,
making him glance away from what he was studying to see one of the Colonels
messengers walk his way. The messenger stops offering the Lieutenant a
salute in which he returns. The man hands him a scroll with the seal of the
Colonel on it. I was instructed to personally deliver this to you. He
takes the scroll, breaking the seal looking over the contents. I see,
bandits. Inform the Colonel I will speak with the sentries to be on the
lookout for any trouble. The messenger salutes once more before turning on
his heels and exiting the tent. Shaking his head a few times and running a
hand through his hair If planning for war was not bad enough, now this news.
He takes one last glance at the map of Helsreach before heading off to
speak with the sentries.
Writer: Malichi
Date Wed Jul 3 14:10:18 2019
To All RP Imm Conclave
Subject A Warning to the Clans and Kingdoms of Algoron
Our gods may be different.....our purposes not the same....but heed this warning All of Algoron.....
I am not crazy.....The DOOM is coming....I have seen the message on the bleeding parchment of crimson.
The DOOM will come during The Month of Shadows.
The DOOM will spread darkness and disease.
The skies will open and the ground will go black as night.
The undead shall sow the land with blood and rot.
The DOOM will spread its wings, the ancient darkness will torment this land.
So it is written.....
Malichi Necrose
Writer: Hogun
Date Thu Jul 4 11:22:10 2019
To Verminasia Ashtiel Nimiane All ( Necrucifer Imm RP )
Subject The Red Queen - Seperating the Chaff
"They will die for allowing this trespass and burn with the others. See
to it." Was the command, setting in motion a chain of barked commands
bringing the Deathwatch sections to purpose. Amid the rank and file of the
units, each man readied himself for action in body.. And mind. This was
not the glorious clash of war with foes, this was slaughter, this was
control. These were the thoughts of men and not uncommon amid the ranks,
yet some knew the thoughts of men had no place in the moment. These were
the soldiers and duty, orders and movement sufficed as motivation.
Among the second rank of one section such a soldier stood pondering those
about him with surreptious shifts of his eyes. "... Which one's gonna
buckle?.. Not him... Not that one, he's just cold... Ogre's hungover...
Just leaves the Iolanthians.." , Were the thoughts roaming through the
veteran's mind as his gaze settled at a sideways stare towards the
legionnaire leading the section. ".. He's sweating it.. Call the order.."
He thought behind a hardening gaze as the other section leaders relayed the
order. The seconds seemed to drag as other sections responded to the call
to advance while one idled. Four counts, four steps, that was the time
needed to make a decision. Stepping forward between the front rank he
walked down to stand before the legionnaire locking his wolf's gaze on the
man for a moment, then a slight twist at the hip and rasp of plate over
chainmail were All the warning before his shield came up and around striking
the man's helm and bearing him to the ground. Placing his boot atop the
legionnaire, two powerful downward strikes yielded the satisfying crack of a
skull finishing the deed. Giving his shield a shake to clear the gore the
soldier straightened up in the section leaders position amid the stunned
silence.
".. Owed me dice money too.. Didn't think of that.. Everything's a roll
of dice.." He mused thinking to himself. This was just another control
mission. He'd seen many before under All sorts of names and always
necessary. Necessary, which bore All the weight needed where justification
faltered. Anything can be justified if needed baddly enough. This was
necessary to prevent the kindling of the notion that these people were
anything but Verminasians, first and last. The events of the Black Moon had
created confusion when the faith that bound them was shaken. That faith
would be renewed today in All those not present as word spread. Whatever
lingering doubts they may harbor on Necrucifer, there would be none about to
whom they answered to. The Queen had taken on the mantle of order and all
of this was simply, necessary. ".. Time to move, I'm not facing decimation
for any of these skinsacks.." He thought clearing his throat at last.
"It's ta be a simple thing yeah?.." He boomed out without turning his gaze
from the front, "Which end o' tha spear ya want ta be on... DOUBLE
PACE!!.... ADVANCE!" And stepped forward with the clatter of the unit
following a half second later to close the gap between sections with
levelled spears.
Writer: Vittkis
Date Thu Jul 4 15:34:18 2019
To Althainia All Mercerion Imm RP Religion Raije
Subject Sails down in Tropica
Vittkis flit along the deck and watched the work on the Chimaera take
place. The aged oak planks were being covered in black tar from the ocean
waves to the top of the mast. They were almost complete when the first mate
came running up hastily to him.
"Sir, the Almarina is coming in for a docking as scheduled. Shall we be
prepared for any passengers? "
Vittkis rose up a little higher and looked out to the calm from the
hurricane and saw the ghostly ship fading in and out, almost like a mirage
on a Thalosian day.
"{oKeep a weathered eye, but remind the others that no Althanian is to be
spoken. We're brigands hiding here till we hit our next score. "
The first mate nodded and ran off, repeating the orders in a low whisper as
he went, leaving Vittkis to continue inspecting the ship. Soon they would
be ready to take on his mission.
******************************************************
The clouds rolled in as Vittkis nodded at his navigator.
"{oSet sail, keep it quiet, lights out except for what's needed.
Strike our colors and sails half trim. All eyes on look out for other
ships. We're not here to engage, just scouting. Nodding, the navigator
set forth and they sailed out of the Hurricane and out towards Tropica under
the dark skies with winds filling the sails.
********************************************************
"Sails on the horizon. Around the bend. Port bow. Blotted out the stars.
Can't be more than a cruiser. No colors. Could be bandits or Chaos. "
Vittkis flit up to the bow of the ship and pulled out his spyglass. Sure
enough, far off into the distance, a stars were blotted out as a ship's
sihlouette moved across the horizon.
He bit his lip and stared at the horizon, seeming to track the ship. He
flit back to the wheelhouse and landed on the railing, his hands on the
hilts of his blades.
"{oTake close to the coast, mark the position for later. Set sails to full
trim and get us past it. Keep us hidden in the night. Close to the shore
now. Watch the sand bars. "
Writer: Kaerick
Date Sun Jul 7 09:21:48 2019
Writer: Cieran
Date Tue Jul 9 10:23:47 2019
To Althainia Cayenna All Immortal
Subject Road to War: Focus on the Task
A grunt echoed out in the forest clearing, the Captain falling to a knee
and rubbing at his jaw. Cieran circled slowly, spinning his staff idly in
his hands as he waited for the man to retake his feet. The Captain shook
off the haze from the strike, standing slowly. "Quicker Captain, you have
to be quicker. Your footwork needs improvement. Anticipate the next
strike, have the counter ready even before it comes. " The Captain nodded,
the grit in his eyes returning as he set his jaw and advanced upon Cieran,
attacking with a series of quick blows from his own staff. "There are
mutterings sir... Word carries from the Kingdom... The Keep is no longer
welcome in the city?" . Cieran frowned and wheeled on the Captain, pushing
him back before feinting high only to drop low and sweep the Captain's legs
from beneath him. Cieran stood with an admonishing shake of his head, "You
and the troops need not heed that, it is none of your concern for the
moment. You have your tasks, see to them. Focus on what is in front of
you. Understood? " The Captain nodded resolutely, dusting himself off a
bit as he stood and readied himself again. "Yes sir, apologies. " Cieran
shook his head, starting to circle once more, his stance low and ready, "
None are needed Captain, we All need reminding from time to time. You have
been doing very well here, the men are much improved and they have you to
thank for that. " The Captain smiled, and stepped forward, suddenly
striking out with the butt of his staff for Cieran's chest, "I'll best you
sooner or later sir" the man said half joking. " Sooner rather than later
it had better be, lest I fail you. My job is not to be better than you, it
is to train you to be better than me. "Cieran parried the blow aside at the
last moment, it striking a glancing blow to his shoulder before he spun and
delivered a strike across the Captain's back with a light smirk, "Though not
yet Captain, not yet. " The Captain shuffled his feet forward quickly from
the blow, though he kept them beneath him and whirled, raising his staff
over his head horizontally to block the blow he knew was coming, pushing it
away hard before pumping his arms again and delivering a sharp blow to
Cieran's brow. The Colonel fell back from the strike, surprise on his face
as blood flowed freely down over it from a cut above his left eye. Cieran
touched his head, his hand coming away sticky and covered in a bright
crimson. He chuckled and smiled, nodding his approval "Although maybe I
shall have to stop going easy on you. " Cieran gave a slight wink before he
attacked again, perhaps with a smidge more tenacity.
Writer: Valdaris
Date Wed Jul 10 10:01:18 2019
Writer: Sabien
Date Wed Jul 10 17:15:42 2019
Writer: Malichi
Date Wed Jul 10 22:42:48 2019
To All RP Conclave
Subject In search of answers....The DOOM is Coming!!!!
The DOOM is Coming!!!! The DOOM is Coming!!!!!.....
Malichi's warnings fall on deaf ears, the people of Algoron assume he's just
another crazy old elf who has lost his way. They assume his mind has rotten
away like the flesh of his undead minions.
I'm not crazy!!!! NOT CRAZY!!!!..... *cackle.... *laugh*....
Maybe they are right....
Malichi, determined what he saw in that extra-dimensional cave in the Realm
of Shadows was real, seeks out the temples, towers, and libraries of Algoron
for any inforamtion, any text, manuscript or parchment that mentions The
DOOM or the assorted warnings from that bloody parchment he read.
He starts in the Black Tower of the Conclave. Reading tome after tome....
Yet nothing of The DOOM, nothing of this dark presence which seems to
driving Malichi mad, penetrating his every thought....
SILENCE!!!!!!!........
*SLAM!!! * Malichi flips the table he was reading at frustrated at his lack
of progress. Scratching the back of his head... Harder and harder now as
the frustration gnaws at him.
Malichi enters the libraries and temples of Algoron and has the same
result.... Nothing... Furthering his frustration, stoking his madnes. He
had All but given up.....
Someone whispers.... Malichi......
Wha...?.... Who?....
Someone whispers..... Malichi.....
Malichi looks All around, yet sees no one, yet hears this voice....
Malichi......... Malichi......... Malichi....
Over and over again, this soft whisper eats at the back of his skull,
refusing to go away. For days he walks around like this, unable to sleep,
barely able to eat, the voice continues to call out to him.... Malichi.....
You must prepare..... For I am coming...... You cannot resist...... I
control you..... I control all...... I will first lay waste to the City of
Verminasia..... Darkness will cover the streets..... Lightning will rain
down...... My undead army will spread rot and disease across the continent
of Arkania..... Then like a slow creep I will spread my torment to
Althainia.... Your gods are nothing..... You are nothing.... You cannot
stop me..... I will show you what the meaning of pure evil is.
No I can't!! I will... No I can't!!!! I won't!!
You will........
Writer: Valdaris
Date Fri Jul 12 11:16:39 2019
Writer: Geirhart
Date Fri Jul 12 23:17:54 2019
Writer: Aliera
Date Sat Jul 13 13:27:09 2019
Writer: Ylethsalisar
Date Sat Jul 13 22:21:58 2019
To All Shalonesti_Clan ( Zandreya Imm RP )
Subject Revelations 1/2
The journey had been long and arduous.
Beginning at the shallow waters of the forgotten lake in the low hills, the
bakali had traveled through the now familiar hill-lands and forests near his
sanctum. While cooler than his native home at the edge of Tropica's
rainforest, the denizens of this land considered the area warmer than other,
more temperate locales.
Rolling fields of wild grain and foreign fibrous plants swayed in the lazy
breeze beneath the bright summer sky. Some herdsmen maintained flocks on
the rugged hills while others plied the streams and rivers with net and
pole. Neither the people nor their herds were of interest to the bakali.
He had sated himself well in preparation for the journey. If any made note
of the green-scaled figure moving across the terrain, the distance was too
great for him to discern.
Cover was almost non-existent in the hill-lands, but the bakali still tried
to mask his passage. Wary of being seen from afar, he avoided the easier
trails across the hilltops and followed paths through gullies. Despite a
sinuous grace and a balanced step at odds with his large frame, he still
left tracks in All but the densest of grass and moss. Picking his way
across rocky fields and barren slopes helped to minimize those tracks and
obscure his trail somewhat. He could not match the woodcraft of a ranger,
but the ways of the hunt- the tracking of prey and warbands- were known to
him. As he passed through the forests, weaving through the dense foliage,
he strove to displace as few branches as possible. Perhaps it would be
enough to confuse a lesser tracker, he thought.
The third day of travel brought the bakali to the cusp of a desert. Of the
myriad biomes that he had visited, the desert was the most mysterious and
inhospitable. True, his sojourn to the frozen north had tested his will and
assaulted his constitution. His kind were ill-suited for such frigid
conditions. Yet through study of local cultures, he had learned how to
adapt- dressing in layers of heavy furs and cloth, utilizing the daylight,
carrying ample provisions and knowing the warning signs of inclement
weather. Water and sustenance was in reasonable supply even in the harsher
locales. However, the desert was a beast of an entirely different nature.
The heat of the desert, however pleasing, likely exceeded that of the
rainforest where the sweltering closeness of the jungle air was a welcome
balm to his scaled flesh. After a day, he found his scales drying and
losing their rich luster. Exposure did not weaken him as swiftly as it did
others, but soon the water gained from the flesh of prey was insufficient to
sustain him and the precipitous drop in temperature each night on the sands
was a shock and a danger. Sustenance could be found in the desert, but it
often required hunting in the hours of twilight and predawn. True sources
of water were guarded with a fierceness rivaling that of any predator in the
savannas and jungle waterways.
As the bakali began his journey across the sands, he endeavored to puzzle
out the twisted trail of logic that had given the desert the appellation of
'sand sea'. The scathing winds that shaped sinuous patterns across the
dunes also served to obscure almost every trace of his trail for which he
was grateful. His progress was briefly slowed by the necessity of hunting
at an oasis. With his hunger sated and his thirst slaked by his successful
hunt, the remainder of his time in the desert passed without incident and
the path before him transitioned into arid steppes bordered by a lesser
mountain range.
Beyond those mountains, now a fortnight into his journey, he arrived at the
ancient forest of legend. The tales proved true. The trees there were
unlike any he had elsewhere encountered. The shape of the leaves, the
texture of the bark, the capacity for elegance despite towering heights
differentiated those trees from All others.
Writer: Ylethsalisar
Date Sat Jul 13 22:26:30 2019
To All Shalonesti_Clan ( Zandreya Imm RP )
Subject Revelations 2/2
The bakali's long, forked tongue flicked repeatedly as he learned the
unique scents found beneath the sweeping boughs- leafmould, animal spoor,
some sort of berry. Variegated green scales blending in with the deeper
hues of the legendary forest, he moved into the shadows beneath the deep
canopy. In this place, he would find what he sought, he hoped.
Hours slipped by uncounted as he moved deeper into the forest, deeper into
that shroud of ancient life where the air felt charged with something he
could not define. Eldritch power? A latent sentience? The weight of ages
passed? He could not tell. A different mystery presented itself the deeper
the bakali delved into the forest. The path behind him began to vanish.
Gradually at first, just enough to cause doubt of his perceptions. The
trees seemed to close in around him, trunks pressing in from All sides,
improbably shifting into a solid wall. The forest was herding him in a path
of its own choosing, blocking All other routes.
Feeling entrapped did not sit well with the bakali. The weight of the
unknown power, the awareness in the air began to press in on him. Though he
was a highly proficient climber and was certain he could scale the enclosing
trees to escape, he continued on the path prepared for him. This was the
purpose of his journey. The solution to his crux was in this place, he
fervently hoped. He would not be dissuaded now.
Further, deeper, he stalked into the forest, broad shoulders barely able to
squeeze between the increasingly narrow path the trees left for him.
Abruptly, he found himself stepping out of the cloistering foliage and into
a pristine glade. Like sentinels, the trees lined the grassy clearing in
the forest. At the glades' center was a clear, still spring nestled between
the gnarled roots of a tree of tremendous, improbable grandeur. Even with
his familiarity with the massive size of mangroves and kapok in the jungle,
the bakali was astonished by the scope of this ancient titan of the forest.
For a long time, he stood- immobile, letting his senses be imprinted with
this glade and this segment of his existence within it. With patience and
pure focus, he drew in the scents, the sight of the glade, the feel of the
air. Once satisfied, he strode forward with firm, flowing steps until he
stood at the edge of the spring. Something drew him inexorably to its
waters. The bakali allowed the curtain of scaled flesh of his hood to
unfurl from its tight tamp against his neck. The vivid eye patterns in the
scales became fully visible as his hood flared outward almost as wide his
shoulders- like the eyes of an enormous serpent hovering just behind him.
Tilting his head down, the bakali gazed deep into the forest pool.
Initially, he could only see his reflection, shown with unearthly clarity on
the surface of the clear water. Time passed as he studied himself, lambent
jade eyes meeting the reflected jade gaze that seemed to glow in the water.
With the swiftness of a falling curtain, the mirrored reflection vanished,
allowing a vantage into the dark depths of the pool. For hours, the bakali
stood at the edge of the spring, gazing into the pool, seeking, hoping.
How long he remained in the glade, he could not guess. Time had little
meaning in this place of trees older than human memory. Eventually, his
gaze into the spring's waters showed only a reflection of the forest behind
him and the quality of the air changed. That unspoken aspect was still
present, but his awareness of it was no longer the same. The bakali
departed in silence as he had arrived, leaving a few bright green scales by
the spring behind.
Writer: Cieran
Date Sun Jul 14 19:53:19 2019
Writer: Aliera
Date Sun Jul 14 20:56:45 2019
Writer: Aliera
Date Sun Jul 14 20:59:57 2019
Writer: Drinzoud
Date Mon Jul 15 15:34:08 2019
Writer: Cieran
Date Mon Jul 15 17:21:44 2019
Writer: Cieran
Date Mon Jul 15 17:26:14 2019
Writer: Aliera
Date Mon Jul 15 21:09:23 2019
Writer: Malichi
Date Mon Jul 15 22:47:53 2019
To All Imm RP Conclave
Subject The DOOM spreads....The Gods flick it away
The demon will not be pleased... *shake*.... The demon will not be
pleased... *shake*.... The demon will not be pleased..... The DOOM
came...... The DOOM reached out and surrounded Verminasia will undead and
black mist. It tightened its grip releasing a deadily disease, toying with
the city.... He was having fun. Malichi did his duty, dropped to his knees
at the feet of the demon. The DOOM spread... Darkening the continent of
Arkane, covering it in rotting flesh and disease. Still .... The demon was
not finished. The DOOM spread across the sea to New Thalos and Althainia,
toying with the citizens. Disease and darkness did spread. The Demon was
pleased.
You have done well my child. The demon is pleased. Continue your work. As
the rot and disease spread I grow stronger and stronger. SOON I will be set
free!!!
The DOOM tightened it's grip, toying with the people..... Until the Gods of
Algoron flicked him away like an annoying insect.... For demons are no
match for gods.
Master I am sorry!!! I failed you!!
You fail yourself Malichi. You are but a pawn, an insect. You WILL still
bring me into the world... We will find a way.
Yes master... Yes Necrose we will be one.... We will rule the lands!
*cackle*... As long as YOU belive that my slave...... All is welll.....
The DOOM was nothing but a means to an end. A slight of hand as you will.
The Demon Necrose still resides inside Malichi, locked away in his soul
unable to escape. The Demon toys will him, plays with him, uses him....
Malichi is under his spell unable to resist.
Will Necrose ever escape?? Only time will telll........
Writer: Daljin
Date Tue Jul 16 17:11:23 2019
Writer: Geirhart
Date Tue Jul 16 20:35:48 2019
Writer: Feldritch
Date Wed Jul 17 22:47:20 2019
To All mercerion cieran
Subject Road to War: New Orders
Dusk was just approaching as he finished reading the training reports for
the day. Stretching in his chair, he yawned and began to file things away
for the night. At that moment his keen ears picked up the sound of a fast
approaching horse heading straight for the camp. As he exited the
commander's tent he could see one of the colonels messengers dismounting a
very tired looking horse. The man approaches him, "Lieutenant Feldritch I
have a message for your eyes only from the Colonel." He reaches out to take
the scroll from the messenger, noticing the seal of the Colonel. He nods at
the man "Thank you, take your horse to the stables for water and care. He
glances at one of the nearby privates. {"GFind some warm food for this man at
once"
As he makes his way back into the tent he breaks the seal of the missive,
unrolling to read the contents. His eyes read once, and then twice the
words on the parchment before rolling it up once more. With silent
footsteps he gathers his weapons and armor before exiting the tent and
making for the stables. The stable master notices the quick stride in which
he approaches and vanishes into the stables. A moment later, the
Lieutenants horse is saddled and ready to depart. He gives a slight nod to
the man as he mounts the horse, running a hand along the neck of the great
stallion.
He turns the horse towards the gate of the camp coxing him into a quick trot
and then gallop after passing the gates. His thoughts go back to the
missive, time is of the essence.
Writer: Feldritch
Date Wed Jul 17 23:08:54 2019
To All Mercerion Cieran
Subject Road to War: New Orders II
The ride north was swift, only stopping for food and water for his horse.
When he finally reached the camp the Colonel spoke of his eyes fell on
wounded men, he had missed the battle. He dismounts his horse glancing
around hoping to spot the Colonel. Not seeing him in the immediate vicinity
he glances to a nearby group of soldiers. "I need to speak with the
Colonel, where can I find him?"
Writer: XiaXia
Date Thu Jul 18 09:55:10 2019
Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Thu Jul 18 11:22:14 2019
Writer: Malichi
Date Thu Jul 18 22:43:43 2019
To All Imm RP Conclave
Subject The Demon Necrose claws to the surface of Malichi's soul....
I will be set free my slave!!! We were so close. I will rule this land
until the end of time!
Y.... Yes.... What.... Whatever you... Sss... Sssay....
The DOOM was nothing more than a ploy. A trick. A slight of hand. The
Demon Necrose used Malichi. The DOOM has brought the Demon Necrose closer
to escaping Malichi's fleshy soul. He seeks only to rid himself of this
body, to roam the world of Algoron unimpeded.
You don't know about the Demon Necrose?.....
Generations ago.... Hundreds of years ago.... Malichi was Malichi
Shalonost of the forest kingdom of Shalonesti. As a boy Malichi played near
a dark cave. One day this cave called out to him....
Come my boy.... Let's play.....
The boy entered the cave and the darkness surrounded him. The cave was just
a ploy..... A trick. The Demon Necrose is an inter-dimensional creature.
He lodged himself between dimensions, stuck trying to get to Algoron. He
used this dark cave as a way to reach out, tempting the young Malichi. As
the dark demon attached himself to Malichi the Gods of Algoron stepped in
and stopped the creature from fully taking control. The Demon Necrose
remained trapped, stuck inside of Malichi's body... Inside his soul.
Over the years the creature spread his influence throughout Malichi. The
Shalonesti Elf became dark and twisted by the creature lodged in his soul.
Malichi studied in the Black Tower, becoming a student of Necromancy. As
Malichi's skills increased the demon discoverd a way out of his fleshy
entrapment. Through the Shadow Realm the creature will claw and scratch his
way from Malichi's soul. Of course Malichi's skills were not quite enough.
The Demon Necrose failed to leave Malichi's body and both were flung deep
into a vortex, stuck between this dimension and the next... Lodged in the
same hell in which the creature started this journey.
Hundreds of years pass by. The death of Necrucifer set forth a wave of
blinding power across the realm as it is shaken to its core by the death the
god. This energy flung Malichi out of his dimensional vortex and back in
the world of Algoron..... The Demon Necrose still intact. This time....
Was different. The creature... Felt stronger.... More powerful....
More.... In control. He had another plan.
Through trickery he convinced Malichi to set forth the conditions of The
DOOM. This...... This would be enough fear and torture.... Death and
disease... Rot and darkness.... To lift the demon out of Malichi.... For
once and for all. He did not account for the strength of the Gods of
Algoron. As the Demon Necrose{ was nearing ascension, nearly free of the
fleshy pirson.... The God's spoke. The Gods of Algoron pushed the creature
away and back into Malichi's soul. Yet another failure. As he sat trapped
he realized someting..... He can speak now through Malichi! The ascension
was not a total failure.
Master we have them All fooled!!! You will rise and you will ruin this
land! It will be a glorious triumph for darkness!!!
Yes my child... My slave... My prison of flesh... Soon.... I will cast
you off and ascend. Rising from your ashes I will break this land and all
will kneel!!!
But.... Bu..... What?..... *eyes close.... And reopen*...... Yes
master.... What you wish will come to pass.....
Yes it will!!.... MUAHAHAHAHAAHAMUAHAHAHAHAHAHMUAHAHAAHA!!!
Writer: Telthian
Date Fri Jul 19 12:59:31 2019
To All Verminasia Shadow Eclipse ( Religion Scorn Necrucifer )
Subject Lost City - Sow the Wind III
-*-
Though a vast battle raged outside the sanctum of Shimmermist, within the
foundry itself few words were exchanged. They worked as quickly as they
could manage, the importance of their task balanced against the lives of
their friends and loved ones fighting and dying in the snow and bitter cold
outside.
One by one, the ferrite-infused blades were tempered in the umbric forge,
each drawing from them a measurable quantity of vitality. If lives could be
measured in such a way then the men of the Deathwatch assisting the
Kingpriest were lakes, and by comparison he was an ocean.
But All things in this world are finite and given the long arc of time even
vast seas go dry and turn to deserts.
The Kingpriest was not a gambler in the traditional sense. His fortunes
were vast, but carefully tended and replenished when drawn upon to fuel the
engines of his ambition. Wealth was hoarded only to be spent in the
reshaping of the world by building the armies of Verminasia, Darkonin, and
Abaddon, to elevate loyal allies such as Madaur, Kayen, and Atennim, and to
eliminate obstacles that stood in the way of forward progress.
By his estimation, it was the unswerving devotion to the penny-ante, the
incremental half-measures, and a persistent fear of failure that rotted away
and hollowed out the soul of Algoron. To him, a swift death would be far
better than exsanguination by bureaucracy.
At first the demons laughed diabolically at his aspirations and looked
forward greedily to the sweet juices that drip from crushed hopes. But inch
by inch ground was gained, and a devoted, focused, efficient council
orchestrated and executed the shared vision of a new world order. One
united under the unyielding grip of Darkness.
Inexplicably, decades of planning and progress turned to nothing underneath
a black sky when Drakkara betrayed the Master of All Darkness.
All of the gains of the Long War were sacrificed upon altars of personal
ambition one by one by one and in that single moment the world and his
priorities changed forever.
-*-
Writer: Telthian
Date Fri Jul 19 13:01:47 2019
To All Verminasia Shadow Eclipse ( Religion Scorn Necrucifer )
Subject Lost City - Sow the Wind IV
-*-
It was a line of questioning to which there had been no cogent answer.
Why, of All places, did Necrucifer destroy Dae'tok? If it was within his
power to condemn a vast and powerful kingdom to annihilation why not wipe a
bastion of light from the map?
Why did the Gods of Goodness and Balance lift not even a single finger for
the Yinn? It was incongruous with their understanding of the world and when
poised with these questions the Priesthood could do naught but open and
close their mouths, shrug their shoulders, and offer a platitude about the
unknowable nature of the divine.
Never before had such an expedition sought to reach the heart of Dae'tok.
Over the years some crossed that frozen mire in pursuit of promises of great
wealth and power. After all, the riches of the greatest Empire ever known
to Algoron lie buried and waiting for those brave enough to wield a shovel.
It has been said that what you do not know cannot hurt you. This would have
come as a revelation to many, were it not for the fact that very things the
would-be treasure hunters did not know had long ago torn them into shreds
and giblets and feasted upon the marrow of their bones. And the few who
were not allowed to die became sublimated and slowly twisted into the Ghul.
Verminasia, Storm Keep, the Eclipse and Chromatic progressed toward their
objective with a steady, careful, measured pace. And when the last blade
was imbued with the umbra, King and Kingsguard prepared to join the fray
outside.
-*-
The Ashen Path ran both long and narrow leading them to this cursed place
with a single opportunity to either succeed or fall into ruin forever.
Before them lie the answers to these questions and within those answers, the
means to return Necrucifer.
Writer: Geirhart
Date Fri Jul 19 13:49:56 2019
Writer: Drinzoud
Date Fri Jul 19 15:27:00 2019
Writer: Maccus
Date Sat Jul 20 01:37:43 2019
Writer: Carleigh
Date Sat Jul 20 11:41:20 2019
Writer: Maccus
Date Sun Jul 21 00:17:47 2019
Writer: Uruvion
Date Sun Jul 21 23:41:12 2019
Writer: Cieran
Date Mon Jul 22 08:09:28 2019
Writer: Cieran
Date Mon Jul 22 08:46:33 2019
Writer: Cieran
Date Tue Jul 23 08:16:42 2019
Writer: Safin
Date Tue Jul 23 22:10:22 2019
Writer: Aliera
Date Wed Jul 24 20:56:56 2019
Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Fri Jul 26 09:54:46 2019
Writer: Kaerick
Date Fri Jul 26 20:18:25 2019
Writer: Caireall
Date Sat Jul 27 00:01:45 2019
Writer: Mahina
Date Sat Jul 27 08:52:38 2019
To All Arkane Immortal storyline religion Sebatis Roleplay
Subject Goodbye Again
Mina returned from her journey and entered the gates of Althania. Much
had changed but stayed the same. New rulers again? What had happened to
Clarissia and Tiem? The question remained unanswered. She only recognized
a few people but was happy to be home.
A few weeks pass and she was remembering All the good times she had with her
Althainian family. A grumpy dwarf who hated kids but sofened up to her
taking care of her like a father, a General who she was very close to, their
were so many who took care of her that she didn't miss her mother but always
missed her father.
In time, She returned to the kingdom. Only one of two people she could not
forgive and hated to be near. Mina knew it was time to leave again. She
sighed as she packed once again and took a ship to Arkane.
Dearest Sebatis, Thank you for the strength to make good decisions. May you
continue to use me as a vessel for Your word. Blessed Be
Writer: Katya
Date Mon Jul 29 10:51:13 2019
Writer: Geirhart
Date Wed Jul 31 07:48:29 2019
Writer: Thistlewick
Date Wed Jul 31 16:14:54 2019
To Carrionmaw All Clans
Subject Heroic Vision Quest! Onward Noble Kender
Our story begins with a quest given to our hero by a rather large red
dragon. The ancient wyrm had given the intrepid kender a list of regents
and tasks to complete in order to obtain his heroic vision. Much thought
and threat to life and limb was surpassed towards this legendary goal.
Years from now, the histories would note this as the time when Thistlewick
Longfellow became a hero!
'Boring! This needs to be way better for my heroic legend. ' exclaimed the
kender.
Crumpled up pieces of paper littered the wooden deck around him as he sat
crosslegged on a shipping crate. All failed introductions for his latest
heroic journey. The deck pitched a bit as the Nomad lurched in the sea but
the kender didn't notice. Thistlewick took out the list Carrionmaw had
given him from the draconic prophecy he had seen.
Item one, a live eel. Oddly enough easy to find in the swamps west of
Althainia. He had procured a glass bowl for it and even gave it a name.
However the eel was not a very engaging travelling companion. It just swam
around in a circle, content with the bits of jerky he gave it as a snack.
It also was not a pretty animal and sometimes Thistlewick thought the eel
hissed at him.
'gJeffers, what do you think Draco will tell me when I get to him? '
As always the eel failed to reply but the kender continued his conversation
with himself.
Item two had been incense. Also easy to obtain in New Thalos. For some
reason they loved burning All types of things. He had four sticks in his
backpack safely stowed so as not to get wet. He couldn't risk anything
happening to his magical vision regents.
The third item was a canvas sheet. Not very common but he had an idea on
where to get one. This was going to be used as some sort of makeshift tent.
Not something easily packed or carried. It needed to be obtained as close
to his chosen spot as possible.
'Icewall port! ' yelled the Captain.
At this, Thistlewick gathered up All his belongings, stowed them in their
proper places, and settled Jeffers in the crook of his arm. Glancing at the
supplies in the hold he spotted something. In a few moments he was making
his way down the plank, using the other passangers as a wall to hide him
from view. The hero business didn't pay well so he had hitched a ride
without a ticket. He made a mental note to one day repay the Captain.
'By Raije's horns, the hold is a mess. Nothing is tied together! Erlin,
what in the blazes did you do! '
Captain, I swear I tied it All under some canvas before we left port, sir
And perhaps repay them for a canvas tarp.
Writer: Malichi
Date Wed Jul 31 22:28:57 2019
To All Conclave RP Imm
Subject The Ascension of the Demon Necrose: Part 1
Necrose is a demon not of this dimension, not of these gods, he exists
within the soul of the elf Malichi. He exists to torment and control. He
exists to free himself. He has failed brilliantly.....
Where I have failed you will make me stronger little elf. Since I cannot
come into this world we will make us as one soul. We will commit to the
ritual and bind our bodies and minds. We will become more powerful than
ever my child!.
Yesssss.... The darkness will rise and we will be as one. The rot will
infest our souls and we will grow in power!!! The Mistress will be pleased
yessss.....
..... I know of a place...
And thus it begins.... The Ascension of the Demon Necrose. He has tried to
escape his dimensional prison three times... As has failed each time. He
lured the young Malichi Shinast into a cave in Moria, consuming his
lifeforce in an attempt to free himself.... He failed. He then convinced
Malichi to experiment with the demi-plane of shadow in order to free
him..... It again failed. The DOOM was the latest attempt.... And by the
gods it failed as well. So who is in control here? Is Necrose pulling the
strings? Or is it something else?.....
Hidden in the battlefield is an entrance to a Garden of Death. An eerie
place filled with the scent of death and rotten flesh. As the mad elf digs,
his nails bleeding and breaking, he makes a discovery that will ensure his
powerful torment of the world. Deep into the mess of bone and flesh he
arrives in a cave..... Yes a cave..... Fitting I think for such a ritual.
Beings of death and magical forces permeate this place. The stench of rot
and flesh feel like home. The magi who practice their dark arts here
welcome Malichi and agree to assist him.... As they serve the same
mistress.
As such they begin a chant in preparation for the event.....
"When the world opened to the Demon was the day the era of torment began. A
curse was cast upon us. We were once mighty, fearless, and unquestioning.
Now we exist to ponder and wonder if what we do with ourselves is impure.
Sick. WRONG. I wish to see things return to its former glory. I have a
way to do it."
And so it wil be done. In three days on the old calendar the Ascension of
Necrose will commence and the elf and the demon shall be made one!!!!
As is her tenet...... Seek Power where it can be found, and claim it for
yourself. Be in a constant state of improvement, and you shall please
her....
.................
..........
......
MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!
Writer: Spinhx
Date Thu Aug 1 06:28:20 2019
To All (Imm) (Rp) (Drakkara)
Subject A voyage.
Ah what a glorious time it was to be returning to Algoron, Spinhx thought
to himself while disembarking the Golden Koi at the Althainian port.
Familiarity started to set in as he could hear in the distance Daholgar, the
one eyed shouting, trying to sell his wares to those passing by heading to
the Desert city.
Spinhx had just returned from Shokono, where he had spent the past couple of
months taking a spiritual sebbatical and his intentions were to now journey
to Arkane the magical city to pledge his service to his mistress.
Upon boarding the Silver Bass one of the cabin boys walked over to Spinhx
and handed him a ticket as well as a key to his cabin room bellow deck.
"Anythink else to take bellow Sir? " asked the cabin Boy. Spinhx shook his
head and followed his porter bellow deck.
His hand glided over the wooden walls of the Silver Bass as he descended.
How old was this boat he wondered? Where and what or even better whom had
this boat hosted over the years of it being in service? Spinhx wondered to
himself.
Before he knew it his porter had unlocked his cabin door with his set of
keys and was waiting outside with the door open. Spinhx nodded and entered
his cabin, pulling the door closed quickly behind him. The poor porter boy
stood there in awe, his bottom jaw almost hitting the ground. "Ugly inbred
bastard of a cow. " thought the porter to himself, his day wasn't turning
out to be the greatest as this was the second person who'd stiff'd him on a
tip!
Spinhx knelt be his bedside and said his daily prayer before retiring for
the night, the trip to Arkane was a long one and his journey had only just
begun, he knew he had to be rested upon arrival because his path ahead was a
long one!
Writer: Cieran
Date Thu Aug 1 18:13:45 2019
Writer: Cieran
Date Thu Aug 1 18:17:19 2019
Writer: Ezrianne
Date Fri Aug 2 20:26:35 2019
Writer: Valdaris
Date Sat Aug 3 11:11:48 2019
Writer: Valdaris
Date Sat Aug 3 11:13:41 2019
Writer: Feldritch
Date Sat Aug 3 20:20:38 2019
Writer: Valdaris
Date Sat Aug 3 22:52:44 2019
Writer: Joat
Date Sun Aug 4 16:55:39 2019
To All Verminasia Isadore Rhoslyn
Subject The Return of Isadore & Joat (Part 4)
The dark hooded figure stood in the small cave-like room where Isadore &
Joat sat.
"With the master gone, one of you must return to assist in restoring order.
Darkness must continue on." , He stated.
'Sounds like that's your job, Voice. ', Joat said, peering over his cane at
Isadore.
The dark figure continued, "I will, however, warn you, that whichever one of
you returns to the realm of the living, you will be completely changed.
Your youth and energy restored. But don't celebrate too long, it will not
last. You will be tasked with restoring memory of the Master.
Isadore sat silently, nodding at the dark figure, his gaze never wandering.
"I'll leave it up to you which one will return to the realm. Ensure that
your decision is the right one." , Said the dark robed figure.
'We bae ready. ', Isadore suddenly declared, standing up. Joat stayed
seated on the stone bench momentarily.
'We are? We haven't even discussed it yet. ', Joat attempted to protest
before using his cane to stand to his feet.
Behind both men, the dark hooded figure opened up a portal of some sort.
'I guess you have work to do, old friend. ', Joat quipped, outstretching
his hand in order to wish Isadore good luck.
"Aye. Indeed ah do." , Replied Isadore, grabbing his hand and shoving Joat
forcefully through the portal just as it closed.
The dark robed figure nodded at Isadore, whom flashed a toothy grin, holding
on to Joat's cane with pride, and sat back down on the stone bench.
The whereabouts of the former General of the Dark Army are currently
unknown.
(Written together with Isadore Schwartz)
Writer: Joat
Date Sun Aug 4 20:30:21 2019
Writer: Ezrianne
Date Sun Aug 4 22:46:52 2019
Writer: Vincent
Date Tue Aug 6 16:28:32 2019
To All Shadow Verminasia Nehtur Geirhart ( Necrucifer Cayenna Ampersand RP )
Subject The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Homecoming pt. 1
Oft naught but the relentless red sun shone through the hazy skies of
Pazunia, the plain of a thousand portals and the "first" of the Abyss'
infinitely many layers. Its surface was a barren wasteland pocked by iron
fortresses and marred by dark pits which served as points of entry to lower
levels of the Infernal Planes, the deepest of which was known as the Blood
Rift, a bottomless chasm which connected the realm by myriad portals and
gateways. Through it ran the river Styx, a current of blood whose course
was ever changing, but likewise served to bridge together these upper-most,
fiendish places of oppressive horror.
Countless mane petitioners, once mortal souls of chaotic evil nature in life
and the lowest order of demons, roamed the scorched expanse where they were
hunted for sustenance or tortured for pleasure by those higher on the food
chain. Roving bands of bipedal, weapon wielding molydei, red skinned and
possessed of both a lupine and serpentine head, stalked lone stragglers and
unwitting visitors of the plane. Possessed of arms and legs as well as
wings, large, vulture-like vrocks flew over head, maintaining dominance of
the layer's air space in service to their obyrithian demon lord.
And so it did not go without notice when the archfiend Xaran'xaxes, yet
bound in Vincent de Vere's mortal flesh, appeared in that drab, ochre sky
wreathed in luminous energy of violet hues. Like a falling star he
plummeted from above, black smoke trailing in his wake. His descent was
slowed by the attempts of those vrock desperate enough to pluck their prey
from mid air, two of them killed outright by the initial impact and several
more crippled by the remaining force.
The juggling of grasping talons, pried open and burned by his searing aura,
saw the vessel to the ground with fractured bones and tattered apparel, but
otherwise whole. The sack of bottled air once roped to de Vere's arm
arrived moments later, the tether long compromised, crashing down some yards
away. Miraculously it had not yet been stolen by another. Dubiously,
perhaps, its contents remained intact.
Xaran'xaxes and pain had been close acquaintances for eons and yet the
latter always remained interesting company, taking on myriad shapes and
forms, distributed by many and received by most all. Though no stranger to
its aspects, the agony he felt now was alien and unlike anything he had
experienced thus. Even after several millennia, it would seem that pain
still had new and exotic surprises in store. This particular brand resulted
from, in the briefest words, the human vessel being torn asunder by the
Abyssal, native spirit within.
Like attempting to force a lake into a fishbowl or a cow into a frog, the
mortal body was not made to contain such vast stores of arcana. On a very
fundamental level, it was much the same as an arthropod molting its shell to
accommodate a greater form. This metamorphosis, however, was untimely and
unwelcome and so, with every expenditure of his will, the archfiend strained
to halt its progress. He yet needed this worldly binding of human flesh and
bone.
Writer: Vincent
Date Tue Aug 6 16:30:10 2019
To All Shadow Verminasia Nehtur Geirhart ( Necrucifer Cayenna Ampersand RP )
Subject The Lance, The Lash, & The Eye: Homecoming pt. 2
Finding one's way to the Infernal Realms had never been difficult. Those
mortals with dark hearts and blackened souls were ferried there after death.
Several small portals in, though not out, were found sequestered about
Algoron. Even several of Hell's ordered layers could be easily accessed
from the prime material plane.
It was always the escape therefrom which presented a problem and for good
measure, lest the world be overcome by the quarrels of the divine. Absent
the gods' expressed permission or an ambitious summoning ritual, even the
most lesser of demons and devils found their way to the material plane
barred. Though "back doors" did exist, for the demon lord Xaran'xaxes,
remaining within de Vere's Algoron-born body was the most probable means of
expedient return.
Over two hundred years had passed since the archfiend sabotaged the
Fatale-gifted rite permitting demons to inhabit Algoron's dead and dying.
"Vampires" they were mislabeled, for better or for worse, for though they
did sup on living blood and burned under the sun's light, they were anything
but. The disease which once ran rampant across the realm had All but been
extinguished, with only a few "true" vampires still walking its face.
Those demonkin of the Dread Lord were not likely to forget Xaran'xaxes's
trespass over such a relatively short period of time. Forgiveness was not
in their nature, nor was it in their capacity to learn. They had presumably
increased their guard over performance of the ritual and, while certainly
capable of overpowering them, the archfiend had neither the time to do so
nor the desire to antagonize the Aspect of Murder given the current state of
affairs. Pressing matters remained within the world of Algoron.
Blaring from a form too frail to contain it, the eruption of arcane energy
was nigh matched in intensity by horrid, bestial roars of suffering. The
beacons alerted more than one troupe of demonic scavengers, their
simultaneous descent fortuitously staggered by distance and the many mutual
threats Pazunia presented. Droves of molydei, armed with their nets and
axes, comprised the majority of the flesh bound fiend's immediate
antagonists.
Jets of dark energy surged from de Vere's hands, disintegrating the first
waves at their approach. Though capture was the least of his present
concerns, some small measure of time was bought by venting the overwhelming
amount of arcana flooding back to him. How long this body would survive it,
doubled over on its knees and elbows from its inhabitant's anguish, was
anyone's guess. As the moments passed, Xaran'xaxes surmised it would not be
much longer.
Soon after, from above or behind the raging fiend could not tell, a
projectile struck the rear of de Vere's neck and coiled around his throat.
Sharp barbs dug into the flesh, securing the object's hold. To his relief,
the flood of energy came to an abrupt halt. The unholy, luminous aura
subsided and with it the pain. All then faded to black as, for the first
time in his long existence, the demon lord fell unconscious.
Writer: Aliera
Date Wed Aug 7 13:59:39 2019
Writer: Aliera
Date Wed Aug 7 16:18:08 2019
Writer: Kaisan
Date Wed Aug 7 16:26:44 2019
Writer: Feldritch
Date Wed Aug 7 20:21:26 2019
Writer: Cieran
Date Thu Aug 8 08:02:44 2019
Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Thu Aug 8 12:31:40 2019
Writer: Malichi
Date Sat Aug 10 21:58:20 2019
To All IMM RP Conclave
Subject The Ascension of the Demon Necrose: Part 2: The Unification
Seek power where it can be found, and claim it for yourself!. Be in
constant state of improvement, and you shall please her...... Praise be to
Drakkara!
Malichi Necrose leads the onlookers down into the caverns under Death
Garden. The witnesses shudder as a wet breath blows across their necks.
This is a place of pure evil. Yes, the darkness will be pleased. Flesh
drips down the walls as spiders scurry across the floor. In the library a
Master Necromancer and his students can be seen making preparations for some
sort of magical ritual.
Malichi of elven blood are you prepared for the consequences of this ritual?
You may perish, you may be disfigured, but what is certain is that you will
experience a pain like no other as if you have felt the strike of death
across your chest!
Master Necromancer I am ready.... We are ready.... To be joined as one
mind, one soul, one flesh!!! Let the consequences be damned!
Then so be it my child! *cackle*
Malichi lays down blood tipped stones in a circle around him as he kneels in
prayer. A cyan barrier of wavering light zips across the ground and rises
high overhead, forming a strong barrier between himself and the witnesses.
Oh Dark Mistress may my actions be true, may they exault you. If I falter
strike me down, if i please you lift me up, may your magicks flow through me
like darkness in the night and may the Black Moon bathe me in its dark
power!
My brothers come join me... In battle we are stronger... When death will
falter.... Sacrificed to the altar.
As the Master Necromancer speaks his students echo his chants. Malichi
suddenly flies up violently as he is carried by a dark cloud and spinning in
the air!
Malichi reaches out his hands towards the ground muttering an indecipherable
incantation as the undead rise from the earth grasping at the feet of the
worried and afraid onlookers. The undead focus their gaze on Malichi and
raise their arm towards him as a dark power begins to shake the cavern.
Malichi is bathed in darkness as the power of the Black Moon erupts through
a crack in the cavern roof!
One thousand years of wait is over. Now you claim what is rightfully
yours!!!!
The students join their master in the chant again and again as the ward of
protection glows brighter and brighter protecting the witnesses from the
power within.
Malichi is grasped by the Hand of Darkness as it breaks through the roof of
the cavern, piercing his flesh with blood claws.
Nooooooo.... The... Th..... The paaaaa.... Paaaaain!!!
Malichi is thrashed by dark magic as flesh is ripped from his body,
Witnesses!!! Let me hear your plea... What the elf LIVE.... Or DIE!!!???
The onlookers pleed with the Hand of Darkness to let Malichi live but the
evil being mocks them!
Your mercy displeases me as it shows weakness....This one shall DIE!!!!!
The Hand of Darkness gestures at Malichi as the elf's hands raise and shake,
not under his control, the dark being mutters an incantation as Boiling Acid
spews forth from Malichi's own hands covering his body in the acidic goo.
The Boiling Acid eats away at Malichi's skin exposing bone as he whispers an
incantation... As the acid finally eats its way through the his body he
falls to the ground DEAD.... But seemingly rises again, withstanding death,
while still in the grasp of The Hand of Darkness.
Malichi flies up in the air as the darkness consumes him. The Demon and Elf
merge into one soul, one spirit, one flesh as the process rips at Malichi's
skin, tearing his flesh and blood flying everywhere. He is scarred for
eternity in mind, flesh, and soul!!!
The witnesses gasp in horror as Malichi Necrose steps out of the barrier of
protection, revealing his scarred body, pieces of flesh hang from his body
like an undead corpse walking the land, one eye glows red, the other black
as night.
Yesssssssssssssss...... The ritual is complete..... The mistress is
please....The power of darkness reigns!!!!
Writer: Geirhart
Date Mon Aug 12 18:11:50 2019
Writer: Kaerick
Date Mon Aug 12 20:46:16 2019
Writer: Cieran
Date Tue Aug 13 07:01:24 2019
Writer: Cieran
Date Tue Aug 13 07:08:01 2019
Writer: Mercerion
Date Tue Aug 13 09:27:41 2019
Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Tue Aug 13 22:01:13 2019
Writer: Aliera
Date Wed Aug 14 10:38:23 2019
Writer: Drinzoud
Date Wed Aug 14 13:32:33 2019
Writer: Cieran
Date Wed Aug 14 13:36:27 2019
Writer: Daalegoth
Date Wed Aug 14 16:22:49 2019
Writer: Vittkis
Date Wed Aug 14 16:45:50 2019
Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Wed Aug 14 21:41:21 2019
Writer: Geirhart
Date Thu Aug 15 16:22:51 2019
Writer: Cieran
Date Thu Aug 15 17:09:54 2019
Writer: Aliera
Date Fri Aug 16 14:12:58 2019
Writer: Caireall
Date Fri Aug 16 17:37:05 2019
Writer: Malichi
Date Mon Aug 19 23:33:56 2019
To All Imm RP Conclave
Subject The Training of the Magi: The Dark Art of Necromancy
While it is the purpose of the Conclave to protect and teach magic across
the world of Algoron, many outside the Conclave of Magic consider the art of
Necromancy to be evil in origin. A power used only to destroy and pervert
the cycle of nature that exists within the realm.
To prosper one sometimes must take a step back, as one step back and two
steps forward leads to unimaginable power!!!
I must train my body to be more sturdy. I must learn how to ride these dead
bone ridden dragons. Yesssssss..... I will concentrate.... Focus my
energies on these tasks!!!
Malichi Necrose of the Black Robes kneels before the Dark Mistress Drakarra,
Queen of Darkness and pleads for enhanced learning, pleads for enhancement
and yurns for improvement. He walks the roads of Algoron, seeking tests and
tribulations, seeking a challenge. Malichi hardens his soul as he defeats
small monsters, hardens his desire as he seeks more challenge. He roams the
land in seek of more... More challenge... More blood... More power!!!
The demonic elf locks himself in the Library of the Black Robes. He opens
the Necromantic Books to further his knowledge, to seek out what was known
but forgotten, to seek out what is unknown but now rememebered.
Loud thuds and worried tones can be heard coming from outside the door.
Malichi focuses himself, he strips down to a minimal cloth wrapped around
his waist as bells can be heard coming from nowhere. A chant permeates the
library as a darkness enters the room and the scent of death, disease and
rot fills the air.
Have I not given you enough???? You wish to learn more do you?? Take what
you want little elf. The only obstacle is yourself. Show me your sacrifice
for the darkness!!!!
Malichi places himself in a circle of black candles as the full Black Moon
reaches high sanction. He quickly runs a blade across his chest as blood
pours out, pooling in the center of the circle. He stabs his gut, reaching
out to pull out his entrails as he reaches his blood and flesh covered hands
toward the sky seeking her blessing.
Yes dark one. May my magic flow through you as you exalt me with your glory
and power!!
Malichi is flung upward to the roof of the library as books spin All around
him. A black mist can be seen leaving these books and surrounding the elf's
head.
Yessssss.... The paaaaain..... The pppppooooooowwwwwweeeerrrr!!!!! {
He falls to the ground as the mist leaves the room, the chants dissipate and
disappear. He stands up, eyes focused, ready for the challenge that
awaits.....
Malichi Necrose will sharpen his thougths and magical skills under the
tutelage of the Wizards of the Conclave to further increase his power and
knowledge of the dark art of Necromancy.
May the death, disease, flesh, bone and rot lead him well......
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