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Player Written Story Note Archive

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

Listed By Author Name

To Apprehend a Traitor - Send in the Ironbreakers (Pt II)
To Apprehend a Traitor - Send in the Ironbreakers (Pt III)
To Apprehend a Traitor - Send in the Ironbreakers (Pt IV)
To Apprehend a Traitor - First Light (Part One)
No More Words
Hana wa sakuragi, hito wa bushi (Epilogue)
X The Challenge - Frozen Blood X
Not Alone: Watching Paint Dry 1/3
Verminasian Fairy Tales: Verminasia:The Enchanted Crystal
Verminasian Fairy Tales: Verminasia:The Enchanted Crystal
Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp
Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp
Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp
Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp
Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp
Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp
Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp
Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp
Journey II
Journey III
Weather's Reckoning
Upon Icewall
Something Wicked This Way Comes.
Deceiver's Abode ( Devion Temple Cleansing Storyline )
Warmed Over
Warmed Over II
To Apprehend a Traitor - The Advance I
To Apprehend a Traitor - The Advance II
He came this way, part I
He came this way, part II
The Battle Rages On (1/2)
The Battle Rages On (2/2)
Washing Away the Terrors
Books and Scars
Gorrakh's Demise
Tales of the Black Rose Part I: A side tale from "Night at the Museum, Part V"
Tales of the Black Rose Part II: A side tale from "Night at the Museum, Part V"
Tales of the Black Rose Part III: A side tale from "Night at the Museum, Part V
Tales of the Black Rose Part IV: A side tale from "Night at the Museum, Part V"
Tales of the Black Rose Part V: A side tale from "Night at the Museum, Part V"
A day's study ( Part 1 )
A day's study ( Part 2 )
Liberations: March of the Smallest Feet I
Hunting Traitors - Traitors at Home
|A| Chefs and Bakers and Cooks, Oh My |A|
Far away from home ( Part 1 )
The pursuit of the untamed Pt. 1
Capturing the Witch
The Witches Trial
Powerful Banned Alterations
The Alteration's True Form
Powerful Magic Breeds Powerful Consequence
A Fateful Encounter
A new path begins (I)
Liberations: March of the Smallest Feet II
Liberations: March of the Smallest Feet III
A Ghost in the Night 01
(Underhanded) Part I
(Underhanded) Part II
(Underhanded) Part III
(Underhanded) Part IV
Atonement Pains
Far away from home ( Part 2 )
A Fine Meal (---PART ONE---)
A Fine Meal (---PART TWO---)
A Fine Meal (---PART THREE---)
A Fine Meal (---PART FOUR---)
A Fine Meal (---PART FIVE---)
A Fine Meal (---PART SIX---)
A Fine Meal (---PART SEVEN---)
A Fine Meal (---PART EIGHT---)
A Fine Meal (---PART NINE---)
A Fine Meal (---PART TEN---)
A Fine Meal (---PART ELEVEN---)
A Fine Meal (---PART TWELVE---)
A Venture Home
Far away from home ( Part 3 )
Into the Mill
Hunting Traitors - Traitors in the Provences ( Heading Out )
Hunting Traitors - Traitors in the Provences ( The Night Before )
Boredom and its Consequences
Consequences of Boredom
X Beautiful Burning X
Not Alone: At Long Last
The Winds of Change
Making A Monster I
Making A Monster II
Making A Monster III
A Ghost in the Night 02
Sea Legs (part one)
Sea Legs (part two)
Sea Legs (part three)
Sea Legs (part four)
Sea Legs (part five)
Sea Legs (part six)
Sea Legs (part seven)
Sea Legs (part eight)
Sea Legs (part nine)
Sea Legs (part ten)
Sea Legs (part eleven)
Hunting Traitors - First Command (Part 1)
Hunting Traitors - Frist Command (Part 2)

Writer: Vahriah
Date Sat Jan 21 07:50:52 2017

Writer: Kraxul
Date Sat Jan 21 11:56:50 2017

To All Thaxanos Chaos Wargar Religion Nadrik Raije Imm RP

Subject To Apprehend a Traitor - Send in the Ironbreakers (Pt II)

Kraxul stood with his back to the door, his hands clasped behind his
back, as he wordlessly studied the large, expertly crafted world map on the
wall. He was especially interested in the blue areas of the map, being a
Captain of the Thaxanosian Royal Navy. He turned to face the Bishop.

Fardoc motioned to the table in the center of the room, urging the Captain
to take a seat. He nodded toward the map, saying "Found et in ah sealed
chamber under Dolund'ir. Still has battle notes and markings from tha third
war of Elvish aggression."

Kraxul nodded appreciatively. "Et bae ah useful artifact. Would fit well
on tha wall in mae navigation room aboard tha Shark."
He eased into one of
the stone chairs situated around the briefing table, comforted by the sturdy
coolness of the stone. "So let's get down ta cases, Thane. Wot bae tha

Fardoc says in a deep voice "Have ye been keepin' up with the news on the
traitor of ah dwarf who uses his craft tae forge weapons ahn armor for the

Kraxul looked down at the table. "Ah've reviewed your reports, but
that's about all. Ah've been ah bit preoccupied wit' tha blue horizon,
Thane. Tha treachery of tha twigs on tha high seas... Nae ah threat ta
take lightly, as ye know."

Fardoc poured two large mugs of ale and began to tell his story. The
Captain listened intently, asking questions and making notes in his log when


Writer: Kraxul

Date Sat Jan 21 13:08:57 2017

To All Thaxanos Chaos Wargar Religion Nadrik Raije Imm RP

Subject To Apprehend a Traitor - Send in the Ironbreakers (Pt III)

Fardoc arrived at Port Flindelgrom to find his men hustling back and
forth, up and down the loading ramp. The Ironbreakers carried identical
wooden crates. Each crate bore the words: "Thaxanosian Dark Ale: Not for

Fardoc glanced at a grinning Kraxul and sighed. He closed his eyes and said
quietly, "I do nae want ta know about et, Captain." He walked up the steps
to the lighthouse, motioning for Kraxul to follow him.

It was warm inside the lighthouse. Once inside, Kraxul grabbed a clean rag
from a shelf and began wiping the windows down. "Tha key, Bishop, is ta
keep tha soot from buildin up. Ef yer wipe tha winders down ever day, ets
so much easier ta keep em clean. Helps mae guide mae ships in after ah tank
or two o' rum."

He stood at the window, watching the troops load ale onto the Bearded Wench.
The waterline was rising on the outer hull. By the time All the ale was
loaded, she would be riding noticibly low. "Ye know, ah could probably get
mae Admiral rank back ef ah could let go o' mae little side operations."

He turned to look at Fardoc, a jovial glint in his eye, and said "Smugglin
bae in tha blood though. In tha soul. Keeps mae young, ye know?"

Fardoc remained silent. He was mentally erasing the word "smuggling" from
his head. "I do nae want ta know of yer side operations, Captain. I'm nae
judgin ye, but I'd prefer ta stay out of et."

Kraxul nodded and continued speaking, ignoring Fardoc's request. "Tha world
wants our ale. Et's mae duty ta supply et. O'corse demand has gone down
recently wot with tha advent o' tha Brewmaster's guild, there bae small
batches o' homebrew croppin up All over tha world. Ah may have ta find ah
new angle."

Fardoc looked at the newly sketched map, drawn recently with charcoal on the
stone wall. There were circles and lines and arrows. Some had been smudged
out and replaced. He expertly changed the subject. "I see yer nae wantin
ta land at tha public port."

Kraxul joined him and pointed at Haven on the map. "This bae where we land.
Trust mae. Better this way."
He traced the route from Haven to the Slussi
Monestary, pointing out high ground for scouting spots. Fardoc shook his
head. "Ahve got that part planned out already, Captain. You get us there
and get us home in one peice. There always bae tha possibility that tha
trip home may need ta bae made in haste, with warplings and gods know wot
else on our tails."

Kraxul nodded thoughtfully. "Ah'll see you in Haven, brother."


Writer: Kraxul

Date Sat Jan 21 14:31:34 2017

To All Thaxanos Chaos Wargar Religion Nadrik Raije Imm RP

Subject To Apprehend a Traitor - Send in the Ironbreakers (Pt IV)

Kraxul laughed loudly and passed the jug of rum back to Willy. He puffed
deeply on his pipe and tried to blow smoke rings, failing miserably, causing
him to laugh again. They watched a scroungy band of buccaneers rolling
wooden barrels up the gangplank to the Bearded Wench. The ale had already
been offloaded, the ship now riding much higher in the water.

Willy took another swig of rum, spilling some down his front, then passed
the jug back to Kraxul. The dwarf handed it back, shaking his head. "Thank
ye lad, but ah still got work ta do."
He stood up slowly, swaying a
little, and made his way back to his ship.

One eyed Willy watched the dwarf board his ship, then went back to his jug.


Grunt Korrigun rolled a barrel of rum down the steps toward the cargo bay.
He carefully rolled it down one step at a time, knowing the punishment for
breaking one would be deeply unpleasant. As the barrel rolled into the
cargo hold, it thumped into another barrel. Already there had been a dozen
taken down here and just left haphazardly. Korrigun sighed and began to
right the barrels and put them where they belong.

Kraxul appeared in the doorway and began inspecting barrels. "Grunt!
Whatever your name is. Fine job, you stay here and put these barrels up and
ah'll send tha other lads ta bring em to ya. Now listen--"

Korrigun's mood brightened as soon as the captain told him he wouldn't be
hauling the heavy barrels down the steps anymore.

"Look close at tha tops. Also tha weight. Ah few o' these are lighter.
An' they smell ah bit different."

Kraxul tipped the barrel he was inspecting up on edge so the light caught
the painted brown X on the top. He pried the lid off and pulled a handful
of rich tobacco out, filling his pouch before hammering the lid back on.
"These go nex' door. There should bae a few wit' a green X on top. Keep
them near tha door and when tha whole lot bae loaded, get them up to mae
cabin. May'ap ah'll even share."

Korrigun looked puzzled and snapped a quick salute. "Aye sar!" He went
back to his duty, working extra hard so long as the Captain was still
watching him. Kraxul watched him carefully for a minute, then disappeared
through the doorway. He ran to the Captain's quarters and bellowed for a

The messenger appeared in front of the Captain nervous and out of breath.
Kraxul handed him a sealed scroll with Fardoc's name on it, then went to his
cabin, stumbling into his hammock.

Writer: Fardoc

Date Sun Jan 22 09:17:46 2017

To All Thaxanos Wargar Chaos Staldrache Nadrik Religion Storyline Imm RP

Subject To Apprehend a Traitor - First Light (Part One)

Gorlend Warpeye.

The name for the traitor, at last, had been revealed to Fardoc. The missive
from Betha had been the last thing the Bishop read prior to his departure
from Thaxanos to Tropica. In truth, now that orders had been given and
plans had been laid, the name of the traitor was now of little consequence.

The dwarf had a fair idea of where he might be, and his name would only
matter when he and the Ironbreakers take him into custody, so they had
something to call the prisoner while awaiting trial for him crimes.

The Bearded Wench had already departed several hours before dawn, and if all
had gone to plan, their arrival would be perhaps half an hour before
daylight. Just long enough to disembark and make the trek to the tunnels,
and be underground when the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon.
Unlike the 1st Ironbreakers, the Bishop, alone, could take the risk of
magical travel to the island, where the size of the company of warriors made
travel by magical nexus inadvisable.

Drawing upon the magic granted to him by Nadrik, Fardoc uttered a short
spell and light erupted from the glittering stone clutched in his hand,
forming into a shimmering nexus. With scarcely a look behind him, the dwarf
strode through the portal, instantly finding himself in a familiar location
on the continent of Tropica.

Casting his eyes around the clearing, the dwarf quickly found who he was
looking for. A paladin clad in gleaming armor, the familiar form of
Meroveus, stood alone within the jungle. The air was muggy and humid, but
the warmth of the sun had yet to bake the expanse of trees to its full
potential, as it was still an hour before dawn.

He nodded to the Bishop when he saw him appear from the portal, yet his face
was unreadable. "Greetings Bishop. It is time, yes?"

Neither of the two smiled or expressed any joy at each others presence,
maintaining their grim composure. They each knew that the business this
morning was deadly serious, and resolved to keep their focus on the mission
and naught else. Fardoc returned the paladins question with a short nod,
and approached him to clasp his hand in greeting.

"Aye, ets toime. We are meetin up with the 1st Ironbreakers et Haven, nay the
public port, then they are goin tae cross overland tae the Slussi Monastery,
usin the high ground as scoutin points. While theyre travellin, well take
tae the skies ahn bae their lookout for the horde of Malachive, should they
bae expectin us tae advance on em, just loike we planned."

The paladin nodded, and took several steps away from the Bishop into the
center of the clearing. "I will change forms, Bishop. And remember, while
we fly, feel free to direct me as necessary."

The knight was engulfed in smoke and shining light for several moments until
the form of an enormous ancient Steel dragon was in his place, extending a
clawed leg for the dwarf to climb onto. Fardoc showed little surprise at
the transformation, as familiar as he was with the shift. He had witnessed
the event countless times as the warder of Immersa, and the sight, despite
the seriousness of the occasion, brought a wave of nostalgia and pang of
grief onto the priest. Stuffing the emotion deep within himself, the dwarf
climbed up the proffered leg, and settled himself onto the dragons back,
between two prominent neck spikes.

With a lurch, the two figures were thrust into the sky. They rose above the
heavy foliage and aligned themselves towards Haven, flying as low to the
treetops and as quickly as stealth and secrecy would allow.

Writer: Elrei

Date Sun Jan 22 14:32:15 2017

To All Taliena Imm RP

Subject No More Words

Fifteen years, by the Old Calendar.

That was how long he had spent, trying to spread Her message through soft
words, soft actions, demonstrations of love and acceptance - trying to lead
by example. Fourteen of those, as Her chosen Prophet.

But as it turned out, the majority of the world didn't seem to respond to

Elrei looked down at the words he had written, the words he would never send
out. Words that, if they came from someone else would be hailed, but from
him would be condemned - because he was never allowed to lose his temper.
He was never allowed to raise his voice, no matter how loud others were.
For him to yell, for whatever reason, caused others to simply dismiss him.

Oh, but how he wanted to.

He wanted his words to ring out across the world, their frustration and
disappointment - long compressed by time and troubles - finally sprung loose
against those who did nothing but spread hatred and fear. He wanted shame
to burn in their cheeks, as they finally felt the rebuke that had been
building for so long against their childish acts.

The temptation to turn his skill with words into a weapon burned brightly.
He had resisted such urges for so long, and people tended to overlook the
fact that the knowledge of how not to wound with words accompanied the
knowledge of how to put them to devastating effect.

Only someone devoted to doing no harm knew exactly how easy it was to cause.

But he knew, as well, that despite him viewing them as children, they were
not. They would not respond as children, they could not be sent to their
rooms to reflect until they were ready to apologize and change their
behavior. No matter how juvenile, how infantile the actions were, they were
being perpetrated by those fully grown.

Elrei liked to think that words had power. As a former, long-time member of
the bardic guilds, he knew there was magic in them. Yet such thoughts
seemed hollow, considering how little he had truly accomplished with words
over the course of his lifetime. And, after fifteen years, he was only
repeating himself.

Those who listened were of like mind already. Those that needed to, never

Writer: Mra'krarz

Date Mon Jan 23 13:33:25 2017

To All ( Roleplay Religion )

Subject Hana wa sakuragi, hito wa bushi (Epilogue)

So many weeks had passed, or were they months now? The ebb and flow of
time had taken a tone of less importance to the Wemic as he trained. His
mind had been cleared, the wants and desires of the world had All but been
replaced with singular purpose: To defend -his- cause. Strength was akin to
a seed, that when planted, can only grow if nurtured. If neglected, it
rotted to its core. It became weak, it became vulnerable, it became the
worst of the world.

Each lesson he had learned was not solely attached to a way of fighting, but
also to a way of -being-. Peace was there when he needed it, anger was
there when he needed it, his emotions were now at his beck and call. Days
spent staring into the waters, or spent beneath frigid cascades, had inured
him to boredom and discomfort. Those days had allowed him to reflect, to
see the chinks in his armor and where tiny yet poor choices wormed their way
within, spreading that crack until he had at last become wounded.

But like any wound, it healed. Like any good warrior, the armor was
repaired and the blade sharpened. He did not rest on his laurels, he did
not simply learn for the sake of others. He learned for himself. He was
not of any pride any longer, he was not of a family, not of the world
beyond. He was simply himself. Stronger, smarter, swifter. Each day that
passed warmed the Wemic to the thought that some day he would return to the
mainland. That he would see the faces of his past and confront them not
with fear or anger, but with cool composure. That which was displeasing
would be trimmed and pruned away. That which was good and worthy would be
doted upon and cared for.

A grim smile pulled back the lips of his feline muzzle, teeth bared to the
world as if in challenge. Let it come, he was prepared. He was a warrior.
He was a samurai. He was a ronin.

His purpose was his own.

Writer: Uruvion

Date Wed Jan 25 00:33:07 2017

Writer: Zola

Date Wed Jan 25 03:40:40 2017

To All Abaddon Bloodlust Verminasia Darkonin Immortals Fatale

Subject X The Challenge - Frozen Blood X

Baraxis was a Bakali, red-scaled and vicious of nature. Ordinarily, he'd
be a prime candidate for Fatale, as he loved the scent of blood, but he was
a reckless berserker who paid lip service to the God of War, and the
Deathscythe found him intolerable. Likewise, Baraxis found the Cardinal
annoying, and hunted him often. Their fights finally brought them to
Icewall, to a part of the mountains.

He was almost upon Zola when the Deathscythe sprang his trap, and the ground
collapsed beneath Baraxis, leaving the scaly assassin to tumble down into a
pit dug into the cold ground. Right into the midst of a room lined with
some sort of metal, easily as big as an inn room and with an even higher
ceiling. Even the tall bakali would be unable to reach the exit so high

The Deathscythe loomed over him like a spectre of death, hollow eyes peering
down at the bakali assassin, who found himself shivering. And not just from
fear. The pit he'd fallen into was freezing cold, and after a moment, he
realized why, it was packed full of ice blocks.

"Enjoying your new accommodations?" inquired Zola. "The very latest from
Gahboom's Cooling and Ice Guild. They call it a Fridge. I've made some
modificatons of my own. How do you like it?"

Teeth chattering, the bakali couldn't quite make a response, busy as he was
rubbing his arms and trying to restore circulation to his limbs. Already he
was starting to feel sluggish, his blood cooling, his heart-rate slowing,
and his brain numbing from the cold. Bakali favored great heat to keep
warm, the cold left them lethargic and helpless. In his weakened state,
Baraxis could be finished off by Zola easily.

But it seemed his fate was to be far worse than that.

Slamming the lid to the trap closed, Zola stepped atop of it, adding his
weight to the sturdy flooring. Normally, a bakali like Baraxis could have
picked up his meager weight and tossed him aside like a ragdoll, but given
the height of the trap, he would be lucky to reach the lid even if he
jumped, and All of the power behind such would be lost almost immediately.
Even so, Zola felt a dull thud as Baraxis scrambled, trying to find an
escape before his blood slowed to a crawl and he went into a pre-emptive
hibernative state. Dangerous for reptiles.

He waited there a long while, listening for sounds of escape, but after the
briefest of moments, nothing. Even so, he remained, and waited to be sure.
Only when it was the dead of night did Zola finally open the lid, checking
on the condition of his frozen prey. Baraxis didn't even twitch, a fine
coating of frost on his reptilian snout indicating he was fast frozen.

Under cover of Darkness, Zola had him transported to the Graveyard of Fallen
Enemies, and into a specially prepared casket along the latest row of
headstones. A miniature version of the freezing unit he'd capture the
bakali assassin in, it would ensure he kept his present temperature for the
remainder of his existence.

Frozen beneath the ground, blood turned to ice.

Writer: Teimhnean

Date Wed Jan 25 11:19:48 2017

Writer: Teimhnean

Date Wed Jan 25 11:33:12 2017

Writer: Teimhnean

Date Wed Jan 25 11:44:20 2017

Writer: Teimhnean

Date Wed Jan 25 12:09:37 2017

Writer: Teimhnean

Date Wed Jan 25 12:09:41 2017

Writer: Teimhnean

Date Wed Jan 25 12:09:44 2017

Writer: Cassian

Date Wed Jan 25 14:35:53 2017

Writer: Cassian

Date Wed Jan 25 14:36:08 2017

Writer: Cassian

Date Wed Jan 25 14:36:37 2017

Writer: Benthic

Date Wed Jan 25 23:29:47 2017

Writer: Arreana

Date Thu Jan 26 08:55:04 2017

To All Teimhnean Althainia Knighthood Justice Immortal Taliena Religion Storyline Roleplay

Subject Not Alone: Watching Paint Dry 1/3

/ Not Alone: Prophetize, Arreana, feat: Elrei 04 /
| As a novitiate Priestess, Arreana remembered the first time she met with |
| Taliena's Prophet: Elrei Avendale. The Elf was quiet and unassuming. Looking |
| at him, one might have assumed that he was no one. In fact, the obvious |
| physical features aside, he had the bearing and aura of an ordinary man. Who |
| was this person, of whom Taliena had chosen as Her esteemed mortal |
| representative. |
| |
| However, upon truly meeting the Elf, Arreana quickly learned that he was |
| anything but ordinary. His longevity and Elvish patience gave him a |
| remarkably sedate quality, perfect for putting one's mind at ease and |
| creating a profound sense of calm. |
| |
| The Prophet also slightly intimidated her. Though, at the time, he had been |
| pursuing Bardic learning, Arreana couldn't help but defer to him, for he had |
| been chosen by Taliena herself. |
| |
| At the moment, however, she was watching paint dry. |
| |
| The time that the Prophet had taken to analyze and edit her work was quite |
| incredible. Then again, time was felt very differently by Elves. The truth |
| was that the edits were helpful, however mundane they might be. In that |
| respect, what she was doing was far more productive than watching paint dry. |
| |
| She must have made quite the sight, surrounded as she was by parchments |
| beyond mere counting. It was like a cyclone of drafts, with her in the very |
| center of its eye. She did her very best to keep her wings tight against her |
| back. Their perpetual habit of moving would cause a paper or two to fly up |
| and out of place on occasion. |
| |
| Most of the parchments were in her clear, flowing script. It was ordered |
| and consistent, from a lifetime of penning documents for the church. Then |
| there were a handful of documents with a different handwriting altogether. If |
| Arreana was being honest with herself, the writing on those documents was |
| superior to her own, even if only by a small margin. |
| |
| These were the Prophet's notes, and she treasured them, even though they |
| consisted largely of editorial comments. It didn't matter how high Arreana |
| would ever rank in Taliena's Church, she would always be in awe of Elrei. He |
| was unfailingly modest, patient, and well-learned. While Arreana strove to |
| spread Taliena's word with her own voice, she knew that a part of her strove |
| to emulate the Elf. |
| |
| Which happened to make his opinions very important, no matter how |
| unimportant they might be. It also happened to be the only written feedback |
\ that she received. \

Writer: Mathesan

Date Thu Jan 26 09:37:10 2017

To All Verminasia Immortal Storyline

Subject Verminasian Fairy Tales: Verminasia:The Enchanted Crystal

Verminasian Fairy Tales
Verminasia:The Enchanted Crystal (I)

It is rumored that beneath Verminasia, deep in the bowels of the earth, that
there is a vast network of cavernous tunnels and caves. However, every cave
around Verminasia had definitive ends, they had been explored by dozens of the
best spelunkers from around Algoron.

There was a solitary exception.

One cave, the Gaping Maw, lay north of the city and was famous for two of its
unique features: the first was that its walls and ceiling, as well as much of
the floor, were littered with countless small, glowing crystals. Many of the
crystals had been mined from the floor to make pathways through the massive
cave. However, there were guards from Verminasia constantly on watch to ensure
that thieves did not take crystals from elsewhere in the cave.

The second feature was known only as the Bottomless Pit. A deep hole that
completed the Maw: a massive entrance, glittering crystal teeth, and an equally
massive throat in the Bottomless Pit.

Many of the bravest spelunkers attempted the Bottomless Pit, but most of them
were only down for a few hours before the sheer terror of the Pit's overwhelming
darkness seized them. There was not a single crystal in the walls of the pit,
which was a curious oddity, since it was made of the same stone as the rest of
the cave.

A few of the adventurous spelunkers simply did not return. In a couple cases,
witnesses reported hearing screams, though, most of the time, there was no
indication of what happened to them. When their ropes were hoisted, the loops
which had formed their belts were torn and frayed.

Ill'faunas was a famous Elven explorer. Among his kind. As a Drow Elf, he hailed
from the Althainian continent, and his fame was known to few outside the Drow
community. Among them, he was known as "the Spider."

Nevertheless, he was received warmly in Verminasia by then-king Tenaki and given
permission to attempt the daunting Bottomless Pit that had so far remained

The Spider brought with him a team of adventurers with whom he had explored the
depths of the Drow underground, and whom he trusted with his life. They camped
outside the Maw for a week in preparation. Every day, the Spider would take one
or two of his comrades and descend the Pit for several hours before returning.

Visitors were curious, but the Drow performed their runs at night and they were
silent upon entering, and when they returned.

The Drow that were left behind would hunt at night, and the result of their
kills could be seen daily in meat left out to dry, or packed in barrels of salt.
Though Verminasia had sent extra guards in order to offer the Spider's
protection, one Drow could be seen at All times beneath the shade of a tarp just
outside their tent.

When the night came for their live descent, there was no fanfare. The only
difference was that All of the Drow, save two, accompanied the Spider for the
descent. The Drow are known for their intensely private nature. Of All the
sentient races on Algoron, they are perhaps the most reclusive.

What remains as a record of their adventures may lie in some ancient tome in
Verminasia's records, but even those accounts, if they exist, are unlikely to
contain All of the details.

Hereafter there is only rumor and speculation, but the tales that are told
have been passed down through the generations.

End, Part 1.

Writer: Mathesan

Date Thu Jan 26 09:39:19 2017

To All Verminasia Immortal Storyline

Subject Verminasian Fairy Tales: Verminasia:The Enchanted Crystal

Verminasian Fairy Tales
Verminasia:The Enchanted Crystal (II)

It took almost a whole week for the Drow to find the bottom of the Pit. Even
with that challenge completed, there was no fanfare. However, every day, one
of the Drow guards left behind would visit the Pit during their change of
shift with a tome and a quill.

The caverns of the deep remain unexplored by most because of the dangerous
creatures that exist there. Even the Drow kept mostly to the areas around their
own communities. It was the few of their finest, like the Spider, Ill'faunas,
who dared the unknown.

Some say that the creatures below Verminasia were particular horrors of
unfathomable power. Only the Spider and two Drow returned from their adventure
in the deeps.

However, a most peculiar story was spread around the realm after the Spider
spoke with the king. If such a meeting took place, there is no official record
of it.

In the tale it is said that the Spider and the survivors of the party explored
and charted the vast caverns beneath the city. However, directly beneath
Verminasia, or so the Drow reckoned, but their sense of such things is

In that particular cavern the glowing crystals were at their densest and
brightest. They were massive as well, with large shards that towered over the
Drow, rising to a height only matched by Giants.

One crystal was larger than the rest. It soared up from the ground like a
fortress turret, and at least as high as a cathedral's spire. When the Spider
approached the crystal, he muttered many ancient arcane spells, some known only
to his people.

When he reached out to touch the crystal for one of these spells, the crystal
responded, pulsing. The spell, however, revealed nothing. When the Spider
removed his hand the image of a man appeared in the crystal. The man was clearly
Elven, but it was not the Spider, nor could it have been a Drow, for his skin
was fair.

It is rumored that the Spider reacted by drawing his blade and striking the
Crystal, but his blade shattered like ice upon its contact and the Elf inside
seemed unharmed.

The Spider and his remaining companions tried everything they knew in an attempt
to crack the surface of the Crystal and reach their foe inside. Eventually the
Spider stopped their efforts and walked up to the Crystal once more, placing his
hand upon it.

As he did so, words floated up next to the Elf:

* High Elf
* Dark Elf
* Drow Elf

Curious, the Spider tapped "Drow Elf" with his finger and the Elf on the Crystal
changed in response, growing somewhat shorter, his skin darkening, gaining the
distinctive features of the Spider's race.

This time the words appeared over the Elf, the other words fading:

"Will you play? ( Yes / No )"

Hesitating only a moment, the Spider placed his finger on "yes" and the image of
the Elf shimmered and vanished, along with the text. The legend says that the
other crystals in the room dimmed and a menacing sound thundered through the

The image on the Crystal shifted to show a Drow Elf in some underground town,
though it was no town as the Spider recognized it. While wandering the town,
which the Spider supposedly controlled by touching points on the Crystal, he
discovered a quest.

The rest is left to any specific accounts that may have been recorded but are
left to faded pages in tomes no longer read. It is said that the Spider "played"
on the Crystal for several days, taking breaks only to eat, drink, and answer
nature's call. At the end, he completed the quest. Though the magic was amazing,
the journey was long and the Drow left, never returning.


Writer: Laeroth

Date Thu Jan 26 14:30:53 2017

Writer: Laeroth

Date Thu Jan 26 14:31:14 2017

Writer: Karden

Date Mon Jan 30 19:07:55 2017

Writer: Karden

Date Mon Jan 30 21:34:16 2017

Writer: Karden

Date Mon Jan 30 21:38:17 2017

Writer: Rnecs

Date Tue Jan 31 11:48:23 2017

Writer: Anathaelynn

Date Wed Feb 1 08:37:01 2017

Writer: Mathesan
Date Wed Feb 1 09:17:42 2017

To All Verminasia Immortal Storyline

Subject Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp

Verminasian Fairy Tales
The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp (I)

This journey into the Death Marshes was not filled with the pomp and
circumstance of Mathesan's previous trip to the area. At that time, he had used
his resources in order to speed up research on long-forgotten fairy tales. This
time, however, he was searching for a real-life fairy tale.

Witches of the marshes, also known as Hags, were incredibly reclusive creatures
with awful and terrifying power. In stories, they most often led men to their
deaths, posing as beautiful young women prepared to seduce their victims. Only
in their victims' last moments did they reveal their hideous faces, an ugliness
that was beyond measure or compare. One which reached deep into their souls.

The swamps in the Death Marshes were numerous and many of them were so close
together that they often appeared as one big swamp, in spite of the numerous
smaller ones that they were. Subtle differences distinguished them. Each marsh
had a particular smell, feel, and coloration to their water.

The largest of these, known only as the Great Marsh, lay along the border to
Markon. Mathesan had seen it more than once, but only at a distance. It was
rumored that great Black Wyrms resided in the depths of the swamps, along with
hideous Ogabli, and swamp Hags.

One fairy tale in particular had caught Mathesan's attention upon reading it. In
the tale, there was a kingdom from before Verminasia. It was a smaller kingdom,
less grand, less... powerful. However, their lands did extend over the Death
Marshes which, at the time, were simply referred to as the Marshes.

It happened that a young King rose to power in that kingdom. Along with his
trusted knights, he braved the monsters of the realm: fought Black Wyrms, Beholders, and All manner of dangerous, powerful creatures.

However, one day, the King ventured into the Marsh on his own. Rumors had
circulated of some powerful magic wielder who was coming out from the swamps,
raiding farm lands, and returning under the cover of night. It was difficult
enough to walk quietly alone in the Marshes, let alone trying to get All of
his men to do the same.

The trip was slow-going, each step threatened to splash water and alert
who-knew-what to him. Eventually he found a small hill in the midst of the
swamp. As the entirety of the Marshes were flat lands, the hill was a peculiar
sight. Drawn to it, it was only when he noticed light coming from a cave
entrance that he paused and considered whether or not going in, unaware, was the
best plan.

Something moved in his peripheral vision. He glanced to the source of the
movement, but only saw the tufts of tall grass spread throughout the entire,
miserable region. The young King was in the middle of turning around when he
found a woman standing there, nose-to-nose with him. She hard large, enormous
eyes and a certain presence about her that simply grabbed one's intention.

The young King felt that maybe he should have brought some of his knights after
all, but the time for regret was passed.

In front of him lay the alluring, but mysterious woman, and he was miles from
help. She smiled coyly at him, batting her eyelashes and retreating into the
darkness from which she had appeared.

The young King was not going to give up that easily. He pursued her through the
moonlit swamp. She made an arc around the hill, the splashes of her footfalls
the only indicator of where she was. Then the splashes stopped.

Baffled for a moment, it took a moment for the young King to realize that, to
his right, the glow of the cave opening shone through the dark. The young King
approached it with All caution, but when he looked inside, his muscles tensed
as though paralyzed.

Before him was a Hag.

End, Part 1.

Writer: Mathesan

Date Wed Feb 1 09:19:21 2017

To All Verminasia Immortal Storyline

Subject Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp

Verminasian Fairy Tales
The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp (II)

The young King gazed upon the hideous creature, his repulsion evident, carved
along his graceful features in a way that didn't flatter him either. He had
heard of Hags from stories, but he had never seen one. Never expected he would

It was true that Hags were incredible spellcasters, but of natural magic, not

"Foul beast, begone!" The young King exclaimed, brandishing his sword in hopes
of striking fear into its evil heart.

But the Hag only cackled and stepped closer to him. Panic began to take over and
the young King stepped backward for every step forward the Hag made. After a few
moments of this, the Hag withdrew something from within its tangled hair. A gem
that shone with a brilliance greater than a diamond, and yet it was not a stone.
In horror, the young King realized the Hag held an eyeball in its hand. A Hag

He turned to look away, but it was already too late. The young King gazed
vacantly into the eye. The Hag was no longer a Hag, but, instead, a beautiful
woman with bold, long black hair. She was clad in a simple chiffon dress in a
lovely shade of teal. Her eyes were seductive, a blue-green that matched her
dress, lined in khol with gray eye-shadow to add a smoky touch to her look.

"Mmmm..." The beautiful woman murmured, "...you're cute."

The young King was no match for the spell that had been cast upon him, nor were
the members of his court. He swiftly married the mysterious woman. There were
rumors that she had the King under some sort of spell, but none of the rumors
knew she was a Hag.

The kingdom was deceived for nearly two years, and though the King became
increasingly less social, and his rule more tyrannical, the rumors about the
Queen were merely rumors, whispers of discontent. No one had seen her cast even
the most minor spells.

It happened after a couple of years that a true maiden came through the kingdom,
and she was a practitioner of the Art.

This maiden had beauty to rival the Queen. Her hair was red, instead of black,
like the ruddy color of leaves turning in the fall. She had emerald eyes which
twinkled whenever she smiled. She was dressed simply in robes of an Arcanist.
They were simple, but functional, and denoted her as a graduate of an academy of
the Art, though not yet a master.

The Queen was drawn by the stories of the young Arcanist. For a Hag of the swamp
is always envious of beauty, and she could not tolerate the thought that there
might be one considered more fair.

However, the Hag's curiosity and jealousy outweighed her better judgment. For
the young Arcanist sensed a magical anomaly upon her approach. Wary and careful,
the young woman watched the Queen as she made a show of going through the
various potions, scrolls, and other magical materials that the Arcanist

Only when the Queen's back was turned did the young Arcanist summon the bravery
to cast a spell that would give her sight beyond sight. The spell revealed the
Hag for what she was, but only the young Arcanist could see her. A dilemma
ensued, the young Arcanist could try and appeal to the kingdom that their Queen
was not who they thought she was, but she knew nothing of their rumors. As far
as she knew, she was alone in her suspicions.
The Arcanist knew that the King was planning on attending the annual Harvest
festival with his Queen, and so she hatched a plan.

The Hag had also been formulating a plan. Her use of the King was almost
over, and she planned to rule in his place.

When All was settled, she would invite her sisters, and, together, they would
form a coven, one capable of holding the entire kingdom under sway of their

End, Part 2.

Writer: Mathesan

Date Wed Feb 1 09:20:21 2017

To All Verminasia Immortal Storyline

Subject Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp

Verminasian Fairy Tales
The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp (III)

It was a simple matter for a skilled Arcanist to reveal illusions and hidden
magic to their sight. However, allowing others to do the same was a far more
complicated task.

It was a spell with which she would require help. While it was possible for a
Master Arcanist to cast such a spell on their own, she was no master. However,
it was not difficult for a beautiful woman such as herself to obtain help.

The Arcanist made it known that she was single and looking for company. She knew
that this would travel through the right channels and afford her the opportunity
she was looking for.

Her initial offers were from a variety of men, from wealthy merchants to lesser
nobles. She entertained most of the offers, for, though she was waiting for a
specific offer, she knew it would arouse suspicion if the only offer she
accepted was the one she had been waiting for.

Meanwhile, the harvest festival drew near and the Hag, now Queen, was preparing
a poisonous potion that she would slip to the King during the Grand Feast. It
would require a touch of cleverness. The King had a taste-tester specifically to
root out poisons. However, after the initial tasting, the King usually dispensed
of the tester. It was during this moment that the Queen would be able to sneak
poison into one of the King's drinks, without arousing suspicion to herself.

The devilish brew she was developing was unlike common alchemical poisons. It
was a manifestation of Hag-magic concentrated into physical form. The sufferer
of the poison would have terrible nightmares, and be in near-constant pain
until, finally, passing away two to three days later.

The preparations for the festival began to ramp up in earnest as it drew within
a week. Temporary stages were erected, stall-based shops sprang up, and
decorations were strung up along the streets and palace, All the way through to
the Banquet hall.

Just two days before the festival, the Arcanist received the invitation she was
waiting for. The Master of kingdom's Tower desired to meet with her. She
accepted, and prepared for the meeting in a way that she had not bothered to
with the others.

It was on the eve of the festival when the dinner took place. The Arcanist
arrived at the tower just as the fifth tolling of the bell marked the top of the
hour. She was well-accustomed with the Tower, having paid their due so that she
had access to their resources during her stay.

However, the Arcanist had not been to the top of the Tower. A floating platform
raised her past the otherwise arduous journey of the stairwell. She was
especially thankful for this as she had traded in her robes for the evening in
order to put on a luxurious gown, one that had stretched her funds tight, and
was full of far more frills and lace than she was used to.

As she arrived at the top of the Tower, she waited nervously as a young pupil
entered the Master's inner-quarters to announce her arrival. It took only a few
moments, but to the Arcanist it felt like hours. Finally, the boy came back out
and bowed.

"The Master will receive you now, ma'am." He said, and, as she stepped off of
the platform, he stepped onto it and descended.

Even as the Arcanist watched the platform disappear, a large circular stone
moved to cover the hole so as to prevent accidental falling. Turning to the
door to the inner-quarters, the Arcanist mused upon what the encounter would
be like.

End, Part 3.

Writer: Mathesan

Date Wed Feb 1 09:21:04 2017

To All Verminasia Immortal Storyline

Subject Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp

Verminasian Fairy Tales
The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp (IV)

The Master of the Tower was a mysterious man. Though his name was
likely known by many, everyone referred to him as the Master, and refused to
acknowledge anything else. There were no portraits of him and he did not
often descend from his Tower. Everything he needed was provided to him there.

Tentatively, the Arcanist opened the wooden door and entered.

The Master's study was not at All what she had expected. It was not uncommon for
magic-users to be somewhat ecentric in their behavior the longer they practiced,
and most were also messy, too focused on abstract magical theory and study to
have time for the mundane task of organizing.

This practitioner, however, clearly had a very ordered mind. The study was
absolutely spotless. Further, it was almost bare. A single, lonely bookshel
stood against the far wall, next to a window. A small, simple cot provided a
bed, and a table contained the basic elements of alchemy kit, as well as
parchment and ink.

Nothing was out of place, save for the fact that the Master himself was not in
the room. This was especially odd as she had heard the muffled voice of the boy
talking to someone.

A small table had been set up by the window, upon it was a candle and place
settings for two. A table beside it had two domed platters. Fighting down her
curiosity, the Arcanist seated herself at the table while she waited for the
Master to appear.

As she was doing so, a loud and terrible grinding noise issues. It wasn't
immediately obvious where the sound had come from. It wasn't until the Arcanist
turned her head that she noticed one of the walls had open up, revealing a
hidden doorway.

It briefly occurred to the Arcanist that it was strange that she hadn't heard
the sound after the boy had entered the room. However, it was possible the that
there was some other way inside -- or that the boy simply talked through the
"Ah, yes. Hello there, Miss Talon." The older man said as she made his way to
the table and began to seat himself.

The man looked as old as Algoron itself. His face was like a map, with his
wrinkles forming little roadways across his features. He had no beard, but he
did have long, white hair, which was kept groomed. He was dressed merely in
simple Wizard's robes, causing the Arcanist to curse inwardly for not having
asked the question of what to wear. She felt over-dressed.

"I am the Master of this kingdom's Tower. I'm glad you could make it to the
dinner. It is rare that we have a guest of your caliber, and your beauty is
exceptional indeed."

The Arcanist was unsure if she should have felt flattered or offended.

On one hand, she prided herself on her beauty, she would never opt to reduce the
amoung of praise or attention she received for it. On the other hand, it often
felt like she was being subjectively judged due to her birth. Even though
female rulers, warriors, and Arcanists were prominent throughout the realm,
there was still a sense, in some places, it was still believed that women did
not have the necessary temperament to harness t he powers of the Art.

"Thank you," was the Arcanist's terse response. "I would like to discuss a
proposal if you've the time."

The Master merely smiled and nodded, "Certainly. However, the food is getting
cold, why don't we dine and discuss after?"

It was difficult to refute that argument.

Dinner turned out to be roasted duck, with a medley of vegetables, paired with
a deep pinot noir. It was, intriguingly, the best meal she'd had out of All of
the invitations she had entertained thus far.

It spoke either to the Master's power, or his desire for her. Or both.

End, Part 4.

Writer: Mathesan

Date Wed Feb 1 09:21:58 2017

To All Verminasia Immortal Storyline

Subject Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp

Verminasian Fairy Tales
The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp (V)

After the meal, the Arcanist got down to business. The Master wasn't entirely
pleased with her deception in order to gain audience with her. Nevertheless, he
saw the same danger as she did, and agreed to help with her plan.

Happy about the success of her efforts, the Arcanist gave the Master a kiss on
the cheek before departing. She had everything she needed, now she simply needed
to know when the best moment for the reveal would be, and ensure the Master was
there to aid her.

On the morning of the first day of the festival, the Queen's potion was ready. A
whole cauldron had been prepared, but she required only a small vial.

The Grand Feast would take place on the last day of the festival, which gave the
Queen the time to dwell on how she would execute her plan. Fortunately for her,
the Queen, as a Hag, did not rely on sleight-of-hand to dispense the vial. She
had a few choices of spells to disguise that action.

The Queen invested the majority of her time in planning the feast, and so was
not sighted as often as expected. This sowed some discontent among the
population, as the harvest festival was one of their few opportunities to be
near to the royalty they served.

The young King was not as bothered by the Queen's reluctance to join in the
celebrations, and made up for her absence by not only appearing at the festival,
but also in participating in a number of events, games, and purchasing from

The Queen's absence was frustrating for the Arcanist, who had expected the Hag
to make an appearance at least during some of initial harvest festival events,
including the Invitation Speech given by the King.

The Arcanist had met with the Master a few more times since their dinner. There
was a meeting scheduled the next day, in which the Master handed her the
reagents needed for her part in the spell. Everything was ready by the time of
the speech, but the Queen was not there.

They met that evening to discuss the Queen's absence. The Arcanist worried that
the Queen had somehow discovered that the Arcanist was on to her. However, the
Master took a different perspective, explaining that the Queen was often
reclusive. It was one of several reasons that he had so readily accepted the
Arcanist's revelation.

During the remainder of the festival two more times. Ultimately, it was decided
that the Grand Feast would afford them the best opportunity. The crowd gathered
would be at its highest count since the speech, and they had caught wind of the
Queen's part in planning the feast, which, as far as they were concerned,
was enough evidence that she would be there.

One of the keys to the plan required patience, however. To simply approach the
King and Queen at the beginning of the speech was not only rude, it could land
the Arcanist in jail. There was a chance the Master would have more luck, but
even he feared the wrath of the young King in his displeasure. The start of the
meal was HIS time, his opportunity to preside over the gathered and display his
gratiousness to the rest of the realm.

The plan, as it had been worked out, involved the Master approaching the King
some time after the sixth or eigth course, depending on the appearance of his
mood. The Master would be escorting the Arcanist on the pretenses of introducing
her. It was likely she would be received, simply due to her beauty alone, but
regardless of that, the introduction would provide them with the proximity they
needed in order to reveal the Hag's magic.

In that small window, they would have to be prepared to act.

End, Part 5.

Writer: Mathesan

Date Wed Feb 1 09:25:36 2017

To All Verminasia Immortal Storyline

Subject Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp

Verminasian Fairy Tales
The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp (VI)

The Grand Feast was going well, as it always did. The King had tasted the first
dishes of roast pork, candied carrots, and a hearty cream-and-beef stew. He was
beginning to grow rosy from the wine he was drinking. The Queen knew that her
moment was fast approaching, and the perfect opportunity presented itself as the
Master of the Tower approached the King.

While the attention of the table guests and servers was on the Master, who was
introducing the beautiful young Arcanist everyone had been talking about, the
Queen withdrew a vial from a hidden pocket in the sleeve of her dress and, using
minor illusion magic, masked the act of pouring the vial into the King's wine

The Arcanist asked to be allowed to speak, and the Queen, finished with her
task, turned her attention upon the young woman.

"The Master and I have a small, magical presentation we would like to show you,
your Highness." The Arcanist said, smiling in a way that maximized her beauty.
The Queen, a Hag, was incredibly jealous, but masked it behind a look of

"Indeed?" The young King replied, "But the Master had not told me of this."

However, instead of berating the Master, the King smiled broadly and stood,
placing an arm around the Master as though the two were close friends.

"The Master here saved my life when one of my enemies at court tried to poison
me," the King explained, "it was an alchemical poison, and so our healers were
befuddled, but he recognized it straight-away!"

The Master made modest recognition of the praise and the young King motioned for
the Arcanist to step forward.

The Arcanist did so and, together, with the Master, began to chant the
incantation for their spell. The Arcanist withdrew a censer from among her
things, and swung it so that incense began to waft from it. The incense had a
deep, smokey smell, but it was alluring as opposed to off-putting. Then the
incense disappeared and the Master withdrew a hand mirror and shattered it with
a piece of what appeared to be diamond.

With that, the spell was completed. Everyone but the King and Queen gasped. It
only took the King a mere moment to gasp himself, as he turned his attention
from the spellwork to his Queen, about to share some remark. But the woman
seated beside him was not his Queen, she was a Hag, the Hag from the swamp in

At this point, the Hag realized that everyone was looking at her, and they were
not gazing at her in adoration as she had become used to. There was revulsion,
fear, and even anger. She realized, when she looked down at herself, that her
magic had been broken, the spell was undone.

It was the King himself that ended the Hag. His sword at his side, as any brave
adventurer would have, the King used it to decapitate the Hag while she was still coming to the realization of her exposure and trying to figure out how
she should respond.

There were screams and other cries, but no one ran and no one abused the King.
Instead, after what had happened sunk in, there was thunderous applause. The
young King had vanquished yet another foe. A hero once more. He celebrated by
waving cheerfully and taking a long draught from his wine.

The Hag's magic was still potent, for it had been transferred into a physical
substance, and the King fell asleep almost immediately, the chalice dropping
from his hand as he slumped in his seat.

The Arcanist looked on in shock. She had intended to save the King, and thought
that she had, but now he lay before her as though dead, even though the Hag
was lying in two pieces beside him, very clearly dead.

End, Part 6.

Writer: Mathesan

Date Wed Feb 1 09:27:45 2017

To All Verminasia Immortal Storyline

Subject Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp

Verminasian Fairy Tales
The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp (VII)

Women wailed and children cried. The King's men immediately rushed to his seat
and shoved the Arcanist out of the way. It was the Master who finally realized,
through the panic, the danger in the moment and so he spoke boomingly to call
everyone to order.

With the leadership one might expect from someone of his standing, he had the
stewards organize an orderly exit for frightened guests, and was able to keep
the other guests in their seats. He then instructed the King's men to remove
the young King to his private chambers and, looking at the Arcanist, ordered
her to come along as well.

No one said a thing during the journey to the King's chambers, it was almost as
though it were a funeral procession.

Indeed, the men who bore the King were incredibly solemn and somber. After
placing the King on his bed, they stepped away, but gazed at the King as if
looking through them, hoping to find a way out of their loss.

"You know anatomy?" The Master asked of the Arcanist. She was taken aback by the
question, of the implicit trust that was behind it.

"Yes, some." She responded, though the Arcanist didn't feel as confident as her
reply suggested.

"I only need you to check for breathing and a pulse," the Master explained,
"while I cast a spell to detect what foul poison or dark magic is behind this

The Arcanist responded as bade and checked. The King's breaths were shallow and
uneven, and his pulse was raising, but that meant his heart was still clearly

As the Arcanist backed away and nodded, the Master released his spell and
gazed at the King for several silent moments, his eyes aglow. When, at last,
he came out of his self-induced trance, the Master appeared shaken and

"What's wrong?" The Arcanist asked.

"It is no ordinary poison, nor spell either. It is powerful, supernatural magic,
of which there is only one obvious conclusion as to the source."

The Arcanist looked to the headless Hag for a brief moment, and then back to
the Master.

"But you do not know what it is?" She asked.

"No, I do not," the Master replied.

The Arcanist turned to her studies, examining her memories for any mentions of
Hags. She was accutely aware of the stares on her, waiting for some response or
agreement with the Master, but she pushed those distractions away.

For magic which is not a spell,
Evil things can inside dwell.
Foulest of these comes to debate,
But among their ranks Hags are great.
They have mastered beyond nature,
And the spoiling of blood belongs to her.

"Hag blood," the Arcanist whispered.

"What?" Asked a befuddled Master.

"It's a potion made from Hag's blood. What counteracts Hag's blood?" The
Arcanist looked around wildly for support, but no one returned her gaze. It
took nearly a minute, during which the Arcanist tried once more to solve
it off of that singular fact, before the Master responded.

"Unicorn blood. He needs Unicorn blood."

End, Part 7.

Writer: Mathesan

Date Wed Feb 1 09:31:36 2017

To All Verminasia Immortal Storyline

Subject Verminasian Fairy Tales: The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp

Verminasian Fairy Tales
The Death Marshes:Witch of the Swamp (VIII)

Obtaining the unicorn blood is another tale All to its own. Not only did the
Arcanist have to brave the tricky wiles of the Enchanted Forest, she had to
act quickly. The Master was certain he could stall the poison for at least
another day or two, but unicorns weren't exactly running rampant.

The tale, though thrilling, deserves a telling of its own. Its importance
to this tale is that the Arcanist did obtain the blood, though at great cost.
When the King awoke from his nightmare slumber and heard of her deeds, he gave
her a title in the court.

A couple years later, and they were married.

This time the populace knew the Queen had magic, but the only enchantment the
King seemed to be under was the euphoric drug of love. The Arcanist made a
fine Queen: intelligent, quick of wit, and charming.

The Hag's head was mounted on a spike outside the city's walls, and a Hag has
not been seen in the Marshes since.


Except Mathesan knew that wasn't the case.

In his previous visit to the Death Marshes, Mathesan had read the tale, but was
skeptical of the claim. What followed was a three-day hunt for information from the scattered and lonely hamlets that existed in the gloomy marsh land.

From that information, he concluded that it was more likely than not that there
were several active Hags in the marsh. And, while witness accounts were always
susceptible to superstition and bias, he had obtained some definitive pieces of
information that something was there.

The Death Marshes were not entirely marshes. As the land headed south, it
developed into various swamps, separated by true forests on dry ground. The
swamps carried over into Markon and Atstlomme, but were primarily located in
the Death Marshes.

In the swamp, the best way to survive was to hunt rather than gather. There
were plants they could eat, mostly seeds, but the majority of their meals came
from fishing and hunting the wild life in the area. One young hunter reported a
fascinating story to Mathesan.

He had been nearly at the end of his day with a good hawl of kills. While trying
to round out his haul with some fish, he said he heard a sweet voice, but when
he turned around everything went black. When the man came-to, his bag of kills
was gone and he fault drained and exhausted, All of which were distinguishing
symptoms of a Hag attack. The only odd piece was that the Hag didn't bring him
back to her lair to eat him. That suggested that the Hag had plenty of fresh
meat to satisfy her. That theory was supported quickly by the unusually high
number of disappearances in the area when compared to the rest of the kingdom.

There was a Hag in the Death Marshes, likely more than one, and he intended to
capture one for the Winter Ball. It was a crazy idea, Hag's were very powerful,
supernatural creatures. Yet it appealed to Mathesan's ego. He could provide the
ultimate Ball decoration and showcase his mastery of magic at the same time.

It wouldn't be easy, but he was confident. The Hag Hunt was on.

End. Thanks for reading, keep an eye out for my next series: The Hag Hunt

Writer: Erebaal

Date Wed Feb 1 23:58:48 2017

To All Chaos ( Scorn Immortal Storyline Malachive )

Subject Journey

The cart jostled heavily on the road to Arkane. Decades of hard use had
ensured that no measure of smoothing the packed earth would ever make the
ride a smooth one. The wooden vehicle bounced and wobbled and bucked at
times, threatening to upset the barrels and cargo strewn in its belly, but
there was no force on Algoron as could dislodge the rider seated upon the
sole bale of straw tucked behind the driver's perch, the ebon-clad warrior
who traveled in near-silence.

The driver glanced over his shoulder now and then, feeling the faintest
twinge of unease at the nature of his passenger. Riders looking for passage
from the Port were not uncommon. All sorts came in from the other
continents, from swarthy Thalosian travelers, to the stout dwarves of
Thaxanos, to the tartan-clad highlanders, and once (he swore up and down) he
saw a pale-faced lady dressed in black and crimson step into a covered
carriage just before dawn broke, bearing the crest of Abaddon's nobility.
The man who rode with him, though, was none of these. He did not come from
any of the ships, near as he could tell, but approached from the north, from
the outskirts of the Port. He offered little by way of explanation for his
presence, and when prompted for his name merely produced three more gold
coins and dropped them into the farmer's palm. He had asked for passage to
Fort Ironclad, which had raised a guffaw from the farmer. 'Friend, not many
folks willin' to make the trip that far out of the way. Not much money to
it. Supplies run from the traders south of the city to them, across the
mountains. Best I can do is get you there, 'fore I have to make my way back
here for the next haul. Lucky as you are, I couldn't sell All the hay this
time 'round. Got yourself a bench for your trip. Reckon it's better'n
tryin' to stand or tame the seed-barrels.

The man had gazed at him from beneath a tattered, cowled cloak, the grimy
fabric greyed with exposure to the elements. In that stare had been
something... Feral, almost, quickly dimmed as the man grunted and nodded,
climbing onto his cart without another word. He had pulled the gate up
after him, an impressive feat given his angle and the thing's weight, and
the farmer had no choice but to accept his strange passenger, for the coin
was paid and the journey set.

The minutes dragged out, with only the jostling and the rattle of the cart
and its cargo to break the silence. There had been no sign of any sort of
sociability from his passenger, but his mere presence stifled his urge to
whistle, as he did on his weekly journey from the Port. There was an
ominous sort of dread that he could not shake off, something that bled the
hope around him. A faint feeling of regret was scratching at his brain, the
weight of the gold in his purse seeming All too heavy now, and yet not
nearly heavy enough for the sort of man he was transporting.

Somewhere into the second hour, with no sign of Arkane on the horizon, he
finally spoke, 'So ah.. Fella. Whatcha got in Ironclad waitin' for ya?
Don't seem like the marryin' type, so I figure it's not a woman. Lookin' to
earn some coin? Get some of that glory as everyone's lookin' for?
' His
words fell dead in the air for a moment. It was like talking to a statue,
almost, but for that nameless dread that never fully dissipated. At length,
the huge warrior in back spoke, his voice slightly dry from disuse, 'There
is no glory to be found in battle that I desire. It is the battle itself
that I want.

The farmer's brow furrowed. It was a strange sort of answer, articulate and
yet meaningless to him, 'Come now, fella. I used to serve in the Arkanian
Guard, 'fore... Well.. I can tell when a lad's not bein' entirely
forthright with me. You want a fight for the sake of one? Sure you're not
looking for those killers to the east, not the south? Ironclad's got rules.
Got laws. Got orders to follow.

Writer: Erebaal

Date Thu Feb 2 00:38:40 2017

To All Chaos ( Scorn Immortal Storyline Malachive )

Subject Journey II

The warrior grunted again and shifted his weight, the gentle thud of his
warhammer against the inner wall of the cart sounding, 'A Fort in disuse, in
disrepair. Without a leader, without an enemy. There is no battle to be
had there, yet. I would give them one.

The farmer shifted in turn, his discomfort not merely physical at the edge
of menace that laced the words. As before, they were steeped in ambiguity,
and something about them raised the hairs on the back of his neck, 'Aye,
they've had need of a good, strong hand at their backs, to push 'em forward
to their glory days. It's been tried before, time and again. If not
someone stealin' the name of Highlord and trying some harebrained scheme,
then someone with dreams bigger'n their means and just makin' the hole
they've been digging All the deeper. Think you can.. Think you've got what
it takes?

The warrior said nothing, once more, and the silence fell heavily. Another
hard bump in the road jostled the cart once more, knocking the hammer
against the cart's frame again. The farmer glanced over his shoulder at his
passenger, 'I can tell you've the arm for it, if nothin' else. Told you
already, but I was a guardsman in the Arkanian Watch. Damned fine one, if I
might say so. Lads said I might've stood a chance at knocking Lord
Firebeard on his arse if he'd ever come to join us on his rounds as General.
Shame I never got to try.

This, at last, merited response, 'A man of the watch, strong of arm. And
yet here you sit, a shepherd of cattle, rather than men.
' Another jostle,
another thud of the hammer, and by the farmer's reckoning, another hour's
journey to be in sight of the Arkanian capitol, 'Aye. I quit after the
Plague swept in. Took my youngest just before it took my wife. It were..
' the farmer lapsed into silence, his eyes fixed on the back of the horses
that drew his cart, 'We needed All hands in the city to keep order. They
were callin' it the "Deathsong". I dunno where you come from or if you
dealt with its like, but it was almost chaos here. Needed every man to
spare to keep the crowds from rioting, and every healer to keep the men
clean before it could get out of control.

The man did not shy from the implications, his low voice growling without
accusation, but with the surety of a judge delivering a sentence, 'You were
not there when they died.

The farmer blinked, the cloudy day suddenly becoming watery in his
perception, 'Aye... I came home from almost three days with but a moment's
rest in the barracks to find my oldest son cradling his brother, festerin'
with the plague sores. His mother was breathin' her last... Made me take
him to the city proper, to one of the Watch's healers. It was too late for
her, but I managed to save one of my boys.

The silence returned, but the dread abated some, fresh misery welling up
from old wounds that the farmer had though well-covered. It took some
minutes again before he trusted himself to speak evenly, 'He took my place
in the guard. Does good work. Honest work. Never been proud of 'im, but
he's haunted. Can see it in him, sure as I know he sees it in me. The man
who did this isn't any sort of man at all. No man lets a plague run wild.
No man stands to gain from it, 'less he just likes to see people suffer and
die for no reason. Less he stands for that lack of reason, and a man who
stands for nothing's no better'n an animal.

The warrior grunted, whether in affirmation or thought, the farmer could not
tell, 'Grngh. It is the sort of foe that would give the Fort life again, an
enemy to rouse the beast. A battle without glory, but glorious in itself.
' The farmer glanced at his passenger once more, the lines of his brow
deepening, 'Is that what you want, then? To lead that fight? I ought to
give you a share of the coin back, then, if you'd swear to give my wife and
son peace.

Writer: Erebaal

Date Thu Feb 2 01:11:32 2017

To All Chaos ( Scorn Immortal Storyline Malachive )

Subject Journey III

The warrior shook his cowled head slowly, causing some of his greyed hair
to spill out over his shoulders, 'What is paid is fairly earned. I but
require my way closer to where I must be if I am to find this gloryless,
glorious battle.

The farmer persisted, even as the outline of the tallest towers of Arkane
appeared in the distance, 'A coin back, then, for one thing, fella. I wanna
know the name of the man who's bringing some sort of great destiny to the
Marauders. You've got something about you, sure as anything. I don't think
you've got wishes bigger'n your means, and you've got a fighter's build, a
fighter's heart. If anyone's gonna give anything to them, it's you, so I
wanna know. Who am I going to be hearing about in a few months when the new
Highlord's crowned?

It was the warrior's turn to glance, now, his head turning to gaze from
beneath his cloak at his driver, 'The coin means nothing, but if it is a
name you want, it shall be a simple one, for I have no need of more. I gave
up All the rest in my journeys in this world to see the horrors and the
glories of its battles and war, until All that was left to me was the name

The warrior fell silent once again, and the farmer obliged him, lost in his
own thoughts as the city drew close. His attempt to steer southward to give
him a little more time to pry faltered, as the extended path afforded him no
time to truly voice his thoughts, his concerns, his questions, though it
brought his passenger, this Kor, closer to his goal. All too soon, and yet
not soon enough, the south gate loomed, and he called his horses to a halt
near the stables, 'This is as far as I can take you, Kor. I hope you've got
a ways south, less you fancy climbing the mountain paths on your own. Some
of the fellas at the trading post bit farther down the road might be able to
help ya, if you've got more than what you just paid me with. Just... When
you get there, when you've given those men what you want,
' the wording fell
from his lips without thought, an instinctual understanding of the
difference that his passenger had implied, 'You make sure those Chaos fellas
suffer proper. Too many've lost friend and kin to their kind of nothing,
and it's time they went back to it, too.

The warrior stood and lowered the rear gate on the cart himself, stepping
down without assistance. Even from the ground, he barely had to crane his
neck to gaze at the farmer, seated on his perch, 'We'll All find our way
there, but the weakest of them will be culled in the battle to come. I can
promise you this, but no more. There is much to be done.
' There was a
pause, as though something else remained to be said, but after a moment, the
reluctance passed, and the warrior, Kor, turned away without another word,
making his way down the road.

The farmer watched him leave, doubt, dread, fear, and irrational hope
warring in his heart. Only the vaguest suspicions surrounded this Kor, but
he knew it in his gut, the gut that never led him wrong in the guard, that
the man he looked at, who strode toward the Fort beyond the mountains, was
carrying a destiny bigger than his humble lot. He bore something massive,
something burdensome, that was befitting a leader. He could rally the men
of Ironclad, of that there was no doubt.

He simply had to pray against his doubts that Kor would not destroy them

Writer: Tyrinx

Date Thu Feb 2 01:15:20 2017

Writer: Vahriah

Date Fri Feb 3 20:30:19 2017

Writer: Anathaelynn

Date Sat Feb 4 23:11:13 2017

Writer: Uruvion

Date Sun Feb 5 23:32:24 2017

Writer: Wrenpip

Date Mon Feb 6 12:32:45 2017

Writer: Kulek

Date Mon Feb 6 13:52:42 2017

To All Chaos ( Scorn Immortal Storyline Malachive )

Subject Weather's Reckoning

Kulek sits before the horned tree in a meditative posture. Focusing his
attention away from the dripping blood and to his thoughts)

I've stared at this tree. The last remnant of Malachives mortal form. Was
it really Malachive as [51] Erebaal claimed, or has the Warp made him insane?
It matters not. The end result will be the same. Total genocide of the so
called gods.

Kulek's focus returned to the tree of blood. Thoughts flittered across the abyssal
tranquility of his mind, intermingled with flashes of intense pain from the never
healing burn wounds and scars. He inwardly smiled at the persistant reminder of
his mission, and burnt offering. Relishing in the pain a moment, he refocused his

Thum.... Kulek's ears swivelled to find the source. Braeden cutting gems,
footfalls of armor on stone, hammer on anvil. No sound out of the ordinary.

Thrum.. thruum... Hrm, that is not a sound. He thought to himself. Such
"sounds" and "feelings" were not at All unusual within the Warp, but something
was different, yet vaguely familiar. Kulek inserted ear plugs, and pulled down his
helmet to isolate as much external stimuli as possible and waited.

ThruMMM.. It was louder this time, and what was left of the hair on his body
tingled and attempted to stand on end through his armor and clothing. There was a
familiarity to the sensation, as if his own blood recognized the sound, if it
could be called that, somehow. I have felt this before... During the strange
storms in the Northern seas, but it was much fainter.

THruuuuMMM... Something is a foot on the Northern continent that is important.
Kulek began replacing his thin underpadding with a heavier, fur lined cold weather
gear. Our mission is too important to let this slide.

Walking over to the portal room he entered Ice Wall.

Writer: Horun'dir

Date Tue Feb 7 08:29:38 2017

Writer: Teimhnean

Date Tue Feb 7 10:38:24 2017

Writer: Teimhnean

Date Tue Feb 7 10:41:01 2017

Writer: Teimhnean

Date Tue Feb 7 10:42:55 2017

Writer: Lymdol

Date Tue Feb 7 17:37:29 2017

Writer: Rasavadi

Date Tue Feb 7 22:42:26 2017

Writer: Thzad

Date Wed Feb 8 00:45:36 2017

To All IMM Raije Cliath

Subject Upon Icewall

Laden with heavy furs over his chainmail the Thane walked along ah narrow
cliff, searching for the door of a cave. When he found it and inspected the
dead embers of a campfire he proceeded deeper into the cave. Growing up in
the mines of Thaxnos Mountain the depths bothered him not at all.
Meandering about the cave and finding nothing the Thane cast a spell of
teleportation and found himself in another, darker cave.

The Thane stuck his whetstone against his axe and lit his pipe, and with the
keen eyes of a dwarf in the dark he found a path to the North.

The funny thing about walking into a room with a massive white dragon is the
dragon is not happy to see you. Not being completely suicidal the Thane
muttered a foul oath and ran like hell. The dragon, being generally upset
by a dwarf stumbling into his lair, swinging axes at his assualt and then
cursing him out before running away, caved the roof in and buried the
dwarven Thane in an avalanche of snow.

Slowly, using his axe as a shovel, Thzad found a way out from underneath a
mountain of snow and ice. Calling upon the magic of the Gods Thzad passed
through a gate to Nordmaar, where the Taverns knew him and he held tabs that
were always paid upon the new moon. Sitting in a corner where he could see
the room the Thane had a bite to eat and a tankard of Nordish Mead, the good
stuff, while he kept muttering to himself about what he would do with
Cliath's Hammer.

Writer: Uruvion

Date Wed Feb 8 12:11:10 2017

Writer: Cassian

Date Wed Feb 8 13:52:07 2017

Writer: Pharis

Date Wed Feb 8 18:26:56 2017

Writer: Cassian

Date Thu Feb 9 12:46:05 2017

Writer: Cassian

Date Thu Feb 9 13:01:18 2017

Writer: Shuge

Date Fri Feb 10 16:57:04 2017

Writer: Eadaoin

Date Sun Feb 12 06:56:18 2017

Writer: Eadaoin

Date Sun Feb 12 07:01:05 2017

Writer: Eadaoin

Date Sun Feb 12 07:05:52 2017

Writer: Eadaoin

Date Sun Feb 12 08:29:06 2017

Writer: Eadaoin

Date Sun Feb 12 08:33:23 2017

Writer: Eadaoin

Date Sun Feb 12 09:11:55 2017

Writer: Eadaoin
Date Sun Feb 12 09:35:33 2017

Writer: Hrentun
Date Sun Feb 12 11:34:59 2017

To All Cahlizna Ganth Mencius

Subject Something Wicked This Way Comes.

Hrentun stood on the eastern bulwark of Ganth's mighty walls. Standing
far above the ground, the wind whipped around tugging at his layers of heavy
clerical robes. Despite the elements, however he surveyed his surroundings
stoically. A short distance to the east, he watched his temple being
constructed. His altar was fully inclosed now and he watched as a steady
stream of travelers from the main road to Ganth stopped in to pay their

Further south of the temple, about a league away, his faith was warmed by
the dull glow of his army. He had recruited two new converts to steward the
armies conversion from a mass of well-meaning faithful to an organized force
of zealotry. Benthic and Kahlyn concerned him. They were converts, if
their spirit was true there is a nobility in choosing one's devotion
deliberately. He could grow to respect that. So far however, their path
had been full of fitfull starts and stops.

He then turned to north, away from his life's work and All he was building.
Great skypiercing mountains loomed to the north their peaks obscured by
cloud cover. It was a harsh land, one that had forced it's people to be
strong and attentive to its changes. An unease blew in on the wind. The
business of the Yinn invading Nordmaar was fresh in his mind. The roar of
the wind brought with it its own type of quiet -- once it faded to
background, there was nothing else to hear. He let his mind wander a
moment, wondering what other secrets this hard land held in store for them.
He let his mind wander a moment, but only a moment. He turned back to his
fiefdom confident that whatever was coming, he would be ready.

Writer: Eadaoin
Date Sun Feb 12 11:44:16 2017

Writer: Eadaoin
Date Sun Feb 12 11:49:37 2017

Writer: Iocaste
Date Sun Feb 12 13:21:02 2017

Writer: Iocaste
Date Sun Feb 12 13:21:09 2017

Writer: Galvanite
Date Mon Feb 13 06:36:22 2017

Writer: Eadaoin
Date Mon Feb 13 13:41:53 2017

Writer: Mercerion
Date Mon Feb 13 17:51:05 2017

To All Nadrik Immortal Religion Storyline Devion ( Temple Cleansing Knighthood )

Subject Deceiver's Abode ( Devion Temple Cleansing Storyline )

A wretched wickedness filled the air around the gathering of Knights as
they stepped into the temple belonging to Devion. For far too long had this
temple stood as a blight to the surrounding forest and grounds, and the
Knights had come to cleanse said blight. Izsak and Mercerion both stood
guard at the entrance of the temple as Aliera bless small orbs of light and
began scattering them to lift the lighting in this unnaturally dark place.
The lighting lifted slightly, but only just barely noticeable. The three
Nadrik worshipping Knights began to pray as Aliera began blessing sacred
salts and holy water, as well as cloth for which to cleanse the wickedness
from the temple.

As they prayed and blessed items within the temple, to their eyes the
lighting began to grow still more. Aliera took a blessed cloth and drew it
across the stones, and almost immediately the stones that came into contact
with the blessed cloth began to clear from darkness and grime. The Knights
perceiving that their efforts were beginning to cleanse the wickedness from
the very stones of the temple began to work in earnest. Mercerion was too
focused to notice the distraction of his squire as he worked fervently, more
and more stones appearing cleansed, and the lighting raising within the

It was gruelling work, and every time he slowed to catch his breath, it
would seem the darkness would begin to seep in once again. Exausted... His
limbs were beginning to scream in agony... Or was that his squire?
Mercerion looked over at Izsak to see him stumble, and a wretched wound
appear on his cheek. It appears some amorphous shadow had attacked Izsak.
Izsak had given some cry of his family's weakness, and drawn holy blades
against the shadow, which seemed to receed. A smile played on Mercerion's
features as he exchanged a tired not with his Squire and began cleansing yet
more tainted stones.

Just as the Knights had appeared to push back the darkness sufficiently to
begin dealing with the statue, a wicked mocking laugh rang out through the

Imagine that... A bunch of Knights, washing my temple. Who would have

A righteous anger came forth from Aliera as she challenged the voice in the
name of Nadrik.

Then fight us, Deceiver! Your taint will be cleased from these lands!

Another mocking laugh filled the temple.

"I don't believe this temple has ever looked so clean. That being said,
your presence is no longer required... Or Tolerated

The statue moved with a sudden creak, and struck Aliera, sending her across
the temple and into a wall. The Knights present gathered round their struck
priestess just as she rose to her feet and swung a mighty hammer at the
statue. Devion's statue stopped the strike and blasted Aliera with unholy
energy, before drawing the breathable air from the temple.

Mercerion acted quickly, willing his body not to attempt to breathe as he
gathered the dazed Knights and their effects, dragging them out of the
temple to lick their wounds. They were battered and perhaps temporarily
beaten, but far from defeated. They would heal, and come for this temple
once again.

Its taint would not be allowed to endure.

Writer: Benthic

Date Mon Feb 13 18:24:59 2017

To All Zola ( IMM Taliena Mencius RP )

Subject Anger

As Zola leaves, he walks over and pulls the fully sunken blade from the
wall. He sits down, against the wall, and stares at his palm and forearm.

He takes to the mark Taliena once gave him, his palm. Slicing the mark
cleanly and tossing the skin aside. He move next to the blue lotus hidden
under his gloves, with some carving he removes that too.

Ridden from his past, in pain, he smiles. "Good riddance storyn post

Writer: Eadaoin
Date Tue Feb 14 09:26:19 2017

Writer: Eadaoin
Date Tue Feb 14 09:28:10 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Tue Feb 14 09:45:12 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Tue Feb 14 09:46:54 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Tue Feb 14 09:49:31 2017

Writer: Eadaoin
Date Tue Feb 14 10:17:23 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Tue Feb 14 10:30:37 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Tue Feb 14 10:32:33 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Tue Feb 14 10:34:23 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Tue Feb 14 10:36:45 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Tue Feb 14 10:39:02 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Tue Feb 14 10:43:16 2017

Writer: Eadaoin
Date Tue Feb 14 11:30:18 2017

Writer: Eadaoin
Date Tue Feb 14 12:22:44 2017

Writer: Uruvion
Date Tue Feb 14 13:35:46 2017

To Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Nymileszta All ( Storyline Imm RP Religion Zandreya )

Subject Warmed Over

Every step, every breath, blink, cough, even thought hurt. He wasn't
sure if anyone ever had the pleasure of having their body used by another
being, presence, in his case, a very angry and revenge seeking demon.

It started with Noami, Kohu, Dra'toth, and himself traveling the mountains
in Icewall to the fallen Turpa's open air temple. It was very out of the
way from the Vallens and spacious for what they were going to do. The
crystal pendant was the key, a link, the alarm for them to go and perform
the ritual of summoning the being that had cursed Uruvion for a while.

Salt and holy water that were blessed by Anathaelynn were going to be used
to imprison the demon. A couple stakes were given to Noami from the
Eldritch for good measure.

Noami, with Kohu and Dra'toth at her side flipped through an old dusty tome
then made a circle of salt on the temple's snow covered floor. She
instructed the inflicted elf to take draw blood and did so as instructed,
cutting a line in the palm of his left hand with the point of the crystal
pendant. Crimson life spilled into the middle of the circle and Uruvion
stepped out as the pendant that held the essence of the demon began to float
above the pool of blood. A link of blood and pendant were made and the air
crackled with an ominous energy then a rift tore in the circle, a pair of
red eyes glowing peering through it at the elves gathered.

In a moment, the time for one to blink it seemed, Uruvion was in pain he
could only think worse than any tortured soul in hell could endure. He saw
in flashes his body being consumed, morphing into something else, then
attacking his mates, and the one he called a dear friend. He saw Noami and
Kohu recite spells of acid, and then the blow to his chest, one of the
stakes given to her piercing the flesh of his chest and finding it's mark,
the heart.

He woke up, coughing, his body on fire, not the fire he had grown accustomed
to, but something of evil that one should never feel, something reserved for
those who deserved to be tormented. He saw a figure, an elf, but twisted,
screaming about getting it's revenge and before he could muster strength, it
had vanished from the temple and a wolf of the purest evil, taller than most
ogres of giant proportions blocked the path of the party that came to the

The old Sage from the library was there and told them to leave as he would
hold off the dread-wolf. The elves heard a name, Eberoth Sha'katas. The
surname caught the Eldritch's attention and he knew Noami knew. They made
their way back home through the magics of their gods and goddess to dress
wounds and get their minds wrapped around what had happened.

Instead of heading to the Fray's hall, the man who had been cursed by this
affliction of evil drug himself to the garden dedicated to Zandreya, a form
entered and before he could say much, collapsed.

Writer: Uruvion
Date Tue Feb 14 13:54:44 2017

To Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Nymileszta All ( Storyline Imm RP Religion Zandreya )

Subject Warmed Over II

He woke up, his body not on fire but sore, he felt like he had been
trampled by a herd of mountains. His duster and tunic were soaked and
smelled of blood, and in some point before passing out he managed to dress
his wounds. Noami had asked him how he felt, and he asked how she was
doing. Information was exchanged, and a wave of guilt came over him. He
vaguely remembered attacking her, but he did none the less, even if it
wasn't him to speak. She expressed the deepest sadness, telling him she
killed him, saw his last breath escape past his lips, but Kohu and her
brought him back, back from death.

Nymileszta was in the garden, watching over him, the Pulse of the Kyorl,
Vahriah offered what comfort he could give. Thoughts rushed through his
pounding skull. Elves were alive, the young steel was safe, and that damned
demon was loose.

His steel gray eyes glanced at his right arm, a nice little reminder of the
ordeal he had been through was left for him. The skin was pale, a stark
contrast to the complexion of the rest, and the marking was there. It was
cool the touch, not like the other limbs, but as if the blood in his body
gave little attention to that one. And that fire, the pins and needles
feeling from sleeping on it, but magnified by a few hundred times.

He exchanged some soft and tired words with the Bladesinger and Steel then
told them he needed to go the hall. He lived through one curse, was brought
back from the dead, and now the Vallens had a bigger problem than any dwarf.
The one with the name of Sha'katas was bent on ending All of them. They had
to find him, and it was time to let the others know.

Writer: Vahriah
Date Tue Feb 14 23:00:07 2017

Writer: Fardoc
Date Wed Feb 15 09:48:41 2017

To All Thaxanos Wargar Chaos Erebaal Staldrache Nadrik Religion Storyline Imm RP

Subject To Apprehend a Traitor - The Advance I

Foliage cracked and splintered against the scales of the enormous Steel
dragon as he hurdled over the treetops. He was flying low enough to brush
the peaks with his belly, and the dwarf perched on his back gripped his back
spikes tightly, struggling to maintain his balance.

The dwarven priest guided the dragon with gentle nudges to the large spike,
following the memorized route to the rendezvous point to join with Kraxul
and the Ironbreakers near Haven. The flight did not take long on
dragonback, and the small horde of armored dwarves were soon visible as a
speck inside a medium-sized clearing.

Swiftly making their way to the clearing, the dragon and dwarf circled
overhead, above the offloading Bearded Wench. The commander of the 1st
Ironbreakers, a stout mountain dwarf named Torlend Ramhorn, was busily
directing his men off the ship. Some were carrying large unmarked crates in
their arms, and Kraxul was gleefully ordering them from behind to set them
away from the main party down on the beach.

Fardoc muttered something to himself about bloody bootlegging before he
secured the attention of Torlend, giving him several prearranged hand
signals to begin the advance immediately. The sun would rise within
moments, and the regiment needed to be well on their way to the tunnels by
the time it lit the jungle, or risk being seen too soon by the Warps scouts.

Torlend hurriedly issued the commands, and the disciplined Ironbreakers
assumed their positions in a marching formation, setting off at a brisk pace
into the jungle. Fardoc and Staldrache rose higher in the sky after the
advance was confirmed, bathing the clearing in a wash of dust and light
debris as the wind from the dragons wing gusted around. They required a
better view of the path ahead and the surrounding area, and ascended to
cloud cover as quickly as the dragon was able in order to disguise their
presence to any Warp scouts watching the dawn sky.

Circling overhead, the path to the Slussi tunnels seems clear, save for the
occasional beast in the jungle, glutting itself over the nights kill. The
sight brought Fardoc hope that the scouting mission had maintained the
element of surprise, and he prayed to Lord Nadrik fervently that the luck of
the early morning hours would hold as the Ironbreakers approached.

Writer: Fardoc
Date Wed Feb 15 11:33:41 2017

To All Thaxanos Wargar Chaos Erebaal Staldrache Nadrik Religion Storyline Imm RP

Subject To Apprehend a Traitor - The Advance II

Circling at a much slower pace than at their mad dash to the rendezvous
point, Staldrache and Fardoc kept a watchful eye on the horizon. Morning
mist rose through the branches of the trees, and the sounds of the jungle
waking for the day were audible even from far above in the clouds.

Peering behind, the priest eyed the Ironbreakers making their way through
the thick foliage, their brisk march hampered slightly by the jungle. They
kept to the higher ground, not wishing to venture into the lower valleys
where the brush was thickest. With another gentle nudge, the dwarf guided
the Steel back around in another circle, further out to scout the land

This pass brought them close to the outer reaches of the monastery. Large
reptilian creatures littered the courtyard, but they did not seem hostile,
at least from the elevated distance. Within minutes, the Ironbreakers made
it to the monastery courtyard themselves, marching through the ruined temple
as quietly as their thick armor would allow.

From far above, the Ironbreakers seemed safe enough, and there was no sign
of trouble yet from the surrounding jungle. Fardoc saw the dwarf in the
front of the formation, presumably Torlend Ramhorn, motion to several
Ironbreakers and they began to unsling picks, shovels, and various other
mining and digging implements from large packs. The dwarves set to work in
one of the alcoves of the monastery, abandoning subterfuge and relying on
the speed of their excavation. Rapidly, stone and dirt began to pile around
the sides of their hole, and with a crack, the ground gave way, and several
dwarves tumbled the short distance to the tunnel below. The remaining
dwarves leapt down in pairs at the urging of Torlend, the first pair helping
up the ones who had fallen through in the collapse.

Torlend was the final dwarf down, staying on the surface until the last
Ironbreaker had made it into the tunnel safely, and that there were no
stragglers. He waved up towards the clouds, motioning the All clear signal
to Fardoc and Staldrache, before leaping himself down into the narrow tunnel
where the Ironbreakers were so at home.

Fardoc gripped the back spike in front of him tightly, praying fervently to
Lord Nadrik with All his heart for the safety of his men. Nudging the
dragon into a large circle around the monastery, the Steel and priest began
their patrol of the area, paying close attention for any irregularities that
would signal a retaliatory response from the Warps army.

Writer: Cassian
Date Thu Feb 16 14:51:22 2017

Writer: Malingrin
Date Fri Feb 17 09:28:06 2017

To All Dragoth Religion RP Imm

Subject He came this way, part I

He came this way.
He walked these streets and trod upon this ground. This ground right here.
Then, something happened ...
He was a maggot. Just like Malingrin.
A servant of Dragoth. Just like Malingrin.
He grew to be worthy of the title Priest. Malingrin aspires to this too.
His name was Gryko.
Gryko was, in life, a humble Priest of Dragoth, the God of Disease and Decay.
He was possessed by a zeal that made him drive forth the will of Dragoth,
destroying, infecting, decaying All that he was able to in service to his master.
How did it happen that he rebelled, that he refused his destiny as a Maggot
of Dragoth, that he created Life where there had been no Life, that he continued
to exist beyond the grave, that he gained power enough to shake the world?
A maggot of Dragoth.
A maggot just like Malingrin.

Writer: Anathaelynn
Date Fri Feb 17 11:00:57 2017

Writer: Goldar
Date Fri Feb 17 18:20:02 2017

Writer: Malingrin
Date Sat Feb 18 15:31:52 2017

To All Vershae Dragoth Religion RP Imm

Subject He came this way, part II

For several days, Malingrin trod the paths up and down and around the Mountain
of Darkonin. Finally, his patience was rewarded. He stumbled upon no other
than Darkonin's Supreme General Vershae Khamaseen, a mighty and powerful Ogre
who held the keys to the Kingdom.

He tried his best to impress this great presence. Malingrin drew upon what little
he knew of old old tales of Dolund'ir history, drew upon the few scraps of dirty
limericks found scribbled on the walls deep in the sewers of the City of Arkane,
groveled before the immense Ogrelord. Somehow, it worked. The Supreme General
agreed to make Malingrin a full citizen of the Kingdom of Darkonin. Oh joyous day!

Except ...

Except that Vershae objected to Malingrin's groveling in the dust before him.
"Undignified?", thought Malingrin, "What does 'undignified' mean?"

He discovered that this word 'undignified' was not for maggots like Malingrin.

Writer: Nakiasha
Date Sat Feb 18 19:32:39 2017

Writer: Kaeira
Date Sat Feb 18 20:54:42 2017

Writer: Cassian
Date Sun Feb 19 03:24:04 2017

To All ( Imm )

Subject The Battle Rages On (1/2)

The heat was almost unbearable, the form of living fire rampaging in front
of him, towering higher than he could see in the throws of combat. Turning
about in panic, he was alone, none stood beside him. It was a desperate
move, but he throw down the flash bombs and manoeuvred his way about the
thing, attempting to thrust his spirit dagger into its back. It seemed like
his every move was striking the air, lashes of flame whipping back at him
to wound his body and spirit.

His body was itching from the heat, it felt like he needed to rip his hair
out to make it stop, to put an end to the singeing and burning smell filling
his nostrils and making him heave.

Fists and axes were flying this way and that, doing everything he could to
dodge and deflect them, but as each progressive hit landed his body was
breaking, falling apart, hitting wall after wall in the enclosed room. He
was trapped, the only way out was far behind the searing heat, and nothing
was working. Every blow was robbing him of oxygen, what little there was
surely burning away and running out from the being before him, his vision
starting to black out as shades of red filled what infrequent sights he had.
Sights of fire and blood.

One hand to the ground for support, he lifted his body up from the ground,
one final smoke bomb in his hand as he summoned the last of his energies to
throw it. As his arm reared back, pain shot along his arm, causing him to
cry out in pain, the device simply falling to the ground. Head raising, the
axe was coming back, as Cassian half rolled and half fell to the side in an
attempt to avoid it. A strange clinking noise, followed by a sharp hiss, as
the axe split open the device he'd just been holding. Smoke rapidly filled
the chamber, the giant howling and swinging his weapons with a fury unlike
any other he'd known.

As best as his legs could carry him, he took the chance to run, a gutteral
scream flowing out from deep within him as he brought up every feeling of
anger and desperation he could, every hint of inspiration he'd ever felt,
everything and everyone he'd ever loved and hoped to see again after this
was All over.

The end was in sight, the passage far too small for the giant to enter,
surely. He dived in, taking a chance at filling his lungs with air, before
clambering on on hands and knees as the giant's magics threatened to burn
away the very ground beneath him.

Writer: Cassian

Date Sun Feb 19 03:24:53 2017

To All ( Imm )

Subject The Battle Rages On (2/2)

No doubt about it, the heat was dying out, a cool breeze hitting his face as
he came out the other end of the tunnel. He panted desperately, spitting
out the ash and blood that was filling his mouth, taking his moment.

Pushing to his feet at last, the young man opened his eyes to look out at
the scene before him. The snow was falling down around him, but the city
before him was absent of it entirely. Where the white banks had once sat
side-by-side with Nordmaar's buildings, huge fires raised, buildings
crumbling and cries filling the air. All hope he had felt turned into a
sickness, a gut-wrenching horror as he looked on in shock. His legs began
to move, picking up pace as he ran as best as his body could manage toward
his people, needing to help them, needing to save them.

Before he felt it, before he heard it, he saw the city moving away. The
distance growing faster than he'd ever moved before, faster than he could
run. His legs were moving, but his feet were hitting nothing, the ground
had disappeared. Then the pain, he felt his body limping, something
dripping down his body, the heat again rising as he started to scream.

The tooth was lodged in his body, impaled upon it, sandwiched between the
others, as his form was carried into the air within the dragon's maw.
Around and around they circled, the beast showing him the fate of All those
he had fought so long and so hard to protect, keeping him alive just enough
to rob him of his spirit.

Far beneath them, he could just about make out one lone figure, a man clad
in platemail, the once bright steel of his breastplate now replaced with
blood and soot. He looked up at Cassian and the dragon, polearm raised in
anger, screaming at him.

'Yue were meant tae do this with mae, we were goin' tae change things!'

He knew it instantly, it was his brother, in both arms and blood. The man,
the king, he had lost sight of in his travels, he had failed to support in
his times of needs, failed to accomplish their joined mission with.

He continued to watch on as the figure beneath screamed, putting down beast
after beast as the creatures of darkness charged at him over and over again
until, eventually, he saw them overwhelm and surround him, the figure now
disappearing completely into shadow and screams.

What little breath he had left emptied from his body, a scream of despair
and terror and anger emanating from him as he reached for one of his many
sheathed daggers with his left hand, flailing it about in a bid to hit the
maw that had captured him. It was scratching, tickling maybe, unable to
pierce the thick scales of the beast. Unable to puncture, too short to dig
in to the flesh. It was hopeless, as the dragon released him, Cassian
turning to look up as he fell just in time to see the foul acid breath
chasing behind him.

His scream continued on, the darkness All around him slowly fading as the
moonlight streaming in the window started to illuminate his surroundings. A
cool touch on his side startled him, a refreshing touch to his otherwise
sweat-covered body. His own hand shot down to grab it, ready to defend
himself as the memory set in, as he recognised the touch and soft voice
behind him as the other arm reached around to pull him back.

'Shhh, it was just a dream.'

Writer: Cassian

Date Sun Feb 19 12:39:15 2017

To All ( Nordmaar Imm )

Subject Washing Away the Terrors

The flow from the waterfall fell down in a series of cascades before finally
crashing and breaking on his head and splashing into the lake below. It was
refreshing, the cool touch of the water coupled with the Tropican sunrise,
as he did his best to unwind from the night before. It was almost exactly
the same dream he'd been having for months, only with greater frequency now.
Be it the result of recent conversations, situations, or just a reflection
on his own inability to come to peace with things, was still unclear.

The skin on his side felt smooth. Rubbery, but smooth, as the tissue caught
and moved under the pressure of his fingertips. A heavy sigh followed as he
rolled his head back, having to expel the water from his mouth with each
breath that followed. It served as both a distraction and yet, a way of
working through his thoughts, as the rest of the world faded away into the

There were so many possible paths laid out before him, some of which he had
already embarked upon and knew, others that were shrouded and held host to
far more mysterious outcomes than the rest. Some of them had more obvious
end points than others, though how long it might take to reach those final
moments was far less clear to him. No matter what direction he was to take,
there would be those let down, angered, hurt, disappointed, any or All of
the above. There would be those that would disavow him, and those that
would welcome him. And where in All that did he factor, as an individual,
in pursuit of his own happiness and closure?

What was becoming more clear however was the need to do something, to shake
things up and bring about a change, or at least speed things up along their
current courses. A means of satisfying that itch, that need, the growl that
was once again being emit from deep within him.

Writer: Uruvion
Date Sun Feb 19 15:34:08 2017

To Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Nymileszta All ( Storyline Imm Rp Religion Zandreya )

Subject Books and Scars

The library was vast, enormous, and lined with scrolls and books that
were ancient to modern. It was evident Sage Thaeleron kept them All in
pristine conditions. Not a speck of dust on the shelves or covers of the

There were enormous sections dedicated to various subjects of study and
Uruvion was in a bit of a hurry to find the section on demonology, or at
least something close to it.

Noami had a book on rituals to summon demons but Uruvion wasn't sure if that
was it and hoped the readings he could find would help.

The elf found the shelf, not shelves as other books had to house them.
Something was better than nothing though. He pulled the the scrolls, tomes,
and even pamphlets off the shelf and headed back to the desk of the

Reading materials slammed on the desk top and the librarian looked over her
wire framed glasses with surprised question in her face. The eldritch
nodded, "All of them. " The librarian nodded and glanced quickly at the
pale arm that bore the marking of the past affliction. Uruvion sighed some,
"I'm fine. "

Truth was, he wasn't sure if he'd ever not feel the demon's presence, or not
see it's face. His body still ached, and his right arm, pale and marked
would always be a reminder, but he pushed through the pains.

Uruvion had some reading to do and more questions to ask.

Writer: Kagetora

Date Mon Feb 20 14:39:55 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Mon Feb 20 14:42:18 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Mon Feb 20 14:43:43 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Mon Feb 20 15:10:35 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Mon Feb 20 15:12:32 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Mon Feb 20 15:33:34 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Mon Feb 20 15:40:54 2017

Writer: Kagetora
Date Mon Feb 20 15:47:40 2017

Writer: Hrentun
Date Mon Feb 20 20:28:23 2017

Writer: Dontay
Date Mon Feb 20 23:14:34 2017

Writer: Aliera
Date Tue Feb 21 19:46:33 2017

Writer: Chulric
Date Wed Feb 22 10:26:00 2017

Writer: Cieran
Date Wed Feb 22 10:43:25 2017

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

To All Justice Imm RP

Subject Gorrakh's Demise

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To All Thaxanos Nordmaar ( Imm RP )

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

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

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

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

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

Eadaoin chuckled heartily, 'Aye. '

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

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

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

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

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

Eadaoin chuckled, ''ighland smite. '

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Eadaoin

Date Thu Feb 23 11:57:40 2017

To All Thaxanos Nordmaar ( Imm RP )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Eadaoin

Date Thu Feb 23 12:01:44 2017

To All Thaxanos Nordmaar ( Imm RP )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cassian grinned over to his sister from across the room.

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

(more to follow...)

Writer: Eadaoin

Date Thu Feb 23 12:32:49 2017

To All Thaxanos Nordmaar ( Imm RP )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Eadaoin

Date Thu Feb 23 12:59:12 2017

To All Thaxanos Nordmaar ( Imm RP )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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


Writer: Iscarianth

Date Thu Feb 23 15:07:07 2017

To All ( Storyline Imm Roleplay )

Subject A day's study ( Part 1 )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Writer: Iscarianth

Date Thu Feb 23 15:08:14 2017

To All ( Storyline Imm Roleplay )

Subject A day's study ( Part 2 )

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


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


Writer: Teimhnean

Date Thu Feb 23 18:43:28 2017

To All Nordmaar ( RP imm )

Subject Liberations: March of the Smallest Feet I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No loyalty.
No courage.
No victory.

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

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

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

Writer: Mezlak

Date Thu Feb 23 21:16:36 2017

To Marauders Milleuda All ( Raije Imm RP Religion Tashio )

Subject Hunting Traitors - Traitors at Home

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Thu Feb 23 21:57:14 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Thu Feb 23 21:58:06 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Thu Feb 23 21:59:08 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Thu Feb 23 22:20:11 2017

Writer: Hrentun

Date Fri Feb 24 09:27:19 2017

Writer: Nathalos

Date Fri Feb 24 09:35:12 2017

Writer: Kagetora

Date Fri Feb 24 12:07:48 2017

Writer: Kagetora

Date Fri Feb 24 12:15:25 2017

Writer: Kagetora

Date Fri Feb 24 12:20:40 2017

Writer: Nathalos

Date Fri Feb 24 17:32:48 2017

Writer: Nathalos

Date Fri Feb 24 19:53:56 2017

Writer: Fynix

Date Fri Feb 24 21:25:38 2017

To All Arkane Gypsies

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

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

Writer: Iscarianth

Date Fri Feb 24 22:45:03 2017

To All ( Storyline Imm Roleplay )

Subject Far away from home ( Part 1 )

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Ozleust

Date Sat Feb 25 12:01:29 2017

To All Conclave ( IMM RP Drakkara )

Subject The pursuit of the untamed Pt. 1

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

"I need to speak to you" - Musen

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

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

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

"What do you need?"

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

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

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

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

Not teleportation

Not material alteration

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

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

Writer: Aliera

Date Sat Feb 25 14:47:31 2017

Writer: Mercerion

Date Sat Feb 25 15:18:51 2017

Writer: Aliera

Date Sat Feb 25 15:20:09 2017

Writer: Musen

Date Sun Feb 26 19:52:32 2017

To All kyri admin conclave cahlizna zerani imm rp

Subject Capturing the Witch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Musen

Date Sun Feb 26 19:56:57 2017

To All kyri admin conclave cahlizna zerani imm rp

Subject The Witches Trial

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

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

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

Musen nodded "Then we will give her choices."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Musen

Date Sun Feb 26 20:31:52 2017

To All conclave kyri cahlizna zerani admin imm rp

Subject Powerful Banned Alterations

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Musen

Date Sun Feb 26 20:36:42 2017

To All conclave kyri admin imm rp cahlizna zerani

Subject The Alteration's True Form

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Musen

Date Sun Feb 26 21:00:13 2017

To All conclave admin imm kyri cahlizna zerani rp

Subject Powerful Magic Breeds Powerful Consequence

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

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

Back in the mind

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But when he spoke the words, nothing happened.

Writer: Musen

Date Sun Feb 26 21:53:52 2017

To All conclave kyri admin imm rp Cahlizna Zerani

Subject A Fateful Encounter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ozleust snickered "You're spoiled. "

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

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

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

Writer: Xiaos

Date Sun Feb 26 22:26:13 2017

To All Conclave Imm Rp

Subject A new path begins (I)

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

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

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

(to be continued)

Writer: Teimhnean

Date Mon Feb 27 10:05:42 2017

To All Nordmaar ( imm rp )

Subject Liberations: March of the Smallest Feet II

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

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

''How's the old noggin? Rhaelor asked

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Teimhnean

Date Mon Feb 27 10:27:27 2017

To All Nordmaar ( imm rp )

Subject Liberations: March of the Smallest Feet III

They required some coaxing.

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

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

They distributed potions to keep the liberated concealed.

They led them to the gate.

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

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

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


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

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

Writer: Chulric

Date Mon Feb 27 10:34:23 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Mon Feb 27 22:36:36 2017

Writer: Tirion

Date Tue Feb 28 09:27:11 2017

To All Althainia Knighthood Imm Siccara RP

Subject A Ghost in the Night 01

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

Next: Arriving in Althainia

Writer: Boof

Date Wed Mar 1 16:05:51 2017

To All Knighthood ( Devion Imm Rp Relgion )

Subject (Underhanded) Part I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...to be continued.

Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Mar 1 16:13:11 2017

Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Mar 1 16:13:18 2017

Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Mar 1 16:14:03 2017

Writer: Boof

Date Wed Mar 1 16:15:16 2017

To All Knighthood ( Devion Imm Rp Religion )

Subject (Underhanded) Part II

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...to be continued.

Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Mar 1 16:15:30 2017

Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Mar 1 16:15:37 2017

Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Mar 1 16:15:43 2017

Writer: Boof

Date Wed Mar 1 17:16:20 2017

To All Knighthood ( Devion Imm Rp Religion )

Subject (Underhanded) Part III

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...to be continued.

Writer: Boof

Date Wed Mar 1 17:18:54 2017

To All Knighthood ( Devion Imm Rp Religion )

Subject (Underhanded) Part IV

"Andthethirdinvention? Youmentionedthree didyounot?" Asked the gnome.

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

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

...to be continued?

Writer: Radanora

Date Wed Mar 1 19:30:27 2017

Writer: Phoraer

Date Wed Mar 1 23:07:10 2017

Writer: Hitoya

Date Wed Mar 1 23:22:12 2017

To All Knighthood Mercerion - Nadrik Imm

Subject Atonement Pains

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

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

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

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

Her many, many mistakes.

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

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

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

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

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Thu Mar 2 07:29:00 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Thu Mar 2 07:35:42 2017

Writer: Iscarianth

Date Thu Mar 2 09:49:30 2017

To All ( Immortal Roleplay Storyline )

Subject Far away from home ( Part 2 )

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

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

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

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

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

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


Writer: Uruvion

Date Thu Mar 2 12:59:49 2017

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 10:53:24 2017

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 11:01:29 2017

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

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

(Two years ago, on a farm near Shalonesti)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 11:06:42 2017

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 11:18:15 2017

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

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

(One year ago, on a farm near Shalonesti)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 11:24:36 2017

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sat Mar 4 12:02:14 2017

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 17:09:44 2017

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

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

(One year ago, Verminasian Territories)

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


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

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

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

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 17:13:51 2017

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

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

(One year ago, Verminasian Territories)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 17:17:09 2017

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

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

(Present Time, Verminasian Territories)

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

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

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

Her thoughts were interrupted by another familiar sound coming from the

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 17:21:41 2017

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

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

(One year ago, Verminasian Territories)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 17:25:36 2017

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

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

(One year ago, Verminasian Territories)

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

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


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

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 17:29:14 2017

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

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

(One year ago, Verminasian Territories)

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


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

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

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

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

Shad sighed and got back into bed, feigning sleep.

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 4 18:20:51 2017

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

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

(Present Time, Verminasian Territories)

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

"Oh... no."

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

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

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

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


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

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

"I think you're making a mistake-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--- THE END ---

Writer: Musen

Date Sat Mar 4 18:34:36 2017

To All Conclave Admin Imm RP Kyri Nathalos

Subject A Venture Home

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Zorreau

Date Mon Mar 6 06:57:15 2017

Writer: Zorreau

Date Mon Mar 6 06:58:34 2017

Writer: Chulric

Date Mon Mar 6 08:40:59 2017

Writer: Chulric

Date Wed Mar 8 10:15:55 2017

Writer: Iscarianth

Date Wed Mar 8 10:38:31 2017

To All ( Immortal Roleplay Storyline )

Subject Far away from home ( Part 3 )

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Euterah

Date Wed Mar 8 14:00:12 2017

To Darkonin All Dragon ( Imm )

Subject Into the Mill

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Mezlak

Date Wed Mar 8 21:51:33 2017

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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


Writer: Mezlak

Date Wed Mar 8 23:22:55 2017

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

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

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

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

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

I don't know how to do that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 17:47:11 2017

Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 17:49:55 2017

Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 17:52:08 2017

Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 17:54:12 2017

Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 17:56:35 2017

Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 17:58:49 2017

Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 18:00:28 2017

Writer: Kagetora

Date Thu Mar 9 18:02:09 2017

Writer: Telthian

Date Thu Mar 9 22:05:49 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Fri Mar 10 12:21:24 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 10 16:02:45 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 10 16:05:35 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 10 16:07:38 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 10 16:09:02 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 10 16:10:42 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 10 16:11:57 2017

Writer: Trevnon

Date Fri Mar 10 20:54:52 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sat Mar 11 07:40:21 2017

Writer: Crelius

Date Sat Mar 11 11:24:13 2017

Writer: Niskerist

Date Sat Mar 11 15:08:58 2017

Writer: Benthic

Date Sun Mar 12 00:05:45 2017

To All Shalonesti Zola ( IMM Mencius Taliena RP )

Subject Boredom and its Consequences

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

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

Writer: Uruvion

Date Sun Mar 12 01:14:48 2017

To All Benthic Shalonesti Zola ( Imm Rp Religion Zandreya )

Subject Consequences of Boredom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Zola

Date Sun Mar 12 01:57:42 2017

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

Subject X Beautiful Burning X

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

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

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

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

Writer: Niskerist

Date Sun Mar 12 18:34:22 2017

Writer: Kabal

Date Sun Mar 12 22:27:12 2017

Writer: Arreana

Date Mon Mar 13 14:55:06 2017

To All Teimhnean Althainia Knighthood Justice Immortal Taliena Religion Storyline Roleplay

Subject Not Alone: At Long Last

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

Writer: Kabal

Date Mon Mar 13 19:29:25 2017

Writer: Kabal

Date Mon Mar 13 19:30:25 2017

Writer: Benthic

Date Mon Mar 13 20:33:27 2017

To All Kahlyn Zola Abaddon ( IMM RP )

Subject Boredom

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

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

Writer: Kabal

Date Mon Mar 13 20:49:32 2017

Writer: Kahlyn

Date Mon Mar 13 22:59:27 2017

Writer: Kabal

Date Tue Mar 14 12:23:50 2017

Writer: Ayrora

Date Tue Mar 14 17:22:19 2017

To All Verminasia Immortal Storyline

Subject The Winds of Change

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Orbra

Date Wed Mar 15 00:53:34 2017

Writer: Niskerist

Date Wed Mar 15 13:19:01 2017

Writer: Niskerist

Date Wed Mar 15 13:20:14 2017

Writer: Chulric

Date Thu Mar 16 08:43:35 2017

Writer: Niskerist

Date Thu Mar 16 18:27:00 2017

Writer: Niskerist

Date Thu Mar 16 18:51:53 2017

Writer: Maccaria

Date Thu Mar 16 23:37:59 2017

Writer: Aeriset

Date Fri Mar 17 03:10:06 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline )

Subject Making A Monster I

Several months ago...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Aeriset

Date Fri Mar 17 03:11:46 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline )

Subject Making A Monster II

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

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

Then the clothes.

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

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

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

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

Writer: Aeriset

Date Fri Mar 17 03:14:24 2017

To All Marauders of Raije ( Imm RP Storyline )

Subject Making A Monster III

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Writer: Kahlyn

Date Fri Mar 17 07:32:27 2017

Writer: Kahlyn

Date Fri Mar 17 07:50:11 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 17 08:54:01 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 17 08:56:33 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 17 08:58:28 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Fri Mar 17 09:00:31 2017

Writer: Tirion

Date Fri Mar 17 12:55:09 2017

To All Althainia Knighthood Imm Siccara RP

Subject A Ghost in the Night 02

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next: Finding a Purpose

Writer: Niskerist

Date Fri Mar 17 16:22:46 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sat Mar 18 03:31:32 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sat Mar 18 03:35:19 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sat Mar 18 03:38:12 2017

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 18 11:26:45 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part one)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(---To Be Continued---)

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 18 11:28:51 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part two)

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

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

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

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

(---To Be Continued---)

Writer: Rezekir

Date Sat Mar 18 11:57:48 2017

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 18 12:08:18 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part three)

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

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

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

(---To Be Continued---)

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 18 13:11:34 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part four)

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

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

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

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

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

(---To Be Continued---)

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sat Mar 18 14:24:19 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part five)

(Seventy years ago)


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

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

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

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


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

"Sir, I-"

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


"SHADDAP! Get to work."


(Modern day)


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

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

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

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

(---To Be Continued---)

Writer: Telthian

Date Sat Mar 18 23:41:37 2017

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Mar 19 09:18:58 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part six)

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

(---To Be Continued---)

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Mar 19 10:06:25 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part seven)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Training had resumed.

(---To Be Continued---)

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Mar 19 11:21:46 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part eight)

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

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

His report was brief and to the point:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(---To Be Continued---)

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Mar 19 11:47:41 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part nine)

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

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

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


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

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


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

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

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

(---To Be Continued---)

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Mar 19 12:25:39 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part ten)

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(---To Be Continued---)

Writer: Rezekir

Date Sun Mar 19 12:34:41 2017

Writer: Khalifa

Date Sun Mar 19 12:47:38 2017

To All Marauders of Raije and the Fort

Subject Sea Legs (part eleven)

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

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

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

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

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

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


Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Mar 19 19:20:59 2017

Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Mar 19 19:21:08 2017

Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Mar 19 19:21:15 2017

Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Mar 19 19:21:20 2017

Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Mar 19 19:21:25 2017

Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Mar 19 19:21:30 2017

Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Mar 19 19:21:42 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Sun Mar 19 22:44:05 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Sun Mar 19 22:46:56 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Sun Mar 19 22:49:19 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sun Mar 19 23:31:19 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sun Mar 19 23:32:53 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sun Mar 19 23:34:25 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sun Mar 19 23:35:22 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sun Mar 19 23:36:29 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Sun Mar 19 23:44:03 2017

Writer: Kahlyn

Date Sun Mar 19 23:52:30 2017

Writer: Kahlyn

Date Sun Mar 19 23:53:25 2017

Writer: Kahlyn

Date Mon Mar 20 08:30:03 2017

Writer: Kahlyn

Date Mon Mar 20 08:30:23 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Mon Mar 20 10:28:33 2017

Writer: Thrakhath

Date Mon Mar 20 10:30:15 2017

Writer: Niskerist

Date Mon Mar 20 11:20:54 2017

Writer: Niskerist

Date Mon Mar 20 11:44:09 2017

Writer: Niskerist

Date Mon Mar 20 12:12:35 2017

Writer: Mahazi

Date Mon Mar 20 15:59:52 2017

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

Subject Hunting Traitors - First Command (Part 1)

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

Writer: Mahazi

Date Mon Mar 20 16:04:33 2017

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

Subject Hunting Traitors - Frist Command (Part 2)

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

Writer: Boof

Date Mon Mar 20 19:48:43 2017

Writer: Boof

Date Mon Mar 20 19:48:43 2017

Writer: Boof

Date Mon Mar 20 19:48:43 2017

Writer: Boof

Date Mon Mar 20 19:48:44 2017

Writer: Boof

Date Mon Mar 20 19:48:44 2017

Writer: Boof

Date Mon Mar 20 19:48:44 2017

Writer: Boof

Date Mon Mar 20 19:48:44 2017

Writer: Kahlyn

Date Mon Mar 20 22:51:23 2017

Writer: Kahlyn

Date Mon Mar 20 23:01:48 2017

Writer: Niskerist

Date Wed Mar 22 19:25:48 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Wed Mar 22 21:21:50 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Wed Mar 22 21:23:55 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Wed Mar 22 21:25:49 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Wed Mar 22 21:28:00 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Wed Mar 22 21:30:21 2017

Writer: Vashilore

Date Wed Mar 22 21:34:42 2017



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