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Player Written Story Note Archive

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

Listed By Author Name

The Gnomish Solution
A Murderous Rage
|Molding an Empire|
The Harbour of Ithersea - A Captain's Arrival [Part 1/2]
The Harbour of Ithersea - A Captain's Arrival [Part 2/2]
Dahakon's Vanity
A Sacrifice of Blood
A Sacrifice of Blood - Part Two
The testing of a knight
The testing of a knight
The testing of a knight (part 3)
Symphony of Sorrows
A Sacrifice of Blood - Part Three
A Sacrifice of Blood - Part Four
Fighting Back part 3
Fighting Back part 4
A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part One
A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part Two
A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part Three
A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part Four
Fighting Back part 5
Conviction of Faith
-The Shadoweaver-
Sebatis' Gift
A Study in the Necromantic Arts
Sebatis' Gift : Part 2 : The Searchening
Sebatis' Gift : Part 3 : The Priesterly Meeting
The Art of Killing
A Time of Meditation
Work to be done
Iagothal: A New Menace (1/4)
Iagothal: A New Menace (2/4)
Iagothal: A New Menace (3/4)
Iagothal: A New Menace (4/4)
X Dark Virtue - Creativity X
X Dark Virtue - Preparation X
X Dark Virtue - Acceptance X
X Dark Virtue - Patience X
A Sacrifice of Blood - A Slow Recovery
Seeking Demons
A Sacrifice of Blood - The Bloody Meeting (Part One)
A Sacrifice of Blood - The Bloody Meeting (Part Two)
Seeking Demons part 2
Seeking Demons part 3
Seeking Demons part 4
Ulrog's KILLING rage
Entering the Fight
Sindraste's Forthcoming
X Dark Virtue - Ambition X
A mission
Destiny served Cold
Destiny served Cold (part 2)
Destiny served Cold ( Finale )
Piss on et! - Part 1
A Prayer: Abandoning the Nations
[ Animal I Have Become ]
Pawns of the Gods
|The Broken|
| The Crucible of an Empire III |
New Orders
[ Be Prepared For Hell ]
In your Fort, killin' your dudes.
[ Dead but Rising ]
Oh, Rats!
Overture to a Swan Song: Reflections of the Soul
Overture to a Swan Song: Closing the Book
|Disease Rampant|
Whispers of the Enemy (I)
Whispers of the Enemy (II)
A Thalosian Always Repays Their Debts: Part 1
Signature Genesis
Whispers of the Enemy (I)
The life of a Slave
Down on the Farm (Part 1)
Down on the Farm (Part 2 The End)
A page from the journal of Blade Finnath
|Hellfire and Pain|
A Thalosian Always Repays Their Debts: Part 2
The death of a Bishop
The Sea and the Salts 2
Mnemonic Sacrifice
Wreaking Havoc
The Dark Man - Part 1
The Dark Man - Part 1 (cont'd)
The Singing Harp
The Singing Harp (Pt 2)
The Return of the Red Guardian
A Sinking Feeling
The Dark Man - Part 2
Choosing to Bleed
Settling In
Another Side, Another Story I
Another Side, Another Story II
Another Side, Another Story III
Planting Festival: Sharing Her Gifts
Planting Festival: Sharing Her Gifts Continued...
The Gates of Ironclad: Assessing the Situation I
The Gates of Ironclad: Assessing the Situation II
The Songbird of Itholasia - The Admiral's Arrival
The Good Can Be More Evil
Itholasia-Shore Leave
Persephenie's Penance
Back In Shadulence
| Hot Chicks |
Work for Solaria - The Gates of Ironclad
Azheri's dream of retirement
Safe from the Unnatural
| Solitude |
The Priestess: The Mantle of Leadership [Part I]
|Expedition I|
|Expedition II|
|Expedition III|
The Dark Man - Part 3
The Dark Man - Part 3 (cont'd)
The Dark Man - Part 3 (cont'd)
The Dark Man - Part 3 (cont'd)
Defending the Tower ''-HEY!!!- (A Meeting With the Chairman)'' (Chapter Three: Part One)
Defending the Tower ''-HEY!!!- (A Meeting With the Chairman)'' (Chapter Three: Part Two)
Defending the Tower ''-HEY!!!- (A Meeting With the Chairman)'' (Chapter Three: Part Three)
Defending the Tower ''-HEY!!!- (A Meeting With the Chairman)'' (Chapter Three: Part Four)
On the Hunt
Defending the Tower ''-HEY!!!- (A Meeting With the Chairman)'' (Chapter Three: Part Five )
Defending the Tower ''(Interlude): Sharp Dressed Man'' (Chapter Three: Part Six )
The Prophecy
An Idle Walk (I)
Tales of the Scurvy Buzzard : Finding What's Lost
Returning Home
X Laying the Foundation (1of4) X
X Laying the Foundation (2of4) X
X Laying the Foundation (3of4) X
X Laying the Foundation (4of4) X
Snake Eyes
The Girl with the Flowery Hair
The Cruel Passage of Time
A Life Long Lost
Justice for the Slain part 1
Terror in the night, pt. 1
Terror in the night, pt. 2
The Mother of Thousands
Roots (pt. 1)
Roots (pt. 2)

Writer: Zqii
Date Fri Feb 13 21:51:40 2015

To Darkonin All IMM RP

Subject The Gnomish Solution

The low lit tunnels deep inside the icewall mountains are
dimmer than usual from lack of maintenance to the wall torches
and oil burning lamps. But, at the core of Darkonin a meeting
is being held.

The central hearth is alive with flickering shadows and the dense
smell of burnt cedar as the large fire is stoked by attendants.
With the fire used as light a single small goblin and large ogre
discuss current events and finally come to an agreement with
stern nods to each other.

In but moments the two are drawing on the stone walls of the
hearth with their pointed fingers through the soot, leaving
streaks on the surfaces of marble as their fingers drag away
the thin layer of black ash.

Once done the illustration is titled "Best Method", and shows
a round curly haired severed head being slammed vertically
downward on a sharp line of rock like a split coconut. An
arrow points to the head and unmistakably says "Gnome Brain".
At the bottom it is signed "X & Z"

With that, the two part ways and the attendants leave the hearth.
After hours the crackling fire melts the logs to ash, and the sun
dawns on the icewall range.

Writer: Ashbie

Date Sat Feb 14 07:28:37 2015

Writer: Ulrog

Date Sat Feb 14 12:53:01 2015

To All Fatale Imm Religion RP

Subject A Murderous Rage

The sounds of lofting hymns rang around the cathedral as the High Priest
of Austinian led the Church of Stars in prayer. Countless pews, filled with
pious citizens and clergy, lined the church, and through the guise of
peaceful calm, none noticed the pale figure in the rafters, hidden in the
shadows and seething with a murderous hatred.

Stained glass windows cast colorful shadows on the floor of the cathedral,
but as the setting sun sank lower in the sky, the light of candles was all
that illuminated the service. As the light gradually dimmed, Ulrogs keen
night vision allowed him to see every heartbeat, every pump of blood that
kept each individual alive. He inhaled deeply, then wrinkled his nose.
Yes, the smell of so much warm blood was intoxicating, but it was tainted
with joy, rather than seasoned with fear. The demon had plotted every
moment of this night, planning to wait until the sun had fully sunk below
the horizon before sacrificing every person and creature in the cathedral to
the Master.

As the last ray of the suns light disappeared, Ulrog waited until the High
Priest called for a prayer, and All heads were bowed. When none were paying
attention, the demon leapt from the rafters and sank his fangs into the
priests exposed neck. When the sound of the prayer was abruptly cut off,
replaced with the thin, gurgling sounds of the High Priests death, the
worshippers looked up in astonishment only to see and hear a maddened, pale
figure wielding two axes and bellowing as he beheaded each member of the
congregation in turn.

As the screams began, Ulrog inhaled deeply once more. Yes, there it was.
The scent of All this blood tinged with fear filled him with strength, and
an obscene strength filled his limbs. The Killing Rage, the skill so
beloved by the dwarves, but useless in their pathetic hands. This was a
rage only worthy of the Master Fatale, and only in His servants could the
skill be utilized to its fullest. Every heartbeat was a beacon to be
extinguished to the demon, and with the snuff of each unworthy life, the
vampire uttered a silent prayer to Fatale, sending each to the void in His

The cathedral had turned into a bloodbath, with severed heads and limbs,
each pumping thick rivulets of blood, littering the stone floor, and a
short, pale figure with glowing red eyes surveying the carnage he had
wrought in the center of the chapel.

'Lord Fatale, this one has wrought this deed of murder and death in His name. May each life this one has taken this day be pleasing to Him, and may the Lord of Death look upon His servant with favor.'

Writer: Traice

Date Sat Feb 14 13:25:23 2015

To Verminasia Marauders Shadow All ( Tashio Roleplay Storyline )

Subject |Molding an Empire|

Traice stood next to his advisor, arms folded across his muscular armored
chest. His crimson eyes watching as the workers prepared the statue, ropes
unraveling from the top to the floor and being attached to carts. Each rope
tied around a point in the God's crown, drawn taut as they ascend downwards.

Traice glanced over at his advisor as he spoke, "Raije's statue will be
pulled from the sky, and in its place a grand temple will be erected to
symbolize what the Marauders once were, and what it will be again. It will
be a symbol of what is to come, and allow us to retake our claim as a true
"Dark Army""

The Advisor gave a snort as the sound of the new soldiers of the darkness
trained behind them. The sound of steel on steel clashing in a rhythmatic
orchestra of grutns, clangs and the occasional scream. Traice raised his
eyebrow in curiosity towards the advisor.

"With this, we will be seen as declaring war on Raije, you know."

"No boy. We simply return the Iron Citadel back to a time it was. Before
it was crippled with the weakness instilled in it by Valdaglarion and Raijes
vengeance upon him. Before Raije turned a proud army into a pack of
sniveling weasels. Back when they were feared. When they were conquerors.

The Advisor scowled up at the statue, his eyes burning with disgust before
pivoting, his back turning to it as he strode away.

Traice shrugged his armored shoulders, his crimson orbs watching until the
advisor turned the corner. Behind him the sound of stone breaking apart
filled the air, the statue crumbling to the ground.

"You might not think we're declaring war. But Raije will.'

Writer: Rmed

Date Sat Feb 14 17:09:14 2015

Writer: Obaediah

Date Sun Feb 15 05:48:08 2015

Writer: Ilimilipili

Date Sun Feb 15 11:53:04 2015

To All Verminasia Epistatia

Subject The Harbour of Ithersea - A Captain's Arrival [Part 1/2]

The small board room was packed; for the first time in ages, every
shareholder who held an interest in the town's shipping yards was present,
from the lowest sailor to the highest lord. All were on edge, crammed into
the tight room, their fears and discontent falling from their worried lips
without censor or thought. Word had reached them that their Viscountess,
Epistatia, had sent forth a new handler --- one that was expected to arrive
with tomorrow's dawn, and herald great changes to the world they called
their own.

'I hear that he is a demon without conscience,' whispered one of the ship

'He is coming to steal away our jobs! To take our income for his own!'
shouted a sailor, his voice filled with anguish at the thought.

'I hear that he sups on human flesh,' the head of the carpenter's guild

'They say that he sails with the dregs of the Crimson Armada... The worst
of the worst!'

And so on and so forth rang the rumors, the lies, the whispers and
half-truths and screams of abuse to come. In such a den of liars and
merchant-thieves, Devion's tenets became law; misdirection and
misinformation spread like wildfire, unstopped and unchecked as each tried
to frighten the others, only to be frightened in turn. For hours on end,
they raged and ranted, in fear for both their livelihood and lives,
questions and complaints on every tongue. And then, amidst that splendid
array of cacophonic chaos, a feminine voice rang out, a touch of musical
harmony tinting the sweetness of her words, discordant to All that had been
said or shouted:

'I have heard, my sweet little dears, that he... Is really a she.'

There was power in those words; a power not wholly of the mundane kind.
Tongues drew to a silence, listening to the fading notes of a song they
couldn't quite here. Eyes turned towards the center of the room, the source
of the unfamiliar and comely voice. Noblemen and sailors alike sat in awe,
drinking in the form of the red-headed dark elf that knelt amongst them.
She looked almost demure, kneeling upon the table in a submissive enough
position, her heavy leather skirt pooling about her folded legs, her blouse
buttoned just high enough to be scandalous rather than immodest. For long
moments, nothing but silence met her words, her quiet music, nothing but
fear welling and growing within the room. For All of their posturing in the
supposed privacy of a gathering, they were at a loss now, faced with the
sinful creature their Viscountess had been cruel enough to send. She
waited, gathering her magic, preparing herself while she drank in that sweet
cocktail of uncertainty and fear. At long last, her voice once more broke
the silence, words reverberating with a singer's prowess.

'Good morning, dear ones. My sweet Viscountess has bid me to make these
docks profitable, and to build them up into something dear Ithersea can be
Proud of. I do hope you don't mind.'

So soft was the voice, so kind the intonation that it took several seconds
for the masses to drink in the meaning of her words. Voices began to rise
in question and complaint once more, a barrage of questions growing. She
listened to each complaint in silence, gave no answer to each question.
Finally, when the words had grown heated enough, her voice rang out once
more, the softness of her voice carrying across the harsher tones of their

'Do not fret so, my dear and lovely compatriots.... There is still a place
for All of you in Ithersea... Upon the docks and ships and woodworking
shops. We have much to do, for Ithersea to prosper... And we will do it
hand in hand.'

And then, in the silence that followed... She began to sing.

Writer: Ilimilipili

Date Sun Feb 15 12:01:44 2015

To All Verminasia Epistatia

Subject The Harbour of Ithersea - A Captain's Arrival [Part 2/2]

Emerald green eyes traversed the board room. Those who had been charmed
and taken stood passive, waiting to be taken away by members of the Armada.
Their new fate would not be the cozy fires and sumptuous meals that they had
known in the past --- but then, it would be some time before they knew any
better at all. They at least would live; if they could not understand the
beauty of such a gift... Well, then they would not have it for long.

The light sound of footsteps broke the elfess from her reverie. Without
glancing up, she gave her orders to the small form that was approaching, a
fondness in her voice.

'The mess will need to be cleaned --- pack what is edible, and have the rest
disposed of.'

Throughout the room, tintinnabular laughter resounded, ringing out in
gleeful response as her subordinate set to work.

'Yes, Miss Susan!'

Writer: Dahakon

Date Mon Feb 16 09:07:38 2015

To All Verminasia Iolanthe Religion Mencius Imm RP

Subject Dahakon's Vanity

The carriage rolled atop of the wet mud, bouncing lightly against the
many rocks on the path. The Baron of Iolanthe was off to visit his barony
once again. How he hated traveling in the inclement weather however he was
to inspect a portrait of himself ready at the manor. The carriage stopped
suddenly at the steps of the manor as the driver scrambled out and hurried
to get the carpet out from under the carriage to lie out on the wet ground.
The Baron opened the carriage door and stepped out onto the driver's back,
using him as a common step. The Baron drove the driver into the ground and
hurried up the steps. The large doors to the manor were opened and several
servants were on hand to remove his cloak and dry the Baron's boots. 'He
awaits your presence in the Great Hall, milord', said the servant as he
bowed his head deeply. Dahakon strode quickly towards the Hall, a jeweled
Bishop's crosier in his hand slapping loudly against the stones as he
rounded the corner.

'Let us see it, artisan, I have neither the time nor the patience' roared
the Bishop.

'Milord, a pleasure to serve you, as always. I believe I have it correct
this time' responded the meek and mild local artisan. The artisan removed
the cloth hiding the portrait and unveiled it to the Baron's feasting eyes.
The large portrait showed Dahakon Kensey in Bishop robes with the familiar
crosier lying across his lap. A crown was pictured on the left breast of
outer cloak while All the titles he styled himself were engraved in the
frame itself outlying the portrait. The Baron had a smug look on his face,
one that showed a certain evil in his eyes and darkness in his subtle grin.

'You finally got it right man. It's about time.

'Indeed milord. I've been a fool. Where would you like it displayed? '
The Baron scanned around the room looking for just the place for this final
portrait as some workman hurried around readying for where the Baron would
wish it. He had already chosen a few places in the passing months but had
crossed them All off his list. He had even considered constructing a new
building just for that purpose. The Baron stopped for a moment, rubbing his
chin thoughtfully as he stared at the wall above the high table.

'There', said Dahakon as he pointed. Following the Baron's finger he
pointed at a blank space beside a portrait rendering of a god on the wall.
The portrait showed a giant ogre with tusks as long as a human's arm
protruding from a huge, snarling mouth. A large Warhammer is in one hand as
a pitch black bastard sword is in the other. He towers over a non-descript
burning city as an army of mortals are portrayed behind him. At the bottom
of the frame is a gold plate with one word, 'Mencius. ' The artisan smiled
as he snapped to the workers.

'Indeed, my Lord. This portrait will look rightful below the portrait of
our God. '

'Not below, dear Artisan, beside', answered the Baron calmly. The artisan
just stared at the Bishop, his mouth gaped as he realized fully what the man
was saying.

'Be... Beside, milord? '

'Indeed, I have earned my place there. See it done. ' The Baron turned
abruptly from the room, striding from it smugly as ever. The artisan and
workers were left in the wake of his exit simply staring at each other. The
artisan simply hung his head in defeat, shaking it slightly.

'Our Baron has slowly been falling into his own pride since he first became
a Novitiate. Over time it only gets worse. This will be seen by All that
visit as a blatant display. Hang the picture and let us away lest we feel
his wrath. '

Writer: Ulrog

Date Mon Feb 16 22:19:44 2015

To All Bloodlust Fatale Kyri Imm Religion RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood

Ulrog crept through the darkened alleys of Althainia after the sun had
sunk below the horizon. Ever since joining the fray, the void in his days
had been filled with the opportunity to murder and sacrifice whomever he
wanted to the Master, an opportunity he relished. He would continue proving
himself to Fatale and the Horde, in hopes of earning a place in the Dungeon
so favored by the Master.

The task given to him by Syrsaena hung in the back of his mind: to prove
himself a versatile and loyal servant of the Master, he had to give up his
most comfortable weapon and accomplish his next series of kills using the
Masters favored instrument, the dagger. To do this, the demon could not
enter the killing rage he favored, he had to be cunning and silent,
everything a favored killer of Fatale should be. Crouching in a dark
corner, the demons red eyes glowed dimly as he surveyed the thinning crowd
of people still wandering the streets after dark.

In these killings, the demon would be indiscriminate, killing whomever
wandered near at the opportune time. He would sow fear into the minds of
Althainias citizens over the next days. None would know who would be
slaughtered next.

The clack of a shoe on cobblestones drew Ulrogs attention. A lone young
woman strolled down Crown Street, basket in hand and obviously headed home
from a days shopping. He inhaled deeply. The scent was intoxicating, and
she was as good a first kill as any, innocent and pure. Waiting until she
passed, the demon sprang out from his hiding place, unseen until the moment
the dagger plunged into the young womans heart. After her pale body
crumpled to the stones, the demon hauled the body to the shadows and removed
the knife from her body.

Thirst grew in Ulrog as the scent of the blood on the blade wafted toward
him, but this kill was not meant to feed his thirst. These kills were for
the Master, so the demon left the sticky blood clinging on the blade as he
made the midnight trek to the temple of Fatale. Kneeling before the altar,
he wiped the blade on the stone, leaving a red streak across the symbol of
the Master.

'This kill was made for you, Master. This one prays that with each kill he
makes, his worthiness as a servant grows to Him, and his worthiness as an
ally grows to the Horde. May the innocent fall to the Lord of Murder, and
Darkness prevail.

Writer: Ferg

Date Tue Feb 17 10:18:02 2015

Writer: Ulrog

Date Tue Feb 17 16:25:46 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - Part Two

Two days had passed since Ulrogs last random killing. Tensions in the
city of light were high, and hardly any walked the street after dark. The
Empress of Althainia harbored deep grudges against his kind, and had
immediately suspected vampire involvement. Thus, she had warned her
citizens of the dangers, and the pickings were slim as light disappeared in
the sky. The demon stalked through the alleys, finding none to sacrifice to
the Master. It appeared that the Empress had succeeded in making his task
more difficult, and he had to hunt a prey that expected his arrival.

Ulrog approached a small inn, and spotted a light glowing in an upper
window, shining light onto the street and drawing his gaze. Cloaked in
shadows, the vampire scaled the stone walls and peered inside. A large
human man lay in his bed, reading by the light of the candle on the bedside
table, unaware of the demon perched outside his window. The door bolted,
the man assumed himself safe to open a window and let the breeze in while he
slept, and his mistake would prove fatal.

Darting into the room, Ulrog remembered that his task was to remain calm and
collected, not entering into a rage or wielding his preferred axes. Drawing
a knife from his belt, he lunged toward the man, reaching around and cutting
his throat, letting the blood spill and stain the white bedsheets. As
before, the demon ignored the intoxicating aroma of the mans spilled blood,
taking none for himself. These kills were done in the Masters name, and he
would take no blood for his own sustenance. Drawing a crystal vial from a
pouch at his side, Ulrog let the mans blood drip slowly into the vial. Once
full, he stoppered it and leapt once more through the open window, merging
into the shadows and leaving the man to be discovered by the innkeeper the
next morning.

Trekking to the Masters temple, the demon amused himself by imagining the
look on the innkeepers face upon discovering the corpse, and the Empresss
reaction when she realized her citizens were still being slaughtered in the
streets and in their beds, with nothing she could do about it. When he
arrived at the altar, he unstoppered the bottle and poured it over the
carved stone, kneeling at its base and murmuring a prayer:

Lord Fatale, this one will strike fear into the hearts of those that follow
the light. None shall sleep soundly in their beds, nor shall they walk
safely in their streets. This one shall sacrifice the innocent to Him, so
that the Master may feed from their blood and terror, and judge this one a
worthy slave.

Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Feb 17 17:19:17 2015

Writer: Gurfing

Date Tue Feb 17 20:39:23 2015

Writer: Aliera

Date Tue Feb 17 20:57:56 2015

Writer: Atheran

Date Tue Feb 17 21:36:40 2015

To All shadow Ellminaidra Reklah Jurann imm rp

Subject The testing of a knight

Atheran sat back on his blanket as he spoke to the men of the keep. The
room was loud as the stories of combat and the words of God were passed
around. A loud and powerful voice rang out from the distance, echoing off
of the walls. As the room calmed down, the yell come rushing through the
room once more. 'Hydrea, your office! ' The voice was unmistakably
Abram's. Atheran quickly stood up and marched himself to the chamber of
Strategy. Upon entering, Atheran quickly stood at attention and saluted his
Chancellor. 'Sir? ', Atheran quickly asked. Abram paced back and forth
behind the table that was placed within the center of the room. 'Our fort,
posted upon Icewall, is in dire need of assistance.
' Atheran stared
blankly at Abram as the words dug their way into his head. 'What do you
mean, sir?
' Abram released a deep sigh as he removed his helmet and set it
next to a map. Leaning against the table, Abram pointed down at the map.
'Here, here is the fort. ' Atheran stepped forward to the table, examining
the map as Abram continued. 'To the west of the fort is a valley which
holds little. If you continue a days time, you will find a forest which has
not yet been looked into. This is what has troubled us.
' Again Atheran
spoke up to Abram, 'Sir? ' Abram continued to stare at the map as he
continued on. 'A spirit rift has been spotted on the edge of these woods.
From the rift, a wilder priest has appeared.
' Abram looked back up at
Atheran before continuing, 'I want you to look into this situation. I want
to know everything there is to know about this rift and priest. The fort is
worried and we can not sit by if things begin to turn for the worst. You
will be given fifty men of the Legion who will assist you on your trip.
Abram stood back up from the table and posted himself before Atheran. Do
you have any questions, Hydrea?
' Atheran shook his head as he was
questioned. 'No sir. ' Abram nodded his head as he spoke his final words.
'You have one day to prepare yourself before the ship departs. Tell your
family goodbye as we are unsure what is to be expected in the upcoming days.
Now be off, you are dismissed.
' Atheran brought his hand up once again,
saluting Abram. Quickly leaving the room, Atheran began thinking on the
best way to handle the situation.

Atheran searched the barracks for forty nine men worthy of taking up arms
against a forced that they were not prepared to fight. He was nearly
prepared to depart, as he considered the last man that he would bring with
him to fight the threat that plagued the fort on Icewall. He marched down
the lines of barracks until He reached the last. A young man, wearing dark
robes, stood and saluted as Atheran approached. Atheran checked the sign
that stood above the door. "Gray Robes". The young man ran into the
barracks yelling out for the men to stand at attention.

Atheran barreled through the long lines of men. Each stood at the ends of
their bunks, their hands balled up at their sides, at the position of
attention. Atheran quickly looked the men over as he went. The markings on
their robes only named them as petitioners, here and there stood a novice.
As Atheran reached the end of the barrack he stopped in front of a young man
who wore a faded robe that had thick blotches of pink and green goop,
covering it.

Merkalis, you have been chosen, as my student, to join me on a mission.
Prepare your things and be at the docks tomorrow morning.
Merkalis stood
in confusion for a moment before offering a simple, Yes sir. As Atheran
turned to leave the barracks, Merkalis quickly spoke up. What about my
cauldron, sir? Who will assist in moving it?
Atheran became angry with
the question. He expected the young warlock to be prepared for any
situation. Atheran slowly turned back toward the man and whispered, Have
your fellow recruits assist in moving the cauldron toward the ship.
that Atheran barreled back out of the barracks and made his way home.

Writer: Atheran

Date Tue Feb 17 21:44:57 2015

To All Shadow Ellminaidra Reklah Jurann imm rp

Subject The testing of a knight

Atheran sat, looking out over the waters, on his loyal steed, Merigold,
as the sun began to peek above the ocean. He turned his attention to the
large formation that stood before him. Forty nine men of the legion and one
young man of the robe were prepared to follow his orders into potential
combat. The men were prepared to die in defense of a fort that they had
never visited. As the sun hit his armor, the gold began to shine bright.

Atheran pulled Merigolds reigns, turning himself to face the formation. Men
of His keep, today we head toward a threat that is unknown to us.
paused for a moment as his eyes scanned the crowd that stood before him.
Death has its grasp on us as we move forward. We are All to remember that
God is All around us. Should we fall, it is for God.
As the final words
were spoken a loud roar, from the formation, bellowed out. FOR THE
Tingles ran down Atherans spine. He was pleased with the men
that stood before him.

Atheran bowed his head, quickly followed by the large formation that stood
before him. Lord Necrucifer, Master of Darkness, we thank you for the
strength that you have given us. The task at hand holds difficult as our
men offer their lives to ensure that Your Prophecy comes into fruition.
thank you for bringing us men worthy of serving you. Together we stand as a
force that none may stand against. Lord, we thank you for your protection.
In your guidance, should conflict arise, we will stand in victory, not
defeat. May Darkness guide these men. Amen
x Together the crowd echoed the
word, AMEN

Atheran lifted his head, once again looking over the crowd of men. You are
dismissed, board the ship!
The men broke from the formation, one after
another, boarding the ship. After All of the men were boarded, Atheran
guided his loyal steed up the plank, leading her to the stables. After
dismounting, he came to the front of Merigold, to offer her a pet on the
snout. Atheran left the stables to join his men within the ships quarters.

Writer: Atheran

Date Tue Feb 17 21:54:51 2015

To All Shadow Ellminaidra Reklah Jurann imm rp

Subject The testing of a knight (part 3)

Atheran found his bunk, blocked from the rest by a flimsy wall. He
wanted himself to be close to the men. If death was possible, he would
spend the hours before, speaking to his men. Conversation carried on as the
ship moved through the water. Men slowly began to disperse as time went on,
all except for Merkalis. The young man was an interest to Atheran. Novice,
share your story with me.
, Atheran spoke as he rested his head against the
outer wall of the ship, his legs spread out on the floor. Sir, wouldnt you
rather speak of yourself first?
Atheran chuckled at the thought of a
novice not wanting to share his story first. Atheran nodded in agreement as
he began his story.

My life began in a small village, placed in the northeastern edge of
Tropica, concealed in thick jungle. It was a hard place to find unless you
knew where it was. The village was built for those of the Darkness who
claimed themselves to be thieves and murderers.
I learned most of what I
know about God there. During the day we would learn to fight and steal to
ensure the survival of my family. At night we would sit around the fire and
listen to our elders as they spread the words of God.
As I grew older I
became engrossed in the teachings of God. I would stay up late to listen to
my father as he prattled on. Later in my teen years, one late night, I
found my mother sneaking away to a church of Nadrik.
To ensure this would
end, I waited until she left the church and I killed her. Her throat was
slit and I watched as her blood drained from her body. I did not hide it, I
wanted the world to see her as a traitor. After I waited for her death, I
returned to the village and I burned it down.
I watched as men and women
ran in a panic. They were All scared but I was hoping that the traitors
would die. I dont know if any others survived and I pray that none did.

'Atheran looked up, as he finished his story, to a surprised look on
Merkalis face. What is wrong, Novice? Merkalis shook his head, as if he
was disapproving of what Atheran has spoken of. When I was a young boy, my
father told me a story of a village.
The village was for the men who
claimed themselves to be thieves and murderers. The village was burned down
and my father was lucky to escape.
Merkalis let out a thick cackle just
before he questioned Atheran. Are we brothers? Atheran shook off the idea
and stood up. 'It is time to rest, Novice. Take your place in your bunk
and we shall speak later.
Merkalis nodded toward Atheran as the two went
to rest.

Writer: Sindraste

Date Wed Feb 18 00:25:50 2015

To Bloodlust All ( Dekaios Admin Storyline Scorn Fatale )

Subject Symphony of Sorrows

The underground chamber was full of screaming.

Dozens of voices wailed without lungs to breathe with or vocal chords to
give sound with. They screamed and howled without the means to express
themselves, enslaved to the will of one creature who beckoned and gestured
with flamboyant extravagance, like a conductor leading a choir. As its arms
rose and fell in the near-darkness, the pitch and volume swelled and
diminished, creating a symphony of sorrow that echoed unnaturally in the
subterranean chamber.

The Lich laughed gaily, the sound lost in the din, and continued to conduct
its masterpiece even as blood trickled down from pointed ears, the thick,
glutinous ichor spattering on the shoulders of its voluminous overcoat. The
sound was too great, and its eardrums had ruptured under the constant
bombardment of shrieks and screams. The creature that wore mortal flesh,
however, had no need for ears for hearing, and it basked in the miserable
adulation of its choir.

Each voice had a source, some from a skull that sat on its own plinth on the
stone platform, some from hearts that rested on small cushions. Each was a
trophy- a prize cut from each soul that had been claimed by the Lich in its
service to Fatale's dungeon. Each bore a small piece of its owner's soul,
and it was that tiny shred of self that the necromantrix tormented now,
eliciting the uproar that made the vampire cavort and dance as it conducted,
ecstatic at the agony of hearing and the sorrow of its subjects. Each life
belonged, in some small way, to Fatale, had tasted the Abyss before being
reeled back into the mortal plane, but each now knew the mark of death that
was imprinted on their souls.

The vampire smiled, baring eye teeth that glinted a dull red from the glow
behind its spectacles. It took a perverse, almost sensual glee in its part
in battle. Rarely seen, rarely felt, often never even raising a finger
after its work was done. It was merely a messenger, the gatekeeper that
opened the way for Fatale's favored to pour through and deliver the sentence
as was due All living things- a swift and bloody end. It enjoyed how
understated the role was, the exhilaration of guile and the exultation of
overwhelming victory. There was nothing so sweet as the blood of the fallen
when steeped in hopelessness, and that gift of despair was the most
heartfelt gesture the spirit wearing elven flesh could give.

The screeching chorus built to a deafening crescendo one final time, the
sounds making the vampire's fangs chatter and the blood that sat in pools
quiver before it finally lowered its arms, allowing the concert to end.
With a whisper, the demon repaired its own dead flesh, necromancy mending
the sundered eardrums and restored the appearance of passing vitality.

The hour was almost upon it, it knew, and when it came, the Dungeon's door
would swing wide to admit the shadow that loomed over Algoron.

Writer: Pieruette

Date Wed Feb 18 08:29:04 2015

Writer: Bauk

Date Wed Feb 18 15:52:27 2015

Writer: Cala

Date Wed Feb 18 17:02:54 2015

Writer: Ulrog

Date Wed Feb 18 21:26:13 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - Part Three

Ulrog waited three days to reenter the city and stage his next kill.
However, when Althainia came into view on the return journey, the gates were
barred shut, the walls lined with torches, and far more sentries than
ordinary stationed on the ramparts. It seems that his efforts in the city
had been noted, and the Empress and her husband had taken measures to make
his next kill much more difficult. The surplus of guards would not make his
deed impossible, but it would make secrecy and silence even more important.
The strength of his host, combined with the demonic power at his disposal
made him a fearsome warrior, but not even he could withstand the onslaught
of the entire city watch if they knew where he was.

Sinking unseen into the shadows, Ulrog made his way to the base of the wall,
finding finger holds and small protrusions to grab hold of and heave himself
over the wall. Once over the ledge and on the ramparts, Ulrog was forced to
duck and hide from several different patrols pacing the wall. Even moving
unseen, it would not do for the guards to see a haze in the air or the
rustle of dust with the city on high alert. Making his way into the city,
the demon once again noticed that the streets were empty, and All doors
barred and windows latched. Such trivial things could not stop him, but
when secrecy was his ally the sound of a broken door or pane of glass would
be un unwelcome enemy.

On this night his target was not a civilian or innocent youth. The demon
would instead strike closer to the Empress, letting her know that his blades
and fury could reach even the most secure targets. He would not take any of
her children, they were far too well guarded in the evening, notwithstanding
the alert in the city. However, he would take someone close to her in
proximity, a guard in the citadel. A murder so close would terrify her for
the safety of her family, especially for her brood of children. It was not
necessary to touch the Empress or Emperor themselves, nor any of their
family, only to strike fear in them of the possibility. Such would be a
great victory in itself, to have the leadership and the citizens of the city
of light so terrified of the darkness that they would not leave their homes
or keep.

Ulrog darted behind walls and kept to the shadows All the way to the
citadel, where he waited patiently for a lone guard to wander the grounds
near his location. When he saw his target come within a few feet of him,
the vampire lunged with his knife, taking the guard in the chest and making
him groan in pain before Ulrog clapped a hand over his mouth. The wound was
serious enough to kill on its own, but this particular death, more so than
the others, was meant to send a message. Dozens of times the demon plunged
the knife into the guard, leaving over a score of deep, bloody wounds all
over his chest, neck, and body.


Writer: Ulrog

Date Wed Feb 18 21:30:26 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - Part Four

My god! Ulrog heard a voice cry as he finished his work. In his
reverie, the demon had not noticed that a second patrol of three guards had
rounded the corner, and had spotted the mutilated guard on the ground. The
demon was unseen, but still kneeling over his kill. All it would take would
be a wrong move, and the guards would spot him before he was able to get out
of the city. As the rushed forward to check the condition of a friend who
was quite clearly dead, Ulrog was able to use their distraction to slip

Rushing towards the outskirts of the city, he turned down a back alley only
to find a second, larger party of guards, All wearing brightly shining armor
and bearing torches. In the lead, the Emperor of Althainia himself marched,
carrying a torch in one hand and a sword in the other, and bearing a wooden
stake sheathed at his belt. It appeared his deeds were being taken more
seriously than even he had hoped for, if the Emperor was risking himself to
hunt for him. However, at the moment Ulrog was still unseen, and therefore
safe from the Emperor and his men. Turning away from the alley with the
patrol, and making his way the other direction, the demon heard one of the
members of the patrol call out to the Emperor, claiming that he had seen
something at the far side of the alley. With the sound of clanking metal
and pursuing knights at his rear, Ulrog hastily retreated and the shouts of
the men diminished with distance.

Believing that the worst was behind him, Ulrog made it back to the wall when
he heard the warning bell toll, and the sound of roused guards was coming
from most every direction as he peered around hastily looking for a clear
escape route. The only means of escape with the city closed off was over
the wall, and it was teeming with guards. However, it was the only option
available. Ulrog scaled the wall once more, when midway up he heard a
female shout from below him. Lit by the torches of a dozen knights that
surrounded her, Aliera stood with a sword in her hand, shouting at the men
surrounding her to spread out and keep their eyes open, and not to search
anywhere by themselves.

Such wise counsel, the demon thought. If only the demon had any intention
of staying to see what the Empress intended if she found him. Instead, he
finished scaling the wall and climbed up to the ramparts, turning to vault
over the other side when the wooden shaft of a spear strike him in the side
lightly. Slightly startled, Ulrog turned to see a shocked patrolman staring
at the empty air in front of him. The man had obviously seen something
suspicious in the air surrounding the vampire and waved his spear in front
of him, and abruptly the vampires secrecy was blown. The shock turned into
rage as the guard managed a shout of triumph and drew the attention of the
other patrols in the area, including the Empress on the grounds below.
Snarling, Ulrog shoved the man over the wall and he fell screaming to his
death far below, his warning shout the last sound he ever made. Turning to
descend the other side of the wall before the others caught up to him, the
demon took one last moment to sneer at the sight of the oncoming torches,
thinking that it would be a long while before any in Althainia slept
comfortably in their beds.

Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 21:53:55 2015

Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 22:18:16 2015

Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 22:18:30 2015

Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 22:18:38 2015

Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 22:22:19 2015

Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 23:13:03 2015

To Althainia All Shalonesti Ulrog Imm RP Nadrik

Subject Fighting Back part 3

A veritable cache of weapons were delivered to Alieras feet, shimmering
stakes and magnificently crafted blades, tumbled out of the delivered chests
to spread across the cobblestone streets before the castle with the ringing
of metal on stone. The Empress looked down at the weapons, taking stock of
them before glancing up at the men that had delivered them. All of them
blessed, All of them enchanted?
The vorpal blades hummed with magic and
were glowing softly in the slowly brightening light of the morning as the
sun rose to just peak above the high city walls.

With a nod and a bow the head of the guard answered, Of course my Empress,
the best of them as you commanded.
Bending down to pick up a stake in her
right hand, Aliera looked down at the deadly weapon as she spoke.
Distribute them, every one of our military in the streets, every guardian,
every sentry on the walls, every gate guard, All of them. There will not be
a man or woman that protects these streets that is not bearing at least one
of these, do I make myself clear?
A crisp salute was issued from her
officers before they took at once to the streets, carrying out her wishes
and arming every patrol they passed immediately.

The next step was the water. It was nearly noon now and the sun beat down
on the streets of Althainia as Priests of Light went to each and every home
and store, blessing the water stores or replacing them entirely with holy
water brought in. The Empress herself stood at the fountain in the Temple
complex and dipped her hand into the water, blessing it with All of the
powers of good she could manage. Every drop of water in Althainia would be
blessed, and though the effects of holy water were unclear on these demons,
it could not possibly hurt to try.

Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 23:13:46 2015

Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 18 23:22:00 2015

To Althainia All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Imm RP Nadrik Ulrog

Subject Fighting Back part 4

A brief issue of trumpets sounded at the northern gate, announcing
someone and Aliera smiled, walking from Crown street northward to greet the
King of Shalonesti at the gates. My Speaker, she intoned in Elvish,
greeting her friend and ally in his native tongue. My Empress he answered
in kind, causing a few of her guards as well as a few elves that stood
watching to just stare with their mouths slightly agape as the Speaker of
the Stars and the Empress of Althainia seemed to be more than allies. A
select few however, just managed to suppress a smile before Aliera and
Laendyn changed in demeanor to All business.

Scores of elite Elven guard followed their King and the Empress of Althainia
to the Market Square, joining the gathered Althainian military and guard
alike. The message was straight to the point and spoken in Althainian as
well as Common and Elvish, leaving no room for error. The undead are
hunting these streets and we would see it stopped. Bring us its head.
heads of state watched as new weapons were passed out amongst the Elven
guard and added to their already deadly bows and blades, the vorpal energy
shimmering on each of them before the task was done.

They moved through the city in force, the combined forces of the Imperial
and Vallenwood guard, there would be no peace for the undead in Althainia.

Writer: Vadol

Date Thu Feb 19 01:50:25 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Thu Feb 19 07:47:24 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Thu Feb 19 10:20:18 2015

Writer: Ulrog

Date Thu Feb 19 14:51:58 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part One

Ulrog knelt as he completed his ritual of dripping the blood of his kills
onto the altar of Fatale. The last kill of the Althainian guard had been
his boldest, but he still felt the need to return to the city one last time
to do the Masters work. The Althainians were growing ever more prepared for
his attacks, and any trips now would be a serious danger, but this was his
test, and overcoming the danger as it grew was a part of the task.

He muttered a short prayer to the Master and stood, staring at the stone
altar with its countless dried blood stains. The normally gray hue of the
stone was permanently dyed a ruddy brown, stained with the murders of
generations. He contemplated his final kill, and evaluated how best to
strike a blow at the light. The murder of the citadel guard would be a
nearly impossible kill to best, without putting himself in serious peril.
His actions had incensed the Empress and Emperor, and he was sure that this
would be his most difficult mission yet.

Ulrog had to strike a personal blow against the Empress, something that
would shatter her world and render her a gibbering mess. The foolish woman
was terribly attached to her brood, and although they were heavily guarded,
slaying one of them in the Masters honor would be the greatest deed the
demon could accomplish, short of assassinating the leaders themselves. The
children, squealing leeches All of them, were surrounded by guards and
attendants on the safest of days. Ulrog was sure that with his attacks, a
veritable army would be guarding the children. Nevertheless, the demon had
to try. If this was to be his final blow against the city, he would aim
high and murder the eldest son of the royal family, Nikolai. However, he
was certain that they would be prepared for him, so secrecy was of the
utmost importance. He could not make a sound when he was entering the city,
or he would draw the attention of the city watch. Thus, his plate armor was
the wrong choice for this mission. He unbuckled it and instead donned a
lightly armored leather outfit that would grant him much greater freedom of
movement and silence, if not the same protection.

Turning and leaving the Masters temple, he murmured a short plea to Fatale
to guide his blade and grant his limbs strength in his impossible task. He
used the cover and shadow of the tree line to make his way back to the city,
but when he was perhaps a mile from the city gates, his sharp hearing heard
the crunch of boots on the forest floor, perhaps a dozen men. It seemed the
fools wished to hunt him where he had the advantage in terrain, if not in
numbers, and this was perfectly fine with him. He made his way closer to
the noise and took cover behind the brush perhaps twenty yards from the
search party, unseen to most mortal eyes. It appeared to be the Emperor
himself, along with his personal guard. Interesting that he went himself
beyond the safety of the walls to search, but it meant that the personal
guard around the citadel was also slackened, however slightly.

The demon was confident that he could sneak past the search party unseen,
and took a step to move around their flank. The first step he took, he
noticed Cierans eyes dart in his direction and he held up a hand to his men,
halting them immediately. Damn perceptive human, All that could have been
visible would have been a slight shimmer in the air. The Emperor swiftly
muttered a few words, and a wall of fog curled around him and spread toward
the area the demon was in. Clever tactic. The vapor split around him, and
the empty space of air was All it took to blow the vampires cover. With a
shout, the Emperor hurled his sidearm at the space, but the demon leapt away
with alacrity and sprinted back into the woods, hearing shouts and war cries
behind him. Retreating back to the shadows, he moved around their flank,
hoping to lose the men with his speed and make it appear as though hed moved
away from the city.


Writer: Ulrog

Date Thu Feb 19 14:57:11 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part Two

The demon made his way to the other side of the city, far away from the
sounds of the Emperor and his guard, and evaluated the patch of wall in
front of him. The wall would be no more difficult to scale than on his last
venture into the city, but peering up Ulrog was able to see bright light
coming from the ramparts and the city itself. Judging by the glow, the city
would be lit up like daylight, making it far more difficult to move unseen.
The artificial light would not harm him directly, but it would harm his
chances of secrecy. However, it was irrelevant. His task was All that
mattered. Climbing the wall, the demon peeked over the edge of the
ramparts. Men and elves, hundreds of them, were patrolling the streets and
walls of the city. All of the guards had three things in common, a flask at
their hip, a wooden stake sheathed on their belt, and a sword in their hand,
each one the same. The demon assumed the flask was simply for drinking, but
the blades, those bore a shimmering aura that caused his stomach to lurch,
an odd sensation since the vampire had no need for mortal sustenance
anymore. They were vorpal blades, he was sure of it. He bore an axe with
the same aura around it and was quite familiar with its powers. Those would
be a problem. The stakes could be an issue as well, but only if it were to
pierce his heart.

He sneered. The Althainians were quite prepared, and they had brought in
backup from the elves. That was unexpected, and the demon would have a
difficult, if not impossible time coping with the might of two cities at
once. Even so, he had to make his last foray into the city of light,
whatever the cost. How he wished he could use his axes on this mission, but
he was only armed with the single dagger, as per the instructions of
Syrsaena. It would limit his options in battle severely, but he was under
no illusions that if it came to outright battle with the sort of might he
was seeing, he would lose, no matter what weapons he wielded.

The demon waited until the path was clear, and leaped over the edge of the
rampart, grabbing hold of the other edge of the wall and began his descent,
doing his best to remain silent. He was able to remain unseen, but his body
would still cast a shadow in the bright light that could give away his
position if he was not careful. Quietly landing on the ground below, he
decided that the best way to proceed to the citadel without alerting the
patrols in the street would be to make his way to the center of the city by
sneaking across the roofs of the houses. If the patrols on the wall were to
look inside the city instead of towards the woods, they might spot his
shadow, but the risk was far better than the prospect of being spotted by
one of the street patrols.

Ulrog climbed the nearest home, and silently crept along its roof, leaping
from building to building when he was confident no patrols were near, and
slowly made his way toward the citadel. He was lucky, and his leaps drew no
noticeable attention from either the patrols nor the citizens inside the
buildings. The slow process of waiting and timing his movements took him
the better part of two hours to make the relatively short trip to the keep,
but by the toll of midnight he had made it. Entering through any door was
out of the question, and the children would be on one of the top levels of
the citadel in any case. The best option was to scale the building, and
enter through either a window or an arrow slit high in one of the turrets.
He made his way higher along the wall of the keep, and came to an
appropriate arrow slit. He peered inside, and saw no guards in the
immediate area, so he ducked inside. The demon had no idea exactly where
the children were kept, but he thought it likely that the tallest turret
would house the royal family, and the Empress would never be far away from
her sniveling wretches.


Writer: Ulrog

Date Thu Feb 19 15:03:25 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part Three

Thus, the vampire climbed the tower, ever mindful of the presence of
guards. He had several close encounters, nearly being spotted by both an
elven and human patrol at different times, but managed to remain unseen and
not attract attention. Ulrog reached a landing on the spiraling stone
staircase, and a sound echoed down the corridor, a soft, motherly cooing
sound, and the laughter of a child. Yes, the children were here, but if he
were to make an attempt on one of their lives while the Empress was present,
he would be in for a serious fight, especially when armed only with the
dagger. He crept along the hallway, and came to the closed door where the
sounds were loudest. Was this murder wise, given the circumstances? The
demon was outnumbered, out-armed, and the children were in their mothers
care. He decided it made little difference, he would break down the door,
attempt to do the deed quickly, and escape the city before the warning bells
were rung. After the citadel guard knew his location, stealth was
irrelevant. Escape was the only priority.

Summoning his massive strength, the demon threw himself at the barred door,
cracking its timbers and making an incredibly loud crash. Cover now blown,
the demon smashed the door several more times in quick succession, knocking
the door off its hinges and revealing a startled Aliera and three squealing
children. There were only six guards in the room with them, but the crashes
had drawn attention, and even then the vampire could here the sounds of
booted feet barreling down the hall. The startled expression on Alieras
face only lasted for a moment. The moment the threat became clear, her face
morphed from shock to anger, and she quickly drew her vorpal blade and
readied it at him. Ulrog lunged towards one of the children, but they
retreated behind their mother and she scythed her blade towards him when he
drew close, making him draw back. The guards rushed him, and it was clear
from the aura that their blades were vorpal as well. He stepped to the
side, and attempted to charge the children from the flank, but the Empress
once again stepped in front, swinging her blade at him and clipping his arm.
Blood seeped from the wound, but it was not life threatening. The blades
aura burned him, but he could not be killed by it unless she were to sever
his head.

The Empress called out, "The water! ," And the guards simultaneously drew
the identical flasks Ulrog had observed earlier, and threw the contents in
his direction. The liquid soaked through his clothing and drenched him, but
otherwise did absolutely nothing. The tactic however, did succeed in
surprising the demon. He had no idea what the water was going to
accomplish, but it made him drop his guard for a moment, and that moment was
enough. Aliera, stricken with fear and anger of what the demon had come to
do to her children, drew a wooden stake and lunged forward, aiming for the
center of the demons chest. Unencumbered by armor, the vampire had been
able to move silently, but he was far more open to danger. The point of the
stake pierced his leather shirt and went straight through, exiting out his
back, and staggering him backwards. Pain shot through every nerve in his
body, but the stake had just barely missed his heart, entering perhaps three
inches to the side. Wooden shaft thrust through him, the demon realized
that his time was up, and the choice was now whether to retreat, or be
killed, permanently. Staggering wildly, the demon lurched outside the room,
tripping over the broken door and stumbling down the hall towards the
nearest window. Guards were flooding the hallway, but they were still
several yards behind the vampire. Hurled stakes scored grazing hits or mild
flesh wounds, but none pierced his heart or did damage equal to Alieras.
Reaching the window, Ulrog leapt outward, crashing through the window and
scoring several gashes from the broken glass, and falling several stories to
the ground.


Writer: Ulrog

Date Thu Feb 19 15:09:07 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - Finale Part Four

The impact broke his body, but the fall could not kill him, not like the
vorpal blades or stakes. Groaning and bleeding on the ground, the demon
knew he only had a few moments before the were on him again. He muttered a
healing spell, thanking the Master from the deepest part of himself when
life reentered his limbs. He was hurt, broken, and bleeding from most every
area, but he could move. Ulrog crawled towards the levee, knowing that he
had no prayer of fighting through the guards in the streets and the Emperor
out of the gates in his current condition. The river was his only escape.

He was able to crawl slowly, but he managed to make it to the levee wall.
They would be on him in moments, his blood trail was smeared on the ground
all the way from where he fell to the river. They would know exactly where
he had gone and how he had escaped, but he hoped the rivers current would be
enough to give him a lead enough to escape. This would be his last
assassination in the city of light for quite some time. He was young in his
power, and the city was far greater prepared than normal for his sacrifices.
Future sacrifices would have to be made elsewhere.

Dumping himself into the river, his body floated down the current and out of
the city, washing up on the bank far downriver. Heaving himself into a
shaded grove, the demon melted into the shadows once more, and lied down to
rest and heal his broken body.

Master, this one has failed, the demon said quietly into the air. It hoped
to strike one final blow to the light, but the mortals were prepared far too
well. This ones final sacrifice is its own blood, taken in the service of
the Master and given willingly.

The demon reached a hand up to his chest and wiped away a congealed glob of
blood, and smeared it on the ground. This one is in no condition to
sacrifice its blood on the altar, it hopes the Master hears this ones words,
and accepts the blood this one sacrifices to the ground in His honor.

Groaning and leaning back, the demon finished his prayer and closed his
eyes, beginning the long process of healing his wounds. Alieras stake
wound, however, had formed into a puckered bleeding mess, and no magic the
demon was capable of would likely ever remove the scar that would form.
Releasing himself into oblivion, the vampire slept.


Writer: Aliera

Date Thu Feb 19 16:28:49 2015

To All Althainia New Thalos Shalonesti_Kingdom Imm RP Nadrik Ulrog

Subject Fighting Back part 5

A large assembly of Althainian and Vallenwood guard stood mostly around
the newly shattered decorative glass window, a few marking on the
desperation of the creature to have dove through it. There is no way it
could have lived through that fall.
One of the young sentries, voiced.
Another two of similar age nodded their agreement with the assessment and
then startled at the sound from the windowless room beyond. A barked
command left an entire compliment of guards in the center tower room with
her three youngest children before Aliera snatched up another two stakes
from the chest in the room and walked out the door. The words of the
Empress were soft but seething with anger and an edge of coolness in her
voice as she passed, It has not been alive- for a long time. It took
exactly a fraction of a second for her point to get across and understanding
to dawn on almost All of their faces at once as she took off down towards
the spiraling staircase of the tower with a stake in hand. The combined
forces followed in quick pursuit of the Empress as she ran down the stairs.

The outer base of the Tower was littered with what had been, before it was
shattered, a beautiful scene of the Goddess Kadiya. The variegated pieces
of glass lay mostly shattered in the street, many of the edges and the stone
beneath coated in the unmistakable sight of blood. The urgency of the
moment did not prevent the grisly scene surrounding the Goddess of Peace
from being burned into her mind, but for peace to be restored the terror
this demon was trying to propagate could not continue.

The trail was unmistakable and led straight to the levy it had thrown itself
into the waters below, hoping apparently that the river would be merciful
and sweep him clear of the city. We have permission from the Magistrate of
Thalosia to pursue it there, sweep the city, if it did not manage to crawl
out of the river, he will have landed there. This ends tonight.
on her heel, Aliera stalked away from the levy banks to find her Emperor.

Writer: Cieran

Date Thu Feb 19 17:45:07 2015

Writer: Tatsuo

Date Thu Feb 19 19:26:58 2015

Writer: Asrar

Date Fri Feb 20 16:49:31 2015

To All ( Imm Fatale Religion )

Subject Conviction of Faith

Asrar walks silently into the Hall of Onyx, fighting to control the demon
wanting to take control. Having just fed on some random citizen, it doesn't
take much effort. Walking past the statue without a glance, she walks into
the Obsidian Hall and methodically begins undressing. Ritualisticly
cleansing herself in the fountain, she rids herself of dirt and grime.
Dried blood and sweat mix with the cold water to run down the drain.
Satisfied, she dons a simple acolyte robe, leaving her armor and weapons and
returning to the Onyx Hall.

Kneeling before the statue of Fatale, she bows low, her forhead touching the
chilly tiles as she prays. Master, never before have I come before you
feeling I must confess my service or my faith in You. Yet hear I am,
kneeling before this stone altar, with doubt. Doubt is fear, fear is the
blackness of the Void. There is no room for fear or doubt in the Master's
service. I relinquish my mortal body to your service. Let the demon within
come forth as I give myself totally to you. May this act be pleasing to you

Asrar slumps over convulsing as the demon inside her comes over her, taking
her easily. As the face of the demon pushes against her skin, it morphs her
features until what once was Asrar Miete is barely recognizeable.

Only the Vampire remains. Only the servant of the God of Murder is left.

Writer: Rikam

Date Fri Feb 20 18:21:07 2015

To All ( Verminasia Imm Devion )

Subject -The Shadoweaver-

On a very old chair in a very old cottage between two very old hills sat the
Shadoweaver. Nobody was sure exactly how old the Shadoweaver was,
but she often referred to the ancient epochs of baron red earth and
primordial fire as "the good old days." When asked directly, she would
always say "only slightly older than my teeth, dear" and then carry on
with her weaving. Of course, at her age, she had no teeth to speak of.

Most people who met her were very sure that she was senile.

"Not sure I'll be doing business with him again," said the Shadoweaver
to her empty fireplace. "A bit rude, that boy."

This time it was a pair of gloves. The time before, some boots. He was
never satisfied with her work, and almost never paid, but he was the only
client she had these days. Clothes made out of shadows, it seemed, were
not in terribly high demand.

"More's the pity," the Shadoweaver complained to her fireplace, "But
I suppose fashions will change."

She had finished the gloves by dawn of the next morning, when her client

"Good morning, Grannie," He said with a mean looking smile. She
was sure his teeth were pointed, but never dared to look twice.

"What have you got for me today?"

"I put a curse on those," she said, motioning towards the gloves on her
kitchen table. "As soon as you put one on, you're sure to lose the other."

The client grinned his mean old grin and nodded. "Half a cake is better
than none, hmm? Though equating these to cake might be a bit unfair to
pastries everywhere."

She made a point of cursing every item the client ordered, but she wasn't
sure she was so good at those kinds of things. The client never seemed to
mind, anyway.

"Rubbish, as usual," the client said after inspecting the gloves. "But
I suppose they'll have to do. It's a shame you're the only one who knows
anything about working with shadows these days."

"It's a dying art," she agreed gruffly. "Is that All you'll be needing
today then is it?"

"In such a hurry to be rid of me, grannie? Your hospitality has gotten
terrible in your old age." The client sighed, then continued, "I'll be
having a new cloak, I think. This one's in tatters. I'll give you a month to
have it ready. That should be plenty of time to make sure you get it right."

"A month?" the old woman cried, but the client had already gone. "A
month indeed," she muttered to her empty fireplace, and then she set to work.
"I wonder if that will be enough time to teach the hood to eat its wearer's eyes."

The thought kept her spirits lifted as she worked through the day and into
the following night.

Writer: Nistle

Date Fri Feb 20 21:13:57 2015

To All Conclave New_Thalos Sebatis Religion Imm RP

Subject Sebatis' Gift

Nistle's wings beat furiously as he shot across the desert sands. The
heat didn't bother him to much, it was hot on Tropica, but the dryness still
bothered him. He smacked his lips and made a disgusting noise as he stopped
and looked around before unstoppering the small decanter at his side and
taking a swig.

'Hrm.. There's got to be a good place for it. 'he mused to himself before
he was off again, stoppering the decanter. A few more minutes brought him
to the outskirts of New Thalos.

"The Sultan said he would help find a place. Hrm. Works for me. " he
thought, slipping amongst the shadows of the larger peoples and carts of the
merchant traffic. A single thought kept running through his mind.

'Sebatis will have a temple, damnit. And it'll be a gift to Algoron, just
like me

Writer: Zoranthus

Date Fri Feb 20 23:45:42 2015

To All Conclave Perrinn Atlantos Imm RP

Subject A Study in the Necromantic Arts

As Zoranthus started getting comfortable in his new course of advanced
studies, he called upon a well known ally of the Conclave, Perrinn Aybara.

"Ya wanna help me practice some of this stuff? Zoranthus asked Perrinn.

A slight grin came across Perrinn's face as he started reaching for his
weapons. However, before he could grab them, he found a shovel in his
hands. The grin disappeared.

"To the Cemetary, I need practice instruments! " Zoranthus says to Perrinn
with wide crazy eyes.

Perrinn begrudgingly agrees, saying "Fine, I get your first dracolich,

With that, Perrinn and Zoranthus proceed to the closest cemetary to start
wantonly excavating cadavers in order for Zoranthus to begin practicing
animating the dead.

Writer: Nistle

Date Sat Feb 21 10:31:57 2015

To All Conclave New_Thalos Sebatis Religion Imm RP

Subject Sebatis' Gift : Part 2 : The Searchening

Nistle stood on the chair, pacing around in a tight circle, his wings
giving an irritable flutter every few steps.

Where ARE his priests? That damn dwarf went off somewhere and that was the
only one I ever saw.

Furious, Nistle flitted off of the chair and buzzed around the bookcases,
his fingers skimming the titles of the tomes that weighted it down.

There has to be some of his tenants here. Something that I can use to get
the priesthood back on its feet. Lazy bastards!

Fed up when the search returned nothing, Nistle sighed, slumping his
shoulders. 'I just wanted to do something nice for him. After all, he gave
Algoron me.

Sebatis help me...where are your damned priests'

Writer: Nistle

Date Mon Feb 23 01:22:03 2015

To All Conlcave Antalya New_Thalos Sebatis Religion Imm RP

Subject Sebatis' Gift : Part 3 : The Priesterly Meeting

Nistled flitted about the laboratory absentmindedly, his thoughts
flitting through his brain as fast his wings beat the air. He didn't even
notice that his test subject had come back from the brink and was now
yelling through the gag.

So, there is a priest. An actually priest priest. I was hoping for more...
But maybe this will help the old stiff get promoted, then the gift could be

Sighing, Nistle finally noticed the subject and frowned, tapping his lips
with a gloved hand.

No.. The potion just was not strong enough.. But which part was it? '

On the table the subject screamed and tried to escape from the restraints,
its massive muscles straining at the shackles holding it down.

Ah.. More of Chemical-N should do it. '

While he mixed the vials again Nistle lost himself in thought again. The
priest didn't seem All that interested after all. He was more interested in
going and fighting. Which was alright, but that was not what Nistle was
needing right now.

Sighing, once more, Nistle turned to his subject and opened the tip of the
tube, pouring the vial into it, watching as it slowly drained into the
subjects chest.

Now now, you are furthering an important study. ' Nistle mused as he stood
back and crossed his arms, watching as the formula began its work.

Writer: Pukje

Date Mon Feb 23 13:25:08 2015

To All Conclave Perrinn Atlantos IMM RP

Subject The Art of Killing

"Put that shovel down!" Pukje said tersely. "What sort of work have
they been giving you?!"

The angry Pixie hovered around Perrinn, considering him from different
angles, his wings a translucent blur.

"No, today we shall be making things dead, dead, and more dead until I'm
satisfied and All of these.." Pukje held up and small book crackling with
energy and continued, "Are firmly fixed and available to these!!" As he
waggled the fingers on his free hand.

"Oh how I would love to lash you into oblivion pixie..." Perrinn retorted
half heartedly.

"What, what, what? Actually, forget it... We have important work to do!
Insolence is a lesson for another day!"

Writer: Elathan

Date Mon Feb 23 21:45:43 2015

To All Shadow Necrucifer Imm religion roleplay

Subject A Time of Meditation

Elathan sat cross legged on the cool ground, his eyes closed, in a
relaxed position. In the dark and isolation he attempted to empty his mind
of the usual activity. Trying to focus on the void and emptiness that lay
within. He had been taught this technique by the Bishop Fel.

Thoughts entered his mind regardless and he would capture them, thinking on
their source and what fueled them and then let them go. Flashes of anger,
pride, grief, regret, passion, zeal, All with unique points of origin and
all directed in different places.

He would focus on these thoughts as they came. Learn from them. Use what
he could to better himself or channel them to more useful places then let
them go. Returning his mind to emptiness. To peace. He knew the error of
his ways and the emotions that went with those errors.

They would return from time to time but he recognized them for what they
were and he had learned how to repurpose those emotions into something

No longer would he be ruled by stubborness or emotions that only served to
do him harm. He would master them so that those thoughts might never again
escape his lips or take root in his mind. He would learn from them and
their various sources and use them to become better.

However long it took. He would not allow his emotions to dictate his
actions again. One who follows the heart finds it will bleed. He knew this
better than ever.

And so he sat in the dark and emptied his mind. Focusing those thoughts
that entered towards the Prophecy and how he could still be of use.

Writer: Thaydius

Date Tue Feb 24 00:23:41 2015

To All ( Religion Siccara Imm )

Subject Work to be done

The innards of Kadiya's Church were set to glow with a sway of
yellow-tinged light painted by sincere artistry and solemn spirits. Even in
this late hour, days after the holiday, a small group of people remained to
pray and remember the Goddess who had given everything she had for this
world. The mortals were shadows to Thaydius. He could see the golden light
within them. He could see their eyes and their hearts. And he could see
her. Like a sun in the center of the room, bright enough to keep the
hopeful observers safe from any kind of darkness here in her home, long
after she was gone.

Kadiya was always a giver. That was who she was, from the time she was born
to the time that she died. It was never more apparent to Thaydius than it
was now. And these people knew that. They did not look to her because she
was a giver, and she was not a giver so that they would look to her. She
trusted them. They trusted her. It was an important distinction of the
Light. They left their requests because it was her life's work to grant
them. It was neither duty nor obligation.

Thaydius collected hundreds of tiny sheets of parchment from the temple. He
had heard these people committing prayers to paper over the several days of
observance. As he had explained to the newest of the Silver Wing very
recently, he was not a god. Thaydius was nothing compared to a god, but he
was connected to All of them. And he could hear the people. He could feel
them. It was this connection to them that made him love them. They were
revealed to him, raw and without guile. Beneath All of the armors and
social constructs that mortals build around themselves, deep inside them
they were much simpler than they let one another know. And it was this
simplicity that they used to pray and to speak with his family. To speak
with him, too.

He started to look over the tiny slips, hearing and seeing the people who
had committed their wishes to the temple's open arms. I wish dad could work
again. Mom is so lonely. I don't want Bessup to die. I hope we have
enough food for winter. The voices washed over Thaydius, their simple
desires and honest requests pushing his divine blood through his veins like

Focusing on the lives and lifestyles of Algoron's elite citizenry had
narrowed his perspective. But his eyes were open. His ears were open. He
focused on a single slip written by a young girl wishing her leg would get
better. Thaydius looked off into the distance, sifting through the hundreds
of thousands of golden auras and setting his focus onto one in particular.
With a light gesture of his free hand, he warped through the fabric of space
and set to work giving to these people. It was what Kadiya would have done,
if she could have been here. So now it was up to him.

Writer: Nymaya

Date Tue Feb 24 00:53:24 2015

To All Verminasia Reklah Ashtiel

Subject Iagothal: A New Menace (1/4)

The pungent scent of blood and animal stink filled the air, metallic and
sharp. It was strong enough to unsettle even her battle trained steed. She
could feel the horse shift beneath her, its muscles twitching as it waited
for her next command. She'd have thought the behavior odd but the animal
stench was strange - nothing she had ever smelled before.

Her breath misted in the still air. The evening was bitingly cold and had
it not been for the grizzly business displayed before her, she would have
been indoors, coiled before a warm fire. Impatient to be home now, her
thoughts turning ever toward her husband's impending return, she angled her
cold blue gaze down on the sickening display spread out over the ground and
set her distractions aside.

The patrol, indicated only by a few fragments of armor and the Kayen sigil
on bits of blood-soaked tunics and cloaks, had been ripped apart until
nothing remained of the people they had once been. The light of the stars
cast the scene before her in a pale silvered hue and pushing back her deep
fur-lined cowl she took note that none of the gore had been eaten. No,
something angry had torn these men apart. Something enraged, very powerful
and perhaps not natural.

The silence seemed heavier, more threatening, for the thought and her horse
shifted again while its ears swivelled at the thick darkness in the looming
trees. The sense that the beast lurked nearby was certain but she
hesitated, her gaze roaming southward. The boarder of Iagothal was near
enough and the creature's trail clear enough that it was obvious it had come
from outside the province.

Starlight glimmered pale on silver hair as she shifted the horse around to
the north-west with a flexing of her legs. The crunch of brittle sticks and
leaves sounded, the soft snort of the gelding followed and slowly, she
reached back to draw the sword at her left shoulder. The folded steel of
the elven blade hissed as it left the sheath and as the tip cleared, the
whisper of a forbidden melody lifted into the frosted night. She spun the
blade easily in her grasp once, sending a hollow threatening metallic
whistle forth and willed herself to ignore the Haunt.

If she had calculated right, the beast's angle would take it deeper into
populated farmland and one of the province's bustling market towns. She
couldn't let that happen.

A glance back the way she'd come made her pause. Another patrol was to
follow her out here, to aid in the investigation but in the half hour she'd
taken to observe the mauled patrol and the area nearby there'd been neither
sign nor sound that they were remotely close. She saw no torch or lantern
light back the way she had come, there was only the thick silence and as her
gaze returned to the broken path the beast had left, she knew she couldn't
wait. It was moving fast.


Writer: Nymaya

Date Tue Feb 24 01:48:30 2015

To All Verminasia Reklah Ashtiel

Subject Iagothal: A New Menace (2/4)

With the barest pressure of her heels against the gelding's flanks, the
horse nudged forward and they began to follow a barren game trail that ran
parallel to the creature's path.

Over the sound of the horse picking its way through the brush she listened,
casting her senses out. The darkness was more complete beneath the trees
but she could still sense it moving, its bulk and strangeness impossible for
her not to notice. Occasional splashes and droplets of blood dotted the
ground, drawing her gaze unerringly. She was certain anyone could have
followed its sloppy and destructive trail.

She heeded every warning the horse lent along the way but in the long hour
that passed, nothing attacked and the trail changed disturbingly. The
broken trees and limbs disappeared upward, drawing her gaze to the sky. It
could... fly? A wry quirk of her lips belied annoyance with this newest
occurrence. She didn't slow in its wake though, still drawn on by the blood
trail and the stench - she didn't carry a bow and quiver full of arrows for
the cosmetic appeal.

Rapidly going over new tactics, the edge of the forest rose up ahead. The
gelding didn't need to be stopped, it paused of its own accord just past the
break and stomped at the ground with a snort of warning. They'd caught up
with it.

The urge to dismount settled on her but even as muscles tightened toward
that motion, she stopped cold - heeding a gut instinct. A sound buzzed by
her ear. Insect? The season was entirely wrong for insects. Alarms began
to sound within as a veritable swarm of flies engulfed them, biting flesh
wherever it was bared. The horse swiveled its ears and flicked its tail,
snorting and shaking its head as it grew more annoyed by the second.
Ignoring the flies, she slipped down from the saddle deftly and made a
cautious trek further into the clearing. An icy lake lay lower along the
countryside and in the far distance the shadow of mountains arose into the
starry night sky. It was while she gazed toward those majestic peaks that a
dark blot caught her attention. It weaved through the sky, blackening the
stars. Its shape reminded her eerily of the lesser demons she had seen from
afar, even down to the flexing of its massive wingspan.

Disturbed by its appearance and somewhat concerned that it might, in fact,
be a legitimate demon she hesitated in her reach for the strung bow at her
shoulder, drawn instead to watch the creature. She was, thus, not taken by
surprise when she realized that its shape was falling fast - directly toward
her. It had drawn its wings in and was diving through the frigid air,
outstretched claws reaching forward.


Writer: Nymaya

Date Tue Feb 24 02:16:29 2015

To All Verminasia Reklah Ashtiel

Subject Iagothal: A New Menace (3/4)

She had time to react, though not to shoot it. The snap of its wings
splintered the air above her as she hit the ground and rolled away but into
the charged atmosphere followed an enraged roar. She was up and crouched
defensively by the time it touched the ground with its taloned feet and
turned its bulk toward her. Its evil, slanted gaze was a malevolent amber
and glowed with the depth of its animosity. It easily towered over her and
its body was broad, bulky. A mix of scaled black flesh and blood, with
tufts of indistinguishable fur along its arms, legs and middle. It flexed
impressive claws at the ends of thickly coiled arms that could clearly rip
men in half. Likewise, its legs crouched over wicked black talons and a
pair of bat-like wings stretched out over its back. Vapor slipped between
the fangs of its gruesome grin and then it came at her with a howl that set
the fine hairs at the back of her neck on end.

The face that snapped at her was bestial, more demonic than animal in the
darkness but she rolled away once again. Her sword sang in the same
instance, leaving a wound along the creature's outstretched arm and sending
the unique aroma of its blood to join the stink. It barely seemed to notice
the wound and its claws caught her cloak, leaving long ripped rents in the
durable fabric.

Without breaking stride she unclasped the garment while circling around the
clearing with the beast who followed in stride though she was given the
impression that it quivered with anticipation. It wouldn't be long before
it attacked again. Base instinct would work against it but until she
witnessed it further, she was at a disadvantage.

The next attack was surprisingly fast. Faster than she had anticipated as
its bulk shot toward her in an unnatural glide but in the seconds between,
she took stock of its openings and determined that she could cripple it,
perhaps kill it outright, but only if she took the hit.

The split-second decision made, she committed to the act but even in the
doing so the ground began to shake to the thunder of hooves. She had to
twist wildly, gracelessly, to get out of the way but the beast, trapped in
its initial rush, was caught by the tip of a lance and sent tumbling by a
shattering impact. She watched with a certain satisfaction, sprawled as she
was in the snow, as its crumpled body came to a rolling stop and ceased to
move some distance away before finally turning her attention to the horse
and rider.

He was heavily cloaked and even then tugging on the reigns of his
nightmarish steed to turn it around. Silhouetted by the stars and the night
sky the unholy creature tossed its head haughtily and turned toward her,
guided by a steady hand. She rose up from the ground sword still to hand
and, taking no heed of the snow caked along her side, met the advance.

"Are you alright?" Mildly spoken. Had her husband been concerned? The
thought made her curious but she responded to the query.

"I am uninjured. I had its trail. If I'd waited, we would have lost it in
the night sky and it might have reached the farmsteads or the town." She
made a gesture toward its crumpled body, which he turned to observe now.


Writer: Nymaya

Date Tue Feb 24 02:43:28 2015

To All Verminasia Reklah Ashtiel

Subject Iagothal: A New Menace (4/4)

In the silence that fell between them, he shifted his armored weight and
dismounted. The lance he left couched with the unholy steed but the smooth
sound of metal announced the drawing of his blade and they both made their
way to the side of the unmoving beast.

"Do you know what it is?" He asked, his sword point drawing one of its
crippled wings outward.

She shook her head slowly and remarked, "I've been to every end of Algoron,
studied more creatures than most but this - no. It looks..."

"Twisted and demonic." He finished in a low tone, which had her nodding in

The flies that had swarmed her and her steed earlier continued to make a
nuisance of themselves but appeared largely confined to the body of the
beast now. An interesting development she found herself contemplating but
one without answers as long as the origin of the creature remained a

"There have been enough events of recent to warrant new creatures emerging."
The tone made his words sound more like a suggestion but it stood to

The stillness of the night was abruptly broken by the sound of many horses
and voices. The patrol. They both turned as lantern light fell over the
clearing and a dozen men dressed and armored in Kayen livery rode in from
the forest.

She called to her steed as Reklah began issuing orders to the men at arms.
The query of the strange beast would be answered but not this night. It was
late and there was little more that could be done until the body could be
seen in light.

With the rush of adrenalin gone, the deep chill of winter's evening became
more apparent and she couldn't restrain the shiver that took her while she
brushed a hand gently over the insect bites that riddled her steed. It
brought her thoughts around to the rent cloak she had discarded for the
brief battle but before she could turn to find it, his hands slid the
familiar weight of it back over her shoulders. He clasped the fabric back
in place and set a kiss to her cheek while she reached up to brush her
fingers affectionately over his hand.

"You read my mind." She said with a smile, turning to regard him.

"Maybe." He replied with an amused twist of his lips. "Let us return now."


Writer: Zola

Date Tue Feb 24 03:28:55 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Fatale

Subject X Dark Virtue - Creativity X


One of Fatales most important virtues, a trait All of his truly faithful
strived for. Right now, Zola was doing his utmost to follow such as he
studied his enemy.

The dragon wasn't very old, it seemed to be little more than an overgrown
hatchling in many ways, and it was painfully nave. Either abandoned or
having struck out on his own, this little wyrm was off in the
wilderness all
by itself, part of no great flight. Even so, Zola could not engage the
creature All by himself. The dragons hide was harder than steel, its breath
was death, its strength tenfold his own. Fatale
might welcome his embracing
death, but that did not mean he should blindly rush towards it with no
purpose in mind.

He could have called on his comrades in the Dungeon to storm the creatures
den and impale it on spears. Or made arrangements with Sindraste or Ulrog,
children of death that they were, to sneak in and drain the beast
dry. But
no. Fatale understood a need for wolves to fight in a pack, but at the end
of the day, his rewards were given to the one who committed the finishing

No, this called for Creativity.

So he planned, and he plotted. Fatale cited survival of the strongest, but
strength was not measured simply by raw power. Cunning and subterfuge were
equally valid weapons to employ against a stronger
enemy. Psychological
warfare was a truly refined art, if one knew how to employ it.

And so it was Zola researched a rare poison that affected dragons, coated
the fur of captured animals with it, and set them loose in the forest
whenever the dragon ventured out to eat. In a matter of
days, the beast was
in agony, its mind turned against it, playing tricks on it. It saw shadows
and flame everywhere it went, and it died frightened and alone, never even
seeing the scythe that sliced
through the air and then its vulnerable neck,
severing its throat and letting its blood spill over the floor of its cave.

Extinguishing the flames of his scythe, Zola stared impassionately at the
fallen dragon. It would receive no proper funeral, no dignified burial, not
even a prayer to its Gods of Lights. Its body would serve
the darkness
instead. With a sweeping gesture of his hand, Zola called forth the hunters
he'd hired, bidding them skin the beast and take everything of value.
Dragonbones, dragonclaws, dragonteeth, and especially
dragonskin. The meat
was foul, they would leave it behind to rot. Or else poison any animal
stupid enough to consume it.

The weak and foolish had no right to live.

Finally, the task was done, and Zola waved his arm again, bidding the
hunters follow him as they departed the dragons cave, dragging their
trophies along with them. Sadly, the creature was too young to have
a hoard
of any substance, but a few diamonds might be gleaned from its contents.
They would go to the Church of Fatale. The bones would be given to the
Dungeon, to be made into weapons and tools of great
strength and resiliency.
But the true prize he kept to himself.

Zola had his dragonskins. Now to find himself a tailor...

Writer: Zola

Date Tue Feb 24 03:29:23 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Fatale

Subject X Dark Virtue - Preparation X


One of Fatales most important virtues, a trait All of his truly faithful
strived for. Right now, Zola was doing his utmost to follow such as he
studied his objective.

The forest grove was in a more remote part of the woodlands on the Arversia
Continent, though it was rarely patrolled by any of the great
Pine trees grew in great abundance and of enormous size, perfect for his

It may have been easier to seek out the logs he needed directly from a
professional lumberjack, like the Listers, but Zola found this course of
action would be much, much more
satisfaction. Hiring woodcutters of dark
intent and simple earnings, he'd unleashed them upon the grove. They would
cut down thirteen mighty pine trees. And the rest they would burn to the
ground. It would not go unnoticed by the trees protectors, however.

This called for Preparation.

So it was, when the first dryad came storming into the grove, demanding Zola
and his men put an end to their madness, they failed to notice the hour of
the early evening, or the moon rising in the sky above.

Nor did they notice a pale dwarf slide out of the shadows as if he was made
of them, not until they had latched onto the dryad's body and dug sharp
teeth into their neck. They
could not see their attacker, they only felt a
terrible pain, their last image of Zola's plague doctor mask as the world
grew dark forever.

Thanking their protector Ulrog, Zola urged his woodcutters on, setting a
nearby sapling ablaze to speed their progress along. In mere hours the
grove was stripped, the
tree trunks lashed to oxen that carried them away,
leaving behind only burnt saplings and a raging fire that would burn itself
out in due time. The air would be thick with smoke and ash for days to

With All of these pine logs, Zola would soon have quite a few pine boards in
his possession. And then, he could begin work on pine boxes... And what to
fill them with...

Writer: Zola

Date Tue Feb 24 03:31:10 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Fatale

Subject X Dark Virtue - Acceptance X


One of Fatales most important virtues, a trait All of his truly faithful
strived for. Right now, Zola was doing his utmost to follow such as he
studied his victim.

He was almost in his forties now, though he looked far older, his body
emanciated and painfully thin, his hair graying from stress and lack of
nutrition. He wore the
dull gray smock of a prisoner, and considering he
was in a prison, it was an appropriate fashion statement.

Zola didn't bother to remember his name.

Thirteen years ago, he'd been an up and rising citizen of Abaddon. But in a
fit of madness, he'd attempted to commit the ultimate sin against Lord
Fatale, and commit suicide. Count Deccan and
Zola had prevented this, and
found a suitable, fitting punishment for him instead. He'd been forced to

Thirteen years imprisoned in an Abaddonian dungeon. Solitary confinement.
Force-fed food whether he was hungry or not. Given no opportunity to end
his life, always under constant
watch. He'd begged, he'd pleaded, he'd
cried, wanting to die. He'd finally gone into a catatonic state,
unresponsive to outside stimuli.

He was ready. He had accepted his death as inevitable. But now he also
understood the futility of denying Lord Fatale his murder.

Nodding to the Count, who stood watch at the entrance to the jail, the door
was opened, and Zola stepped inside. The prisoner looked up fearfully at
the spectre of death that loomed over him.

But Zola only dropped a dagger in the middle of the room, and stepped aside,
leaving the doorway open. Count Deccan did likewise. This was the
prisoner's final
punishment, and his last chance at redemption in the eyes
of his deity.

His eyes darted left and right. For a moment, he wavered, tempted to point
the knife at his throat and end it. But with a mighty, wordless wail of
rage, he instead
charged the doors and the guards. They intercepted him,
impaling him on their spears, so violently the bloody tips erupted out of
his blood, splattering the red fluid over Zola's robes
and mask. Without
flinching, the hooded priest side-stepped the dying man to reclaim his
dagger, showing it to the prisoner as he held it up in both hands.

The dagger snapped like a twig, revealing its wooden nature and dull edge.
It couldn't have slain a kitten. It was a childrens toy at best.

The follower had chosen correctly, and Zola passed his hands over the man's
face as his soul departed for the void. He would
not be warmly welcomed by
the Lord of Murder, but no longer was he condemned to suffer. At the end,
he had chosen correctly.

Chosen to be killed rather than simply to die.

Writer: Zola

Date Tue Feb 24 03:33:01 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Fatale

Subject X Dark Virtue - Patience X


One of Fatales most important virtues, a trait All of his truly faithful
strived for. Right now, Zola was doing his utmost to follow such as he
studied his guests.

Rohesia, Ghede of Abaddon, was a lovely young woman with raven-black hair
and skin untouched by the sun, looking positively alluring in the dim light
of the Midnight Grove of
Eclipse. By contrast, her elven friend was tanned
and blonde-haired with the brightest blue eyes and the most naive of smiles.

She thought she was safe here. How very wrong she was.

Rohesia had been preparing this one a long time. Softening her up, getting
inside her guard, subtly preparing her as a sacrifice. True, Abaddon had
many sacrifices
of the course of the average week. And elves were a
particularly hated group because of the invasion years back. But dragging
them kicking and screaming to their death
could lose its appeal over time.
No, this one would be different.

Reaching into a basket on the ground, Zola drew out a rare Abaddonian swamp
viper. Notoriously lethal, very quick, and equally patient creatures. They
could sit still for days on end until
prey wandered close enough for their
deadly bite.

He showed the snake first to the elven girl, watching her eyes grow fearful
as he described just how terrible a creature it was. The scent of her fear
filled the grove, making ravens caw up in the
trees. He then passed the
viper, very cautiously, over to Rohesia, who held it by its neck, letting
the long, multicolored serpent coil around her wrist. Her other hand
on the elf girls shoulders, promising her it would be over soon.

And so it would be.

Without warning Rohesia lunged, the viper's teeth sinking into the elven
girl's shoulder deep enough to penetrate bone, injecting its terrible toxin
into her
bloodstream. Within minutes she couldn't breath, and seconds later
she collapsed under her own weight onto the dark grass. Rohesia giggled as
she slipped the
viper back into its basket. The sacrifice could only wonder
why. Why she had been betrayed by such a good friend. Why she was being
hurt for having done nothing. But
that was precisely the point. She was an
innocent, untouched by death, and thus unworthy to live. And Rohesia had
never been her friend. She
had been prepared for this a very long time.
But tonight their patience would pay off in a glorious sacrifice to the Lord
of Murder.

Watching the girl writhe in agony, Zola slipped off his ever-present mask,
allowing Rohesia to see the man behind it. Their lips met as the girl, one
of the only others
to ever see his face, quickly took the knowledge of it
with her to the grave.

Writer: Ulrog

Date Tue Feb 24 17:12:57 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - A Slow Recovery

Ulrog reclined against the cold stone of the tunnels, still sore from his
wound at Alieras hand. The injury itself had sealed, but the demons pale
flesh remained scarred and puckered several inches to the side of his heart.
He knew instinctively that such a grievous wound, so near his heart, was
unlikely to ever fully heal. The anger and rage at his failure flared, and
he reflected on the events that brought him to this place, and the new task
he was set to do.


After leaping from the citadel window, horribly wounded by the Empress, he
had followed the river for a time, then fled into the city of New Thalos.
Attempting to remain unseen, but more conspicuous due to his injuries, the
demon limped into the tunnels underneath the city, hoping to remain hidden
for a time and heal his injuries. He ruminated on his failure, resting in
the darkness, and discussed his coming tasks and challenges with the White,
Syrsaena. His failure to kill the Empress's child on his last mission would
be avenged. The Masters salvation came to all, willing or not, with time
and patience.

For now, he would find a new target, he was not yet sure who, and kill them
with his bare hands. The White bade him to eschew All weapons, and find
someone prominent for the light to sacrifice. His or her entire corpse
would be burned on the Masters altar, in the presence of His church and
followers, and All would come to know His salvation.


This new task was a heavy burden, and the White had not given the demon any
thoughts at All on who he might choose to slaughter. The choice was his,
and the choice itself was perhaps as much of a test as the act of killing.
Ulrog decided he would wait, and let the opportunity arise. Patience was a
tenet of the Master, and the vampire was confident that the correct choice
for his sacrifice would reveal itself in due time.

Writer: Biem

Date Tue Feb 24 17:58:54 2015

Writer: Ferg

Date Tue Feb 24 22:04:57 2015

Writer: Ferg

Date Tue Feb 24 22:17:49 2015

Writer: Azheri

Date Tue Feb 24 22:31:06 2015

Writer: Azheri

Date Tue Feb 24 23:09:46 2015

Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 25 14:13:10 2015

To All Althainia Shalonesti_Kingdom Imm RP Nadrik Ulrog

Subject Seeking Demons

Aliera read over the letter twice before glancing up at Lashion, the
Captain of her City Guard. He had known her as a child, a teenager, Regent
and now as the Empress. We need to check on this, the couple is suspected
to have harbored that monster.
The older man nodded and assembled the
guard. Before the Empress addressed them. The Emperor has taken his guard
with him, The Royal Guardians and Protectors will stay with the children...
A level gaze from the Empress insured the Guardians of just how serious she
was before she mounted up onto her horse and took a small compliment of the
city guard with her, leaving most along with the lingering Elven force, to
watch over Althainia.

The information led them to a small house on the edge of the Empire, far
from the typical rounds of the guards, but not quite in the insufferable
desert surrounding Thalosia. The couple within tugged at Alieras heart.
While the Empress had grown up in the Palace of Althainia, these people were
scratching out a living on the edge of her Empire, and she did not even
know. They were guilty of being poor, in judgment as well as money perhaps,
but there was nothing sinister about them. The visit ended with a promise
from the Empress for aid in exchange for work, and the information she was
most seeking. He was seen entering the tunnels under Thalos. With her
guards and the blessing of the Thalosian Crown, the Empress went hunting.

Writer: Ulrog

Date Wed Feb 25 15:21:05 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - The Bloody Meeting (Part One)

Ulrog awoke from his healing trance as the sounds of boots echoed around
the tunnels beneath New Thalos. Peering up, he spotted the Empress of
Althainia herself, surrounded with a retinue of a half dozen guards.
Scrambling backwards, he sized up the guards. They were armored, but there
were open spaces at the joints and neck where he could strike bare flash,
and armed with blades. Aliera wore a sword at her side, and carried a
glowing ball of light to reveal the vampire in the darkness.

The Empress cried out when she spotted the vampire, 'They were right! '

Darting backwards, the demon growled softly and melted into the shadows,
'This one is pleased she discovered it in the darkness.. '

'Spread out! He cannot be far! ' Aliera called to her guards, peering
around the tunnels for the near invisible vampire.

Ulrog crept at the edge of the Empresss light, watching as the guards broke
formation to spread and search for him, making them excellent targets. Only
one guard remained next to Aliera, obviously the Captain, with gilded armor
and a cloak denoting his station. Unseen, Ulrog darted around the group,
assassinating each guard in turn with quick, unarmed, flurries of strikes to
their unprotected necks.

Fear flashed in Alieras eyes as she watched each of her guards fall, and she
and the Captain back up slowly.

'Foolish, foolish girl. She has stepped into this one's place of power. '
The demon cackled from the darkness.

'Lashion, we need to leave... He is not as weak as we have been led to
believe" Aliera said to the Captain.

Limping, Ulrog emerged from the shadows, stepping into the glow of the ball
of light Aliera still held. He cackled, 'Yes, this one is weak, but it has
far more power than her forces individually, especially in this place, which
she so invitingly wandered into"

Aliera edged backwards, dropping her ball of light and drawing her sword as
Ulrog edged nearer. In his focus on the Empress, Ulrog did not notice the
Captain slip from view, edging around and hoping to catch the demon unawares
from behind.

'I am not afraid of you... You are a demon and an unholy thing, but I am
not afraid."

'And that, Empress. Has been her undoing. This one remains weak, but it is
sure that the blood of the Empress of Althainia would speed its recovery"
The demon chuckled softly.


Writer: Ulrog

Date Wed Feb 25 15:29:46 2015

To All Bloodlust Althainia Fatale Imm RP

Subject A Sacrifice of Blood - The Bloody Meeting (Part Two)

Aliera trembled slightly against the wall, and made the fatal error of
darting her eyes behind the demon towards the Captain. Catching her slip
and whirling around, Ulrog caught the Captain by the throat just as he was
beginning to lunge towards him. Squeezing his windpipe, Ulrog stared at the
Captain with his glowing red eyes, growling his words in a menacing tone,
"What did he hear the Empress call him earlier? Lashion? He will have the
great honor of being burned upon the Masters altar soon, and the Empress
will have the great pleasure of watching him die"

Aliera started towards them with her blade ready, calling out, 'No! ', but
she was far too late. The demons eyes flared and he squeezed his hand
tighter around the Captains neck. The Captain began to gurgle, and steam
started to pour off his body as his flesh started to turn a red hue. Veins
in the mans eyes burst and popped and the mans blood began to boil inside
him, and the demon hurled the dead mans body against the wall, cracking his
bones against the stones as Alieras howl of horror echoed in the chamber.
She charged towards him, swinging her blade wildly.

Ulrog ducked out of the way of the Empress's blade, and cackled as he melted
once more into shadow, watching the distraught and maddened Empress charging
around him. 'And now... Now her friends are dead. What will she do now?
' Ulrog called to her, the sneer evident in his voice.

Voice trembling slightly, Aliera replied, "She will fight the demon, she is
a Priestess of Honor, of Goodness, of Light"

She searched for the wall behind her once again, desperate to have one safe
side now that she was All alone.

The demon stepped into the light once more, abandoning All secrecy.
"Indeed... This one will not kill her for her foolishness.. Her death will
come in time. This one will make an example of her... And grant her the
honor of speeding this ones recovery with her blood. It is a great honor,
she should be proud."

Aliera growled, and softly said, 'Never.. '

Ulrog snarled, and his demonic appearance began to take shape, fangs
elongating in his mouth, and he lunged towards the Empress, knocking away
her pathetic resistance and sinking his teeth into her neck. Strength
rushed into the vampires limbs as her body slowly drained of blood, and he
dropped her limp form to the ground after she lost consciousness.

Kicking her body once, the vampire paced over towards the Captains broken
corpse and gathered it up, dragging the bloody body away from the tunnels to
get embalmed, in preparation for the sacrificial ceremony to come. Such a
prominent kill, and such a close friend of the Empresss would be a fine
sacrifice for the Master. The demon prayed his Master would be well

Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 25 17:30:52 2015

To All Althainia Shalonesti_Kingdom Imm Rp Nadrik Ulrog New_Thalos

Subject Seeking Demons part 2

The tunnels beneath New Thalos were confusing, and as soon as Aliera and
gone underground she became disoriented, losing her bearings on the streets
above. The Guards came before and after her, Lashion at the rear and making
sure they were not followed, he was the last into the tunnels. Summoning a
ball of light to her ball, the Empress sought to alleviate the heavy
darkness, revealing a scrambling vampire. They were right! Aliera cried
out in almost complete surprise. They had come searching for him but she
had never expected to find him, let alone almost trip over him.

The vampire took advantage of the surroundings and the dark almost
immediately, melting from sight as he taunted her from the shadows 'This one
is pleased she discovered it in the darkness..
' a shudder ran down her
spine at the words as she ordered the guard to find him, Spread out! He
cannot be far!
The darkness was suffocating thick and the demon stalked
the edge of it, taking out her guards before her eyes.

Aliera reached out with her mind, alerting briefly to the danger before fear
crept in and started to take over. Speaking softly to her captain she
started to back towards the unseen wall behind her 'Lashion, we need to
leave... He is not as weak as we have been led to believe.
They would be
the last words she spoke to her Captain. The demon stepped into the circle
of light the ball was bathing her in, fully into view as it spoke in a voice
that made her skin crawl. Yes, this one is weak, but it has far more power
than her forces individually, especially in this place, which she so
invitingly wandered into"

Writer: Aliera

Date Wed Feb 25 17:35:07 2015

To All Althainia Shalonesti_Kingdom Imm RP Nadrik Ulrog New_Thalos

Subject Seeking Demons part 3

Dropping her ball of light, the Empress drew her sword and drew on her
courage, and her faith. 'I am not afraid of you... You are a demon and an
unholy thing, but I am not afraid.
The exchange of words gave a brief
opening, in which the forgotten Captain moved behind his intended target
while the demon delivered another threat. And that, Empress. Has been her
undoing. This one remains weak, but it is sure that the blood of the
Empress of Althainia would speed its recovery
" Seeing the flash of blade
behind the vampire, Alieras sight was caught for just an instant, and it
would prove the death of her Captain.

The creatures words rang in her ears, , "What did he hear the Empress call
him earlier? Lashion? He will have the great honor of being burned upon
the Masters altar soon, and the Empress will have the great pleasure of
watching him die"
and by the time she could move, he was already dead.
Aliera screamed as she lunged at Ulrog the sickening thud of a body hitting
the ground heard amid her echo.

'And now... Now her friends are dead. What will she do now? The mockery
in his voice angered her, the truth it cut her to the quick and she stood on
the only thing she had at her disposal, who she was. "She will fight the
demon, she is a Priestess of Honor, of Goodness, of Light
" even she could
hear the trembling in her voice, the fear edging it as the worst possible
things flashed through her mind.

Backing up again, she sought the safety of the wall, recalling in the back
of her mind the training she had watched guards go through time and time
again, to always have one safe side to work from. Her fingertips just
scraped the surface as the vampire spoke again, "Indeed... This one will
not kill her for her foolishness.. Her death will come in time. This one
will make an example of her... And grant her the honor of speeding this
ones recovery with her blood. It is a great honor, she should be proud.
The word Honor on the lips of the demon spurred her like she had been

A growl escaped her in response and she willed her body to move, refuse what
the monster was seeking as the word left her lips, Never The snarl was the
last thing she heard as the teeth of the vampire were bared and he buried
his fangs into her neck, stealing the force of life from her and healing
before dropping her unconscious body to the floor. The Empress of Althainia
was left alone under New Thalos, and bleeding badly as the demon walked out,
taking his prize corpse with him.

Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Feb 25 19:58:48 2015

Writer: Ferg

Date Wed Feb 25 20:01:13 2015

Writer: Gebze

Date Wed Feb 25 20:25:03 2015

Writer: Gebze

Date Wed Feb 25 20:25:29 2015

Writer: Rmed

Date Wed Feb 25 21:02:21 2015

Writer: Aliera

Date Thu Feb 26 11:59:58 2015

To All Althiania Shalonesti_Kingdom Ulrog Imm RP Nadrik

Subject Seeking Demons part 4

The entire room was filled with steam, the fog like tendrils of it
creeping along every surface as the bath in the middle was heated beyond the
comfort level of most humans, yet Aliera was freezing. Despite the nearly
burning water, her skin was cold as ice and she could not stop trembling.
The shock to her system was overwhelming, and the night had been
insufferably long. Screams had woken the Empress every time she passed out,
only after the fourth time did she realize they were her own. A servant
urged Aliera out of the bath just as the water tinged pink, the seeping
puncture wounds at her neck dropping blood into the water. Another few of
them quickly removed to the tub, trying to minimize her exposure to the
sight. It was the third time today the water had been red from wounds, some
from the Empress, and the rest from the last breaths of the Cityguard.

After bandaging her broken ribs again, Aliera pulled a robe on and sat down
before the mirror in her bedroom. A faint gesture made those in attendance
yield the room to the Empress, suddenly having other things to do, and
leaving her alone in silence to look at herself for the first time since.
The condensation on the mirror slowly cleared, revealing the image of her
damp spirals clinging to her neck and shoulders. The water from the air was
still heavy in her platinum curls as she adjusted them, pulling them back
pinning them behind her head with shaking hands. As the mirror cleared
completely, the second of the golden pins fell from her fingers and
clattered to the top of the vanity as Aliera gasped softly, the wounds
visible for the first time. A pair of deep puncture marks, raw and
irritated perforated her neck on the right side. They were imperfect, the
demon had not just wanted to feed, it had needed to, the force behind his
taking it from her evident from the tears at the edge of the wound. It had
needed to replace the strength she had taken from it and what it had
expended in killing her mortal protection.

Humiliation, disgust and pain flickered over the features of the young woman
in the mirror before settling on the mask she so regularly had to have in
place. Her life was not a private one, and despite her estate nearly being
locked down and the servants sworn to secrecy, it would not go unnoticed
that the Empress was missing from the castle and palace. She would come
back from this, but not without help, dropping the mask again, and in the
privacy of her bedchamber, the Deacon cried out to her Lord.

Writer: Azheri

Date Thu Feb 26 12:23:26 2015

To All Kyri Bloodlust Ulrog Imm RP Necrucifer Fatale

Subject Ulrog's KILLING rage

The two met in the darkness of the lands. Azheri says to Ulrog, "You
fought hard last evening, but the Warlady is not a pushover.
" Ulrog nods
in agreement, but says "The sun did a great deal in determining who the
winner was.

Azheri said to Ulrog, "
Show me your best then. " Ulrog grabs a hold of his
axes and swings at Azheri's legs, hitting his hamstring, pushing Azheri to
nearly fall to one knee. Azheri quickly grabs the nearest stick that he
sees, and quickly goes into a defensive stance, hiding his entire body with
his shield. Ulrog kicks the dirt into Azheri's eyes, blinding Azheri for a
few moments as he begins kicking hard on the shield. With every kick at the
shield, Azheri takes a step back from the brute force of the dwarf. Azheri
says to Ulrog, "Let it go. Let it go. " Ulrog goes into rage. His body
became completely overtaken by the dark soul from within.

Ulrog's body swings, and swings, but he is unable to control his hits.
There was no precision. But the vampire notices that with every hit, Azheri
would take damage - little at a time. It was as Ulrog was scratching him to
death. Azheri whispers, "This is the spirit that I wanted to see," as he
attempts to dodge every hit. But punch after punch, kicks after kicks,
Ulrog continues to wear Azheri down.

In the height of the battle, Azheri prays to Necrucifer as he sings his war
howl song, knocking Ulrog to the ground, and even punching Ulrog's torn body
as he is down. Azheri does not stop - he wanted Ulrog to see what the
Dungeon is made of - ruthless savages.

Ulrog laid still, not moving a muscle. Some may think that he died, but the
vampire within has only stepped back to give this some thoughts.
As Azheri walks away, he whispers, "Let it go. You are what we need in the Dungeon."

Writer: Laendyn

Date Thu Feb 26 20:10:07 2015

To All Althainia Shalonesti_Kingdom Ulrog Imm RP Nadrik Zandreya

Subject Entering the Fight

Laendyn.... Help.... Thalos

Was All that he heard before he the silence filled the undead words.

Like a flash, the portal opened, the first of his Kyorl entering before he
could even fully lower his hand. With a grim nod to the rest of his Kyorl,
Laendyn entered the portal himself, the hot desert winds of Thalos blowing
against his skin.

"Yin'uil and Bin'val, find her tracks, quickly now', he ordered and off two
went in either direction. If the she had been here with her guards, it
would have drawn attention. Another four Kyorl, came up behind Laendyn,
nodding as they stepped back, All six remaining close to their Speaker.

Laendyn looked up and down the busy street, the busy merchants giving him
little more than a look of two over the Kyorl's shoulders, before they moved
on. It would not surprise him if the world of his arrival had already
spread on this half of the market.

Yin'uil appeared next to the Speakers arm and nodded, pointing down one of
the alley's, before melding with the rest of the Kyorl surrounding Laendyn.

As one, they moved from their spot, the Kyorl gently, and efficiently,
making a path through the crowds. In no time they were free of the crowds,
moving swiftly down the alley and down into the underground. Taking a knee,
Laendyn sent two more Kyorl in either direction. It was not long before
Bin'val came back, looking ashen faced and nodded.

A massacre and, in the middle, the Empress. Sheathing his blade he picked
up the Empress and sent another Kyorl ahead of him to call upon those within

He had to get her help.

Writer: Azheri

Date Fri Feb 27 13:34:14 2015

To All Bloodlust Shadow ( Kyri imm immortals RP Fatale Necrucifer Sindraste Ulrog )

Subject Sindraste's Forthcoming

Azheri is unfamiliar with how the vampiric souls on Algoron came about.
While he has lived in the Dungeon for some time now, alongside with
vampires, he never talked to them much. The vampires serve one purpose to
Azheri, which is, to locate enemies through their scent. Croeyle was the
strongest of them all, and to Azheri, no other vampires can come close.

Sindraste spoke to Azheri about how she came about, how she came to form.
Despite living in Fatale's Dungeon, Azheri was unaware that Fatale was the
one who opened up the gates for the vampires to cross. Sindraste continued
to express her thoughts on life, or rather, the lack of life. Her interest
in how humans are with feelings, thoughts, and cries, allowed her to bond
with Azheri as they continued to learn from one another. Afterall, Azheri
is a curious one, and has a strong drive to learn. He believes that knowing
is already half the battle, and that is a lot of battles that he has won in
his lifetime.

Their bonds grow even stronger as they find themselves seeing the same goals in life.

Writer: Zola

Date Fri Feb 27 16:57:59 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Fatale

Subject X Dark Virtue - Ambition X


One of Fatales most important virtues, a trait All of his truly faithful
strived for. Right now, Zola was doing less to follow the virtue and more
to guide others to do the same.

Bithnike and Nixdbit were the ones he watched. Pirates, scoundrels, and
trained killers, in no particular order. Formerly of Greystroke, currently
of Thalosia. They'd come well recommended as the sorts of buccaneer scum
could take you almost anywhere you needed to go on the high seas for a

Zola did not care for sailing, he had no stomach for the rocking of a ship,
and he detested the wet and the cold. More than once he was tempted to
simply set the ship ablaze and pray for a return
home, but his sacrifice
today was going to be a special one. The pirates had even inspired his
choice, and he had to admit, it was daring and refreshingly new way to
entertain the Lord of Murder.

Finally, they reached their destination. The hobgoblin pirates dragged
Zola's victim on deck and ripped off the bag covering their head. They were
no one of particular importance, just some
poor sod slated for execution.
But when the pirates had approached Zola the manner of his doom had been

At a gesture from the Deacon, a plank was extended, and the victim pushed
towards it. Zola explained the rules.

"The island in the distance is Tropica, you can see it from here. We are
currently anchored over Fire Coral Reef. Simply swim ashore, and you are
free to go.

The victim smirked, but then carefully schooled his expression to a more
neutral one. Unlike some who set sail on the high seas, he actually knew
how to swim. Doubtless, he did not know that
Zola was aware of this fact.
His arms and legs were unbound, and then Nixdbit and Bithnike took turns
baiting the poor swab with their swords, inching him along the wooden plank
as Zola watched
dispassionately. After a moments hesitation, the man
finally jumped.

He resurfaced soon after, believing himself alright, treading water easily.
Then something brushed against his leg, and he realized he had a reason to
panic after all.

The victim barely had a chance to scream before he was dragged under and
devoured, for Fire Coral Reef was home to any number of vicious predators,
not least of which was great white sharks. Soon the water
around their ship
turned red with blood, and Zola gave a distinct nod of approval as he prayed
up to his deity.

"That will be all, captains, " he said, feeling nauseaous. Not from the
display of blood, but the rocking of the waves. "Return us to port.

The hobgoblin pirates complied, eagerly asking when they'd be able to take
part in another venture such as this one alongside the Priest of Fatale.
For his part, Zola wasn't sure. But he
had to admit, he did enjoy the
pirates enthusiasm, and they certainly didn't lack ambition. Time would
tell for the rest however.

Writer: Thzad

Date Sat Feb 28 03:22:32 2015

To All IMM Kyri

Subject A mission

The Thane sat upon the Throne of Wargar, the carved rock of the Throne
jutted out from the very stone of the wall behind itself as the Thane
cracked his knuckles leisurely.

Leaning on his throne, pitcher of Thaxnos special import in hand, the Lord
Hill Arinik Marblegold stated boldly "Ah'll do it. Ah'm not afraid. Ah bae
Lord Hill, after all, mae kin bae proud warriors of tha Mountain. Name tha
task, Thane!"

The Thane sat on the Throne of Stone and said bluntly "Ah wish tah find
Cliath's Hand."

The Lord Hill looked squarely at the Thane seated beside him and filled his
stein with Thaxnos special import before stating "Oh, es that all? And
shall Ah fetch ye tha wings o an Angel an tha Scales o tha firstborne? Yer
pulling me leg, Thane!"

"Nay, Ah dunnae jest. Ah'm serious, Lord Hill."

"Well then." Arinik replied after a moment's thought, "Where do we look?"

The Thane drank from his stein and said from Wargar's Throne, "Well, way Ah
heard et was et's lost on Icewall somewhere. Et is Cliath's Hammer that
forges ought All we behold, and ef anyone has ah rightful claim to et, et
bae Wargar!"

The Lord Hill laughed loudly and crashed his stein into the Thane's. They
both drank and then the Lord Hill headbutt the Thane squarely between the
eyes. The two dwarves laughed and then grasped each other by the shoulders,
yelling at each other at the same time.

"Ah dunnae care at all! Let's do this! For Wargar!"

"Let's go claim what's rightly ours!"

And the two dwarves both drank and laughed and song songs and fistfought
that one time later in the evening, until the sun rose outside the mountain
and the light shafts within grew dark. As the candles burnt themselves out
the Lord Hill and the Thane drank and had bread and meat called for, and
conversed into the wee hours.

The very next morning a young Dwarf Lord of Wargar rode to the gates of
Thaxnos upon a strong war mare. He rode from the gate and road to the docks
of the western most part of the land, seeking fareway to Icewall and calling
all the dwarves of Thaxnos, Wargar and Althainia to his side. Quite a few
of his kin came to his call, for he was brash and a lout, and dwarves like
that sort of thing. The search for Cliath's Hand had begun.

Writer: Gotnick

Date Sat Feb 28 07:48:50 2015

To Althainia ( All rp imm religion Raije )

Subject Destiny served Cold

Gotnick was focused on only one thing, training. He had already seen the
High Cleric about new books to learn and new skills to study. He had no
idea it would be so hard. He always knew he wasn't the smartest, but now he
felt really dumb. Incantations and spell ingrediants, mix this but not
that, he needed to clear his head and just bash something. So today, thats
what he did. Walking through Arkane on his way to the crystal fields he let
his mind simply go blank. No thinking. No wondering if he forgot
something. Just the constant ache of the bite his little brother gave him.
Not even paying attention to where he was going until it was far too late.

One moment he was walking and the next he was sliding. And rolling. And
tumbling. Whatch out for the!!! Tree.. Coming to rest at the bottom of
the hill he just stares at the sky with a mumbled 'owwch.. ' Looking around
he has landed on a wide ledge overlooking the forests of southern Arkane a
mere 10 feet from a drop straight down. Sitting up he thanks Raije for
making him stop and checks his body. Nothing broken except his pride and a
bruise on his face from hitting the tree. Getting to his feet he starts
looking around for a way to get back but sees something in the trees. A
fire? Gods what is that awful smell?

No thinking.

Curiosity was simply too strong, he had to see what it was. Making his way
through the forest he walks into the camp only to find the fire ablaze but
abandoned. Muttering to himself he starts throwing dirt on the fire until
its out. Making his way through the camp, he suddenly began feeling odd,
like All the strength in his body simply left. Sores popping out All over
his skin then bursting to let puss roll off his body into the dirt. With a
scream he collapses, his last thought was realizing this was really stupid.

Writer: Lorothil

Date Sat Feb 28 08:26:17 2015

Writer: Gotnick

Date Sat Feb 28 13:22:20 2015

To Althainia ( All rp imm religion Raije )

Subject Destiny served Cold (part 2)

Gotnick couldn't move, couldn't see, couldn't hear anything but the
humming in his ears, but he could feal; and oh did he hurt. From the top of
his head to his toes there wasn't anything on him that didn't hurt. This
was serious, though wondering if he was even alive. Is this hell? Did he
fail in some way and now Raije was punishing him? Gods, maybe that was it!
Maybe this is punishment for nearly getting his little brother in trouble.
No. He might get a whipping but eternal damnation for getting his brother
in trouble? Probably not. Then where was he? Too much thinking. Tries to
move, h is body, ever so slowly, twitches. Seems like with that much energy
forcing it, he should have moved more than that. Ah and the ogre awakens, I
was wondering how long you would take. Don't try to move you will only
injur yourself. Though, honestly you shouldn't even be alive.
Who is
that? Gotnick must be going insane.

That was it. He's lost his marbles. He's gone bat crazy.

No, there was a camp, a fire, he saw it. Answer the voice, that's whe he
has to do. Talk to the voice, maybe he can go home. Gotnick tries to
speak, actually says an entire speach about how sorry he was, that he'd
never do it again but All that came out was a grunt. His tongue felt thick
and very dry. 'It would teach you to fool with another man's fire, boy.
Did you not see my camp? Thought you would steal from me because I'm old
did you. Well, you're learning a right lesson now aren't you.

The pain eases slightly as a poultice is put on his skin and then it dawns
on him. Where are his clothes? Oh gods, he is in the woods blind and
hurting and deaf and NAKED! Suddently there is light, blinding light so
bright he scrunches his eyes shut tight. Flinching slightly, there is a
waterskin pressed to his lips and a few drops touch his tongue. Heaven.
Water! Gulping he tries to suck in as much water as he can only to have the
skin pulled away from him. Slowly he opens his eyes but what he sees he can
hardly believe. Standing in front of him is a two foot tall gnome. This
little thing caused him All this pain? No way. Suddenly the pain is gone,
his muscles work, though he finds himself tied up like a hog to slaughter.
The little gnome man walks over and stand a few inches from Gotnick's prone
face and stares at him. With a shake of his head, the little man scqueezes
the neck of a small doll and Gotnick loses conciousness again.

Yep, this was really really stupid he thinks as blackness overtakes him.

Writer: Gotnick

Date Sat Feb 28 15:09:31 2015

To Althainia ( All imm rp religion Raije )

Subject Destiny served Cold ( Finale )

Gotnick woke with a start, his eyes flying open only to wish he hadn't.
Pain shooting through his skull like he was stabbed. Groaning, he tries
again but slowly this time. 'And he awakens, welcome back to the land of
the living Gotnick Renato.
' Gotnick blinks against the light, surprise
showing on his face as he manages to croak out raspily 'you knows me?
Chuckling the small man pokes at the coals of his fire and nods. 'Well,
better to say I know your folks.
Gotnick strains against his bindings,
almost choking himself out. 'Easy boy before you kill yourself. Walking
over to him, he holds the doll up in front of Gotnick's face and says 'Try
anything and I will break your arms and legs, understand?
Eyeing the doll,
Gotnick nods and his bindings are cut. Moving them however was much harder
to do. Blood rushes to his feet and hands making everything tingle. 'I had
to ask around a bit, the dead don't tend to be very simpathetic to the
living. Seeing as you were tresspassing, some wanted me to end your life,
but I thought you might be usefull. Are you usefull Gotnick?
' Gotnick
nods as he slowly sits up rubbing life back into his limbs. ' Now to figure
out why you're here. Fate rarely tends to be fickle, so you must be here
for something important.. But what..
The little man turns to the fire and
pokes the coals with a long stick. A wind comes from nowhere and blows
through the camp, strong enough to toss Gotnick's hair every which way. The
little man nods. '
So, you wish to speak to the dead hmm? Gotnick's head
whips up, he hadn't said anything to anyone about anything. 'Not many of
your kind know my magic boy, yet here you are.
' The little gnome turns and
regards Gotnick with carefull scrutiny. 'You don't seem like much but I
want sleep at night. If, and I mean IF, you survive your training, come to
this place. Wait for three days, at the end of each day caw as the crow
four times and howl as the wolf and I will come. Now go, before I change my
The man returns to his fire and dismisses Gotnick with a slight wave
of his hand. He doesn't need to be told twice. Running through the forest
he starts to pray to Raije for home, but it doesn't work. Running, faster
and faster through the trees until finally he vanishes and appears stumbling
into the temple of Althainia. Gotnick collapses on the stones too tired and
too sore to move.

Writer: Tatsuo

Date Mon Mar 2 07:37:46 2015

Writer: Brollo

Date Mon Mar 2 14:49:31 2015

To All Wargar Shalonesti (imm Kyri Zypher Raije RP)

Subject Piss on et! - Part 1

Dwarves didn't worry overmuch. The sturdy race, from times forgotten in
the long march of years, planned carefully, employing patient strategies in
both work and warfare to ensure an eventual, if not dramatically
spectacular, success in All they pursued. No, dwarves didn't leave much to
chance, but Brollo Rockhead wasn't exactly a typical dwarf.

Muls, bred to fight and die, if necessary, in the arena were not very well
known for their patient ways, and mul battleragers even less so. It lead to
trouble usually, but so it was that Brollo found himself, yet again, not in
the safe, warm comforts of Wargar Halls many rooms, but sitting on the
weathered stump of a fallen oak, well north and east of The Mountain.

Generally hating the forest (after All you couldn't see a damn thing in all
this; tangled mess!) , The hardened veteran cursed quietly to himelf, under
his breath lest he call too much attention to himself as he rested for a
moment on his long morning march from the halls. He'd already covered a lot
of ground, first in the foothills along the mountain (a much better place,
in his opinion) and then down into the greener valleys on the borders of his
enemy's territory.

"Damn faerie sissaes... Hidin' more'n more..." He muttered angrily.

Brollo found himself in just such a circumstance more and more often as of
late. The normally hot warfare between the dwarves and elves had cooled
somewhat in the past few seasons. It was as if the elves had gone into
hiding or some kind of hibernation. And the dwarves! It was rare these
days for the clan to rouse itself for more than the occasional raid when
strong drink urged what duty could not. And so, the cries of battle had
lessened on The Mountain and in the green valleys between the two warring

"Piss on et! I were nae made te wield no damn minin' pick!" The dwarf
practically spat, as he continued his rantings.

Then, rising once more, he collected his travelling pack, the well-dented
helmet he always wore and finally his old friend, a rather large, very much
stained, battleaxe. Still, the comfort of its familiar weight brought him no
relief from his simmering disposition, nor would he find relief, he believed
until the half-moon blade was wet with elvish blood.

As he continued on down the game trail he followed, he cursed, under his
breath mostly, but ever so often a curse, in common or dwarvish most
frequently (but some in the fair elvish too) would escape into the quietness,
causing the animals nearby to go quiet when they heard. However, he did
keep his eyes sharp for movement and his ears peeled for the sounds of
the enemy.

If this war didn't heal up again soon, he mused, he could always just invade
the damn city of the elves himself...

Writer: Azheri

Date Mon Mar 2 17:06:13 2015

Writer: Rhaelor

Date Mon Mar 2 21:42:05 2015

Writer: Merint

Date Mon Mar 2 22:37:18 2015

Writer: Milleuda

Date Tue Mar 3 02:06:42 2015

Writer: Ferg

Date Tue Mar 3 10:27:17 2015

Writer: Maithion

Date Tue Mar 3 21:46:56 2015

Writer: Elrei

Date Tue Mar 3 21:49:17 2015

To All Taliena Imm RP

Subject A Prayer: Abandoning the Nations

My Lady,

You were right, of course.

I have no real sway or clout in the world. If I ever did, I left it back
in Shalonesti. People like to tell me that I have influence, but when the
chips are down I'm just another Nameless to be cast aside, tossed away when
my supposedly revered wisdom points out an unfavorable truth, or when my
vision for a better path takes too long to coalesce for those less patient
than this venerable Elf.

The nations of the world are poisoned, laid low by their grasp upon the
tainted and double-edged blade of politics. No matter how one may try to
cleanse the wound and draw out the venom, it festers and remains because of
that grip - a grip that will not loose because the blade has pierced the
heart, and to draw it out means instant death.

Those who have tried to draw out the poison, sucking at the wound out of
concern and hope for recovery, have only managed to poison themselves in the
process. They become tainted by the foulness they had hoped to overcome,
becoming less and less capable of aid, less and less certain of the merit in
trying to do so.

It was that concern and hope which sent me, time and again, scurrying
back to find a place in the world, to find a position that I could use to
help others, to enact real and positive change. Yet it is clear that cannot
happen so long as the poisoned blade of politics remains buried in the heart
of a nation. Devion may enjoy immensely the games, subterfuges, and plots,
but it is plain that politics are firmly in the realm of his brother,
Dragoth, for who else could have devised such a means to rule where the
favored choice is a slow death over a quick one?

In Your wisdom, You tried to tell me this, and I, fool that I am, could
not hear the message.

I am glad, now, to know that I have no sway in such a system, that I have
no authority in the acrid assault of arrogance, no part in the pageantry of
power that places so much pretension upon the pedestal itself, and not the
people it is intended to support.

I have left so-called civilization behind, to embark on a journey to find
civility. I do not care for the comforts and conveniences that call most to
citizenship. I have no interest in administration masquerading as
leadership. I am no longer fooled by the charade of a populace as a
community. Those who gain without effort do not respect and appreciate what
they have, and there is no effort expended in promoting community - only in
promoting the leadership.

Others are content to have me at a distance.

I am, at long last, content to let them.

I pray for forgiveness, for my arrogance and obtuseness.

Writer: Maithion

Date Tue Mar 3 21:57:28 2015

Writer: Azgrul

Date Tue Mar 3 22:07:08 2015

To All imm roleplay religion

Subject [ Animal I Have Become ]

The night was restless as were the seas. A great storm beat against the
hull of the Gauntlet, as if the sea and sky itself worked against her,
seeking to send her and her inhabitants to the bottom of the sea.

The crew worked at the riggings, trying to contain the ship against the fury
of the storm. The fierce winds and crashing waves demanding every bit of
effort from those aboard. Azgrul was below decks, as he always was and
always had been. The other slaves huddled together attempting to find
warmth and something dry.

The Quarter Master cracked his whip against Azgrul's back. His favorite
target. Demanding the slaves hold tight the oars to keep them from rattling
around and possibly breaking amidst the chaos below decks. Azgrul was full
grown now, a full seven feet when standing tall, and the Quarter Master had
crafted himself a special whip just for Azgrul because he had long since
stopped feeling the sting of a traditional whip. So the Quarter Master had
tied scraps of metal and broken cannon balls to a crude rope, forming a kind
of make shift cat of nine tails.

The whip bit into Azgrul's flesh but he made no cry of pain. He channeled
it inwards as he had learned to do. His Orcish fury building inside of him.
Just as the storm raged outside, a storm raged inside Azgrul. Churning and
boiling. Barely contained. Azgrul gripped the oars tight, his orcish
strength more than enough to keep them steady. His thoughts drifted to the
past. To a time when he had known some measure of freedom.

His sister Diuxa used to gather Azgrul and their siblings together and tell
stories at the end of the day. As the fire burned she would recant tales
passed down of when the orcish tribes were free. Of the fierce warriors and
chieftens of old. Azgrul used to relish this time, feeling a connection to
his ancestors and the tales of the fury they would bring forth. A fury all
orcs knew. A fury that only grew stronger when they were brought into

You could not break an orc. You could bind him and hold him for a time but
his fury and orcish pride would never break. There was ever a look of
rebellion in their eyes. He saw it in Valthorgyn's, his brother and in his
sister, Diuxa. Even during the evening stories. The fury was there.

A crack of the whip and the bite of steel into his flesh brought Azgrul back
to the present. For once he did not stay silent. As thunder rolled and
shook the ship, a primal roar broke free from Azgrul's mouth from deep
inside him. All of his fury suddenly manifest in a single moment of orcish
strength. His chains, which were thicker than those made for humans,
strained and then broke with a clang as he spread his arms wide, bellowing.

He stood up, having to duck in the cramped space and turned to face the
Quarter Master, who stood in shock at the display of true Orcish fury and
strength. The rebellion burned behind Azgrul's eyes. Without thinking he
charged forward ripping into the Quarter Master with his bare hands, tearing
the man in two.

Hot blood covered Azgrul as he let out another primal roar. Azgrul was

Writer: Miribelle

Date Wed Mar 4 06:32:34 2015

To All Marauders Raije Necrucifer Drakkara

Subject Pawns of the Gods

The wizardess stood motionless before the tall arching windows of the
Archives, gazing down at the courtyard of the Fort as Raije's army broke
camp and the soldiers streamed out of the gates to the temples and holdfasts
from which they came.

She was still amazed by the size of the Army, enough to hold back the
quick-response squads from Verminasia, Abaddon, and the Army's own splinter
faction. She had retired for the evening after the meeting with a headache,
and would not have imagined in a thousand years what would take place after
she rode back home to her own keep of Northwatch.

She replayed the events of the evening in her mind that she had witnessed,
frowning at her own nieve input. The Highlord and Tactician both proposed
converting the Army's patron god to Necrucifer under his own orders, they
said. Raije had not shown the Fort enough favor, it was said, and under the
guidance of Necrucifer, the Army would return to its days of glory.

For All her life she had prayed to Dr{akkara, though she would not have called
herself a terribly religious person. Certainly she would do whatever the
goddess asked of her, but she was no priest, nor prophet. It was hard to
imagine what an omnipitent being would need of a simple enchantress- so when
the tally was counted, she lent her voice to the cause, thinking little of

But consequences there were, in a magnitude she could not have imagined0 but
should have forseen. The gods did not lightly give up what was theirs. She
should have thought back to the lessons of the purist faction, of Juarnot,
of the vampire infestation in Shalonesti.

With a shake of her head she turned around and gazed down at the tilework
eagle on the floor of the Archives, its wings spread nearly the length of
the entire room. The symbol of the Marauders... It would not do to dwell
on the past. She must focus on the present.

If this command was truly sent from Necrucifer, he would expect results.
But Raije was clearly unwilling to go without a fight, and anyone should
have seen -that- coming. Traice was already usurped, and lucky to have kept
his life, much less his place in the Fort... Was that a message? Was Raije
merciful, or did Necrucifer have some sort of plan for him still? Drakkara
had always been the foremost of the dark gods to preach unity. Would she
wish to see Necrucifer leading the Marauder armies? Would Necrucifer be
willing to see the Fort destroyed rather than remain in Raije's hands? She
thought not, but it was difficult to say for certain.

With a sigh she ran her fingers through her hair, her gaze following the
last of the soldiers out of the gates, still undecided. Not for the first
time, and certainly not the last, she had wondered whatever possessed her to
take up the role of Wizardess. Certainly being a soldier was dangerous
enough, but it would be nice to do exactly as you're told, to fight the
enemy before you that you could see and touch. She had never enjoyed
politics, yet here she was, trapped between a rock and a hard place.

Writer: Cieran

Date Wed Mar 4 08:26:32 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Wed Mar 4 08:56:40 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Wed Mar 4 09:22:55 2015

Writer: Traice

Date Wed Mar 4 14:25:47 2015

To All Marauders Verminasia ( Tashiyo Roleplay Storyline )

Subject |The Broken|


Traice lay a broken man on his bed. His body shattered into a thousand
different pieces, every bone slowly mending. Agonizingly slow. Every head
nod, every twitch sent a flurry of pain through his body like a typhoon.
Everything he was, was gone. Cast away, like he was when he was thrown into
the crater they found him in.

His mind had begun playing hallucinations from the lack of sleep, forbidden
to fall asleep lest he not wake up from an unforeseen injury. Eyeballs red
with dryness, his mouth was drawn tight at the words spoken. His fingers
gripped the bed as if to restrain his broken body back from some unforeseen

Then he remembered: "You will die old, and alone."

That was when he began to scream.

Writer: Telthian

Date Wed Mar 4 15:15:20 2015

To All Marauders Verminasia ( Tashio Kyri Religion Storyline Necrucifer Raije )

Subject | The Crucible of an Empire III |

The priest stood atop the battlements, surveying the Fortress beneath
him. Fires still burned below and the sick and wounded were being plucked
from the wreckage and hurried away to what healers remained loyal. His
fingers toyed with the signet upon his finger, running along that ancient
symbol Isadore once claimed as his own.

Shortsighted. That is the word the commanders of the hosts chose. It alone
was sign enough that the leadership of the Marauders had failed their own
order for a decade. This was not the army of Oge Ironclad, nor had it been
since the second cataclysm.

He had worked with seven Highlords. He had offered them brotherhood, a
place of respect within the Dark Alliance, and bolstered their forces with
riches from his own horde. They were creatures of fragile ego, constantly
having to be stroked and reassured. Seven Highlords, and each one an abject
failure. Even those competent enough to retain leadership for more than a
few months faded away into obscurity, and not one had the will or foresight
to do what must be done.


Two Highlords had sworn oaths, spilt their blood upon the altar of
Necrucifer, and bound the Marauders to the Armies of Darkness.

Those loyal to the Plan joined the Fortress, and began their work to right
the ship. He wore a Crown, in those days. A hateful thing, but not without
its uses.

When he returned to the realms much had changed. The Fortress was silent
once more. Leadership had passed from hand to hand, and nothing had
changed. The Alliance held firm, but when it was finally called upon,
finally tested - Ryim Lemur broke his blood oath to the Highlord.

And so the priest offered the Marauder Highlord what they wanted. Power.
Relevancy. Alliances. In exchange he joined their ranks, to rebuild and
mend what had rotted away in time.

They accomplished this and more. Much more. The Fortress stood for
something more than failure. Emptiness. Idleness. And yet, Thalimir with
all the power as Highlord fell upon his own sword. He had no interest in
leading. No foresight. No right to rule.

The priest smiled, watching the red and black eagle banner - not so
different from the same red and black Verminasia carried into battle, whip
about in the wind from the clouds above.

They did not even have to take the Fortress from the old guard. Thalimir
and his cronies handed it over to the Darkness willingly. Their plans
stretched back years, before the shards, before Malachive, and beyond
dynasties. Shortsighted indeed.

In hellfire the Priest drew the twisted sun of Necrucifer atop the
battlements, offering a prayer once more.

Writer: Joselynn

Date Thu Mar 5 18:19:58 2015

To All Imm RP Nordmaar

Subject New Orders

Joselynn dressed in her camo uniform, with her new orders in her pocket,
ready to go on her mission. After checking her weapons, tying her boots
tight, tightening her supply pack, and making sure All was in order, she set
off on her way to the Yinn encampment.

It took her some time to arrive at her designated point before daybreak, but
she had made it with time to spare. She observed a few yinn at one
entrance, two hidden in the brush and two out in the open. She further
observed that the camp was quiet so she assumed most of them were still
sleeping in their tents.

As the sun rose along the horizon, she took a few seconds to look at the
colors in the sky then returned to her ordered assignment. They started to
arouse from their sleep as one by one the yinn walked out of their tents
yawning and stretching. She continued to walk around slowly and silently
watching as more yinn woke up still looking very tired.

She made it to another entrance where she stopped quickly and hid behind a
tree surrounded by brush, she could not take the chance of being heard or
seen. From her hiding spot she saw eight yinn guards, dressed in full
chainmail, searching around vigorously for something or someone. She
watched them closely as they performed a complete search, looking up her
way, but not searching where she was hidden. As they turned to search
further out, Joselynn took her chance and quickly made it to the east of the
camp following south on the opposite side of the yinn encampment.

Finally, she had finished her mission and returned to Nordmaar unscathed but
quite exhausted. It was dawn of the following day but she sat in the
Valhalla, bought a horn of mead, wrote her report to the King and Minister
of Defense, drank down the mead, bid Grinhilda a good morn and headed off to

Writer: Poeduk

Date Thu Mar 5 20:58:16 2015

Writer: Azgrul

Date Thu Mar 5 21:38:44 2015

To All imms roleplay religion

Subject [ Be Prepared For Hell ]

The storm raged and wave after wave crashed over the deck of the Gauntlet
as the storm that was inside Azgrul raged on. He burst out from below decks
with a savage roar that was answered with the thunder of the storm as he
wasted no time, letting his fury guide him, as he began to kill.

He killed indiscriminately as he eyes searched the deck for his true target,
the Captain who had bought him as a child and banished him to a life lived
almost entirely below decks on this accursed ship. His chains were broken
and his fury was unleashed.

Using his chains he slashed out, striking All who were foolish enough to get
between him and the Captain who stood atop the quarter deck, glancing down
at Azgrul with an odd calm to him, as if he were expecting this. He said
nothing as his men threw themselves at the slaughter that was Azgrul's path.
The rain beat down heavily against everything, soaking him with water just
as he was soaked in the blood of those who came against him. If he suffered
any cuts of his own he didn't notice as he slashed with his chains and
crushed with his fists.

It didn't take long before he made his way to the stairs and up onto the
quarter deck and with a flash of lightning Azgrul was standing over the
Captain. Drawn up to his full height of seven feet tall he stood glaring
down at the Captain who looked back up at him.

The thunder, rain and crashing of the waves seemed to fade away, replaced by
the storm inside Azgrul's eyes as he stood for what seemed like an eternity
in front of the one responsible for his years of enslavement. The Captain
seemed oddly at peace and said only one thing.

'Take it, Azgrul. Your freedom is yours by your own hand. '

With a might roar Azgrul raised his fists above his head and brought them
crashing down with bone crunching fury on the Captain, covering himself in
blood and gore, striking again and again until the fury inside him began to
fade to an extent and he stood up.

Blood and rain mixed as they covered his large, muscular body. Thunder and
lightning filled the sky as he turned to look down from the Quarter deck
over those still alive on the deck below. The ones fortunate enough to have
not been in his way or those smart enough to avoid him.

he bellowed for All to hear, "WE SAIL FOR TROPICA!!!"

It took only a moment for the shock of what had happened to pass and
realization to settle in before those who remained alive made the wise
choice of tending to the rigging and following the large angry orcs words.

Writer: Reagan

Date Thu Mar 5 22:49:23 2015

Writer: Reagan

Date Thu Mar 5 22:55:05 2015

Writer: Tahereh

Date Fri Mar 6 09:47:55 2015

Writer: Valanthiriel

Date Fri Mar 6 21:25:24 2015

To Carrionmaw Marauders All Imm ( RP )

Subject In your Fort, killin' your dudes.

The Assassin General slid effortlessly through the now-familar halls of
Fort Ironclad, the dossier files dedicated to her memory. She held herself
back as she passed soldier after soldier she knew to be true to their cause.
Then she saw one walk past, a follower of Raije determined to keep the
Maraudrers set back, denying them of their true potential.

One who sought to keep them as a tool of Balance.

She lept out of the cloak of her shadows, blade drawn and glistening in the
dark light of the inner halls before it plunged into his back. The others
nearby, those who were loyal, had already received notice of this culling.
Just as they had received notice to only drink what they procured
themselves, from outside the Fort. They quickened their pace and continued
in their own tasks.

She continued this was for several moments, until one of those sharing her
body grew cross, demanding their own time to play, and was denied vehemently
as this task required stealth. Soon she was feeling the few blades that
managed to answer hers a bit too sharply, and cursing the shadows that would
no longer obey.

Still, she kept to her task, eliminating many before she found it necessary
to hole up within the temple to heal herself and try to sweet talk the
shadows into cooperating once more.

And then Gruthlark found her.

Writer: Azgrul

Date Fri Mar 6 22:09:23 2015

To All imm roleplay religion

Subject [ Dead but Rising ]

Hours later and the storm still raged. Azgrul stood on the quarter deck
of the Gauntlet and laughed out loud. It was a cruel yet funny seen. He
had slaughtered his way to freedom and now he was free. In his rage he
hadn't stopped to think that he had killed All the skilled sailors.

The main mast was the last one standing of the three originally attached to
the Gauntlet and it was cracking and ready to break under the strain of the
storm winds and other forces of nature at work. With Tropica insight it was
obvious that the ship was going to sink.

Those still alive, what remained of the crew and what few slaves who
survived, worked as best they could to follow Azgrul's orders but he was no
skilled sailor. He had spent most of his life at sea below decks and only
heard orders shouted by the cruel Captain.

He had called for the sails to be risen to full in the midst of a storm and
had paid dearly for that mistake as one by one the masts cracked and broke
under the pressure. It was not All his own doing though. Someone somewhere
must have been laughing at him.

It seemed to happen in slow motion as Azgrul watched and a flash of blinding
light struck the hull of the Gauntlet followed by a deafening boom and
another flash of blinding light. Lightning had struck the Gauntlet and
ignited the barrels of powder below decks.

The last thing Azgrul saw was a flash of light and pieces of the Gauntlet
exploding around him as he was thrown off the quarter deck and into the

He blacked out for a time and awoke beneath the waves, aching but alive.
His instincts told him to gasp for air but as he tried, water filled his
lungs. He kicked frantically and broke the surface, coughing and gasping
for air. The burning wreckage of the Gauntlet a short distance away. He
felt himself drifting back into unconsciouness.

He wouldn't die here he told himself. Not after having finally gained his
freedom. He would live his life and he would do it his way. He grabbed the
closest piece of the broken ship that he could and grabbed the sash from a
nearby corpse, tying himself to the drift wood before the blackness took

In between waking and death he heard voices. Speaking of a nearby camp
and.... Diuxa.

He must have passed out for a time because when he awoke again he was much
more aware but he could tell time had passed. Affects He immediately wished
he was back in the black as he felt his body screaming in protest at his
every breath. He heard a faliar voice. He felt wet sand between his
fingers and felt the sea lapping against his legs, as if it were still
trying to pull him back into it's depths.

As the voice spoke he felt his body responding and his aches subsiding. He
turned his head to see the source of the voice. His long lost sister Diuxa.

Azgrul sat up as his body continued to heal with the help of his sister.

They talked for a time. She was relieved to see him alive but still the
same Diuxa he remembered. Caring even if she didn't show it. She had made
a future for herself here with these people. She spoke passionately of
Malachive and the freedom and future he offered.

Azgrul could see the appeal of her words but couldn't yet bring himself to
believe them himself. She spoke of their brother Valthorgyn across the
ocean, fighting within the Dungeon. She had changed he could tell. She was
hardened. She had grown into a strong, capable leader. He would have been
proud to fight beside her but he eventually took his leave of her. They
parted on good terms and with a blessing from his sister he set off again to
find his brother.

Writer: Telthian

Date Sat Mar 7 08:03:12 2015

To Marauders Verminasia All ( Religion Necrucifer Dragoth Raije )

Subject Oh, Rats!

Secret passageways have their uses. In times of siege the ability to
smuggle food and supplies may well be the one thing which saves a defending
force from occupation. Yet when the enemy is already within your walls the
secret nature of those passages becomes a profound weakness. The occupying
force, able to move about unseen within the heart of Ironclad, had been

The Marauders had begun an inquisition of their own: swear loyalty to the
Marauders and Raije above All else or be cast from the walls by Raijes
avatar. Secrecy would be necessary. For All their best efforts, the
Fortress of Oge Ironclad was littered with cracks in the walls and corridors
one might move unseen. The Obelisk, at the heart of the Fortress, served as
a node for these passages - leading both to places within and outside of the
Fortress walls.

A shimmering gateway splits open the air, almost imperceptible if not viewed
head on, and a single structure rises on the other side: Dragoths temple.
The Priest waited patiently as the nexus rippled in the air. Minutes later
a small robed figure stepped through, the stench almost preceding him.

'All is prepared, Disciple? ' The priest asked, his gloved hands clasped
together before him.

Before the goblin could answer they began streaming through. A few, at
first, but within a heartbeat a river of sickly black rats began pouring
forth from Dragoths holiest of temples.

Telthian chuckled as the vermin swarmed through the corridor, 'Once again I
am indebted to your people. Please, send the High Priestess my regards. '

With a grin and a tip of his head, the goblin was gone as quickly as he
arrived. The passageways were silent now, save for the scurrying of
thousands of Dragoths Swarm as they spread through Fort Ironclad like a

He bowed his head in prayer, offering thanks once more.

Cull the weak. Lift up the Strong.

Writer: Elrei

Date Sat Mar 7 11:12:48 2015

To All Taliena Imm RP

Subject Overture to a Swan Song: Reflections of the Soul

It was ironic, possibly, or perhaps simply unfortunate that Elrei's
years in the priesthood were also the years he felt the most distant from
his Goddess, the least secure in his own faith and understanding. It wasn't
that being a priest changed who he was, what he did, or how he served in
most respects, but that it made it imperative for him to be perfect in his
role. His biggest fear as a priest was to misrepresent Her, and the
constant stress of perfection takes a toll.

It did not help that things seemed to have changed, from the time in
which he wrote of Nimunane and Palavos to the present. There were, he felt,
different expectations and different rules, and the lessons he learned in
his youth, even those She taught him directly, did not always seem to apply
anymore. As an Elf, he was naturally resistant to change. He had expected,
perhaps naively, that the Gods would be moreso. It occurred to him now, too
late, that nearly every faith, every God, encouraged change on some level -
something that would not be the case if the Gods were more resistant to it
than Elves and Dragons. It made sense, of course. Many things had changed
since that time, considering that, strictly speaking, Elrei was older than
at least one full-born God.

Still, there was a time when he felt the Mother better understood him,
his reticent and conservative nature, and saw in him the truth of the
paradox between pain and kindness: that those who have hurt the most are
most disposed toward the prevention of suffering in others. She understood
that he gained his own happiness from that which he inspired or invoked in
others. But in this age, at a time when the full weight of his years was
behind him and he had the least sense of community, his pain was no longer a
strength. In this age, She expected him to be happy on his own, taking the
stance that he could not serve, could not spread happiness to others, if he
did not have any himself.

In honesty, though, happiness had never been Elrei's focus when it came
to Her domain - he concerned himself primarily with Love, believing that
Happiness would follow, as it did when speaking of Her: Taliena, Goddess of
Love and Happiness. Happiness was secondary, something that would be
realized after Love was achieved. That Elrei had no happiness of his own in
the present only indicated that he had gone so long without Love - he could
no longer remember his Bondmate's face as it was when she left for Shokono,
but only as it was when they were Bonded.

Suddenly, the words of the first Hymn he had written for Her Book came to
his mind. Once again, he felt as though he was denied the love that he had
so freely offered and given to all. Elrei saw the sense in the statement
that he could not serve from an empty vessel, but how was he to fill it when
he gained nothing from those he had emptied it for?

Writer: Elrei

Date Sat Mar 7 11:15:23 2015

To All Taliena Imm RP

Subject Overture to a Swan Song: Closing the Book

Unlike others who would flail at such a question and descend into
darkness, believing there was no answer, Elrei understood that the answer
existed - he just didn't have it. There would be no last-days epiphany that
served to convert him from the faith he had held so strongly throughout
life. Instead, this only served to underscore the dual role he had lectured
on to others, that of being both a student and a teacher.

He read through the words before him once again, a craftsman reviewing
his latest work. These were likely the last ones he would write for quite
some time. He wanted to be certain of them, because once sent out into the
world there would be nothing more he could do. Like a child leaving home.

They seemed perfect, and yet altogether inadequate All at once. They
were words too long in coming, and yet too soon to declare. Once made
public they would signal an end and, while endings and beginnings are
closely related, Elrei was not convinced that any new beginning would be for

There comes a time, after all, when one must choose between turning the
page, and closing the book. Since he could not seem to manage it for
himself, perhaps he could at least grant happiness to others in the process.
It was far too late for him to slip into reverie and be missed, an Elf lost
to seemingly endless sleep before his time. But, he hoped, it was not too
late to slip away with some shred of dignity.

Writer: Traice

Date Sat Mar 7 13:48:43 2015

To Marauders Verminasia All ( Tashio Roleplay Storyline Imm )

Subject |Disease Rampant|

Traice nodded to the bouncer, hobbling his way into the Dominion. Making
his way to his private booth, a goblin awaiting him. Traice rested his
crutch against the booth, a noticable grimace on his face as he slid into
his seat. His crimson eyes rose from the table, meeting his green-skinned
companion. Traice reached into his belt, pulling out a small box and
setting it on the table. As the Goblin reached out and cracked the lid, the
jeweled eggs shined outwards, lighting up his greenish, filthy skin.

'Wut doez yew need? '

'You will cast Dragoth's gifts over the food supply of this Army. '

'Witnesses? '

'None. '


As Traice walked down the cooridors, his eyes caught the familiar sight of
the quartermaster's ring attached to a hand poking from a straw pile. A
smile gracing his lips, he hobbled down the road, watching two soldiers
begin to vomit as they walked out from the Rusty Nail.

The wells poisoned, and the food supply contaminated, Traice smiled to
himself as he opened a gate to Verminasia.

Writer: Thalimir

Date Sat Mar 7 14:14:35 2015

To All Marauders Raije Imm Rp

Subject Whispers of the Enemy (I)

Thalimir lay in the dark and the smoke, staring at the ceiling of the
room. The whore house was dark and sweaty, and always loud. He liked the
dark and the noise. It was a welcome distraction. He could hear a patron
in the room next to him. It sounded as though he was getting his money's
worth. The prostitute screamed in agony or pleasure. He couldn't tell.
And he cared even less.

Even the screams of women was preferable to the quiet he had once coveted so
much. Glancing at the curtains he tried to think of the last time he'd been
outside. Days perhaps? Weeks? No, he thought, that couldn't be right. He
would lay here a bit longer and try to remember. Oh how he hated trying to
remember. He had come here to forget after all.

He groaned as he rolled over. It felt as though he hadn't moved in a very
long time as well. How long? No, he wouldn't try to guess. The voices
would return if he lingered on a memory. The voices and the pain. They
were a constant assault on his every sense. He needed medicine to ease his
pain, to quiet his weary mind.

The screams next door grew louder as he groped about in the dark. Where
could he have put it? It had to be around here somewhere, he thought, as
his fingers found the edge of a worn glass ampule. He smiled to himself,
and felt relief. This would stop it, it would stop his mind. And his mind
had become his enemy.

He wondered for a moment if he was supposed to be on a mission. No, he had
failed his mission. His mission, his men, and even his faith. He had
failed and failed spectacularly. He couldn't get it to stop. They began
their attack on his mind as he fiddled with the bottle of necter. At first
there was one, one very distinct voice. Then others joined, slowly at
first, but soon their chorus was overwhelming.

The bed was drenched in sweat. His panting was matching those of his
neighbors. His of pain, their's of pleasure. Fumbling to open the ampule
it began again. "Archers to the western rampart, we're outnumbered! ".
Was he hearing this? No, this wasn't real, he thought. Just another
illusion. It would pass once he opened this damned bottle.

The world began to swim in his vision. A thousand voices cried in his mind.
Screaming in pain and anguish, in fear and death. The candle light danced
in sickening arcs through the air. There wasn't enough time. He had to get
it now. The stopper finally broke free from the small bottle. The smell of
thick necter climbed almost immediately into his mind, calming him. With
shaking hands he upended the bottle into his mouth. First the smell, then
the taste he thought.

But nothing came. Nothing but emptiness and his hatred for himself. "You
led us into a trap you bastard!
". He knew it wasn't real but he heard it
anyways. "You killed us! ". "You failed us!!! " The voices cried. Rage
overtook him, rage and despair. His mind taunting him further and further
with images of death and disgrace.

He threw the bottle across the room. The sound of it breaking barely
audible beneath the madness that overtook him. Hundreds upon hundreds of
voices cried his name. They screamed insults and accusations. They
screamed their hatred for him.

As he writhed in agony one voice stood out amongst the rest. At first it
was just one of many, crying out at the injustice that had been done to
them. But soon it became clear, and it was a voice he had not heard in a
long time. "You failed Thalimir. You failed -them- and you failed me, " it
stated plainly. It wasn't an accusation he now heard, nor a plea, it was
simply a fact.

"Are you such a fool? You think your mind is your enemy? And the cure for
this is... An elixer?
", chided the voice. "You have become a child, and
it is time to wake up.
" Thalimir railed at the darkness, screaming aloud,
"They are All dead! There is nothing left to fight for! "

(... To be continued)

Writer: Thalimir

Date Sat Mar 7 14:21:33 2015

To All Marauders Raije Imm Rp

Subject Whispers of the Enemy (II)

"Have your ears gone as soft as your mind!? " growled the voice. At
that moment, in crystal clarity, Thalimir heard a loud crash followed by a
sickening thud. The room next to his began to fill with the cackling of a
mad man.

"Find your -prey- Thalimir. Seek to destroy utterly that which you disdain.
" whispered the voice, this time calm.

Thalimir chose to ignore the voice as he rose unsteadily to his feet. He
had to survive. He wouldn't let madness or a madman slay him. Grabbing his
staff he propped himself up, with weak legs he made his way to the door.
Instincts began to kick in, but they did not match his movements.
Fortnights, he thought. I haven't moved in fortnights.

He went for the handle of his door as he stumbled into it. He almost fell
as the door flew wide. He staggered forward, eager to reach the room next
door. He had to find the threat. He had to eliminate it so that he could
rest. He was compelled to. With a shaky hand he turned the handle of the
neighboring room's door. Pushing it open slowly he was met with a bright

It was too much for his senses. He was effectively blinded. He tensed as
he stood in the open doorway, squinting to make out what was in the room.
Blinking he began to make out what appeared to be a man, laughing in glee.
Above his head he raised a large, serrated dagger. With both hands, he
plunged the dagger downwards as he laughed. The dagger plunged deep into
the chest of a small, dark haired girl.

The man turned and Thalimir heard the voice in his mind once more, "Find
your -prey- Thalimir. Destroy it lest it destroy you.
" He couldn't
believe his eyes as his vision cleared. Time slowed as every fiber of his
being trembled in revolt of his senses. He could make out everything
perfectly, but he could make no sense of it.

The man that turned was terribly familiar. Like looking through a pool of
trembling water, Thalimir recognized himself atop the corpse. He was
younger, and stronger, and he still wore the clean and neat uniform of a
Marauder officer. And atop his head he bore a crown.

The two faced one another. The man opened his mouth to speak but his lips
didn't move. When he spoke he spoke in Thalimir's mind. It was the voice
from earlier, that tortured him most, the most clear and most cruel of the
hundreds he heard nightly. "Fight. " it whispered.

Rage overtook him at first. He thought to lunge for the man, to smash his
skull in with his staff. But where rage began, calm calculation took over.
He was weak, and tired, he couldn't trust his own movements. He had to kill
him quickly, and from a distance. With some effort he pointed his staff at
the man and whispered something under his breath.

The man began to scream, writhing in pain and anguish. His veins began to
twist and slither beneath his skin. Small vines with saw-like thorns burst
forth slowly, twisting and slicing. Just before the man burst, Thalimir
stopped. This was enough to make the fool suffer, he thought. He'll
linger, but he'll not survive this.

A vine burst from the man's side and snaked it's way around the leg of the
bed. Thalimir shambled over to the corpse as the man was dragged screaming
across the floor. Thalimir was exhausted, he just wanted to rest. The
young girl on the floor was crumpled and bloody. As she stared at him with
dead eyes she spoke. "There is no time to rest Thalimir. Balance can be
attained, but you must continue to fight.

Writer: Lunez

Date Sun Mar 8 00:58:31 2015

To All New_Thalos Marauders A'kariel Mezlak ( Imm Tashio )

Subject A Thalosian Always Repays Their Debts: Part 1

Lunez stood atop the large bridge arching across the Ishtar river,
overlooking the harbor district beside his right hand man.

"The caravans run smoothly from shore to shore, my Sultan. " A'kariel was
in particularly high spirits that day, as he always was when watching his
hard work come together before his eyes.

Lunez nodded in response. "And the grains from the north, bountiful this
year, yes?

A'kariel nodded once. "Exceptionally well. Our surplus is ripe with
rewards for the hard working people of our home.

"Good, " added Lunez. "Because we're going to be sending a portion of it to
Fort Ironclad, along with a galleon packed with as many barrels of clean
drinking water as we can stuff into it.

A'kariel remained quiet for a short moment as they both stood there
overlooking the harbors. Lunez knew his friend well enough to know what he
was thinking.

"When our city was being harrassed with plagues and disease, it was the
kindness of others that came to our aid without hesitation. Specifically,
those from Thaxanos, and Fort Ironclad. And now it seems the Fort is being
troubled with poisoned foodstores and tainted drinking water. I think we
have a small debt to repay.

Writer: Mezlak

Date Sun Mar 8 03:12:57 2015

Writer: Sibylla

Date Sun Mar 8 05:08:22 2015

To Abaddon All / Fatale Cepralus \

Subject Signature Genesis

The orb was viscous, liquid, but it held its shape as she manipulated it
slowly. It was mesmerizing and it throbbed much like a heart's beat. It
was a perfect focus and as she gazed into it, she remembered. IT

A shudder rippled down her back, a mixture of agony and ecstasy. The mortal
had fallen, down a shaft so deep that her scream was never heard. Had it
not been for the avatar though, it might never have taken an interest in the
fluttering pulse, in the struggling heart beat or the unmoving form as it
lay on its cold stone slab.

The mortal's memories were lucid, enjoyable and wracked with a madness that
only humans understood - but they were also useful. It understood the
dedication of the being. It was, itself, a creature dredged up from the
acrid lakes and sulfuric fields by the Death God. It would take this

Glee now and Sibylla's mouth opened, her elongated teeth showing around a
feral grin while her elegant fingers played and the orb writhed as if it
were alive.

The avatar had drawn out the soul, had left the husk empty and welcoming. A
gift! There'd been no hesitation, though in hindsight a little more caution
would have gone a long way toward reducing the disorientation that wracked
it for weeks afterward. There'd been difficulty in orienting its own
memories with that of the mortal woman - with Sibylla.

That time was long gone now. What remained was the struggle and it
contemplated this even as it indulged a vicious, hungering urge. It wanted
a throat, an arterial release. One of the cornerstones of its existence and
it could not but relish every instance that allowed it to paint with the
blood of another, even if the canvas was its own flesh.

Such artful expression could not, should not, be denied.

Hunger drove her from the shifting mists of the swamp but the mortal
memories of the woman were a sobering reminder that the kingdom demanded
certain decorum. A heavy sigh, a low trickling growl. The tedium of
dramatics did not lure her but longing needed satiation and the Death God
always had need.

Writer: Shalrienne

Date Sun Mar 8 13:15:19 2015

Writer: Ilimilipili

Date Sun Mar 8 17:46:57 2015

To Marauders Verminasia All ( Tashio Roleplay Storyline Imm )

Subject Whispers of the Enemy (I)

In the cold and bitter darkness of the night, the armies of Raije huddled
close. Hampered by dwindling rations and a thousand other minor ills, some
inflicted from without, some from within, the soldiers did the only thing
they could do: They waited.

And as they waited, they talked.

"Food and water is coming from New Thalos."

"Is it? Perhaps our commanders only hope that we won't flee."

"Of course it is! The priest Mezlek assures it."

"You mean the one who hid there? While the darklings came and conquered

"He'll likely abandon us at the first sign of trouble. Only Raije keeps
him here."

A thousand such conversations, All quiet, All slow, began to bubble and grow
throughout the encampment. Soldiers confided in one another, who in turn
confided in each other, and slowly but surely, the fears of the one became
the fears of the many, and questions began to outnumber answers.

"I hear that Thalimir has returned. That he seeks to lead."

"I hear he has lost his mind --- that Mencius has left him filled with
rage and hatred for all."

"I saw him a few weeks ago --- tired and drunk and filthy. What kind of
commander acts such?"

"But who else will lead?"

"I wish Traice was still here..."

Some whispers defied other whispers, and while shouts and yells demanded
attrition and confidence, the whispers spread farther, as such whispers
always do.

"There is order in the darkness."

"That's sedition!"

"Against who? Officers and priests who have abandoned us before?"

"Against Raije!"

"What has Raije done but hurt us? He tried to destroy our fort."

And those whispers brought other whispers, which brought others still. And
some whispers brought blood and others brought cruelty.

"I heard the gate guard has given himself to Necrucifer --- he plans to
open the gates when the army comes."

"We should tell the officers."

"What will they do? We should kill him."

"We should."

Few slept; few rested. Wary eyes watched wary eyes, unsure of who to trust
--- All while tongues lay loose within the lips of those who thought others
might listen. All assured that they were loyal --- of course they were.

And none believed.

"Please! I worship Raije! You have seen me! Please, don't do this!"

"Quiet! The cook heard you praying to Fatale!"

"The cook is a Devionite!"

"Then we'll kill him next!"

And now and again, within the darkness of the fort, a laugh could be heard.

Soft and silvery and musical. And far, far too merry.

Writer: Orom

Date Sun Mar 8 19:29:57 2015

To Verminasia ( All imm rp )

Subject The life of a Slave

Orom walks through the city of Necrucifer in relatively good spirits. He
had been busy today. In just a short time he has killed the bone dragon in
the Temple of Doom and a few warriors, found a magical relic in Gruntz, and
even a small trinket for himself. As he sits in the stronghold, after being
sure to show proper respect to everyone there, he contemplates what he will
go after next. Anything will do really, but it must be something that
challenges him. Otherwise, his master may call him lazy again. Lazy slaves
are worthless. Worthless slaves are sold or even simple killed to be an
example. He was not lazy. But what? The king has everything he could
possibly want, what can a slave give to a King that would be considered

Writer: Joselynn

Date Sun Mar 8 20:49:35 2015

To All Nordmaar IMM RP

Subject Down on the Farm (Part 1)

Joselynn did not understand her orders to work on the farm west of the
city but she knew to follow orders and went without question. She was no
stranger to hard work so when she arrived to find the place in shambles she
just smiled and went to work.

First stop was the chicken coop. She fixed a few loose boards on top of the
coop, collected the eggs, scraped the floor clean, and fed and watered the
chickens. She stood back to make sure All that was needed was done and
walked to the next barn.

The next barn held the sheep and lambs. She stood there admiring the small
lambs for a while some suckling at their mothers and others playing with
each other, such a beautiful sight. This would take a bit of time.
Joselynn started with sheering the sheep, she gave up counting a fifteen,
and when she finally finished with the sheep she put All the wool in bags,
put the bags on the back of a wagon, and since it was late, she walked down
to the lake, washed herself well, and turned in for the night.

The next morning she was back at the sheeps pen before the sun had risen.
She fed and gave the sheep fresh water, bottle feeding those that were too
small to eat on their own, and went on to the next barn. At the next barn
were the goats both billys and nannys. She was extra careful not to turn
her back on the billys for they loved to charge when one was not looking.
The nannys were much friendlier. Once the goats were fedd and settled she
fixed a few sections of fence and went off to the next barn.

Writer: Joselynn

Date Sun Mar 8 21:08:29 2015

To All Nordmaar IMM RP

Subject Down on the Farm (Part 2 The End)

Joselynn reached the cow barn looking at the bad shape the roof of the
barn was in. The water trough needed to be replaced, some straw needed to
be spread on the ground. She set about to her work starting with the straw.
She then found a log large enough to dig out a new water trough so she
started on that job. A few hours later the trough was done so she called a
few hired hands over to assist her in removing the old one and replacing it
with the new one, second job done. The sun was high in the sky by the time
by the time that was done and the roof needed to be done and she had yet to
get to the pigs. One of the hands assisted with the roof so the work went

She quick stopped for a bite to eat and headed to the pigs pen. She arrived
and looked around for things that needed to be done and surprisingly she
found nothing that needed to be done other than feeding, refreshing the
water, and some clean straw. She finished All she had to do and returned to
the farmer to ask if there was anything else he needed done. The farmer was
very pleased with her work, thanked her, and sent her on her way.

Joselynn returned to Nordmaar with a big smile on her face not filled with
pride but happy she could be of help to those surrounding the kingdom.

Writer: Persephenie

Date Sun Mar 8 22:37:16 2015

Writer: Randal

Date Sun Mar 8 23:33:16 2015

Writer: Milleuda

Date Mon Mar 9 03:20:00 2015

To Marauders All admin Tashio

Subject A page from the journal of Blade Finnath

Much has changed over the last few days. Practically All those on the
council are no longer with Fort Ironclad. It's been something of an exodus
to Verminasia, and of those leaving, some are friends. Others, however, are
perhaps a little too eager to lash out at what is being called a failed
attempt to take the army from Raije and give it to Necrucifer.

I have heard many rumors outside the Fort. Anything from poisonings,
infestations, clandestined assassinations, to the Fort being All but
abandoned. Yet, to these ends, I find that the only significant effects are
a few gaps in the command structure.

Fort Ironclad dogs, and the stray cats aided soldiers asigned to fight
pests. Many these animals are slowly moving about with large stomachs.
There is a clerical division within Fort Ironclad that is getting some
experience with an occassional poisoning, and the few that don't make it are
replaced with fresh recruits.

There is a strong lack of concern among the soldiers. Apparently these are
everyday occurances that many have been trained for. The men and women of
Fort Ironclad are prepared to handle about anything. In fact with Raije
displaying his power in such a mighty way, morale is soaring.

I pass up more people with smiles than I do those with expressions of dread.
There isn't a shred of panic to be found. Who ever is named the next
Highlord will have orders and tasks that can only further the sense of duty
and discipline that has been fostered. It's of no concern to anyone what
the world thinks may be happening here. If anything rumors of false discord
would only serve to mask the solidarity of the soldiers here.

The truth of things is that the army is still strong. Raije's will still
shapes it. Any who would lead the army astray are destined to repeat the
history that has happened here. As for me, I continue to do what I know.
Like Fort Ironclad, I must learn, and I must be strong. Like the others I
prepare for the coming of a new Highlord, new orders, and ready to meet what
challanges the future holds.

Writer: Traice

Date Mon Mar 9 10:58:34 2015

To Verminasia Marauders Carrionmaw All ( Tashio Roleplay Storyline imm Raije )

Subject |Hellfire and Pain|

Darkness filled the room, save the candlelight flickering at each point
of the pentagram. As the servant tightened the third limb, Traice shook his
head, nodding to the man.

"Leave me. I will get the last. "

With a bow of his head, the servant backed out of the room, closing the door
behind him. Traice swallowed his fear, and reached into his pack with his
free arm, a glowing, orange phylactery being withdrawn from the hidden
depths of the endless container. As his crimson eyes gazed upon the vial,
he watched as the contents swirled around like molten, living fire. The
bubbles rising to the surface looked like claws reaching for the heavens.
His hand shaking, he pulled the stopper from the jar.

Screams filled the room, as if someone walked through hell. Sounds of
torture and despair, the sounds of a whip slicing through fresh meat, a
dragons roar and a demons howl escaped the glass tube as Traice tiled it
back, pouring it down his throat until every drop was swallowed from its
contents. Quickly, placing the phylactery back in his pack, he managed to
secure his last arm, pulling the straps back with his teeth before it


Like the eruption from a cannon, it surged through his body. Pain. Like
living hellfire it blew through his blood, boiling it from the inside. A
thousand knives stabbing into him at once, a thousand pistol shots tearing
through his flesh. Pain beyond measure filled his body, his head fell back,
and he began to scream.

His skin melted, dripping to the floor beneath him before reforming. He
watched it happen, like a specter haunting his own body he watched the
torment, the thrashing as Traice tore at the bindings, desperate to free
himself. To escape the pain. To run away from this agony. As the skin
reformed over his muscle, you could see the scars, and tears of the flesh
begin to close, leaving little if any trace of their existence. The only
piece remaining - the symbol placed by a scorned God upon his chest.

Snapping, and screams. That was the new sounds to fill the room, as every
bone in his body began to snap, his teeth fell from the roof of his mouth,
replaced by new ones as he spit out the old. Watching himself suffer this
torment, he watched the bulges in the skin as the bones snapped themselves
at odd angles, sometimes several fractures in each, some cutting through the
reformed skin and disappearing, the skin closing on top of it. As his
skeleton lay crushed on the table, it began to mend. Every bit of healing
done over the past week - undone, and at the same time - re-done. Bones
began to mold together, popping back into place with sickening sounds,
muffled by the newly mended skin and muscle. As the specter looked on, the
nude man in the center of the room looked different. No longer atrophied,
bones no longer shattered. He was completely healed.

Writer: Dustynn

Date Tue Mar 10 03:13:28 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Mar 10 09:08:52 2015

Writer: Persephenie

Date Tue Mar 10 10:58:59 2015

Writer: Tahereh

Date Tue Mar 10 12:09:23 2015

Writer: Cassioppia

Date Tue Mar 10 12:31:18 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Mar 10 12:32:04 2015

Writer: A'kariel

Date Tue Mar 10 12:41:04 2015

To All New_Thalos Marauders A'kariel Mezlak Followers of Raije ( Imm Tashio )

Subject A Thalosian Always Repays Their Debts: Part 2

The salty ocean wind whipped over the pier, causing the rigging on the
gathered ships to lash against their masts like angry, writhing serpents.
The Vizier of New Thalos stood with the Captain of the lead supply ship
watching the loading of the last few barrels of water and crates of food,
the preparations were nearly complete and the little fleet would be
departing for Fort Ironclad any moment.

The Vizier, a slender elf with his hood drawn up to protect him from the
harsh desert sun, stood with his head slightly bowed, shadow across his
face. One might get the impression that he wasn't watching the procession
of dock workers and sailors, but the Captain knew better, very little
escaped the Vizier's notice. "Sir... " the Captain began, "We are nearly
ready, do you have any message for the soldiers at Fort Ironclad? "

The elf lifted his head slightly and looked towards the east, towards the
continent of Arkane. The ocean air gusted up again, causing the Vizier's
monk garb to flutter in the wind, he looked for a long moment, giving some
consideration to the question. The Captain felt a creeping unease, and
started to wonder if the Vizier was, by some unearthly power, actually
looking at Fort Ironclad from this great distance.

At last the Vizier turned away from his viewing of the Arsataw Yaw and back
to the Captain, clasping his hands behind his back and smiling charmingly
from within the shaded depths of his hood. "Let them know that the Faithful
of Raije within Thalos would see them grow strong and independent again, let
them know that Thalos respects those that come through great trials.. And
that our debt is paid. "

The Captain nodded as the Vizier made his way down the gangplank and onto
the dock, dock workers, sailors and citizens occasionally bowing their heads
to him as he passed, small icon of Raije dangling from his belt.

Writer: Dustynn

Date Wed Mar 11 01:12:48 2015

Writer: Tahereh

Date Wed Mar 11 02:18:00 2015

Writer: Tahereh

Date Wed Mar 11 02:18:17 2015

Writer: Uryu

Date Wed Mar 11 02:43:32 2015

Writer: Dahakon

Date Wed Mar 11 06:59:27 2015

To All Verminasia Mencius Imm RP

Subject The death of a Bishop

Labored snoring could be heard from the Baron's bedchambers, the Baron
had come down with a serious sickness but would recover. A man crawled on
the ground, moving almost silently towards the bed. As the man stood up
next to the bed it was clearly seen in the moonlight to be the artisan from
days before that drew the Baron's portrait.

Through tightly clenced teeth the artisan whispered, 'May Mencius see my
actions as true and in following with His teachings. Bishop, your judgment
is here and you have been found unfit to continue leading His people. You
think only of yourself and will no longer wear the mantle of Him. ' The
Artisan drew a dagger from its scabbard and quickly slid it across the
Baron's throat. With a series of gasping breaths and convulsions the
Baron's body returned still.

Dahakon Kensey, the Baron of Iolanthe, Leader of Mencius's Church, Shepherd
of His Children upon Algoron, Ecclesiastic of Evil, Defender of the Faith,
Voice of Him was dead.

Writer: Cieran

Date Wed Mar 11 10:42:33 2015

Writer: Persephenie

Date Wed Mar 11 12:21:57 2015

To All Verminasia

Subject The Sea and the Salts 2

10 years ago... Persephenie lay in her cot in her tiny shared room. She
heard waves crash against the ship to her left and her parent's muffled
argument to her right. She couldn't make out what they were saying but the
voices would speed up, slow down and change volumes suddenly. This was
normally a bad sign. She swung her feet over the top bunk and stealthily
jumped to the floor below. She paused to confirm her younger brother's
gentle snore and then crept to the door that joined their room to the
Captain's quarters.

She cracked the door open and peered in. Only the right side of the room
was visible through the crack but it was bathed in the orange light coming
from the fireplace on the opposite side. Her parent's shadows danced around
the wall. "They are children! They deserve to have fun," her mother's
voice pleaded.

"So you think I'll just le' ya go whorin' round any port we come to so the
children can ha'e fun?" Her dad's deep voice had a nasty slur to it.
Persephenie could almost smell the whiskey.

She heard her mother's sharp intake of breath, "I would do not such thing."

"I trusted a whore once. Woke up with nothin' but my skin an' a mighty sore

"I am your wife!" Her mother's voice was high and loud.

"Whore, wife, school mistress, nanny, scullery maid, what is the difference
with you lot? All you're good for is openin' your legs and emptyin' the
chamber pots." His laugh was wicked and short.

"How dare you! How dare you speak that way to me! I've been nothing but
faithful, I've born you two beautiful children, and you repay me with
virtual imprisonment on your rotten ship! You have money. Build us a
house, let your children go to school, let them meet other children for
god's sakes!"

Her father's shadow tipped and swayed, "Oh that's your plan, eh? Break me
down and get a little house of your own to take the fellas to when ol'
Carver ain't around?"

Her mother's shadow took a step back. She knew she had gone too far, "N-no,
that's not what I meant at all. I just thought- the children- they could
use some friends...." She cut off as her voice started to tremble.


Persephenie heard her brother wake up with a small gasp. She turned her
head and put a finger to her lips, "Sshhh." He lay still.

"No Carver th-that's n-not..." Her mother knew there were no words to stop
what was coming. Persephenie kept the door open long enough to see her
father's shadow raise a belt up and swing down hard. She let the door swing
shut with the first thwack.

There wasn't much sound coming through the door anymore. Her mother would
never risk the kids walking in on what was happening by allowing herself to
cry out. Persephenie stood once more in almost darkness as she tried to
slow her beating heart. From the other side of the room she heard small
sniffles and gasps. She crossed over and lay on the bottom bunk with her
brother, wrapping her arms around him, and watching the shadows dance under
the door.

Writer: Symantha

Date Wed Mar 11 19:49:18 2015

To All shadow ( necrucifer religion imm )

Subject Mnemonic Sacrifice

There was a quiescent center within, a piece of her that had been
fundamentally changed by her experiences. The cold there was deep, a shadow
that grew darker - more determined - with the strength of her convictions
and she was without doubt.

The altar was smooth, alive with the power of its sanctification and touched
by a force that far outweighed even her grasp of Necrucifer's divine
blessings. It was awe-inspiring and slowly she opened her eyes to gaze down
upon it, her breath leaving her lips in a cold mist. Her hands were splayed
out upon its pitch black surface, impossibly pale against its perfection.

"High Priest...you are not forgotten."

Her whisper stirred the shadows that roiled above, waiting, watching...

Her hard, steel gray gaze lifted to look upon what He had wrought above and
she was driven to free the dagger at her side. It had been too long since a
sacrifice had come freely. She had been too young to know the first or the
last but some of the tales were known to her now.

"My life is and always will be, Yours." The shadows stirred again, her
whisper echoed through the hollow temple. "To serve You, to give You all,
my purpose."

Slowly the blade parted pale flesh as it scraped across a faded scar that
had only once before fed the hungering abyss. The pain was sharp, deep and
remembered. She had shed her blood for penitence, to show her abiding
submission to Necrucifer. She had done so alongside others, on bent knee -
seeking to prove themselves to an angry God. To survive their punishment
and endure whatever He willed.

The crimson beads pooled in her palm, the pain a remnant of days long past,
and with a decisive movement she turned her hand and let it All fall upon
the black top. A distinctive pulse shook the shadows, shivered through her
soul and settled again. When she looked a second time, only the scent
remained and perhaps a red stain. The dagger returned to its sheath with a
soft snap, a confident sound and she closed her hand on the wound. Her
prayer lifted then, into a temple that had seen and known such greatness as
Algoron had had to offer, and she lifted her hands upward - toward the
glowering statue.

"Your eternal servant asks not for mercy. The strength of her faith and her
belief will show forth instead. If we are worthy, grant us Your grace."

Her chin lowered, showering ringlets around her face and her injured hand
lit with a pale shadow. The wound was gone when she drew her fingers back
from her palm, a simple enough prayer but possible only by His will. She
was pleased to see the scar remained.

"..if we are unworthy, we will know the shattering void of your
displeasure. And will undo the sin or suffer."

Writer: Merint

Date Wed Mar 11 21:49:08 2015

Writer: Merint

Date Wed Mar 11 22:50:57 2015

Writer: Merint

Date Wed Mar 11 22:53:14 2015

Writer: Ferg

Date Wed Mar 11 23:07:16 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Thu Mar 12 08:00:14 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Thu Mar 12 09:09:29 2015

Writer: Tahereh

Date Thu Mar 12 14:24:43 2015

Writer: Orom

Date Thu Mar 12 18:10:46 2015

To Verminasia Marauders ( Imm RP Necrucifer All )

Subject Wreaking Havoc

Orom walks up to the gates of Ironclad cautiously, not knowing for sure
the kingdoms status with the fort. The guards are watchfull, as any guards
would be, but he passes unmollested. With a grin he heads off to the
Dominion with one purpose. To fight. Entering the bar he quickly realizes
he picked the right place. Tables are strewn around the room with loud
soldiers drinking and laughing. Dicing in the corner, and letting the days
cares flow in mead and liqour. Going to the center of the room, he speaks
above noise as the music abruptly stops. 'YNecrucifers will is absolute,
you will be culled and my Master will bring you to heel!
' His words float
across a silent room, then All hell breaks loose. His words had the desired
affect. The bar explodes as drunk soldiers rush him. With his bare hands
he swings his fists, his feet, bashing them hard enough to send them
sprawling across the breadth of the room. Orom roars a warcry as a clay
pitcher is shattered over his head, swinging around he grabs the soldier, a
lieutenant by his uniform, and slams his forehead into the mans face,
shattering his nose and cheekbone. Over and over he smashes the man until
he is left limp in the ogres hands. Dead. Dropping the dead lieutenant, he
looks around the Dominion and grins. Not a single soldier stands. Walking
over to the bar he picks up a half drank mead and almost gets to drink his
celebetory mead when the warning bells being chiming. Heavy footfalls are
heard outside. 'Time to go' With a chuckle he prays the barbarian oath and
vanishes, returning to Verminasia. Happier than he has been in a long time.

Writer: Cheitan

Date Fri Mar 13 13:23:31 2015

To All (Mencius Imm RP)

Subject The Dark Man - Part 1

He awoke with the sense of urgency. Not knowing the cause for this, he
refused the call to action and ignored the itching feeling inside him. With
ease, he used his mind's eye and imagined the anxiety as no more than a
small ball of angry red. He let it turn colors until it was a cooler pink,
and on to a dull gray and then let it go. His mind clear again, he turned
his thoughts to the day's work.

Killing. It was the thing to do... The thing he did. That was his work.

He considered again the instructions he'd been given. He heard again the
voice of the priest Dahakon echoing in his thoughts.

"... Lord Mencius has given a command to us... Seek them out... Judge

Rising from his resting place, he left the commons of the Dungeon and,
passing through the halls and climbing the long stairs to the entry, he went
out into the world again. The forest surrounding the entrance was somber
and quiet, the greens and golds of the trees dulled by the lateness of the
day and the shadows that crept ever higher among the branches. Plunging
into them, he began the search.


Icewall was cold, but he refused to feel it. Denial of self made one
selfless... Denial of weakness made one strong... The frigid air of the
Icy Island could be dangerous to the unprepared. It slowed the muscles and
stiffened the joints, and that was dangerous to him. Everything was

Finding none suitable for his designs in the minotaur city, he passed from
the soft lantern glow of the streetlights and left by the north gate. He
followed the road northward until he spotted a little used trail that ran to
the north and east, away from the more populated regions of the lowlands,
and he took it, treading lightly and silently as he always did.

He was not fond of this place that was called "highlands" by its
inhabitants, but he sought higher vantages from which to help his work, and,
thus, he endured it until the land rose into higher hills. With a little
time and effort, he finally reached a vantage from the stony steps thrusting
out from a craggy spire of rocks, a veritable "thorn" upon the side of a
tall and dark mountain.

Gazing out from his perch, he sought in vain for any lights that might mean
a campfire or the torches of those travelling the roads passing near to
Nordmaar by night. In the distance, the first hint of what would be a rosy
dawn lay as a brighter patch of sky in the darkness. The stars in that
quarter of the sky began to fade, and he lamented the passing of them and
their twinkling flickers. The day was dangerous.

"Do you not heed it, dark man?" A voice said from behind him.

Whirling in sudden suprise, he crouched low and brought up his weapons,
drawn with lightning quickness, to either side of him and prepared to
strike... Nothing! He saw nothing! With eyes darting in All directions,
he scrambled towards where he thought the voice to be, careful to keep a
firm footing beneath him in his haste.

"Do you not listen to the voice that calls to you?" Whispered the voice
again, this time seemingly from just near his left shoulder.

He struck out with his left arm, sending the blade of a long, but slender,
dagger slicing through the empty air at his side. Again, he saw nothing.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, he could feel his heart
hammering in his chest. Panic. Fear. The bringer of mistakes!

"The only this I can hear is the sound my blade will make when it meets
your flesh, Foolish One," he said then, using every bit of his self will to
moderate the tone in his voice, to keep it flat and lifeless, to make it
unafraid and sounding matter-of-fact. Inside he roiled, still feeling the
rhythyms of his heart within his chest and the tightness of his lungs as he
refused to give any indication of his state.


Writer: Cheitan

Date Fri Mar 13 13:32:11 2015

To All (Mencius Imm RP)

Subject The Dark Man - Part 1 (cont'd)

He thought he heard soft laughter then, and it sent a chill up his spine
to hear the grating sound of it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on
end as a cold breeze sighed across the back of his neck. A sense of dread
filled him.

"But I have no flesh to meet your blade, Dark Man..." The voice paused
momentarily, and then, "yet."

He froze in place and stayed very still as he heard the laughter again, but
this time fleeting as it faded off into the shadows of the darkness.

End - Part 1

Writer: Persephenie

Date Sat Mar 14 03:40:49 2015

To All Verminasia

Subject The Singing Harp

Persephenie stepped out of the small house that was serving as her residence
in Shadulence. Sheath breathed in the moist air coming off of the river and
lazily stretched her arms. It was pure luck she had managed to find a place
so close to port on such short notice, but fortunate. Despite this
province's beautiful forests she could never feel quite at home too far from
water. The wind changed direction and brought the sugary smell of pastries
with it. Her stomach growled it's complaint. Sheath patted it placatingly,
It's alright girl. I'm sure we can find you something.

On her way towards the center of the village she passed a fisherman and his
fishmonger wife who called out to her about the benefits of trout on a
woman's bust size. Sheath smiled and waved as she passed making a mental
note to eat more fish. The road wound up to the top of a hill where the
village's well and gallows were both located. Sheath entered the first pub
she found, a bright place named The Singing Harp.

Pastels seemed to be the overwhelming theme, from the draperies to the
candlesticks, but she couldn't argue with the smells coming from the
kitchen. A portly woman bustled about from table to table, coddling the
customers and laying out food like a mother hen to her chicks. Persephenie
stood by the door, unsure of the custom for seating, hoping someone would
notice her plight. Just before the mother hen was about to wander back into
the kitchen she noticed Seph at the door. "My word," the woman cooed, "I
don't believe I've seen you around these parts."

The gentle chatter that had sounded in the pub moments before stopped as
everyone turned to look at Persephenie. Sheath could feel her face grow hot
and that realization only made it grow hotter. "Oh now honey," the mother
hen made her way towards her, "you've turned red as a cherry wine. I didn't
mean to startle you. Have you just come off a boat?"

Persephenie looked down at her swashbuckler attire and realized how out of
place she must look. The chatter started again but no one turned away so
she knew they had started talking about her. As she was about ready to
faint from the attention the woman stepped in, "Back to your food now you
gossips! I'm sure you'll get your stories soon enough."

The customers quickly bussied themselves with their breakfast again but
Persephenie could still sense them watching. A proud smile came to the
woman's face, "There now. They're just as placed as children if you know
the right tone," sheath winked, I'm Millie, the owner of this pub.

Persephenie reached out her hand in greeting but Millie's eyes just flicked
between Seph's hand and her face as if unsure of the gesture. Seph slowly
lowered her hand back down, "I'm... Persephenie."

"Oh well isn't it nice to meet you, dear! Are you just in from the port?
Most don't make it so far into town the short time they stop here," her
voice reminded Persephenie of the cluck of a chicken.

No... Uh, actually, I just moved up the road to Thomas Clancey's old place.

"Thomas Clancey's old place? Oh dear that house isn't fit for a pig and
it's sty. What are you doing out there for?" Millie put her arm around
Persephenie's back, guiding her to a table in the corner and gently pushing
her into a seat.

Well actually I had to move fairly quickly-

"Oh just a second dear," Millie clucked, "you're just skin and bones I can
hardly stand to look at you."

With that she disappeared through a swinging door and materialized again
almost instantly with a full tray. Sheath quickly started shoveling out
plate after plate of food. Three kinds of sausages, several slabs of ham,
eggs, biscuits, porridge, and a delicate little pastry dusted with cinnamon.
Persephenie was about to protest before Millie was gone once more and back
again with a big cup of warm coffee and a cup of tea. Sheath set the coffee
in front of Persephenie and took the chair opposite her, leaning back with
the tea cupped between her hands.

Writer: Persephenie

Date Sat Mar 14 03:44:40 2015

To All Verminasia

Subject The Singing Harp (Pt 2)

I won't listen to one more word of your story until I've seen you eat a

Persephenie reached for a sausage but before she could get there Millie
slapped her hand away. Seph looked up in confusion as Millie set the pastry
in front of her. In this pub we eat dessert first, girl. Life's too short
to go without a bellyful of sugar.

Persephenie picked up the little pastry in her hands and took one delicate
bite. Explosions of maple and cinnamon erupted in her mouth melting into
one singularly pleasant note. "Mmmm!" She exclaimed.

Millie chuckled, "Yes that is what they tell me. Now why did you say you
were here, girl?"

Around her next mouthful of pastry Persephenie explained, "I'm here to take
over the old governor. Countess La'hnore put me here for a trial run to see
what I can do."

"Oh," Millie said with a frown, "Well now that might be a problem."

Writer: Uryu
Date Sat Mar 14 18:17:43 2015

Writer: Grumf
Date Sun Mar 15 04:39:21 2015

Writer: Grumf
Date Sun Mar 15 04:48:48 2015

Writer: Amyth'lynn
Date Sun Mar 15 10:19:44 2015

Writer: Valdarion
Date Sun Mar 15 18:19:04 2015

Writer: Valdarion
Date Sun Mar 15 19:46:41 2015

Writer: Valdarion
Date Sun Mar 15 20:27:22 2015

Writer: Cieran
Date Mon Mar 16 07:47:00 2015

Writer: Belatrise
Date Mon Mar 16 17:36:23 2015

Writer: Belatrise
Date Mon Mar 16 17:37:52 2015

Writer: Chevald
Date Tue Mar 17 12:55:30 2015

To All Conclave Sebatis Imm ( RP )

Subject The Return of the Red Guardian

The artifact of power swirled before the Bakali, its vision twisting and
distorting as his eyes glazed over it. This was a favorite spot of the
assassins, but today his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking of the vision
he had while he was sleeping... That of the child skipping down the street.
The child had passed beggars and brigands, but none seem to pay him any
mind. Chevald was watching from within the shadows of a run down building,
but the kid continued straight towards him. Chevald shifted uneasily as he
recognized the visage of this child, as it had greeted him once in the past
before he had entered the tower a second time. He was unsure what was to
come, but he had felt that it would not be pleasant. He was chosen as the
Prophet of this being, and had let it, as well as the towers, down. As the
child approached it stopped skipping, his feet no longer padding on the hard
ground. It's echoes stopping as the child took care to approach with

Once the child reached the bakali, Chevald dropped to his knees in prayer
towards this being. Now that the child was face height to the assassin, it
only scrunched it's eyebrows in concern and said, "Do better".

A crackle sound from the artifact brought Chevald's attention back to the
present, he shaking his head to try to physically clear the memory from his
mind. He uttered a prayer to Sebatis, apologizing for his lack of diligence
in the duties that he was brought to the towers to do. A necromancer had
fled the towers with its specialized books to that of the Dungeon. Students
were dying to the enemies which seemed to grow with each passing day. Other
Guardians had been brought in to fill the void that Chevald's absence had

His presence had been growing as of late, but the Bakali knew it was not
enough. His efforts needed to be redoubled in order to regain the respect
he once wielded. Brushing of the dust from his armor, he rose to his feet
unsheathing his weapon and preparing to exit the chamber when a crackle once
more brought his attention to the artifact. With a backward glance the
artifacts image seemed to settle for a flash on a small child with a large
grin, winking back at Chevald before it's image wavered and shifted once
more. With a grin of his own, he strode out of the room once more with

Writer: Vaedryn
Date Tue Mar 17 22:59:45 2015

To All Abaddon New_Thalos Fatale IMM RP

Subject A Sinking Feeling

A kender aboard the Deliverance, his father's ship, in the ballroom
rather than the torture room. Invited, by blanket invitation to New Thalos,
and permitted to leave alive. Vaedryn was disgusted. He had to pull his
cards out just to keep his hands from twitching toward the noisome kender's

It didn't help that the ballroom had been decorated in a nauseating display
of yellow and purple. The theme of moons and stars was in poor taste as
well. Were they ignorant of the fact that a "Masquerade of the Moons and
Stars" would be seen as a reference to Shalonesti?

This would not have occurred in his rule, nor his father's. Even Seir and
the cow that preceded him would have only allowed a kender on board as a
sacrifice. This was, in Vaedryn's view, an affront to the Lord and His
kingdom. A disgrace. This was no longer the unreservedly, unapologetically
evil Abaddon of his youth. The swamps had been watered down. And no
wonder, when its citizens were so delicate they whined about getting their
feelings hurt. Poor, weak babies.

Vaedryn had to admit that an alliance with New Thalos was a good move,
however, and during the reign of a red-aura'd Sultanate was the only time it
would happen. Abaddon's strongest allies were All on other continents. But
this felt... Wrong. Something was going on behind the scenes, and Vaedryn
wasn't sure if even the current Count knew what it was.

Abaddon's poor showing at the event did not help matters, either. So many
from New Thalos attended that it was difficult to keep track of them all,
even though the ball was confined to two rooms. Vaedryn did not like that
the Thalosian Vizier seemed to disappear soon after arrival, and no one
witnessed him leave. That sort of laxness in security was disturbing.

It seemed clear that Abaddon was weakened, no longer in possession of its
former glory. This alliance, though a sound one if made between equals,
seemed more like an act of desperation to stay afloat. How much of
Abaddon's independence would be retained? What did New Thalos have to gain
from any such arrangement?

And how much longer before the urge to jump ship became unbearable?

Writer: Shuge
Date Tue Mar 17 23:13:36 2015

Writer: Cheitan
Date Wed Mar 18 01:48:12 2015

To All (Mencius Imm RP)

Subject The Dark Man - Part 2

<Trickle drops! My blue veins leaving! >

With unseeming stealth the dark form, not quite as black as the night, eased
its way closer foot by careful foot to the intended target whom sat at his
ease near the small garden. Looking up into the heavens, perhaps at the
myriad of twinkling stars, the careless fool was oblivious to the silent
death approaching him.

The daggers are drawn, and lo! They do not shine but are as stained as the
wielder! No light there..."

<O drops of me! Trickle, slow drops>

A short distance, a blur of movement and the smell is All there was to it.
That beautiful boquet floated about in the sudden breeze, permeating the
once earthy tones of growing things with the very essence of life itself.

What a waste to clean the dinner knives thusly! All of that tasty jam
spread upon dead bread. Ha!... Dead bread! He chuckled to himself.

<From wounds made to free you whence you were prison'd, From my face, from
my forehead and lips,
From my breast, from within where I was conceal'd,
press forth
red drops, confession drops, >

Looking up, the killer noted a darkened space in the starlit yard, an alcove
made of smooth river stones and no doubt filled with a statue to Zandreya,
or Sebatis? The goddess of the wild things, he finally decided. The body
just cried druid to him... Not that "it" would ever cry again now.

It makes no noise, my laughter. As a sigh among the roaring of great waters
it is to any ears present.
He filled up the shrine with his presence, a
cloud of gloom smothering the alabaster statue beneath. He giggled to think
of himself "sprawled" thus upon the image of Zandreya, light and dark, as if
they were lovers in some lurid pose.

<Let them know your scarlet heat, let them glisten, Saturate them with
yourself All ashamed and wet, >

His tools spotless once more, he sheathed the weapons at his side, tucking
them behind the folds of his sable robes. His actions brought no attention
to him, but he let no sense of comfort enter his thoughts lest he err.

Hunger should be sated. The Dark Man is a faithful one. Such a downfall in
one so... Fastidious? I have found the key, but where lies the lock now?

<Glow upon All I have written, or shall write, bleeding drops,
Let it All be seen in your light, blushing drops.*>

- End of Part 2

* The partial poem lines comes from Trickle Drops! by Walt Whitman, of course!

Writer: Shuge

Date Wed Mar 18 23:14:25 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Thu Mar 19 07:24:31 2015

Writer: Phemia

Date Thu Mar 19 12:07:09 2015

Writer: Shuge

Date Thu Mar 19 16:46:48 2015

Writer: Shuge

Date Thu Mar 19 16:46:52 2015

Writer: Liviya

Date Thu Mar 19 20:31:47 2015

To Arkane Verminasia Lowenir Damerus Traice All ( Imm Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Choosing to Bleed

The thing Liviya knew, even before she awakened, was that she was very, very
cold. And as her eyes fought their way open and came to half-focus on a middle-
aged Dark elf woman standing above her, she realized that it was not sleep she
was waking from, but unconsciousness.

Even when she became aware of the stickiness surrounding her, it took her longer
to understand her situation than it would have, had she been properly lucid. When
she realized, though, that there was only one reason her household would have
summoned Hallymira Disparra, she felt a stab of icy panic in her gut.

Her gasp alerted Hallymira to her wakefulness, and the elf put her hand upon
Liviya's forehead, clicking her tongue.

'Hush,' Hallymira chided. 'All is not yet lost, but it will be if you do not
control your stress.'

Liviya hardened her gaze at the elf, who pursed her lips before giving in to the
wordless demand.

'Days, at best. Four months is out of the question.'

Liviya gritted her teeth against the pain and the realization, silent for a
moment as her groggy mind raced, desperate.

'Mwalimu,' she whispered. 'The magic that... Lowenir... I have to... Get me to

Hallymira shook her head. 'You are not going anywhere, Le'liwiyatan.'

'I have to,' came the answer.

'No,' Hallymira said. 'I will get your aunt and bring her here.'

Liviya clenched her fists, fighting away the shiver that tried to course through
her body. 'She won't.' The priestess took a steadying breath and tried again.
'She won't travel.'

Hallymira gave a resolute nod. 'She will for you.'

Writer: Shuge

Date Thu Mar 19 21:37:49 2015

Writer: Shuge

Date Thu Mar 19 21:38:33 2015

Writer: Persephenie

Date Fri Mar 20 16:06:36 2015

To All Verminasia

Subject Settling In

Persephenie awoke in her small bed, in her small room, in her small
house, and that was just how she liked it. Millie had tried to insist she
help Seph look for a residence more fit to her title but it was too late.
Seph was already comfortable. She'd spent most of her life on the open sea
moving from place to place but always on the same ship. So she'd grown both
a love of traveling and a desperate need for consistency, a place to hang
her boots up.

Her room was filled with the smell of salt and coffee and she knew her cook
must already be here. She took her boots off the side of the bedpost and
slipped them on. She had grown accustomed to sleeping in her day clothes so
all she had to do was slip on her vest and she was ready to walk out the

Her bedroom led directly into the kitchen, as this was no lords home, and
the kitchen fire was meant to keep the whole house warm. Brutus had to bend
almost All the way over to stand over the stove and the utensils and pots
looked like doll toys in his hands. Ham and eggs spit and hissed on the
stove top. "G'mornin' miss," he growled his greeting clearly not awake yet

"Good morning Brutus," Seph slid onto the small table that had been set with
a plate, utensils, and a delicate flower in a vase. She held the vase up to
Brutus and raised an eyebrow.

"Me ma, she said if she can't convince you to get a better house we can at
least make this one more lordly," he chuckled, "Hey have I thanked ye fer
lettin' me on here? I know there were better choices but with me lay off
the loggin' company it was gonna be a hard time fer me."

Seph waved her hand as if to shoo the sentiment away, "I won't hear another
word. You cooked at your mother's pub All through your childhood and anyone
trained by that woman will know how to cook."

"Aye, yer right on tha' account. Nuthin' but the best comes out o' her
kitchen," he slipped the eggs and ham onto a plate and set it in front of

"I'm just sorry I couldn't offer you a room here. Hopefully construction on
the servants quarters can begin quickly and you won't have to travel in so
early just to get me breakfast."

"Ain't no trouble miss," Brutus grinned as he set down a huge carafe of
coffee on the table next to her plate, "No trouble at all."

Writer: Erebaal

Date Sat Mar 21 03:57:20 2015

To All Chaos Justice Scorn ( Malachive Storyline )

Subject Another Side, Another Story I

Reality split asunder, spilling forth tendrils of aetherial energy that
squirmed in the air before fading, the stray motes of mana unable to sustain
their existence in the real world for longer than a heartbeat. The vaguely
door-shaped hole in the material plane shuddered, Algoron protesting its
continued existence as something traversed the depths of the portal,
something of enough mass to stretch the gate wider to admit the travelers.
In a span of seconds, however, it disgorged its passengers- a group of six
men in bloodred cowls, each bearing the same mark- the eight-pointed star of
Chaos- and each bearing a share of the burden upon their shoulders, the
unmoving form of a giant among men, a behemoth in an unrecognizable mess of
metal, a good portion of it melted to slag.

As the figures stepped back into the plane of the real, the portal behind
them shuddered closed- the magic sustaining the gate faltering as the sole
occupant of the stone chamber into which they alighted rose to greet them.
Like the other men, he wore the bloodred robes of the cultist. Unlike them,
his face was wizened and creased with the experience of decades and his eyes
hooded with the experience of things best left unknown. In a glance, he
assessed the situation, 'The Everchosen. What happened? '

One of the men in the front, carrying the Everchosen by one of his great,
half-melted pauldrons, glanced over his shoulder at the unbreathing warrior,
then at his fellow carriers, 'Haven't a clue, Gatekeeper. Found him like
this in the middle of a battlefield, half burned to the ground All around.

The Gatekeeper crept forward, half-waddling with his advanced age and
stooped posture to peer into the younger man's eyes. His stare was keen and
uncomfortably perceptive, as though ferreting out truths that lurked in
half-known details, 'And what of his assailant, lad? '

The cultist shook his head, uncertain as to the line of questioning, 'No
sign, Gatekeeper. Whoever did this is long gone. He's.. Gatekeeper, we
need to pass. I have been a part of more retrievals than the rest of this
' he jerked his head backwards, catching his cowl on a partially slagged
spike of steel jutting from the Everchosen's pauldron as he indicated his
fellow bearers, '- and I've never seen him so still. I think he might be-'

The Gatekeeper harrumphed and stood aside, indicating the six men and their
burden to pass him with reluctance, 'He's not dead, my boy. Mark you that.
The Lord of Chaos won't let His Everchosen go so easily. Get him to the
healers, then come find me here. I want to know what you saw.

The six men- pallbearers, it could almost be sensed- grunted as they set
themselves in motion, their de facto leader sparing a nod to the Gatekeeper
as they hustled past, through the twisting passageways that threaded the
earth beneath the Warp proper. Their circuitous route had an inexorable
destination, and there was nothing that would delay them on this mission.
Those who thrived in the Chaotic cult knew well the implications of a
retrieval. More than one had been carried out in recent memory. Those too
stupid to get out of the way of the Word Bearer, living or near-dead, were
known to find themselves the next sacrifice to the dead Lord of Chaos.

The double-doors of the healers' chambers were made of burnt vallenwood,
swinging open on surprisingly well-maintained hinges to admit the
pallbearers and their burden. The men within looked up immediately, some of
them murmuring to themselves in dark tongues, some wreathed in smoke from
the pipes that they drew upon, inhaling mild hallucinogens to aid them on
their introspective journeys. The largest among them, a half-ogre wearing
the skull of a wolf on one shoulder, stepped forward, 'The Everchosen. '

The leader of the pallbearers nodded, 'Yes. He's hurt. He-'

The shaman cut him off 'I have seen it already. Set him on a slab. We must
work quickly. No time to waste.

Writer: Erebaal

Date Sat Mar 21 04:16:12 2015

To All Chaos Justice Scorn ( Malachive Storyline )

Subject Another Side, Another Story II

The pallbearers sat the Everchosen upon one of the stone slabs that
served as cots in the healers' chambers, backing away as the healers- men of
various backgrounds and disciplines, crowded in, laying their hands upon the
half-melted armor of their leader. The leader, the shaman that stood head
and shoulders above his cohorts, laid his hand upon the disfigured bestial
mask that hid the Everchosen's face, 'We must remove this armor, brothers,
to see the flesh beneath. Indomitable though his spirit is, it cannot
remained tethered to a body so broken. Even now it struggles to remain with
us. I can feel it. Work quickly, and we shall make whole what was brought
to ruin.

The healers set to work and the pallbearers, sensing their part was played,
began to disperse, save the leader. A morbid curiosity bound him, as it had
the last three times he had helped carry the Everchosen's broken form off
the field of battle. It was not an uncommon phenomenon. The Word Bearer
was a prodigious fighter, his lust for battle a dangerous beast All its own,
though of late the omnicidal bloodlust had begun to wane, replaced with an
equally implacable determination. There was a vaguely disconcerting
pressure, a certainty to every movement, a stubborn vigor that kept the man
on his feet and fighting after sustaining harm that would have slain lesser
men outright, even with the daunting armor that the healers had begun to
strip away laboriously.

The man cringed as the healers worked, the removal of the platemail- he
could not help but marvel that the thickest pieces were nearly an inch
thick- accompanying by the sound of flesh tearing as the leather backing
beneath peeled away from the melted metal. The ruined pieces clanged to the
ground with a dread finality, rolling haphazardly as the healers continued
their grim work. The removing of the leather armor was no better, the hide
stuck so firmly to the Everchosen's body that knives were drawn, cutting
away strips of flesh that were too tightly adhered to the protection
embracing it. In his few years of dedication to the Warp, the cultist had
never seen the Word Bearer in so poor of straits. The great butcher's body
was a mass of hideous burns, some having melted the flesh like wax around
the joints, where the metal armor could not protect his body fully. His
neck was a crusted black, seared and maimed, and his forearms, his hands- by
Malachive his hands. His hands were little more than strips of rarefied
flesh clinging to blackened bone, the worst of the cutting having been
through the thickened gauntlets that lay in dismantled ruin on the stone.
Only his face remained hidden, and with trepidation did the cultist watch
with baited breath as the shaman himself laid his hands upon the slagged,
bestial horned helm and pull, revealing the flesh beneath.

The shaman gazed down, almost sad as he observed what lay hidden, 'I shudder
to think what must have done this to you, my Lord, that we see you in such a
state. It is not your way to reveal your weakness to any, and it shall
likely cost us our lives to give you strength enough to walk again. You
have been Chosen, however, and we who walk the Path shall give body, blood,
and soul to you who lead us. May the Tree judge our efforts worthy when we
have crossed over to settle the balance of Death who would claim your soul
' He laid his hands upon the Word Bearer's face, hiding the horror
beneath thick fingers and calloused palms. His gaze rose to meet the
cultist who had borne the Everchosen, 'Collect his armor and take it to the
forges. When he walks again, he shall not go wanting when his battle-spirit
demands he cast off the fragile shackles of death.

The cultist stared, slack-jawed at the half-hidden sight beneath the
shaman's hand. It seemed to take a moment for the words to sink in, and he
blinked, his shocked torpor fading, 'Y-yes, Spiritmaster. You're sure you

Writer: Erebaal

Date Sat Mar 21 04:33:44 2015

To All Chaos Justice Scorn ( Malachive Storyline )

Subject Another Side, Another Story III

The shaman snarled, beckoning with a blood-stained hand to the ruined
mail on the floor, 'Doubt ill-becomes you, brother. Set to it, so that we
may go about our task.

The cultist nodded, turning his back on the healers and leaving the chamber,
feeling dread weigh down his footsteps. He had watched the entire thing,
and could barely see the rise and fall of the Everchosen's chest, barely a
sign of life. And his face...

The man shook his head violently, gritting his teeth against the
implications of what he had seen, of what it could portend. He had work to
do, perhaps enough to quell his fears for the time being. Procuring a cart
was of no great difficulty- the workyards that had begun radiating out from
the Warp aboveground had plenty, and the tunnels that wormed through the
Tropican soil were many and wide. By the time he had returned to the
healers' chamber, however, the doors were shut, the ruined plate of the
Everchosen discarded in a heap on the muddy stone outside.

A few minutes of strain later saw the ponderous mail loaded in the wooden
cart, and with a grunt of further effort, the cultist saw the cart begin to
move. The next destination was some distance away, and it did not give him
any quiet when he gazed down at his burden to find the ruined mask of the
Everchosen glaring back. Once a symbol of fear, the horned helm had been
blasted with something terrible, a great heat that had melted the bestial-
nearly demonic, even- visage into something nearly skeletal, an echo of what
once was. The image stirred still-fresh memories, and the cultist stopped,
just long enough to turn the misshapen helm around on the cart before he put
his back back into the effort, dragging the slagged accoutrements of the
Warp's Everchosen to its destination.


The forgemaster of the Warp looked up at the creaking of a cart, the
squeaking at odds with the rhythmic clanging of his forgehands setting about
the business of armoring the forces of Chaos for their impossible war. The
dwarven man grimaced as he turned from his work, one of his underlings
jumping in to quench the bar of steel that would soon become a sword as fine
as any fit for the vaunted Champions of Chaos. The Forgemaster trundled up
to the panting cartbearer, his ugly features not at All enhanced by the look
of disdain that he cast over the ruined armor that the man bore, 'An' wot's
thes, lad? Bringin' me lads some slag ta melt down? Ah see ye tried ta get
tha work started early, but-

The cultist cut him off, eliciting a grunt, 'Spare me today, Hodvir. You
should recognize this armor by now. You've repaired it often enough. The
Everchosen was... This is his armor. I'll let you figure what sort of
state he is in judging by this mess. The healers don't know if they can
bring him back. Just.. Just try and get him something to fight in, if they
manage the impossible. Maybe the spirit of Malachive's got something left
in store from beyond the grave. I don't know..

Hodvir seemed taken aback for a moment, several things clicking All at once
before he gave a curt not, flexing his gnarled fingers, 'Ye know Ah don'
care much 'bout tha whole business a' Malachive like ye, but ye lot've got a
good fight on yer hands and tha coin aint bad fer tha work. Tha dead don'
come back, an' et sounds like yer lad's crossed over, but if'n yer even
deader God's got a trick or two left in 'im and tha git stands back up, then
'e'll have somethin' ta go an' get killed in again, ye better believe.

The cultist nodded, half-assured as he turned to depart once more, 'Just do
your best.

The dwarf laughed as the man departed, 'Lad, Ah -am- tha best. '

Writer: Phemia

Date Sat Mar 21 11:40:20 2015

Writer: Shuge

Date Sat Mar 21 13:34:31 2015

Writer: Andreyna

Date Sun Mar 22 00:40:56 2015

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Gray_Church Zandreya Zypher Religion Imm Rp

Subject Planting Festival: Sharing Her Gifts

Andreyna Sha'evlas sat crossed legged within the Garden of Zandreya in
the Shalonesti forest. The soothing sounds of the gently flowing brook
filled the air, splashes of fish, ribbits of frogs, and light chirps of
birds accompanied it, offering a peaceful harmony, a delightful melody to
blissful garden. The priestess smiled softly, thoroughly enjoying the gifts
of the Mother's natural music.

The shalonesti elf placed several cloth pouches in her lap, then began
rummaging through them. She had been celebrating the gifts of Zandreya this
month, the Planting Festival. Though the day of rememberance wasn't until
the end of the month, the Queen of the elves, her cousins, and her allies
had decided to hold a couple of festivals, while the Gray Church would hold
their own on the actual day of celebration. Shalonesti would be presenting
the Gray Church with a special gift, a vallenwood seed that would planted
and grown within the courtyard of one of their churches.

The festivals had been rather exclusive, by invitation only, this was to
keep any enemies of the Vallens and Althainia from ruining the blessed
celebrations. The priestess felt this decision tugging at her heart. Was
it the right decision? A blessed visit from the Mother reminded her that
not only did she lead Her elves, she would also lead Her people. She needed
to reach out beyond the Vallens.

The Queen rarely stepped out of the gates of Shalonesti. The Vallens were
by far the most beautiful, the most tranquil of All the kingdoms, and the
priestess always felt safe, secure, and at peace within the walls of the
Mother's kingdom. However, she knew the Mother was right. She knew that
she would have to venture out and speak to those not of the Vallens, reach
out to those who may not know of Zandreya's gracious gifts to Algoron. The
elves, Laendyn, and the Kyorl were protective of their Queen, but she would
be fine, she would not place herself in harm's way, she would not ever risk
the life of her kin.

Andreyna pulled several smaller cloth pouches out of one of the larger
pouches in her lap and placed them aside, laying them upon the rich soil of
the garden. Her hand reached into another large pouch, pulling out a
handful of seeds, which she poured into one of the smaller pouches. She
tied the smaller pouch tightly and set it aside. At the festival held by
Althainia, she and the Empress had handed out various seeds and shoots,
encouraging the visitors to take and plant them in honor of the Mother. Her
plan was to do the same for those across Algoron.

The priestess poured another handful of seeds into a small pouch, a few of
the seeds spilling out, catching the attention of a couple of birds flying
overhead. The bluebirds landed next to the elf, hopping close to her,
completely at ease around the faithful of Zandreya. The elf laughed softly,
'Go on.. You may have them', she whispered softly to the birds who promptly
began pecking the ground, scooping up the tiny wildflower seeds.

Andreyna smiled softly, thus was the circle of life. She did not worry
about picking up the seeds, the birds were welcomed to them. Though the
seeds may not be planted and they may not grow, the birds were fed and they
would continue to thrive. Not only were plants and trees a gift from the
Mother, but so was every creature inhabiting Her precious environments. All
parts of nature were a blessing from Zandreya.

Writer: Andreyna

Date Sun Mar 22 00:49:39 2015

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Althainia Gray_Church Zandreya Zypher Religion Imm Rp

Subject Planting Festival: Sharing Her Gifts Continued...

Her hand reached into a large pouch pulling out a handful of sunflower
seeds, which she placed into a smaller pouch and sealed tightly placing it
aside. She would distribute these seeds across the lands, hoping that some
would honor the Mother by planting them, some may open the bags and simply
empty them, still offering a chance for roots to take hold, for the wind to
carry them about, or for animals to feed upon them. Thus, the Mother's work
would still be done.

The priestess was confident that many would plant the seeds. Most enjoyed
flowers, and many of her seeds were fruits and vegetables, also gifts from
the Mother, and something that many people would need. The priestess looked
up as she heard a tiny squeak, a gray squirrel sat on its haunches in front
of her, eyeing the handful of sunflower seeds in her hands. The priestess
smiled as she looked up at one of the vallen trees, a couple of tiny heads
peered at her from a hole in the tree, the young of the squirrel in front of
her. She slowly presented her hand to the squirrel, the center holding a
few sunflower seeds. The squirrel approached her promptly without fear, its
tiny hands accepting the gifts, which were promptly stuffed into its cheeks
before it scampered away, climbing the vallen tree and entering into its
home and greeting its awaiting family.

Andreyna reached into another pouch, her hand pulling from it seeds of
various vegetables which she placed into a smaller pouch, tying it off and
setting it aside. Another squeak came to her ears, the squirrel was back,
followed chipmunks, and birds who hopped around her squeaking and chirping
with excitement, spreading the word of the priestess and the seeds in her

The priestess giggled merrily as she reached into a pouch pulling out a
handful of seeds. She tossed her hand forward, showering the area around
her with a variety seeds. 'And you All shall also receive Her gifts! '

Writer: Thrazgash

Date Sun Mar 22 08:48:56 2015

To Marauders Thaxanos Grumf All ( Tashio Kyri Raije Imm )

Subject The Gates of Ironclad: Assessing the Situation I

The Highlord stood side by side next to the Dwarven architect that High
King Grumf had promised him.

One was armored in full plate regalia, the other in more casual, fine
quality leathers. One stood several heads higher than the other, but the
other had a beard several hands longer. The hair of one was pitch black
with the vigor of youth, the others, a stark white with wisdom of many years

Truly, the physical differences between the two were few compared to the
similarities. Muscle bound, stiff backed, arms crossed, and pipe in mouth,
the two stood side by side with their eyes fixed across the cobbled street.
They stared past the patrolling soldiers, past the milling civilians, past
the scurrying rats, and past the merchants plying and carting their wears.
They were thinking the same thing, but either said nothing for what seemed
like, and could very well have been, nearly an hour.

The Dwarf glanced up at the Orc, took another drag from his pipe, and
finally broke the silence.

"Damn fine mess were starin at here, Highlord. Whole section o tha wall es
gonna have t come down t fix et... No way around that unless ye want a
shite job done o et."

Thrazgashs eyes remained on the crack in the outer wall of the Fortress.
He, too, took a drag from his pipe.

"Of course I dont want a "shite job" done of it", he replied gruffly.

The Dwarf chuckled, "O course ye dont! I reckon ye wouldnt o come All tha
way t tha igh King to ask fer me assistance otherwise."

The architect tapped the ash from his pipe onto the ground and stored the
piece in his pocket. He drew in the fresh, Arkanian air through his large
nostrils before exhaling with a contented sigh.

"Were et any normal demolition job, Ahd suggest usin a few barrels o
firedust to get et done quick n easy, but this jobll require ah much finer
touch. Well ave t make measured cuts en tha surroundin stone then carefully
chisel our way through either side o tha crack.

After that, well ave tae knock down tha center Ah suggest goin from top t
bottom t prevent any unneeded accidents -, haul away the ole stone, and
level out the ground en tha edges o the remainin wall. THEN wae kin start
buildin ye a brand new wall and ah solid gate t go wit et!"

The Dwarf found pleasure in thinking about the work ahead. It was what he
was good at and what he enjoyed. As monumental as the task ahead was, it
made him happy to be doing something on such a large scale... For the Orc,
however, it was a massive weight upon his shoulders and his coffers, and an
equally massive headache.

Writer: Thrazgash

Date Sun Mar 22 08:52:11 2015

To Marauders Thaxanos Grumf All ( Tashio Kyri Raije Imm )

Subject The Gates of Ironclad: Assessing the Situation II

"Might be fools folly, but can we reuse the old stone in the construction
of the new wall?"

The Dwarf snickered, "Sure, ifn ye want that shite job Ah spoke of earlier.
Yer beer off just throwin et over tha damn cliffs."

"Waste not, want not, Thane. Ill have the men haul it into storage. Well
use it for the trebuchets."

The architect nodded his agreement, retrieved his pipe from his pocket, and
repacked it. He scraped together a piece of flint and steel to ignite the
pipeweed and took a long drag.

"Well ave t build scaffoldin, some cranes, support beams... Ahll take care
o assemblin the list o supplies well need fer that n me lads will oversee
the construction o these structures. Ah kin ave the tools n stone wae need
imported from Thaxanos.

The brunt o the labor, the portcullises, n tha gates Ah leave t ye n yer
men, ighlord. Ah reckon each section o the wall should take eeeh... Two n
ah alf weeks t see finished. Two ifn we bust our arses.

The only question that remains es... When do wae begin?"

For the first time since the two had come out to inspect the wall, Thrazgash
lowered his gaze down to the Dwarf.

Firmly he responded, "Immediately."

There was no telling when the Gods would lift their sanction against open
warfare, but even under this forced "peace period" the Verminasians were a
crafty and burdensome foe. He had little doubt they would attempt to
interfere with, delay, or otherwise sabotage this project at every turn.
The sooner this hole in the fortress armor was filled, the better.

The architect nodded at Thrazgash and together they made their way back to
the stronghold to set their plans into motion.

Writer: Aviandha

Date Sun Mar 22 10:16:43 2015

Writer: Ilimilipili

Date Sun Mar 22 11:26:19 2015

To All Verminasia (RP Marcaus Wyltte)

Subject The Songbird of Itholasia - The Admiral's Arrival

As the Requiem's sails lowered, the Admiral surveyed the shoreline before
her. The land before them was cold and harsh; perhaps the least hospitable
of Verminasia's provinces. Some would call the barony of such a snowy and
barren rock an exile; an insult. Far from the capital, far from the pulse
of the city --- they would call it torture.

They were fools.

Long years of neglect had left the people of Itholasia half-savage; men of
action and hard work. Some, she knew, were pirates of the Pux, who gained
their wages from strangling the shipping lanes; more were hunters,
fishermen, and lumberjacks, intent upon their work and little else. There
was no love of nobles here; no respect for the time-honored system of lord
and vassal. The people, or at least those she had seen so far, were
ruffians and little more. Men and women shaped by the cruelty of the
elements, more than by human interactions.

She loved it.

The Requiem drifted towards shore, moving slowly closer until the anchor
caught. There was no dock here; at least, none large enough to accommodate
her sweet and beloved ship. The crew was dispersing readily for shore
leave, their boisterous ways endearing; they would see their fair share of
vice and mayhem, she was sure --- they always did. As for her...

She had business to attend to.

"Come along, dear."

"Yes, Miss Susan!"

Writer: Meriani

Date Sun Mar 22 11:27:52 2015

To Verminasia All Religion Imm RP Necrucifer

Subject The Good Can Be More Evil

She walked out of Abaddon with what she thought what a new lease on life.
No more pain, no more broken bones, no more blood, and healing she could
dedicate her life too
so she thought. She carried her heavy packs to what
she had called the "Too Good" city to try to start her new life, trying to
leave All the old memories behind her.

She cautiously walked close to the gates of Althainia and noticed that no
guards even looked her way, she continued on and entered the Blue Gryphon to
have a drink. After some time, she decided to speak to someone of
citizenship, who gladly called upon the Empress. Although the Empress was
surprised to see her she welcomed her with open arms.

Days passed and Meriani started to notice that citizens started to set her
apart from them, some made snide remarks, and others mocked her in public.
Meriani felt totally disgusted at the display of disrespect these supposed
"good people of the light" had been treating her with less dignity than
those of her old ways.

In just a short time, Meriani realized that, although she loved her old
path, the path of goodness was definately not the path she wished to take.
She had found her way back to the life she loved, to the people who love and
respect her, back to her beloved evil ways, back to the Master Necrucifer.
She knelt down in His temple and prayed a prayer of pure joy.

Writer: Persephenie

Date Sun Mar 22 15:18:54 2015

To All Verminasia

Subject Itholasia-Shore Leave

Persephenie wandered down the frozen streets of Itholasia holding a warm
fur cloak tight around her body. "Yet another thing I appreciate about
Shadulence," she muttered as her leg sunk deep into a snow bank, "It's fit
for human life." She stopped and stared down at the offending leg as if to
burn it off her body. The snow started to melt into the boot, soaking the
wool socks she'd loaned for the trip. She dramatically pulled her leg out
and stood silent in the dark street to try to collect her rage. As she
shivered she started to repeat a calming mantra but the thought was wiped
out by a loud bang and screams coming from one of the few lit buildings on
the street. People swarmed out around two men locked in a brutal fight.
The kind where the difference between your blood and your opponent's blood
is trivial and the only thing that matters is the delectable crunch of bones
and flesh under your own strength.

She gazed at the fight only partially interested until one of the men's leg
bone exploded out of his skin and he went down screaming. She scoffed at
the pitiful display and turned down the nearest alley. She knew that
eventually she would find a pub, get a mug of spiced wine, and debauch with
her fellow sailors. But for now she wanted to get the lay of the land.

Her foot steps echoed off the walls of the buildings on either side. A
delicious danger sparked around this area and her mouth watered with a need
for it. Halfway through she noticed it wasn't just her footstep's she heard
anymore. She stopped walking and so did the footsteps behind her. She
slowly reached into her cloak and grabbed the dagger she kept on her either
side of her belt. There was a breathless moment of electricity and pounding
blood as she watched a single snowflake fall to her arm and melt. Then with
one swift movement she unsheathed her daggers, swung the cloak behind her
shoulders, and spun around to meet her enemy.

A large man stood a few arms lengths away with a mace to his side.
Persephenie smiled, "Pleasant night sir is it not?"

"Aye mistress tha' it is," he growled, "It'll be much more pleasant once I
am in possesion of that fancy cloak o' yours."

"But good sir why would I ever give you my cloak? I am a small woman in a
cold land. Surely a man as masculine as you could find his own warmth?"

"Tha' I could mistress. But I think your blood's warmth is wha' I'm really

Her fake smile dropped from her face revealing a cold, unfeeling mask, "I
will put it to you simply. I am not the easy prey you take me for. Leave
now or this night I will tie my boots with the sinew I pull from your

Without another word he rushed forward and brought the mace down hard. She
easily sidestepped his lumbrous approach and brought one dagger to his
throat and one to his stomach. "You're right," she whispered into his ear
with a crazed smile on her face, "I do feel warmer."

The lingering crowd that had gathered outside the pub turned their heads to
the alley as they suddenly heard the death shrieks of a dying animal. They
wrapped their arms around themselves protectively and muttered a few remarks
before wandering back into the pub, their blood lust suddenly grown cold.

Writer: Alparslan

Date Sun Mar 22 19:58:39 2015

Writer: Persephenie

Date Sun Mar 22 23:54:38 2015

To All Verminasia

Subject Persephenie's Penance

Persephenie looked up at the three ships docked in the harbor and cursed
Poeduck under her breath. Thanks to his short-sighted prank - "That wasnt
even funny," she muttered to herself - she was given the job to clean All of
the ships in Verminasias Armada. She glanced sadly at the small pail and
brush she had been given for the task and made a brief prayer to Devion to
be swallowed whole by the sea. When no sharks or aboleths wormed their way
out to take her she sighed and made her way onto the Aria.

Many, many, many hours later she walked off of the last ship, exhausted and
covered in filth. As she was about to head home she took a moment to admire
her work. Out of nowhere a huge wave washed over the ships, spreading
seaweed and fish and general sea gunk over All three ships. Tears of
frustration formed around her eyes as she trudged back to the ship to finish
the job she was given.

Writer: Tahereh

Date Mon Mar 23 16:48:48 2015

Writer: Persephenie

Date Mon Mar 23 16:50:28 2015

To All Verminasia

Subject Back In Shadulence

"Excuse me miss but I have a few more figures for the ledger," a mousy
haired woman peaked her head through the door to Seph's office.

"Oh yes, thank you Ada, please come in," Seph reached her hand out for the
papers, "Did you speak to the leader of the Logging Guild about the pest
problem yet?"

Ada came into the room but made no move to hand off the papers. "No ma'am
not yet," she said clearly nervous.

"One, do not call me ma'am. You call me Seph and I won't tell you again.
Two, there's no need to be nervous around me. I don't know who you did
clerical work for before me but they must've been a brute for you to be this
way," Seph met eyes with Ada and smiled to emphasize the next point, "Only
the people who have wronged me have any need to fear me."

Ada glanced up to the scar on Seph's skull and then down to the one on her
lips and seemed at a loss for words.

"These scars were given to me long before I was ever a warrior and they are
nothing for you to fear," Seph tried to sound as reassuring as she could
while hiding her own self consciousness.

Ada seemed to make a decision. She approached the desk, set the papers
down, and rested her hand on Seph's. Seph jerked back from the gesture as
if it had burned her and jumped out of her seat. Ada's eyes grew wide and
in her attempt to step backwards she tumbled over a chair and fell on her
butt. Seph saw confusion in the young girl's eyes and immediately felt a
pang of guilt.

"I'm-I'm sorry Ada," Seph stepped around the desk to where the girl had
fallen, "I just... I have a hard time being touched by people I don't know.
I just need a little warning."

The fear in Ada's face seemed to dim but the confusion was prominent in the
frown of her mouth and the crease of her eyebrows. Seph murmured a quick
calming chant, took a big breath in, and reached out her hand to Ada. Ada
tentatively grasped as if she would be the one who was burned this time but
Seph pulled her up easily. "See?" Seph smiled, "Nothing to worry about!
Now go see the Logging Guild we don't want to lose any more of the crop."

Ada nodded wordlessly and scurried out. Seph sighed and went back to her
seat. She mouthed her calming mantra and looked down at her shaking hand.
Disgusted by her own weakness she grabbed the lantern that was illuminating
the windowless room and snuffed it out. Enveloped by darkness she was
finally able to relax.

Writer: Vaedryn

Date Mon Mar 23 19:25:28 2015


Subject (fore)Shadow(ing)

He had seen her. Across the crowded betting area of the arena, he was
certain it was her. Well... Pretty sure, anyway. Had she seen him, too?
He had to assume so. She was trained to notice things, and good at it. But
when the crowd cleared to watch the competition, she was gone. She was good
at that, too.

It was probably for the best. What would he have said? Something about the
recent trouble in the Fort, probably. But everything was hollow, it had
been too long. At this point, starting over was probably the only way.

At this point, she probably already had.

Maybe this was why Master Midnight had warned him against marriage: In
darkness, even your shadow leaves you.

Writer: Maricela

Date Mon Mar 23 22:26:28 2015

Writer: Ayzrael

Date Tue Mar 24 10:28:51 2015

To Abaddon ( Fatale Imm All )

Subject | Hot Chicks |

A gentle sigh escaped his lips as he lifted his cerulean gaze to the
fleeing sun high above. The sky seemed like a still from a painting - fiery
red and welcoming in its approaching darkness, yet to one who basked in such
nights, it felt like the very same, old, tired sunset. Slender digits
pushed back the hood of his cloak, allowing the fabric to settle loosely
down about his shoulders as his footsteps came to a halt at the northern
gate of Abaddon, the place he, despite many misgivings, called his home once

"It definetly must be the hot, undead chicks."

The words were spoken to none but himself, for as it had been for ages,
Abaddon truly was, the Kingdom of the Dead. Sure, a fair few woke almost
infrequently as he, but, as he looked over to the Skeletal Guard, he noted
that they could be just as dead. It was not enough to awaken - one had to
inspire. And Abaddon lacked inspiration, for quite some time now.

A soft, dejected chuckle filled the air and the Reaper drew the hood of his
cloak once more above his head. Such divine matters were better left to
those best suited for it. "As for me..."

Flashing a toothy grin the man turned on heel and headed southward into the
Kingdom of Fatale. There had to be a hot undead chick somewhere - or at
least a bottle of spirits that would make this night half interesting.

Writer: Shalrienne

Date Tue Mar 24 14:59:12 2015

To Marauders Thaxanos Grumf All ( Tashio Kyri Raije Imm )

Subject Work for Solaria - The Gates of Ironclad

Shalrienne lead a hard pace through the forests northeast of the Fort.
Wolverhylle was a half a day ride from Ironclad, and there was work to see
about. Though she had told the builders to start on a new fleet of small,
one man ships, that will have to wait. Riding into Solaria, she reigned her
horse, dismounting outside the portmaster's office and strode in. A portly
man sat at his desk, not even looking up he says curtly 'Go away, ain't got
no work today.
' The man smelled of old wine, sweat, fish, and pitch, but
the General made no movement. After five minutes the man looks up and
nearly knocks his chair over. 'Lady General, I.. I didn't know it was you,
what... What can I do for you?
' Shalrienne motions him to sit and speaks
in her usual calm tone 'I need ye te stop wha' ye bae buildin. I need honed
sumbe' sent immediatlae te th' fort. Suppor' beams, scaffoldin', an' pitch.
I also wan' a gate buil' 'ere.
Shalrienne lays a piece of parchment on the
table, figures and dimmensions marking the scrap of paper. Nodding the
portmaster takes the scrap and thinks a moment then says matter of factly
Two days for the scaffolding, we have that already we just have to take it
down and ship it, the gate will take five days, no less. Who is paying for
this may I ask?
Shalrienne turns toward the door and simply states 'I am.
Ship th' scaffoldin t'dae, the gate en five daes time. Ef et bae late, I
will fin' a portmaste' tha' cin meet mae deadlines. '
. With that, she
walks out the door. With the scaffolding and the gate taken care of,
Shalrienne goes to the modest town hall to see what business, if any, she
has to tend to before making the ride back to the keep. Even with
everything going on, she wonders when the next time she can go home for tea,
and whether she will have to drink it alone.

Writer: Azheri

Date Tue Mar 24 16:10:49 2015

To All Bloodlust Nordmaar

Subject Azheri's dream of retirement

The time has come.

Azheri reached into his old diary that he kept from his days as a Gareth
Knight. He writes in the last few pages, coming to a halt on the very last
line where he writes, "Last on the list - to retire." He requests an
audience from Nordmaar, but they were not to be found this day. He wishes
to reside along the best of the human warriors known as the Vikings.

Writer: Andreyna

Date Tue Mar 24 22:41:57 2015

To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Laendyn Arystos Zandreya Fatale Imm RP Religion

Subject Safe from the Unnatural

'If he has need.. Or if he worsens, call upon me', Andreyna Sha'evlas
spoke in elvish to Sarlaithi Sha'evlas, druid and healer of the Vallen's
sacred groves. The priestess looked once more over the elflord sleeping
quietly in a hammock that was hung between two vallenwood trees. She then
turned, leaving the groves and walked down the streets of Shalonesti. It
was dark out, the air was cool and the sounds of the night were All around
her- the ribbiting of frogs, the chirping of crickets, the soft flow of the
river that ran through the elven kingdom.

The shalonesti elf approached the south gates, the guards swinging them open
without question, allowing her to leave, though eyeing her suspiciously.
The warden of the guards nodded in silence at two of the gateguards, the
pair of elves immediately melding into the shadows, stealthily following the

The elven priestess made her way through the Vallenwood forest, the light
elven steps of her bare feet leaving no imprint, making no sound even as she
stepped onto fallen leaves upon the forest's floor. Andreyna continued on,
never looking behind her, never aknowledging the kyorl whom she knew were
closely following her, eventually reaching her destinastion- the Church of

Quietly, she entered the temple. The statue of Zandreya rose before her,
the priestess fell to her knees, gazing up longlingly at the image of her
blessed Mother. 'Gracious Mother, ' she whispered in elvish, 'You are
always with us.. You have told me so from Your own blessed lips.
' 'We are
greatful for this
', the Deacon continued, 'thankful to have such a caring,
strong, compassionate Goddess whom we do not fear.. Whom we call Mother..
For we are your children.

The Queen of the elves closed her eyes, sighing softly as she recalled the
night's events. Arystos Sha'enlas Starchaser stumbling into the grove, his
hand holding tightly to a bloodied bandaged pressed against his neck, three
large gashes bleeding profusely. The priestess immediately aided her
Senator, providing the wound with delicate care as he explained what
happened to Laendyn Shalonost, Speaker of the Stars.

The elf had went hunting after a demon, seeking answers, asking questions
about how to destroy the vampires walking upon Algoron. The demon did not
take too kindly to the questions of the elf, slashing at the Senator,
wounding him greatly. Like many elves, and many other inhabitants of the
world, Arystos wanted an end to the damned.

Her husband, her lifemate, her Speaker, Laendyn Shalonost had put his life
in danger while hunting the foul creatures. This caused worry among the
elven nation, the Speaker should not be anywhere near the hideous demons,
his life was far too important. Now Arystos, her Senator, her mentor, her
closest friend had been injured severely, also putting himself in harm's
way, trying to find a way to end the existance of Fatale's children.

'He said he knows how to end them.. He says we are safe from them.. That
Your protection will keep us from harm
', Andreyna looked up at the statue of
Zandreya, silent tears sliding slowly down her cheeks, 'I know this is true,
Mother, I know You will never allow them to truly harm us
', the Deacon
whispered softly, 'We thank you, most gracious Mother, we are safe within
Your arms, within Your kingdom. We thank You for keeping our Speaker, my
dear husband safe and for allowing the Senator, my dear friend, to return
safely to his home.

Leaning forward, Andreyna pressed her lips to the feet of the statue,
'Always we will remember, we will give thanks, we will appreciate All that
You do for Your children. ' Rising to her feet, the Queen left the Church
of Zandreya, her kyorl falling in behind her. She made her way through the
forest, entering the safety of the Mother's kingdom.

Writer: Ayzrael

Date Wed Mar 25 20:46:30 2015

To Abaddon ( Deccan Fatale Imm All )

Subject | Solitude |

Exhaling softy, the Reaper entered the Basillica, hood of his cloak
resting upon his shoulders, his cerulean gaze somber, face a mask of
neutrality. It had been a very long time since he had stepped foot in this
most holy of places, and as he paused to look around a small smile came -
very little had changed. He looked to the skulls which held the candles
that lit the length of the chapel of Fatale, to the tapestries that hung
upon the walls, the fringes dripping with blood.

He did not disturb the acolytes who were praying over the most recent
sacrifice to the God of Death, instead, he slid quietly into a pew in the
back, his eyes drifting upwards from the corpse to the symbol of Fatale
emblazoned above the altar. He thought back to the last time he beheld the
symbol of his God - it had been a night that spoke volumes to his youthful
arrogance, to the idiocy that had overcame him.

As the drunken words once again came to him in the silence of the Basillica
he shut his eyes, hoping against hope that he would not utter a single
thing, but knowing that hoping would not change actions already commited in
the past. As the mental replay came to an end, he shook his head. His
youthful arrogance was atrocious to even him upon reflection. Forcing a
disgusted chuckle, he once again opened his eyes to the symbol of Fatale.

"Weakness is to be culled. I have removed such, my God. Arrogance and
Pride have given way to wisdom and knowledge of Your Will. With these hands
I shall strive to bring such vision to fruition. Not many are worthy of a
chance to attone, this I know. I thank You, Fatale, for such an
opportunity, and thank thee for blessing those in your stead with the
ability to do the same."

Without a backwards gaze he made his way out of the Basillica, and northward
into the Swamp-land that had birthed him, to begin his attonement that the
man he once called brother, the man who was Count had decreed.

"Your will be done, my Count."

Writer: Isabel

Date Wed Mar 25 23:01:48 2015

To Justice All ( Roleplay Nazca Immortal Austinian Religion )

Subject The Priestess: The Mantle of Leadership [Part I]

A sharp, rapping knock at the door drew Isabel back from the quiet of her
afternoon meditations. She opened her brilliant blue eyes as she rose from
her knelt position and called out loud enough to be heard as she made her
way to the large desk at the center of the room. "Please, come in." The
door opened hesitantly as a young man carrying a rather large satchel on his
shoulder entered the room and paused on the threshhold. This was not one of
the Wrath's soldiers but by the looks of his clothing, a citizen from

Isabel laughed gently, shaking her head as she beckoned the courier to come
toward the desk where she now sat. He seemed anxious, as though he wished
to be anywhere else at the moment but there. Isabel rested her clasped
hands on the desk as she watched him, both brows raised in curiosity as she
waited patiently. The courier shuffled the parchments in his bag around as
he searched for the missives he was supposed to deliver. The poor man's hand
shook as he finally produced the letters and held them out to her. "These
are for you, L-Lady Executor."

The priestess offered the courier a kind smile filled with warmth and
sympathy as she reached out to take the letters from him. "A new job, this?"
The young man blushed and nodded his head quickly as he averted his gaze to
the rug on the floor. "You are doing just fine, I assure you." Isabel's
words were sincere and comforting. The courier glanced up at her as she
leaned back on the large throne-like chair. "In fact, you have done so well
today that I would like to offer you this to show my appreciation. " As
she spoke, Isabel took out a large coin purse and placed it on the desk
before the young man. His eyes widened in surprise and he shook his head
quickly once more. "No, Executor, I cannot accept this. These missives...
I was told you would not be happy to recieve them..." Isabel lifted a
hand to stop him and the courier's voice tapered off. She spoke gently but
with firmness. "There will always be wars and rumor of wars. But through
all things, the Father's Light is there to guide us and bring us comfort
despite whatever troubles may come. May you go with the Father's blessings."
She smiled gently at him and pushed the pouch of coins a few inches closer
to the young man. He returned the smile with a look of relief and tipped his
head in respect to her before taking the coins she had offered. "Thank you,
Lady Executor." The priestess waved her hand dismissively with a soft
giggle before saying, "You may simply call me Isabel, if you like." The
courier nodded slowly. "Thank you, milady Isabel." He tipped his head
once more before heading back out the door, closing it more loudly than he
had likely intended to behind him.

Isabel smiled to herself and laid the letters down on the desk. She did not
think she would ever get used to being called Executor. The title brought
memories of her first days in Justice and with them them many smiles and
giggles as she recalled how nervous she had been herself. In fact, she had
not been so different from the courier.

With a wistful sigh, she returned her attention to the missives waiting for
her and withdrew a letter opener from the desk. These matters fell to her
for the time being, for however long she was to serve Austinian's Army in
this capacity. She hoped that she would do well by both her soldiers and
the Father.

Writer: Traice

Date Thu Mar 26 00:26:56 2015

To All Verminasia ( Roleplay Tashi-ho Tashio )

Subject |Expedition I|

Traice glanced upwards at the sky.

"A small fortune.. And for this? Bah. Its always raining. "

The crackling of the fire fought a losing battle against the continual rain.
The heavens seemingly opened up only over Lamordia, beating the rain
downwards, over-filling the ground with water, leaving a thin layer of water
over the muddied ground.

Traice scowled, wiping the back of his hand across his nose as he sniffled.
His eyes narrowed at the now burnt out fires, his demeanor unpleasant and
angry. The water dripped down from his soaked raven hair, dripping down
across his pale flesh to his clothes - now sitting in soaked garments.

The downpour slowed, keeping the rain at an annoyingly consistent misting.
Traice stilled a moment, hearing the cracking of twigs, the clop-clopping of
tracks in the mud. He leapt upwards, hand moving to the hilt of his
longsword, eyes squinting into the darkness along the path as a figure came
into view on horseback, trodding through the splashy-thick muck.

Iohan rode into view. His helmet sat on his lap as he approached. A
beastly looking giant dressed in full, spiked battle armor, bone mixed in
with the arcanium like some savage out of tales. Iohan grunted, kicking one
powerful leg over the horse, mud splashing back at Traice, covering his face
in the splattered of the glop. The beastial figure strode over to Traice,
nodding to him before sitting on a log.

"Wet here. Muddy. "

Traice rose an eyebrow, glowering at his uncle.

"Is it? I hadnt noticed. "

Iohan grunted, shrugging his powerful shoulders.

"Food? "

Traice rolled his eyes, reaching into his pack, pulling out a loaf of bread,
tossing it over to the now-seated man. Iohan caught the bread, smirking at
Traice while ripping it in half, taking a large, bear-sized bite.

"Why have you not made a fire? Its easy. "

Traice let his mouth fall agape. Hands wordlessly, and dumbfoundedly
gesturing to the doused fire.

Writer: Traice

Date Thu Mar 26 00:33:06 2015

To All Verminasia ( Roleplay Tashi-yo Tashio )

Subject |Expedition II|

At that moment, the air began to shimmer, a portal spreading widely over
the area - a tall, spindly young man stepping through it. Traice raised his
eyes in the hope that he would fall flat into the mud. Mataus raised his
eyebrow at Traice, a deft hand movement causing him to float in the air,
resting him gracefully on top of a log.

"Its.. Very wet here cousin. Does Verminasia not have land which isnt so
wet? "

Traice sighed, prodding the fires remains with his sheathed sword.

Mataus lowered his eyes to the dampened out remains of the fire.

"You should build a fire. It keeps you toasty. Youll catch sick without
it. "

Traice frowned, opening his mouth to speak, but shaking his head in
response. Instead opting to flick bits of the soaked wood out of the fire
at Mataus - which were quickly set on fire, incinerating.

"See? Fire. "

Anthaus loudly plopped himself down on a log next to Mataus, causing the
entire party to jump. As Traice lifted his head, he was greated by a -very-
large wolf.. No two of them. One tilted its head curiously at Traice
before what seemed like a shrug - sauntering off to go lay down under the
covers of the trees.

"Its very rainy here. I quite like it. Good choice. "

Traice smirked, opening his mouth to speak before being cut off.

"But you should have built a fire. Its cold out tonight. "

Smirk vanishing, Traice stood up. The slow glopping sounds as he moved his
way through the miserable camp to address his family.

"Now that youre All here, three weeks late Bandits have taken up residence
in the old manor. They hold this land, and strangle its resources. I have
bought it from the crown, and it belongs to us. We will-"

Anthaus cleared his throat, raising his hand as he cocked his head to the
side, looking at Traice confused.

"Well.. We did have bandits. The wolves got hungry. Let me show you. "

Traice and the group stood in front of the large manor, beaten down and
covered with vines, the cracked, decaying wagons stood - long looted outside
the gates. Some with torn canvasses, others portraying the obvious
blackened wood signs of a razing. The group moved forward, examining the

Writer: Traice

Date Thu Mar 26 00:34:22 2015

To All Verminasia ( Roleplay Tashi-Nooooo Tashio )

Subject |Expedition III|

It was in obvious disrepair. The house itself was used as a base for
bandits, who did everything they desired there. Womens undergarments
covered the entrance room, likely in All rooms as they split up.

Traice wandered from room to room, heading downstairs into the basement as
he carefully marked down some interesting points about the land. As he
raised his eyes from the parchment, his mouth fell open.

A large latex body-suit hung from the ceiling in front of him - hopefully
with no one still in it. Traice looked around the body-suit, and entire
basement covered in various implements of debauchery and torture. Several
collars laid open on the table in the middle of the room, All reading:

"Property of Argg Vro'thane"

Writer: Diuxa

Date Thu Mar 26 02:31:02 2015

Writer: Cheitan

Date Thu Mar 26 17:35:54 2015

To All (Mencius Imm RP)

Subject The Dark Man - Part 3

He had never quite experienced the feelings that coursed through him, had
never had to face many feelings at All really, but much less one that was so
persistant. After spending his life dedicated to discipline and detachment,
the dark man did not know how to handle the discomfort of anxiety.

The shadow followed him on his nightly journeys, mocking him with slight
touches and laughter from the shadows of the night. He couldn't see what it
was, which only served to heighten his sense of worry. It hadn't tried to
speak to him since the night on the ledge in Icewall, but he could sense a
message in All it did. And the message was not well received.

That it was more powerful than he went without saying. The dark man had
very little knowledge of the mystical and even less of beings without form
or face. Magic was simply a tool to employ when working, nothing more. If
only he could see what it was!


It was time. The fading daylight sent long shadows stetching across the
floortiles of the cell where he took refuge. Checking his weapons, though
he doubted they would be needed for the task at hand, he left the room and
slipped into the sparse forests just to the west of Siobhan.

Finding the ledge again wasn't difficult, nor was he much tired from the
quick journey from the east, over the moors and up into the hills until
finally reaching the craggy face of the mountain. He peered about the
clearing near his former perch, but, as he suspected, it was quite empty of
hiding places, not even a nook was present for a person to shelter in.
Scratching his head, he returned to the finger of rock overhanging the ledge
and sat down to wait.

It was long past midnight before the quiet moaning of the wind was broken by
an ominous chuckle from nearby. Tightening his grip on his cloak, he made
no move to show that he'd heard and refrained from turning around towards
the direction of the sound.

"You don't come here often enough for it to be chance, Dark Man. So, you
must be ready to talk..."

The voice was low and soft, a sibilant hiss that reminded him more of snakes
than he cared to admit, but he kept his eyes forward as he replied, "To whom
do I speak? Or to what..?"

A slight pause ensued before he heard the response, "A concerned servant of
your Lord, and a helper to some, I am."

"A servant of my Lord? And a helper, you say, though what makes you think I
need help, I cannot imagine. I am quite capable as I'm sure you've come to
see as you follow me about, skulking like a petty thief."

The dark man shivered as he heard the grating laugh of the voice, and he
wondered suddenly if he hadn't erred in bringing this meeting about in such
a place. He was very aware of the drop before him and the stony earth far
below. He dared to turn around then, pivoting on his feet as he crouched.

"Why don't you show yourself to me, concerned servant? Is your form so
hideous that you hide it from even the stars above us?"
As he finished
speaking, he prepared himself to flee if necessary, palming a small vial in
his hand, an escape potion he kept for emergencies.


Writer: Cheitan

Date Thu Mar 26 18:12:42 2015

To All (Mencius Imm RP)

Subject The Dark Man - Part 3 (cont'd)

"Hideous? No, I would not call my kind that, though I was not made to
please the eyes,"
the voice rasped from somewhere in the darkness.

The dark man could not place the direction from whence the voice came, a
small knot of anxiety causing his stomach to clench. He thought he caught
sight of a darker patch of darkness against the cliff face, but couldn't be
sure if it wasn't just his eyes playing tricks on him.

The sibilant voice continued, "Yes, you do quite well, Dark Man, and I am
sure your master is quite pleased with you. But you could do even better
with my help."

Still anxious, but also curious now, his mind worked quickly, still trying
to formulate a way to capture this intruder in his life, or, perhaps to end
it altogether in a more final way. He moderated his tone to seem as if he
was lowering his guard, becoming more relaxed.

"Yes, you said that you were a helper, but you did not say how, servant of
my master. If it is a partnership you seek, then I would not bother. I
work alone." He edged forward then, still crouched, wanting to be away
from the cliff face.

"No, no, it is nothing like that, I assure you. I know that about you,
friend. I know that you would no sooner take a partner than I would! No,
that would be quite... Impossible."

Letting an edge creep into his voice, an edge that he really felt, he
answered the voice back.

"Enough of this banter. Tell me the help you offer or begone! Your
presence is an irritation I will soon put an end to, let me assure

The darkness chuckled at him, sounding very amused at the implied threat.

"Calm, Dark Man. Patience," the voice soothed, "I will explain it All to
you, though I doubt you will be able to understand the kind of "help" I can
give to you. Let us just say that my "presence" is one of the main

Shaking his head emphatically in the the darkness, the dark man shot right
back in anger.

"Forget it then, because I do not wish your presence, or ANY presence for
that matter. Get you gone if that is your "help." A sword, some armor,
these things would be welcome, but I work alone, as I've already told you."

Again, the laughter ensued, louder this time and somehow nearer though the
dark patch against the cliff had not stirred.

"You misunderstand me, Dark Man! You don't understand what it is that I can
give you. Would you really turn me away so quickly? Do you not wish to
become more powerful? Do you not wish to please your master even more than
you have?"
The voice spoke in a wierd tone, its rhythms hypnotic and
soothing. "Do you not wish to elevate yourself in his eyes?"


Writer: Cheitan

Date Thu Mar 26 19:41:38 2015

To All (Mencius Imm RP)

Subject The Dark Man - Part 3 (cont'd)

His mind felt somehow slow, his once racing thoughts now in a miasma of
confusion and doubt. Sure he'd like to make Mencius notice him. Sure, he'd
like more power, more standing among the other servants... Who wouldn't?
He kept his eyes on the shadowy patch, a hazy cloud of pitch it seemed to

"Ah, yes. I can see the indecision in you, Dark Man. I have watched you!
I know what it is you do, and I'm telling you that I can make you much, much
better! How could you not want that, hmm?"

Turning his head then, he spoke, his voice wavering from it's normal muted
tones to a more timid timber. He blushed in shame.

"I do want that, but what could you possibly do that I have not already
done? I've trained hard and long, I've gone without and I've sacrificed my
very being to be as I am. Look at me! Look at my skin and my clothing!
What help for the black devil?!"

He saw it then. He saw it clearly! The shadowy haze detached itself from
the wall and drifted closer to him! The hairs on his neck stood on end even
as his mouth grew dry and his tongue thick. It stopped a short way from
him, close enough for him to reach out and touch it, though he dared not!

"Black devil? Stop being so dramatic... Are you going to cry, poor, poor
Dark Man? But that is not your name, is it, Cheitan? Are you not the great
killer, Cheitan of the Dungeon?!"

His face flushing a deeper crimson, the assassin's voice grew cold and
angry, a rage growing within him that he had not felt in a long time, an
emotion he'd normally suppress at All costs. It wasn't safe, anger. It led
to mistakes.

"Do not call me that, you cloud of ogre's gas. I make no claims of who I
am, and I need you not, I think. You have nothing to offer, but your foul
presence, so begone from me."
He rose, as if to walk right through the
cloudy form.

"I would not do that were I you, Dark Man. I would not walk away from the
best thing that will ever happen to you. I am an opportunity, you see? You
will not have another chance at this, and I do not make fun at your
expense... Rather I would give you aid to make true your vision for
yourself. You see, I need your help, too, and your success is tied to my
The sibilant voice crooned at him with the force of sincerity.

Standing tall, he watched as the dark cloud expanded in front of him,
matching his shape as if it were a man made of misty darkness. He shivered
despite his resolve, his eyes narrowing as he backed up slowly once more,
back towards the finger of rock hanging over the cliff. He toyed with the
idea of using the vial, but chose instead to find out more.

"How is that, my success tied to your own? What is it that you want from
me, Shadow?"

Crooning still, the voice took on a seemingly pleasant tone, as if they were
two friends, sharing a mug of ale at an inn and gossiping about the serving

"Shadow... I like that, I think, for that is really All I am. Much better
than "ogre gas," was it?" A rasping chuckle, and then, "I do not want
anything from you, Dark Man, like I said, I merely want to help you.
you need to do is be receptive to it, really. Perhaps you could just invite
me into your life with some token words, or some gesture that would show me
you are ready to accept my help... Do not knights kneel before their king
to receive a blessing from them?"

"I bow to no king, Shadow. What game do you play?" The assassin was
growing angry again. Really, he'd had enough of this game.

"No, I am no king, but you don't listen..." The voice grew hypnotic again,
sending the dark man's mind into confusion as it permeated the air around
him, "Why don't you do as I ask? Is it so hard to bend knee as a sign of
contrition against your ego?
Here is your chance, killer. Here it is
before you! Take it. Take it. Take it..."


Writer: Milleuda

Date Thu Mar 26 19:45:19 2015

Writer: Mercerion

Date Thu Mar 26 19:46:44 2015

Writer: Mercerion

Date Thu Mar 26 19:46:58 2015

Writer: Mercerion

Date Thu Mar 26 19:58:53 2015

Writer: Cheitan

Date Thu Mar 26 20:05:24 2015

To All (Mencius Imm RP)

Subject The Dark Man - Part 3 (cont'd)

Despite his reservations, Cheitan dropped to his knees, his head bowing
down towards his chest in defeat. This alien will was much stronger than
his own. He felt weak, much weaker than he'd ever felt before. Sparks of
panic were consumed by the fog in his mind.

The rocks of the ledge were chilly beneath his hands as he placed them
before him. He tried to clear his mind, but gave up soon as he felt what
seemed to be icy fingers at the back of his neck. Fear came on him then,
and he wanted nothing more than to quaff the vial holding the escape potion
and disappear away from this nightmare on the ledge, but he was held fast in
place. The fear he felt was nothing compared to the shock of what happened

"And now, you are mine, Dark Man! Writhe as you like, but it is done..."
The voice, shrieking as if an angry wind, pierced Cheitan's ears.

It was a bite. He was sure of it, he could feel the teeth in his throat!
Ice and fire exploded into his neck, and he gasped and shook like a man
being shocked by lightning. He cried out in pain, and then he was loose!
Scrambling backwards, the last thing he felt was himself falling from the
ledge... He knew no more.


The dark form rose from the base of the cliff. The sense he felt in his new
body was amazing, better than he'd felt in such a long, long time. He felt
the hunger on him, much more palpable a calling it was in this flesh. But
still, he smiled. It was going to be a beautiful day, he thought.

Cheitan strode forward into the woods, searching for a dark place to take
refuge in against the coming of the Sun.

The End

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Mar 26 20:56:51 2015

To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din

Subject Defending the Tower ''-HEY!!!- (A Meeting With the Chairman)'' (Chapter Three: Part One)

''In conclusion, by moving our lumber inventory from the tower, and into
one of our shops, we can expect an increase in overall sales, for they would
be available at any time, instead of being constrained by the availability
of the Chairman. Cost-benefit analysis indicates that flee Nordmaar would
be the ideal location for such. Nordmaar's inventory can easily be divided
between the other stores. ''

The majority of the Board nodded its assent as Illiquin, Vice-President of
Accounting, slowly gathered up his papers and climbed down from the
boardroom table, returning to his seat. With the passing of each year, this
had become increasingly difficult for the elderly gnome. But his drive to
work and maintain his age-old routine caused him no complaint. He settled
inot his comfortable leatherbound executive swivel chair and awaited the
Chairman's feedback.

It did not take long for the Chairman to respond. ''I can't lie. We've
tried this in the past, and sales were a bit sluggish. But, I can't find
fault in your argument. Full availability is more lucrative than limited
availablity. And I agree, that Nordmaar would be the ideal location, should
we do this. ''

Ixi grabbed a translucent bottle of water from his right and took a long
sip, replacing the cap and placing the bottle back down on the table. He
looked around and continued. ''Anyone have any issues with this plan? ''

'I do!" Olliwac, Vice-President of Marketing, Advertising, and Promotions
exclaimed vigorously, waving his arms to and fro. ''That's -my- store!
Logs are sooooooo boring! I could sit there All day and never see anyone!
I say we compromise! How about this... '

The Board looked on quietly as the animated kender gestured madly with his
arms. ''I know a guy in Tokaido. He's a fireworks salesman. He can get us
all sorts of cheap fireworks! We could sell them -and- our logs at the
Nordmaar store! We could call it, 'Fireworks and Wood'! And we could hold
demonstrations! And hand out samples to the kids! How fun would that be?!

Ooof was the first one able to formulate words after the kender's ludicrous
proposal. ''Hmm. Ooof no engineer. But Ooof nut think wood an' fireworks
in the same store such a gud idea der. ''

The Board once again turned their gaze on the Chairman, his fingers tented
in silent contemplation. Once again, he returned prompt response.

'I'll consider it. '

''Really!? '' the Board nearly shouted in unison, Olliwac included.

The Chairman laughed heartily.

'No, not really! '

''Aww!!! '' Olliwac cried, his hopes of wood and fireworks dashed.

The Chairman rose from his seat and spoke once again. ''I say we go ahead
with the Nordmaar plan. And I'd say that just about covers everything
today. Meeting adjourned! ''

With a pound on the table, the secret panel leading to the Chairman's office
opened, and Ixi'kweez made his way towards it. As an afterthought, he
turned and spoke once more.

''Oh, and if one of you would be so kind as to ask Hyako'cho to cancel my
appointments for the afternoon, I'd appreciate it. I've some business that
needs my attention. '' With that, the Chairman entered his office and
closed the door behind him.

'Finally, some time to myself! '

With a sigh of relief, the Chairman stretched his arms and made his way to
his desk. Grabbing a stack of missives and correspondences from atop his
desk, he plopped himself into his corinthian leatherbound executive swivel
chair, propping his feet on his desk, and began reading at his leisure.

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Mar 26 21:48:48 2015

To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din

Subject Defending the Tower ''-HEY!!!- (A Meeting With the Chairman)'' (Chapter Three: Part Two)

Furui glanced about the executive lobby, as the elevator doors parted
before him. He was mildly impressed by Thimtax's elaborate woodwork,
radiating in every direction. Spotting the receptionist's desk ahead of
him, he briskly approached it and the elven woman manning it, who returned a
pleasant smile in greeting.

'Welcome to Ixi-Mart. How may I help you today? '

'Yes, greetings. My name is Furui Shinchu, and I have scheduled an
appointment to see the Chairman at this time. '

Hyaku'cho's smile became tinged with a bit of sadness at the mention of an

'Ohhhh. I'm very sorry, Mr. Shinchu. But I'm afraid Chairman Ixi'kweez
had to cancel All of his appointments for the afternoon. You see, he had
some extremely urgent business demanded his immediate attention. He sends
his strong regrets. '

The pleasant man frowned upon hearing the elf's words. He replied, clearly
a bit confused.

'Cancelled? But I needed to speak with the Chairman about-'

'Chairman Ixi'kweez deeply regrets and inconvenience or hardship this may
have cause to our loyal friends, customers, and vendors. He asks that you
come back this time tomorrow. Again, you have our sincerest apologies. '

Furui had wanted to be indignant about his snubbing by the Chairman. But
the wild elven woman did not deserve to bear any of that burden. She was
simply doing her job, and went through great pains to be polite about it.
For the moment, there was nothing he could do.

'Well, aright then. I thank you for your time. '

The disappointed man in simple brown robes turned on his heel, and made his
way back to the elevator. He could hear the receptionist as the doors
closed behind him.

'Take care! And have an Ixi-Mart kind of day! '

A wry grin grew on Furui's face as he and the elevator sailed downward
towards the main lobby. He mused to himself quietly.

'Very well then. Let's go see what has the Ixi'kweez so damned occupied. '

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Mar 26 23:04:20 2015

To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din

Subject Defending the Tower ''-HEY!!!- (A Meeting With the Chairman)'' (Chapter Three: Part Three)

The late afternoon sun felt good on Ol' Brassy's metallic scales, as he
glided lazily upon unseen currents. Spotting his destination ahead, he
slowed himself and began a modest descent, landing majestically atop one of
the huge, iron 'perches', mounted atop the roof of the Ixi-Mart Tower, well
over a thousand feet above Mart-Town. He took a moment to preen himself,
then slung his massive head over the side of the tower, scanning the 99th
and final floor.

The boardroom, complete with boardroom table (which he himself dragged up
there), was devoid of inhabitants. Scanning the perimeter of the floor, he
noticed that a segment of the circular floor was cordoned off by a tall,
wooden dividing wall. Ol' Brassy retracted his head and turned his massive
bulk around, hopping over to the perch on the other side of the roof. He
craned his head over the side once more.

The huge, brass wyrm easily spotted the Chairman directly beyond the window.
He appeared to be reclined in his chair, feet atop his desk, casually
reading a stack of papers. Ol' Brassy looked on in disbelief and

'Thisss isss hisss 'all-important' emergency busssinessssss? Why, he isss
just lazing around and reading! I came here to tell him that trouble hasss
come to Mart-Town, and-- wait a minute. Isss... Isss he sssleeping!? '

It was hard for the gigantic wyrm not to notice as the Chairman's head
slowly dipped down with no further movement, other than deep, steady
breathing. Ol' Brassy growled quietly.

'Thisss isss completely unacceptable! I will not ssstand for thisss! '

The monstrous dragon pressed his massive snout right up against the window
separating himself from the Chairman and bellowed irritably.

''-HEY!!! -''

Instantly, Ixi'kweez bolted straight up from his chair in abject terror,
coming back down awkwardly, causing his and his chair to turn over backwards
with an awful crash. Immediately hopping to his feet, and spotting the
giant wyrm staring back at him, its massive jaws agape, he jumped backwards,
clutching the desk behind him, paralyzed by fear.

'-This- is why you cancelled my appointment!? I come to bring you imprtant
information, and you sssnub me for.... For nap-time!? '

This was one of those rare moments, where the Chairman was at a loss for

'I.... I..... '

Ol' Brassy rolled his massive hazel eyes in disgust. Wishing to be delayed
no longer, he spoke earnestly.

'We do not have time for thisss! I'm coming back in there! Go tell your
receptionissst not to turn me away thisss time. We have important mattersss
to dissscussssss! '

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Thu Mar 26 23:49:31 2015

To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din

Subject Defending the Tower ''-HEY!!!- (A Meeting With the Chairman)'' (Chapter Three: Part Four)

-knock knock knock-

The door quietly opened inward, as Hyaku'cho, Furui in tow, crossed the
threshold into the Chairman's office. She spoke softly and succinctly.

'Mister Shinchu, sir. '

'Thank you, Hyaku'cho. Mister Shinchu. Please, have a seat. '

The elven lady tipped her hear in quiet respect and began to close the door
behind her. She halted her action, hearing the Chairman address her again.

'Wait a minute! '

Hyaku'cho turned around to regard the Ixi once again, noticing his baffled
expression. ''Yes, Mr. Chairman? ''

'Tell me. How did you open that door just now? '

'The door? '' Hyaku'cho asked, a bit confused herself it seemed. ''Well, I
just pressed on that discrete looking panel just to the right of the door,
and it opened right up. That was quite a clever system, Master Thimtax had
come up with. Why? How do you open the door? '

The Chairman blinked in disbelief at the mention of a hidden panel switch.
As far as he was aware, the only way of opening his office door, was by
pounding on a similar panel, located in front of the Chairman's seat at the
boardroom table. Thimtax had neglected to inform the Chairman that there
was a simpler, less ridiculous way of getting into his office. Ixi'kweez
mused silently to himself. What other suprises has our dear old friend left
for us here in his masterpiece?

The Chairman shook his head quietly and smiled.

'Nevermind, Hyaku'cho. That will be all. Thank you again. '

The elven receptionist nodded, shutting the office door behind her.

'So. '' the pleasant man in simple brown robes offered, a grinning coyly.
''How -do- you open the door? '

Writer: Kynthelig

Date Fri Mar 27 09:28:16 2015

Writer: Phemia

Date Fri Mar 27 10:18:40 2015

Writer: Phemia

Date Fri Mar 27 10:20:19 2015

Writer: Phemia

Date Fri Mar 27 10:22:47 2015

Writer: Phemia

Date Fri Mar 27 10:28:05 2015

Writer: Mercerion

Date Fri Mar 27 15:07:21 2015

Writer: Mercerion

Date Fri Mar 27 15:07:49 2015

Writer: Phemia

Date Sat Mar 28 10:30:52 2015

Writer: Phemia

Date Sat Mar 28 10:34:49 2015

Writer: Ashbie

Date Sun Mar 29 12:25:22 2015

Writer: Ashbie

Date Sun Mar 29 12:59:21 2015

Writer: Miirphys

Date Sun Mar 29 13:46:24 2015

Writer: Reagan

Date Sun Mar 29 18:20:11 2015

Writer: Wyltte

Date Sun Mar 29 19:04:49 2015

To Verminasia Necrucifer IMM All Religion

Subject Restless

The dim light of the altar of darkness reflected his mood, the slow
dripping of water from the fountain the only sound within the massive hall.
Wyltte knelt at the statue's feet in supplication, head lowered and staring
at the floor, his brow furrowed in contemplation. It had been a few weeks
since his lengthy stay in Doija, and the search for his biological sister
turned up just another wild goose chase.

She was really and truly gone.

He had come to love the city, the hospitality and cordial nature of the
citizens there. Though it was far different from his Barbarian roots, there
was a certain, reserved savageness in the land. As he walked the streets
for the last few weeks in Verminasia, reacquainting himself with sights and
sounds of the Dark Kingdom, he started to feel restless.

Waking from his musings, Wyltte's restlessness started to gnaw on his anger,
his hatred for always feeling like an outsider. He has wore so many hats,
donned so many uniforms, that being a Lord within Verminasia and just
tending to matters of the church was new to him. In some ways it was a
blessing, allowing him to preach the Master's teachings in peace... But in
other ways it was like being in a desert oasis in an incalculably large

There were things of the past he missed, and moreover people that once
called him a friend and confidant who have found their eternal slumber in
the beauty of the Master's Darkness. There were still a few whose faces
were recognizable, whose words did not sour his ears, but there were also
too many new to be comfortable with fully.

Wyltte just started out the main archway of the temple and down the southern
trail towards Arkane. His hands clenched into fists, his anger and
restlessness would not subside. Off to the east, he heard the faint crash
of swordblades as those from Castle Ravencrest tried to defend their castle.
The ringing of metal on metal resonated in his soul, already in conflict for
the doldrums he was in. Unsheathing his blade and saying a prayer to Lord
Necrucifer, a dark aura started to swirl around him as he made his way onto
the western edge of the battlefield.

Large dogs were chewing on the corpses of the fallen soldiers, both of the
light and dark. Flesh was being torn from their frames, their faces
distorted in last looks of pain and anguish. A few bloodied Paladins note
his entrance to the fray and rush him, blades held high and at the ready.
Not breaking stride, Wyltte lashes out quickly towards the unarmored flesh
at their necks, and a single scarlet line forms. A look of disbelief comes
over to their face as they fall to their hands and knees, their last screams
nothing but incomprehensible gurgles. With each step his resolve is
hardened, with each moment passing his purpose set.

A passing sorceress who was dazed did not see Wyltte approach. He moves by
her almost silently, placing his hand on one shoulder and uttering a few
words, violent looking sores started to appear on her face and neck. Her
screams were lost to the fury in his brain.

Fumbling in his satchel for an old key he had held onto for some time,
Wyltte steps to the gate and gains entrance to the castle, and as the
drawbridge opens a few stunned guards stare into the face of dark hatred.

Writer: Wyltte

Date Sun Mar 29 19:36:42 2015

To Verminasia Necrucifer IMM All Religion

Subject Restless

It did not take long before the unprepared guards were dispatched.
Charging before him like an unholy battering ram was an earth elemental, its
incredible wrath smashing the bodies of the guards into the walls, never to
rise again. Wyltte did not smile at each sacrifice to his Dark Lord, but
knew that each life lost was an offering to the entirety of the Pantheon.

Their lives were cut short, thus blessing Fatale. His body glowed with the
dark energy granted by Drakkara. His fury drove him on, fueled by the power
of Mencius. He laughed at those who fell in anguish, the sounds an offering
to Devion. Rotting corpses littered the floor, feeding the worms that
Dragoth uses to purify the land. Finally, each light of hte light cut short
strengthenes the darkness in the culling, a true offering to His Master,

As he approached the temple within the great castle, a holy priest of
Austinian came charging out, a bright white aura surrounding him like a
flaming torch. Wyltte sends his unholy elemental crashing into the priest,
but he easily uses his own power to send him back to the nether. It was
Wyltte and the priest locked in combat, terrified monks cowering in the
corner from fear as they each uttered powerful words of magic. Both men
were tired, and neither were giving ground. His patience growing thin, his
hatred for the man grew like the height of an incoming tidal wave. His eyes
changing to almost ebony in their appearance, Wyltte utters the most
powerful incantation he knew, invoking the full holy words of Necrucifer.
He felt power swirling within him, and immense pain as he watched the priest
in front of him simply turn into charred bits of paper.

Reeling with the effort, Wyltte drops down to his knees and tries to catch
his breath. The robes of the priest lay in a smouldering pile in front of
him. Picking them up and laying them over his left shoulder, he makes his
way slowly to the court of the King.

The King was sitting with his back nestled into the corner of his throne as
Wyltte walks through the door, a few lines of blood flowing from a small cut
in his forehead. The stress of the long standing battle weighed as heavy on
him as his enormous crown. He looked at the single priest enter, and a few
of his personal guards started to form a circle around him.

"You wage this war, King, with no end. Why do you not yield?" Wyltte asks
the king, his voice low but strong in the huge hall.

The king looks at him, an almost smug look on his face as he replies. "I
wage it because it must be waged. We cannot give ground to those who would
see the world burnt like yourself."
Wyltte throws his head back and
laughs, the sound amplified and seeming to bounce through the halls as it
grows in strength.

"Then you know nothing of Darkness, and nothing of what we work to do. We
seek to unify the world. Only those foolish enough to intervene will get
swept away."
Wyltte throws the pile of robes before him, the symbol of
Austinian warped but still visible on the fabric.

"As to your aim, Good King, you will see the world burn.. But not because
of your holy war...."
Wyltte says as his hands start to glow red with
flames. "You will see it burn because my hands have been idle too long."

The guards started to press in towards Wyltte, but a firestorm of flames
started to swirl around him, igniting those who were foolish enough to get
close. Screams of anguish from the light-wakers were lost to the torrential
downpour of flames within the hall. Soon All were engulfed, as Wyltte stood
in the midst of them incanting words of dark power.

When it was All over, All that was left uncharred was the massive crown
which fell onto the scarred stone to Wyltte's feet, and the robes which he
used to mock the King. Grabbing them both up, he headed back out the
doorway, no less restless than he was before he came.

Writer: Reagan

Date Sun Mar 29 22:37:33 2015

Writer: Cassioppia

Date Sun Mar 29 23:06:38 2015

To All Nordmaar Kyri Derigimus Zypher RP

Subject On the Hunt

Cassie dressed in her black night ops clothing making sure everything was
tucked in, especially her hair. Tied up her leather ankle high mocassins,
tucked her weapons in their spots, and headed out the door. Once outside,
she took a deep breath of fresh air, This night will go well. She thought.
She finished what she had to do and started her hike to the yinn encampment.
Down the mountain, through the forest, and up the mountain again then
finally at nightfall, she reached the encampment. Their she picked a spot
to rest until the camp got quiet.

As the camp finally settled Cassie started to walk about. She was very good
at sneaking and managed to get through the camp unnoticed. She had found
her marks, the supply tent and the weapons tent, she entered the weapons
tent and took as many new daggers as she could carry and buried everything
else she could in a spot she knew they wouldn

She watched from afar as they finally noticed the fire but it was too late.
Both tents had burned to ashes. As cassie headed home she had a huge smile
on her face and on her mind Until the next time,

Writer: Jarlebanke

Date Sun Mar 29 23:30:08 2015

Writer: Megan

Date Mon Mar 30 15:43:34 2015

Writer: Cassioppia

Date Mon Mar 30 18:45:34 2015

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Mon Mar 30 22:34:27 2015

To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din

Subject Defending the Tower ''-HEY!!!- (A Meeting With the Chairman)'' (Chapter Three: Part Five )

Choosing to gloss over the question offered by his already seated guest,
he took a deep breath and offered greetings.

'Mister Shinchu. Or, should I say, Ol' Brassy? '

The mild mannered man chuckled pleasantly at the mention of Thimtax's
moniker for him.

'Is that what he called me? Well, it's simple, to the point, and it
explains it all. Very well then. Yes. I am the one our friend Thimtax
referred to as 'Ol' Brassy'. I realize that until now, we have not been
formally introduced. '

'No, not formally, no. '', the Chairman added wryly. ''I've only ever seen
you when you were hurtling towards me at ludicrous speeds, presumably in an
attempt to give me a heart attack. '

Furui chortled coyly. ''I assure you. Only one of those times was
intentional. ''

''Which one!? '', Ixi'kweez snapped back in mild annoyance.

The man in simple brown robes shook his head, then diverted the
conversation. ''Is this really important right now? I've been trying for
the better part of the afternoon to let you know that one of the townspeople
was assaulted and robbed this morning! ''

The Chairman's annoyance quickly escalated into rage as he heard the mention
of an assault in Mart-Town. He rose from his chair, shaking with anger. He
was quickly waved back down by Furui's calming gesture.

''Relax, Mr. Chairman, I've taken care of it. Noone was hurt, that which
was stolen has been returned, and he who perpetrated this crime will no
longer enter these gates. I've seen to it. Mr. Chairman, you knew this
would happen eventually. No place can remain wholly safe from crime and
violence. ''

'No, I suppose you're right. This only serves to illustrate that I need to
spend more time in the town, seeing to it that everything is al-'

His words were abruptly cut off as Furui interjected.

'You can't do it all, Mr. Chairman. You run a corporation. You are a
ranking member among the Shalonesti. Mart-Town needs its own security
force, made up of its own people. Mart-Town needs a Sherriff to lead and
coordinate this. '

'Oh, and I suppose you feel -you- would be the perfect fit for this Sherriff
position? '

'Well, why -not- me? '' Furui quipped, smiling coyly. ''I -did- take care
of the assault today. '

''-One- criminal! You stopped -one- criminal! And I'd wager you were at
the right place at the right time! '' Ixi'kweez halted his words and
reconsidered. He really couldn't do it alone, and security of the town
could not be done half-assed. And Furui was, after all, the alterform of a
dragon, one of the most intelligent and feared creatures on All of Algoron.
Perhaps he was the perfect candidate after all.

'Alright. But you'll need more than just you. You will be responsible for
the recruitment and management of your security staff. Choose them well.
And I want regular updates and statistics. I want Ixi-curity to be of
paramount effectiveness to the people of Mart-Town. '

'I'm not naming it 'Ixi-curity'! '' Furui spat back through a visible
grimace. ''I'll... I'll find a better name for it. You leave the rest to
me. Expect to hear from me very soon. '

Writer: Ixi'kweez

Date Mon Mar 30 23:22:41 2015

To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din

Subject Defending the Tower ''(Interlude): Sharp Dressed Man'' (Chapter Three: Part Six )

'Well? What do you think? '

Furui scrutinized himself in the elongated, full-length mirror, as the
tailor quietly removed the last of the pins from his trousers and stepped
aside. He had certainly spared no expense when it came to his uniform,
woven of the finest silks, dyed to a sublime royal blue, tailored to his
every contour. It had to be just right. It needed to convey authority. It
needed to allow for maximum movement. It needed to garner attention and

His jacket was adorned by golden epaulettes on each shoulder, gold buttons
down the middle, gold cufflinks on each wrist. A gold bead ran the length
of each trouser leg, leading down to ebony black shoes adorned with gold
buckles. Across his chest, was draped an ornamental sash, reading ' S H E R
R I F F '. He grabbed his oaken staff from the holster behind his back, its
ends pristinely capped in sapphire, and firmly placed one end on the ground.
He flashed a smile to himself in the mirror.

Furui had to hand it to the tailor. He looked damn good.

'I'll take them. '

Reaching down to the floor, Furui grabbed a small sack from his satchel,
tossing it to the tailor.

'That should cover this one, and a dozen others, less All the gold finery.
I will contact you in a couple of days. Thank you for your prompt service.
No need to box it up. I'll wear it out. '

With that, the newly named Sherriff of Mart-Town turned on his brand new
heel and exited onto Avenue 'C'. The nearby townspeople turned to regard
what was apparently their new Sherriff, the sash making it nearly impossible
to think otherwise. Furui flashed a toothy smile to the crowd.

'As you were, friends! Nothing to see here! '

The Sherriff descended the stairs onto the street proper, and made his way
casually down the avenue, keeping an eye on the goings-on around him.

-''Hey! You kids stop rough housing by those carts!''-
-''Afternoon, madam!''-
-''For me? Oh, no. I insist on paying!''-

''Yes, yes. This will do quite nicely.'', the Sherriff mused to

Writer: Lachlan

Date Tue Mar 31 03:41:09 2015

Writer: Reagan

Date Tue Mar 31 15:35:31 2015

Writer: Reagan

Date Tue Mar 31 19:52:14 2015

Writer: Reagan

Date Tue Mar 31 19:52:26 2015

Writer: Jarlebanke

Date Tue Mar 31 19:53:03 2015

Writer: Zypher

Date Tue Mar 31 20:26:47 2015

Writer: Zypher

Date Tue Mar 31 20:26:55 2015

Writer: Zypher

Date Tue Mar 31 20:27:01 2015

Writer: Zypher

Date Tue Mar 31 20:27:10 2015

Writer: Zypher

Date Tue Mar 31 20:27:13 2015

Writer: Liviya

Date Tue Mar 31 22:21:15 2015

To Necrucifer All ( Imm Admin Religion )

Subject The Prophecy

'Someday, the Master will test me by commanding me to kill you. When He
does, I will not be able to hesitate, not even for a second.

She had said it thirty years ago. Before he had left her for Lindella.
Before Sange was born. Before they knew which of their gods would intervene
first in their relationship. Before they knew the trials and struggles both
of them would endure for the grave sin of being with the other.

Damerus had frowned at her. 'How do you know?'

'It is the most common test of loyalty given in the Darkness,' she had
replied. 'I've seen it dozens of times.' She pursed her lips then. 'Dark
couples tend to survive it. The god does not truly intend the partner to
die, only to test the willingness of the faithful to kill. The victim tends
to forgive, and the relationship goes on. Could you forgive it?'

Damerus had looked at her with confusion, and given an answer that was truthful
but not helpful: 'I don't know.'

But even as Liviya had asked him that question, she had known it would be
different. Her partner was of the Light. Necrucifer would not spare him. It
would take Nadrik's own intervention to preserve his life, and Liviya did
not dare approach the command she had been given with the hope that it
would not truly mean Damerus's death.

Talmont had presented her an alternative that wasn't really an alternative
at all, converting him. As if she hadn't tried for three decades to do it.
As if she hadn't nurtured every seed of Darkness she had ever seen in him,
only to have him clip the bud before it blossomed. There was no chance of
him becoming a Necruciferian. His hatred of her Master was personal and deep.
She had tried to nudge him toward Mencius instead, but he did not recognize
his own Evil nature, that the things he wished upon his enemies were not
justice, but vengeance.

As far as Liviya was concerned, Damerus was a man who was Good entirely
because he was too stubborn to realize he was Evil. Nadrik didn't know it
either, or didn't care. Now that stubbornness would cost him his life, and
it would be the mother of seven of his children who delivered the blow.

She had been steeling herself for the day that was coming for three decades
now. She knew she could do it. She knew she wouldn't hesitate. But as she laid
in his arms for what could be the last time, she watched him sleep in the
peaceful comfort and familiarity of her own embrace.

She couldn't speak it aloud. She couldn't take the risk. But she thought it
loudly at him: 'I hope you remember, my love. I hope you know I warned you.'

Writer: Jarlebanke

Date Wed Apr 1 01:21:32 2015

Writer: Ayzrael

Date Wed Apr 1 03:34:09 2015

To Abaddon ( All )

Subject An Idle Walk (I)

The wind did not whisper this afternoon, indeed, the entire forest was
eerily silent, as if time had suddenly come to a stop. There was no song of
the bird to greet the weary traveler, no idle chatter of squirrel to
announce his prescence. Of course, it did not help that this particular
traveler knew how to step without so much as a sound - but that was not it.
No, he thought to himself as he continued through the leafy green wilderness
- this was something more.

Lifting his cerulean eyes skywards, the man thought back on the events that
brought him here. They came easily now - though that made the fact of their
bearing no less easier. All he could do now was chuckle at his own idiocy -
the strappings of youth, the failings of bad habits, he could claim any
excuse, but none was sufficient, not for him. So lost in thought was the
man that he did not hear the snapping of branches and the rustle of leaves
that announced the prescence of another - indeed it was not until the woman
was nearly upon him, seemingly lost in her own thoughts that he snapped out
of his own as the pair nearly collided.


The loudness of the shriek caused the man to wince as it shattered the
otherwise silence of the forest. He watched as the hooded woman leapt back,
her hands fumbling within the folds of an evergreen cloak which seemed far
too large for her person. He regarded her with amusement, not moving, his
head cocked to the left as he beheld her awkward movements. "I shall wait
here while you search for whatever it is you seek." He spoke in an amused

His voice caused her to look up at him, her hazel eyes sparkling in the
sunlight that managed to penetrate the leaves of the trees high above.
"Ss... Sttay back!" She declared in a tiny voice that caused the man to
smile wider. Her fumbling fingers had finaly sought what she desired, and
into the glistening light the blade of a small hunting knife came into view.
Upon seeing this, the man took a step back, raising his hands innocently.
"Who would have thought a simple walk through the forests would result in an
untimely death at the hands of a rabbit sticker..."

The amusement in his voice was lost upon the girl who took a defiant step
forward, the hilt of the blade clenched in both shaking hands. "I don't
have anything of value, I merely seek to be on my way!" The woman said, her
voice quivering almost as much as the blade held between her digits, the
blood rushing to her ivory cheeks as she beheld the stranger before her.

"Well now, that makes two of us."

Writer: Reagan

Date Wed Apr 1 09:07:20 2015

Writer: Saelaira

Date Wed Apr 1 20:35:43 2015

Writer: Rellinath

Date Thu Apr 2 01:18:51 2015

To All althainia arkane imm rp

Subject Catharsis

He crouched, blades bared and still bloody, staring out from his hiding
place at the yeti that ambled through the forest. He knew these foes were
pushing the very limits of his abilities, but whether it was the rage
burning in his heart or the alcohol still burning through his veins, he
neither knew nor cared.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was so upset about it. It wasn't like
anything bad had truly come of it. In the end, things worked out, and the
only real harm done was that he'd been left to play the part of the fool,
standing at attention like some motionless drone, waiting for official
sanction before acting.

"Now you're really pissing me off! "

The words, and the glare that followed them, still burned brightly in his
mind's eye. Perhaps that was what bothered him the most... Not the
inaction, not the feeling of embarassment he'd felt enduring the stares of
the gathered military men, but the feeling of hostility he'd gotten from
that simple phrase, that one look. And yet, as if to counter it, his
justification came back along, defending him from those feelings.

"... It's a little girl, Sir. "

He was inwardly glad that his action... Or rather, inaction in the face of
necessity... Hadn't caused any lasting harm. And, he supposed, he couldn't
be truly blamed for his actions. After all, he was only a guard, a
rank-and-file soldier. It wasn't his place to act without orders. Yet he
cursed himself All the same, both for his lack of conviction and for his
naivete. Perhaps he'd made a mistake.

"Now you're really pissing me off! "

The words burned through his mind again. With a snarl, he gripped his
blades tightly, preparing to spring his trap upon his unsuspecting foe. He
felt the subtle flickerings of the protective magics surrounding him. He
knew that those flickerings foretold the end of the spell, and that he
didn't have the strength within him to replenish them. He knew that without
them, this battle would be grueling, perhaps even truly dangerous.

He grinned, in spite of himself. Good. Maybe he'd find an answer in pain
that he didn't find in conversation or at the bottom of an empty glass.
Maybe the pain would bring him some catharsis.

He sprung from hiding, his foe howling in alarm at the sudden assault before
it turned, the sheer mass of the beast, the wickedly sharp teeth enough to
cower many other men, some stronger than him.

His foe was faster to react than he'd anticipated. The advantage of
surprise was lost.

Perhaps this battle would bring him catharsis in death.

He wasn't sure he cared.

Writer: Nierwyld

Date Thu Apr 2 01:40:19 2015

To All Conclave White_Robes Imm RP Atlantos

Subject Tales of the Scurvy Buzzard : Finding What's Lost

He flitted from tree to tree, the humidity and heat soaking into his
clothes and bones. A welcoming feeling. He missed Tropica, even if he did
get kicked out of his Tree. Tropica was home and he wanted it back. Magic
could only take him so far, though. It was time to find his ship.

Easier said than done, though. He'd spent the past few months just looking
for a scent. Flitting between the Cove and Haven. Who would have thought
that it was from Arkane, of All places, that he'd run into an old sailing


Nierwyld flitted in through the open doors of the Fellowship. Stunk like
stale beer and stagnant urine. Must have been a crowd last night. His
wings beat the air quickly, his eyes scanning around, looking for the old

A woman in the corner blew her nose twice then spit into her cup. There it

A sigh and Nierwyld flit over to it, landing on the table, 'I hope you don't
expect me to drink that now.. And who the hell came up with these signs?!

The lady guffawed. 'Ugly heffer, ' Nierwyld thought. Then he noticed the
beard. It wasn't a true woman. 'Still.. Ugly heffer' he mused as he sat
down on the table top.

"Alright you. Talk. What's the information you got for me? "

Slowly, the man(woman) leaned forward. 'Jus' ye wait, buzzard... Ye be
payin' me more fer it, I be reckonin'

Grumbling Nierwyld stood up and uttered a few words under his breath, at
once the woman(man) looked dazed and unfocused. "I learned a few things, ye
snot bubble on a trolls arse. Ye'll give me what I want to know, don't
worry about it

The man(woman) nodded and uttered a single word, 'Gindlon'

Writer: Jarlebanke

Date Thu Apr 2 11:07:19 2015

Writer: Kynthelig

Date Thu Apr 2 14:58:17 2015

Writer: Kynthelig

Date Thu Apr 2 15:09:58 2015

Writer: Reagan

Date Thu Apr 2 17:23:15 2015

Writer: Devlin

Date Fri Apr 3 01:12:47 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Fri Apr 3 11:49:04 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Fri Apr 3 11:50:40 2015

Writer: Kynthelig

Date Fri Apr 3 12:10:03 2015

Writer: Trylum

Date Fri Apr 3 20:17:09 2015

Writer: Niabi

Date Sat Apr 4 09:12:01 2015

Writer: Takoda
Date Sat Apr 4 10:47:07 2015

Writer: Reagan
Date Sat Apr 4 11:46:50 2015

Writer: Kynthelig
Date Sat Apr 4 12:22:02 2015

Writer: Laleina
Date Sat Apr 4 20:46:22 2015

To All Verminasia Imm RP

Subject Returning Home

Laleina had spent to much time mourning the loss of her beloved husband,
much to much time. She had walked the desert, sailed on a ship to Arkania,
walked the woods for a bit, and finally found her way back home and to a
very familiar voice. Wyltte was one of her long lost friends, or she
thought, she was so happy to hear he was home and even happier that he was
the one who called her home. They caught up on old times and bid each other
a goodnight before taking their rest.

She awoke the next morn to the most beautiful thunderstorm she had ever
seen, lightning shooting threw the sky with a vengeance, and the rain
falling so hard it made made her smile widely. How she loved beautifully
gloomy days like this. She slowly walked away from the window, not wanting
to, and started getting dressed for the day. Her gown of choice that day
was a deep blue, perfect color for the perfect day, the neckline in black
lace, her sleeves down to her wrists, and a pair of deep blue heels.

Laleina went to the door, grabbed her parasol, and went out the door to
start the new day. As she walked the streets of Verminasia she smiled, the
storm had her in a great mood and being back was as if she had never left.
All the people she had known were basically gone, only a few that she
remembered were still about but yet not often. Ulys, Wyltte, Marcaus,
Liviya, and Anezka were just a few.

She made her way from the Stronghold, through the kingdom, and to Drakkara's
Temple with her war wolf Damian at her side, as he has always been, said her
morning prayers, and sat there thanking Drakkara for calling her home.

Writer: Zola
Date Sun Apr 5 15:33:54 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Dfedor Fatale

Subject X Laying the Foundation (1of4) X

The Blessed Blue Rose Orphanage.

Occupying a stretch of land in the southernmost region of Althainia, it
wasn't particularly well known, but it was a reasonably pleasant place. One
could see the young children playing in the yards
now, hoping to get in some
time in the sun before the clouds overhead became a storm, as they seemed
intent on doing.

None of them, nor their caretakers, paid any attention to Zola.

He was not dressed in his customary robes and hood, nor the beaked mask of a
plague doctor that felt more and more like his true face than his actual
face. Instead, he might have been
anyone, so plain and non-descript he
looked. Perhaps a bit pale and haggard, his hair a rat's nest and with many
bags under his eyes from sleepless nights, but those same eyes glowed with
an inner
fire as he watched the orphans play. None would recognize him as
the Deathscythe. Hell, half of his own colleagues were still convinced he
was a woman behind the mask. And some of his enemies weren't even sure he
was human.

Visitors were uncommon at the Orphanage but not unheard of. None paid him
the slightest bit of attention as they went about their daily lives. But
Zola had eyes only for the children, ignoring their
guardians as they ran to
and fro. So lost, so blind, so sickeningly innocent. They pranced about in
the grass and played with their toys, unable to grasp the reality just
beneath the surface. The truth
of the world that the Lord of Murder had
shown Zola when he'd been little older than they were now.

He reached behind the nearby oak tree and plucked his scythe from it's
resting place against the bark, conjuring a hellfire to run across the
blade. It was time to get started.

Writer: Zola

Date Sun Apr 5 15:35:06 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Dfedor Fatale

Subject X Laying the Foundation (2of4) X

Blood splattered along the walls as another caretaker was slain, their
body cleaved in half by his flaming scythe. That made for at least eleven
of them, almost the entire staff.

And yet, Zola spared the children. Though many were splattered by blood, he
did not lay a finger upon them. Some were shrieking like banshees at the
carnage, others were deathly silent, unable
or unwilling to process the
scene in front of them. A few tried to flee, he let them.

Finally, there was but one adult left alive, and as Zola watched in some
amusement, the plump, elderly matron of the orphanage tried to interpose
herself between him and a trio of young girls, intent
on protecting them.
How sickeningly noble.

It took virtually no effort to subdue her, grabbing a fistful of her grayed
hair and yanking her to his side, twisting her head thus and holding his
scythe out, the sharp edged pressed to her
neck. The eldery matron stilled
instantly, recognizing the unspoken threat.

Zola turned his gaze to the children. Orphans, like he'd once been.
Nameless, homeless, directionless. What might become of them in the years
and decades to come, especially now
that their home was gone and their
caretakers All dead? Would they themselves perish on the streets... Find
new homes with loving families... Or would some of them embrace the truth,
as he had?

He decided to leave them with a little wisdom.

"Mark this day well, children, " he spoke soothingly. "This day did death
come into your lives. But it does not come for you just yet. This is no
mercy... This is a challenge. Rise up, and claim your own futures. Before
the day when the reaper comes for you again.

His scythe cut a slow but menacing streak through the air, passing just over
their heads, as Zola dragged the sole loving adult towards the doors,
leaving the blood and carnage behind. The children
might remember his face,
but they would not know who he was. But they would know what he was.

A messenger.

Writer: Zola

Date Sun Apr 5 15:36:29 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Dfedor Fatale

Subject X Laying the Foundation (3of4) X

He dragged her for hours, into the trackless forest, through the
sickening swamps, over the foggy hills. Struggle though the matron did,
Zola's grip was like folded steel, impossible
to break. Finally, however,
their trip seemed to be at an end. He threw her roughly to the ground.

This hillside was barren, though in the distance they could see Abaddon
where the sun was setting, painting the sky an ominous shade of red as
shadows grew ever longer. The only marker was a
tall, towering structure of
polished obsidian. An obelisk. And behind it...

... Was an open grave.

"No! " screamed the matron, realizing her plight. She turned to flee, but
he grabbed her almost as an afterthought, tightening his grip on her
shoulder. Had she been in her prime, she
might have held a slim chance of
escape, but years of taking care of so many unappreciated children had left
her withered and weak. She could do naught but pound helplessly at his arm,
to be free. Suddenly, she abruptly stopped. The light must have
fallen on his features just so, because she seemed to suddenly recognize

"I remember you... " she whispered, scarcely daring to believe it. "You
were that boy... The one who killed another for a loaf of bread! You could
have shared, there was more than enough to go around!

Not true, he thought, turning to glare at her. There was only ever enough
for some, the weak went hungry, the strong fed on what they could. She,
like so many others, had turned a blind eye to it all, but
he'd killed that
boy and that stale bread had been the tastiest thing he'd ever eaten, before
or since.

"You don't understand, " he rasped, tightening his grip until the matron was
positive Zola was going to snap a bone. "You never understood. I learned
the truth. The truth of reality. Of existence itself. And I am going to
ensure everyone sees it. Starting with you, and then on to the children. "

Writer: Zola

Date Sun Apr 5 15:40:51 2015

To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Dfedor Fatale

Subject X Laying the Foundation (4of4) X

Zola pulled the matron along, dragging her over to the grave. She
struggled and squirmed in Zola's grasp but could do nothing to fight him as
he shoved her backwards into the gaping maw in the
earth. She fell
headfirst into the open coffin, nearly breaking her neck as she landed hard.
But no... That would be far too quick.

"No! No please! You can't do t-! " she screamed as he sealed the coffin
shut, ignoring her pleas for mercy. Her muffled pleas continued as she
banged on the coffin from the inside, trying
to get it out. He barely
reacted to the noise, ignoring it as he would the wind on his bare face, and
simply picked up his shovel and a moundful of dirt, and tossed it into the
grave. And then another, and then still more.

In virtually no time the grave was filled. Zola swung his shovel like a
sword, flicking the grimy dirt from it, and sheathed it at his side, hooking
the tool at his belt.

"Consider this only the beginning, Lord of Murder, " he intoned, beginning a
prayer before the filled grave. "This place shall become a sanctuary to
your assassins and your killers. I lay now the foundation not only with
stones, but with true murderous intent.

He cast his gaze over the grave, hatred swelling in his heart. "With the
pain, the fear, the suffering of this woman. I ask you to condemn her soul
to an eternity of misery.

Dark stormclouds began to gather overhead, and the air was thick with the
smell of ozone as thunder boomed in the distance. "This will be the first
of many! Every city will one day
hold such hallowed grounds. The entire
world will know your divine truth, Fatale!

The name of his deity seemed to strike a chord, for a bolt of lightning
crackled overhead.

"Fatale be praised! " Zola shouted to the heavens above, and lightning
answered again, a boom of thunder following as the storm clouds raged above

Writer: Reagan

Date Sun Apr 5 21:53:26 2015

Writer: Jarlebanke

Date Mon Apr 6 00:05:55 2015

Writer: Kynthelig

Date Mon Apr 6 07:28:40 2015

Writer: Kynthelig

Date Tue Apr 7 01:36:34 2015

Writer: Aiera

Date Tue Apr 7 12:32:41 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Apr 7 12:45:38 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Apr 7 12:48:43 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Apr 7 13:08:47 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Apr 7 13:08:51 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Apr 7 13:10:40 2015

Writer: Cieran

Date Tue Apr 7 13:10:48 2015

Writer: Arravis

Date Tue Apr 7 19:58:29 2015

To All Mercerion Althainia ( Imm Scorn RP )

Subject Snake Eyes

It didnt count as stealing if he donated All the winnings, right? The
world had changed around him and Arravis found that his place in the world
was in the air. Certainly he was no longer the man he once was. He didnt
command Althainias navy. He didnt hold the love of those he once held dear.
And, must unsettling of all, he was comfortable with All of that. This was
a clean slate, set before him to forge the next chapter in his legacy.
Would he leave Althainia? Enter the clans and gamble his life away? He had
always been quick to take risks. Right now, he was entertaining himself
with cheap thrills and small risks in the back alleys of Arkane.

A grizzled ogre interrupts Arravis thoughts, snatching his collar in his
fist and lifting Arravis off the ground. Let me see those dice. Arravis
could feel the ogres hot breath on his face as he offers the ogre an
innocent smile. Focusing on the weight of the dice in his hand, he reached
out with his mind and sent them to his bag, replacing them with a different

Of course, is there a problem? Arravis offers the half-ogre the dice,
frowning in irritation as they are quickly snatched from his hand and he is
tossed to the ground. The ogre inspects the dice closely, picking them up
and dropping them several times before grunting in irritation and throwing
the dice at Arravis with far more vigor than appropriate. Arravis easily
snatches the incoming dice, offering a polite nod. Care to play again?
Come on, double or nothing!

Arravis grins slightly, switching the dice again as the ogre nods in
agreement. He rolls the familiar weight in his hands as his future winnings
are places on the ground in front of him. As Arravis begins to toss the
dice, they briefly disappear and are quickly replaced. His eyes widen as
the dice leave his hand, each landing solidly with a single pip staring back
at him. A rough laugh errupts from his opponent.

Rough bit of luck. A familiar voice says from behind Arravis, mild
amusement obvious. Arravis unhooks a sack of gold from his pouch and tosses
it wordlessly in front of him, turning to face the voice. Mercerion stands
with his hands crossed in front of him, offering Arravis a disapproving
stare. Arravis slides past Mercerion, making his way out of the alley and
waiting until they were out of earshot of the ogre.

Arravis shoots Mercerion an irritated glare. Snake eyes? Really? I bet
you thought that was sooo clever, didn' you?

Mercerion smirks in satisfaction. I rather thought so. Is this really what
you intend to do with your life? You really should-

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it, I- Arravis sighs. Look, if I promise to go,
will you drop it and let me be for now?


Yeah.... I figured.

Writer: Skylla

Date Tue Apr 7 22:10:06 2015

Writer: Vaedryn

Date Wed Apr 8 23:44:47 2015

Writer: Liviya

Date Wed Apr 8 23:48:36 2015

To Arkane Verminasia Damerus Necrucifer All ( Imm Religion )

Subject The Girl with the Flowery Hair

The numbness and apathy lingered with Liviya for hours.

There was no elation, no pride in the Cardinal's robes she now
wore. A thing she had wanted so badly, and then had given up on,
was now hers, and there wasn't an ounce of her that cared.

She'd been nearly casual with Talmont, and glib with Arthais as
he had led her down to the cells. The same kind of facade that
every person wore when death happened inside. She summoned
elementals for company. Whispered on the wind to friends and
enemies. Hunted and ate rats for sport. She passed the time.

It was when she decided to read by the pale light of her black
flame candle that the levy broke. There, amid tenets and texts,
was the text of the song he had written for her All those years
ago. She took out the parchment and read the words.

At first, they too meant nothing, her lips moving without sound as
her eyes passed across the words.

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

Then, she began to whisper them.

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

She closed her eyes for a moment. There it was, that endless optimism
that somehow coexisted with a deeply cynical and distrusting nature.
Her voice gained volume as she read on.

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

And there it was. The crack in her shell. She began to sing in a soft
and broken voice, following the melody of the song she knew so well,
that he had sung to her as a tribute, and as a lullaby, and even mixed
in with a song of healing as she had lain broken in his arms.

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

Her voice wavered, and the first tear spilled down her cheek.

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

Trust. From the beginning, he had wanted to share it with her. At the
end, he didn't and never had.

'But the walls and the moat do castle her heart; to swim and to scale,
that love might prevail?'

And she sank to the floor in her cell in the Arkanian prison, tears hot
and salty as they ran onto her lips. She would sing the song many more
times through the night, each time tearing into her, filling her with a
pain she had no word for. Promising a future that no longer existed for
a title she didn't give a damn about.

'These things, I do not know.'

Writer: Ellminaidra

Date Thu Apr 9 04:26:32 2015

Writer: Cassioppia

Date Thu Apr 9 14:03:08 2015

Writer: Aynira

Date Thu Apr 9 15:50:21 2015

Writer: Aynira

Date Thu Apr 9 15:52:00 2015

Writer: Wyltte

Date Thu Apr 9 17:39:47 2015

To All Necrucifer IMM Religion

Subject The Cruel Passage of Time

Owl song echoed through them misty Blackwoods, only to be silenced by the
gentle crackling from the fire at Wyltte's campsight. He retreated to the
Blackwoods a few evenings ago, mentally exhausted from spending several
evenings pouring through documents to complete his land surveys of the
kingdom. Here is where he chose to recharge, connect to the land and enjoy
the blissful absence of conversation.

He had been feeling more himself in Verminasia as of late, striking up
conversations with friends he has known longer than he cares to admit. They
spoke of his wild barbarian days, his arrival to Verminasia and the work he
did with the Deathwatch. He spoke of being thrown into the temple wall by
the messenger of Mencius when he decided to seek Necrucifer's faith, the
stones cracking from the force of his body slamming into it. It seemed so
far away now.

A gentle breeze rustles through the leaves above Wyltte's head, and the
howling of wolves can be heard in the distance. He throws a few small
branches into the fire, the tiny ashes floating up into the bright evening
sky. Only the white moon could be seen, but it shone with intensity over
the land, sending shimmers of moonlight off in thousands of directions as it
hits the surface of the slow running river.

Wyltte strips off his tunic and pants and walks down the bank of the river
to stare at himself in the water. Looking back at him was a man of middle
age, the wear on his face starting to peek through the tough exterior he
spent the entirety of his life cultivating. He was still fit, and
thankfully avoided "Priest Gut", as he liked to call it. Too many of the
cloth get lazy from pouring over documents and forgetting to integrate
themselves into nature.

He was still strong, but the fine mass of knotted muscle he once had did not
ripple as it used to with his every movement. His goatee had grown out to
be less refined, and many more gray hairs can be seen mixed into the
chestnut follicles. Wyltte wades into the water, the chilly rush of water
over his body raising the hairs on his arm.

Cupping his hands and filling them with the cool liquid, he dashes handsful
over his face and hair, looking down at the man staring up at him from the
rippling waters. He traces one finger over the scar on the eye that was
restored to him by the Master's servant, Lazerus Talmont. Looking at
himself, there was no denying it. He was starting to age, and it was
finally showing.

Finishing his path, Wyltte saunters up the bank to retrieve his clothes,
warming by the fire before placing them back on. His mind started to drift
to his own mortality.

Time passes different in Algoron. Some never seem to age, some age quickly.
The fact remains though, he is of human blood. There was nothing special
about him that would extend his life. There is nothing to stem the tide of
his death in his future. He already speaks of the many gone to his elven
friends, and elven family members of the Kayen line. They will long outlive
him, and he will fade into obscurity as many have done before him.

Placing on his tunic and trousers, Wyltte sits down on a log and stares deep
into the flames, placing a few more smaller logs to keep the hungry flame

He had never married, never build his own residence, never produced children
to keep the Kayen line going. He had never found that right combination
that brought him contentment in a relationship, and in not doing so buried
himself in his work. Even then, he was aging. Was it too late? Most
likely. He was never a fool, nor would rush into anything. Many have
tried, but there was always something missing. Something he couldn't put a
finger on. Many wanted him just for his name, to increase their own social
status. He was not going to be some trophy, nor would he sire a plethora of
children just to ensure his name lives on.

He was ultimately going to die, and there was nothing anyone could do about

Writer: Laleina

Date Thu Apr 9 20:05:52 2015

To All Imm RP

Subject A Life Long Lost

By now she was sure they would have. Children? A possibility. But at
this point, that was All mute. She looked down at the water off the
Drakkara Bridge as she sighed sadly. She had nothing to show for All her
years of life, no home, no children, no savings, nothing. She felt like a
total failure. Damian looked up at her and whined, he knew she was upset
and tried to get her attention.

She looked down at her faithful companion, the only lifelong friend she had
left and scratched him behind the ears. She snapped her fingers and he knew
she was on the move. She walked towards the docks just wanting to get away
for a while, her mind still wondering if she would ever find someone to
share her life with or would she spend the rest of her life with her wolf
companion yet feeling alone.

She walked through the woods with her wolf by her side trying not to think,
not to remember, not to feel. She could not shake the intense feeling of
loss and heaviness in her heart. She had prayed so hard for his return but
it was to no avail, he was gone from this life.

She reached Arkane Town Center and headed west towards the docks, as she
came to the docks she found a nice and quiet place to sit as she watched the
ships come and go, after a while tears welled in her eyes. Damian
approached her and set his head in her lap as she burst into tears
remembering how Keal'shar had left her never to return....

Writer: Reagan
Date Thu Apr 9 22:12:45 2015

Writer: Caecius
Date Fri Apr 10 17:14:03 2015

Writer: Aliera
Date Fri Apr 10 22:32:44 2015

Writer: Aliera
Date Fri Apr 10 22:37:56 2015

Writer: Valdarion
Date Fri Apr 10 22:55:00 2015

Writer: Valdarion
Date Fri Apr 10 23:03:34 2015

Writer: Valdarion
Date Fri Apr 10 23:10:56 2015

Writer: Jainie
Date Sat Apr 11 00:40:17 2015

Writer: Jainie
Date Sat Apr 11 01:59:31 2015

Writer: Kynthelig
Date Sat Apr 11 02:04:27 2015

Writer: Kynthelig
Date Sat Apr 11 02:04:53 2015

Writer: Jainie
Date Sat Apr 11 02:06:41 2015

Writer: Reagan
Date Sat Apr 11 18:26:28 2015

Writer: Gabhran
Date Sat Apr 11 20:15:10 2015

Writer: Jainie
Date Mon Apr 13 13:03:26 2015

Writer: Reagan
Date Mon Apr 13 13:27:06 2015

Writer: Megan
Date Mon Apr 13 13:54:38 2015

Writer: Reagan
Date Mon Apr 13 14:35:34 2015

Writer: Gabhran
Date Mon Apr 13 15:05:31 2015

Writer: Aliera
Date Mon Apr 13 15:48:59 2015

To Althainia Arkane All Imm Nadrik Rp Mercerion Liviya

Subject Justice for the Slain part 1

The Empress had slept long into the afternoon, only falling asleep and
then fitfully as the dawn began to brighten the world outside her chambers.
There was a stack of missives waiting by the door, one of the servants
already having come in and left them by the door for her to peruse upon
waking. Taking a seat in one of the chairs in her sitting room, Aliera sat
down and read the first, the markings of messengers from Arkane upon it, as
well as the seal of the Fel family, it could only be from one person. And,
reading over the lines, she was glad she was already sitting down.

The passing of Lord Damerus Firebeard of Arkane..

No, it was not possible. She had just seen him a few days ago, he was alive
and strong. Not well, and certainly not sound but he was alive, and
recovering. The wound had been healed she had even seen the mark herself.
Reading over the missive again, Aliera spoke to her Kingdom and closed
herself off from the world to process what she was reading.

Her denial quickly resolved to a burning anger that sent the few servants
left in her sitting room scurrying out the door to avoid being a target of
misplaced wrath as she stood, pacing the room. How dare she?! Alieras
irritation was palpable, the venom of anger in her words as she continued to
voice her frustration to both the Gods and her furniture. ... One who
follows the heart finds it will bleed. So too may a broken heart yield
bodily death...
The words on the parchment stood in a mockery of the man
lost. Spoken like a true Cardinal of Necrucifer... Quoting creeds of
Darkness while announcing the death of a servant of Goodness and Light.
low growl was issued from the Priestess as she continued to pace, the child
in her belly kicking in response to her stress and causing her to pause for
just a fraction of a moment. Glancing down she brought a hand to her
stomach, reassuring the child as she forced herself to calm slightly.

I should have asked him to Althainia when I last saw him... Gotten him to
leave that place. He never would have come though just I could not leave
Aliera sighed softly as she sat down in her chair again,
setting the missive aside finally and picking up the next, a summons for the
Church of Nadrik. Glancing over it she nodded resolutely, there was much to
speak about indeed... Murder had been done to one of their own, and justice
needed to be had.

Writer: Feronious

Date Mon Apr 13 17:43:03 2015

Writer: Krinthos

Date Mon Apr 13 22:20:27 2015

Writer: Aliera
Date Tue Apr 14 00:20:02 2015

Writer: Aliera
Date Tue Apr 14 00:24:36 2015

Writer: Rellinath
Date Tue Apr 14 07:58:20 2015

To All althainia ulrog imm RP

Subject Terror in the night, pt. 1

As amusing as this little gathering is, this one did not come for them...

He stood, still and calm, eyes tightly sealed amidst the stench and the
panic, All senses turned outward. Without his eyes to trick him, he could
focus on his other senses, senses that perhaps the creature could not evade,
could not fool. He could clearly smell the faint odor of peaches from the
Handmaiden, could hear the swish of cloth from the robes of some mage who
had arrived to assist them, the rattle of steel as weapons were drawn. He
could taste the staleness of the air, the bitter hint of sweat in it from
the collected Althainians. The eyes could be fooled, so easily...
Sometimes it was best not to rely on them at all.

Indeed, not for the Empress either...

It had moved, and he turned his head slightly to the side, ears tracking the
source of the whispered voice. It was a difficult task, among the other
ruckus in the room: the shouts, the clatter of weaponry, the rasp of steel
against leather, the nervous intakes of breath. But yet, he was able to
follow it, to lead it, to predict its movements. He had almost found it...
A little more, and perhaps...

They are irrelevant. Sacks of meat to be pushed aside.

THERE. He struck, eyes firmly sealed, at the whispered voice. He felt his
blade bite into something, giving some resistance before the tip plunged
home. He smiled in grim satisfaction as the blade bit deeply, the lessening
resistance to the thrust indicating that the victim had been run through.

And then he heard the scream. The cries of horror from the others.

His eyes snapped open. He stood before the Empress, his blade plunged
through her belly. All around him, his compatriots, his fellow Althainians
stood, their expressions revealing horror, revulsion, or sheer outrage.
Blades once seeking the monster that tormented them were now trained on him
with killing intent. Behind him, a gloating voice snickered in his ear,
thanking him for making it oh so easy, making the hair on the back of his
neck stand up on end. Panic overtook him. He turned to flee, and stopped,
staring in horror at the fiend before him. It lunged at him, wicked fangs
glinting in the dim light.


Writer: Rellinath

Date Tue Apr 14 08:07:33 2015

To All althainia ulrog imm RP

Subject Terror in the night, pt. 2

He gasped in horror, sitting bolt upright in bed, a cold sweat drenching
his bedclothing, making it stick to him uncomfortably. A hand went
instinctively for his waist, for the comfortable feeling of a swordhilt, but
found nothing but sweat-dampened sheets. He sat there, breathing ragged and
shallow from terror, trying to force his traitorous body to calm, realizing
the truth of the nightmare. But it was a nightmare that could have been all
too real, had he followed through on his intended course in Dolund'ir two
nights prior.

He trusted his own instincts enough to strike blindly at a target. Indeed,
a part of his training had revolved around honing that ability, to aim
strikes at a target unseen, to predict the angles of attack that an enemy
would use to strike at him so that he could defend against blades his eyes
could not see. But, as he had stood there, eyes sealed, ears hunting for
any trace of the demon, another part of his mind had taken over, a part that
had become concerned with the well-being of others, of those in the room
around him. Of his friends, his Empress. There were too many people in the
room for him to be certain of a blind strike, and there was the haunting
possibility that the fiend was not where the whispered voices made him
appear to be. The eyes could be tricked, but then again, so could the ears.
Indeed, if the fiend was smart enoug to realize what he was about, it could
have played on that and made his nightmare a reality.

In the end, he had sheathed his blades, realizing full well his impotence in
that situation. In the gloom, the shadow, this foe was beyond him, perhaps
even beyond All of them combined. But the fiend was confident. It was
gloating in its victory. It was prideful. It was vain.

And it would eventually make a mistake. There would come a time that it
would strike again, but not from the gloom and the shadow, but from a locale
more poorly suited to its nature.

And Rellinath would be there, blades bared and hungry, his allies at his
side, to strike the monster down once and for all, to end the threat to the
Empire for good.

He fell back to his bed, but sleep would not find him again this night, as
it had evaded him the night before, and would continue to evade him for the
next week. He crawled out of his bed, eyes drowsy and muscles haggard from
exhaustion. But night was falling... The demon's time. And someone had to
patrol the city to ensure it didn't seek more sport among the citizens of
the Empire.

He pulled on his boots and slipped quietly through the door.

Writer: Gabhran
Date Tue Apr 14 18:02:27 2015

Writer: Liviya
Date Tue Apr 14 18:51:42 2015

To Arkane Verminasia Shadow Nadir Lindella Darela Lirexa Lowenir Arimathea Alparslan Traice Ozleust All ( Imm Religion Necrucifer )

Subject The Mother of Thousands

Liviya had never felt pain in her life like she felt now.

Broken in her bed, bruises covering her body and a gash in her head that still
wept the occasional trickle of blood onto her pillow, there was nothing in her
head but the agony in her body. She didn't know yet how many bones were broken.
She didn't know yet if she would be able to walk again, or if the wounds would
make her feel to be the old woman she was once they settled in.

There would be a time of struggle, once her head cleared. So much of the theology
she had taught based on her personal experience was now, seemingly, negated. It
would take a while to unknot it all. Fortunately, she had a whole life ahead of
her to work it All out.

Talmont expected her to die, which was precisely the reason she wouldn't do it.

She didn't have the strength to heal her own wounds proactively. Instead, she laid
in her bed, tended to by constant visitors, who also could not heal her, but gave
her food and drink and, most importantly, reason to live.

All the world seemed to think it had the right to an opinion on the number of
children she had, or at the very least on their parentage. Now, as she fought for
her life, she was grateful for each of them as they tended to her. Lowenir, with
his standoffish, utilitarian concern, making brief visits to bring food and drink.
Arimathea, with her teary clinging to her mother's side. Alparslan, with his
managerial dutifulness, seeing the other visitors in and out. Lirexa, a determined
child who tended dutifully to her mother with bowls of broth, unhindered by her
unseeing eyes. The others, showing their care- and their devotion- in their own

As much as it seemed Necrucifer- or at least, His Avatar- had tried to beat it
out of her, it became apparent to Liviya as she laid in the bed that there was
immense power to be had in love. As her children and others- family, friends,
acquaintances- came to her bedside, she pondered the tendrils of interwoven
Darkness and Light that bound her to each one. There was love in them. Loyalty.
Compassion. Not a one came, outwardly at least, to gloat.

The pain took away her efforts to think on this. She could acknowledge it at only
the most shallow level as her mind fought for consciousness. There were so many
lessons to be had.

Yet right now, there was only one: to hell with everyone who condemned her choice
to be mother to many. Their devotion to her was more valuable than anything else
she possessed in the world.

Writer: Perrinn
Date Thu Apr 16 00:46:42 2015

Writer: Krinthos
Date Thu Apr 16 10:28:46 2015

Writer: Valdarion
Date Thu Apr 16 13:15:02 2015

Writer: Valdarion
Date Thu Apr 16 13:15:09 2015

Writer: Devlin
Date Thu Apr 16 13:43:52 2015

Writer: Shalrienne
Date Thu Apr 16 14:13:35 2015

Writer: Shalrienne
Date Thu Apr 16 14:27:40 2015

Writer: Gabhran
Date Thu Apr 16 14:57:19 2015

Writer: Reagan
Date Thu Apr 16 15:20:55 2015

Writer: Shalrienne
Date Thu Apr 16 18:36:33 2015

Writer: Shalrienne
Date Thu Apr 16 18:43:45 2015

Writer: Shalrienne
Date Fri Apr 17 12:51:36 2015

Writer: Rikam
Date Fri Apr 17 15:10:00 2015

Writer: Rellinath
Date Fri Apr 17 16:36:28 2015

To All althainia nordmaar mahalia all

Subject Roots (pt. 1)

'Relly! '

The call came from across the meadow, the youth's ears perking up, catching
the faint voice on the breeze. He looked up and smiled to see one of his
sisters, Veranna, running across the field towards him, her twin Miranna
close behind. They closed the distance quickly, crouching down to see
whatever it was that the boy was so fascinated with.

'Ewwww! Is that a snake? That's disgusting, Relly, leave it alone! '

'No way Vera, it's cool! I'm gonna keep it! Pa will let me keep it! '

'Nuh uh! He won't let you keep a creepy thing like that! Wierdo! '

The boy scooped up the snake and held it out towards his sister, making an
exaggerated hiss sound. Veranna screamed, as only a little girl can scream,
and fell backwards into the grass, scrambling to get away from the serpent,
while Miranna giggled with glee at her sibling's torment. Her mirth quickly
dissipated when the snake was turned in her direction, her shriek of terror
cutting through the air like a knife.

'We'll get you for that, Relly! Beat him up, Vera! '

He took off, sprinting across the field, long legs keeping him well ahead of
his sisters until their cabin was in sight. He burst through the door,
slamming it shut behind him, breathless, then turned around at the sound of
footsteps behind him. He looked up at his father, who towered over him
although he wasn't of particularly large build, long greying hair and bushy
beard seeming always to quiver with mirth over something.

'Pa! Look what I found! Can I keep him? ' The youth displayed his trophy.

'Ah, let us have a look at him then, shall we my boy? Well, he certainly
looks harmless enough, but I think perhaps you had better put him back
outside where he belongs. It is not wise to keep one of Zandreya's children
captive for your own amusement. '

It had never struck the boy how odd that speech was, coming from the lips of
an old nomad. To him, that was just how people spoke. He'd never grown up
knowing anything else. In truth, many things about their life were far from
the average for people of nomadic heritage... Their speech, their manner of
dress, the larders stocked with All manner of foods and drink instead of the
simple, hardy fare of the plains. Even their cabin was out of place for his
people, a sturdy, warm building that served as their home through all
seasons, well-built and comfortable. But to the youth, this was how people
lived. He had no reason to consider it strange.

He couldn't remember the argument that'd made him run away. All he could
remember was that he'd had some fight with his sisters, and his father had
sided with them, and although he could not recall the details of what had
occurred after that, something about the whole ordeal had infurated him,
made him feel as if he had been betrayed by his entire family. He'd waited
until that evening, and then gathered his few belongings, his survival knife
and pack, had stolen a few weeks worth of supplies from the larder, and then
fled into the night, not looking back and not caring what happened to him or
to them. He hadn't even bothered to say goodbye.


Writer: Rellinath

Date Fri Apr 17 16:52:10 2015

To All althainia nordmaar mahalia all

Subject Roots (pt. 2)

As he'd grown tall and strong, making his own way throughout the world,
he'd learned a few things about that past, things that had troubled him even
further and reinforced his decision to leave. The nomadic tribes from which
he had supposedly sprung were different than his family, and his manner of
speech was considered refined for one such as he, born of a commoner and
raised among field and forest. Though he had trouble with the written word,
speech came to him naturally, as did a connection with the wilds around him.
But he found that his connection to his family only weakened as the
realizations flooded through him... His father had hidden something from
him, something important, and though he was certain there must have been a
good reason this knowledge still stung the young man, and he had never
bothered to get back in touch with his father. He had learned in passing
that his sisters had moved from the plains to the relative civilization of
New Thalos, and he had stopped by once or twice to talk about times gone by,
but he'd never inquired as to what had happened to his father. At least, he
hadn't until recently...

'Do you have a surname, Rell? '

The simplicity of the question that Mahalia had asked him troubled him more
than perhaps it should have. He dwelled on it, long after they had parted
ways for the evening. He dwelled on it throughout the day as he tended to
the Empire's stables. He dwelled on it that evening during his patrols, his
companion Minah looking up at him through feline eyes that saw far more than
they should. And finally he had given in to his curiosity and found the
courage to ask his sister Veranna what had happened to his father.

The man, now grown and full of vigor and appreciation for life's joys,
revelling in his newfound engagement to the woman of his life, turned the
last corner of the small path through the forest. This is where Pa lived
now, Veranna had told him, though something in her eyes had troubled him.
He strode into the clearing, yelling at the top of his lungs so that his
father could hear him and welcome his son home.

'PA! '

He stopped, his voice echoing throughout the forest. He stared,
dumbfounded, at the empty clearing. His eyes fixated on the slab of stone
in the center of the grove. Dread crept over him, ice filling his veins, as
he walked forward and read, through eyes fast filling with tears, the

Here lies the body of Tippton McGregor, once long ago of Nordmaar, loving
father to his son Rellinath and his two daughters, Veranna and Miranna. May
Zandreya keep him to her side forevermore.

He didn't know how long he stood there. He didn't remember sinking to his
knees, or falling to the ground. He barely remembered how he'd gotten
there. But, at last, he pushed himself up and sat next to the grave, and he
spoke. He spoke to his father, for the first time in almost ten years. And
he told him of his life, of his trails through the wilds of Althainia, of
his journey to Arkania, of his first encounter with his beloved companion
Minah, of his settling in Arkane and his subsequent departure, and of his
return to the land of his birth as a citizen of the Empire. And finally, he
told him about Mahalia, the future daughter-in-law that he would never know.

'It's really a shame, Pa. You would have loved Hali. I wish I could have
introduced you... '

He rose to his feet, wiped a few last tears from his eyes, and slowly walked
back to the city. Behind him, he left not only his father, but the McGregor
family name. For although that may have been where he came from, it was
never who he was.

That name was not his to bear.


Writer: Szehl

Date Fri Apr 17 18:06:59 2015

Writer: Milleuda

Date Fri Apr 17 19:58:49 2015

Writer: Milleuda

Date Fri Apr 17 20:11:47 2015

Writer: Milleuda

Date Fri Apr 17 22:18:10 2015

Writer: Jaidyn

Date Sat Apr 18 00:49:46 2015

Writer: Ellminaidra

Date Sat Apr 18 03:28:40 2015



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