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Writer: Braknum
Date Tue Aug 9 14:42:25 2022
Writer: Braknum
Date Tue Aug 9 16:09:10 2022
Writer: N'othro
Date Tue Aug 9 16:49:32 2022
Writer: Sedinae
Date Tue Aug 9 17:02:27 2022
Writer: Geirhart
Date Wed Aug 10 07:41:41 2022
To All Xenophon Cayenna Religion
Subject Raise the Stone : Death of Dreams
The old priest sat at his desk with reports from Althainia, the Great
Forest, and various troop activies littering it. He had been lax as of late
so he shuffled the papers, updated himself on events, and sent out runners
to the Lords and the Althainian deployment.
Once the desk was cleaned up, he stared at the wooden finish for a time,
trapped in his own thoughts. The recent gathering had not gone as well as
he had hoped. There was little energy for his project but what was most
concerning was King Fynix's response. The Arkanians had seemed to forget
the fantastic and have settled on merely building a wall. Similarly the
Althainian dam and flowers were equally more material than magical. Had the
world, so recently treated to Nadrik's wrath, forgotten that this is a place
of unfettered imagination?
The Nightmares of the Darkness had manifested themselves upon the realm.
Even when Nadrik had given them consequences for their actions, they quite
quickly returned the world back to it's new normal status quo. The forces
of Light, so hopeful in Nadrik's actions, were now back to what they had
been doing before. Many keeping to themselves and their own works. No
greater response was organized. Directionless for so many absent minds and
hearts led to no movement at all.
Even when called upon, Geirhart's friends did fairly little to help him.
Those who answered the call never responded to future meetings. The
Darkness chided him as being no leader like Telthian, their gods not as
active as Drakkara or Fatale were. The most depressing of it All was that
mortals didn't believe they had power to promote change. No faith in their
ability to have a dream and organize it to completion so they focused on
small things.
The old man felt the weight of his years. What could he do? Would this be
the moment when even his faith in others would crumble? Where he would
abdicate his responsibility to the Balance? Surely they had more resources
than the Light and if Goodness failed, the Pantheon of Kwainin would need to
pick up the pieces to restore balance. Is the best hope for Algoron truly
for Good to do nothing?
Writer: Penelopina
Date Wed Aug 10 08:30:36 2022
To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Marauders Immortals Taliena
Subject Cleaning Up After Chaos! Part Two!
{pIn her research on holy rites, Penny found that some old civilizations
referred to silver as a lunar metal. That it had special properties in
regards to the magic of the arcane. And that it was useful in repelling and
{pdestroying unnatural creatures, like vampires and werewolves. So from there
it had grown into the go-to metal of choice for holy rituals that invoked
the gods. Even some of the dark gods.
{pSo it was that Penelopina Starflower (pending) Sha'evlas found herself
sitting cross-legged before the warped symbols of the Everwar, chanting a
hymn to the Goddess of Mending and Healing, and lightly tapping a silver
{pbell every minute, on the minute. The soft resonance she hoped would
disrupt the chaotic magics left by Malachive.
{pSo she kept up the chant. Lightly chimed the silver bell. For a full hour
under the noon day sun.
{pAs always, her protectors were a short distance away, stoic and unmoving as
vallenwood trees. They let nothing distract them, no idle thoughts, no
minute concerns. No smiling, ever. Their work was to guard and guard {pthey
did. She suspected if she walked up to one and poked him, he'd topple right
over like a felled oak. By contrast, the Marauder soldiers nearby seemed a
lot less disciplined, some of them clearly there to amuse themselves
{pwatching her efforts to help their home, as opposed to help. None of them
were stupid enough to mock while their Warlord or Highlord were present, of
course, but Penny was not so nave she did not notice the sneers of
disbelief. These were {pmen who did not truly care of gods, or causes. Only
to fight and kill and probably make some gold doing so. They didn't care
their fort was infested with wickedness and evil, anymore than they would
smell the roses on the road to whatever {pplace they were battling.
{pNo joy in their souls.
{pSighing, Penny put away her bell as she completed her ritual, then took a
ragcloth and some holy water to try and wash away the marks like ordinary
grafitti. This time, perhaps they would be removable. She very much
doubted it, however. It {pwasn't just the power of Chaos keeping them here,
it was the people. They simply did not seem to care enough to fix them
themselves.
{pAnd much as she wished to, she could not do this for them. She could only
help.
Writer: Fynix
Date Wed Aug 10 10:06:16 2022
To All Arkane Tritoch
Subject |A| Paw of the Queen |A|
With the Queen ill for the foreseeable future, it fell to Fynix to manage
a lot of the kingdom in her absence. Given they had always been a team when
it came to ruling, that didn't make things All that hard. But it meant
every week, at the end of the week, he met with her for a few hours to
discuss kingdom matters. Afterwards, they could both kick off their shoes
and relax for a bit as husband and wife, but for now, they had important
matters to discuss.
'... Clean-up after the Magic Faires All finished, ' he explained. 'We did
ask a ranger Sentry to discreetly tail the penguin and kender farmer but he
lost track of them... I doubt its a big deal. Conclave just wants to try
and harvest those feyberries for reasons other than a good time. Let 'em
try, I say. '
Zarina nodded, sitting in bed with a cup of herbal tea in her hands. It was
amazing how, even under the weather, she could still look so regal and
beautiful, and Fynix still counted his lucky stars that this woman, of all
the women in Algoron had been the one to tame his wild heart. As well as
shackle him down in matrimony, the term that once made him shudder in
terror.
'The Conclave is welcome to explore their own uses for the berries, but its
not our job to do it for them. Anything else? ' she inquired.
'Just the meeting with Executor Geirhart about the Sunstone Proposal, '
Fynix said, briefly reminding her of the details involved. The who and when
and where. And then he conveyed the what that was discussed.
Zarina took a moment to digest the information, a frown playing across her
pretty features. 'Hmm. I'm not sure that would have been such a good
idea... ' she said.
'My thoughts exactly! ' Fynix replied. 'This whole thing has gotten wildly
out of hand if the Light thinks that building a giant super weapon is the
best they can come up with. I mean, come ON!"
'It does seem far too much effort for far too little gain... And what would
happen if the rays of sunlight were off? Even a few degrees could mean the
difference between baking the muck and cooking Arkane itself. '
A poignant reminder of his childhood, when Fynix had witnessed several
children growing up who would take lenses of crystal and glass and use them
to magnify the rays of the sun, and use them to roast anthills for their
personal amusement.
'If I'm being honest? I'm more worried those few degrees would be off less
accidentally and more intentionally, ' Fynix said, moving over to sit by her
bedside. "Sure, everyone says they want what is best for Arkane, but how long
until "The Light"' and here he made the quotation marks with his fingers.
'Suddenly decide Arkane isn't "good" enough for them? '
The Queen frowned lightly at the reminder. Over the past year or so,
numerous people had approached her and her husband regarding the muck and
what to do with it. A decorated general from Gareths Keep. A prominent
figure in the Abaddonian leadership. Shalonesti nobles. Priests, druids,
witches, scholars, or just bored individuals. All different but with one
thing in common: none of them actually lived in Arkane. 'Such power should
not be in the hands of anyone, mortal or otherwise, ' Zarina decided.
Fynix nodded firmly in agreement.
'Agreed. Plus, we're doing fine. So I turned down the idea, ' he
explained. 'We said we'd help if they came up with other projects, and they
said they'd help us with our muck shoveling and wall building but... I
wouldn't count on that. Lots of people say that then never do. And
unfortunately, no word from the Builders Guild yet on that either. '
A sigh slipped from Zarina's lips, this was hardly unusual, they were very
busy people. Not much they could do about that. He nodded in full
agreement, and with their kingdom duties All discussed, they settled in
comfortably to talk of more pleasant matters, like their daughters, or else
plans for the future. Even if it was just dinner plans for tomorrow.
Writer: Braknum
Date Wed Aug 10 12:03:21 2022
Writer: Braknum
Date Wed Aug 10 12:18:33 2022
Writer: Memnoona
Date Wed Aug 10 15:38:04 2022
To Knighthood Justice White_Robes Geirhart All Kantilles ( RP Storyline IMM )
Subject (I) Research and Resourcefulness: Brokerage of Rare Minerals
Memnoona was tinkering with assorted gems and crystals within the Arcane Vaults
when a voice called out, "Magus. The order came in."
The gnome put down her gem project and turned to face the student. Memnoona was
excited to get this product in. She was lucky enough to find specimens on her
own in the past, but she hastily sold them when she acquired them because the
price was so great. Well, now she was paying that price! Memnoona approached
the student, a plain looking human male dressed in red robes, and graciously
accepted a parcel wrapped in cracked leather lined with soft cotton.
She unfurled the parcel and smiled happily! A fairly unimpressive specimen, but
to the trained eye, one could see how exceptional it was. A small rod of ferrite
no bigger than three inches long and one inch thick. Memnoona patted the human
on the arm gently and said happily, "Thank you so much for transporting this. I
will put in a good word for you when it comes time for you to find a teacher."
With a smile of satisfaction the human student nodded and walked out of the
arcane vaults, leaving behind the gnome magus to inspect the ferrite's fairly
dour isometric qualities in the light of the room. Behind her rested her little
personal project: a line of different lengths of wood, metal, and crystal all
resembling rods missing reagents.
Writer: Damerus
Date Fri Aug 12 01:12:47 2022
To All Liviya ( Imm Immortal RP Religion Storyline Nadrik )
Subject A Change of Fate
Let not desire, nor fickle friendships cast you into darkness. Cast
light into it instead and show those lost the way out. But do not let
anything chip away at your honor.
He stood there, gazing upwards. The imposing bronze statue of Nadrik
looming imperiously over the temple, bathing him in a shadow that was more
than just literal. His silvered, crimson hair was unbound and unkempt,
giving him the appearance of a man for whom rest had alluded for many a day.
The expression on his face was confused, and as he gazed up toward the
statue with his good eye, he frowned.
It is our prayer that you can lead any and All from the darkness to the
light.
He had tried. He was no Priest - he had no inclination or ability for such
a profession. Instead, he had sought to be the example. To be someone with
whom others would look to and follow by virtue of deed and word. He did not
push, nor did he judge. And though his method never wrought complete and
wholesale change, he had affected some. A lot in his eyes.
Stay among them. He believes in you to be the one who will bring the light
to even the darkest of places.
He had done as commanded. He got as close as he dared to get. A command so
old and time-worn that, as Damerus stood before the statue of His God, he
wondered if Nadrik himself remembered it. He did not know the purpose, yet
he had struggled for this, suffered for it All the same. He had a family
among them now, a wife and children with whom he loved dearly. As the years
rolled on, he had never questioned the purpose, yet some part of him felt as
though he had failed it even without knowing what it was.
Little was clear to him about the events of the other night. One image was
burned into his mind though, something he had seen before. Something that
had once been within his grasp. A time of change had come, and now it was
becoming a time of purpose. He had none. As he recalled the image burned
into his mind though, he was reminded of what it once was. He wondered if
it could be again?
Writer: Grigori
Date Sat Aug 13 11:36:59 2022
To All Arkane Imm
Subject Muckraking
There was, how you say, famous saying:
On Icewall, pessimist says "Things cannot possibly get any worse!"
While optimist says "Da, they can!"
Is good joke.
His tribe (the Blackpaws) on Icewall had a lot of crude humor like that, but
right now he was starting to think that it was appropriate. He had, of
course, joined up for the efforts to shovel the muck in Arkane, at the
behest of the King and Queen. But it felt like some days as if the muck was
shoveling him. Because right now his arms were sore, his back ached, all
four of his legs were tired, and he was covered in filth. And fur was not
something easy to wash, he should know. And that was to say nothing of how
little he had managed to accomplish through his efforts. Some days he swore
the muck wasn't moving at all!
Still, Grigori was not the type who complained.
Work to get done, best get it done.
Writer: Damerus
Date Sat Aug 13 23:18:31 2022
Writer: N'othro
Date Tue Aug 16 13:07:57 2022
To Z'Quarus Marren Abaddon All ( Fatale Drakkara Immortal Religion RP Zypher Xenophone Ampersand )
Subject Hunt for the Matriarchs: Part 3
The young warlock gazed over the Blood River with cold eyes as dusk
settled in fully.
"Feast, sacred beasts. Receive these gifts and feast upon them. Feast,
that we might "
Dozens of ripples within the waters betrayed the ferocious activity beneath
the crimson flow. The contingent of four students standing near N'othro
retreated back from the riverbank, no longer holding the sacrifices that
just moments ago had been begging for release. Now, their voices made
silent by the roiling mass in the depths.
One of the students stepped forward and, with a simple cantrip, conjured a
ball of light within her hands. The young enchantress, Marren, continued
the cantrip despite the ball already forming. As her soft words spoke over
the magic made manifest, the brilliance of the light intensified. A gentle
shift of her hands and the ball of light was encapsulated with form.
Another student stepped forward to Marren and began deftly wrapping cord
around the manifested magic. Stones were then attached to ends of the cord.
Marren shifted her hands as she spoke the words and soon the ball of light
came to life. Shifting to and fro against the weight of the stone, the ball
waited to receive the will of its master. It did not wait long. In a
moment it began dragging itself toward the riverbank's edge. The ball,
floating only a foot above the ground, slowly pulled the stones along with
it before finally slipping beneath the crimson tide.
The scene that unfolded was haunting. The brilliance of Marren's light
pulsating beneath the ripples revealed shadows of the terror befalling their
sacrifices. The bipedal forms were being swarmed by dozens of pythons
coiling and striking at their prey in uncanny concert with one another. It
was mesmerizing. It was horrifying. It was a murder concerto performed
within Fatale's own Bloodlands perhaps by Fatale's own creation.
As several moments passed and the scene of ravage continued, a smaller
python's shadow could be seen edging away from the rest of the swarm.
N'othro attention fully shifted to the singular sinew shadow of a python as
it neared the riverbanks. 'That one. ' He said. 'That shall be our
compensation with which we shall endeavor to learn the secrets of the deep.
May the murder feast of the night prove itself worthy in more than one way.
Writer: Nazria
Date Tue Aug 16 14:11:24 2022
Writer: Memnoona
Date Tue Aug 16 15:35:59 2022
To Knighthood Justice White_Robes Geirhart All Kantilles ( RP Storyline IMM )
Subject (II) Research and Resourcefulness: Which Wand, Which One
With ferrite in hand, Memnoona turned on her heels and approached her station
in the arcane vault. She loved working with magic items like staves and wands
and found them to be highly effective vehicles for reagent-based magic. It was
a pretty neglected form of sorcery, but that made it even "cuter" to Memnoona.
Like a hungry, attention-starved magic puppy cold and alone on the street. The
disciplines of sorcery less explored oftentimes had the most space to expand
and to grow into something that would catch the eye!
On her workstation rested an array of differently sized lengths of wood and of
metal. The torchlights in the chamber burned stationary in the still tower air
with the sounds of hurried mages no where to be heard. Memnoona pinches the
ferrite between her fingertips and stared at her first subject: a plain length
of elm of ten inches. Simple design and no bells and whistles! She lifted the
wand with one hand and held it at arm's length away as she prepared herself.
The gnome magus began mumbling some arcane-calculus as she lowered the tiny
ferrite crystal to the elm wand. A thin lick of blue electricity craned from
the dour ferrite and to the end of the wand. Like an insect's proboscis, the
electricity probed the wand searchingly. Memnoona inched the ferrite closer
and closer to the elm wand, All the while a high-pitched whistling began to
manifest beginning quiet and then increasing to a shrill din.
Writer: Penelopina
Date Wed Aug 17 08:36:23 2022
To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Marauders Immortals Taliena
Subject Cleaning Up After Chaos! Part Three!
{pScrub. Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. Scrub.
{pWashcloth and holy water, Penny pressed her hands against the cold stone
wall and did her best to erase the marks of the EverWar. Nearly a full week
of working and she was disappointed {pto see there had been almost no
progress, they looked almost as fresh as the day she had arrived.
{pWringing out her washcloth in a spare bucket, she dabbed it in the holy
water again and went right back to the awful marks, trying not to look
closely at them. Even now, she still felt queasy just being near them.
Like something awful {phad settled into her stomach. Penny had learned not to
eat a full meal before coming to Fort Ironclad, if she wanted to avoid
feeling sick around the chaos markings.
{pScrub. Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. Scrub.
Writer: Memnoona
Date Wed Aug 17 20:25:50 2022
To Knighthood Justice White_Robes Geirhart All Kantilles ( RP Storyline IMM )
Subject (III) Research and Resourcefulness: Troubles with Material Sciences
The shrill whistling became so loud that Memnoona could hardly hear herself
speak the arcane words to bind the ferrite with the elm wand. The electricity
emitted from the ferrite transitioned with the whistling, transforming from
blue arcs searchingly grasping at the wand to jagged, crackling purple bolts.
Each tiny bolt that collided with the wand was stronger than the last to the
point that the gnome magus was getting distracted from how uncomfortable and
nervous she felt.
Memnoona's hesitation was All the negative reaction needed. The electricity
immediately turned red as she stumbled in her arcane-calculus and the whistle
became a short, but deafening roar. The red electricity blasted the wand out
of the gnome's hand and sent it flying in pieces All over the room in sharp,
smoldering splinters. Simultaneously, the ferrite was repelled back over her
shoulder and shattered against the wall. With a yelp of surprise, Memnoona
fell backwards onto her rear and covered her head with her hands.
It All just happened so quickly. The smell of singed wood accented the humid
mildewy odor of the tower's air. Memnoona uncovered her head and began a very
nervous inventory of her body and well-being.
Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Fri Aug 19 02:28:01 2022
Writer: Memnoona
Date Tue Aug 23 11:39:17 2022
To Knighthood Justice White_Robes Geirhart All Kantilles ( RP Storyline IMM )
Subject (IV) Research and Resourcefulness: Accounted For Outcomes
Memnoona began a frantic patdown of her physical inventories. Ears. Eyes. Arms.
Legs. Head. Fingers. Toes. Teeth. Tongue. Nose. Everything seemed to be fine
with not a single splinched magical trait like a tentacle growing out of her
side or a hoove in the middle of her forehead. In terms of disasters, this was
a qualifiable success with no sustained damage or arcane anomaly.
The room was a mess. Pieces of elm wand cinders littered the workspace floor,
but with a wave of her hand and a spellword, the gnome conjured a wind to pull
all of the smoking wand pieces into the center of the room for easy cleaning
and discarding. She knelt by the pile and sifted through the burnt wood and
took note of the shapes she pinched off the floor: splinters and shards. It
wasn't an unknown outcome, but it still disappointed her. She would need to
put more work into "stress testing" the wands she uses in future experiments.
Memnoona groaned, hugging her knees to her chest and blew a frustrated rasp-
berry. She looked up and traced the walls of the arcane workshop until she
found the surface that the ferrite crystal shattered against. It wasn't very
remarkable at all. Just a small dent with not a trace of the ferrite left. It
may have atomized altogether.
She stood up and wandered to her workstation, grumbling about having to source
and buy more ferrite.
Writer: Nusa
Date Wed Aug 24 08:33:34 2022
To All Arkane Immortals Zanda
Subject Rich Soil, Filthy Mud
Normally, cleaning filth was beneath her. Unless it was showering off
the sweat of a successful performance.
Nusa Nasallah made a living on being pretty. Being a dancer meant more than
just knowing the motions, it was about taking care of her body. She spent
whole days dieting until she was close to starving, she polished every scale
until they shined like fire, she exercised meticulously every muscle in her
body All the way to the tip of her tail.
So naturally, when volunteers had been asked for, to help with cleaning up
the muck fields and fixing Arkane, she had turned up her delicate snout and
decided to decline. Its not like a dancer would be much use to them, after
all. And that was allowed. It wasn't mandatory.
But as time wore on, and she saw more and more the tired faces of exhausted
Arkanians struggling to shovel and build and plant and fix their city, she
realized how deeply they loved their home. As an outcast from Tropica, it
touched a chord with the bakali dancer, and she realized she had come to
love Arkane as well. How free she felt here, able to be herself.
With such freedoms and privledges afforded her, was a little shoveling too
much to ask?
So it was the next day she found herself in a very unflattering gray shirt
and overalls, instead of her customary silks and veil. Most barely
recognized her, and she was content with that, but by Zanda, she would at
least know she did her part.
And so she picked up a shovel in her soft, smooth-scaled hands, and followed
the lead of the organizer, plunging it into the muck, and hoisting it up to
toss down range or into the nearby wagons, to be carried to other places.
Tonight, she vowed, she was getting a nice bath, and soaking until she her
very scales wrinkled.
Writer: Penelopina
Date Wed Aug 24 10:57:24 2022
To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Marauders Immortals Taliena
Subject Cleaning Up After Chaos! Part Four!
{p"simply knocking the walls down and hiring a mason to repair them...{p"
{pThe plan surprised Penny, but she supposed there was a simple sort of logic
to it. If a wooden tree was {pinfested with rot, sometimes you had to cut it
down and plant anew. Perhaps that metaphor was {pappropriate here as well.
She wasn't quite sure, however. Something didn't feel right about it all.
{pSo Penny came to visit the day of the proposed wall-knocking, bringing with
her the usual tools of purification {pand prayer.
{pAs the masons made to chip at the wall and break down the foundation, to
make it easier to collapse later, {pPenny lightly rang her silver bell and
chanted the hymns of Taliena. On either side of her were the Sha'falas
{pguards or her escort from the Marauder recruits. But it didn't look as if
anybody else had come out. Just {pthe Highlord and his Warlord. Or was it
the other way around? She wasn't sure, she barely saw either.
{pAnother soft chime of the bell, again the whispered words of prayer. To
mend what was broken. To heal what {pwas injured. To fix what was disturbed.
{pShe invited everyone to join her in prayer, but no one did.
Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Aug 24 21:59:55 2022
Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Aug 24 22:09:28 2022
Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Aug 24 22:16:52 2022
Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Aug 24 22:17:05 2022
Writer: Geirhart
Date Thu Aug 25 09:31:27 2022
To Althainia Arkane Knighthood Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Justice Memnoona Rahma Timmel Imm Religion Xenophon ( All )
Subject Raise the Stone : Set Sail
Captain Gaemra stood at the helm of the Sancrosanct gazing into the waves
that beat upon the old ship. She was not sure about this new Executor. He
was old and pious, not like the warrior leaders she was used to. Even
Thrakhath, the Sentinel of Austinian, had been a true faithful but also a
warrior of reknown. This doubt and confusion pulled at the edges of her
sense of duty. Why was this priest sending a large group of the Wrath out
on an errant mission, outside the normal wars? She should be fighting
pirates and villains not carrying cargo to some far away land.
TWO DAYS PRIOR
'Greetings Captain Gaermra Steelclaw, apologies for our late meeting. How
fairs our sea vessel? ' inquired the old man.
The orc woman was tall and fierce, skin scarred and tanned from battles at
sea. Two scimitars were sheathed by her side and in the candle light, her
shaved head seemed almost a metalic bronze with numerous dark tatoos
swirlling around it. The smell of salt and leather seemed to follow her
like a cloak, filling the small space of the Executor's office.
She saluted him, a grin appearing on her face to show off her white fanged
teeth and green eyes filled with pride. 'The Sancrosanct is fit and able,
sir. I just finished her inspection and she is fully maintained. Ready to
take on anything that the curs of the Dungeon or any other pirate who
threatens the tidal crossings. ' Her hands on her hips, she faced down the
Executor with the confidence of a veteran.
'Excellent work out there Captain! However there is a new project that we
are undertaking with the assistance of some of our allies out in the seas.
For this work, we hope not to encounter resistance as it will be mostly a
transport endeavor to start. You will be taking a force of twenty soldiers
from the various groups. They will be our spearhead and setup logistics at
the site you are heading to. Your sailors will provide escort from the ship
to the site and then will patrol the landing area to assist those of the
alliance who sail into the bay or to fend off any threats, mortal or beast.
Your time away will be about three weeks to a month. Make sure you have
provisions for a long time away. I have already told the Quartermaster to
provide whatever you ay need. ' spoke the Cardinal.
Gaermra looked down at the thin man. His form was wiry and hands rough,
obviously he had worked hard in whatever path he had lived before he became
a priest. His head was also bald but not shaven, merely lost in age.
Though his mantle was that of a Cardinal, he was no warrior priest riding
into battle. This man was best suited to some country chapel tending to
farmers and villagers, not an army.
'As you order, Executor but I will need to know our destination so as to
properly prepare. And while you say this is a transport mission, a simple
transport does not take neigh a month of time to complete in these days of
magic! I would like to know what my sailors will be doing, honestly.. Sir.
' she said as her brow creased in concern and a bit of annoyance.
'True, true. You will be the vanguard of something new. The Wrath of
Justice has been a force of retribution upon the wicked. For All we offer,
seldom do we create anything save the bonds between soldiers as worthy as
that is. Your work, the work of others, will contribute to the creation of
something new. Trust that it will be for the benefit of all. As for the
location, you will be sailing to...... '
TODAY
Gaermra looked up with her keen eyes and spotted the land before the sailor
in the crows nest could bark it out. Spitting onto the wooden deck she
began barking out orders for setting anchor and preparing to get the boats
ashore. Taking one last glance at the beach, she knew she did not like this
plan for there was no fight in it.
'What in the Tempest's name is this for? '
Writer: Penelopina
Date Thu Aug 25 16:06:46 2022
To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Immortals Whiskey Taliena
Subject Legs, Know How to Use Them!
{pWhen it came to fashion, Penelopina Starflower Sha'evlas was no expert.
Just because she could sew virtually any sorts of clothing these days, she
wasn't certain what people liked to wear, or what was in season this season.
She knew what {pwas comfortable, what was warm, and she knew what was
protective. Beyond that...
{pWell, not knowing how to do something had never stopped her before.
{pAnd so the evening found her in the grove by the Harmonious Rain Waterfall,
walking around the rippling pool with careful, measured steps, a book
balanced atop of her head. Stepping forward with a subtle sway of her hips,
in a dress of her own making.
{p'One, two... One, two... {p' she counted, measuring her steps. One foot in
front of the other. Focusing on keeping her head up, chin raised, shoulders
back, and with a natural flow to her arms, legs, hips, and every other part
of {pher. Then, a pause at the end of her makeshift "runway" she would turn,
first one way, then the other, showing off her petite physique. Hard as the
practice was, it was also fun. She imagined it would be less {pso in front of
a huge audience, but she would hardly have become a priestess if she had
stage fright in front of large crowds. And her regular Leg Day routine had
given her quite the gorgeous gams for kicking (as more than a few Clanners
could attest) so that wouldn't be a problem.
{pThe theme for the upcoming Algoron Fashion Walk was "Celestial Celebrations"
and it fit great with a number of ideas she'd had following the Festival of
the Stars. Considering their Speakers were of the {pSun and Stars, the Elven
People of the Vallenwoods loved the Night as much as the Day, and for good
reason. After all, there was an immense beauty in the night sky, the stars,
the triple {pmoons, and so much more. And then, the other night, oh how she
had been inspired...
{pShe paused mid-step, nearly dropping her book, as she heard a noise. Had
someone seen her?
{pBut it appeared it was only a bunny rabbit darting behind a bush, whch had
rustled the leaves. No one saw her new outfit. Not yet, at least. And she
was determined to {pkeep the surprise up until the day in question.
{pShe started to step forward again, but wobbled, and this time she stumbled
to one knee, dropping her book to the grassy ground. Cursed high heels.
Clearly the work of some dark warlock who enjoyed {ptormenting the women who
wore them. All this to add a little {pheight? So not worth it. How did the
royalty do it so casually? Sighing, she stood back up on wobbly feet,
correcting her balance, and continued to walk, practicing her strut. She
didn't necessarily want to win the competition, but she definitely wanted to
put on a memorable show.
Writer: Memnoona
Date Fri Aug 26 19:30:35 2022
To Knighthood Justice White_Robes Geirhart All Kantilles ( RP Storyline IMM )
Subject (V) Research and Resourcefulness: Back to Formula
It didn't take long for Memnoona to clean up the arcane workstation after her
execution flub. The charred elm wand splinters didn't smell unpleasant, they
actually left the olfactory impression of a campfire in the room. The bitter
tang of failure was All the gnome could think about or taste though. Ferrite
wasn't a cheap to purchase and finding a suitably sized sample takes a lot of
time to track down.
Memnoona hastily packed up the rest of the empty wands and transplanted them
into her vault. She closed the vault door gently and had herself a moment. She
pressed her back up against the vault door and she bonked the back of her head
against it. The girl closed her eyes and mouthed the incantation to bind the
ferrite to the wand again. She practiced this way for a minute and garnered
the attention of a few concerned faculty and students passing by. They said
nothing, but she appreciated that. They couldn't make her feel worse or better
about her faltering.
The magus stopped her self-depreciation ritual and sighed. Her eyes opened and
she exhaled loudly from her nostrils. Resolute! It is time to be resolute. You
only fail if you stop trying.
Writer: Memnoona
Date Sat Aug 27 17:45:43 2022
To Knighthood Justice White_Robes Geirhart All Kantilles ( RP Storyline IMM )
Subject (VI) Research and Resourcefulness: Glennflynn Greasegear
Memnoona, emboldened with new hope and energy, gripped a warpstone in her hand.
She waved the warpstone in a circle and uttered an incantation, causing it to
evaporate in her hand and coalesce into a nexus before her. It was Gahboom and,
as always, it was busy. She stepped through the nexus and into the gnome city
with its inventors, lawmakers, and scholars hussling to their places of work. It
was always a lot to take in, but Memnoona knew where she was going.
Weaving in and out of the heavy foot traffic, the magus walked through the door
of the Magical Stycks, Gahboom's premier magical tool establish. Memnoona knew
that she had to fill in the gaps of her understanding of wandcrafting with the
expertise of another. Why not lean on the wisdom of Gahboom's top wandcraft and
reagent scholar: Glennflynn Greasegear. He was a practical gnome with his wares
being plainly displayed with signs such as "wands", "staves", or "sticks". The
river mural in the store calmed Memnoona's racing heart after finding her way
out of the busy streets.
Across the room and behind the counter sat Glennflynn inspecting a length of
wood that Memnoona assumed was a wand or wandbase. He glanced at the magus,
plucked the loupe from his eye, and clasped his hands together to rest on the
surface before him.
"Welcome to Magical Stycks, where our wares never tock and tick. I am Glenflynn.
What can I do for you today," he chimed like a seasoned businessman.
Writer: Memnoona
Date Sat Aug 27 18:08:33 2022
To Knighthood Justice White_Robes Geirhart All Kantilles ( RP Storyline IMM )
Subject Research and Resourcefulness: The Story of the Greasegears
Glennflynn Greasegear was once the sole heir to the Greasegear family name and
fortune. Greasegear's Gear Grease lubricants are renowned for their quality in
the gnome city. Every single department of the Gahboom Technologists Corp used
Greasegear products in their instruments and machines. It was the pride of the
Greasegear family and, by extension, Gahboom City.
The accomplishments of gnomes tended to be shared by the entire community as
they advanced in their own studies. The reason for this is simple: Gahboom
citizens All benefited from eachother's "EUREKA" moments. New discoveries tend
to make the lives of gnomish neighbors easier. Glennflynn's father, Egadwig
Greasegear, perfected the formula both as a passion and, coincidentally, as
part of his gnomish lifequest. Gnomes in large communities tended to have
lifequests to carry on the studies of their forebearers, but not Glennflynn.
Glennflynn did not want to make lubricants his lifequest because he already
viewed the science as perfected to the point of, well.. perfection. It was to
everyone's dismay that Glennflynn took up wandcrafting and reagents as his own
life's purpose and devotion. It was the scandal of the century! No one would
shut up about it and if they tried they couldn't. Egadwig made the difficult
choice to disown Glennflynn, guaranteeing the wandcrafter the freedom to make
his own life choices. Just not under Egadwig's roof and room.
Writer: Memnoona
Date Sun Aug 28 12:09:38 2022
To Knighthood Justice White_Robes Geirhart All Kantilles ( RP Storyline IMM )
Subject (VIII) Research and Resourcefulness: Your Hour Begins Now
"Hellooo. I'd like to offer you a short job as a consultant, Glennflynn, sir. I
have a few wandcrafting wand theory and material sciences questions." Memnoona
called out to the shopkeep as she sidled up to the front counter.
"A consultation, rrm? Yes. Yes, I agree to being your consultant in your wand
matters," Glennflynn replied searchingly. He was an average gnome man. Brown
hair and eyes. Pale skin. Bulbous nose. Well-dressed and with each of his ten
pockets filled with instruments. He continued, "I am a business owner, so...
Five eggs down for a minimum of one hour." He coned a hand downward and tapped
his fingertips on the counter surface.
Memnoona pulled a sack of jeweled eggs from her robe, then extracted and placed
each egg on the country in front of the shopowner. Glennflynn's eyes followed
the magus's hand as she lined them each up in front of him in a row. He looked
up at Memnoona and said with a satisfied smile, "Your one hour begins now."
Writer: Memnoona
Date Sun Aug 28 12:20:58 2022
To Knighthood Justice White_Robes Geirhart All Kantilles ( RP Storyline IMM )
Subject (IX) Research and Resourcefulness: Tolerances
"I'm working on a mana particle transference instrument using ferrite, sir. I
intend on sapping mana from one big object and housing it in a magic instrument
for later use, but I need a little guidance on how to feel more comfortable with
managing the incantation and the violence of the reaction when marrying the gem
with the wandhost," Memnoona explained. It pained her a little to admit defeat,
but she felt liberated in the freedom of just saying it too. She puffed one of
her cheeks a little and made a quiet raspberry sound.
Glennflynn leaned forward in his seat and sniffed a little. He put his loupe
back over his eye and glanced over Memnoona to give her an ocular patdown. He
removed the loupe and clasped his hands, "Ferrite is a pseudo-magical mineral
compound. It appears you chose a wandhost made of a fiber, likely a wood. You
must marry this component with a wandhost of similar make and tolerance, my
dear." Memnoona looked on her person for what the wandcrafter was referring to
and spied some wooden splinters. She swiped off a hand and jumped to shake all
of them off.
He went on, "You cannot jerry-rig a metallic or mineral onto a wooden wand and
expect it to keep. The incantation for marrying a reagent to a wand.. it's like
shooting a wooden arrow into the center point of a great-spear made of steel. It
will break- both will break if you're clumsy with your arcane pronounciations."
Writer: Memnoona
Date Sun Aug 28 15:57:54 2022
To Knighthood Justice White_Robes Geirhart All Kantilles ( RP Storyline IMM )
Subject (X) Research and Resourcefulness: Lessons in Material Sciences
Memnoona bit her bottom lip as she reflected. She swallowed her other shame:
she did not fully commit to the incantation. When the wand began rejecting the
ferrite and vice versa, it began violently shaking and crackling. It was enough
to make the magus hesitate, thereby facilitating a violent rejection reaction.
"It's like opening the door to your home with the intention of leaving, but you
also unwittingly give your housecat an opportunity to escape. You opened the
door, thought you left the kettle on while the door was open, and the cat ran
outside," explained Glennflynn while he made scurrying motions with his fingers
on his countertop. He reached behind his counter and pulled out a slim paper
box. He set it on the counter in front of him, "You need more conviction and
you need metal wands for your metal reagent. A ferrocrystalline mineral needs
a solid and sound wand." He patted the top of the box.
Memnoona reached out to touch the box. The gnome wandmaker grabbed it before
she could touch it and said carefully, "Don't just speak the words of the
be another five eggs for the wandcasings."
Writer: Hoffgasser
Date Mon Aug 29 23:45:06 2022
Writer: Maccus
Date Tue Aug 30 01:52:06 2022
Writer: Maccus
Date Tue Aug 30 02:04:11 2022
Writer: Symantha
Date Tue Aug 30 02:16:34 2022
To All Shadow Verminasia Abaddon Carrionmaw ( Drakkara Necrucifer Cayenna Scorn )
Subject {uThe Tide Rises - Plains of Crystal
They stood arrayed in a place of unmaking. On a threshold of dark divine
change, to gaze upon the emptiness of a dead god's star.
The constellations had once wheeled overhead, as assured as the next day.
The peoples of the land had known them All - guiding and watchful stars,
each with the name of a God or Goddess.
How many, she wondered now, had once existed that were no more - as this one
had become. As Necrucifer now was: His power taken in its entirety, His
essence shattered into nothing.
Like a hole in the fabric of the Night, what had empowered it now a mere
nebulous wisp that whirled down through a void of dark to an obelisk below.
The black stone jutted from the sandy ground, its surface etched with divine
spells so far beyond her ken that to study them was to look on the direct
works of the Goddess. It felt blasphemous, dangerous, so she shied away
from it and instead turned to the Dark Lord -- only to stop short.
The loss drove deep, into the core of what he was and who he had been. She
understood this, even though she had not shared his years and experiences.
There was a torment in this trek; a breaking to shatter the old, a molding
to create something new, and then a second breaking to free what would come
forth.
The metaphor fit the makeup of the gathering that spanned out behind them
as well.
Verminasians arrayed, bearing the scars of the trek that had brought them
this far. A small assortment of Abaddonians, standing apart. And Shadow,
stalwart in their loss, striving to believe in the path that had been laid
before them. Composed of old and new, but unable to escape their past.
She couldn't be sure what would become of any of them, but she knew exactly
what needed to be done - no matter how Algoron kicked and screamed.
{u++-^-{u++
The plains that stretched out beyond the Living Night were a strange balm,
despite the apparent dangers. The veil had drawn back like a curtain
opening as they finally reached the edge and she knew she was not imagining
the heavy exhales of relief as the procession passed by her. She had
determined to await at the verge, to observe the passing of everyone as they
left the dark waiting behind for the pure wonder of this newest plain.
It was a place of beginning; a doorway and before them, All the steppe
spanned beyond sight. Where the Living Night had been empty - awaiting
creation - this place had begun even though it defied true encompassing.
She saw formations of strange, twisted crystals without rhyme or reason.
The colors and shapes were immaculate, beyond description, as if they
embodied the unfathomable dreams of the Goddess. But they also held a
thrumming power, a coiled threat to any and all, and as she watched some of
them grew or shifted with the sound of cracking or shattering glass.
"Touch nothing." The Dark Lord called out as he walked among the lines of
soldiers and knights. "We will gather, recoup, and continue on after a few
hours rest. We are very near our goal."
They shared a brief gaze, slate grey and steel gray, as he approached her
stance before the dividing curtain of Night.
"Trouble awaits ahead." She remarked quietly and they both turned their
attention to the distance. He already knew, she was aware, but there was
an affirmation in voicing it.
"We will convene with the others to prepare." He answered after a pregnant
pause and lead the way to a hastily drawn tent.
Writer: Claryse
Date Tue Aug 30 02:42:27 2022
To All abadon vershae imms rp
Subject A Den of Iniquity Part 1
The streets of Abaddon were quiet in the midday sun. The sun shown
through the veil brightly illuminating the streets but casting deep shadows
in the buildings and doorways to either side of Depravity road. The run
down building was dirty and possibly dangerous but clear of anything amiss.
As Claryse moved to exit the building she saw two sailors pass. They wore
the unfirom of the Scythe, one of Abaddons two warships.
Parnick said that the tables would be running on the scythe today while the
city sleeps, one sailor said obviously excited. I am going to win back
last weeks losses now that I have my pay. The sailor laughed as he jingled
his money pouch. What are we waiting for then, a taller stockier sailor
laughed with a loud deep rumble. That money wont win itself. With that
both men hurried off towards the entryway to the caverns where the ships
were kept.
Claryse furrowed her brow. Gambling? On the Scythe? Surely this was not
something allowed. All money exchanges in the kingdom were closely
monitored. With a firm set to her shoulders she hurried off after the men
to check out these tables then men hoped to win their money back from.
Stepping through the portal into the hazy cavern the warships are kept in.
A thick mist hangs thick and heavy making it hard to see clearly in the fog.
The mist was unnatural though and didnt coat your skin or feel heavy and
moist when breathing. Making her way through the fog to the ramp up onto
the scythe she could see the eerie shapes of sailors busy at their duties on
the Deliverence but here on the Scythe it was eerily quiet.
The ship was not hard to navigate, the sounds of laughter and music drifted
up from the below decks like a homing beacon. Claryse stopped before the
door to the crew cabin and could hear ruckus laughter and the tingling of
dice and the shuffle of cards and men. She was shocked when she opened the
door to a scene of debauchery. Men and woman of various ranks were crowded
around tables. A blackjack table was laying down a jack for a house win
amidst groans and shouts of Not again! . A roulette wheel spun making a
click clack noise as the ball bounced merrily along its track before coming
to rest on a number. Farthest from the door was a craps tables set against
the far wall. A small weaselly looking man was laughing as a sailor rolled
poorly and sweeping the chips on the table to the house side.
What is going on here?!? , Claryse bellowed over the din and it was as if
she had shot the opening gun at a horse race. Sailors bolted for the door
pushing past her in a steady stream. So quick was the exodus that she
nearly lost her balance as she was jostled by the surging crowd. As the
last few sailors tried to push past she managed to grab the back of the
shirt of the man who had been running the craps table. After a short tussle
that left the man bleeding from the side of his mouth she had the sailor
firmly in hand. You have some questions to answer sailor. Let put you in
the bring and wait for the harbinger to awaken.
Writer: Rahma
Date Wed Aug 31 16:14:11 2022
To All New_Thalos Kyrlynn ( Xenophon Derigimus Taliena )
Subject Grow your gardens: Turning Taliena 1
It was a fine gathering of good doers at the edge of the Blood River. In
the months previous they had been slowly seeding the banks with flowers and
life, continuing the quest to heal the world after the horrific wounding of
it. Now, old Geirhart, the Althainians, the Shalonesti, some highlanders, a
very pink red robe All had gathered at the river's edge outside Althainia's
wall. Most joyful to Rahma Qadira, the Thalosian doctor, was that Brother
Tim had come along this eve. Neither he or she liked the trappings of
mainstream organized religion much. This event promised more to them than
the standard church sermon. This was doing something. Something fun,
something good, something taking them a step closer to healing the world.
"Grow your gardens."
They would be attempting to cleanse the blood river by dumping decanters of
holy water into it. Fancy, simple, and properly devotional holy water vessels
were crafted for the event. Brother Tim's was the best in Rahma's opinion.
A hollowed out watermelon served as his holy water vessel. She told the
Sultan about it, but he simply practiced his elven unimpressed face in
response. No matter, it was clearly best in her mind for it made her laugh
for its cleverness. It was the perfect holy water vessel for Brother Tim.
So along with the various dignitaries and do gooders from around the world
they stood at the edge of the grim river. The gathering was an impressive
display of golden auras and concerned Zandreyans. Brother Tim's lack in the
aura department still disappointed her a touch. That irksome sort of
disappointment when one is disappointed in oneself for being disappointed.
One should consider a person's deeds foremost, the magical spells that
read their auras could be superficial.
A traveler Rahma did not recognize, but others who had been about this part
of the world for longer seemed to know, arrived; heralded by a flute she played.
Tired from the road, the others from the party who knew her seemed to be tending
her, so the doctor focused herself on the matter at hand. Prayer, and pitching
gathered flowers, conjured balls of light - some in fantastic colors, and holy
water into the river of blood. For All the light and color and life from their
collected offerings and cleansing materials it was the best Althainia had ever
looked, in her completely biased, New Thalosian, opinion.
Rahma said her prayer, a variation on the one she had said over a year ago at
the Rip in New Thalos. The words still reflected her hopes for their ongoing
mission. Penny tossed a pinch of purified salt into the River, and at least for
now it seemed like the intrusive, oppressive presence of the blood cutting through
the world was lifted. She and Brother tim dumped the various flowers they had
gathered for the event into the river. A riot of color against the blood red.
The ferns they'd gathered from the White Moon Isle added a feathery green touch.
Old Skalpon (may that ancient elf live a thousand years, and then twice again)
scooped up a pile of the glowing balls of light, mounted his gryffon and flew
over the river, dropping them along its length.
Writer: Rahma
Date Wed Aug 31 16:16:26 2022
To All New_Thalos Kyrlynn ( Xenophon Derigimus Taliena )
Subject Grow your gardens: Turning Taliena 2
While continuing a waterfall of petals and plants into the blood river,
Rahma overheard the Queen of the elves debating with the traveler about the
importance of activity at hand in healing the lands. At one point the
traveler poked her walking stick at Brother Tim and said, "I think this
fellow knows a thing or two about eggs and baskets."
Tim leaned over to Rahma as she dumped another cascade of flowers into the
river and quietly asked, "Wonder iffin this lady knows bout All our efforts.
Figured the eggs an' basket comment is what... Not puttin' All our eggs in
one basket? I dunno."
Rahma considered this, and the implications if the traveler did indeed know
of All of Brother Tim's good deeds, and crazy ideas to banish the Rip from
their homeland. Nothing was off the table so far as the New Thalosians were
concerned in protecting their lands from a horrible and perverse
transformation as promised by the prominent evil priests these days.
Well, except for loading a ship up with explosives, magewinding it up a ramp
on the Ishtar and flying it into the Rip. That was soundly vetoed.
Actually, there were a lot of things off the table, but it didn't mean they
didn't at one point give each idea presented due consideration. Overall,
their plots and work had brought them All over the world, doing the darndest
things for the love of their homeland. She replied quietly to Tim, "I think
so. We have our fingers in every pie we can in New Thalos. We are doing
many good works, some in direct opposition to the Rip and scars, but others
are just... Nice, to give people better lives, and enjoyment."
Maybe leaving two hundred sun melons in the Sultan's secret crafting space
counted in that category. Brother Tim's attention had already drifted to
the traveler's satchel, which matched his, and like a kender's mind, he now
was wondering if she was one of the druids of Tropica where he got his. As
the winners for the holy water vessel contest were declared, he and the
traveler compared satchels, and how many melons one could fit in one. Rahma
couldn't help but feel a little smug as the Empress declared, "1st place
goes to the man with the watermelon, Timmel." She'd been right, it was the
perfect holy water vessel.
As the Empress joked about letting Brother Tim turn the River of Blood into
a melon farm, Rahma observed with pleasure from her position on the river
bank that regardless of the color of his aura, or official acceptance into
the following of Taliena, Tim had gained the acceptance here by the good
peoples and protectors of the world. He was one of the pilgrims, sort of a
hero, or an idiot savant, hard to say most of the time, but whatever he was,
he was good.
Writer: Rahma
Date Wed Aug 31 16:18:19 2022
To All New_Thalos Kyrlynn ( Xenophon Derigimus Taliena )
Subject Grow your gardens: Turning Taliena 3
The dusty traveler pointed out a melon in Brother Tim's satchel that he'd
missed. He took out an unusual star-shaped melon and admired it. She urged
him to crack it open and give it a try sometime.
Later that eve she and Brother Tim sat in the shade of the acacia trees at
the melon cart in New thalos. The community garden project was in full
swing now, and progress along the banks of the Ishtar evident. He asked her
if she wanted to split the melon.
Ever the curious druid, Rahma examined the melon carefully. She had never
seen anything like it before. Some sort of starmelon. It sort of reminded
her of the festival of stars they had put on in New Thalos to plant the
acorn of Zandreya this year.
Brother Tim seemed keen on eating the melon now, maybe saving a bit for the
Sultan and "Thasberb". She told him to save the seeds. Tim handed the
melon off to Cantalopez, the mighty troll melon farmer they'd brought into
their garden project over a year ago now. Cantalopez expertly sliced the
melon into five symmetrical pieces. The seeds were even spared the process
as skilled with a melon cleaving blade as the troll with his jaunty fez was.
He claimed he'd never seen a melon like that before, either.
The melon's flesh glistened with precious flavor, and Brother Tim took a big
old bite. His eyes went so bug eyed, that for a moment the doctor wondered
if he was choking, but he could speak, "Oh my" he declared, a tear forming
at the corner of his eye, "It's so dang good, holy smokes." With this
testimonial, Rahma took a bite herself, and also found herself wide eyed.
It was delicious beyond words, the texture was luxurious. There was even
some umami which didn't make any sense, but that was okay.
"It's likea party in my mouth an' everythin' that is delicious is invited!"
Tim cheerfully declared.
Then she felt a great warmth inside, and probably some sort of euphoric
effect from the melon, a love for All things. Looking over at Brother Tim,
she saw a melon shaped halo of golden light form over his head.
...and so one pilgrim had earned his golden aura.
Writer: Penelopina
Date Wed Aug 31 18:39:07 2022
To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Marauders Immortals Taliena
Subject Cleaning Up After Chaos! Part Five!
{pThere wasn't anything more she could do.
{pShe sang the sacred hymns, she chimed the silver bell, she doused the
unnatural marks in the holiest waters {pshe could find, and she prayed day and
night, night and day. If there was some holy words or blessed ritual {pto
remove the unholy marks of Chaos, she hadn't found it, and didn't know it.
{pThe soldiers who watched her depart didn't sneer or make snide remarks, but
she could feel their disdain and {pirritation, reading it clear on their
faces, some of whom still bore the marks. The Highlord and the Warlord
weren't even here.
{pBut that just made her All the more grateful for the support from her own
community. Virtually everyone she {pknew who wasn't a Marauder assured her it
wasn't her fault, and that she had done All she could in just {ptrying. She
took comfort in that. Trying was more important than simply doing nothing.
Good intentions.
{pBut for right now, here, there wasn't anything more she could do. Sighing,
Penny picked up her bags and, under {pthe watchful eye of her Sha'falas
escorts, departed Fort Ironclad for what may have been the final time. The
dark storm clouds overhead mirrored her {pmood, but even so, she felt more
guilty that she felt healthier the further she got away from the marks of
the EverWar.
Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Thu Sep 1 01:08:26 2022
Writer: Crelius
Date Thu Sep 1 19:10:30 2022
To All Chaos Necrucifer Malachive ( IMM RP )
Subject The Path to Ruin: Pillars of Fortuity
The vile poignancy of distilled dread corrupted the very air of the
chamber. It blistered hot and cold, roiling with an unseen emotion. Nearly
sentient in its miasma, permeating from a source both within and without.
Tasting and toiling at the hearts and minds of any who dared suffer its
presence. Wild and intangible notes struck silently in the ear of All who
stood before the untree. Its infectious domination pierced the very souls
of the weak. And crept slowly, but ever surely, upon the mettle of the
mighty.
Yet even the profane was not without its duality. Such a stark vision had
never been more clear. The sickly flesh of the corrupted oak, seemed to
recoil in frigid despair from the luminous intrusion. The brilliance seared
upon its threshold in silence, yet the contest of order versus the unruled
could be felt with every breath. The pillar stood, as an abomination within
the abominable, anomalous within the anomaly.
In solitary contemplation the perpetual knight stood. Observing the
aetheric standstill through the vision he commanded through his remaining
eye. His power over the ethereal allowed him to glimpse at the raw exchange
of energies. He saw as they waged their war at an impasse. The fathomless
warp deadlocked with the benevolent light. The will without, striking the
will within. Purity and the impure. Moved by the primordial simplicity of
what he beheld, a sardonic smile broke across his lithic features.
He shifted his gaze upon the source of the illumination. The pillar's
white-fire swirled in a pearly maelstrom, reaching out and withdrawing, as
if uncertain of its foe. Unlike the shadowed halls of Storm, or the
blackened depths of the Ebon Tower. There was no simple darkness to snuff
away. No, this was a place of shifting unreason. A quagmire of corruption
with no absolution. The tree, a physical personification, merely symbolic
of the discordant power behind its veil. Chaos, so it seemed, was not
repelled so easily by this celestial hubris. Doubtless though, it had an
effect.
The lunatic denizens of the central sphere had scattered like roaches
exposed to the sun. Driving them out with frenzy and wildering dismay.
While some returned with maddened fascination. Few withstood the boiling
torrent of etheric dissension for long. And with it, the knight stood
alone.
What might blind the uninitiated, did not deter him. It's press upon him
dampened by the disciplined tolerance of experience. He had once looked
upon the heavenly flame. His soul swept into oblivion by its cleansing
embrace. Leaving behind a will tempered by the scars of its retribution.
The memory was fleeting, doused by the angelic script that marred the
pillars length. A name. Erebaal.
Writer: Crelius
Date Thu Sep 1 19:16:57 2022
To All Chaos Necrucifer Malachive ( IMM RP )
Subject The Path to Ruin: Pillars of Fortuity (continued)
"Take your enemy's eye, and see as they see," the voice rang within him.
What once came to him as a whisper, now spoke as an intimate passenger
within his psyche. It resonated within a withered, atrophied part of his
mind. A forgotten primal remnant, from a time when he hunted prey as if a
falcon soaring on the night's wings. The vibrant pillar and the flesh
tree's presence faded into insignificance. And transposed, he saw the final
vision he beheld that night in the tower, for but an instant. The abhorrent
mask atop the warriors frame, a silhouette of shadow and potency. In its
talons grasping a grimoire bound in flesh. Its living pages open to him
with their promise of the annihilator's secret.
He wavered. His composure jared. The realization of his involuntary
movements snapped him from his momentary torpor. Without control his finger
tips reached at the edge of the shaped iron above his right cheekbone. That
framed the void where his human eye was taken from him. Regaining his
control, he drew a pallid finger across the contoured shape of the metal
plate. Feeling the grooves where rough-hewn symbols were chiseled in linear
rows and columns. Testing that it had not been tampered, the temptation to
peel it away raked at him like a thirst.
Focusing his resolve, he settled his sight upon the stylized script that
profaned the lucent obelisk. Gazing upon the name, he conjured the thought
of his singular purpose. The wages of this war were more deadly and costly
than any violent time within his prolonged existence. The surety of his own
oblivion was paid for the moment he set foot upon this wayward path. To
relent now was inconceivable. He must take what was required. The
grimoire. And to do so, he would let the Everchosen burn.
Writer: Geirhart
Date Fri Sep 2 14:13:16 2022
To Althainia Arkane Knighthood Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Justice Memnoona Rahma Timmel Imm Religion Xenophon ( All )
Subject Raise the Stone : Land Ho!
'Marhaba, Captain! Seems you have slowed this vessel enough for my
stomach to settle. I assume by the noise on deck that we have reached our
destination? ' questioned Baruk.
A slight green tint showed through is dark complexion as the form of the
Thalosian rose from below decks. Clad in studded leather with a white wrap
around him, dreadlocks falling around his face, Barak Oroyo took in the
sights around him. His brown eyes were clear and alert regardless of his
illness. Turning towards the coast line, he saw the beachhead and the
desert inland and knew why the Executor had sent him this way though he
still felt the assignment was beneath his abilities.
THREE DAYS AGO
'Ahlan wa-sahlan, Barak. ' welcomed the Executor as the old priest ushered
him into the office.
'I hope I said that right. If not, I know a physician in Thalos who will
correct me. ' smiled Geirhart.
'Ahlan bik, Executor. ' responded Baruk. 'Quite well, indeed. I think she
will approve. '
Geirhart's smile widened as he took in Baruk and a knowing look passed
between them. What was unsaid was that Baruk was the leader of Justice's
espionage corps. As such, he had studied and learned as much as he could
about this old man. This priest who fought on the Black Moon, helped curb
the return of Necrucifer, former high clerist of Gareth, and few other
lesser known events were just a few items Baruk had learned. So he was well
aware of the man's ties to New Thalos for many reasons and the physician he
was speaking of.
'I need you for a specific task, one that will take you away from the normal
city streets or shadowed corridors of the realm. The area you are going to
will require constant monitor for threats and is in a region of the world
similar to Thalos. I believe you are also well acquainted with travel in
such climes which is sorely needed. ' ended the priest, this time the smile
left his face.
Baruk's jovial attitude also faded as he realized that the man before him
was equally knowledgeable about his own past. For the assassin was not
truly Thalosian but came from one of the outer desert tribes of raiders. A
part of his past he wished to leave behind but seems divine providence or
good resources meant the Executor had learned that aspect of his life.
'You will journey with a team of horsemen and supplies on the Sancrosanct.
Your destination is a ruined city on an isle to the south. Once there, you
will setup camp on the eastern edge to provide a suitable base of operations
for our mission. '
'Sir, with due respect, our enemies are growing by the day. The Horde,
Black Tower, Abaddon, Verminasia, and the like All are gathering resources.
We need to infiltrate them and learn what they know and end those plans in
whatever method is best. Just look at what they did with the pillars! We
can not let this go un met! ' responded Baruk with a coldness few would see
from this normal upbeat man.
'Plans will continue, without your oversight. I am sure there are officers
who can support our work in your stead. This order is final. However, as
things progress, I hope you will see it's necessity. ' stated Geirhart with
a bit of sympathy mixed in.
TODAY
Baruk had assisted in getting the horses and supplies on the small boats to
get ashore. Once there, he mounted Zypher and regarded an old map he had
procured to get him to the ruins. Finding his position from sun and
parchment, he motioned for the scouts and pack animals to follow him.
'I wonder what reception we'll get when we arrive? He muttered to the
horse as the sands began to stir around him.
Writer: Vershae
Date Fri Sep 2 19:57:45 2022
Writer: Vershae
Date Fri Sep 2 20:14:00 2022
Writer: Piknim
Date Sat Sep 3 20:38:08 2022
Writer: Laendyn
Date Sun Sep 4 14:05:02 2022
Writer: Claryse
Date Sun Sep 4 18:21:57 2022
To Abaddon Vershae Imms All
Subject Den of Iniquity 4
Claryse stood in the outer interrogation room of the prison waiting for
Officer Gillian to brought in. Harbinger Vershae is pacing the room and
muttering to himself words she cant quite hear. He didnt want to believe
that their had been anything criminal happening on one of the kingdoms
warships but the evidence was undeniable. She occupied herself by studying
the room for any flaws that would allow the prisoner to escape but was
satisfied there were none.
A struggle could be heard as the door as the guard brought the struggling
prisoner into the room. Fresh bruises marred his face where she had been
forced to subdue him. His once neat uniform always looks rumpled and dirty.
He struggled weakly against the guard who was dragging him into the room all
the while babbling, I didnt do anything wrong. I was just following orders.
In a flash the prisoner was out of the guards hands and up against a wall
with his feet kicking as he dangles by his neck from Vershaes hand. You
will tell me everything, x Vershae growls. Who is in charge of this little
operation? The man stares at Vershae as he bares his fangs and squeaks as
a wet strain slowly grows across the front of his pants and down his leg.
Vershae drops the man in disgust and stares at him as he lays in a puddle of
his own making. Quivering on the floor the officer rushes to say in a voice
hoarse from the grip he had been under, Captain Richland Sir. Captain
Richland ordered the gambling casino set up in quarters. He said it was for
fun but then he started taking 75% of the house earnings as cut. He divided
the rest up between us men who ran the tables. .
Youre telling me that Captain Richland was a part of this? That he was in
charge of this . This theft from the kingdom coffers? Vershae scoffs with
an incredulous look on his face. Captain Richland has been an upstanding
sailor in the kingdoms Navy for years. Youre saying that this man who has
dedicated his life to the betterment of the kingdom is in fact a traitor?
He continues stalking in around the huddled man who was staring at the
Harbinger with pleading eyes.
Claryse took a moment to look at the Harbinger, his face currently inhumane
with his normal Giant Ogre features contorted from the gift with sharp
glistening fangs hanging over his lower lip as he curls his mouth into a
snarl. The man on the floor has gone past fear into stark terror unable to
even speak as he makes unintelligible sounds as he tries to curl into
himself. With a snarl Vershae lifts the man up and bars his fangs before
saying in a thick voice, {the truth now or you will see the real monster
inside me.
Frantically struggling against the hand that holds him, Officer Gillian
screams I aint lying! I swear I aint lying! Check the Captains private
quarters. He keeps All the profit in his personal safe. I swear it Sir
Please. Please dont kill me. The man cries piteously. With a sneer the
Harbinger flings the man back to the ground before nodding to the guard who
had brought him the prisoner. Take him back to his cell. He says as he
turns away from the quivering man already dismissing him as useless.
Turning to Claryse to Harbinger say, Lets go search the Captains quarters.
I find it hard to believe this was happening right under our noses but we
must get to the bottom of it. Perhaps that mans information wont be
worthless. With those final words and a beckoning hand they leave the
prison and head for the warship.
Writer: Symantha
Date Mon Sep 5 23:40:14 2022
Writer: Symantha
Date Mon Sep 5 23:44:27 2022
Writer: Wyltte
Date Tue Sep 6 11:28:14 2022
To All Religion Imm Zisuli Necrucifer Drakkara
Subject Darker Purposes Part One
Wyltte walked slowly through the Temple of Darkness, fingertips brushing
lightly against the massive stone walls as he took in the old memories. It
had been years since he had been to the Dark Kingdom, and very little had
changed. He knew not if that was a good thing yet. As he paced back and
forth, lost in thought, he came across the familiar sight of a large crack
in the stone wall. He stared intently at the space, wincing involuntarily
in pain as he did.
"This was the place" he whispered. The very spot where he was thrown
against the wall against Mencius himself when he found the faith of the
Master. He was laid up for weeks in the hut after that, waiting to heal.
Then he was blessed with his gift, acceptance into the Faith of Necrucifer.
And what has that got him?
It got him a name. Wyltte, the "found" from the old barbarian tribe who
found him at the steps of the temple of Mencius, worked hard to please the
Master and serve Darkness. He poured his heart and soul, and even his eye
at one point, into ensuring His Will and His Way was accomplished. And now
here he was, back within the walls of Verminasia after returning from
Shokono.
And he still did not feel "found". How would he serve now? What was
Verminasia to him? He has family from his adopted Kayen lineage that still
meant the world, and once held the visage of a true love in front of his
face, but as he sat there and stared at the cold stone walls, it made him
take a look at himself.
He had tried to build up the military multiple times, but as regal as
Verminasia is, no one liked to do push-ups, no one liked being screamed at
to do their duty. He misunderstood the fundamental principles of evil; to
do what one wanted when they wanted to do it. To serve while serving
oneself. Verminasia was not the Marauders, they were those who believed in
the power of self without All the grotesque undertones. Wyltte didn't
realize that until now.
Wyltte balls up his fist and strikes the very spot where he slammed into the
hard stone walls, his knuckles splitting with the force of the blow. He
hits it again with more vigor, trickles of crimson running down the dark
granite.
"There has to be more" he says to himself, finally stopping his barrage of
fists against the immovable rock. He turns around with his back to the wall
and slides down it till he was resting on the floor, knees tucked to his
chest. Bits of the blood fell onto the chain-link of his armor. He looked
down and examined himself, decked out in heavy metal links. With a shake of
his head, he reached down with his hands and pulled the chainmail shirt off,
dropping it unceremoniously onto the temple floor. He did the same with his
gloves and overskirt, until All that was left was his cloth breeches and
leather boots. He was tired of songs, tired of trying to be that which he
wasn't. He had always worried about his identity, a seeker of self, but
this... This didn't feel like him.
So no longer a General, no longer a Royal Bodyguard, and who knows if the
ancestral lands of the Kayen line still stood. All he had was a feeling of
needing purpose, a return to the basics of why he came to Verminasia in the
first place.
He needed to serve, but he didn't know what that would be. His cries to the
Dead Master fell upon deaf ears. The Mistress didn't even know his name,
nor did he know if she would even care. Could he live the remainder of his
life not calling on anyone and still serve Darkness? Was that a choice, or
an impossibility? Did it even matter.
Wyltte picked himself up off the floor, his now longer hair falling into his
face as he looked down at the pile of armor he used to embody. It was
almost like he was shedding his skin for whatever was to be next.
Writer: Wyltte
Date Tue Sep 6 12:10:28 2022
To All Necrucifer Drakkara Religion Verminasia Shadow Zisuli
Subject Darker Purposes Part Two
Wyltte sat at a lone table in the corner of the Skull & Crossbones pub,
arms across his chest as he leaned slightly back in his chair and took in
the sights. Drunkeness, debauchery, hedonism, All the pleasures of the
flesh displayed in All its glory in front of him, and yet it did not feel
comforting. Darkness has always been about self, about power, but he felt
it was never about some unstructured free-for-all to live a chaotic and
haphazard life. There needed to be purpose.
As he lifted his heels and rocked back on the hind legs of the chair, he
thought about what he had lost in his own pursuits, and his own ineptitude
to keep moving forward when the Master was struck down. It was a defining
moment, and one he realized for All its gravitas, he failed at. He chose
exile and isolation over change and acceptance. His pride and stubborness
caused him, well, quite frankly everything.
Out of the corner of his eye, Wyltte spied a young serving girl, no older
than 14 summers old staring at him from behind the bar counter. No doubt
the child of one of the workers here brought in to try and make ends meet.
For All of Verminasia's glory, there are places which few dare to tread,
where food was a scarcity.
Wyltte nodded his heads towards the young miss and made a motion for her to
approach. She came slowly, shy features and hands held out in front of her.
"Why do you stare, young one?" Wyltte asked in his customary low-toned
manner. The girl looked meekly up at him, staring at his right eye where
his faded scar could still be seen in the dim candlelight.
"Well Sir, you... You looked like someone... Someone my Ma once told me
about. He lived here, you see.... Long ago, and he... He had no eye..
And he was very known... And..." Wyltte held up his hand to stop her,
though not in a rude manner.
"Ahhh yes. Well, let me tell you of the one your Mother talked about."
Wyltte leaned back again, this time his back hitting the wall as the chair
legs remained balanced, his large frame suspended in space. Wyltte closed
his eyes for a moment as he recalled his exploits under slow, measured
breaths. Once he was composed he leaned forward, the chair with All four
legs on the floor now as he looked to the young serving girl.
"He failed. That is what to know about him. This legend, this known story,
he failed. Failed at everything he did actually. All of it". Wyltte took
a moment before continuing. "He had dreams, ambitions, titles, land,
temples, even love.... And All of it just dust now."
Wyltte blinked once as he watched the young girl's expression, both
bewilderment and a touch of disappointment on her countenance. "It goes to
show, things fall apart. Things we cannot control. Once you learn this,
all names of All legends are just works spoken aloud, and nothing more."
Wyltte stood from his table, placing a handful of coins down on the board as
he headed for the door. He took a shiny blue diamond from his satchel and
placed it into the young girl's hands as he headed out the door.
Writer: Wyltte
Date Tue Sep 6 14:17:20 2022
To All Verminasia Religion Imm Drakkara Necrucifer Zisuli
Subject Darker Purposes Part Three
Wyltte spent the next few hours after leaving the pub walking with his
niece. She took him on a tour of Drakkara's throne where the trials were
held, the sky ripped apart and pierced by lightning. If it wasn't for the
fact he hovered over the desert kingdom that he had always considered just a
giant Leonine litter box, he would have been perfectly comfortable. The
Dark Mistress, Drakkara herself established her dominance and concreted her
position as the leader of the pantheon. Wyltte knew that change was not the
enemy: apathy was. Still, it was an internal struggle for him to accept the
changes that were made. One he didn't know he could.
Upon returning home to Verminasia, he found his feet trodding the familiar
path eastward to the Dark Temple. Upon entrance to the very steps where he
was found so long ago, the dark robed statue of the Master stood in All its
dark glory. How many hours, days, weeks even did he spend on his knees in
prayer, contemplation, and outpouring for the dark servants of this world?
It was time innumerable, although given his mortality, one day said time
will easily be quantified. He was merely a single grain in the hourglass
held by the Dark Gods.
Wyltte went to the front row and settled down into it, leaning his large
frame against the splintered wood. The pews were kept deliberately course
to keep others from being too comfortable, as well as reminding others how
much pain is a poignant teacher. He sat what felt like hours, shifting
uncomfortably in the seat over and over again until he finally fell forward,
knees crashing into the hard floor. He remained splayed out in front of the
statue, pounding his fist over and over again in agitation and anguish. He
felt so utterly conflicted, lost, and devastated by emerging back into a
world that seemingly forgot what he worked so hard to fight for no longer
exists.
Wyltte looked up at the statue, his normally clear stormy grey eyes
bloodshot and worn, the eyes misty with his anguish. "I don't know what to
do anymore, Master. I don't know what I am here for. I had purpose, I had
clarity... I had you and the Darkness."
Wyltte leans back, arms prostrated at his side as he stood their kneeling.
"Where do I go from here?"
Wyltte heard a faint the noise, almost as a faint echo coming from the back
of the temple. Instinctively he reached to his side for his basilisk fang,
but he forgot he left it within the city. So distracted he was in his
self-loathing and pity that he left his guard down. All he could do now is
prepare for what was to come.
Writer: Wyltte
Date Tue Sep 6 15:30:19 2022
To All Religion Necrucifer Drakkara Immortal Imm Zisuli Telthian Nimiane Piknim
Subject Darker Purposes Part Four
Wyltte turned towards the echoing voice coming from the south. As he
walked through the temple shrine to Drakkara, the noise went quiet. Wyltte
could hear his own heartbeat within his breast, the slow rythmic thump that
is always counting down to a final silence. The impressive statue of
alabaster looking up into the ceiling was artfully created, although I doubt
the artists had the experience to see his subject with their own eyes. The
statue's gaze upwards into the ceiling, met with the visage of Necrucifer
extending his hand downward to his widowed bride screamed of irony. The
artist must have been in love with a Talienian.
Wyltte paced around the temple room, looking at the many tomes stuffed on
the darkwood shelves. Hundreds of years with of ancient, and some forbidden
knowledge scrawled on pages. A few of the books look to be bound in leather
journals, the texture of which was highly suspect. The hubris of mages and
their divinations always perplexed Wyltte. He didn't solve every problem
with his fist, but he certainly didn't seek every answer within the pages of
a book. Still though, the smell of ancient paper and feel of old books in
his hands brought back many memories. Within his own satchel, he fiddled
with the very scroll used in his wedding, the crisp oily parchment still
felt new to the touch. He preserved it the best he can. It may be the only
physical memory he had left outside the band around his finger.
Wyltte laid down on the cold floor and looked up at the statue and painting
together, their images searing into his mind through tired eyes. He never
quite understood the dichotomy of the two, even as a priest. He used to
preach unity, but what does that even mean? When so many of his old
soldiers looked to eat each other alive for another title or favor.
If he was to be able to get out of his head, he would have to learn more,
no, be more. He needed to understand, because now he was flailing around in
the dark, nearly quite literally with the soft light of the candle's temples
nearing the end of their wicks. Wyltte picked himself up and walked over to
the bookshelf. He found an old, well-used quill and a bit of ink that had
not dried in the well. Tearing a page out of a book someone must have
misplaced on the shelf, "Leonine Felars and why people love them", Wyltte
inked a missive to the one man who may be able to help him get out of his
own head. His dear friend, Piknim and Duchess Nimiane, his niece had both
pointed him in Dark Lord Telthian Schwartz's direction. Perhaps it was time
to seek what he has been unable to find since he has awakened: answers.
Wyltte finished up his missive, tightly rolling it up and sealing it with a
bit of melted wax. He kept a signet ring with the Kayen Crest on it,
sealing the parchment. With a sharp whistle, the carrier raven came to
whisk the missive away.
Now the wait, though he has already let the world pass by him, so how hard
could it be?
Wyltte took one final look at the statue before heading out of the temple
and into the vast dark forest surrounding it.
Writer: Wyltte
Date Wed Sep 7 12:42:45 2022
To All Necrucifer Drakkara Cayenna Imm Immortal Religion Zisuli Scorn Telthian Symantha
Subject Darker Purposes Part Five
Wyltte walked quietly within the Grove of Penumbra, the space he
dedicated to Necrucifer, ironically dedicated right after passing to the
ether. Dedicated to All his followers, it was Wyltte's last true act as one
of his Bishops. Just northwest from the western gate of Arkane, it was a
place of reflection, a celebration of both the natural world and the
darkness that resides within it. As he stared at the tree trunks within the
grove, each with their own dedication to the dark gods and goddess, he was
overcome with a tidal wave of questions.
"What was he to do now? How would he serve? Who would he serve? Would
service to the Dark Mistress betray the Kayen name he held in honor? What
role would he play in this life? Would those he loved ever come back, or
are they too lost? Did he even deserve them anymore?"
He had reached out to the Abbess of the Mistress and the High Priest of the
Master in hopes of finding answers, but he also knew what the most likely
reply would be; it was something he often answered himself.
His life was his own. His choices his own. His service depends on what
work he puts into it, as does his role in this world.
He knew it was All on him, and no one would take the first step for him.
But as a man of purpose, he also knew that he was always guided by a goal.
A charge, or a crusade, or a task, or a duty, or a calling. There was
always a driving force. And as much as looking forward to an infinite night
seemed like the goal, it was at such a grand scale it didn't even register
to him to use that as his motivation. He needed something for himself, so
that he may no longer be lost in the maze of his own mind.
Wyltte moved further through the grove, coming to stand of the Chasm of
Isolation. As he stood over the old stone bridge staring down into the
precipice, no new questions nor new answers formed. It was an emptiness, as
much contemplation as it was resignation, as much failure as it was success.
He had infinite choices, infinite possibilities, but All he could do was
pray. He squatted down for a moment and dangled his feet over the bridge
edge, the side rails long rotted away. He stared for what felt like an
eternity into the chasm below.
With a sigh, Wyltte lifted his head to the heavens as he had always does,
this side unsure of where his words would be carried to.
"Dark Mistress, you who have split the sky, claimed the mantle of Darkness,
and held together the black moon with your power and purpose, what is it
that you need of me?" He prayed. The words barely escaped his lips with
the knot in his throat strangling his voice, but not his will.
"I will never forget my service to the Master, I stand steadfast to my
committment to Darkness, but I know that life for me cannot be lived without
purpose. What is that purpose? What do you seek from those who life their
voices in prayer?
Wyltte swallowed hard as he continued. "What does this world need? What
can I do? Does my voice even pierce the air to reach the black moon
anymore?"
With the last of his words, Wyltte stood up carefully, a violent gust of
wind rushing over him, nearly knocking him into the great yawning chasm. He
took himself carefully over to the old stone bench and wrapped himself up in
the soft fur cloak he killed a villager for outside of Verminasia.
It was here he would seek answers, for if there were any place in Algoron
which may have them, it would be found in the place built and dedicated from
his own hands; perhaps his one and only non-failure.
Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Sep 7 16:48:04 2022
Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Sep 7 21:54:58 2022
To All Verminasia Shadow Lavinah Rhylgar ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject Where Ravens Dare (I)
The last light of the summer sun beat down upon Verminasia's southern
battlements as the season turned.
High overhead the lucent threads of the Aurora shone a stark and blinding
light upon the thick forest below. Rays of light pierced the once shadowy
embrace of the canopy, scouring even the darkest recesses of Verminasia's
dense woodland. What first appeared a trick of the light had become clear
as troops cleared trees and heavy infantrymen erected a perimeter around the
Aurora. The trees and undergrowth had been bleached subtle shades of
pristine alabaster, transformed by the blazing phenomenon and pillars that
moored it.
The ivory opinicus, which had appeared in great numbers when the Aurora
manifested, were a damnable nuisance. An unusual sight to be certain, the
gryphon-like creatures combined the features of avian and mammal. They had
feathered wings, a furred feline body, and the head of a bird of prey, with
eyes that belied a guarded intelligence. Such creatures likely served the
Light as scouts and saboteurs. In recent days, they'd served the Darkness
as target practice and handy roast for the spit at many a soldier's post.
Rhylgar Shadowfang tore into the roasted carcass of an opinicus as he
observed his battalion's deployment through ravenous red eyes from atop the
southern ramparts. Piknim Cracklespark, the resident kender, skulked at his
side. The Black Wolf had been entrusted with command of an entire battalion
for the purpose of clearing trees to divert trade, patrolling the southern
road to Arkane, securing a perimeter around the Aurora, and reinforcing the
city battlements. Such tasks were heavy with the weight of responsibility
for tens of thousands of souls, but the orc had especially broad shoulders
with which to bear it and a ruthless instinct for battle tactics.
Artillery crews worked to assemble cannons upon sturdy wooden platforms at
regular intervals and stage ordnance nearby. Light infantrymen with bows
were clustered at intervals as well, a rack of polearms placed within reach.
Intervals were important. If the troops were too bunched up, an ancient
gold wyrm with a flair for dramatic entrances and righteous retribution
could very well immolate an entire squad with one strafe of his fiery
breath. If the sharpshooters and artillery pieces were spread out too far,
however, they would no longer be capable of firing for effect or defending
themselves from an aerial attack.
"If the forces of Light are born on wings as well, angels and the like, we
must be prepared to protect our artillery. Our sharpshooters will pick them
off one by one if the assault is piecemeal," Rhylgar explained to the
wide-eyed, curious kenderkin. He passed her the opinicus carcass and picked
up a nearby polearm. "The bill has a hook for pulling in fliers." He
jabbed with the hook to demonstrate, as if to snag a hapless enemy and yank
them in, before spinning the weapon around and slicing diagonally with the
blade. Piknim nodded enthusiastically at the bloody mess in her mind's eye
and ripped at the roast with her teeth.
Fun fact. Ivory opinicus taste like chicken.
Writer: Piknim
Date Wed Sep 7 22:00:06 2022
To All Verminasia Shadow Lavinah Rhylgar ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna )
Subject Where Ravens Dare (2)
"If they charge the battlements en masse, on the other hand.."
"Ah hah!" Piknim interrupted, her mouth crammed full of the new white meat,
"That's another thing these fellas can do!" She tossed the opinicus carcass
back to Rhylgar and vaulted onto a cannon, straddling the enormous barrel
and slapping its iron sides with both hands. "They get a load of grapeshot
to the face! Ska-boom! It'll be a massacre!"
The orc gave Piknim a signature tusky grin before sweeping his gaze eastward
along the wooded path to the Siege. As detailed by the industrious kender
in a prior report, Sir Agapitos di Lucis of Knighthood had visited Castle
Ravencrest on a secret assignment in months past. The gilded knight's true
purpose there remained a mystery, but the very discovery of his mission made
the threat of a sortie from Ravencrest's forces a matter worthy of concern.
"Ravencrest. You think it possible they would risk destruction to split
their forces, Darkfinder?"
"Uh huh! Possible. Maybe not probable. I don't know! But I do know
someone who might know All the things they don't want us to know. He's in
the dungeon! Probably getting lonely by now, too. I'm gonna go pay him a
visit! Good luck with the war-making, orc-friend! Darkness keep you!"
Piknim hopped down from the cannon, plucked a piece of meat from the
opinicus carcass in Rhylgar's hands, wiped her own little hands upon the
cloak of a passing soldier, and vanished into the hustle and bustle of the
crowded battlements.
Rhylgar watched the kender depart with a chuckle before checking his
pockets. Nothing missing. A smirk curled at his tusks. If that sort of
luck held, so too might the will of Verminasia's soldiers and the walls of
the dark city. He hailed a courier and pointed to the perimeter below,
which encircled the Aurora like a thick ring of black steel.
"Find Captains Gingivere and Willett. They are to reinforce the perimeter's
right flank with heavy infantry and deploy another troop of cavalry to
patrol the eastern avenue of approach. Go."
Writer: Geirhart
Date Thu Sep 8 12:55:13 2022
To Althainia Arkane Knighthood Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Justice Memnoona Rahma Timmel Imm Religion Xenophon ( All )
Subject Raise the Stone : The Ruins PT1
The sun beat down upon the caravan of Wrath soldiers with unrelenting
heat. The complaints of sand in certain areas where it should not be had
just begun though they were few as Baruk had outfitted his soldiers
appropriately for desert travel. A line of white linen draped soldiers and
sleek horses winded back behind him into the dunes. Camels instead of carts
had been procured for a high sum just for this mission. They would be
greatly needed for bringing supplies back and forth from the coast into the
desert.
'Al'ama, where are these ruins?! We should be close. ' he exclaimed.
Shielding his eyes, he tried to make something out through the mirage of hot
air. Spying something, he called upon the scouts to join him towards a
outcrop of stone. Turning Zypher into a gallop, he and three rangers rode
towards the rocks and he was releaved to see the formations were actually
worked stone of a ruined outer wall.
'Meerus, head back to the caravan and bring them here but stay on the
outskirts until we have ensured the location is safe. '
Meerus saluted and headed back, believing saying less meant less sand in his
mouth.
'Alright, you two form on me. Leave the horses here, the rest of this we
journey on foot. I believe there may be grells hidden around here so our
mission is to work around them, find their locations, and clear them when
the rest of the troop has gathered at the wall. ' ordered Baruk as the two
rangers nodded and formed on either flank of the assassin.
Pulling out his two short swords, Baruk dipped low into a familiar stride as
he went over the wall. His body took on the posture of the stalking
predator for stealth was needed. Eyes surveyed each shadowed alley and
doorway, this mission had no prey yet his hands clenched the handles of his
blades tightly. At each intersection, the three would stop and look down
each road to ensure they would not be spotted.
Areth-va was not large by city standards. Rubble and foundations of
buildings layed out before them, some multi storied. The stone walls had
withstood decades of sandstorms yet not without injury. Piles of sand
spilled out from doorways and small dunes formed against the walls and in
the alley ways. Old wood, like skeletal bones, dangled from windows and
doors like arms and teeth. It took the trio thirty minutes walking slowly
to get to the main fountain, dried out and covered in rolling weeds. A
magnificent statue had been placed on a dias but now it lied fallen and
broken. The appendages were missing as well as a head, All that could be
gleaned was that this was some sort of armored figure. Perhaps it once
stood with sword raised to the heavens in defian stood with sword raised to
the heavens in defiance yet time had won the last battle. Baruk had slain
enough powerful figures to know that fortune is fickel, especially to the
over confident.
A shadow moved to his left from the south east. Croutching along an old
shop wall, a sign with a loaf of bread painted upon it creaked in the wind
almost giving away his position. He glanced around the corner and spied the
beast floating in the alley. It was large, bulbous, with writhing
tentacles. A beak of some sort formed the mouth and parts of its head
pulsed as it floated over the ground. It was a fleshy green and had no
eyes. Each writhing tentacle ended in barbs. Nodding to his allies, he
motioned for them to join him. The grell was on the main eastern path from
the fountain, in his way to what would become their base camp. It seems his
blades would see action today.
Writer: Deteryd
Date Thu Sep 8 17:05:46 2022
To All Marauders Fort_Ironclad Shalonesti_Kingdom Scorn Religion Rp Admin Imm
Subject Enflaming the Glyphs: A Wish to Deliver Horror (1)
Deteryd departed from his gardens and down the crude steps into the Warp's
gathering hall. The Chaos lord traced his fingertips along the railing and
admired the mural of the Liberator-God Malachive freeing the orcs painted on
the walls. The hall was quiet today except for the presence of a few guards
of orc descent geared in crude hammered irons. The elf dismissed them with a
wave of his hand and glided across the gathering hall to stand in front of
the horned tree of Malachive.
He spoke to the tree, and to himself: "It is time for Algoron to remember
that we do not sleep- we wait. Malachive, my lord..." The Chaos lord lifted
his right hand and removed its leather glove revealing a wicked unhealing
wound on his palm glistening with the red of blood and the black of something
profane. With a clenched fist, Deteryd dripped his life's ink onto the floor.
He knelt by the stains and began tracing a strange shape into the stone with
his sanguine fingertips.
"My blood is the Everchosen's -- the Everchosen's is in mine. Redeemer, accept
my blood and mana. Enflame the glyphs. Stir them. Make Algoron suffer sweetly
and drift into my perfect vision of order." The elf completed tracing the
bloody mark of the Everwar into the stone floor and stood up.
Writer: Deteryd
Date Thu Sep 8 17:06:54 2022
To All Marauders Fort_Ironclad Shalonesti_Kingdom Scorn Religion Rp Admin Imm
Subject Inflaming the Glyphs: A Wish to Deliver Horror (2)
Deteryd completed his... prayer? His desire? No. His wish. The machinations
of the saplings and the glyphs were not of the ranger's designs, but he shared
an innate desire to test the realm's tolerances on behalf of the Everchosen.
While the elf had his own plans for Algoron, he was compelled to put a piece
of himself in Chaos's lingering presence of Fort Ironclad. As if in response
to the offering, the bloody mark began to seep through the stone- sucked from
the surface and into the roots of the tree. The quiet groan of wood shifting
echoed through the chamber.
"My gift to the Marked, to the vessels, to the streets and citizens of Fort
Ironclad will be visions of an idyllic tomorrow. Of pain. Madness. Of horror.
Enough to cow this realm into the peace and order it deserves."
Writer: Wyltte
Date Thu Sep 8 20:58:57 2022
To All Zisuli Necrucifer Drakkara Shadow Immortal Religion Cayenna
Subject Darker Purposes Part Six
Wyltte stood his ground in the middle of the battlefield, bodies strewn
everywhere from the constant war that waged between the Dark Order and
Castle Ravencrest. The screaming, bloody cries of vengeance and pain, along
with the constant hail of arrows and clashing of steel filled his mind,
silencing any doubt, and worry, and All other senses. There was just the
fight. He had been in Shokono so long, spending his long, tireless nights
mostly strolling upon the quiet beach strand, where the chaos of battle was
nowhere to be found. It was peaceful, but that wasn't a good thing.
Wyltte had always been a man of action. In fact, he had attempted during
his time to revive Verminasia's military a few times, each with moderate
success. Soldiers would come, work hard, strive to attain rank and power,
and then fade into obscurity. He quickly realized what they wanted wasn't
duty, wasn't purpose, and wasn't badges and responsibility. They just
wanted power and accolades, a truly hedonistic goal.
Was that wrong? No. Evil has always been about choice. Wyltte was a man
of purpose, often giving of himself far more than he should have of times.
But he was also a man of battle, and that was something Shokono could not
give him. Something he craved, no.... Something he needed.
As he stood in the middle of the fray, Paladin's attacking the Knights, the
dogs of war tearing at the corpses with fresh aplomb, Wyltte started to feel
that burning rage within that had been born of his time with the barbarian
tribes of Mencius. The battle lust, the hunger for the fight which could
only be satiated with crimson waters flowed.
Wyltte looked at the blade at his side, and throw it down on the ground with
the rest of the fallen weapons. This wasn't about tactical advantage; this
was personal. This was the rage of years of solitude, of loss, of the
unknown bubbling from deep within his soul. This was the war within raging.
A sorceress made the unfortunate mistake of floating up to him, perhaps
mistaking his armor for one of their own in the battle confusion. Wyltte's
fist balled up in rage, and gave a mighty round house swing. His massive
fist connected with her temple, sending the sorceress sprawling and knocking
her senseless. A paladin from nearby saw the attack and charged Wyltte,
eager to avenge such a mighty blow, but Wyltte turned around and started
wailing on him, each massive strike with his fists bending the metal of his
armor, trapping him inside his own protective cage as Wyltte rained down his
fury of his lost years.
As he continued, more and more of Castle Ravencrest joined the fray, each
thinking they were going to be the rescuer of their comrades at arms, and
each failing miserably as they fell at his feet. This continued on for time
infitum, until All that was left at Wyltte's feet was the unrecognizable
mass of twisted visages, the carrion birds already feasting on their prize.
That battle fury sparked something in Wyltte's soul that he could not let
die, a slow flame that became the forge of fury he had long forgotten. As
the sun slowly disappeared in the west, Wyltte walked from the battlefield
with a darker purpose in his soul, and even darker intentions for the world
before him.
Writer: Wyltte
Date Fri Sep 9 08:59:27 2022
To All Immortal Religion Necrucifer Zisuli Drakkara Cayenna Verminasia Shadow
Subject Darker Purposes Part Seven
Wyltte sat at the heavy oak table, his massive right hand gripping a
large Norse drinking horn full of honey mead. In front of him sat a
steaming plat full of savory roasted elk meat with flame grilled tomatoes,
small wisps of the piping hot and fragrant meat wafting in the air. The
food remained untouched, albeit the horn was not so lucky. This was his
third horn this afternoon, and he continued taking long pulls from the sweet
elixir as his left thumb spun his wedding ring around idly.
Wyltte's father, the little of what he knew of him, came from Viking
lineage. Perhaps that was why Wyltte was freakishly massive for a human,
and why he felt so comfortable in the cold. His mother was Arkanian, but
they were both killed in a bandit raid long ago. Only he, and presumably
his sister survived, though he had never been able to find any proof of here
whereabouts.
Grinhilda walked down the longhouse board, filling many a patron's horns
from a earthware pitcher. Quite the few cat calls were made as she strutted
by... And as a consequence, quite a few teeth were lost when they realized
Viking women can handle themselves in a fight. Wyltte finally decided to
take a bite of the food in front of him, cutting a large chunk of the elk
and popping it into his mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, his thoughts drifted
back to before he left for Shokono, and before the Battle of the Black Moon.
He had not been long married to Zisuli Ra'tari, the elven lass that over a
long courtship he was enamored with, when it All fell apart. He still kept
their wedding invitation as a keepsake, locked safely in his vault. Their
ceremony in Necrucifer's Ice Cathedral was All he could ever hope for. He
was not a sentimental man most days, but he felt the pang of loss now.
Despite the intensive flavor of the game, he quickly lost his appetite and
pushed the plate from him, instead settling for another long pull from the
horn.
She was of the Dark Mistress, the very Goddess Wyltte now come to understand
her true importance. As an elf, she saw time differently than he did. His
days were numbered, while in many ways, hers had just begun. Since
awakening, he has heard no tale of her whereabouts, or seen signs of her
path. Not even so much as a rumor. Part of him was afraid to ask, much
like the famed tinkergnome cat experiment, Fezziwig's Cat.
A cat in a box with a deadly vial of poison which could break at any moment
was in two states at once: alive and dead. There is little likelihood that
cat would not knock over the poison, therefore you may assume it had died.
But cats are tricky creatures, and perhaps it sense something was wrong,
therefore the cat is also alive. It is only be opening the box and peering
inside you would know the truth of Fezziwig's Cat.
So was it better to know and confirm the death, or keep the hope alive that
everything is alright despite the danger? It was the same to him.
It was Wyltte's inability to handle what occurred that sent him off to
Shokono in the first place, so he bore in his heart the shame and unbearable
guilt of one who broke a promise. He know that was only part of the reality
though. Had he stayed, it would have torn him asunder. He was in his own
Fezziwig style box in a way.
Both alive, and dead.
And due to his actions, there was no one to come forward and look down
inside. That is something he knew he had to deal with, a side effect of his
life choices.
Wyltte slapped a few coins down on the table to pay Grinhilda and somewhat
stumbled out into the freezing night air.
Writer: Andreyna
Date Fri Sep 9 11:46:48 2022
To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Arkane Justice Geirhart Zandreya Imm Rp Religion Xenophon Cayenna
Subject Sun Stone: One Step at a Time
Andreyna sat within her temple as she often did when her mind was
troubled. She watered the flowers, went over the plans for the additions to
the temple with the druids, and tended to the soil.
The Cardinal of Austinian had mentioned the Sun Stone to her. She still had
much to learn of it, but it seemed to be some sort of crystal that would
spread Light and Good across the realm, rather than destroy the Darkness as
the pillars were trying to do. Several of the Light and many of the Vallens
had met at the Blood River, hoping to heal the lands of the blights that
scarred the world. It did not seem as though they would be able to at this
time, but perhaps the Darkness and the Evil could be countered with the Sun
Stone instead.
Andreyna had agreed to help with what she could. She would do so with
caution. She did not see any harm in spreading Light across the realm.
Afterall, those of the Darkness were spreading their own Evil with the
blights and certainly the Rip within the sky. She did need to be careful.
The pillars had tried to destroy the Darkness. This could not happen.
Geirhart had set out to survey the land he wished to raise the Sun Stone
upon. The Arkanians were tasked with studying the Crystal Fields in order
to further understand how they had come to grow within the soil. Was it
magic, nature, or a bit of both? The Bishop would send druids to aid the
Arkanians. Certainly there was nothing wrong with that? Certainly she
would not aid in tipping the Balance with helping them to study the fields.
One step at at time. She would take it slowly. Geirhart would understand.
Writer: Andreyna
Date Fri Sep 9 12:18:57 2022
To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Penelopina Deteryd Marauders Chaos Zandreya Raije Malachive Xenophon Cayenna Imm Rp Religion
Subject Enflaming the Glyphs: Horror has Awoken
The Queen-Priest stood within her garden temple speaking with the druids
about the many tasks ahead of them. A handful would go to aid the Arkanians
in studying the Crystal Fields, while others were set to helping her in
expanding her temple. It had taken some time, but Andreyna had the druids
had finally come up with a plan for the additions.
The elfqueen turned quickly as a sudden commotion came from behind her. A
Defender of the Sha'falas stood before her, breathless, a look of concern
upon his face, 'Majesty, this came for you urgently. It is from the General
stationed at the Fort. ' Andreyna took the tightly bound scroll from the
Sha'falas Defender and gave him a reassuring smile. 'I am sure everything
is fine', she spoke gently to the elf, but from the look upon his face, she
could tell that it was not.
Andreyna carefully opened the parchment, her eyes scanning over it quickly.
Her hands began to tremble as she read, everything was not fine. Scouts
surveyed the Warp's Fort each night, looking for any sign of weakness,
learning the routines of the Marauder soldiers, and searching for any signs
of changes. Normally, nothing was out of the ordinary. The Fort showed no
sign of preparation in defending itself against the Shalonesti and
Althainian army. Penny would come time to time to attempt to cleanse the
scriptures of the Warp from its walls. Storms continued to batter the Fort,
but suprisingly, it still stood.
'Upon the scouts survey last evening', the General wrote, 'a glow came
within the walls of the Fort. They could hear a low humming sound, a
vibration, barely audible to their elven ears. ' Andreyna continued to
read, her breathing quickening with each line. 'The scouts stated they
could feel a presence, an evil they had felt before, only once before, when
the blood tree cursed the Mother's Vallens. ' Andreyna could feel her chest
tightening as panic rose in her throat. 'Majesty, we believe that someone
or something is trying to empower the glyphs. '
The parchment fell to the floor of the temple, the priestess unable to
control her trembling any longer. 'Where is Penny?! ' She asked to anyone
who would answer her. 'She is within the Groves, Majesty', the Sha'falas
Defender replied. Andreyna nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. 'It seems
the Warp has awoken. They are attempting to secure their hold on the Fort,
' she spoke as she exhaled slowly. 'We've beaten them before. We can and
will do it again. '
Writer: Piknim
Date Fri Sep 9 17:36:13 2022
To All Verminasia Shadow Lavinah Agapitos ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject Where Ravens Dare (III)
Verminasia's palace dungeons, particularly the torture chambers, were not
a happy place despite the presence of a kender that day.
The dark stone walls were green with damp, while the same blocks that made
up the floor had taken on the appearance of mosaics, painted with blood,
tears, dirt, and far fouler hues. Torchlight flickered in iron sconces,
smothering every nook and cranny in oppressive darkness and oily smoke.
Cool, fetid air hung heavy with odors of despair, death, and decay.
Iron-grated vents fed a sinister symphony to the dungeon proper for captive
ears to savor: chains rattling, leather slapping, bones crunching, screams
breaking, and gears creaking in the guts of malevolent machinery.
The torture chamber itself resembled a macabre carnival. The large devices
that lined the perimeter bore names for which one might pay a ticket to
ride: the brazen bull, the led sprinkler, the wooden horse, the iron maiden,
the breaking wheel.
A human clad in nothing more than ragged leggings remained upon his knees in
the center of the room, arms spread akimbo by iron shackles at the wrist
attached to chains affixed to the walls. His emaciated form stank from the
festering of open wounds and utter neglect, pallid skin glistening with
blood and perspiration. A charm in the shape of a black iron arrow hung
from a thin chain about his neck, the only keepsake left to him.
Shoulder-length hair of sable-black hung limply before his eyes, heavy with
oil and grime.
The man stirred from a deep stupor as the cruel whimsy of a high-pitched
sing-song voice echoed from the entryway, growing louder and louder as its
owner descended the stairs.
* uwee * hee * hee *
Gags and rope and you're runnin' outta hope.
Acid vats, hangry rats, whole lotta nope!
Thumb-tacks, no snacks, sucks to be you.
Whip-cracks, flayed backs, boo hoo hoo!
Vice grips, wax drips, you're in for it now.
Pressure points, popped joints, ow ow oww!
Birch rods, cattle prods, whatcha gonna do?
Shackles and stocks and electro-shocks too!
Tramp chairs, choke pears, why not surrender?
Pins and needles and a harmless little kender!
Whips and chains and a night full of pain.
Tell me what you know or we do it All again!
* uwee * hee * hee *
Piknim Cracklespark popped her topknotted head around the corner of the
entryway with an Cheshire cat grin. "Hi ho, dearie! Guess who brought
treats," she exclaimed, bounding through the threshold with a square pizza
box clutched in her arm and a frosty glass topped with whipped cream and a
cherry in one hand. "Surprise! It's the Zarina Creamsplosion Milkshake and
a Scrumptious Pizza Super Deluxe from Grayclaw's Scrumptious Delights in
Arkane!"
Valmont struggled to focus his gaze. His visitor appeared more diablerie
than kender through bleary, bloodshot eyes, her grin distorted by the shroud
of dim torchlight and mental debilitation. She laid the pizza box atop a
wooden table alongside a leather mat lined with hand-held instruments of
torture and crossed the room to offer him a sip of milkshake from the curly
red straw. Valmont turned his head weakly in rejection of the offer, much
to her chagrin.
"Awwwh. C'mon! I didn't put anything bad in it. Look! See?"
Piknim took a loud slurp from the straw, smacked her lips, and presented the
milkshake once more. Her grin widened as Valmont's cracked lips accepted
the proffered straw, gulping blended ice cream drizzled with chocolate and
caramel in long, desperate pulls.
"Oho! There, there, dearie. That's enough for now. Don't give yourself
brain freeze or a tummy ache!"
Writer: Piknim
Date Fri Sep 9 17:49:11 2022
To All Verminasia Shadow Lavinah Agapitos ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject Where Ravens Dare (IV)
Piknim set the milkshake on the dirty floor, turned to open the pizza
box, and lifted a slice to her lips, only to halt abruptly. Her expression
drooped into the intractable pout of a sad kender before scrunching into one
of outrage. "What the heck!? They did it again! They messed up my order!
Grayclaw's, you.. you.. you suck! I hate you!" the Darkfinder screeched,
flipping the pizza box off the bench and sending its contents splattering
across the chamber. She glared at the offending slice in her hand, then at
Valmont, then back to the slice, seething at length before pointing a tiny
finger at the hapless human.
"This is NOT your fault! Don't fret, dearie. Not gonna take this out on
you! No sir! Do you like firestorm hot peppers?"
Piknim stuffed the much-too-spicy pizza slice into Valmont's mouth, gagging
any hope of a reply, and retrieved a folder from the table. She paced back
and forth before him, reading aloud from the file contained within.
"So, it says here that you were a cavalryman at Castle Ravencrest for
twenty-something years. My, my! Never quite had what it took to be a
paladin. Lame. Your special someone died right in front of you. Blah,
blah, blah. You offered to spy for the Dark One on behalf of King Marcaus
Madaur. Bluh, bluh. Oh, here's the important part," she stated, pausing
for effect.
"Not long ago, Sir Agapitos di Lucis of Knighthood came to Ravencrest on a
secret mission. Three of our spies and one assassin were captured and
executed shortly after. Agapitos left a week later. You deserted the very
same day. A Verminasian patrol found you and brought you home. How
curious."
Valmont groaned helplessly in response, a firestorm burning unto the depths
of his gullet until drool seeped around the slice of pizza and dripped onto
the floor. The kender rapped the folder atop his head scoldingly.
"The penalty for desertion is execution by guillotine. What were you
thinking, dum-dum? Couldn't make up your mind which side you wanted to be
on, huh? Are you starting to figure it out?"
She tossed the folder onto the table and turned to face Valmont once more.
"You know, they were gonna torture you to death when you wouldn't talk. I
said woah, hold on, let's not be too hasty! Let me borrow the poor fellow
for a while! Let me work my magic."
The Darkfinder crouched before Valmont, forcing him to look her in the eyes.
She toyed with the tip of the milkshake straw with a tiny finger as the
puddle of drool around it grew and the cavalryman choked feebly.
"I wanna help you, not hurt you. I wanna give you things, not take them. I
can offer you a commission in Gogothath's provincial cavalry, a royal
pardon, forgiveness for your sins, and another chance at life. All you
gotta do is give me something in return. Help me help you, precious. Tell
me everything you know about Aggy-potato's mission and spare not a single
detail."
Writer: Piknim
Date Fri Sep 9 18:53:38 2022
To All Verminasia Shadow Lavinah Agapitos ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject Where Ravens Dare (V)
Time skipped a beat without a reply. Piknim blinked in realization, as
if only just noticing her captive's distress. She promptly removed the
pizza slice from his mouth, placing it atop his head for lack of any place
better than the filthy straw that covered the floor. The kender witch
cupped a hand to her tapered ear. "Well?"
"Neh.. neh-verr.." the human rasped, sweat pouring in rivulets along the
gaunt contours of his face.
Piknim stood upright and punted the milkshake across the room. It shattered
against the wall like the very creamsplosion for which it had been named.
"Why would you protect Agapitos," she hissed venomously, "You don't even
know him! He's nothing! What has the Light ever done for you? Nothing!"
The black-robed kender stalked back to the table and ran a small hand across
the array of hand-held torture implements. Some were shiny, some pitted.
Some were barbed, some smooth. Some were sharp, others dull. All were
unique, yet used for the same dark purpose. They reminded her of the tools
in her Topknotch Scouts woodworking kit, much less benign than the hobbies
she had picked up since the Day of Judgment when the color of her aura
at last turned red.
She selected a pair of pliers from the collection of instruments. Valmont
didn't need his teeth, after all. He had a red curly straw.
"I'm new at this, believe it or not," the kender witch declared
matter-of-factly, "It'll be a learning experience for both of us. I'll
either learn All about Aggy's mission.. or which of these toys makes you
scream the loudest. You get to choose!"
* -+- * -+- * -+- *
Valmont sagged against his chains, scarcely recognizable under the
lifeblood, sweat, and tears that painted his ruined body and stained the
floor beneath him.
Flashes of memory and fleeting thoughts fought to the fore of his mind only
to slip into nothingness one by one as he felt his life fading. He could
scarcely remember why he'd held out as long as he did. Pride? He'd long
since given up any pride. Loved ones? They were All dead and gone. Spite?
No. He had not enough hate left in his heart.
Grief?
Redemption?
Two sides of a broken sword.
The last of his memories sank into oblivion, save one, bright and warm like
a ray of sunlight beaming from the blue of a sky unmarred, unconstricted by
cloud nor strife; the beckoning blue of a morning ripe with possibility,
where All things were possible but for the limits of time and choice.
"Whatever you do here, it will not bring him back," the golden voice of Sir
Agapitos di Lucis echoed, "He bore great love for you, for it is etched in
the scars upon your heart. You loved just as deeply, but it was not my
fault, nor Rodrick's fault, nor your fault that he is lost. Honour him in
this, and get your man to safety. Cadoc died to protect you, that you might
live to protect others. Such grief may find outlet later, but the needs of
the present demand action. I forgive you, Valmont. But we must get Ser
Rodrick to safety. Go now."
"I forgive you, Valmont. But we must get Ser Rodrick to safety. Go now."
"I forgive you, Valmont.. but we must.. go now."
"I forgive you, Valmont.. go now."
"I forgive.. you.."
"Go now."
"Go."
A sigh escaped the cavalryman of Ravencrest as he breathed his last and
resigned his soul to the great beyond.
Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Sat Sep 10 16:29:49 2022
Writer: Wyltte
Date Sat Sep 10 19:18:36 2022
To All Verminasia Shadow Drakkara Religion Cayenna Necrucifer Immortal
Subject Darker Purposes Part Eight
Wyltte closed the heavy oak door behind him, the familiar yet distant
sounding thud it made when the bolt slid into the latches bringing back a
flood of old feelings and even older memories. The War Room remained
unchanged, and looked even to have a small film of dust on the huge black
stained dreadwood table in its center.
How many days, nights, and every moment inbetween had Wyltte been here in
this room, either penning his orders for the troops of Verminasia, writing
new code of conduct, recruitment letters, and so on ad infinium. He never
bought himself a home with All the coin he has had in his life, because the
War Room served that purpose.
As he paced about the room, he thought he could see the silhouettes of
ghosts past sitting around the table. Harlee, with her mischevious nonsense
and unwillingness to hear Wyltte through on any of his plans because that
was his job, not hers. Hugette and Liviya, Zayin, Solana, and so many more.
Each a specter that haunted his thoughts.
Wyltte had lived a long time. He wasn't done living, and he is certainly
not lost his touch on reality like Joat had, but as he stared at the
tapestry hanging on the wall depicting the wars Verminasia had fought in the
past, he wondered if All his time here amounted to enough.
Wyltte took a moment and sat down at his old chair at the head of the table,
facing the door of course so as to not be surprised should someone come
barging on. He felt the weight of his old positions settle on his
shoulders, but there was something different. Unlike before, he didn't feel
the urgency. It had always been urgent before, that need to recruit and
build and strengthen, the feeling that if he didn't do it, no one would.
What had changed? Quite frankly, he thought to himself, he had.
The pettiness of silly insults leading to guards taking their frustration
out on each other's citizens, the arguing over territory when there was
plenty of unclaimed land to be conquered, and the feeling of belonging to
something bigger than himself was now just awash in mixed emotions. Wyltte
believed in fighting for darkness, and a military man and soldier had been
his own life. But perhaps his blade hungered for a new type of blood, one
not stained at the gates of the city, but in the middle of a huge field.
Perhaps what he needed was a fight unlike any other. He had already been
fighting his inner demons, his loss, his uncertainty of where his bride,
sister-in-arms, and best friends had gone, for this was Algoron and souls
come to and fro All the time. But these fights were ones that he had no
control over. You can't punch an emotion, you can't slash the eyes out of a
regret, and you certainly couldn't dropkick self-doubt.
But you could do that to those who still can't see the truth of the
Darkness. It is only within the dark, has he ever felt free. Darker
Purposes indeed.
Wyltte opened the massive door to the war room and stepped outside into the
hall. As it slowly came to a close, he resisted the urge to give a final
glance backward to peer within the dimly lit room, for his future was not in
his past.
Writer: Penelopina
Date Sun Sep 11 14:57:50 2022
To All Andreyna Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Immortals Taliena
Subject Crystals!
{pCrystals! Red ones, yellow ones, blue ones, green ones! So many shiny
colors! Growing in such abundance!
{pThe Mystic Fields were a fascinating place to study, and Penelopina
Starflower Sha'evlas had already learned so much just spending a few days
there, yet she already felt she could have spent a not inconsiderable
lifetime and never solved every {pmystery they had to offer. She already had
an idea, however, that the waters in the well were somehow responsible for
the myriad crystal formations that had sprung up around it. It didn't take
a Conclave genius to see that much!
{pRight now, happily humming a tune in the shared grove, Penny was working on
a personal project. While the works with All the pretty crystals might one
day make Algoron a brighter place, she wanted to see results now. It was
the {phuman blood in her, really, sometimes she was just very impulsive. And
right now, she had the impulse to use the crystals to make something.
{pJewelry!
{pWith inspiration from one of her dragon friends, she applied her knowledge
of armor forging and set about making brass bracers, then studded them with
a line of gems. Red{p, yellow{p, green{p, and blue{p. The {pmagic inherent in the
crystals was making them already very protective, but she added on a bit of
her own enchanting just to be safe. Then she could make them into gifts!
{pShe had just finished six and was starting on lucky seven when there came a
call from down the grove. 'Penny?! Is there a Penny here?! {p'
{p'I'm here! {p' she called, standing, discarding bits of metal and crystal
that rained down onto the grass. 'How can I help you? {p' she asked,
flashing a million lantern smile.
{pIt was a runner from the temple, one of the clerists. 'Her Royal Majesty
Queen Andreyna Sha'enlas has been asking for you. By name. {p'
{p'Oh gosh, the Queen?! I'll come at once! {p' she exclaimed, scooping up her
mess and putting it in one of her haversacks for later. She could revisit
her personal project at another time. Bigger things were in motion {pright
now. 'Is this about the sunstone project? Or the marks of chaos in
Ironclad? {p'
{p'Perhaps both, {p' the other elf replied, unsure. 'I only know you were
summoned, and with some urgency. {p'
{p'Lead the way! {p'
Writer: Wyltte
Date Mon Sep 12 17:13:26 2022
To All Necrucifer Drakkara Cayenna Religion Immortal Zisuli
Subject Darker Purposes Part Nine
Wyltte found himself wandering aimlessly around East Darkthorne Circle.
It was a hidden gem in the housing district. While many preferred the Umbra
Way for its unnatural darkess, or Rosewalk Way for the distinct aroma from
the well manicured pushes, it was here that Wyltte had always dreamed of
having a home. The wild roses that winded around the thin stone path, the
awkward stone placement, the sweeping pastures that are on the outside of
the bustling city... It was nearly perfect.
Nearly.
As the sun started to raise itself over the horizon, golden rays striking
the crooked stones of the darkly lit path, Wyltte felt the gravity of his
soul pull him down so hard he feel to his knees, a resounding crack from his
kneecaps hitting the uneven stone.
"It was me.... It was always me...." He muttered to himself, hunching
over and placing both hands onto the uneven ground to steady himself. His
head was spinning, his heart raced in his chest, his mouth dry and raspy
with each jagged breath.
"I killed Necrucifer..." He was able to get out before his mind started
swimming into the deepest pool of blackness he had ever known.
When Wyltte came to it was already nightfall. If he had to guess, he had
been there the whole day, and due to the low amount of foot traffic in this
section of the city, no one found his body. Though this was Verminasia,
bodies in the street are not an uncommon appearance.
As his vision started to clarify, his eyes were drawn to the infinite night
that stretched through the heavens. It was beautiful, and melancholy, and
vast, and lonely, and full of fear and wonder and the unknown. Wyltte laid
his arms by his side, his right hand idly holding on the hilt of his
basilisk fang, the left hand palm down feeling the cold stone beneath him.
He was uncomfortable from the jagged walkway, but being uncomfortable was
not something he was a stranger to, so he did not move to fix his body
position. He let the pain remind him of why he was here, lying on the cold
ground alone.
"I should have stayed with the rest of the warband..." He whispered to
himself. "It was my inefficiency at hand to hand battle which led to the
light racking up victory after victory. Wyltte kept running to aid where he
could, but was cut done time and time again, his priest robes ineffective
against the sharpened blades of the light, their blood-lust sparkling in
their faces. Had he stayed back and just tried to heal the wounded, maybe
everything would have been different.
He lived with this guilt every moment of every day, a constant reminder of
his limitations and flaws. He put on a brave face to the world, kept moving
forward one foot a time, but deep inside, he felt the survivor's guilt of
bringing an end to Darkness as he knew it.
Wyltte stayed throughout the entire of the night, staring into the celestial
abyss until the first ray's of the next day started to awaken over the
hillside.
Wyltte didn't move a muscle for days, only laid there, a living corpse
paralyzed by his own guilt. Entombed within the prison of his own mind.
"Drakkara, Mistress of All Darkness, forgive my limitations.... Forgive my
inadequacies... Forgive me for my failures." He asked to the night sky.
Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Tue Sep 13 02:04:42 2022
Writer: Rahma
Date Wed Sep 14 16:09:02 2022
Writer: Rahma
Date Wed Sep 14 16:11:12 2022
Writer: Wyltte
Date Wed Sep 14 17:07:30 2022
To All Drakkara Religion Cayenna Verminasia Shadow Immortal Scorn Zisuli
Subject Darker Purposes Part Ten (Conclusion)
Wyltte crouched down quietly near the base of a large tent, the carnival
sounds All around him blaring their chaotic warbles. Crowds oooh'd and
ahhh'd over the fireeater's antics, and screamed in fear for the
lion-tamer's life as he smacked his whips at the savage beasts.
He wasn't here for them.
From the corner of his eye Wyltte spied movement coming from the western
edge of the tent. He could see a m{Oulti-col{Oored wig bobbing and up and down
over the tent top like a ship upon the sea. He waited till it was closer,
sneaking to the very corner of the tent but just out of sight.
Right as the long wooden pole struck out in front of him, Wyltte kicked hard
into the left stilt with so much force it broke at the corner. The clown
gave out a scream which no one heard over the carnival din as he fell
towards the earth, hitting the soft green grass with a hard thud that
knocked the breath out of him. In a blaze of speed, Wyltte ran to his side,
lifting him up by his spinning bowtie. The look of surprise on the clown's
face was soon replaced with the wide-eyes of fear as Wyltte's clenched fist
came screaming toward him, connecting with his bulbous red nose.
HOOOOONNNNKKKK! Went the accessory as the clown stumbled backward, another
crimson color spreading from beneath the nose. "Whaaaaittt a mimmic....
Waiiiitt... I didn' dooo nuthin" he tried to say before Wyltte was upon
him. A fury of blows rained down upon him until he lay nearly lifeless on
the ground. The sounds of clashing weapons could be heard from the jousting
arena, and All hands were there watching the spectacle. A small tear rolled
down the clown's face, and Wyltte allowed himself a small smile as his fist
came down hard again. HOOOOOOOONNNNKKKK! Went the nose once more, and
then All was silent.
Wyltte removed a small vial from his bandolier and collected the single tear
within the smoky glass ampule. He placed it back in the pouch and stood up,
checking to see if any had caught the spectacle. No one had. He hunkered
down next to the clown and spoke to him in his low-toned voice.
"The tears of a clown was the last thing I needed for myself. You see, I've
been angry, I've been in denial, I've bargained with my life, and I've been
deep into the most depressing self-loathing I could find." Here he pauses
for a moment, shaking his head. The clown struggled to open swollen eye as
he looked up at Wyltte. "The only thing I haven't done is accept what is to
come".
Wyltte pats his pocket where the vial was placed, and looked down at clown
with pure apathy. "I haven't come to accept All that has happened, my
place, my purpose, my lot in life yet until this very moment.... So thank
you" he offered. With a quick movement of his wrist, Wyltte buried his
dagger in the clown's chest, putting an end to his suffering.
Wyltte stood up and wiped the crimson stain from his blade on a macabre
towel hanging from his belt. "Now I know that just because you serve a
purpose in this world, such as yourself and your penchant to bring laughter,
doesn't mean you are only meant for that one purpose. " Wyltte walked away
from the colorful corpse towards the Arkane forest. With a small glance
backward, he finally shook his head slightly and returned on his way back to
Verminasia.
"Everything is made to be broken. Only the strong continue on" he says to
himself. All that was left to fulfill the darker purposes he knows he was
always meant for, but never truly believed...
Until Now.
Writer: Wyltte
Date Fri Sep 16 05:15:54 2022
To All Shadow Drakkara Cayenna Religion RP Immortal
Subject The End of the Beginning of the End Part One
For what seemed an eternity, Wyltte stated at the gatehouse of Storm
Keep. It felt like an age since he had been here, and in fact, it was. He
was a young ranger, barely old enough to shave when he first took his oath
to serve the Darkness.
He looked down at his hands, weathered and swollen from the training he was
undergoing, massive in size and strength, but beneath the rough service he
saw the age, the veins, the knotted scar tissue that came with many, many
years of experience. He was no longer a young man, no longer that idealist
and zealous idiot that jumped at every chance to be recognized.
He was Wyltte Kayen, and he was here at last. The end of the beginning...
Of the end.
Wyltte worked ever hard to show his dedication to Darkness. He trained many
a soldier, aided many a brother & sister in arms, prayed hard to affirm his
commitment to the Gods, and guarded his associations to not be conflated
with those of fickle heart. He was broken, bruised, battered, but not
beaten.
Wyltte knew that Drakkara would be watching his every move. He watched many
a faithful abandon hope in Darkness because change was not in their hearts.
Too many small ideas congealed to a giant blockage to their dark hearts,
suffocating them from within.
He was not one of those who could not see the future for the past.
Wyltte sheathed his blade before stepping through the massive gates.
Reaching back to tighten the cord which held back his hair at the nape of
his neck, then ensuring his uniform was ready for any inspection, Wyltte
stopped for a briefest of moments, kneeling before the keep. As was his
custom, Wyltte looked not at the ground when offering his prayers, but
looked to the heavens.
"Mistress Drakkara, Goddess of the Infinite Night, may my work an dedication
here not serve to amplify my name or legacy within Algoron, but to be better
served as a reminder that old hearts may change and accept what Your Dark
Will is for the realms. Let me words and actions do nothing but glorify you
and extol your magnificence, and may my blade be a force of swift and
decisive action to render judgment upon the unworthy. I am yours, Dark
Mistress, from now until my dying breath".
Wyltte stood up, perhaps a little more slowly than he would have when he was
younger. He moved as deliberately as an iceberg afloat on the ocean, slow
and steady, but with immovable purpose that came with knowing that he would
let nothing stand in his way. As he uttered his final words of prayer, a
small tightness gripped his chest for the slightest of moments. "Perhaps my
dying breath will not be so long away after all" he muttered to himself as
he stepped through the gatehouse and into his new life, his new end.
Writer: Deteryd
Date Fri Sep 16 12:41:35 2022
To All Chaos Malachive Erebaal ( Rp Imm Admin Scorn Malachive )
Subject The Freljier Crusade: The Coldest Night Begins
The Chaos Army marched its way to the town's wooden ramparts. Voices began to
cry out and shout with every minute. More and more heads were present to stare
with alarm at the Warp expedition company. Eyes stared out of peer holes. One
single, strong voice shouted from atop the rampart. Deteryd could make out that
it was a human man in chainmail through the dark of the night with nothing but
the moon and stars to illuminate the parties.
"And what brings the pondscum of Malachive here. Dragging your bellies across
ice and snow to your deaths?" the crusader called out. He lifted a spear and
leaned on it either for support or for intimidation. The Chaos lord didn't know
which, but he knew one thing: the later would be ineffective.
Orcs, half ogres, and humans. Cultists All began to growl and bellow. The hungry
mouths of war-famished dregs opened to shout curses and threaten consumption.
Kersen and Henna glanced at each other and joined in the growing din. The rest
of the Freljier barbarians followed in suit. With an icy stare, Deteryd stared
up at the crusader wordlessly. He did not need to return the taunt. The Chaos
lord brought something more tangible and substantial than a parlay of words.
The crusader stood at his full height and scowled as he retreated behind the
safety of his barrier.
Deteryd understood this as a moment of weakness. He ran across the tundra toward
the rampart and his army of barbarians and cultists followed propelled by the
promise of brutality and bloodlust. The Chaos lord reached the wooden rampart
first and brandished his ranger staff. With a word of magic, sage-green mana
illuminated his stave. He plunged the weapon into the barrier. An entangling
thrush of clotted vines and branches erupted from the rampart to pull the wood
matter apart to crush and create a gape in the defenses. Deteryd's men began
pouring through the knotted hemorrage of wood and the screams began.
Writer: Evaliae
Date Fri Sep 16 13:11:12 2022
Writer: Evaliae
Date Fri Sep 16 13:12:25 2022
Writer: Wyltte
Date Fri Sep 16 15:50:16 2022
To All Shadow Drakkara Cayenna Religion RP Immortal
Subject The End of the Beginning of the End Part Two
Wyltte pulled the bear cloak wrapped around his shoulders tighter to the
center, the driving snow flying in his face as he marched forward. It had
been some time since he returned to this section of Icewall, and for a good
reason. The last time he was here, he lost his eye.
He was just a Shade in Deathwatch, training hard as a barbarian and in
service to the God of Rage, Mencius. He planned an assault on the tower to
show his might, but was blinded in his right eye by a minotaur guard whose
axe nearly cost him his life. Wyltte could look back and consider how lucky
he was that didn't end his life right there, but at the time, it only served
to make him more angry.
On the ridgeline above Wyltte heard the low grumbling of some manner of
beast, and had only a moment's notice before it pounced upon him. A massive
saber tooth tiger pounced on him, it's massive paws digging into his
shoulders and knocking him back into the hard tundra. Immediately Wyltte
reached up to grab at the beasts massive maw, trying to keep it from ripping
out his throat as the tiger's claws dug into his shoulders. The blissful
white snow was stained with crimson as he struggled, managing to slam his
knee into the creature's ribcage. With an enraged roar it let go, bounding
back before turning on its paws again for another attack.
Wyltte quickly struggled to his feet, his left foot nearly slipping in the
slush of blood and ice. He unsheathed his blade with his right hand and
gripped the handle of his dagger with the left, ready for the next round.
The saber tooth tiger rushed again, this time keeping low and trying to push
into Wyltte's legs. He saw the attack coming and used his left foot to send
a spray of fresh powder into the tiger's face, temporarily blinding him.
Wyltte used the opportunity to get a number of lightning quick strikes into
the beast's side, landing one critical blow between its ribs and into its
heart. With a pathetic whine it stumbled backwards, its back legs no longer
working as it struggled to keep its stance. Wyltte walked over slowly to
the giant cat and placed his foot on its neck, pushing it down into the ice
with his leg. With one quick slash its throat ripped open, and there upon
the ice it was no more.
Wyltte knelt down over the massive beast, then reached up to his bleeding
wounds in his shoulder and placed some of his own blood on his fingertips.
He drew the sign of Drakkara on its forehead, then patted it on the top of
its head. "Rest well, old warrior" he remarked, standing up with a small
wince of pain.
As he continued upon his way through the snow, a little slower than before,
he wondered aloud to himself. "When my own time has come, will the sword
strike be as quick? Will it be as merciful?" He shook his head quietly
and continued onto the tower, looking to see if he could find his old
minotaur friend and repay him in kind.
Writer: Deteryd
Date Fri Sep 16 16:53:13 2022
To All Chaos Malachive Erebaal ( Rp Imm Admin Scorn Malachive )
Subject The Freljier Crusade: Cruelty Unbound (1)
The biting frigidity of the cold did not register to the Chaos army. Pain does
not register in the minds of cultists. The brutality of war-time conflict was
of utmost appeal to their unending hunger for meat. The sensation of tearing
flesh and cracking bone was its own reward, punctuated by the screams of god-
fearing crusaders and knightly vassals.
Deteryd made quick work of the ramparts using an entangling spell to rip at its
integrity. What was once a gape large enough for one orc to squeeze through soon
became a tear grand enough to permit the entry of several at a time as they made
their enthusiastic scrabble inside Freljier. The Chaos lord integrated himself
into the sea of orcs and threw his staff away. He drew his warp-forged battleaxe
and drove it downward into the clavicle of a crusader distracted by his intended
orc combatant.
Whirling in place, Deteryd charged at a priest knelt at the side of a knight.
White mana was attempting to infuse with the torn flesh on the neck of his pat-
ient, but diffused immediately when the ranger drove the axe's head into his
spine. He pried the axe from the priest and raised his axe, giving a loud and
savage shout to his men to carry on and press the attack. The priest collapsed
onto his patient, pinning him down.
Deteryd loomed over the pinned knight, savoring the hopelessness of his victim.
The knight screamed in terror as the Chaos lord raised the axe high and brought
it down in a savage cleave into his head. Blood, bone, and brain matter sprayed
about and the knight was no more. The elf's blood boiled and electricity filled
his senses.
Writer: Carrionmaw
Date Sun Sep 18 15:19:46 2022
Writer: Wyltte
Date Sun Sep 18 16:15:31 2022
To All Shadow Drakkara Cayenna Religion RP Immortal
Subject The End of the Beginning of the End Part Three
Wyltte plopped down onto one of the many chairs that encircled the
Library of Storm Keep, sweat pouring off his brow. He used the sleeve of
his arm to help wipe away the sweat that was stinging his eyes as he
breathed heavily. He laid his greatsword across his lap and leaned forward,
resting his elbows on the blade as he steaded himself.
He had trained hard, and although he still had many more fights to come
before he could rest, for a man of his age he wasn't falling too far behind.
In fact, some of his experience allowed him to predict problems before they
occurred. It will never be completely safe, nor did he want it that way.
Safe isn't what Algoron is about. He did want to continue pushing
forward.... After a few more minute break.
He could hear the distance chatter of the Warder and the Chancellor talking
in the halls. He cracked upon a book and started learning about the
formation of the keep, to include those of the Kayen line, the line he had
been honored to be adopted to so many years ago. Krystlyn officially
brought him into the family due to Wyltte's hard work, dedication to the
Master, and tenacity. He had always tried to live up for what it stood for.
It was one of the proudest moments in his long life. In fact, Wyltte wasn't
even his given name. He has no idea what it used to be. As a child, he was
found at the steps of the Temple of Mencius. The barbarians there called
him "Wyltte" in his dialect, which roughly translates to "found".
And now here he was, training and fighting alongside some of the Darkest
Knights upon the face of the planet. Trying to earn his namesake, a
namesake he knew not if it carried the same weight anymore. He has never
doubted Darkness and his place within it, never crossed those barriers of
betrayal he had seen so many "dedicated" soldiers had wandered across.
Wyltte knew that a name was a name, and did not define the character of a
man. He knew his worth. He was tireless, hard-working, strong in
conviction and steeped in purpose. If this name was taken tomorrow for all
the scandal that had occurred over the years, Wyltte would continue on in
the same fashion he always has; trying to prove to the Dark Goddess and Gods
that he was worthy.
Wyltte's spirit has always been his fuel, a relentlessness for purpose and
service, and the habit for putting others before himself. At heart he had
never seen himself as a knight, nobility, or anyone of importance. He was a
simple servant of Darkness who knows how to put in the work. Should All be
taken away from him, he knew that he would spend up to his dying days
working hard for Darkness.
For he has realized that change is what keeps us alive, keeps life
interesting, and though there is beauty in tradition, there is evolution in
change. If Wyltte had to change himself, name or no name, up to his dying
breath he would vow to burst into flames like a phoenix for the chance to
forge himself a new legacy out of the ashes of the past. And who knows when
Fatale will come knocking at his door. He was no young man, nor was he a
shriveled up old prune yet. He was a man looking for his place in the
world; in fact, that is All he has ever done.
Looking around the library and massive tomes steeped in history, tradition,
and evil intentions, Wyltte felt content that where he was, he truly
belonged.
He made a sign of Drakkara and sent up a prayer of acceptance to her fold.
Previous members of his family would have slayed him on spot for such a
thing, but Wyltte knew times had changed. His mind was clear, his purpose
defined, and his body freaking ached. Oh my God, he ached in places he
forgot had muscles. He winced slightly as he got up from the table and
headed towards the common area.
"I hope Drakkara's magic might be restorative enough for my strength and age
to keep this fight up" he said to himself as he turned his neck to the side,
a resounding crack peeling off the walls.
Writer: Penelopina
Date Mon Sep 19 18:11:58 2022
To All Shalonesti_Clan Shalonesti_Kingdom Immortals Taliena Zandreya
Subject Cram Time!
{pIf Penny had been somewhat hectic and excitable before, then for the past
few weeks she'd become downright frenzied!
{pSince the satyrs visit, she'd doubled down on studying the Tenets as they'd
been laid out by Cardinal XiaXia. Then tripled down for good measure.
Condensed each tenet into a {psingle word summation, then an antonym to better
explain what they meant and what they didn't mean. Organized into flash
cards to memorize, color-coordinated, strewn All over {pher bedsheets, and
went right back to it first thing in the morning.
{pShe wanted desperately to contact another priestess of Taliena to test her,
quiz her, ensure she was doing it right, but they were All so hard to find!
Her bestie Fae-Fae was {pusually fast asleep, her grandmother Rahma was
usually busy with her own projects (though they chatted, of course), and all
the others seemed like they never came around anymore {pat all!
{pSighing, Penny pulled up another card from her lap and read it aloud.
'Shared. {p' Right, that was the second tenet, which went 'Practice sharing
happiness and experience altruistic joy. Be truly happy for the successes
and accomplishments of others lest jealousy disease the soul. {p'
{pShe flipped the card, checked, and beamed a smile. Almost word for word!
Perfect!
{pNext card came up. 'Generous. {p' Hmmm, this was the healing one. Not the
self-love one either, which involved good health of both body and spirit.
No, it was 'Love is a healing force. A healthy body can disguise a broken
spirit, and through love, we can mend the wounded soul! {p'
{pShe flipped the card, checked, and grimaced. She wasn't even close, she'd
mixed up the sixth and ninth tenets again.
{p'Thistles! {p' she cursed, sliding the card back into the deck for a later
drawing. She'd get it right next time. The tenet actually said 'The act of
healing must come from a generous and selfless heart. {p' The answer was IN
the question!
{pShe was halfway through her next card when she heard a faint whistle, and
blinked, shooting to her feet to make her way briskly to the kitchen. She
gently moved the teapot so it wouldn't {poverheat, setting it aside. Tea
wasn't normally her drink of choice, but she figured it might make a nice
drink to serve for when the satyr came back. He'd been kind enough to share
{psome of his drink with her, after All (and she had the massive headache the
next day to prove it, despite only taking a polite sip or two), so now she
needed to return the favor. Thus, {ptea and scones. Perfect!
{pNext time that satyr came around, she'd be ready!
Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Tue Sep 20 00:14:08 2022
To All Althainia Knighthood Nadrik Xenophon
Subject Blood, Salt...and Pilgrims?
The breeze blew through the area, stirring up the coppery smell of the
blood river. Kyrlynn, whom was kneeling on the edge of the riverbank,
wrinkled her nose at the assaulting odor. She pulled some more seeds from a
pouch and planted them in the newly dug holes. Her and Regent Cyri had been
planting seeds and various plants All along the riverbank and under the
bridge for a while now. They were determined to make the garden succeed and
hopefully use the plants to help transform the river either by healing it
and replacing the blood with water or by draining it, to again be replaced
with water. A river of actual water along the city walls would be alright,
it would just mean the walls would need strengthened incase of flooding.
They could live with the river and adapt, they were already proving that
with the bridge and now the gardens.
The flood the river event had been more successful than she expected. Who
would have thought the blood river could be transformed into something that
was almost beautiful. All those in attendance had helped to toss the
flowers and balls of light into the river and then the river itself did the
rest as it carried those flowers and balls as it flowed. They had turned
something dark and evil into a thing of beauty even if for only a while. It
was a start! It was progress and it was also a symbol that showed they were
not willing to back down. They had filled the river with light, beauty and
hope that night, hope in the form of prayers and holy water. They had
invited people to bring a vessel of holy water to pour into the river and to
the Empress' delight pretty much everyone had even if All of them weren't
fancy. Prayers were offered both silently and spoken aloud as people poured
their holy water into the river. All in All the night was a success.
For days after, the Empress delighted in walking along the river bank and
seeing All the flowers and colorful lights that still swirled and floated
along in the river. It had fueled her desire to continue with the garden
and not give up. She, like Cyri, had continued to tend to the gardens as
much as they could but things had gotten busy with the Square celebration
and the upcoming Coronation. It was finally slowing down now with only days
left until the Coronation and until they were no longer Emperor and Empress.
Kyrlynn glanced down at her hands, at the golden gifts from Nadrik and
flexed her fingers. She'd made her choice, right or wrong, and now things
were in motion. "The time comes that you must become a pilgrim yourself,
Bluejay. " Lord Nadrik's words had stuck with her and with them the weight
of the choice.
A pilgrim she would be but this pilgrim was still determined to see the
river transformed and at least the blood gone. She picked up one of the
large containers of holy water she had brought and began pouring it into the
river as she walked. With each step she uttered words, a prayer to Nadrik
and the family of Light to help purify and cleanse the river of blood. She
followed it with large handfuls of consecrated salt that she tossed out
across the flowing blood. Two more containers full of holy water followed,
just on different sides and sections of the blood river, each accompanied
with prayers and blessings and handfuls of consecrated salt.
This was a fight she could continue no matter where the path took her and it
was one she would not give up on.
Writer: Pxaxx
Date Tue Sep 20 02:51:56 2022
To All Slayers ( Raije Imm RP )
Subject Pxaxx 1
A resounding BONG! Thundered through his head as he tried to come to
terms with the giant shadow raising away from his face. When it was far
enough, he saw a shiny foot covering that some of the 'bigger things' used.
Stunned he could not protect himself from further blows, only uttering a
slight mewl of pain. An errant though of, 'What was that noise?! ' entered
his mind for a brief moment... The giant foot covering descended. BOOONG!
He felt the impact throughout his little frame, but mostly in his head.
The foot covering rose again. New noises erupted about him.
(Dwarvish) STOP!
(Dwarvish) Wot?! Nae! Imma tear et's lil' troll 'ead ohff!
(Dwarvish) Oi! I wanna use et.
The foot covering paused, then slowly descended as the second speaker said,"
(Dwarvish) Eh? Ye wanna 'use' et?! Ye bae a weird one eh, Brafir.
(Dwarvish) Bite yer beard, Brourholin. I bae tired o' draggin' th' lil'
branches abou'. Imma train et!
(Dwarvish) Yur funeral. Taek et up wit' th' boss.
The shiny foot covering shifted on the ground next to his head, then swiftly slammed
into him. Donk! Pain exploded on his forehead. Then the sound of foot steps
grew fainter as the big thing moved away. He tried to grunt in relief, but even
that was too much effort.
Crunch! A new, and much less shiny, foot covering came into view as it
crushed some branches lying on the ground in front of his prone body.
(Dwarvish) Troll, ye listen ta meh an' I'll treat yah 'aight. Eh?
He tried to look up at the sounds, but his eyes were showing lies. He knew he
only had two eyes, but he saw five bigger things swirling about his vision.
(Dwarvish) Oi! Troll! Get up!
Someone began to spin him.
(Dwarvish) TROLL! When I speak! Ye listen!
A giant hand swam into view seizing him by the throat bringing him to five
swirling immaculate bearded faces with blazing eyes.
(Dwarvish) TROLL! Ye speak?! Ye dumb? Deaf?!
The sounds grew quiet. His vision grew dark at the edges.
(Dwarvish) TROLL! Monster! Ye dinnae git to die t'day. Nay, ye'll live an'
werk. Then ye kin die. Hah!
The darkness closed in...merciful nothingness welcomed him.
Writer: Aeshtyn
Date Tue Sep 20 09:49:07 2022
To Abaddon All Storyline ( Imm rp Cayenna Zypher )
Subject CONSUMED BY FIRE - THE DEATH OF THE COUNT
Aeshtyn and Embyr follow their father through the rocky foothills of
Andulasia, headed to a small fishing village on the shore. They had gone on
foot, taking only half a dozen guards, the pace unhurried, bordering on
leisurely. It wasn't the first time the twins had taken trips with their
father the Count of Abaddon, but those had All been business. The trips
taken by horseback or carriages, Aeshtyn more often than not camping with
the Guard details. This trip was more about strengthening relations with
the more outlying villages and people of the un-stewarded provinces. It
wasn't about unpaid taxes, or dealing with conflicts that the local
magistrates couldn't handle. It was about strengthening relations. Letting
the people know they hadn't been abandoned regardless of what was going on
in the Captial. Three days of hiking through the countryside. No kingdom
politics. No debates of what was to be done or not done. Just him with his
brother and father. On the morning of the fourth day, the sea started to
take up more and more of the horizon as they got closer to the village.
Small hovels and homes spotted the rockier ground with the sound of animals.
Sheep grazed on everything that could be found as chickens pecked for small
bugs and seeds that were scattered about. It wasn't until mid morning that
one of the guards hurried up to their Count, pointing to smoke in the west.
The Count never hesitated, telling the twins, though young men, to stay
behind, already casting his spells as he ran off. Aeshtyn and his brother
were not about to miss out on whatever was going on and quietly followed.
Cresting the ridge Aeshtyn and Embyr stopped short as the sounds of swords
striking swords erupted in the still air. A rag tag group of well armed men
of various races were engaged with the guards and their father. Lightning
streaked through the sky, their father the size of a giant ogre cleaving
through the bandits with his sword. As Aeshtyn drew his blades, a
half-dozen had broken off and were coming straight at them, at least twenty.
Aeshtyn was the younger of the two, by mere minutes, but he had always been
the more -act first, think later- type, unlike his more learned brother.
Taking what he had learned with the nightshades, he did what he had been
trained to do. Move in quick, strike quicker, get out. So, thats what he
did. All the while, trying to keep between himself and his brother. He had
lost sight of his father and the guards. Without warning, spears of stone
slammed through the man he was fighting, pinning him to the ground. He was
too busy trying not to lose his head. Looking up he saw his father and as
their eyes met, Krenath said only one word. RUN. He heard nothing, then
the sky ignited. Pillars of flame burst through the landscape as bandits he
had been fighting moments before simply disintigrated. When he looked again
he saw his father. There were no guards left. Turning on his heels, he
grabbed Embyr's sleeve and fled. Behind him he heard the screams of the
dying as flames ripped through the bandits. He didn't stop until his legs
felt like over filled wine skins, and his lungs burned with every breath.
Turning, he waited for his father to come into view. Day turned to dusk,
and there was no movement. Dusk to nightfall, the stars bright in the sky,
and still nothing. Aeshtyn and Embyr stayed to the shadows and made their
way back to the field to find only ash. Burnt shields and weapons were
scattered across the ground. Sets of burnt armor lay in piles, still
upright but with no bodies inside them. And no Count. For hours in the
dark, lit only by the half moons, they searched until it was found. Their
father's sword lay in a pile of ash. His father's dagger lay sheathed next
to it. Whatever magic he had used, whatever power he had tapped into to
save his boys, had consumed him too. The Count was gone.
Writer: Aeshtyn
Date Tue Sep 20 18:39:38 2022
To Abaddon ( Imm rp Zypher All )
Subject The Death of the Count - Mourning of the Son
It had only been a day. Not even that as he and his brother had just
been found that morning, but it hadn't sunk in completely. Now, as evening
was turning into twilight it hit him. Hard. His father was gone.
Walking through his office aboard the Deliverance, he realized how much his
presance he took for granted. The nights he would spend pouring over
parchments at his desk. Messengers coming and going at All hours. Tears
fell unchecked from his eyes as his fingers ran over the bindings of the
many books on the shelves. Some of which he had read to them as children.
Aeshtyn didn't pick anything up, or move anything, everything would be left
just as the Count had left it. His mother would likely be doing this same
thing, eventually. Tonight though, she was not ready. This was his turn to
remember his Father. Remember him taking the time to help with bathtime, no
matter what matters of state needed of him. Remember the hugs and stories
at bed time, no matter who wanted his attention. Aeshtyn knew not every
child had such doting parents, or lives as privaleged as his, but he was
thankfull for it. His guards, for now still assigned, stood outside the
closed doors. None would get past unless he said so, he was alone. He was
alone to cry unashamed. To have the night to mourn is father's passing.
Tomorrow much will be expected of him, especially now. He was not Count,
nor did he pretend to be, but the days of childish games and letting the
world pass him by, were over.
In the corner of the office, tacked to the wall, was a map of the realms.
The continents in brown, the oceans in blue. Each one named with dashed
lines to show their boundries. Shipping lanes marked in red, each ship with
the times of arrivals and departures. This he touched, running his finger
over each one as he studied it, speaking the names of them. It fascinated
him how the captain of a ship could know where he was at any given time,
even in the middle of nowhere just by the smallest of landmarks. How he
could plot a course, and sail it, with just a simple map. He didn't enter
the Countess's quarters, that was his mother and father's room now, and if
felt.... Wrong. Instead, he sat in his father's oversized chair, leaned
his head against the padded side, and fell asleep. Tomorrow will be
tomorrows problem. Tonight was one last night in his father's lap.
Writer: Sedinae
Date Wed Sep 21 16:50:12 2022
Writer: Wyltte
Date Wed Sep 21 19:37:00 2022
To All Shadow Drakkara Immortal Religion RP Cayenna Verminasia
Subject The End of the Beginning of the End Part Four
The blustering wind cut through Wyltte's heavy bear cloak as if it was no
more protection than a roll of parchment. Icewall's heavy winds were known
for humbling the most stalwart adventurer. Wyltte pushed on through the
blinding snow at midday through the glacial plains, trekking along at a slow
but steady clip.
The midday sun could barely be seen through the cloud cover, a small light
dot against darkened skies. Wyltte pulled the collar of his cloak tighter
but to no great effect. It was just going to be a miserable walk... But he
didn't mind. He had been punishing himself from his time he arrived back to
the continent. He was glad to see familiar faces, but equally as sad for
those he didn't see.. Zisuli, Ashtiel, and many more. Training had
distracted himself for a moment, but in times of suffering, his failures
always took center stage in his mind.
Coming upon the frozen lake, Wyltte felt the grip on his cleated boots
change, hearing the familiar *crunch* *crunch* of the powered snow turn into
a *creeeeakkkk creaaakkk* from the weight of his massive frame on the ice
below. He paused for a moment to look into the frozen depths, kneeling down
to wipe away the upper layer of powder to stare through the ice like a
window into eternity. As he was looking through the ice into the lake
below, a few golden feathers and bits of diaphanous cloth shook free from
his cloak, landing on the glass-like surface. Wyltte sneered at the sight,
feeling assaulted by the heavenly remains of the seraphic witnesses he spent
the last few days trying to control their population. The blazing aurora
was awash in light and reminders of the lights burden it puts on dark souls.
He wanted to be rid of such filth.
Wyltte removed his cloak, armor, tunic, and then breeches and placed them
safely at what he felt was the bank of the frozen lage. The wind tore at
his flesh, but he didn't register the freezing cold torrent as he moved to
what he guessed was around the middle of the lake. He brought with him an
old rusty sword found outside of the gates of Arkane, stuck within the muck.
He lifted the blade high, saying a prayer to the Black Moon as the tip of
the blade reached towards the heavens.
"Drakkara, Mistress of All Darkness, let me be awash in your glory, and may
I shed the stench of mediocrity and All doubts from my heart with the cold
embrace of pain" he offered, then turned the blade towards the frozen lake,
and with a mighty heave shoved the tip into the ice.
The resounding crack was sharp, and then a dull breaking sound could be
heard throughout the entire area, the uneasy feeling of his footing as the
cracking grew louder and coming in short waves. Wyltte tried to steady
himself before the ice beneath him shifted so violently he lost his balance,
plunging headlong into the icy depths.
Cold as Death, yet peaceful was the water beneath the broken shards of ice.
Wyltte floated below as one suspended in animation, tumultuous islands of
ice bobbing on the surface above. The shock from the icy water was
instantaneous, feeling breathtakingly cold while sending stabbing pain like
needles of fire into his skin. After what felt like an eternity, Wyltte
seemed to drift off in his mind, his vision dimming as his mind started to
fade to black. He had almost given completely over to the cold when he
heard screeching overhead. "Caaaaawwww, Caaaaaaaw!" Came the sound.
Wyltte opened his eyes and peered up through the broken windows of ice to
see a shape hovering above him. Something in his mind snapped itself from
its trance as he painfully swam to the surface.
Wyltte busted through the ice, gasping for air as his breath turned into
vapor the moment it hit the icy wind. Staring at him from atop one of the
floating pieces of ice was a midnight black raven, though its form was
ethereal in nature, with piercing ice blue eyes.
Writer: Wyltte
Date Wed Sep 21 20:23:13 2022
To All Shadow Drakkara Immortal Religion RP Cayenna Verminasia
Subject The End of the Beginning of the End Part Five
Wyltte laid on top of the broken ice still connected to the bank of the
lake bed, the spectral raven staring at him almost accusingly. Wyltte's
breaths were shallow and labored, his left hand over top of his heart as he
tried to recover. Through All of his numbness and shock, he watched in
interest as this apparition hopped towards him. The fact it moved as if it
was corporeal was somewhat funny to him, and he let out a little guffaw at
the thought. This raven saw his face and lowered its head to come right to
eye level not six inches from Wyltte's face.
"Caaaaaaawwwww!" It screeched so loud it nearly broke Wyltte's eardrums.
"Damn Bird..." He weakly whispered to himself. He closed his eyes again,
the biting air nearly freezing the droplets in his face. His beard was
already a solid block of ice.
"Caaaaawwww, Caaaaawww!" Came the raven again, rousing Wyltte from his
stupor. The raven was hoping up and down, screeching so loud he couldn't
think of anything else. Wyltte summoned up the strength to sit up, his body
racked with stiffness.
"Alright, Alright.... I'm awake" Wyltte found himself up on his knees and
slowly stumbling back to his clothes. Each step pained him, pins and
needles with every footstep. The raven stopped hopping around angrily and
floated in the air in front of him, watching with its judging eyes as he
dressed himself and slung on his pack. Wyltte took one look back at the
frozen lake and saw the jagged spikes of the broken ice had already
congealed into a nightmare hellscape, its unbroken serenity now a broken
mass. Wyltte trudged on back to the place he considered his second home.
The spectral raven stayed ever close to Wyltte, watching his every move. As
he sat down for a bite to eat at the board in Valhalla, Grinhilda showed up
with a steaming plate of elk with roasted vegetables. Wyltte nodded in
thanks, his beard now thawing and dripping onto the wooden bench from the
warmth of the hall's hearth.
"Och, Can ya get yer bird out ov here?" She asked Wyltte, glancing over to
where the raven was perched on the sill behind him.
"You can see that?" He asked Grindhilda. She gave a nod of affirmation.
"Oh aye, I can be seeing yer bird. And iffin' it be making a mess in me
hall, it vill be you cleaning it up, ya here me!" She exclaimed, walking
away from Wyltte.
Wyltte turned his head to look at the raven, squinting his eyes slightly as
he examined it. The raven squinted its eyes right back at Wyltte, then
looked sharply over towards the end of the hall. Instinctively Wyltte
glanced towards the hearth to see what the raven had spied. When nothing
was seen, Wyltte turned his head back to look at the raven and noticed a
large strip of elk flesh was in its beak. Wyltte looked down at his plate
and saw part of his dinner torn apart. He glared at anger and picked up his
horn of mead, flinging it at the bird. The horn passed right through it and
smashed into the window, a spray of foamy suds covering the glass.
"Hey there, ya vill be settling down there or ya'll be out on your arse, ya
here me!" Grinhilda yelled at Wyltte. Wyltte just shook his head and
looked at the raven, shaking his head back and forth.
"What are you?" He said to himself. The raven reared back its head and
let the piece of elk flesh slide down into its gullet, completely
disappearing into the spectral raven's body. Wyltte shook his head and
looked down at his plate. He picked up his fork and lifted it to his lips.
Just as he was about to take the bite, he felt those eyes boring into him
again. He looked down to see the raven in front of him at the edge of the
board.
"Caaaaawww?" It said as it looked at him.
"Drakkara help me, I must be going mad" he thought, as he tore another strip
of flesh from the elk and handed it to the raven, who ate it greedily.
Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Thu Sep 22 00:28:12 2022
To All Althainia Nadrik Xenophon Immortal
Subject Double the Blessings
After hours of tossing and turning, Kyrlynn decided her efforts to fall
back to sleep were futile. Her mind was just too restless with the upcoming
Council, the Coronation and the weight of her choices tugging at her. She
rolled over towards Mercerion and placed a soft kiss on his cheek before she
slid out of bed.
After slipping on her robe, she prepared a kettle for coffee and placed it
on the fire. She sifted through a stack of missives on the table for a
moment before setting them aside. A distraction was needed, something to
keep her busy for a while and she knew just the thing. She grabbed her
armor and began dressing as the kettle heated.
She tugged at each buckle, cinching them comfortably before she retrieved
the kettle and began to pour herself some coffee. 'You didn't really think
I'd be able to sleep either, did you, ' came a voice from behind her. A
soft chuckle escaped her lips and Kyrlynn held up a second cup of steaming
hot coffee and turned to smirk at Mercerion, 'Answer your question, my
heart?'
The Emperor smiled and accepted the cup of coffee before taking a sip. She
saw him glance over her for a moment, noting that she had her armor on
before he asked 'River? ' Kyrlynn nodded as she sipped her coffee but
before she could speak, he turned back towards their bedroom and called out
as he disappeared. ''I'll meet you at the gates. '
A smile formed on her lips and she took one last, quick drink of her coffee
before setting the cup aside. She strode quickly through the palace and
gathered up her supplies, the containers for holy water and the small
barrels of consecrated salt. Loken, who had fallen in step somewhere along
the way took the small barrels from her and carried them.
It wasn't long before the Emperor and Empress were standing on the bank of
the blood river, the containers of holy water and barrels of salt stacked
around them. They took a moment to both say a prayer together before each
of them picked up a vessel of holy water. They began to pour the holy water
into the river as they walked, 'Lord Nadrik & Family of Light, help us to
cleanse and purify this river, to heal the land and fill this river instead
with fresh water. '
Blessings and prayers continued as each vessel was poured into the river and
followed with handfuls of consecrated salt. After each vessel was emptied,
they would move to a new section of river and begin again. They continued
this until they had emptied All of the containers. When they finished,
Kyrlynn set the last vessel aside and stepped closer to Mercerion. She
leaned into him as they just stood there in silence.
Words weren't often needed or perhaps they were communicating as they always
had, either way they stayed there for several long moments before they
gathered up supplies and headed back towards the palace.
Writer: Geirhart
Date Thu Sep 22 14:21:46 2022
To Althainia Arkane Knighthood Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Justice Memnoona Rahma Timmel Imm Religion Xenophon ( All )
Subject Raise the Stone : The Ruins Pt2
'Alright, I'm going to go low. Tal, you attack from the left side.
Yurin, you shoot for the eyes. '
'Wait, sir! It doesn't have eyes! ' exclaimed the ranger but it was too
late for Baruk and Tal were already sprinting towards the grell. Pulling
back on his shortbow, the half-elf let fly a couple of arrows above the beak
which may or may not have been near the eyes.
'SQUAK! Went the grell as two bolts pierced it's frontal lobe. Growing
frantic, it lashed out at All sides with its tentacles. Tal ran wide to the
left side gathering momentum and turned in a wide arc so that his
longsword's slash would have both strength and velocity added to the cut.
Meanwhile Baruk took a frontal assult. Running quickly, he used the grell's
floating form to his advantage. At the last moment he dived under the
writhing mass sliding under the grell and slashed at the underbelly with his
shortswords. The final blow coming from Tal as he brought his sword down
across the grell's side. The three wounds ended the life of the beast in a
matter of seconds.
'Khara! ' spat Baruk as he wiped off the grell guts from his jerkin.
Perhaps being under the grell as it was slain was not the best place for the
man to have been though it seemed to have merits at the time.
'I think we're in the clear sir. ' pronounced Yurin as he eyed the
remainder of the street.
'Nice shooting there Yurin, seems you found something regardless of it's
lack of eyes. '
Looking around, the three took up positions along the road and moved slowly
eastward. Aside from some more dust and debris, no other issues greeted
them. Finally they reached the eastern gates that led to the valley below.
Two watch towers rose up on either side of the gateway. The towers were
squat and square with the northern tower needing some masonry repair at the
top. The base of the northern tower had a collapsed inner wall which made
easy access out of the city. It would need to be looked at first to fix the
hole and stabilize the structure. The southern tower however was almost
completely intact. Sand and the arid heat had made much of the wooden
ladders and furniture useless but the structure was functional. There even
seemed to be a trap door leading down, perhaps something to explore later.
A few former shops and old two story buildings remained in decent repair
near the towers. These could become adequate storage areas and residences
for the officer staff.
'Tal, head back to the caravan and bring them here. ' ordered Baruk. He
and Yurin decided to do a bit of exploring to see if perhaps there was
anything of actual value left in the buildings. Nothing like a good
treasure hunt after a kill to take one's mind off the fact they were in the
middle of no where with no allies for miles.
Writer: Wyltte
Date Thu Sep 22 18:49:41 2022
To All Shadow Drakkara Cayenna Religion RP Immortal
Subject The End of the Beginning of the End Part Six
Wyltte landed at the port, his keen eyes on the lookout for any enemies
as he made his way to the keep. His vision was sharper, able to see much
more than his life as a skald. It was a welcome change.... Plus the Dark
Lord told him that his singing voice sounded like a Toad calling for a mate,
which is never an appealing attribute.
The spectral raven never was too far away from him, taking to flit and float
about his right shoulder. He looked back several times to see if it
continued to follow, and never was it gone. He knew it wasn't a
hallucination; Grinhilda confirmed that. Then what was it?
"You know, sooner or later you are going to need make to sense to me. Why
are you following, what are you, do you speak? I thought ravens had some
speech capability" Wyltte remarked, casting a quick backward glance.
"Caaaw" it curtly replied. Wyltte noticed it had what amounted to
expressions, and more personality than a bird should have. It was
intelligent, taking in everything with its piercing ice blue eyes. It even
responded to stimuli... As in Wyltte tried to anger an aboleth so it would
try and eat the ghost bird, but to no avail. It new it couldn't be harmed,
but in response to the attempt kept diving at Wyltte to see if he could make
him duck. It worked a few times, he was ashamed to admit.
Wyltte finally got to the gates of the Storm, stopping to kneel at the
entrance and swear his commitment to Drakkara. He knew she was watching
everything, and Wyltte wanted to make sure to show his commitment and praise
to Her. It was inherit in him. The raven perched on the fencepost, looking
at Wyltte curiously as he said his prayers. Glancing over, Wyltte nodded
once at the raven.
"It's important to show respect to the Dark Goddess, and to the Darkness in
General. I don't know where you hail from, but they are the reason I still
awaken. I've lost so much... I couldn't survive without my faith" he said
to the raven. The bird looked up at the entrance to the keep, then back at
Wyltte. Then it did something unexpected.
It hopped down onto the ground and walked over to where Wyltte knelt. It
looked up at the sky as Wyltte did when he prayed and opened his beak. Now
sound escaped, but it was in perfect mimicry of Wyltte's prayer. After a
few moment, it lowered its head and looked up to Wyltte. A small "caw" with
a tone of finality escaped its beak.
Wyltte nodded back to the raven, a small smile on his lips for the briefest
of seconds. "Well done.... You." The raven narrowed its eyes
disapprovingly at such a generic title. "I suppose if you are going to be..
Hanging around, haunting me... Not sure what to call it, you should have a
name. Unless you can tell me what yours is?" The raven blinked once or
twice, then appeared to shake its head. It took off and landed on the fence
near the keep entrance.
"No, I suppose that would have been too easy. Let's see here... What if I
called you.... Edgar?" The raven didn't respond, although secretly he was
hoping it had some enigmatic response to his naming, such as responding with
"evermore" instead of just cawing at him in disapproval.
"No? Elvira then perhaps? Not sure if you are a girl, or a boy, or...
Nothing perhaps? Can't say I've had a lot of experience with spirit ravens,
that's for sure". Once again the raven didn't respond. A distant memory
crossed his mind as he knelt there in contemplation, the faintest emotion on
his lips.
"I know your name... Corvus. You are Corvus" At this the raven hopped up
and down on the fence. "Caaaaaawwww Caaaaaaaawww!" It exclaimed, seeming
excited but not alarmingly so.
Wyltte nodded, the smallest mist in his eyes as he stood up from the ground.
"Come now Corvus" he replied. "We have some studying to do".
Writer: Thuken
Date Thu Sep 22 19:32:14 2022
To All Cliath ( Imm Religion Rp Admin )
Subject A Priests work - Aiding Tropica I
Thuken stood in the shade under one of the last remaining trees before
entering the savanna. He looked over the flowing ocean of high grass before
him. This would be the best place to rest and offer his prayers. Weeks had
passed since Thuken set out from the safety of the mountain to seek out
villages in the heart of Tropica. He knew this was where Malachive and his
armies held the most influence over the locals that would follow him and for
those that did not if they were lucky enough to live their villages were
likely destroyed and would need assistance in rebuilding. Thuken glanced
upwards to the sun just beginning its descent towards the horizon. Once the
sun set and the day's heat was not so oppressive he would begin his trek
towards the nearest village.
Sitting down in the grass below the tree Thuken assembled a small altar in
honor of Cliath. Thuken offered his prayers lowering his head, asking his
Lord for protection and guidance on his mission into the heart of Malachives
territory. As the sun set, he stood from his prayers and headed through the
grasslands. Continuing his steady pace through the tall grass Thuken found
his eyes wandering up to the clear night sky the view of the countless stars
above. The breathtaking view causes Thuken to stop for a few moments to
take in the view as a smile crosses his lips.
"My Lord the gifts you have given this realm never cease to amaze. " Thuken
as he returned his gaze to the flickering lights of the remaining campfires
within the village.
As the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon Thuken walked into the
small village. A number of small Leonine nervously watched the dwarf as he
passed them. The latest round of attacks had ruined much of the town. As
the total weight of the destruction set in Thuken realized why it was that
Cliath planted the inspiration for Thuken to come and aid the villages where
he could.
Thuken sat with the village elders planning the path forward for these
leonine. Fortunately for Thuken, this small tribe had stopped following the
animals of the savanna and set up their permanent homes here, however, this
made the sitting targets for those of Chaos. Hours passed by and still, the
discussions continued. A few of the elders wish to return to their nomadic
ways well others wished to rebuild and stand up to the intruders. Thuken
offered his council on both ideas yet he was not quite sure how to best
protect these people. Looking down to the dry ground he began to wonder if
he could perhaps teach this village some of the dwarven knowledge.
Looking over the small group Thuken began to speak "Ah know yer people will
never enjoy being underground loike mine do, yet ah cin show ye ow ta shape
the stone and build yerself tunnels and safe rooms were tose o Malachive
will nah look. "
Writer: Thuken
Date Thu Sep 22 19:35:22 2022
To All Cliath ( Imm Religion Rp Admin )
Subject A Priests work - Aiding Tropica II
As he finished speaking he pulled his pickaxe, hammer, and chisel from
his pack setting them before the council
Ah cin show ye ow to make these tools ef ye wish ta learn, et will give ye
an escape.
The elders spoke quietly among themselves asking questions of the dwarf when
they arose and eventually they agreed to give this idea a chance if it
failed they would demolish the city and move back into the savanna.
Thuken smiled as he set to work, sending off a messenger towards Thaxanos he
would import enough ore to make enough tools for every member of the
village. Knowing it would be weeks before the bulk of the ore arrived
Thuken decided he would show some of the villagers how to gather what little
ore there was close to the village. Thuken and about ten of the younger
villagers set out from town headed towards a small set of hills to the south
that looked promising.
Leading the small group Thuken whispered "Cliath guide mae en this venture,
ah cin nah let these people down. "
He knew there was a small chance of him actually finding ore on this trip
yet his dwarvish pride would not allow him to admit that out loud. The
group walked for several hours before stopping to set up camp at the base of
the hills. Thuken set up a large tent over where he would begin his
digging. Once the shade was up Thuken took a few moments to drink some
water and a few swings of ale from his enchanted keg he set to work the
sound of his pickaxe rhythmically echoing across the hills. The leonine
took turns passing the spare pickaxe among them each one working until they
grew weary, Thuken hardly slowed as the hours passed his body conditioned
for such work back in his home he dug deeper into the hill as the others now
rested. Eventually, the hole extended twenty feet into the side of the hill
Thuken was sure to make it wide enough for the others to enter, It was here
that he found small veins of iron ore. Calling for the others to carry the
ore they were able to fill one small wagon full, just enough to make a few
sets of tools. The group decided to rest for the night and return to the
village the following day.
After returning to the village Thuken set up a small forge teaching the
villagers how to make a few simple tools they would require. He spent time
teaching them how to work the ore and make simple tools, Allowing each one
to make their own set. Once All the villagers had the tools he showed them
how to carve stone to make their homes and cut tunnels within the earth.
Days passed and each day they set to work on the tunnels, cutting out some
rooms that could be sealed off as well as escape tunnels that lead into the
grasslands. Each of the hideouts was stocked with water, food, and a set of
tools so the villagers could dig themselves out if required. As the final
tunnels were completed Thuken presented the elders with a statue of Cliath
as a means to protect them in the future and the priest turned and walked
from the village and headed back towards the mountain he called home.
Writer: Penelopina
Date Fri Sep 23 06:28:43 2022
To All Shalonesti_Clan Shalonesti_Kingdom Immortals Taliena Zandreya
Subject In Vino Veritas!
{pHe was here! Penelopina Starflower Sha'evlas scrambled in the nearby
kitchen to get everything ready, nearly fumbling the kettle before she set
it over the stove, and swiftly depositing a pair of cups beside it. As {psoon
as the whistle went off, she grabbed everything and did a little juggling
act as she sprinted back towards the grove where her guest was waiting for
her.
{pBelphron, wandering satyr and Talienite enthusiast. At least, for the
foreseeable future. He'd asked Penny for lessons and this time she didn't
plan to disappoint!
{pShe poured tea, trying to pre-emptively decline his offer of wine with
refreshments of her own, well remembering the hangover she'd had from his
previous visit. All the while she rambled on about how {pdelighted she was to
see him, that she'd been working hard to memorize the Tenets and could speak
on them more clearly and capably now. She All but dared him to test her
knowledge, her soul trembling {pat her boldness, her hands shaking even as she
offered him a cup of jasmine tea. Recognizing her own excitability and
nervousness was getting the better of her, she took a sip of her own cup
after it {pit had suitably cooled.
{pThen grimaced, it was awful. She still had a lot to learn about brewing
tea.
{p'I'm sorry, I'm still learning, {p' she apologized. The satyr waved off her
concerns, shaking his head. 'Nonsense, quite alright! Please, continue, on
with the lessons! {p' he requested. All {pwhile discreetly pouring out his tea
at the base a nearby flower.
{pPenny rambled off facts and ideas she'd done her utmost to memorize in the
last week, spouting them off as easily as a schoolchild would recite the
alphabet. The satyr seemed very pleased, slapping his {pknee and otherwise
agreeing with her assessments, even if occasionally she needed to clarify
herself. But she was learning just as much as she was teaching, despite his
appearance, Belphron was {pvery experienced, and offered new insights Penny
might not have otherwise considered for the tenets. As time went on, he
again offered a libation of his wine, and Penny reluctantly {paccepted, not
wanting to be rude. But she kept her sips small while the goat-legged
fellow easily outpaced virtually any dwarf she had ever met.
{pDrink finished, it was growing late, and the satyr prepared to take his
leave. Penny winced, feeling she had failed again. But Belphron offered
some tips and assured her that {pshe hadn't. 'Maybe just try to emphasize a
little more the healing aspect of Taliena, now that she has taken over the
portfolio of her daughter, Siccara. {p'
{p'Kadiya and Peace too! {p' Penny realized. 'You're right, I'll do that! {p'
{pHe smiled at her enthusiasm. 'Good. Oh! Almost forgot, I have something
for you... Someone asked me to drop it off, {p' he explained, reaching to his
side and producing a bundle, which he set on {pthe ground before her. Penny
leaned in curiously, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. What could it be?
Deftly, she untangled the cloth wrappings, revealing...
{pShe gasped. 'But this is...! {p' He nodded. 'Oh my goddess... Thank you!
Thank you both! {p'
{pHe waved off her thanks, saying again he was just running an errand for
someone else, and he looked forward to their next talk. And with that,
Belphron faded into the brush and vanished. Leaving Penny sitting there
stunned, cradling the object in her hands. A tiny Deacon pin, meant to be
worn by priests as a sign of rank.
{pSwallowing nervously, she clipped the pin onto the front of her dress, just
over her heart. Despite almost nothing happening, she felt simultaneously
free of an awful burden... And smothered by a newer, even larger one. The
responsibility settled on her shoulders as her breathing came in short
gasps, and she realized just what she'd agreed to. She started to feel
faint. Blindly grasping for her cup, Penny lifted up the fortified wine
Belphron had given her, and downed it in one gulp!
Writer: Alzu
Date Fri Sep 23 09:43:59 2022
Writer: Deteryd
Date Fri Sep 23 17:51:10 2022
To All Chaos Malachive Erebaal ( Rp Imm Admin Scorn Malachive )
Subject The Freljier Crusade: Cruelty Unbound (2)
Wooden huts patched with fur wore wreaths of flame that climbed into the night
sky. The orcs and brutes of Chaos thrashed their foes with a reckless ferocity
that only selfless rebellion could bring. Propelled by bloodlust, every cut and
stab from their god-worshipping adversaries stoked the heat of devastation with
every wound escalating the violence to new terrible heights. Bones snapped,
blood flew, and viscera spilled like glistening red eels from bellies.
Kersen and Henna fought back to back against their home's usurpers and invaders.
Henna's stone-edge tipped spear whirled and Kersen's hatchets gleamed against
the vista of blood, fire, and anthem of incomprehensible orcish roars. Priest
and crusader alike fell at their feet as they worked in unison like a finely
tuned gnomish contraption. Kersen would drive his hand axes in a vicious cleave
into the clavicles of his foes, while Henna would provide range and distance to
keeps the threats trickling towards them by spinning her spear in wide arcs. It
was beautiful to see. The Chaos lord caught glimpses of their synergy and felt
a swelling of pride to see this example of mortal tenacity.
Deteryd cut his arm through the air and roared over the din, "Show them where
their faith has brought them! Show them how alone they are!" The Chaos army
bellowed their delight in response. The Chaos lord gripped his warp-forged axe
in one hand and squeezed its handle, willing his fury and mana into the weapon.
The edge began to glow a dim orange and a heat began to form, baking the blood
to dust and vaporizing the snow that touches it. The wrought metal of Rorra's
make and design stressed and creaked in his grip.
Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Sat Sep 24 00:47:41 2022
Writer: Wyltte
Date Sat Sep 24 17:51:52 2022
To All Drakkara Religion RP Shadow Zisuli Cayenna Verminasia Ashtiel
Subject The End of the Beginning of the End Part Seven
Wyltte stood in the middle of Verminasia, staring at the massive statue
of Drakkara standing over the buildings of the Dark Jewel. It was something
he was still unaccustomed to seeing, not because of the Goddess being
celebrated, but because he knew this sight line through and through. He
spent a majority of his life in Verminasia, and many a day right here near
the guillotine.
Corvus perched right in the center edge of the guillotine platform, the
space where Ashtiel used to post herself as she managed the Kingdom. Wyltte
would come here and talk, discuss how to better the Kingdom, and look up
towards Ashtiel with that familial bond. Corvus lowered it's torso and say
there peering at Wyltte as if looking through his soul.
"What?" Wyltte asked of the spectral raven, shaking himself from his
contemplation. Corvus didn't respond, but kept staring at him for quite
some time. Some drunk opened the trapdoor beneath the guillotine and
started up the stairs, a fresh lottery ticket in his hand. Corvus appeared
to get a twinkle in its piercing ice blue eyes, and hopped on top of the
trapdoor, slamming it closed on the drunk. Wyltte heard the man tumble down
the stairs, a large crash as he hit the floor below. Corvus threw back its
head and laughed, and Wyltte suddenly had a flash of Deja Vu'. Corvus threw
back its head and appeared to let out a series of small caws, almost like it
was cackling. Just like Ashtiel did when she tricked people going into the
trap door.
Wyltte stood dumbfounded for a moment, his brain racked with thoughts. How
did this Raven close the door? How did it now about others in his past?
How did it see into his heart. Wyltte closed his eyes for a moment and
processed it all, replayed every moment of Corvus's actions, searched his
soul for what it All meant. He has been pouring over documents and
recounting of the Trials, the Nature of Drakkara, and how to best aid the
keep. He had not been searching what All of the burden of loss had done to
him. Though he had move forward with the reality of his faith and prayed
hard for Drakkara to accept him as one of Her Own, he did not move forward
with his losses. It hit him like a hammer to the chest.
Wyltte looked over to Corvus, his grey eyes meeting Corvus's blue eyes.
From deep within his mind, he reached out.
"I Know You?" Wyltte projected to the Corvus. A cold feeling touched his
mind, not unlike the headaches he used to get when Lazerus Talmont would
show up.
"Do you?" It came back into his mind. "Do you really, or are you just
holding onto false hopes and ghosts of the past?" The voice was raspy and
cold, but bored into his very spirit.
"I do... You.... You are grief. You are loss. You are guilt and pain
and..... You are every part of my past." Wyltte looked up at the towering
statue of Drakkara again, then back to Corvus.
"I am what you make of me, Kayen" it replied. "Now, what will that be?"
It projected again.
Wyltte thought long and hard about it, then responded with a confident tone
back to Corvus, not with his mind but with his actual words. G"I will carry
you as a reminder of where I come from, a reminder of what made me... But I
will not let you rule me" he said. "My past serves me, not the other way
around." .
Wyltte looked up at the towering statue of Drakkara one more time before
looking back to Corvus. "Just like I serve Her now". He knelt and said a
prayer to Drakkara, before standing once more and using her dark blessings
to summon shields of protection around him.
Corvus hopped down from the trap door as the drunk came stumbling back up
and pressed upwards, one again landing at the center edge of the guillotine.
"Caaaaww" it simply replied, and flew into the air following Wyltte as he
left the square, sword in hand.
Writer: Piknim
Date Sat Sep 24 18:35:47 2022
To All Verminasia Shadow Wyltte ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject Footprints of History I
"As a man's foot leaves the history of his travels in the sand, so too
does a God leave the history of his travels in this world."
Piknim's gaze lingered upon the plaque at the mortared base of the white
granite statue that stood over the ruins of Balifore. She turned her eyes
upward to take in the sculpture's handsome features. The idol held its chin
upright in a proud display, with a serene expression and warm smile that
belied the utter destruction of innocence surrounding it.
Malachive.
She turned and trudged south through the ruined city. The weight of
introspection only made Piknim's steps heavier, leaving diminutive
footprints in the ashes that blanketed the broken streets. Behind a
child-like countenance and violet eyes full of amaranthine mirth, her psyche
simmered and seethed like a bubbling cauldron as All the memories and
lessons that led from past to present stirred together and curdled into
sentiments altogether foul.
How had it come to this?
The gods of Light and Balance created kender to be of gold and gray auras,
then deprived them of magic. Shackled by fate, bound by weakness.
The forces of Light shepherded the Baliforians with pithy platitudes,
pledges of protection, and promises of a bright future, encouraging them to
live trivial and frivolous lives, stifling any sparks ambition or hope of
becoming greater than they were meant to be, only to abandon them like lambs
to be slaughtered by the Godson's Abhorrent. Where were they that horrible
night? Where were they when Hatemongers laid waste to the Kenderhome?
The forces of Balance stood by and watched, barely lifting a finger to avert
calamity or rebuild what had been ravaged. The weight of an entire race,
Piknim's kin, had amounted to nothing in the cosmic scales. Omission of
action only laid bare the naked truth that kender had carried hidden in
their breast-pockets from the moment they were created to wander these dark
and shattered lands. Kender were destined by divine design to be hapless,
careless, mundane cutpurses and nothing more. They were inconsequential.
Worthless.
Few wanted them around.
Fewer still actually cared about them.
Not the gods of Light and Balance nor their mortal servants upon Algoron,
from the proud Emperor admiring his reflection in a mirror, to the diffident
mason chiseling his latest statue, to the humble farmer tending his fields
beyond the castle walls. How many monuments to Mercerion had been carved
from the finest stone, while not one Baliforian cobble repaired? How many
shops had sprung up with the Grayclaw surname plastered across their
threshold, while a neighbor lay in utter ruin? There were plenty of free
hugs, oatmeal raisin cookies, and blessings of honor and hope to go around,
however, and always would be.
Only the forces of Darkness had made a promise and kept it.
The weak existed to be subjugated or culled.
Writer: Piknim
Date Sat Sep 24 18:47:18 2022
To All Verminasia Shadow Wyltte ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject Footprints of History II
The weak existed to be subjugated or culled.
The Kenderhome's darker neighbors had said it from the beginning. They'd
said it All along. So too had it come to pass. If only her kin had
listened. If only they had sought to ally with the kingdom of Verminasia
and form an empire. If only they had submitted to the Darkness, rather than
defied it at the behest of the very shepherds who ultimately abandoned them.
If only they had been made to submit for their own good.
Conquered. Subjugated. Empowered.
Set free from false hope and empty promises.
Independence breeds chaos.
Submit and be strong.
Death is patient.
It flows both from without and within.
Be vigilant in All and skeptical of all.
One who follows the heart finds it will bleed.
The Shadow Knight's Code. Three verses.
Piknim had accepted the first long ago in the aftermath of Balifore's
destruction, yet come to understand it more fully after finding succor in
Drakkara's embrace.
Submit or die.
The second had become a mantra as the responsibilities of a Countess and
favored soul of Drakkara settled onto her shoulders, All the while threats
both within and without tumbled into her pockets one after another.
Adapt and overcome.
The third cautioned discipline, which kender lacked in spades, when faced
with emotional excesses in particular, which Piknim Cracklespark possessed
in abundance.
Servant of Darkness.
"It's not saying that we can't or shouldn't be passionate. We're not meant
to act like golems or gargoyles," Piknim once explained to a young pupil,
"Drakkara wants us to live passionately, to burn bright with ambition, and
seize that which we most desire. She also demands that we master ourselves
and temper reckless ambition with the rigid discipline of purpose. Follow
your heart, but never so far that it distracts from the Vision or eclipses
your love for Drakkara."
"Within the Infinite Night, everything."
A lifetime steeped in Darkness and buried at the bottom of a purist regime,
trampled upon for decades, watered with blood and tears, and nurtured by
wicked hands had birthed a shadow that bloomed far taller than nature
intended and bore many a bitter fruit. Envy. Regret. Hate. Greed.
Pride. At times they would sustain her, but she had learned to shed them as
necessary to focus upon that which truly mattered.
Infinite Night.
And within it, the power to reshape Algoron.
Piknim had not yet seized enough power to rebuild the Kenderhome, unlock the
shackles of Fate that bound her kin, wreak vengeance on a cold and callous
world, or reshape Algoron to her liking, but she would.
By Drakkara's grace and Light be damned, she would.
"Within the Infinite Night, everything."
Writer: Piknim
Date Sat Sep 24 19:01:31 2022
To All Verminasia Shadow Wyltte ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject Footprints of History III
Balifore's ruined temple square stood empty and abandoned, but for an
iron-wrought cauldron sitting in the recess of the old lemonade fountain.
Piknim wandered from one destroyed building to another, looking more
scavenger bird than kender, her diminutive form clad in black robes and
hunched like a vulture. The kender witch's violet eyes flitted about, keen
and ever curious, as her Finder's hands sifted furtively through debris and
delved into forgotten crevices.
She picked shattered pieces of stained glass from the old bakery's rotten
sill. Red, green, gold. She scooped barren soil from a cracked planter
into a pouch. In the shell of the temple, she found a copper token stamped
with the High Priest's seal. By what had once been a candy shop, she found
a dusty blue marble amongst the withered fescue. Near the fountain, under a
pile of stones, she found a locket on a fine silver chain. She plucked a
link from it and slipped the rest into her pocket. Finally, the kender
witch returned to her cauldron and added each item in turn.
The last of the reagents were brought with her from Gogothath. She
retrieved the broken fork of an old hoopak from her canvas pack and used a
whittling knife to shave pieces off it into the cauldron. Next, she
produced a glass canning jar full of assorted treats: blue gobstoppers, sour
lemon balls, and sugary rock candy. She selected one of each and added them
to the brew. A handful off plump raspberries from a pouch followed, and a
slice of acorn pie wrapped in a cloth napkin followed that. Last but not
least, Piknim dug a small, brightly-colored Topknotch Scouts merit badge
from her pocket and gazed at it for a long moment.
* Exemplary Citizenship *
Piknim cast it into the cauldron as well. Then, she swept a small hand
across the misty surface and uttered an arcane command word. The embers
beneath the cauldron swelled with verdant flame and bubbles erupted as its
contents boiled. She spit into the brew, stirred vigorously with a long
wooden spoon, and settled into a soft croon. The cauldron began to tremble
until it shook violently and belched forth a prodigious stream of pink smoke
as her crooning broke into a shrill screech in a forbidden tongue.
Pink smoke soon flooded every inch of the square, filling the old fountain,
roiling across crumbling floors, painting ruined walls, and creeping into
every nook and cranny. All that it touched turned vibrant and new as potent
illusions took hold, mixing with reality and memory anchored by the reagents
both sentimental and mystical.
Balifore came alive once more, reshaped and restored if only for a short
while.
Sunlight glittered on the stained glass window of the old bakery. Hot pies
cooled on the sill: chocolate, acorn and All the favorites. Vines and
stalks heavy with bounty filled planters beside a fruit stand, where an
elderly kender woman sold juicy lemons, tart cranberries, plump raspberries,
and Balifore's famous Merganser melons. A group of kender children shot
marbles on the porch of the candy shop. Through the open door, barrels
brimming with assorted candies beckoned passers-by.
Topknotch Scouts dashed to and fro from the temple proper on quests for the
High Priest, earning merit badges and seeking out adventures. The
Kenderhome's guardian, Skinner, patroled by with the hoopak that bore his
namesake, acknowledging the kender witch with a tip of his jaunty hat.
Piknim took a seat upon the rim of the fountain and took it All in with a
small smile. Lemonade burbled behind her alongside the babble and laughter
of kender citizens coming and going. The aromas of confections both sweet
and savory wafted on a cool breeze, cleansed of charred wood and dusty
stone. She recognized many faces. They'd been pulled not only from memory,
but the broken spirits and shattered reality of the ruined environs. It
felt more real than any jumble of memories or rapidly-fading dream ever
could. It felt like home.
Writer: Piknim
Date Sat Sep 24 19:12:08 2022
To All Verminasia Shadow Wyltte ( rp imm Drakkara Cayenna Admin )
Subject Footprints of History IV
It felt like home.
Piknim pulled the Topknotch Scouts nature journal from her canvas pack,
along with charcoal pen, and began to sketch.
"Hi ho! What're you drawing? May I see?"
Piknim looked up. An adolescent kender stood before her, beaming brightly.
She wore a suit of tooled leather armor over a white shirt with slashed
sleeves of baby-blue and mossy-green, and carried a hoopak of pale ash wood.
Ready and raring for her first wanderlust, Piknim surmised. The kender
witch knew the look in those eyes All too well. A locket on a silver chain
hung about her neck.
"A very pretty picture. Nothing more, nothing less. What's your name,
precious?"
"Daffodil Springstep! All my chums call me Daffy. Means crazy, you know.
What's yours?"
"Piknim. Piknim Cracklespark. Do you mind if I draw you, Daffy? Before
you go?"
"Why, of course! It'll make a fine memento for my next crazy adventure!
Hah-hahh!"
Amy skipped backwards and struck a heroic pose, hoopak resting across her
shoulder and a hand on her hip. Piknim's hands flew across the page in a
charcoal blur as she sketched with reckless abandon. Daffy's patience
wouldn't last long. Neither would the magic of the moment. In no time at
all, she'd captured Daffy's likeness in shades of black and tore the picture
from the journal. Piknim stood to hand Daffy the sketch, only to find
herself pulled into an impetuous hug.
"Thank you so much, Piknim! You're a real chum and no mistake. Well, one
good turn deserves another. Here you go!" Daffy exclaimed, accepting the
picture and pressing a small alabaster token into Piknim's empty hand.
"Good luck on your adventures, too! I hope they're every bit as crazy as
mine!"
Daffodil Springstep turned to leave with a lively bounce to her step and the
illusion began to fall apart. She faded first of all, dissolving into pink
smoke that evaporated into the sky, then the other kender as well, leaving
the temple square devoid of All save one.
A solitary kender stood at the far end of the divide, at once so familiar
and yet so different, healthy and happy of countenance, garbed in robes of
pure white, wide-eyed with irises of gleaming gold and a smile that beamed
like sunshine.
A radiant reflection of herself.
A familiar lie.
Their eyes met and Piknim held her with a venemous glare as the illusionary
world she had shaped literally went up in smoke, one pink fizzle at a time,
until only the radiant reflection had yet to go.
Finally, she too dissolved into motes of light that ascended into the
cerulean sky. Gone.
In the end, only Piknim Cracklespark remained in the midst of utter
destruction.
Writer: Symantha
Date Sun Sep 25 17:23:37 2022
Writer: Z'Quarus
Date Mon Sep 26 00:30:13 2022
Writer: Deteryd
Date Mon Sep 26 10:55:29 2022
To All Chaos Malachive Erebaal ( Rp Imm Admin Scorn Malachive )
Subject The Freljier Crusade: Cruelty Unbound (3)
Deteryd approached the cabins, burnt and unburnt alike, one by one and began
searing the Mark of Chaos, the eight pointed star, into their walls with his
weapon.
Screams from the townspeople rose from behind him and a few orcs grunted for
their lord's attention. Deteryd turned and stared at their faces. The orcs were
sufficently bloodied and injured, but they didn't show pain or discomfort. They
didn't acknowledge their wounds, only their lord. Slung over each of their
shoulders each were two unconscious or sobbing Freljier citizens dressed in
thick grey wolf furs and leathers.
"Do it discreetly," Deteryd barked. The orcs nodded without word and made their
way to the gape in the rampart. Into the darkness they walked until they could
be seen no longer. He placed a numb hand against his breast where Ithyxa's
journal stayed secure in his armor's inner-binding.
Writer: Deteryd
Date Mon Sep 26 10:57:23 2022
To All Chaos Malachive Erebaal ( Rp Imm Admin Scorn Malachive )
Subject The Freljier Crusade: Cruelty Unbound (4)
Kersen's blood was seething. The adrenaline of this fight for both his people's
and his own survival set his body on fire. He could not tell if he was bleeding
or if he was covered in sweat. A wetness cloaked him he could not determine.
"Another," Henna cried. She stabbed her spear forward, keeping an infantryman
at bay while Kersen dispatched a man with powerful swing of his axes. Kersen
could not see Henna's face, but he could feel her energy and ferocity. He could
imagine the blood-flecked snarl on her face. The muscular ginger woman was in
her element in killing. She was the master hunter of the tribe and her skills
translated seamlessly in a war-time effort. She once killed to feed, but now
she kills to free.
Kersen caught movement in the corner of his eye. He turned his head to catch a
glimpse of two orc men carrying townspeople out through the gape. He frowned
and felt a pit of worry in his stomach form. This did not make sense. They were
here to restore the territory to the native Freljiern people. He tore his gaze
from the orcs and scanned the battlefield to find Deteryd. With a nudge, he
indicated to Henna he was breaking formation. She nodded in return.
He was going to get to the bottom of this.
Writer: Deteryd
Date Mon Sep 26 10:59:14 2022
To All Chaos Malachive Erebaal ( Rp Imm Admin Scorn Malachive )
Subject The Freljier Crusade: Cruelty Unbound (5)
Deteryd turned his head from his work, scanning the waning battlefield for any
sound of approach. Footsteps. He could hear footsteps behind him. After comple-
ting another eight-pointed star, he lowered his axe and turned to greet his
guest.
"Kersen." The Chaos lord recognized the barbarian's feral gaze and paused. He
stood exhausted and decorated with glistening blood and sweat. Deteryd knew
something was wrong, "Your coordination with Henna was sublime."
"Why are your men taking my people away," Kersen said lowly. As if in warning.
"To safety," Deteryd took a hand up to his hair and shook out his dreads with
vigor. "The battlefield is not safe. They have seen enough carnage." A chill
breeze blew between them.
Kersen did not appear to accept this answer. The barbarian's brown eyes were
locked on the elf. Deteryd stared into his conscript's eyes coldly and frowned.
The air stood still as the two locked glares, unmoving and unflinching in their
demeanor. A few more orcs passed by with unconscious civilians draped over their
shoulders. Deteryd frowned internally at the poor timing, but Kersen was not
having it. He gestured to the passing orcs with an angry wave. The man clenched
his teeth with fury as he spat out his next words, "Why are you here?!"
Writer: Piknim
Date Mon Sep 26 13:10:27 2022
Writer: Piknim
Date Mon Sep 26 13:27:51 2022
Writer: Piknim
Date Mon Sep 26 13:38:30 2022
Writer: Piknim
Date Mon Sep 26 14:07:10 2022
Writer: Kyrlynn
Date Tue Sep 27 13:30:18 2022
To All Althainia Knighthood Nadrik Xenophon Immortal
Subject Some Things Change, Some Things Stay the Same
It was a weird feeling to walk through the streets these days, even the
guards were still adjusting. They were so used to saluting Kyrlynn that
they did so without thinking most times. She chuckled to herself as she
passed one of the Captains and he caught himself before he could complete
the full salute. He dropped his hand and dipped his head instead, 'Bluejay.
'
In a few days it would be a week since the Coronation and so far everything
was going fairly smoothly. Things were still busy but not the same level of
busy, not better or worse... Just strange. Her trip to the river had
continued which was currently where she was headed.
Each day she'd carry the enchanted vessels of holy water, holding far more
than they should be able to, and pouches of consecrated salt. She'd offer
prayers for cleansing and healing the river and land before she began to
pour the holy water into the blood river, more prayers and blessings as she
did and again as she tossed in handfuls of salt.
Today she lingered on the riverbank and tossed in flowers from both her
garden and the garden of wishes. Was she stalling? Perhaps. It wasn't out
of fear so much as want for the right words to come to her. She'd received
a lot of support and encouragement in recent days, it was humbling. She
felt blessed to have taken this journey and thankful to those that had been
by her side through it.
With the last of the flowers tossed into the river, Kyrlynn drew in a deep
breath and nodded. She would go to the Celestial Temples to pray and
reflect. The words would come, they always do.
Writer: Raimbaut
Date Tue Sep 27 15:49:54 2022
To Knighthood All ( Austinian Nadrik Imm RP Xenophon )
Subject The Vigil and the Sapling.
He strode from the meeting with Sir Leoncourt to make his patrols and
meet Elder Rahma at the common square. It had sprouted, and that was
something worth seeing. Upon arriving and greeting each other, he knelt to
the ground to inspect the little thing. He smiled. It was healthy. It was
growing. It sort of smelled like manure, but that was to be expected. The
dirt was a beautiful and rich color, no pebbles, rocks or debris to be seen
on or around the ground as he inspected. Eh, Ive got some time. Thus he
stood vigil over the little sapling, looking down.
Writer: Wyltte
Date Tue Sep 27 20:22:18 2022
To All Drakkara Religion Imm RP Piknim Shadow Verminasia Zisuli
Subject The End of the Beginning of the End Part Eight (Finale)
The candlelight flickered within the library as Wyltte poured over a a
haphazard array of books, journals, scrolls, and manuscripts scattered
across the table. Corvus, the spectral raven sat on his shoulder as he read
a particularly interest tome regarding the Umbra. The raven was inseparable
with him ever since the frozen lake in Icewall, but now it has become
something... More.
Countess Piknim Cracklespark had aided Wyltte earlier in understanding how
the raven was connected to him. She said she had more work to do, but when
he went to retrieve feathers from Corvus, he physically felt the connection
between the two. It was surprising but not disconcerting. Wyltte had lived
more than a few lifetimes it felt, and although the happenings on Algoron
were constantly surprising him, he's seen his fair share of inexplicable
events.
He turned a of the ancient parchment, careful not to tear or break its
fragile surface. He looked up and saw Corvus was watching the tome with
interest. If Corvus was the embodiment of his past like Wyltte suspected it
was, then it would be as hungry for knowledge as Wyltte was now.
Sitting back from the large table, Wyltte looked around at the massive
collection of manuscripts before him. He was here, buried in knowledge
within the Storm Keep. He knew one day he would return, though he didn't
know it would take as long as it did. He had ever been the loyal servant to
Darkness, and had wore a large array of hats along his road to service.
He had been a General, an Advisor to the Crown, a Bishop of Necrucifer, the
Marshal of Arkane. Each role he dedicated his full self to, but none had
felt as right as this moment.
Wyltte no longer had members of his family about, no longer was blessed with
the souls who help forge him into the man he is today.
This was the end of the beginning of the end, for there was no clearer path
for him anymore. He was home.
Writer: Geirhart
Date Thu Sep 29 10:27:32 2022
To Althainia Arkane Knighthood Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Justice Memnoona Rahma Timmel Imm Religion Xenophon ( All )
Subject Raise the Stone : Althainia Arrives Pt1
TWO DAYS LATER
It didn't take long for a small tent city to form up along the eastern
street. Baruk knew that canvas and poles in the desert would serve well
enough as they worked on preparing this ward for it's new purpose. The
buildings would protect the soldiers from most of the wind and storms that
might arise. There were still the odd grell here and there but they were
able to range the beasts to death with arrows and not incur any real danger.
The nights were quiet and still. The stars were different but it still
reminded him of evenings out in the Thalosian sands. He had taken an old
spice shop as his quarters and it had easy access to the roof. There he
could lay out and watch the White and Red moons rise into the night sky. It
also smelled a lot more pleasant than some of the other buildings.
If he had been a peaceful man, these few days would be almost a vacation.
Yet his sword hands had an itch. He worried his skills would become dull.
Certainly once this bastion was settled, he could return to the Wrath and
continue his work. Abaddon, Verminasia, and the Dark Clans had made
progress with the pillars. He should be out there, finding out what
happened rather than sitting here playing builder.
'ATTACK! ' yelled a guard from below.
'Perhaps prayers shouldn't be answered. ' muttered Baruk as he ran
downstairs and out into the street.
AT THAT MOMENT
Gaemra was content in her cabin. She had a bottle of Thaxanosian whiskey,
her knife, and a nice piece of bone to scrimshaw on. The candle was a bit
low and her mind was slightly off focus. Perhaps rather than whittle she
would rest. However she was not about to have the sleep she longed for.
'Captain! You asked any ship activity to be reported. There is a large
shadow on the horizon. The ship looks like a galleon! ' exclaimed the crew
member.
Grumbling, she put on her leathers, stowed the knife, and opened the door
with what must have been a very displeased face as the sailor paled and
motioned to the top deck. The captain could see the White moon's light
shimering on the ocean. Stars filled the sky. Then, on the horizon, she
could see a black mass blotting out the stars and keeping the light of the
moon off the waves.
'Launch a flare. Crow's nest, eyes on their flag! I want to know what's
coming. ' cried Gaemra.
A gnomish small cannon was fired into the night's sky. An explosion of
light flared into existance far up in the night sky granting a bit of
daylight for the crew to see what horror may be approaching them. It was a
large galleon, sails full, and a crest was sewn into the canvas of the main
bast.
'Althainians, Captain! The Empire has joined us! ' exclaimed the
crowsnest.
'The old man brought the Empire into this. What the hells for? ' thought
the captain.
'Give them a wide berth helm. They won't be landing until morn. Make
welcome our allies. ' ordered Gaemra as her mind awakened just a bit to the
changes this arrival meant.
Writer: Cyri
Date Thu Sep 29 13:43:12 2022
Writer: Geirhart
Date Fri Sep 30 11:02:10 2022
To Althainia Arkane Knighthood Shalonesti Shalonesti_Kingdom Justice Memnoona Rahma Timmel Imm Religion Xenophon ( All )
Subject Raise the Stone : Althainia Arrives Pt 2
EARLY MORNING
Green blood and muck covered the road with trails of it leading into various
houses. The attack had been quick and quiet. From what Baruk could gather,
the grells had come out from basements or underground openings into the
houses and then up into the barracks. A few soldiers had died quickly
before their allies could awaken and start to drive them back. He had been
fighting All evening with little help in sight. One messenger was sent back
to the docks to see if perhaps the sailors on the Sacrosanct could provide
some relief. However the forces from Justice were few in number, they were
not a formal army and this was not a military occupation.
'Curse that priest! Why did he send us here with too few people! ' growled
the assassin as he stabbed a grell in the side with one sword to help free a
cornered recruit who had been backed up against a wall.
Spinning around, he noted that three archers had found the high ground and
were raining down arrows on three grells that had come out from a building
on his right. Five soldiers, went to engage the new grells but more were
coming out of doorways. At least fifteen members of War were in battle with
the beasts and couldn't block the doorways to create a choke point. Their
best bet was to retreat to the gate where they could ensure there was an
escape route.
'To the Gate! Retreat to the Gate! Archers, clear a path! ' he yelled.
His twin short swords were waving to any who could see him and then slicing
off a tentacled threat. He dove to each side of the road, slowly backing up
as he gathered as many survivors as he could. He didn't see a body behind
him as he tripped and fell. Underneath him, he recognized the face of Yurin
staring sightlessly up.
'No... ' he whispered as he closed the mans eyes and then leapt up. The
assassin knew when to close off emotions, emotion would get him killed right
now. Survival was what was important. He dragged wounded men and women
back as they slowly made their way backwards. The grells continued to come
out from windows and doors. Then there was a cry of alarm as grells poured
from the southern tower, making their escape even harder.
Almost ringed by the beasts, the men and women of Justice settled into a
group. Halberds, daggers, and swords All prepared to give the writhing
beasts death for death. Many whispered prayers to various gods and
goddesses. The Wrath would not fall easily.
'Infantry, ADVANCE! ' yelled a voice from the other side of the gate.
Heavy boots thudded on the ground as fifty infantry fighters flowed into the
gate, their strikes cutting down the grell from the tower and allowing the
Justice fighters an escape route.
'Althainians! We're saved! ' cried a member of Tactics. The swarm of
emperial soldiers flowed in and around small group and pushed the grells
back into their holes. As he looked back, and a swarthy Orc looked at him
with a grin and beside her was a large human giving various orders. He ran
back to Gaemra mirroring her smile.
'I thought you didn't have any land legs, Captain? '
'My legs work fine Baruk as do my daggers. I brought a friend, Captain
Bjorn. Captain meet Baruk, Lieutenant Commander of Survival. ' introduced
the swashbuckler.
'Let's continue this discussion after the ground is cleared. Captain,
Commander, let's end this. ' growled Bjorn as he took up his warhammer and
led the remainder of his forces into the breach.
Writer: Penelopina
Date Fri Sep 30 12:10:44 2022
To All Shalonesti_Clan Shalonesti_Kingdom Immortals Taliena Zandreya
Subject Yet More Crystals!
{pPenny hefted up her huge basket and set it on the table with a mighty
'oomph' nearly spilling its contents everywhere. Beautiful, bright red{p,
yellow{p, green{p, and blue crystals{p. Freshly acquired from her {platest trip to
the Mystic Fields east of Arkane.
{pPeople were loving the designs of her bracers, and already she'd gifted away
several to close friends, but others were clamoring for more. Well, who was
she to disappoint?
{pHer makeshift workshop had already included the brass beaten into the bracer
shape, inspired by a dear friend of hers. Now was the tricky part. Penny
sat down at the table and found a pair of magnifying {pglasses, popping them
onto her face so she could see her work more clearly. Each gem needed to be
placed precisely, in a certain order, to properly let the mystical energy of
the gemstones flow. Any good {pspellcrafter could tell you that. Now, Penny
was no gem worker, but the magic of the crystals seemed different. More
primordial, she felt.
{pFinishing one bracer, Penny took a moment to relax and clear her mind, which
had started to wander. It was inevitable she would wonder just where the
magic for the crystal fields had come from. All signs {ppointed to something
powerful, something ancient, deeply buried beneath the four fields. Below
the well whose water flowed fresh and clear season round. These things
could not be coincidence. As pretty {pas it All was, it spoke to something
other than natural happenstance. And pretty as it All was, it was not
necessarily something benevolent. Penny paused, picking up a yellow{p
gemstone, running it {pbetween her fingers. While most of the crystals seemed
to have the golden aura of goodness, the southeastern field, with these
particular yellow geodes, did not.
{pOoh, she hoped Geirharts Expedition went off soon. The much wiser and more
experienced Cardinal was going to have them do a whole research expedition
to learn more. Really dig deep and find some {panswers. It was going to be
super exciting, and Penny couldn't wait. She'd already packed and re-packed
her travel haversack, so that when the call went out, she'd be there.
{p'Maybe I should go check again, {p' she said, hopping up and leaving her work
half-finished on the table as she went to look over her travel suppliers.
Backpack, rations, tent, sleeping bag, medical {pkit, and other essentials.
Yup. She was ready!
Writer: Asaza
Date Sat Oct 1 12:05:26 2022
Writer: Wyltte
Date Mon Oct 3 12:39:14 2022
To All Drakkara Imm Cayenna Religion RP Piknim Shadow Verminasia
Subject Spectral Conversations (Part One)
Wyltte walked slowly through the forest, back to where his first true
memory was here on Algoron. Out of the corner of his eye he spots the
shadowy form of the pilgrim making its way over to the Temple of Evil. Not
ten paces north is where it All began. The bandit attack on his parents.
Corvus flew right behind his shoulder as always, hovering in the invisible
wind as Wyltte scuffed his feet against the forest floor. He both wanted
answers and didn't want to know anything, but he knew ignorance was not an
option.
He stood over the very spot where his parents were found dead after the
attack. This was one of the most significant locations in All of Algoron
for him. Death of All he knew, and the start of a brand new life. He
reached down into his pocket of his cloak and clasped his huge fist around
something, saying a small prayer to the heavens. "Drakkara, Goddess of the
Black Moon, and Ruler of Darkness. Be with me now..." .
The adventurine charm was adorned with a trio of ir{pide{psce{pnt raven feathers
bound by strands of his own hair. Piknim took great care to make sure he
understood the relationship between himself and Corvus, the name he had
given to the spectral raven that had been following him around. Wyltte
struggled to understand the relationship between he and Corvus, the bond of
perceived shared memories, and even the physical connection. When he pulled
the three feathers from Corvus, he was able to feel the pull in his own
body, throwing him backwards. Piknim had called it a Psychopomp, which he
had to research. It was historically a spirit which escorted newly departed
souls to the afterlife, but he had never crossed over.
Piknim had used her to magic to fashion the charm so he could speak with
Corvus. Wyltte knew enough to find a place of personal power, and of
vulnerability. There were four such places in this world for him, but this
was the strongest to him personally.
Corvus flitted across the roadway to perch above one long branch that
overlooked the exact spot where his family had been killed. It looked down
at him, those piercing and unblinking ice blue eyes boring through him.
"Corvus..." Wyltte started, looking up at him.
"Caaaaawwwww" it replied. Wyltte held the charm tighter, willing himself to
be heard to Corvus.
"Corvus, hear my words" Wyltte started. "I have need to speak..."
"Like Hell, Kayen. You do not command me. You do not order me. You do not
control this situation." Wyltte bristled at the rebuke, narrowing his eyes
at Corvus. Corvus lowered it's head, cocking it slightly to the left as it
stares down at him.
"I will not sit here and abide your disrespect, spirit. There are questions
I have, but not at the expense of abiding your words." Corvus threw its
head back, a malevolent glee escaping from its throat. It ruffled its
feathers for a moment before returning its gaze to Wyltte.
"Questions, questions, questions, is that All you have? Why do you think
-I- have any answers, hmmm?" At this Corvus jumped down from the high
branch to one that was at Wyltte's eye level. "How about for once, you
don't ask... Just listen."
Wyltte folds his arms across his chest, leaning onto his back foot. "Fair
enough" he simply says, scanning the forest for any who may be listening in,
a habit he had to pick up in the fray. "I am ready to listen." Corvus
raises its body up, almost like an owl as it spreads it wings wide on the
branch.
"We shall see about that, Kayen" Corvus says. "We shall see."
Writer: Wyltte
Date Mon Oct 3 14:26:27 2022
To All Drakkara Imm Cayenna Religion RP Piknim Shadow Verminasia
Subject Spectral Conversations (Part Two)
Wyltte listened for what felt like an eternity to Corvus, recounting
every decision in his life like it was All recorded. The early morning
light faded to high noon, then started to disappear below the horizon.
Wyltte found himself sitting on a rotting log, listening up to the spectral
raven with rapt interest. After some time, he didn't even know if the
conversation was out loud, or if everything was in his mind.
From deep within the northern forest, Wyltte heard the dull, clang of the
first strike of midnight. "You hear that, Kayen?" Corvus says, as it
turns his head towards Verminasia. "That bell tolls for you" it says,
looking back to Wyltte. Only the Black Moon was high in the evening sky,
the absence of light making everything buy Corvus's eyes visible.
"What do you mean?" Wyltte replied, his low-toned voice seeming like a
scream in the desolate forest. His voice was unsure but still steady.
The second bell struck.
"I am here Kayen, because you are on borrowed time. Think of me as your...
Hourglass".
The third bell.
Wyltte stands up, looking at Corvus. "What do you mean, my Hourglass?"
His face was pressed with concern, but not panic. He takes a few steps
closer, only about an arms length away.
The fourth bell.
Corvus folded in its wings and lowered its head again. "The lake, Kayen,
the lake. That was your time. Your zealotry, your reckless abandon, but
most of all, your age."
The fifth bell, then the sixth.
Wyltte reached up his arm towards Corvus, and the spectral raven hopped off
its perch and landed on his forearm. An icy cold was felt where its feet
clawed into his flesh. He lifted Corvus to eye level, their foreheads
almost touching as Corvus continues to speak.
"I was there to guide you, to take you to what is next, but there is
something that tethered you here" Corvus says. Wyltte looked down slightly
at the earthen floor, and noticed he was standing right at the very spot
where he woke up from the attack so many years ago. It is not your time..
Yet. But I cannot leave. I am just as part of you as you are of me."
The seventh bell.
The eighth bell.
The ninth bell.
Wyltte lifts Corvus up and allows it to sit upon his shoulder. He kneels
down, and wild strands of hair fall into his face. The few stars that were
out highlighted the silver streaks.
The tenth bell.
Wyltte placed his hand on the very spot that formed his first memory, a
million feelings ripping through his soul. "There's just not enough time.."
He whispers to himself, the moisture of the wet grass almost stinging his
hand.
The eleventh bell.
Wyltte stood up, and headed up the path towards the dull, strong echo of the
temple bells. Corvus stood on Wyltte's shoulder, their eyes locked in the
same space as he moved forward. "With whatever is left, I will make a
difference... I will be more." He says.
The twelfth and final bell.
"We shall see, Kayen. We shall see."
Writer: Geirhart
Date Mon Oct 3 15:37:14 2022
Writer: Z'szytheis
Date Mon Oct 3 19:20:13 2022
To All Bloodlust Chaos (RP IM Devion Fatale RP)
Subject Restless Thoughts.
The hooded figure can be seen making his way into the jungles of Tropica,
footsteps slushing through the mud. As he stood still by the bramble
fields, seemingly endless vines seem to intertwine. Sheathing his weapons
on his back, clanging can be heard throughout the jungle as he continues to
trek onward. Thoughts racing in his head, "This again.. " He turns at what
seems to be a dead-end, he swats at hanging vines revealing a large symbol
representing the Warp. The symbol hung high and reflecting the sun's rays
as if it's been polished regularly. His footsteps echo loudly within the
empty confines of the Warp. Thoughts entertaining the creature, again..
"The dullness within these halls, nothing to do.. Monotonous. "
As he makes his way into what seems to be the Main Hall, a large tree can be
seen made of unusual material. Blood seeping out from it's barks. He
reaches out to the tree and runs his scaly hands around the bark, "A promise
of liberation.. Feels more like imprisonment. " Placing his hand on a
large branch tempted to break a piece of the tree, "Perhaps a gift shall
suffice. "
Writer: Ruydiez
Date Tue Oct 4 00:05:35 2022
To All Knighthood ( Imm RP Nadrik )
Subject Rain and leather
"I can still smell the rain and leather," he'd said a few days past. Or
had it been weeks? Time seemed to be moving at a frenetic pace and in slow
motion All at once. That will happen when an age passes you by, when the
shadow of despair danced at the edges of your vision.
The flame hung in mid-air where it had remained since the Lord's Hand
arrived. Ruydiez had taken to reflecting by the fireplace, shifting his
gaze between the flame itself and the various maps and models on the grand
table. His finger oft traced a spot on the edge of New Thalos.
Today he spared a glance at the Shield chair, which he had once been given
the honor of gracing. That was many years ago, in a world unmarred by
current blights but marred by others just the same. Each time presents its
own challenges and opportunities, its own dangers and heroes, and this was
no different.
As usual of late, the Aurora beckoned. The call to action radiated through
the Paladin's waking thoughts, purpose pulsing through his awakened soul.
Ever would there be a time for reflection, but the time for decisive action
approached. Rain and leather. Shield and flame.
---
And so through my Crown,
my Lance, my Shield,
and my Purifying Flame,
will All shadows be
driven back and struck low.
---
Writer: Penelopina
Date Tue Oct 4 07:56:04 2022
To All Shalonesti_Clan Shalonesti_Kingdom Immortals Taliena Zandreya
Subject When Life Gives You Lemons!
{pThe shovel went into the ground, dug up a small amount of dirt, tossed it
to the side, and went right back in. It didn't take long to clear aside a
suitable sized hole, but Penny made a point to {pclear out any larger rocks
and obstructions around the hole, then fill it back in with a softer, more
comfortable dirt. She wanted her tree to grow big and strong, after all.
{pAs the old phrase went: "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."{p An
ancient saying (she was positive it went back to Old Serpantol, though she
couldn't find any concrete evidence), it {pwas a proverbial phrase used to
encourage optimism and a positive can-do attitude in the face of adversity
or misfortune. Lemons suggest sourness or difficulty in life (at least,
that was what {ppeople said, Penny loved them. But making lemonade was the
act of turning them into something positive or desirable.
{pAnd that, in a nutshell, could encompass her entire philosophy. So what
better sort of tree to plant than a lemon tree? Picking up the sapling,
Penny set its roots down in the newly dug hole, {pfilled it in, covered in
gentle earth and patted it down, and then made sure to apply a generous and
healthy amount of water. The spot picked would get plenty of sunlight to
ensure the little {ptree would grow big and strong in the months and years to
come.
{pAnd that, of course, was just step one.
"When life gives you lemons..."{p after all.
Writer: Deteryd
Date Tue Oct 4 13:03:34 2022
To All Chaos Malachive Erebaal ( Rp Imm Admin Scorn Malachive )
Subject The Freljier Crusade: Cruelty Unbound (6)
The Chaos lord did not respond to the barbarian's question. He stood still and
watched the fury lines on his face. The creases of his face deepened, warping
the lines on his forehead where the Brand of Chaos was etched into his flesh.
Deteryd watched Kersen's tensing muscles, clenched teeth, and sweating brow
to think of a clever thing to say to ease what the barbarian viewed as a very
grievious act of betrayal.
Compared to the atrocities Deteryd was prepared to commit in the name of Chaos,
the Everchosen, the Abhorrents, and to Malachive, the crime of a lucid cultist
was far greater in his mind. A tool is no good if it has a will of its own. The
elf lord took an even breath and, realizing that much could still go wrong with
this expedition in its fruiting moments, he clenched his hand around the handle
of his wretched-wrought warp axe. The axe reacted to his outpouring of purpose
and chaos magic. The head of the axe enveloped with a red flame brighter than
before. It's edge glowed white hot and its radiance melted a crater into the
snow beneath it in its menace. The light washed upwards to the elf. Deteryd
spoke with a condescending tinge, like a parent talking down to an ungrateful
child.
"You came to me already dead, Kersen, and, through me, you received a new life
and a new purpose. You were just not aware of it yet."
Writer: Wyltte
Date Tue Oct 4 19:04:47 2022
To Drakkara Shadow Verminasia All Cayenna Imm Religion RP
Subject Hourglass
Wyltte laid on the stone bench beneath the arbor, the crimson roses the
only bit of color within sight. He gave a sideways glance to the stone
gargoyle at the end of the bench. Long ago the statue moved, spoke to him,
nearly after the Master had faded into the ether. The gargoyle did not
move, speak, or adjust its position. It sat there as a stone, just like the
heavy weight of the soul within his chest. Unmoving. Unyielding.
Lying next time him was an ornate scroll bound with a {Ppurple ribbon. Wyltte
had been studying its words for half the evening, tired eyes scanning the
crispy texture and embossed ink on the page, every crack burned into his
memory.
{u"III. The power of Darkness ebbs and flows like a great tide and will
consume those who cannot master themselves. She demands reckless ambition
be tempered by the rigid discipline of purpose."
The message from Corvus was quite clear. Wyltte allowed his temper, his
passion, and his grief from the loss of much of what he felt dear to drive
his actions. He had been reckless, an untempered blade. He knew that now
the hourglass of his life was moving forward at a rate he knew was closer to
the final sands than the beginning. He knew {uDrakkara need more than that,
for however much time he had left in Algoron.
Wyltte lifted one bruised and tired hand up to touch his forehead, wiping
away some long strands that had fallen into his face when he laid down on
the bench. The wavy locks had grown so long that he almost looked feral.
His descent to the more wild nature of himself happened after he laid down
the robes of priesthood. He felt uncultured, undisciplined. He felt
uncouth. She demands discipline, to be always prepared.
Wyltte stood up and walked over the old bridge, winds whipping up from the
Chasm of Isolation below. He stood there for a long time peering into the
seemingly endless abyss. This used to be his temple. Though he no longer
wore the robes of a bishop, he ensured he dedicated the space to All of
Darkness. He longed for others whose hearts were dark to see it, that he
could dedicate the space to {uDrakkara, just as he was dedicating himself.
After nearly an hour of standing in self-created stasis, he slowly reached
for the dagger the Dark Lord handed him upon finishing his training. The
grand arcanium dagger was sharp but well worn, a testament to the battles it
had seen before it passed to Wyltte. Grabbing the handle, he raised it to
his neck slowly.
The crisp sound of the cut was lost to the howling winds of the abyss.
Wyltte watched as long segments of his gnarled beard fell into the depths
below, wildly blasted into the air and disappearing forever.
Next, he reached back to the leather chord at the nape of his neck, and with
a quick flick of his wrist, the long hair was in his hands. Wyltte held the
length of wavy locks for a moment before casting it off into the darkness,
several strands now falling into his face. He continued to cut away the
unruly locks to ensure he could see in battle. He reached one weathered
hand up to rub the side of his face, the grizzled beard now sharp and
prickly but well trimmed. He replaced the blade back into his pack, and
gave one final look into the chasm.
The Hourglass of his life may be slipping away, but he would do nothing to
shake the sands any faster than they were already descending.
Writer: Deteryd
Date Tue Oct 4 19:37:10 2022
To All Chaos Malachive Erebaal ( Rp Imm Admin Scorn Malachive )
Subject The Freljier Crusade: Cruelty Unbound (7)
Kersen was unmoved by the display of chaos magic and the words of his former
companion. A heat erupted from the man's body. The sensation was almost indesc-
ribable to him. It began in his belly and travelled to his chest. The tips of
his fingers were both numb and vibrating. Deteryd's words failed to reach him
under the realization that Chaos was not in Freljier to save them from the gods,
but to exploit them for their own purposes. Deceit and betrayal were difficult
concepts for his isolated community to accept. With truth comes survival, and
through lies knocks uncertainty and peril. Kersen had had enough.
He roared and lunged at the Deteryd with his hatchets, but he did not get far.
A tightness gripped his ankles and Kersen nearly fell forward, but something
else groped at his neck from behind. Entangling vines slithered out from under
the snow from around him, grasping at his limbs. Growling through clenched
teeth, he hacked away at the vines only knowing half-way through his frenzy
that the vines were slowly transitioning to thorny bramble that scraped his
skin and cut his flesh. The momentum of his frenzy slowed until he slumped
forward.
He squinted at his adversary. In one hand, Deteryd brandished his burning axe.
In the other was a ranger staff with vines tending from its shaft and burrow-
ing deep into the snowy ground. Deteryd loomed and creased his brow and gave
his axe a menacing lift to train its white-hot edge over Kersen's restrained
legs, "With any luck, you will be a part of something greater than yourself."
The axe descended, Kersen felt a hot pain, a lightness, and then nothing.
Writer: Z'szytheis
Date Wed Oct 5 15:51:51 2022
To All Bloodlust Chaos (RP IMM Devion Fatale)
Subject Restless Thoughts. (II)
Footsteps were heard within the Warp. The sound of company lightened the
creatures mood. "Perfect. Something to do. " Walking towards the vault
room stands the priest adorned in various scaled clothing, Justian, whom he
considered as a friend. Hiding in the shadows, thoughts of prior journeys
raced through his mind. Nordmaar, Marauders. Those stood out the most.
"I'm sorry, my friend. But the time has come to part ways. It's been
monotonous and stagnant. " Z'szytheis revealed himself from the shadows and
Justian spoke, "So, has any reached out to you as of yet? Or just those
you've informed? " The snake chuckled as he replied, "Just those that I've
informed, I've yet to announce my intent to the public. " Justian nods his
head, "I see. I will not stop you from your decision. You are free to do
as you wish. "
Z'szytheis nodded and returned to the shadows, "Perhaps another time, you'll
soon know what my intents were here in the Warp. Be well, Justian. "
Writer: Deteryd
Date Fri Oct 7 11:23:29 2022
To All Chaos Malachive Erebaal ( Rp Imm Admin Scorn Malachive )
Subject The Freljier Crusade: Cruelty Unbound (8)
Henna watched, mouth agape in horror, as Deteryd hacked away at Kersen's legs
until they fell to the ground. Her companion was passed out, suspended from a
netting of thorny bramble and holding him in place. A heat flushed through her
face and she looked around wildly to see other Freljiern cultists getting
dismembered into submission by wild orc cultists. She stood there with her
spear lowered at her side, forgetting where she stood and where she was. Why
are they treating us like the enemy? Henna's thought echoed in her mind with
out end.
A strong hand grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her from her stupor. She
tore herself away and stumbled forward, losing her footing, her spear, and
falling into the bloodied snow. A lumbering orc with a terrible broadsword
gripped with one hand was charging at her. She leapt to her feet and met her
assailant mid-air with a strong dropkick to his face. The orc fell backwards,
but another noticed the struggle and came to his aid. Two orcs glowered as her
like hungry bears anxious for their kill. Henna clenched her teeth and stood
up from her manuever, balling her fists to challenge her aggressors. The orcs
watched the muscular human woman with confusion, unsure as to why this human
woman thought she could resist them.
I'll do what I've always done and protect my home, she resolved.
Valor was a foreign concept to orcs, especially in chaos. They are motivated
by iron, blood, supremacy, and the taste of flesh. The orcs ran at Henna. She
stomped a foot, brandished her fists, and bellowed a warcry to greet them. The
two Chaos orcs collided into her with so much force the wind was knocked from
her lungs. Her head whiplashed. All she could see were stars. With a groan,
she fell beneath the weight of the orcs and blacked out.
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