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Writer: Trylum
Date Sun Nov 30 12:33:31 2014
Writer: Erebaal
Date Mon Dec 1 03:13:03 2014
To Chaos All Malachive ( Storyline Scorn )
Subject Musings and Promises
In the shade, where nothing was meant to thrive, stood an edifice that
should have never been. A monument of blood and bone, it oozed and wept
ichor from boles and knots, dotted intrusions that bubbled with sticky
vitae. It was not of a natural world, a canker that fed on the life of
Algoron. In its perverted shadow sat a man, greater and less than the
construct, garbed only in the roughspun robes of a cultist-acolyte, an
affectation not chosen through humility, but through necessity as the
shapeless gowns of the half ogres were All that could contain his grotesque
physique, human musculature swollen to unsightly proportions, knotting his
limbs and making his scarred flesh ripple in manners that appeared painful
to the few that dared intrude on the Everchosen during his periods of
brooding.
A change had come over the man, mere weeks and yet centuries ago as well. A
transformation that he had not wished for, but needed All the same. The
tainted blood that had passed his lips had twisted him, bending his mind to
see above the fog of crazed mania that he had rampaged within for years.
Where he had once seen but the vague notions of what he journeyed toward,
the true details and nature obscured by the bloody haze of madness and
bloodlust, his sight had been restored, reason tempered with that self-same
fury to forge a new man from the bestial ruins of the old. He had become
more than a soldier and a man that day, but a leader and a lord, a wielder
of the powers of Chaos that still rested dormant within the corrupted heart
of the Warp.
The secrets within, the strength that he heard promise of, faint whispers at
the edge of hearing, elicited a hunger. Despite the healing of his broken
mind, the voices remained. Once he would have obeyed their manic demands
blindly, now he understood their purpose and understood their speaker. A
thick fingertip ran along the spine of the tome that rest on the stone floor
before him, its cover bound in human flesh. Stretched tight across its
cover were the features of a man, aged beyond measure and worn by
experiences that would have annihilated any other man, the Everchosen
included. His body destroyed, his essence had survived, manifested in a
tome that now yielded to the will of the Champion of Chaos. Its power was
great, the mere act of possession granting power beyond that of the common
soldier the Everchosen was and even the lumbering champion that supplanted
the slave. The book's human features twitched and a half-heard snort
emanated from the binding, the cover trembling but remaining closed.
Despite All of this, the being's essence retained a semblance of life. It
still spoke. It still slept. It still kept its secrets.
The Everchosen's focus turned upon the pages filling the tome's passages,
the cover refusing to yield in its slumber despite his attempts. Whatever
words were penned within were beyond his grasp, whatever power those words
commanded lost until the book awoke once more. His lip curled and a growl
sounded low in his throat, the heat of fury welcome in his breast as he
pondered the remains of the most powerful mortal on Algoron. He and his
brothers fought a battle on scales that were beyond laughable, and while
their victories were satisfying, rarely were they truly telling, and rarely
did the world take more than passing, haughty notice of the glorious
bloodshed that sustained the construct which he sat beneath.
It All came down to power, the power to destroy. The power to purge, to
break, and to reap. To harvest a bounty of unworthy souls and upset the
balance of the world. The power possessed by so very few, one of whom lay
just within reach, but out of his grasp.
The Everchosen snarled and took to his bare feet, scooping up the tome and
making for the darkened catacombs of the Warp. He disliked being without
his armor when it received its cursory repairs. Losing himself in the
depths of the Warp, Erebaal growled, only the voices and the somnolent
Seanan for company.
Writer: Elrei
Date Mon Dec 1 21:50:51 2014
To All Trylum Meki Skylla Taliena ( Imm RP )
Subject Seen but not (yet) heard
"This is Trylum."
Trylum was a young wemic, another cub taken in by Meki, of about eight
summers. About four years ago, he'd been injured: a blow to the throat that
had since prevented him from speaking. In All honesty, Elrei didn't
consider Trylum's chances of recovering, at this point, to be particularly
good. Four years meant it may have already healed incorrectly, making such
a prospect tricky at best. Then again, it may have simply stunted some
growth which could be rectified with time. And, Trylum was still very
young, and the young are, despite their vulnerabilities, very resilient and
good at bouncing back from illness and injury.
Elrei inspected the young wemic's throat, asking questions as he prodded
and tested. It had never been treated by anyone before now, so there was no
concern, at least, over incorrect healing practices being applied. That
Trylum could still produce a purr from deep in the chest, Elrei took as a
good sign. Even better was that he could, with effort, produce a tiny
amount of sound from the mouth.
"At the moment, and given the sound you made, I might hazard a problem
with the vocal folds, rather than the lower part of the throat... I think
you have a very good chance of recovery yet. However, it will take a bit of
work on your part."
Exercises, to build up resilience in the vocal folds. As a former
long-time member of the jongleur's guild, twice over, Elrei knew about vocal
exercises. He offered licorice drops, in case of overexertion, though they
apparently were not the child's favorite sort of treat. No accounting for
taste, Elrei supposed.
And, beyond All this, blessings of recovery and endurance. Silently,
Elrei prayed to his Goddess, "Mother, this child is brought to me lacking a
voice, caused by an injury to the throat when he was but four years old. I
pray these blessings may aid his recovery and restore what has been lost."
This would be the longer, but least traumatic course. Elrei hoped it
would be sufficient.
Writer: Cieran
Date Tue Dec 2 12:54:26 2014
Writer: Trylum
Date Tue Dec 2 17:41:06 2014
To All Elrei Trylum Meki Skylla Taliena ( Imm RP )
Subject Getting his Voice
Trylum talks to noone. Sitting in the grass, Trylum sits and talks to
the tree and never utters a sound. Concentration on moving his vocal
chords, willing them to make a sound, anything. Over and over in his mind
he hears Meki say they need to be broken again to be fixed. Trylum knows
Elrei means well, but... Can blessings really do the impossible? Well,
thats taking too long. Theres things he wants to say, things he has to say.
Time to do this himself. Standing he hurries to the donation pits, flinging
things from one pile to another looking for something. Finding it runs out
to the temple to the first person he sees. Great. Its the King Himself.
Well, he'll have to do. Thrusting the elven stick into the kings hands he
doesn't wait to lose his nerve. Straightening the kings arm to just short
of his head he uses the King's puzzlement to be sure he will stay just.
Like. That. Backing up clear into the crafters room he runs full tilt at
Arthais's outstretched arm and the stick he holds. WAHM! When he thought
of this idea, he didn't realize it would hurt this much. Writhing on the
floor Trylum clutches his throat, gasping for breath he tries to stand but
falls back to the floor. Looking up at Arthais, he looks horrified. Poor
guy.
Getting back to his feet, he concentrates really hard and starts talking to
Arthais. It didn't work, no sounds come out. Taking his stick back he
walks into the temple rubbing his throat, fighting against the tears that
are threatening to overwhelm him, that really hurt. He feels so foolish.
Stabbing the stick into the ground, Trylum just stares at it, rubbing his
throat and trying to figure out why he failed.
Writer: Thesh
Date Wed Dec 3 16:00:07 2014
Writer: Lunez
Date Wed Dec 3 16:22:57 2014
To All New_Thalos Randorf Azzure Marcaus Telthian Bodrum Imm (Surviving Elite Gladiators: Eamenoth Thesh )
Subject Chronicles of Thesh Dridesh (4) - Breaking Chains, The First Fight
The goblinoid fighter sat alone in his wing of the New Thalos coliseum
which had been set aside for only him. Hunched over on his knees he
carefully and deliberately drew the surroundings of his home land into the
sand. Hearing the chants for a fight getting louder and louder, the goblin
clenched a handful of sand in his fist and slowly let it drain out...
Slowing time as he watched each grain fall.
A drunken dwarf appeared behind him, "Aet bae toim teh march ter yer death.
Up ye go, an ah'll bae placin mae wager safelae on teh elf ye git." As
Thesh made his way to the arena, All the chants that weren't coming from New
Thalosians seemed to be favoring the elf. Some were mocking his master,
calling him a fool for sending in such a weak breed.
As he was lead to the preparation room, he could hear the tallies being made
as to how many people had bet on the goblinoid. The number of bets placed
on him totalled 11. Chants and bellows came out from the crowd, cheering on
their favored elitist, which was not Thesh.
Piece by piece, Thesh prepared his armament. Either this fight would be one
step closer to avenging his family.. Or it would send him straight to his
family in the afterlife.
FIGHT! The crowd went wild with enthusiasm and leapt from their seats as
the fight started. Both fighters testing the waters as to the skill of the
opponent. After one another determined that fight would be a difficult one
the fight began in grand scale. The elf managed to stab him in the flank
and draw the energy out of his body. This managed nothing other than to
enrage Thesh. Mentally he told his spirit fighter to pound the elf with his
horns until nothing remained of him. Sensing mortal danger, the elf
retreated and gathered his own elemental fighters.
Each fighter grew exhausted from the match, but the spirit managed to cleave
him in the guts hard enough to render him incapable of continuing. Hegeta
appeared in the arena and commended the fighters, but reminded Thesh that
Morith was to die.
Thesh slowly treaded over towards the doomed elf, and speared him through
the base of the skull to make the end as quick as possible. With All of his
might, he planted the spear into the ground for All to see the head of his
fallen opponent.
Writer: Amex
Date Fri Dec 5 16:11:06 2014
Writer: Elrei
Date Fri Dec 5 19:13:47 2014
Writer: Frederyk
Date Fri Dec 5 20:41:26 2014
Writer: Frederyk
Date Fri Dec 5 21:15:55 2014
Writer: Amex
Date Sat Dec 6 05:03:08 2014
Writer: Jesamaine
Date Sat Dec 6 20:31:16 2014
To All IMM RP
Subject Long Lost Brother * A tribute to Savras Shadowblade *
Jesamaine traveled far and wide in search for her brother Savras. She
was told he had gone to Shokono for some special herbs, so she took the ship
to Shokono and headed after him. She watched as the shore grew closer, the
closer it got, the more anxious she would get. The ship docked and she
bounded down to the platform as quickly as she could hoping, by chance, she
could catch a glimpse of him as he walked by. To her disappointment, he was
not anywhere to be seen.
She climbed the hills into the city of Shokono and asked as many people as
she could about Savras, but no one had seen him. Jesamaine finally found a
strange shop that sold some odds and ends, nothing really special, but
interesting in ways. On a shelf she saw some powders All different colors
and All different sizes, quite interesting, she thought as she asked the
young lady about Savras. "He was here about two weeks ago." She said "He
said he was going to Dojia." The young woman smiled as Jesamaine turned
and headed out the door.
Jesamaine reached the docks again hoping that maybe she would catch Savras
waiting for a ship to get home, he was nowhere to be seen. She walked the
winding paths All the way into Dojia going house to house, asking every
villager if they had seen Savras and, if they had, where could he be now,
but no one knew anything. She wandered around every village asking for him
when finally she ran into an elderly dojian gentleman, "Good day Sir, Have
you seen my brother Savras Shadowblade? He is a tall elf, looks rather
distinguished, in a long robe, and looks a lot like me?" She said. The
gentleman looked at her very closely, his eyes squinting "Ah yes! Savras
Shadowblade! I have known him for many many years. He took care of my
family for a long time. Many Family. Why do you look for him here?" He
asked. "I was told he was here in Dojia so I came looking for him. Is he
still here I would love to see him?" She looked at him excitedly. "I am
afraid he is not little Shadowblade. He has gone back to Arkane." He
looked at he sadly as he saw the look of disappointment in her eyes.
Jesamaine was back on the ship on her way back to Arkane her hopes of
finding her brother starting to waver as she saw the docks getting further
and further away. She looked down at the sea exhaustedly, each league
taking a bit more energy from her, as she started to see land ahead. She
sighed as she prayed that her trip back to Arkane would not be a lost cause.
As the ship docked, she walked over to the platform slowly, she wondered why
she was so hesitant, but walked towards the kingdom of Arkane. She made her
way through the center of the city and something made her go south.
She walked towards the shopping district but, heard her name whispered in
the wind out of the south gate, it was Savras's voice or she thought. She
followed the voice into the woods where she came close to something that
looked like a table made of lovely greens, vines, and flowers. It was such
a beautiful display she could not resist walking towards it. Two druids
were standing at each side chanting words she could not understand, but
making her feel an inner peace in her heart that she never felt before.
Jesamaine walked closer to the greens and as she looked down she found her
brother Savras. "Do not worry young Shadowblade for your brother Savras did
not suffer, he passed peacefully in his sleep and is now of the Gods."
Jesamaine nodded at the druid looking down at his peaceful face. "I shall
never forget you my friend, my companion, my brother."
* Dedicated to Brian Henry my best friend may he rest in peace. *
Writer: Erebaal
Date Mon Dec 8 03:57:00 2014
To All Bloodlust Chaos ( Malachive Scorn Immortal Storyline )
Subject Blood and Mayhem
Dread chuckling filled the great hall of the Warp, emanating from a lone
figure who stood in full battle regalia, his battered armor scorched and
blackened in places, crusted with dried blood in others. His body was clad
in steel, his gauntlets tipped with claws, his skull encased in iron, his
boots shod in metal. From his gauntlets dripped blood, rich and pungent.
It oozed and it spattered on the ground, caking the metal joints of his
armored hands, and it smeared nicely as the man daubed upon the monument
that dominated the heart of the Warp.
Metallic screeches keened as the Everchosen completed his gruesome work.
The killing had been good that day. He had claimed his own, and he had lent
his hand to more. They had died shrieking and screaming, panicking in their
haste to flee the wrath of the darkened. The sound of the priestess' death
rattle in particular raised his lifeless lips in the grim facsimile of a
pleased grin. The wench had proven a thorn through repeated battles.
Shedding blood readily but always retreating. Always hiding. Always
needing her praetorians. When the Horde had arrived, it had been no contest
whatsoever.
The screeching stopped as the Everchosen paused, considering his work and
the events of battle. The Horde was not trustworthy, to be certain.
Lap-dogs of Fatale, craving death in All respects. That aim, he could
respect, but their vision remained too narrow. They killed because they
were commanded to, not of their own volition. They had strength of body,
but not of character. They would strip the earth clean, in time, but they
would never strike a true deathblow. Their own lives were held too dear.
Gauntlets clicked and clattered as he raised his other hand to brush it
against the monument, eliciting more screeches as he daubed a second design,
the macabre mirror of the first.
If there were to be consequences for this night, they would not fall upon
his head. He was a warrior, a man of the field who reaped the blood of the
meek to bring to this place to offer upon the monument. His actions were
above reproach, his will aligned with the lost whim of a dead patron, a
fallen father, a brother lost to war. The deeds of his allies of
convenience...
The Everchosen chuckled, scraping his claws down the monument, flinging
blood in a messy pattern upon the thorny edifice. He raked his arm in three
more rough motions, spattering the crude design and laughing gutturally now.
The ugly sound was steeped in malice. If the warriors of the Horde were
visited by their wretched patrons and held true... They could yet find the
seeds of a Champion within them.
'And if they crumble... Then no matter. The way remains clear. '
The Everchosen stepped back to consider his handiwork. Two eight-pointed
stars stared back at him, dark red stark against the bone white of the
construct that loomed over him. He cocked his head and listened for the
murmur, the faint playing on the edge of hearing that affirmed his thoughts.
This night, the voices were incoherent, murmurs that meant nothing but
promised madness. Grunting and turning away, the Everchosen stalked back
into the Warp's underbelly, satisfied with the deed, if not the results. He
had nothing but time, and the world had plenty of offerings yet to make. He
would find the right one, if it took a lifetime.
Writer: Ulrog
Date Mon Dec 8 19:02:41 2014
Writer: Ulrog
Date Mon Dec 8 19:04:35 2014
Writer: Tyrinx
Date Tue Dec 9 00:27:40 2014
Writer: Elkentaur
Date Wed Dec 10 18:43:02 2014
To All Arkane Arthais Drakkara ( Imm RP )
Subject Alone with his thoughts.
He sat alone in the library at the desk he used to use when he was Wizard
of the Azure Tower staring at the wall, seeing nothing but the images in his
head. Images of days long past, Of Jarinard and his days in Arkane, as a
trusted friend, then as a trusted King. Of Stormina, a better ally in
battle would be hard found back then. Of Launy, her friendship was of the
purest kind. He had known them all, fought beside them all, bled for them
all.
Arkane seemed to him a diminished thing, a stepping stone for most. The
current King, Arthais... While a good man and expert in warfare, seems very
much not a part of the Kingdom itself anymore. While this happens from time
to time without exception, this time seemed... Different.
Elkentaur stares out into the nothing, wondering how long a Kingdom ruled by
an unseen force can last?
Sighing heavily Elkentaur then heads back down the tower stairs to the
Healer's Chambers, ready to get back to work. Pushing the disturbing
thoughts from his mind. For now.
Writer: Ulrog
Date Fri Dec 12 14:59:01 2014
Writer: Tief
Date Fri Dec 12 21:46:22 2014
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Sat Dec 13 11:26:17 2014
To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din
Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Flashback: Ooof Meets Yarbles)
Feeling compelled to reward himself, the newly named Vice-President of
Humanoid Resources gave himself the afternoon off. Closing his office door
gingerly behind him, he made his way from the aging Ixi-Mart Worldwide
Headquarters building, and strode out onto the plain to the north. The
noonday sun's rays felt good on the ogre's hulking bones. However, he did
not expect to see another person on the undeveloped plain, let alone the odd
creature he laid his eyes upon, after following the pronounced yelling and
cracking sounds that drew his attention.
''WooooOOOOoooOOnnnnNNNN!!! TwoooOOOoOooOO!!!! THREE!!!!! '' *smash*
Ooof quietly observed the most unusual hill dwarf from about ten yards away.
He was standing next to what appeared to be the top of a large boulder,
protruding from the earth's surface. The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit
watched in curious silence for several minutes, as the dwarf repeated his
previous actions over and over.
Again, the dwarf shouted his count, and again, he smashed his forehead into
the immovable boulder with ludicrous force. After a split second of stunned
silence, a huge smile grew upon his face, and be began to dance about
haphazardly. Several seconds later, his revelry abated, the happy dwarf set
himself and began the ritual once again.
It didn't take a Vice-President of Humanoid Resources to see that this was
no ordinary dwarf. This dwarf, was 'special'. Concerned that the little
dwarf would seriously injure himself, Ooof called out to him.
'Hey, yuz! Why yuz headbuttin that rock? Wut dat rock ever do to yuz?! '
Momentarily distracted by the ogre's words, the dwarf turned to face Ooof.
Smiling and waving frantically, he shouted back.
''Hiyo! I Yarbles!! '' And with that, Yarbles turned to face his nemesis,
the boulder, once again.
'Erm, okies, Yarbelz. So uh, why yuz out here headbuttin--'
''WooooOOOOoooOOnnnnNNNN!!! TwoooOOOoOooOO!!!! THREE!!!!! '' *smash*
The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit pondered Yarbles thoughtfully.
Clearly, this dwarf had been 'touched by the gods'. But it seemed unusual
and unwise to Ooof, that he would be All the way out here, unaccompanied.
He shouted out to any that might hear him.
'HEY! Anyonez lose a... Um, special dwarf? One that likez headbuttin'
rocks over an over? '
He received no answer, save for the noise made by the dancing Yarbles. The
dwarf set himself once more to tackle the boulder.
'WooooOOOOoooOOnnnnNNNN!!! TwoooOOOoOoo-'
'Hey, wait a minute! '
Yarblez halted his count and turned to regard the Vice-President of Humanoid
Resources once more, a blank expression on his face.
'So, yuz hungry? Gut food and ale back at Headquarters. Give yuz place to
sleep if you needs to. Then wez try to finds out where yuz are supposed to
be. Sound gud? '
Eventually processing the question offered to him, Yarblez's blank
expression faded, replaced by a broad smile.
''Okay! '' Yarblez quickly ambled to Ooof's side, and they leisurely made
their way back to Headquarters.
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Sat Dec 13 11:53:37 2014
To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din
Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Three)
'So, yuz see, '' The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit offered, ''Ooof nut
kidnap Yarblez. Ooof find him All alone in the middle of nowherez. Give
himz food, and a place to sleep. Take real gud care of him. Give him
somethings to do. Nut hurt him. '
Canicon furrowed his brow, as he listened to the ogre's words while they
descended from the top of the Ixi-Mart Tower. His expression was
significantly less virulent than it had been just moments before.
'Well, if wot ye bae tellin me bae true, then ah suppose I should bae
thankin ye. I've been lookin everywhere for him. Who knows what could've
happened to that simpleton out there. '
The ogre regarded Canicon solemnly. ''Yuz his brother. Whatz his deal?
Nut get Ooof wrong. Yarblez real nice and gud worker. But, what happened
to Yarblez? ''
The large dwarf sighed audibly, then offered his explanation.
'Aye, he bae me brother. Me younger brother. Our mother died while
birthin' him. The elders, they managed to deliver him successfully. But he
was in there for quite some time with nae oxygen. Clearly, it has affected
him. '
''Anyway, '' Canicon continued, ''I've been lookin after him ever since.
And sure. -Maaaaybe- I get into the ale too much sometimes. And -maaaaybe-
sometimes I pass out an he wanders off. But, someone's always brought im
back! Noone's ever been crazy enough to keep him before. Until now! ''
* ding! *
The elevator cab came to a complete halt, and its doors slowly opened,
revealing what appeared to be some sort of factory area. Ooof strode from
the cab.
'Okies. Fifth floor. Production Floor 'B'. Come. Yuz see. Yarblez
perfectly fine. '
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Sat Dec 13 12:28:15 2014
To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din
Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Four)
''WoooooOOOOOoooOOOooNNNnNNNNN!!!! TwoooOOOooOOoOOOOO!!!! TREEE!!!! ''
*loud metallic smashing*
Yarbles held the now dented steel neckguard up to the light, scrutinizing
it. Judging it to be up to snuff, he gently placed the peice down on the
right of the table at which he stood. He clapped his hands and danced
merrily for a few seconds, then reached into the crate to his left, pulling
out a new, pristine neckguard, placing it directly in front of him.
'See? Yarblez jus fine. Enjoy his job. Does gud work. Getz gud pay. '
'Aye, an I wouldn't have believed it if ah hadn't seen it with mah own eyes.
'' Canicon replied, seemingly quite impressed. ''Why, look him go! '
''WoooooOOOOOoooOOOooNNNnNNNNN!!!! TwoooOOOooOOoOOOOO!!!! TREEE!!!! ''
*loud metallic smashing*
The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit walked out from behind the partition
from which he and the dwarf were observing, prompting Canicon to follow.
'Hey, Yarblez. It's break time. Come seez who I brought with mez. '
The mentally challenged dwarf turn his head to regard Ooof and his brother.
A broad smile grew on his face.
It was Canicon that spoke first. ''Yarbles, ye dimwit, I finally found ye!
''
Yarblez waved his little arms frantically. ''Hiya Ooof! Hiya Canny! I
Yarbles! ''
'Ye sure are, brother! An look at ye! A workin dwarf! Noone in the
village would e'er believe it! '
Canicon sighed and continued. ''Ah, well. I suppose we should be gettin
back to the village already. Everyone's been worried sick about ye. Come
on, Yarbles. Let's go home! ''
A confused look crept upon Yarbles's face, as his gaze vacillated between
the Vice-President and his brother. This, in turn, prompted a look of
concern from the ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit.
'I dunno, '' Ooof offered delicately. ''Yarblez look like him nut know if
he wants to go or stay. '
Canicon's visage immediately became one of disbelief, bordering on outrage.
He turned to the Vice-President, visibly upset.
'Ye cannae be serious! Ye can't just keep him here! '
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Sat Dec 13 13:16:39 2014
To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din
Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Five)
Canicon took a deep breath and quickly composed himself. He took into
consideration the ogre's genuine affection for Yarbles, before he continued.
'Look, lad. I can clearly see your heart bae in the right place. Ye and
yer Ixi-Mart seem to have taken great care for him, and for that, I am
forever grateful. But, look at 'im an' think about it! He can barely
function outside o' the paramaters that ye have set fer him! '
'He bae a good worker an' friend to ye, but his condition cannae improve
over time. It will only get worse as he gets older. '
The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit pondered Canicon's words thoughtfully,
offering no reply.
'He needs to bae with his own kind, lad! '' Canicon pleaded. ''He needs to
bae back with us in his village. The elders. They know how to take care of
him. Give 'im the best life he can have! '
The Vice-President of Humanoid Resources weighed the dwarf's words seriously
for several moments. After serious consideration, he conceded that Canicon
was right. Yarbles needed to be with his own kind. Ooof sighed and silenty
nodded his agreement to the dwarf, then turned his attention to Yarbles,
still frozen in uncertainty.
'He's right, Yarblez. Yuz did gud work every day. Yuz help Ixi-Mart lots
and lots. But now, yuz need to go with your brother Canny. Him and your
village need yuz. '
Yarbles's gaze briefly flashed between Ooof and Canicon, finally settling
upon his brother. He clapped happily, moving to his brother's side.
'Yuz can come back to Ixi-Mart whenever you want to visit, Yarbles. Yuz gud
friend. '
The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit paused for a moment, then turned to
address Canicon once again.
''Almost forgot. '' The hulking ogre reaching into his lapel pocket and
pulled out a tablet of paper and a pencil.
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Sat Dec 13 13:34:45 2014
To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din
Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Six)
"Yuz see, '' the Vice-President continued. ''Yarblez has a sizable
amount of moneyz saved fer All his hard work. But, him nut really
understand moneys. First payday, Ooof give him blue diamond. He headbutt
it to pieces. Since then, Ooof put his money aside fer him, in special
account. Him not need money while him here though. We gives him good
meals, and a nice room in one of the underground floors of der tower. Nut
charge. So here. ''
The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit scrawled a message and a number on the
top sheet of the tablet. He then tore the page off and handed it to
Canicon.
'Take this up to Accounts Payable, on der 18th floor. They'll give yuz
every last silver Yarbles earned. Use for expenses for you and Yarbles and
your village. Just make sure yuz and der other dwarves take gud care of
him, yuh? '
Canicon accepted the paper and upon inspection, his eyes bugged out in
disbelief.
'Great Turpa's ghost! '' Canicon said, absolutely dumbfounded. ''How could
'e have earned All of this, in but a little more than a single year?! '
Ooof smiled softly. ''Ooof tells yuz. Yarblez great worker. Yuz and your
village should find a way to keep him working. He loves helpin out and
being a part of things. ''
Canicon blinked in amazement, still in shock over the sum of money his
brother had earned. Quickly composing himself, he replied.
'Aye, lad. Me an the boys will take great care o him. You've my word.
Come on, brother. Let's go home! '
Yarbles turned to Ooof once more, waving happily. ''Bye bye! '' with that,
he and his brother made their way towards the elevator.
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Sat Dec 13 14:02:13 2014
To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din
Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Part Seven)
The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit waved as the two dwarves entered the
elevator cab and its doors slowly shut behind them. He turned to the now
empty workstation, laden with freshly dented steel neckguards. Some
distance behind the workstation, a single custodial worker swept quietly.
'Hey yuz! With der broom! Come over here, please. '
The nondescript man in blue coveralls gently leaned his broom against the
wall and approached the Vice-President cautiously.
'Yes, sir? '
'What's yer name? '
'My name? I-it's Feldi, sir. '
The hulking ogre grunted his understanding and continued. ''Feldi, Ooof
wunt see you make dented steel neckguard. Let's see what yuz can do. ''
'M-me? O-okay... '
Feldi stood in front of the table and reached into the crate to his left,
pulling out a brand new steel neckguard, and slowly placing it directly in
front of him. He rested his palms upon the tabletop and began to count
apprehensively.
'O-one..... T-two... '
The ogre in the grey-pinstriped suit quickly placed his meaty palm over the
neckguard, interrupting Feldi's count.
'Hey, waitz! '' The hulking ogre interrupted. ''What the hell yuz doing?!
'
The bewildered and now slightly terrified custodian looked up at the
Vice-President blankly.
Ooof rolled his eyes in mind annoyance, tinged with amusement. He reached
into a cubby hole under the tabletop and pulled out a large, wooden mallet
with a rounded head. He thrust the mallet into Feldi's hand.
'There. Use dat. '
Feldi sighed and returned his gaze to the neckguard before him. He raised
the mallet high in the air, and brought it down across the side of the
neckguard with a loud, metallic clang. Ooof reached over and grabbed the
now dented neckguard and inspected it in the light. Satisfied, he placed it
down with the finished pieces on the right of the table.
'Congraturlations, yuz been promoted. I'll have HR start der paperwork. '
With that, the Vice-President turned on his heel and lumbered across the
production floor, back towards the elevator, leaving the former janitor to
stare after him in disbelief.
Writer: Ulrog
Date Sun Dec 14 00:34:39 2014
Writer: Deccan
Date Sun Dec 14 19:34:31 2014
Writer: Asyrlin
Date Sun Dec 14 21:49:34 2014
Writer: Asyrlin
Date Sun Dec 14 21:52:24 2014
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Tue Dec 16 13:46:16 2014
To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din
Subject Tales From Mart-Town "Yarbles's Story" (Epi-Log)
'Nowwww, thazz whot ah callz a celbrashshnnn! '' Canicon slurred as he
threw the front door open and stumbled in his modest shack, Yarbles in tow.
''It bae good ta havve ye back, Brotstherrrr... '
The mentally challenged hill dwarf panned his gaze in bewilderment around
the crude shack, his mouth agape.
'I Yarbles! '
'Yer damMmmnnnnNnn risght ye are!! An' look at ye! A workin dwarf!!
Ahmmmm srooooo prood o yee! '
Yarbles looked on happily as the sublimely intoxicated dwarf collapsed into
a raggedy chair in the corner of the shack with a undignified thud.
'Tommmorrrwww, youan i aregonnNNnaaaa resshvvvmmsasmmm.... '
Yarbles stared blankly at his now unconscious brother, snoring loudy in the
chair before him. After several minutes, he turned his head, noticing the
front door was still wide open. He walked up to the door and pulled up in
front of it, leaning over to blow out the lantern sitting on a nearby table.
He turned to regard his brother once more, waving happily.
''Bye Bye! '' Yarbles shouted, then turned and scampered off into the
night.
Writer: Amex
Date Wed Dec 17 20:40:39 2014
Writer: Nathalos
Date Thu Dec 18 20:48:59 2014
Writer: Ashbie
Date Sun Dec 21 18:58:11 2014
Writer: Ulrog
Date Sun Dec 21 23:34:35 2014
Writer: Brawnwyn
Date Tue Dec 23 23:18:56 2014
Writer: Zola
Date Fri Dec 26 17:06:11 2014
Writer: Zola
Date Fri Dec 26 17:15:58 2014
To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Immortals Fatale Ferg
Subject X Waking the Dead X
Dark, chill and musty, the dark tunnels of Bloodlusts infamous Dungeon
were meant to intimidate and shadow activity within. In this particular
hallway, a lone candle was lit, illuminating the kneeling priest and the
statue of his God above him. The Lord of Murder, Fatale.
For the longest time, during his evening prayers, he was alone. It was only
towards the end of them that another presence joined the priest in the hall
before the statue, moving so silently he almost seemed to step right out of
the shadows.
"Zola?"
At least he had waited until Zola's prayers had finished. Head bowed before
the statue of Fatale, the dark priest rose to his feet and turned his
soulless gaze on the other. It was Ferg, one of the Blood Ragers. A strong
ally, but not one of the faithful... And this was, Zola sensed, no mere
request for aid in the field of battle. Something else was at work here.
"What can I do for you, Ferg?" Zola rasped.
"I want to learn more about Fatale," Ferg replied.
They spoke at length on a great many topics, about faith, about purpose,
about destiny. The Blood Rager spoke of a powerful discontentment with
Raijes teachings and his followers. How everything in life had started to
feel... hollow.
And Zola realized with that word exactly what had happened. He knew of
these. Members of His Church had occasionally referred to them as the
walking dead. Those going through the motions in life, unable to properly
enjoy it, unable to find proper purpose. They just fought and killed but
they had no true appreciation for what that meant. They were the walking
dead waiting to be put out of their misery. Either killed by a true
believer... or woken.
"Enough of this, " the masked priest declared. "You know the truth as well
as I do. Your heart and soul scream for proper death. For pain, for fear,
for blood. You do not need me to tell you what you already know. "
He gestured to one of the unlit braziers, and a blaze of hellfire lit up the
bronze bowl. Eerie red light cast darker shadows along the walls of the
Dark Tunnel.
"Cast off the lie, and embrace His divine truth," Zola said, indicating the
burning brazier.
The great beast reached up and grasped the medallion around his neck. The
one he'd worn since he was young, blindly swallowing the lies of Raije, the
hollow victories and pointless battles. He took it off, and cast it into
the flames. He needed it no longer.
"How do you feel?" asked the Deacon, watching him with a soulless gaze.
The savage Ferg thoughtfully considered a moment before replying "More alive
than ever," with a toothy grin.
Behind his ever-present mask, Zola grinned with savage joy. Another one had
seen the truth and joined the ranks of Fatales faithful. Another had been
awoken. He knelt down and began to offer up his prayers to Lord Fatale for
helping another see the truth.
Writer: Zola
Date Fri Dec 26 17:41:24 2014
To All Bloodlust Abaddon Verminasia Immortals Fatale Ferg
Subject X Waking the Dead (II) X
Many thought incorrectly that to be a truly faithful follower of Fatale,
one had to be miserable, to hate life with a passion, even their own.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Fatalites recognized that All life
ended, and so they sought to make their own meaningful.
And Ferg went on to do just that.
Within days his zeal had gone into overdrive, he often had to bodily pulled
from the field of battle, his blades soaked in blood, his enemies dying in
agony. This did not go unnoticed by great Warlord of the Dungeon. Azheri
brought Ferg into his inner circle of leadership, making him an Overlord of
Bloodlust. A truly auspicious occasion.
The following evening found Zola deep in prayer again, as he had for many
previous nights and would for many to come. Though a great change had been
wrought for Ferg, the priest who had guided him had yet more work to do of
his own. They All did, All of Fatale's faithful had a part to play. So
many more to kill, so many more to enlighten. As Zola stared into the
single flickering flame of his lit candle, he saw past and through it,
recieving a vision of a great, blazing inferno. Washing over Algoron,
burning cities, beasts, people. It seemed now to blaze just a little bit
mightier than before. A little bit brighter, a little bit hotter.
And it was glorious to behold.
Writer: Ashbie
Date Sat Dec 27 23:45:43 2014
To Verminasia All Marcaus
Subject Raising Hell: Enter Fairburrow I
Ashbie swung herself up and over the railing of a small ship named the
Spirit of Rage. Her own personal vessel, it was a tiny ship, insignificant
to the great galleys of the kingdoms, but useful enough for her purposes.
Taking a length of rope trailing from the ship, she moored it to a dock,
giving the knot a firm tug to test its security. Satisfied, Ashbie began to
walk towards the capital of Camaraenaus. It was a simple, small city, no
more than a town truly, but it was growing and thriving under the leadership
of her parents.
It was an odd thing in truth. While her father was an Admiral and her
mother was a Captain, they both preferred a more laid-back approach to
leadership that would have seemed at ill-odds with what Camaraenaus had
clearly needed when they arrived. Yet, somehow, they made it work. Much of
the day to day work was now seen over by her twin brother, Randal, who had
retired from the city to a quiet life managing the family's holdings as
steward.
Ashbie couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of her
brother. They had been inseparable when they were younger, but Ashbie had
constantly abandoned him as soon as her teenage years rolled in -- and that
particular ship never seemed to dock for long. Their correspondence of late
had also fallen apart so that Ashbie wasn't even sure what her twin was
thinking or doing. Their connection was almost completely severed. She
couldn't help but wonder what her reception would be at the manor.
Lukewarm? Was her brother eager to see her again? Ashbie had sent a missive
in advance of her arrival to announce her coming, but she hadn't waited for
a response.
Indigo was the first thing that struck Ashbie as she took in the small
city-town from the dock. Fields of indigo pushed right up against the
river and continued, almost swallowing Fairburrow in their entirety. Only
the few, visible ostrich farms on the outskirts managed to break up the
vibrant hue. Ashbie found it quite lovely, she stood there for some time
simply staring at it, trying to remember the murky, muddy backwater town
she had first set eyes on.
"Erm, ma'am?" A voice spoke up, quietly, almost as if afraid of what her
response to its interruption might be.
Ashbie turned her gaze away from Fairburrow and looked down at a mousy man
with a mess of curly brown hair atop his head and a pair of large bifocals
perched on a bulbous nose that complemented his round face. She immediately
recognized the man as Ruthers, one of the few merchants to call Fairburrow
home. She knew him because she laundered pirated goods through him to
provide the illusion of legitimacy when selling in markets like Arkane.
"Yes?" Ashbie asked, glancing sidelong at Ruthers as her gaze returned, in
part, to the capital.
Ruthers pointed to two lads behind him, both taller by a head or so, though
still smaller than Ashbie by a couple inches. "I've got these two young
gents to take your things to the manor, if you're ready."
Writer: Ashbie
Date Sat Dec 27 23:47:31 2014
To Verminasia All Marcaus Claudette Rikam Randal
Subject Raising Hell: Enter Fairburrow II
Ashbie eyed the two young teenagers, who both had their gazes carefully
averted from her. She pursed her lips. "I'm not that hideous, am I?" A
grin twisted across her features.
Slowly, the two young men lifted their gazes to look up at her. The one
with sandy hair almost immediately caught on the scar on her forehead. She
could FEEL his gaze as it slid up to the disfiguring mark and a shiver
passed through her. Ashbie felt a pang of regret for drawing attention to
herself, but it passed quickly. Nevertheless, she lifted a hand to draw
some of her bangs over the mark, but her hair was tied neatly behind her
head and she had nothing to cover the mark with. A fire burned in her,
reminded her of the purpose of the mark and she fought to keep still.
"Names?" Ashbie asked after a long, uncomfortable moment. Both of the
teenagers were staring now.
"Todd and San, as you like it, ma'am." Ruthers supplied, glancing back
at Todd and San in turn. Todd was the taller of the two by barely an inch
and had short, thick sandy hair. San had a slightly stockier build with
close-cropped brown hair and a set of dark eyes to match. Both boys
couldn't seem to stop staring. Todd, at least, had the good grace to move
his gaze away from the scar -- but had landed considerably lower. Even in
the modest leathers of her armor, her chest cut a striking profile and drew
plenty of attention. Ashbie turned slightly, and, as if a spell had been
broken, both teenagers averted their gazes once more, blushing vividly. The
moment earned a smile from Ashbie.
Even with the unsightly scar, she could still draw stares. Even if they
happened to be from hormonal teenage boys. A slight frown tugged at her
lips at that realization.
"Shall we take your things then?" Ruthers asked after a long pause.
"Fine, yes." Ashbie waved a hand dismissively, tilting back her chin and
masking her frown behind a look of indifference. She had no desire to
show her insecurity. "However, I will be about Fairburrow for some time.
Don't wait for me."
Then, allowing her gaze to fall back to Todd and San for a moment, Ashbie
flashed one of her more winsome smiles and pressed a coin into their hands,
"Try not to drop any of it. It's quite heavy."
With that, she walked by the boys, not sparing a backward glance to see
their reactions. Ahead lay Fairburrow and her mission. She could not return
to Verminasia empty-handed. She had a plan, now it was time to put it into
action.
Writer: Ashbie
Date Sun Dec 28 19:52:48 2014
Writer: Ashbie
Date Sun Dec 28 19:53:43 2014
Writer: Cailene
Date Mon Dec 29 09:07:07 2014
To All IMM RP
Subject A Mournful Mate
Cailene walked the old pridelands searching for her beloved mate
Carradinn. She walked many miles observing how sparce the prides had become
and how small the prides were. She searched for months as she started to
lose hope in finding him alive.
She continued to walk through Tropica, hunting for her food and stopping at
the nearby watering holes to drink. She had come across familiar grounds.
It had been many years since she had been to her own pridelands but she
remembered them well. She walked the old lands as the memories of good
times filled her mind.
Cailene walked about as she spent the time reminising of the good days as a
cub as she walked down to the stream bed. She took a long drink from the
stream and continued up the stream as she came across a wemic laying aside
the stream. She went to go see if she could help him in any way, but as she
moved nearer she could see no movement at all.
As she grew closer, she walked around the body but his face was concealed.
Then she saw it and her heart dropped. The cloak was the cloak she had
given him, for on the right side of the chest, was the symbol of the
Darkmoon crest she had especially made just for him.
Cailene dropped to her knees and lay across him, sobbing with no control.
Now she truly was alone. After a few hours, she took on the task of burying
her own as the ways of her people. After, what seemed like days, she was
done. She found a large stone to place at his head so she would never
forget where she laid him to enternal rest.
She stayed there a few days mourning her beloved mate but the time had come
to return. Although she did not want to leave her mate, he was no longer
her mate, he was with the ancestors now. So she stood up and headed back to
Althainia what is now her home.
Writer: Amex
Date Mon Dec 29 09:18:28 2014
Writer: Ashbie
Date Mon Dec 29 23:13:19 2014
To Verminasia All Marcaus Rikam Claudette Randal
Subject Raising Hell: The Tavern I
Ashbie pushed open the door and slipped into the dusty bar of the Tavern.
It's name was wholly uninspired, literally being named "the Tavern", but,
her mother hadn't wanted to change what she had felt was a familiar town
landmark to the people. Ashbie was well-acquainted with her mother's knack
for naming things. That "the Tavern" hadn't been renamed was a bit of a
surprise, but, at this point, the name sort of stuck in her memory. It
would have been stranger if it was changed.
The Tavern wasn't much, which made it perfect. The few tables it had were
full. The ale was cheap, but plentiful, and the bartender did keep a some
good liquor around if you knew how to ask for it. If one was interested in
gossip, they'd find their fill. There weren't many local hangouts in
Fairburrow, the Tavern held the monopoly on that market. It also made it
the perfect place for what Ashbie wanted to do.
Fortunately, no one seemed to recognize her as she slipped in. She earned
a few stares from regulars, trying to figure out who she was, but none of
them did. The people of Camaraenaus were friendly folk though, and no one
seemed troubled by her presence. Ashbie sauntered up to the bar. She
figured it didn't hurt to use what assets she had to get attention.
Anything and everything could be a tool in the proper situation.
Ashbie had applied some makeup just before entering. Not much, only enough
to highlight her features and, temporarily, to hide her scar. As much as
the scar hurt her vanity, she was strangely proud of it. She hoped that one
day Mencius would see fit to remove it, a sign of his acceptance of her as
truly one of His own. However, she hadn't hid the scar once since she had
received it.
Which was why she hid it now.
It would have given her away immediately to walk in with that scar so
glaringly on her forehead. She needed the element of surprise on her side
for this to work. It seemed that her saunter was working too. More of the
patrons were looking her way now. Yet, for the moment, the crowd in the bar
continued as they were. Ashbie settled down on a stool, planting one foot
against one of the support bars and the other firmly on the floor. Her heel
clicked against the wood, making a distinct thud sound.
"Bartender." She called out, lifting a hand.
After a few moments the familiar, roughly shaven face of the stereotypically
plump bartender appeared in front of her, "What can I get ya, lass?"
Ashbie slipped a pouch across the counter to the man and grinned, "Drinks
for everyone on the house -- and some of that whiskey you have stored in
the basement just for me."
Recognition showed across the bartender's face, but Ashbie lifted a finger
to his lips and the man nodded. "You can tell them the nice lady that just
walked in paid for a round. Don't need to tell them who I am." Ashbie
lowered her voice at the last, not wanting to be overheard.
The bartender gave a discrete nod then disappeared into the back. Ashbie
leaned back in her stool and gave a look around the bar. A number of the
patrons gave her intermittent glances, though no one had approached her
yet.
That was fine by Ashbie. She took her time examining the men. Some were
quickly discounted: too sick or too old to offer much. Others were clearly
out of shape or so rail-thin that Ashbie was afraid they might break. It
quickly became apparent that she'd have to lower her standards a bit. She
mentally adjusted, reminding herself, 'none of these men are warriors...
yet.'
Writer: Ashbie
Date Mon Dec 29 23:14:53 2014
To Verminasia All Marcaus Rikam Claudette Randal
Subject Raising Hell: The Tavern II
Still. Part of why Ashbie had come to Camaraenaus had been to find a group
of capable of men or women to become Knights. Not just mere soldiers, but
truly thoroughbred warriors, capable of leading charges on the fields of
battle. She also needed to find someone who could help her as a Lieutenant
in the Royal Army. They'd have to work their way up, same as anyone else.
Ashbie herself had put in her time at the Navy and as a Royal Sworn.
She could have looked anywhere, but she felt an insistent tug that drew her
back to her parents' land. Camaraenaus may have been a bit backwater, but
the people were stalwart and it felt like home. There was laughter all
around as people chatted and gossiped. The air was alive with spirits and
the smell of people. It wasn't a particularly pleasant smell, but that was
what made it perfect. It was the smell of soil and sweat, some blood, and
maybe some tears in there too. It was an honest smell, as true as the earth
itself.
Of course, her papa liked to remind her that lies were often just as good
as the truth.
The bartender returned with a bottle of Ashbie's favorite whiskey and a
tumbler to boot. He poured her a glass, then began to gather empty mugs
and his barmaid. Serving a round of ale to every person in the Tavern was
not as simple of a feat as one might assume in such a small place. There
were still quite a lot of folk in it, and only so many mugs to go around
when almost everyone had one already. With only the two, it was an even
taller task.
Ashbie watched in amusement as the two of them worked in tandem in what
amounted to a boistrous, oddly choreographed dance of pouring ale and
staging platters for the beverage to go out on. Table after table got a
surprise round of beer and slowly, steadily, the entire tavern grew quiet
as more and more of its patrons became aware of what was going on.
Once, when Ashbie was spending a lot of time in Haven, she had returned
after a particularly successful voyage. Drunk on luck and quite a bit of
rum, she had put on an impromptu festival in the streets of the Pirate town
that lasted nearly a week. She'd never remembered how she'd managed to fund
it all. Perhaps others, enjoying the celebrations, had pitched in. Either
way, she'd set off a spark, a spark that became a flame, and it had been a
blessed, cherished memory. This moment was shaping up to be the same.
However, it was happening quite differently. The laughter was dying down.
The life in the room was becoming still, taut, tense, like a string drawn
on a bow, ready to be fired. It was glorious and beautiful for so many
reasons, none of them even close to the same as the festival. It was an
altogether different beauty. It was the slow ballad rather than the lively
jig.
The last table received their drinks, then everyone turned their attention
to the bartender. Ashbie fleetingly wondered if anyone had bought a round
for the entire bar before. The man looked nervous. He was sweating All over
his ruddy features. However, he cleared his throat, stood to his full height
of just under six feet, and spoke.
"Evening all." He said loudly. There were some murmured responses from the
bar, but it remained mostly silent.
"This fine lass over here," The bartender gestured to Ashbie, and, as one,
the entire bar seemed to shift their gazes in her direction. In spite of
herself, Ashbie felt a little bit of heat flush up through her. "This fine
lass wanted to buy a round of drinks for you all." There was a pregnant
silence, then, "Not sure why, you're a right sorry lot, but you have her
to thank, not me." There were some chuckles at the joke, then silence.
All at once the crowd roared. The murmur that had been present the entire
night, that was conspicuously absent only moments before, returned. Now,
however, some were approaching her.
Writer: Ashbie
Date Tue Dec 30 21:18:57 2014
To Verminasia All Marcaus Claudette Rikam Randal
Subject Raising Hell: Recruitment I
"Ain't seen ya around before. What brings ya to Camaraenaus?"
"Thanks for the drink, lass. Right fine o' ya."
"Can I shake your hand? What's yer name?"
Ashbie simply grinned, smiling, taking each well-wishing bar patron in
turn, or in groups as they presented themselves. This was her element, her
place to shine. It was a flaw and a strength that Ashbie loved being the
center of attention. She'd come to that realization recently. Sometimes
she was like an addict, seeking another hit of a drug that would drive her
into the ground if she wasn't careful. Nevertheless, her charms and good
looks, and the way she thrived on the attention of others made her a
natural hand at creating a scene out of nothing.
A scene was precisely what she needed to conquer her task of recruiting.
Most of her new admirers seemed to be men, though there were some women in
the crowd, and a couple that came up to introduce themselves. Ashbie kept
mostly silent through it all, promising that she would speak later, simply
shaking hands and receiving thanks rather than divulging who she was and
why she was there.
It was enough to simply revel in the moment. She took in the gratitude,
the noise, and the surrounding atmosphere like a sponge soaks in water.
Yet, there was no such thing as oversaturation with her. Ashbie realized
that she would be content to sit in her chair forever, an endless line of
well-wishers and admirers approaching her, waiting to meet her, wanting to
share their thanks.
Ashbie pictured herself seated on a throne. She was garbed in a fine dress.
Not too heavy, she wanted to be comfortable as well as attractive, but the
dress was a lovely shade of red with black trim and complemented her toned
figure. She had one leg crossed over the other as men and women came to
approach her dais and bow -- or curtsy -- to her, to pay Ashbie her dues.
Incense filled the air, a delicious scent of lavender that tickled her nose
and tongue. It was playful, ethereal, perfectly indistinct. She could see
purple floating in the air, dancing in her vision as if it were the scent
of lavender given life and vision and wholeness in the world. Then the
vision faded and Ashbie was back in the dingy, hole-in-the-wall bar.
It was time.
Ashbie climbed up on her stool. The chair stumbled tenuously beneath her,
threatening to spill over, but if there was anything Ashbie was talented
at, it was her physical gifts. She had a natural attunement with her
balance, enhanced by a lifetime on ships and in fights where she had to
win by quickness over strength.
The simple action was nevertheless quite noticeable and the bar quickly
quieted down. The crowd seemed to mostly recognize the woman that had
purchased them a round. If she waited too long, it would have easily been
forgotten in the revels of the eve.
"Evening, All of ya." Ashbie said, her half-drunk glass of whiskey in one
hand. She did her best to present as slightly tipsy, it wouldn't do to
appear as sober as she felt in a room that had a definite buzz going
through it.
"I know ya All want to keep drinking and enjoying yourselves. I don't
want to take too much of your time, but I do have something to say if
ya will listen." Ashbie grinned, putting on her best winsome smile.
A long silence followed. Ashbie swore that she would have been able to
hear crickets if there had been any to hear. Finally, a voice shouted out
"hear, hear!"
Then, "Speech! Go on, lass!"
Soon the entire bar was alive with clamor for her to speak, so loud was the
ensuing din that Ashbie had to wait for it All to die down. She rewarded
everyone with a smile that truly lit up her features, her best smile, the
perfect complement to her face.
"Right then, speech." Ashbie gave a wink, then she began.
Writer: Ashbie
Date Tue Dec 30 23:23:15 2014
Writer: Marcaus
Date Wed Dec 31 05:50:01 2014
Writer: Cassioppia
Date Wed Dec 31 08:59:18 2014
To All IMM RP
Subject Leaving the Desert for Home
Cassioppia arrived in New Thalos not knowing this would be her last walk
in the Desert Jewel. She walked the normal roads and entered her office to
check the parchments piled up on her desk. One by one she went through the
stack as she read through each one with concern and interest. She had seen
no sign of the Sultan for some days now and did not know when she would see
him next.
Someone contacted her telepathically, it was her husband. He greeted her
and she greeted him and asked where he was to which he ansewered in the
Highlands. She asked if she could join him and he agreed she should. Her
way to Nordmaar was quite scenic and she enjoyed the sight of the rams on
the mountains. So many beautiful things to see that she had missed out on
living in the jewel. Her hand went to the locket as she thought of her
parents who passed when the plague broke out when she was a child. She held
on to the locket as she entered the gates and made her way to the Black
Rose. The Rose was quite busy for a change and she joined her husband
Mezlak and All who were gathered as they conversed and drank ale.
As things started to wind down, Mezlak was the first to go rest, the Queen
and King were about to go to rest when Cassioppia asked the King if he could
spare a few more minutes. Everyone else took there leave, along with the
Queen, and they sat down to speak. They had already spoken with Mezlak and
her while he was in attendance but now it was a heart to heart with the
King.
Cassioppia spoke to the king about things that happened in her life, how her
parents had died from the plague in the Highlands many years ago and had
left her in Arkane as a wee child. How she managed to survive and make her
way to the desert and worked her way to the position she held. She told him
of her plans to return home had been at a standstill and how she worried her
husband would not be accepted in the Highlands. The king was impressed with
her accomplishments and spoke to her the truth of the situation.
Once the king finished, she realized what she had done to herself. How she
had lost All this time away from her true home where her parents would have
wished her to be. She asked the king if she could come home the king smiled
at her and welcomed her home.
Writer: Reagan
Date Wed Dec 31 21:09:27 2014
Writer: Cassioppia
Date Thu Jan 1 09:50:30 2015
To All IMM RP Cliath
Subject End of the Road
Cassioppia sat in the Black Rose drowning her sorrows with pale ale. She
had been doing this since her shunning and divorce from Mezlak. After some
time, he walked in the door and sat down wanting to talk to her. She sat
their seriousy and nodded to him. She continued to drink as he spoke. He
asked if he would stop his challenge if she would take him back. She looked
at him seriously and gave him the honest answer of she was not sure.
Cassioppia listened to him as he continued to speak and she continued to
listen as the topic of his challenge finally came up. She told him of how
she moved back home with the hopes that he would finally open his eyes and
give up on his senseless challenge with the marauders and join her. He
looked at her and ansered with what she sadly knew he would say. He said he
could not give up on this challenge he was given and he must continue on
with what he was assigned. She looked at him and stood up. Her dicision to
divorce was proven. She looked down at him with anger ant told him to have
a good challenge and a good life and walked out.
She left the Black Rose with her pride intact and satisfied with the
decisions she had made.
Writer: Ashbie
Date Thu Jan 1 21:51:35 2015
To Verminasia All Marcaus Claudette Rikam Randal
Subject Raising Hell: Recruiting II
"When people think of Verminasia, who thinks of Camaraenaus?" Ashbie turned
her gaze, watching the crowd. It was important to gauge the reaction of her
listeners. A good speech was not rote, it was shaped and formed like a work
of art. A vision of how it should appear in the end was important, but it
changed and evolved as it was made. It was perfect because it was
imperfect, because the end result was adapted rather than forced.
The crowd was still uncertain, a bit confused, but they'd imbibed enough
that they were willing to go along with it.
"Just a backwater nowhere that don't concern anyone." Ashbie said, slipping
into the vernacular that had been so familiar to her in the past. "We're
more than that though, aren't we?"
At the use of 'we', Ashbie earned herself a few more curious glances as
the people in the crowd became markedly more interested in figuring out
'who' she was. Ashbie flashed them a winsome smile.
"Camaraenaus has gone through hard times, no doubt. You've All worked the
skins off your back when the land wouldn't give you none." Ashbie paused,
watching as a few heads began to nod.
"Now you're turning out ostriches and game and indigo dye. You're finally
seeing fruits for your labor." The nodding began to spread through the
crowd.
"But is there enough work for everyone? Might be in time, when demand
increases. When Camaraenaus makes its mark on the map. Until then, what
about the rest of ya?" Ashbie gazed around the room quietly, her face
going still.
The room was silent. Ashbie wondered whether they disagreed, or maybe they
were just thinking. It was no secret that even with the progress that
Camaraenaus was making, there was only so much work. Yet, the faces that
she saw mirrored her own. They were silent and still.
"It's not secret that we've been on the brink of war for some time. It
almost feels it's turned cold, but we always have to be ready. I, for
one, will not stand on the side waiting for something to happen. What
happens to Verminasia will touch Camaraenaus in the end. Will you shape
its destiny or simply watch it go by?" Ashbie let her voice ring out
through the silent bar, fading into the nothingness as she took a pause.
There was a stirring among some of the patrons, but no one spoke. It was
as if someone had a hand to everyone's lips, stopping them from speaking.
Ashbie swallowed, but gave another good-natured grin.
"What's in it for us?" A voice finally broke through the silence from the
back of the bar.
"That depends on ya," Ashbie responded with a wider grin. "Make a name for
yourself and the world is yours for the taking. Mayhaps ya could end up
like my parents."
Ashbie thought about her Papa and Maman for a moment. They'd started out
with nothing, each of them. They'd turned into powerful people, and even
though they were landowners, they hadn't allowed that to change them.
"And who are your parents?" Someone called out. Ashbie couldn't see their
face.
Ashbie considered the question for a long moment. The chair remained firmly
beneath her, but she could feel a slight tremble. Would they listen to her
if they knew who she was? Part of Ashbie told her yes, but another part
told her no. They'd see her as a wealthy noble's daughter. They'd want to
spoil her and enjoy her company, but they wouldn't want to listen to her
about war.
"That doesn't matter. What matters is ya. What will ya make of yourselves?"
"I think- yeah, you look familiar." Another voice rang out, a woman's.
"Yeah! You're right. She's the Baron and Baronness' daughter, ain't she?"
Another voice chimed in. Soon the silence of the bar was completely broken
by the constant stream of muttered chatter.
"Maybe I am, what of it?" Ashbie looked around, her voice quiet.
"You're pulling one over on us."
"I'm not." Ashbie smirked, "Here, I'll show you."
Writer: Ashlen
Date Fri Jan 2 19:37:24 2015
Writer: Ashlen
Date Fri Jan 2 20:43:06 2015
To All Conclave Sebatis Drakkara Kantilles Kyri Atlantos
Subject Simple magic
She nodded and forced a patronizing smile, across at the large, humanoid
figure his endearing, sincere smile was just about enough to turn the
womans' stomach anymore. Today's overjoyed realization?? Well, how long
the sorcerer could manage to fling with childlike gusto and an
overconfidence that must accompany anyone whom isnt really sure... What the
hell is going on around them...? His massive and powerful arms in a rather
mocking display of parrying abilities, the several, clearly smaller men, who
went making an overwhelming offensive to as the last one, flailing All the
while, attempted to drop kick the ogre, whom towered over the masked and
futile act. She couldnt help but to stifle a laugh, and add in retort, a
rather smirky sneer to the flight taken bunch.
This enormous, blunt, yet clearly, a genius of ogre kind had quickly won
over the tower. From his lewd, borderline harassing testosterone driven
banter, to the way he unknowingly dribbled spittle from the corners of his
crude mouth every time he even contemplated eating... Which was constantly?
He had taken several apprentices, and his comprehension and understanding of
field strategy was beyond reproach. Though his magic missiles... Where not
necessarily known to hit on All targets... His large, dull smile shown all
the same, and truly he belonged
He was strong. And she was a woman to admired strength. There were few who
knew her closely, but some whom would recollect the largest towers amassing
which previously had no comparison. Two years it had been sense she joined
the towers, six months she had spent cowering inside of them. The next six,
under the support and brilliant hoof, hand? Of another unlikely friend to
magic, she had quickly found her stride. She had quickly found her place,
her purpose. Those previous six months, they were not hard to sweep under a
rug. There was no one asking, there was no one attending. And night after
night, staring out those cold tower windows, of the empty spire, while the
mutiny of the barren place was falling to her favor, would often wonder,
"What in the hell am I doing here.. " Six months of silence. Of
disrespect. Of humility.
Where And in the next six, the towers became an organization not only taken
seriously, but with All the benefits that come along... Scorn, fear,
admiration, and most importantly, curiosity. And though she rarely chose to
discuss this allowed, a school is rather quite like a business, and without
success, without curiousness direction or interest it cannot be taken
seriously.
She watched in contemplation this magi, whom carried bags of weaponry, and
couldnt cast a spell worth a damn, and nodded her head to herself. It had
been a long year without a guardian, and if anything... Gods knew he was
large enough... Rhaxx...
Where "sebatis. ' She spoke aloud in her room, as she hovered a quill over
suddenly to where she found herself sitting, "large enough y-you think lord?
u-ugly too... " The room filled quietly with her scribbling.. "we a-are
ready for another g-guardian lord. he is s-sweet, he is simple, and
clearly, he i-is as big as a barn, and possibly as dense. we have need o-of
this ogre all the same. we have need, of a hardworking guardian. "
She turned slowly, staring out her window as so many times before, leaning
in as if peeking through it to the red moon. "time to balance, the scales."
Writer: Isabel
Date Sat Jan 3 03:28:16 2015
Writer: Cassioppia
Date Sat Jan 3 13:50:53 2015
To All IMM RP Cliath
Subject Patrol, Prayer, and Meditation
Cassioppia was just finishing patrolling the grounds outside the walls of
the city. She went to the gates and entered them, closing them behind her.
She saluted the guards in greeting as she proceeded down the street. As she
checked the shops she silently meditated to Father Cliath. She walked shop
to shop in silence continueing to meditate along the way. She finally
finished her rounds and headed to the gates once more.
She had finished her meditation as she reached the gates. She once again
saluted the guards and made her way out the gates closing the gates behind
her. She then casually walked through the Merchant District just seeing
what she could find. She spoke to the shopkeeps and they told her All was
well and she continued on her walk until she reached the Temple. She humbly
entered the temple and knelt down before the statue of Father Cliath and
prayed... "Holy Father, I wish to thank you for All you have created and we
have created by your blessed blessed hands. Without you, we could not have
made such precious things that most take for granted. I pray that All will
open there eyes to the beauty of your wonders as my eyes are also opened and
blessed to behold the beautys you set before me. I make this promise to
you, I shall never take you for granted, never take what you have created
for granted, and shall always remain your humble child until the end of my
days. I promise this with All my heart, soul, and being. Amen""
Cassioppia stayed there a few minutes with her head bowed and her eyes
closed. A few stray tears running down her cheeks as she new her heart and
will was dedicated to the Holy Father Cliath. She finally stood and wiped
her tears as she looked at the statue and smiled with a renewed joy in her
heart. She left the temple and went on with her days activities.
Writer: Ashbie
Date Sat Jan 3 19:03:57 2015
To Verminasia All Marcaus Claudette Rikam Randal
Subject Raising Hell: Barfight I
"Show us what, lass? Come now, ya are a lil deep in your drinks. Let us
take ya back home." One of the men stood up out of his chair and began to
walk over to Ashbie.
She watched him quietly, like a cat monitors its prey. Her muscles were
taut, ready, but she continued to watch. She measured every step on
instinct. There was no conscious thought to it -- it was All training by
now. Four steps. Three steps. Two steps. One step.
Ashbie reached out lazily and snagged the man's arm in her own. He wasn't
prepared for it and, with that element of surprise, she managed to pull the
man up close. He smelled of ale and sweat. He stank of several days
without bathing. Ashbie could see the whites of his eyes, growing around
the smaller brown irises as he began to realize what had just happened.
Then, in the next moment, his eyes were hidden from her as Ashbie swung
the man around and slammed his arm up against his back in a hold. All this
she managed while only bending slightly from her chair -- and she didn't
topple.
"Right then." Ashbie grinned out at the bewildered crowd. She was in a sort
of awkward spot, half bent over while pinning the man's arm to his back.
He struggled a little, but Ashbie bent his arm a little and then pushed
against a pressure point with her free hand simultaneously. The man cried
out and grew still.
"I know ya All think I'm a just a prissy lass, but I'm the Commander of the
Royal Army of Verminasia and I'm going ta be heard." Ashbie's voice was
calm, almost deadly quiet.
The murmuring in the bar died down.
"Alright, I'm a bit bored." Ashbie admitted, "So I have a proposition to
offer ya."
No one responded.
"If any of ya can best me in a fight, I'll give ya a purse of gold, the
rank of Lieutenant in the Army, and ya can carry me back to Castor Manor
and say ya beat me fair and square." Ashbie continued to grin as she began
laying out her terms.
"And if ya beat us, lass?" Someone called out at last.
Ashbie's grin grew. "Well, then ya will have some lumpy heads, the
knowledge that the daughter of the Baron and Baronness beat ya bloody, and
I'll have some new recruits joining up wondering how I did it."
At first, no one responded and Ashbie wondered if her little display had
backfired. She imagined going back to Marcaus empty-handed. Perhaps he
wouldn't have expected any more from her than that. The whole affair had
been Ashbie's idea in the first place.
"Let Anton go, I'll fight you." The source of the remark was a profoundly
deep voice. Ashbie watched as a mountain of a man rose and parted the
crowd as if they were no more than wheat chaff to be blown over by the
slightest of wind.
The man had long, kinky dark brown hair and a shaggy beard. His brow hung
over his eyes, making them seem even darker than usual. Ashbie recognized
him as Big Jon. He was the largest man in the province bar none. He had
been among the many unsuccessful farmers when they arrived, she wasn't
sure what he was doing now. In spite of his formidable appearance, he had
a tendency to be a jolly individual.
"Now, don't take nothing wrong by this, little lass." Big Jon said, his
voice rumbling, "But if a fight's what you want, it's what you'll get. I'm
not going east on you."
Ashbie grinned, "Excellent!" She hopped off of her stool, making the
difference between their heights that much more exaggerated. Ashbie was
a tall woman, she was taller than most men. Yet Big Jon stood easily a head
and a half taller than her -- a normal man's head anyways. Big Jon's head
was certainly larger than most. He had a thick, jutting jaw and a prominent
nose. However, his eyes remained his most striking features.
One had a tendency to underestimate the intelligence of larger men, but not
Ashbie. There was a spark in Big Jon's eyes, a shadow of something that
belied his congenial nature.
Writer: Ashbie
Date Sat Jan 3 19:04:48 2015
To Verminasia All Marcaus Claudette Rikam Randal
Subject Raising Hell: Barfight II
Somehow the floor around them had widened. The bar patrons had made an
impromptu ring while Ashbie was busy staring her opponent down. Big Jon
was even larger up close, moments before the fight was set to begin. Ashbie
swallowed. She wasn't afraid, yet she knew she had only moments to devise a
strategy before the fight began. Such moments always made her feel alive,
on fire, her pulse racing, her palms sweaty.
"Ready?" Big Jon asked, gazing down at her with hard eyes.
Ashbie grinned a little, "Always."
The first swing could be felt as a rush of air as Ashbie ducked it and
rolled around behind Big Jon. She aimed a vicious kick to the back of his
knee, causing the big man to buckle a little as he turned around. Big Jon
grunted a little, stumbling as he turned. He aimed another jab for her and
Ashbie tilted her head to the side this time, watching as the meaty fist
missed her by less than an inch.
Ashbie took a step back to produce just a bit more distance between herself
and the massive form of her opponent. She took a look up to study his eyes,
one could tell a lot about their adversary just by looking at their eyes.
Yet, Big Jon, though he was no soldier as far as Ashbie knew, had the eyes
of one. His gaze was guarded, fierce, and there was even something slightly
intimidating in them.
The next blow came low and Ashbie only caught it at the last moment. She
took a step back to minimize the impact, but she still felt the force of
Big Jon's blow as he hit his mark. Ashbie exhaled vociferously as she felt
her stomach cave in. It felt like she'd been hit with a boulder instead of
a fist. She swayed for a moment, taking several steps back. His next swing
she side-stepped, but only barely.
When Big Jon swung again, Ashbie saw her chance. Though she was tall, he
was so big that the massive mountain of a man was leaning into his blows to
ensure connection. Ashbie waited, watched and then, when Big Jon wound up
for another blow, she made her move. Like water, she shifted in a slight
feint to the side in order to draw the man's momentum just where she
wanted it. Ashbie hurtled her fist toward Big Jon's throat.
Big Jon took a staggered step back, clutching for his throat. Relentless,
Ashbie reached up with one hand and clung around the back of Big Jon's neck
before swinging herself behind him. The simple motion looked fluid and
simple, but required far more strength than Ashbie had anticipated. Still,
she made a bar with her arm and squeezed. Her free hand clutched to the
wrist of her barred arm in order to reinforce it with extra support.
The struggle was immense.
Ashbie's strength paled in comparison to Big Jon. She was a strong woman,
and yet she felt like a child as he bucked in her hold, trying to throw
her off. Ashbie grimaced and continued to cling as tight as she could.
"Sorry, not meaning anything personal by it, Big Jon." Ashbie managed,
punctuating pauses with grunts. Big Jon only grunted in response.
Big Jon tried to buck her off again and again. Ashbie's long legs went
flying around, sending some of the crowd back several feet, or diving to
the side to avoid her as she swung by. Ashbie bit her lip, then let go of
her arm and hung loosely to the larger man while bringing her other arm
back out for another swing. The impact with Big Jon's throat made an
immediate impact. The large man lurched, then fell forward.
Ashbie lithely leapt of the falling man's back and landed on both feet,
knees bent. Rising slowly, she grinned wide, "So, who's next?"
Writer: Cassioppia
Date Tue Jan 6 06:21:30 2015
To All IMM RP Religion Cliath
Subject What Happened Last Night
Cassioppia awoke thinking she was late for formation. She felt like
the walking dead but hurriedly dressed into her uniform and sprang out the
door. The morning air was crisp and cold but it didn't bother her at all.
She stood in her usual spot and no one was about. She looked over to the
gateguard and he said "Aye lass, wot ye 'ere so earlae?" She looked at him
for a moment then looked at the suns position in the sky. Aye, Oi will jus
wait about fer da othas. She answered back.
She stood there for quite some time so she chose the time to pray "Holy
Father Cliath, I thank you for another day to worship and learn of You.
Help your children to be driven in your teachings to share your word,
convert those that are on a misteken road, and to love you with All their
heart. I ask this in You Holy Name, Amen
Cassioppia started thinking about the night before, she could not understand
why she could get no sleep last night. She spent a long time dealing with
bear skins and by the time she went to bed she was exhausted. She had
fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow but awoke fifteen minutes
later disoriented, thinking it was time to get up. She laid back down and
slowly fell asleep again, but nightmares plagued her and she tossed and
turned until six and could not sleep any longer.
She was off for the morning rounds.
Writer: Kiligar
Date Tue Jan 6 17:41:28 2015
To All Shadow Imm RP Necrucifer
Subject past and present. - part 1
He sat there alone in the library surrounded by what seemed to be,
mountains of books. He had told Abram he would read them all, as
instructed. But that was not to be...
Kiligar picks up the first volume within reach and skimming through quickly,
he already knows the knowledge contained within. This turns out to be the
case of almost every book he can find, most on mundane magics and the uses
they can provide in combat and in daily life as well.
That is when something catches Kiligar's eye, a black leather book with no
markings, save for the symbol of God upon it. Kiligar opens the book to the
first page, and begins to read. And he finds Something new! It has been so
long since something new has been brought to his attention, and he is
thrilled and just a bit anxious. He reads through the night about gourds
and familiars, of possesson and many other things forbidden. His mind is
set. A Warlock. That is what he shall become! Something new! Something
given to him by God. For in the book there was a passage, one that struck
home in Kiligar.
"Believe not the lies of Drakkara, she holds no sway where witches and
warlocks powers are concerned. Necrucifer himself has bestowed us this
gift, those that choose his path shall revel in his power. Submit or die."
- Unknown Author.
Kiligar closes his eyes for just a moment, but that is All it takes. Memory
of his childhood floods Kiligar's mind.
-=10 Years Earlier=-
Kiligar opens his eyes slowly taking in the dark room around him, incoherent
mutters draw him from his inner place. He does not try to move for he
already knows it would be a fruitless effort, he is bound to the table he
lay upon with thick leather straps. Nothing new. Suddenly and without
warning he is struck, the blow is not one of force but of precision. The
dull pain he feels is gone within seconds as his limb goes numb, his left
shoulder and arm no longer funciton. "She still loves me, otherwise she
would make me feel more of it. " Kiligar thinks to himself as the second
strike hits home, his waist and right leg begin to go numb as well.
Kiligar remains aware of his situation, into the darkness he says "It has
been almost three days since I have eaten anything. I'm hungry, mother. "
Shuffling from the corner of the room gives her away. A lantern is turned
up slightly, giving the room just enough light to see in. She moves like
fluid so close now, he can smell the alcohol on her. Again he pleads with
her for food "Mother please, I'm hungry. " She leans in close and he sees
her face for the first time in days, something is different and he notices
right away. It's her eyes that gives it away, she does not see him anymore.
She has always been cruel and never once showed love, but never before had
she just left him to rot. She needed him, she fed on him after all...
She moves away suddenly hissing and spinning, instantly at the only door
into or out of the room. A creak is heard from the other side of the door,
then it bursts inwards. A man dressed in black chainmail follows the debris
of the door into the room, a long sword in one hand and a small round shield
on the other. For what seems forever to this child the two are at
eachother, his mother clawing and snapping at her foe, the man in black
striking out when able but mostly blocking wild attacks.
His mother stumbles and cries out "Drakkara! Save me! " but the man in
black is there, sword in line with her neck, swinging fast and true. The
man picks up the fallen woman's head and smiling says "Drakkara did nothing
for you, not today or any other day of your life. " The man looks over at
the boy a scowl on his face, then he cuts the leather straps away. Kiligar,
blood draining from the holes left by his mothers fangs, hears faintly the
man speak again. "You may only be a child but hear me boy, I will wait out
the night here and if you change, I shall slay you too. " with those words
in his ears, Kiligar passes out cold.
Writer: Kiligar
Date Tue Jan 6 21:36:26 2015
To All Shadow Imm RP Necrucifer
Subject past and present. - part 2
He lays there on the table feeling drained of All strength, visions of
his now dead mother, vivid for now. The man in black left with the first
dawns light, he said nothing. Kiligar pretended to sleep until the man had
left, he was pretty sure the man knew it too. He wanted nothing to do with
that man, the murderer of his mother. The man had however left behind
something as to what it was Kiligar had yet to investigate, he left whatever
it was alone and went to the body that had been cast aside the night before.
He stares at the wreckage that used to be his mother, her head was missing.
He did not cry for how could he? She had kept him locked to that table for
almost a full month! She had gone out to check the traps one night, she
came back someone different maybe even something different. Kiligar turns
from the corpse and looks down to the floor for the first time since he
found his feet, a small black velvet cloth folded neatly lay there next to
the table he had been strapped to for weeks.
Kiligar picks up the cloth and feels something hard and heavy folded within,
with an unsteady hand he opens the cloth and inside is a black steel symbol
fixed to a black steel chain. A small note is also present. He opens the
note with shaking hands, to find only a few words scribed quickly:
"Leave this behind and let Necrucifer guide you. "
Kiligar lets his mothers necklace slip from his hand and it hits the floor,
he leaves the small house venturing into the large rainforest that surrounds
it. The symbol of Drakkara and last material thing left of his mother, all
but forgotten in that instant.
-=Present Day=-
Kiligar snaps back to the here and now with a start, he looks about the room
ashamed. All is well and he is alone in the library still, his mind made up
with this discovery of something forbidden. Taking one last look at the
piles of books before him Kiligar exits the room, in search of something
more.
Writer: Ulrog
Date Wed Jan 7 16:49:03 2015
Writer: Ulrog
Date Wed Jan 7 22:13:02 2015
Writer: Ghillena
Date Fri Jan 9 09:54:23 2015
Writer: Ghillena
Date Fri Jan 9 09:59:22 2015
Writer: Ghillena
Date Fri Jan 9 10:02:59 2015
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Sun Jan 11 13:17:42 2015
To All Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom Arkane Nordmaar imm rp Austinian Zandreya Scorn
Subject Before the State of the Mart Address (Vol. 6, 2015)
The members of the Board quietly fidgeted with their paperwork high atop
the 99th floor of the newly completed Ixi-Mart Tower. It was just about
time for the Chairman and themselves to descend the elevator to the 10th
floor, where hundereds of shareholders and employees packed the auditorium.
However, Ixi did not move from the window where he stood, arms folded behind
his back, staring up into the night sky.
'You seem disappointed. '' Illiquin piped up, finally breaking the silence
in the boardroom. ''What's on your mind? '
The Chairman gave no reply, not even a shift in posture. The elderly gnome
pressed on.
'It's the numbers, isn't it? '' Illiquin climbed down from his corinthian
leatherbound executive swivel chair and slowly made his way towards the
Chairman. ''You're looking at them All wrong, you know. '
'Ixi, we had over a 20 percent jump in sales last year. That, is
unprecedented. It's not a sustainable goal. It's not even reasonable to
expect it two years in a row! We are simply returning to normal levels,
which, if you will recall, was still pretty damn good. '
Not giving the Chairman a chance to reply, Illiquin offered further
arguments. ''And you can't look at what is in the till right now. Or have
you forgotten, that we've financed and constructed the massive,
state-of-the-art tower which we stand atop right now? Don't fret about
that. That money will come back. The entire purpose of this tower in the
first place was to economize. With lower operating costs, and redundancy
all but eliminated, we will make that money back in just a couple of years.
All of it and more! ''
''And if that's not enough, '' the elderly gnome continued. ''I'm not sure
if you or the others have noticed this yet, but Mart-Town is rapidly moving
towards self-sufficiency. There are forges, and contractors, and public
works. Virtually nothing has to be imported from other places anymore, save
for produce. And as we speak, Crillow is working to parcel out the fields
to the north of town. Very soon, Mart-Town will be able to produce its own
fruits and vegetables. THis only serves to -further- reduce operating costs
for us, and the town. It's genious, really. Thimtax knew exactly what he
was doing when he planned this whole place out. ''
The boardroom fell silent after the mention of their late friend and
co-worker, the little gnome, creator of both tower and town. The Chairman
maintained his quiet gaze out the window, his head sagging a bit.
Illiquin shook his head and spoke once again. ''Have a little more faith,
Ixi. Thimtax wouldn't steer you wrong, and neither would we. Now come on.
'' The elderly gnome turned on his heel and hobbled towards the elevator.
''Everyone's waiting for us in the auditorium. Get in there, and sell them
on these crappy figures. ''
Writer: Barakiel
Date Tue Jan 13 21:40:39 2015
Writer: Lilly
Date Wed Jan 14 10:24:57 2015
To All IMM RP Religion
Subject Time Alone
Lilly sat in her usual place High among the Vallenwoods just spending
some time alone. Time away from her studies, time away from her tasks, just
time away. She sat there for some time just reflecting on her time in the
Vallens. Her decision in becoming a priestess was strong and she was
determined to get there with help or without.
She sat there thinking about her long lost parents and how proud they would
be that she found her way home and how much they filled her life with love
until the day the stumps attacked them as they travelled back home and she
was the only one to survive. Her eyes welled with tears as she remembered
the look in their eyes as they thought she would not get away. She did get
away, and their was nothing she could do to save them.
She carried this sorrow deep in her heart but said this to no one, it was a
burden she must carry on her own. She cried as she remembered the memories
of their faces in so much pain and felt ashamed that she did nothing to
help. She sat there until her tears ebbed glad noone had walked in and
caught her crying. She wiped her face, put on her facade, and went on with
her day.
Writer: Ulrog
Date Fri Jan 16 16:45:22 2015
To All Thaxanos Raije Imm RP
Subject An Unseen Presence
Ulrog ran around the Asylum, flying at each and every twig he could find
and roaring his battle cry. Each and every one fell before his onslaught
with little effort. However, blind in his rage he grew complacent, not
noticing when an unseen shadow crept into the room and closed the door. The
shadow watched the dwarf with interest, never having seen a creature fight
with such ferocity. It gazed at a distance, watching the dwarf cut down elf
after elf, never stopping and never tiring, and it formulated an idea.
The shadow was thirsty, that was the only reason it ever came to this cold,
dark place. So many unwitting creatures to feed upon walked willingly in
its halls, desperate to slay the creatures found within, but this shadow was
not one of the weak elves chained to the wall. It was an ancient, powerful
being, and within these walls and away from the sunlight, the hunters became
the hunted.
The gift that the shadow could bestow upon the dwarf would take away
everything that made the dwarf who he was, and would turn him into something
else. It would make him drastically more powerful, and turn such a powerful
warrior into a creature just like the shadow. The more the shadow watched
the dwarf in battle, the more enticing the thought became. It would turn
this dwarf, make him into a demon, the most powerful demon warrior the realm
had ever seen, and the darkness would have a champion to strike out at the
light from the shadows.
The shadow crept towards the oblivious dwarf, sneaking up unseen behind him.
When he got within striking distance, the creature struck the dwarf hard in
the back of the head, dazing him and knocking him onto the ground in a
clatter of axes and armor. With an evil, hissing chuckle, the shadow knelt
to the floor next to the dazed dwarf, who still, for some reason, could not
see this being who had just attacked him. Strong hands gripped the dwarf,
holding him down as the shadow lowered its face to his neck, then suddenly
lunged in, sinking its teeth deep inside the dwarfs neck as Ulrog howled in
pain....
Writer: Reagan
Date Fri Jan 16 21:30:25 2015
Writer: Reagan
Date Fri Jan 16 22:04:53 2015
Writer: Alyzza
Date Sat Jan 17 14:21:20 2015
Writer: Ashbie
Date Mon Jan 19 00:42:46 2015
Writer: Biem
Date Mon Jan 19 04:34:06 2015
Writer: Ilimilipili
Date Mon Jan 19 14:29:51 2015
Writer: Jesamaine
Date Mon Jan 19 19:25:46 2015
To All IMM RP
Subject Sole Shadowblade
Jesamaine stood on the balcony in Althainia looking across the city,
missing Savras with All her heart. It had not been long since his passing
and it was All still fresh to her. Now she wondered if their were anymore
Shadowblades out there, anyone left alive. She looked up at the stars as
she prayed that someone would answer the parchments she had posted
everywhere.
She sighed deeply as she walked away from the rail of the balcony and sat on
the floor. She sat there thinking, hoping someone will answer her. She did
not wish to be the only Shadowblade left, she needed her family, she needed
to know she was still loved. Lately she had been feeling so alone and she
did not know what to do.
Jesamaine sat there untli her thoughts turned to sadness and she broke down
and cried silently.... Alone.
Writer: Reagan
Date Mon Jan 19 20:47:52 2015
Writer: Csyla
Date Tue Jan 20 08:28:58 2015
To All Galeru
Subject A Red Dragon
Csyla peeked through the archway of the courtyard and saw the massive
red shape clearly over the top of the buildings. She stopped for a
moment, astounded again by the sheer size of the beast in the town
center. Waiting for her! She shook her head to clear her thoughts and
hurried toward Temple Road. Main Street was awash in red, the sun
glinting off the dragon's scales and giving the buildings a rosy tint.
She approached the massive Red slowly, his form filling the town center
looking like a living, breathing being composed of blood red rubies.
The Red tipped his head on her approach, a massive eye coming down to
examine her.
"Ride."
The ground trembled with the rumble of the dragon's word, a pot
shattered, shaken from it's perch on a windowsill. Csyla took three
shaky steps to the Red's leg, grasping tenatively at the spikes there
and trying to ignore the dripping, rotting corpses crushed against his
underside. She pulled herself up onto the broad back, careful of the
sharp scales rising and falling with each breath the dragon pulled. The
wings rose on either side of her, blocking out the sunlight with dark
red leather. Csyla held on tight as the Red took his first steps and
took a chance to look around at the landscape speeding by her.
The trees blurred into a streak of greens and browns beneath them as
the dragon took flight, the landscape quickly changing to solid blue as
they left the coast and headed over the ocean.
Hours later and still dripping sea water, Csyla scraped the dirt and
flower into a new pot and set it carefully on the windowsill.
Pocketing the shards of pottery, she knew she would never forget the
adventures of today.
Writer: Nistle
Date Tue Jan 20 09:41:09 2015
Writer: Nistle
Date Tue Jan 20 09:47:43 2015
Writer: Sithara
Date Tue Jan 20 10:32:13 2015
Writer: Liviya
Date Tue Jan 20 18:17:42 2015
To Verminasia All ( Marcaus Laleine Lowenir Traice Imm Religion Necrucifer )
Subject Going Black
Liviya shook with anger as she sat cross-legged on the platform
within the meditation room of the temple she had built. There had
been tears before, the product of overwhelming emotion rather than
true sorrow, but now there was nothing but rage.
She focused her mind inward, envisioning her own heart. She watched
it beat, feeling its echoes in her veins, and slowly she stopped
shaking. The rage coalesced within her, adding itself to her soul
until the dark gray she had become was black once more and the
heart she saw in her mind's eye was a chiseled hunk of black stone.
She wasn't ready yet to give the situation the critical analysis it
needed, to face the level of failure that had to have been present
for him to rally support against her so easily.
What she was ready for was the pure hatred she felt for him. In
her fingers she clutched the skeleton key she and Leithan had made
as children. It opened every door in her father's estate. At the
time, it had been primarily used for sneaking glimpses of things
they were not supposed to see, letting them in to peek at the work
in their mother's laboratory or the powerful and mysterious items
within the family vault. She had last used it to creep into the
estate and steal the black queen from her father's chessboard: a
souvenir marking the gaining of her lifelong dream.
She ran her thumb over the round parts of the key and jabbed her
fingers at the pointed ones, raising little spots of blood on the
pads of her fingertips.
She had a key. Now she needed a vorpal dagger. A sword or axe would
have been quicker and cleaner, but he had made this personal. She
wanted to saw his head from his neck one tendon at a time, to see
the muscles recoil and the veins snap and gush blood All over her
hands. She wanted to hear an arcanium blade grind against the bones
of his spine before severing the nerves they protected. She wanted
the life in his eyes to go dull while his sneer never left his face.
She wanted her final moments with her father to be intimate.
His powers would make it difficult, but not impossible. Her plan and
the execution thereof would have to be flawless, or it would be her
own life lost.
That would take practice. That would take time.
She took a deep breath and rose from her meditation.
Patience was a virtue.
Writer: Ozleust
Date Wed Jan 21 14:22:37 2015
Writer: Thargred
Date Wed Jan 21 21:59:37 2015
To Conclave All IMM Sebatis RP
Subject Sweatin' to the Oldies I
Thargred always seemed to be in a fairly decent mood, which was strange
for his race of dwarf. What was also weird was that unlike his dwarven kin
who were stocky, sturdy, stout, he was not. Not one bit. The fact was he
was fat. The kind of fat that some people would look his way and look at
him in silent surprise. His shirt strained to keep his belly covered. The
buttons looked like they would shoot off in All directions if he ate another
bite. His fingers were pudgy, his belly shook when he walked, and when he
looked down to his feet, he couldn't see them.
Instead of feeling sorry for himself, he owned up to his weight. He knew
what he had done to his body, and he knew it was time for a change. He saw
his kin and wanted to look like them. He headed out the portal with a piece
of parchment with a name and location. He was on another journey along with
the one he was on in the Conclave.
Writer: Cassioppia
Date Wed Jan 21 23:34:06 2015
To All IMM RP Religion Cliath
Subject Changes
Cassioppia spent her time between the Crafting Room tanning her whale
skins, or at the Vallhalla resting in front of the blazing fire having an
occassional glass of milk. So many changes have happened in her life that
her head was still spinning and she more tired every day. Since leaving the
Jewel and returning home to Nordmaar, she lost her diety, her husband, and
her life.
Now that she is home everything has changed. She sat there thinking about
how Haryk won her heart in his silly little ways and his persistance, how
they married in a nice quiet way promising their vows to each other under
the moonlit sky, and now expecting a little one to share their lives and
love with. Her life was almost complete. All that was left was for Father
Cliath to accept her and her life would be complete. She was quite content
now that even the plans for their home were submitted and waiting for it to
be built. She got comfortable in her favorite chair as she dreamed of all
the good things in her life as she slowly drifted off to sleep.
Writer: Kaelowyth
Date Thu Jan 22 01:19:09 2015
To All ( Roleplay )
Subject A reckoning?
Drip...drip...drip.
The sound of water droplets falling upon the polished stone floor was
almost thunderous in comparison to the deathly silence of the chamber.
The floor to ceiling windows were caked with alternating layers of dust
and rime, showing no sign of attention having paid to them in years.
Drip...drip...drip.
Irritation. That was his first waking emotion. He had watched the builders
align and mortar every single stone. He *knew* that there shouldn't be any
leaks. An eye heavy from magical sleep opened slowly to take in the room.
Everything was precisely as he had left it with not so much as a single
vermin's tracks marring the fine dust which had covered every surface. With a
growl and alacrity not expected from a recently-roused mortal, the elf moved to
seek the source of the drip. His eyes could not find a puddle or even spot the
falling water, yet the sound continued steadily.
Drip...drip...drip.
Cursing now, the Elf turned back to the dais that had held his slumbering form
for years - and that is when he saw a solid blotch of crimson marring the furs
which covered his bed. Looking down at his hands, the source of the annoying
sound became suddenly clear.
Upon his left wrist the black glyph which normally pulsed strongly with dark
energy appeared cracked and ragged. From the rents in his flesh came a steady
flow of blood. His hand must have slipped from the raised dais, the blood
dripping onto the floor in thunderous succession. In All of his centuries, he
had never seen any damage to the glyph - a remnant of the World Tree and aside
from his hair, the only reminder of his sacrifice.
What could it mean? It was with that thought, that the Elf realized just how
much he had seen and how tired he suddenly was. It was almost overwhelming,
and soon he found himself involuntarily slumping back onto the dais to gaze
out upon the sea separating Gyathoth from Icewall. Was he finally dying? Had
the Gods or even the greater powers finally tired of toying with him?
He almost called for aid before realizing that he had run All of his servants off.
He ruled over a dead and empty land now, a keep which once was planned to show
the strength and eternal nature of Zandreya's influence now desolate enough to deter
even treasure hunters and vermin. The irony of the situation sent Kaelowyth into
a sudden paroxysm of bitter laughter. "So what now?" He thought, knowing that not
enough blood had been spilled to be responsible for his weakness. What could it
all mean?
Defeated for the moment, he simply lay there, taking in the white-capped waves in
the distance. Whatever this was, it could not be good. For now he had nothing to
turn to. Faith had failed him. Family had failed him. King and Country had
failed him.
His own strength simply seemed to follow suit. After all, time brought about All things.
Writer: Thargred
Date Thu Jan 22 12:36:08 2015
To Conclave All IMM Sebatis RP
Subject Sweatin' to the Oldies II
His breath was short as he was straining to breathe. He swallowed hard
as he came up to a decent sized building on top of the large hill in
Althainia. Thargred brought his decanter up to his bearded face and poured
the cool water All over his head and face, then finally bringing it to his
lips and chugging. He coughed a bit and placed a chubby hand on a pillar of
the building, his body slumped some as beads of water dripped off his head
and beard and hit the ground. He gathered his composure and walked up the
couple steps and inside the building. The first thing he saw was a giant
wooden sign etched with the words Rich'ard Symons and Bylee Blaenks Extreme
Weight Loss.
"Ye go' tu bae kiddin' mae..? '
Various instruments of excersing were in different parts of the large
building. Sets of barbells were against a wall, a weight bench set off to a
corner, and various other things like belts and ropes hung on the walls.
Bursting through a door like two cannonballs fired at a paper ship were two
very, very large half ogres. Large as in the sense they were only a couple
feet shy of a giant ogre, and built like the mountains. One had a deep tan,
poofy curly hair, and was wearing what would make most men, probably most
people really uncomfortable if in public, a pair of tight short shorts, and
a shirt that showed off most of his chest. On his feet a pair of athletic
boots.
The other half ogre's skin was a deep deep dark black. He wore what one
would call a one piece, some hand wrappings, and like the poofy haired half
ogre, a pair of athletic boots.
Both half ogres moved to stand in front of Thargred, the differrence in
heigts made it very awkward for the dwarf. Dunna stare, dunna stare, dunna
stare... Is All he could think, then finally he looked up.
Writer: Amex
Date Fri Jan 23 19:37:32 2015
Writer: Sefony
Date Sat Jan 24 13:25:07 2015
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Sat Jan 24 14:07:11 2015
To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din
Subject Defending the Tower ''Furui Saves the Day'' (Chapter 2, Part One)
Uni'qlo breathed in the cool morning air deeply, as she slowly made her
way down the front steps of her cottage, and into the hustle and bustle of
the newly named 'Thimtax Loop', one of four such roads which encircled the
town. The elderly lady was making her way to the market, as she had done
every day since moving to Mart-Town.
The move was in fact her son's idea. With Uni'qlo's declining health and
advancing age, he felt the need to give up his wandering ways, and find a
place where he could both make a living and care for his loving mother. He
had heard of new opportunities with Ixi-Mart and the newly formed town
around the tower. Together, they came to the plain, and he built themselves
a small cottage.
And so, as had become her daily morning routine, Uni'qlo slowly hobbled
through the crowd towards her usual destination, her favored produce stand.
The old, diminuitive man behind the card smiled as he noted her arrival.
'Well hello, Madame Uni'qlo! And a fine morning to you! What can I do for
you today? '
The old lady smiled and answered in a soft, raspy voice. ''Hello, Mister
Purvins. A good morning to you as well. Today is my son's birthday, and I
am preparing him a nice lamb supper for when he returns from work this
afternoon. I need a few sprigs of rosemary, some marjoram, and a couple of
heads of garlic, please. ''
''A birthday dinner, eh? '' The old man smiled softly. ''Well, aren't you
a sweet, thoughtful mother? It just so happens, I bought an entire bushel
of fresh rosemary with me this morning. You know, All my herbs and produce
come freshly picked from the fields just north of Althainia, each and every
morning! ''
Uni'qlo chuckled and nodded in sage agreement. ''I did know that. And that
is why I come to you every day. Now. How much will I be owing you? ''
Purvins paused for but a moment, then replied, ''Seven silver will get you
all the rosemary you'll need, with some extra for drying out for later use.
A pouch of marjoram will run you three more. ''
The old man quickly scanned the cart before him, then added. ''Having a
bumper crop of elephant garlic this season. I couldn't keep it from growing
if I tried. Tell you what. Ten silver for the rosemary and the marjoram,
and I'll throw in the garlic for free. I'll even throw in some fresh
horseradish. I know you like to use it when you make your delicious mashed
potatoes. ''
Uni'qlo smiled broadly at the generosity of the elderly vendor. ''That's
very nice of you, and I thank you for it. Ten silver sounds like a fine
price, Mister Purvins. I've got it All right here, in my pur-''
The old lady's words were immediately halted as she felt something sharp
jabbing her in the back.
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Sun Jan 25 01:30:39 2015
To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din
Subject Defending the Tower ''Furui Saves the Day'' (Chapter 2: Part Two)
'J-just h-hand over the bag, lady. N-nobody has to get hurt. '
Uni'qlo froze in abject horror, as the nervous yet threatening cutpurse
increased the pressure on the bodkin he held to the small of the old lady's
back. She struggled to speak.
'W-what's going on? Why are you do-'
The thief abruptly cut off the terrified woman's words, as he reiterated his
demand.
'I'm not playing around, lady! Just hand over the purse! I don't want to
have to use this thing, but I will. Now, hand it over! '
'Hey! What in the hell do you think you're doing? '', the aging vendor
yelled, as he rose to feet behind the cart. ''You get your hands off of her
right now! '
''S-stay out of this, old man! Or you're gonna get it too! '' The now
clearly agitated thief looked around haphazardly. He noticed that his
brazen attack had begun to draw the attention of the surrounding townsfolk.
If he was to have any chance to escape, he had to act, and fast. Unwilling
to do the unthinkable and dispatch the old lady, he opted for the next best
alternative.
'Come on, lady! I don't have time for this! I need it! Oh, nuts to this!
'
With one swift motion, the frenzied thief shoved Uni'qlo bodily into
Purvins's produce cart, simultaneously removing the bodkin from the small of
her back, and raising it upward, cutting strap of her purse from around her
shoulder. Quarry in hand, the unscrupulous thief made a break for the gate
at the end of the road, as old lady and cart alike collapsed to the ground
in an avalanche of fruits and vegetables.
Purvins hastily made his way around to the front of the cart, coming to the
woman's aid.
'Madame Uni'qlo! Madame Uni'qlo! '' he called out urgently. ''Are you
alright? '
Uni'qlo reached for the vendor's outstretched hand, and with his help,
managed to extricate herself from the mountain of produce.
'I'm... I'm alright, Purvins. But, that man! He took my money! Help!
Stop Thief!! '
Writer: Grushg
Date Sun Jan 25 01:33:27 2015
Writer: Rmed
Date Sun Jan 25 15:31:22 2015
Writer: Ixi'kweez
Date Mon Jan 26 12:46:32 2015
To All Althainia Arkane Nordmaar Shalonesti Shalonesti_kingdom imm rp Scorn Austinian Zandreya Ehl'din
Subject Defending the Tower ''Furui Saves the Day'' (Chapter 2: Part Three)
Furui quietly made his way unnoticed through the everyday traffic on the
Outer Loop road, one of four such circular streets which wound their way
through Mart-Town. This had become a daily ritual for the meek, unassuming
man, clad in simple brown robes. He had been making his rounds throughout
the city for nearly ten weeks. And thus far, nothing but the slightest of
acknowledgements from any of the townspeople. It was almost as if he was
invisible.
This bothered the normally pleasant man to no end. He had moved to this
town in his human form, with the sole intention of making sure that his late
friend Thimtax's tower and town remained safe and just as the little gnome
had envisioned it. To do this effectively, Furui knew that meant gaining
not only an understanding, but the trust and respect of its inhabitants as
well. However, this was proving to be a more challenging task than he had
anticipated.
There seemed to be a clear disconnect between Furui and the softlings of
Mart-Town. Granted, he was offered polite nods and smiles as they passed
by, and thankfully, he had not taken part in, nor seen any conflicts since
his arrival. But beyond that, he had made no real connections of
significance.
''I do not understand. What is the problem? '' the frustrated man mused,
as he continued his leisurely trek around the town. ''I walk, talk, and
dress like the softling. I purchase from their markets. I live amongst
them, and cause no trouble. And yet, I might as well be a complete stranger
to them. Could it be, that they can sense I am different from them? I just
don't understand. Perhaps it would have been better, had I chose to keep an
eye on this place from afar. ''
His unusually pessimistic thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a raspy,
shrieking voice.
'Stop! THIEF!! '
Immediately, Furui wheeled around to face the direction of the scream. He
could not pinpoint its source in the crowd, but he quickly observed a man in
a black cloak running towards him at full speed, swiftly weaving his way
through the crowd. He was clutching what appeared to be a ladies' purse in
his right hand.
'A thief!? '
The man clad in simple black robes hissed in righteous indignation. ''How
-dare- he!? ''
Writer: Amex
Date Mon Jan 26 13:27:43 2015
Writer: Joselynn
Date Mon Jan 26 18:31:16 2015
To All ( Cliath ) RP IMM Religion
Subject A Long Path Home
At age five, Joselynn had watched the MacGregor fued in her home. Her
Granda' and her da' argueing over something she did not understand. Her da'
was so angry he took her mum and her and left Nordmaar with them. How she
missed her Granda' and Grandmum but her da' refused to return. They
wandered from place to place, never really settling anywhere and her mum
taught her All she needed of book learning and etiquette.
When she was fifteen, Joselynn met Brandien the young man who would become
her fiance. When she turned sixteen Brandien asked for her hand in marraige
and she accepted. There wedding was scheduled for the following year. Two
weeks later, Brandien left with a group of friends on a hunting trip for big
game in Tropica, it was the last time she would see him alive. He was
attacked by a wild beast on the savannah and his friends found his body and
returned with it so they could bury him with respect.
Her parents decided that, in her grief, they should return home. Joselynn
followed behind her family a few feet behind. Breaking into tears every so
often as the memories crossed her mind. After, what seemed like walking
forever, they finally camped for the night. She set up her tent and built a
nice roaring fire close to a felled tree where she could sit. After her
parents went to sleep, she sat there staring into the fire. She was so deep
in thought she had not heard the rustleing around the campsite or the
howling a bit away. She finally stood up and went to her tent and fell fast
asleep.
Joselynn awoke to screams piercing the nights quiet and tearing and
scratching as she could hear her parents tent being torn apart. She took a
torch and lit it and ran out of her tent and into a bunch of mangy mutts.
She swung the torch around wildly as she hit two of them and watched them
fall as at the same time calling to her parents. Blood was everywhere. She
scared the mutts so bad that they All ran away. She searched wildly for her
parents hoping they got away but feeling dread as she continued the search.
She finally found them hidden under some underbrush, still holding each
other, gone from this world.
Joselynn knelt down to pray "Father Cliath, Accept Da' and Mum into your
hands, give them peace only you can offer. I hurt Father and I look to you
for comfort as one of your fold. Please watch over me as I continue to live
for You. In Your name I pray. Amen.
She continued on her way to Nordmaar and, after some time, reached the
gates. She was the last of the line of the MacGregors on her side of the
family and she felt alone. Hopefully she would finally find a purpose in
the place she calls home.
Writer: Thargred
Date Tue Jan 27 03:26:00 2015
To Conclave All Sebatis IMM RP
Subject Sweatin' to the Oldies III
Rich'ard was the first to speak, and by speaking he was very animated,
"Hey there short fella! You came to the right place! " His voice was what
one would call, efeminate, and suprisingly a bit high pitched. His hands
rested on his hips as he spoke the last two words with a large smile on his
face.
Thargred closed his eyes for just a mere second thinking to himself, 'Dear
Sebatis, plaese 'elp mae. '
He opened his eyes then a large yellow hand wrapped fist punched the wall
right by the dwarf's face. He froze as Bylee pulled his arm back and began
to dance like a pugilist, moving his feet with skill and his arms the same.
"We gonna work you out, then work you in, then out again! We're gonna make
you the dwarf that you wanna be! "
Thargred looked up with wide eyes and some frozen fear and nodded. Rich'ard
jumped suddenly and did a split in the air, as he landed he clapped his
hands then pointed at Thargred, "Are you ready to run! "
Thargred shook his head quickly, "No! "
Rich'ard motioned to Bylee, Bylee went to a wall and gave it a bump with a
fist and up came a pice of the wall and inside that piece of wall was a
wolf. A large wolf. A large and hungry wolf with evil looking eyes, sharp
teeth and those evil eyes spotted his lunch. His meal was the fat pudgy and
round dwarf with the long beard.
Bylee had an intense look on his face as his hand was at the collar of the
wolf, holding tight. "You got two seconds to open that door and run! "
"Swaet Gods 'n' mercaey! " Those were the words Thargred screamed and
bolted out the door. Bylee let the wolf go and both half ogres laughed
wickedly.
Writer: Rmed
Date Tue Jan 27 17:25:48 2015
Writer: Elathan
Date Tue Jan 27 20:51:12 2015
Writer: Ulrog
Date Wed Jan 28 01:14:14 2015
Writer: Rikam
Date Thu Jan 29 12:52:04 2015
Writer: Ilimilipili
Date Fri Jan 30 06:10:10 2015
Writer: Dxutim
Date Fri Jan 30 10:12:11 2015
To All Xhyr'ryhx Drakkara Immortal RP
Subject The Crown of Anguish (1)
The immense shadow of the Ziggurat loomed over the coastal cliff and
stretched out over the Arsataw Yaa. The shade over the ocean seemed darker
and the rough waters surrounding it oddly still and almost misty within the
shadowed patch. Inside the temple's doors were dual symbols of Drakkara,
and Mencius. Remnants of the architect that created the complex. Atop of
the structure was the Shrine where the Ogre and the Minotaur stood. Between
them an incredibly dark, obsidian statue of a beautiful creature. Which was
in stark contrast to the worshipers, the Ogre was, well, an ogre. What
could be seen of the Minotaur's face that wasn't concealed within his cowl
was a marred visage. Scarred from magic and spears both, the permanent
disfigurement of a Gladiator. The cowl was pulled closely to his frame and
the minotaur's head was bowed in prayer along with the ogre, the hood
adorning Dxutim's head had two deserted holes at the top where his massive
horns once protruded, which would prove to be the Champion's final wound
within the arena, and the one that shamed him the most.
Xhyr'rhyx stood facing the statue in the middle of the room, but still a
fair distance away as the design of the shrine was in the shape of a
pentagon, the middle containing a deep expanse of black water preventing
anyone from coming within fifteen feet of the Midnight Mistress' effigy.
"Ah will pray fer your suffering, Chosen. "
Dxutim acknowledged the priest's words only by staring up into the
impossible darkness of the Shrine's vaulted ceilings.
"Malhavoc built this Ziggurat to exalt Her and gave his life for Her
glorifying the power She bestowed upon him. "
The hornless Minotaur moved toward the priest, looking him in the eye.
"The Shadowknight may have seen the act of letting me live furthering his
prophecy of doom. But before the world burns I must regain my strength.
You will help me, Ogre. "
Xhry'rhyx nodded and knelt before the statue of Drakkara so he may pray.
The menacing Minotaur looming in the background pulled his hood from his
head revealing the broken horns which still bled, as if the wound was
eternal.
As the priest prayed the pillars in the room and the pentagon on the floor
began to glow a strange blue. The hornless minotaur reared his head back in
an insane laughter that sent a chill down Xhyr'rhyx's spine as he prayed to
his Mistress.
Writer: Rmed
Date Sat Jan 31 09:05:50 2015
Writer: Iao
Date Sat Jan 31 10:14:50 2015
Writer: Ashbie
Date Sat Jan 31 11:09:40 2015
To Verminasia All Marcaus Claudette Rikam Randal
Subject Raising Hell: Barfight III
A much scrawnier man challenged her next. He was quick, but Ashbie was
quicker. A nimble sidestep of his first punch and a kick to the back of
his knee sent the man to the ground, crying out in pain. Ashbie sent her
elbow hard into his temple and he slumped unconscious.
"You're a sorry lot, All of ya," Ashbie said, "Come then, don't need to all
fall to me one at a time." The grin never left her face. She'd tamed her
pugnacious instincts but a good honest fight still managed to get her blood
pumping like nothing else could.
Two men stepped forward this time, fists raised and their disposition wary
as they approached her. One stood half a head taller than the other, but
they looked similar. Brothers, perhaps. They were roughly shaven with
dark brown eyes and close-cropped hair, each of them lean with ropey
muscle that corded around their limbs and necks. Scars ran across their
hands and faces. They were no strangers to fighting.
Yet, as they approached, Ashbie noticed how close they were to one another
as they drew near. She had to be quick and decisive in her actions. If the
fights lingered on enough, she would wear out quickly and be unable to
sustain enough fighting to keep her going and prove her point. Her victory
had to be absolute.
Ashbie waited until they were just out of reach, the two challengers
stopping as they assessed her. One thing that Ashbie's father, Rikam, had
taught her from an early age was to be quick. With quickness, one could
overcome a number of deficiencies in battle. Ashbie's hands flashed out,
and, expending as little movement as possible, she knocked the brothers'
heads into one another. Like ragdolls they fell to the ground in an
instant.
The crowd shifted uneasily. Clearly they had expected more from the two
men. Ashbie, however, simply grinned, "Come on then!" She shouted to the
crowd. Then the dam broke. Ashbie watched as the passive crowd became
a mob in mere moments.
The mob worked to her advantage. Unfocused, unguided, its members were
just as likely to fight one another as they were to target her. Ashbie
stood at the epicentre, watching as fists flew around her. She ducked
and feinted, doding blow after blow, sensing the subtle currents of battle
as it whirled around her. It was easy to incite further chaos. Ashbie's
hands worked deftly, guiding a fist aimed for her into another man's face.
She spit and kicked and misdirected with All of the precision and talent
born from a life of practice.
Ashbie was not immune to the violence she had created. The first blow she
felt glanced across her cheek, jarring her teeth and sending her rattling
backwards. Had it been her first fight, the blow might have stopped her
there. However, Ashbie had been in countless fights. She knew pain, and,
gritting her teeth, she delivered and equally fierce blow straight into a
woman's face. The woman's nose broke beneath her fist, the soft squishing
of cartilage giving way to the viciousness of the blow.
Bruises, cuts, and the concussive shock of pain developed across Ashbie's
face and body. Yet Ashbie pressed on, continuing to fight with the
fierceness of an animal about to die. Slowly, her challengers fell, whether
to her own blows or from the blows they inflicted on one another. Bodies
began to pile on the floor, but Ashbie remained standing.
In the end, there was only one, a ragged man with bloodshot eyes, a cut
lip and purple bruises scattered across his face. He staggered, sneered,
then fell as Ashbie tripped him and sent an elbow to his temple.
"Gods above..." Whispered the tavern keeper in dismay.
Ashbie turned to the man and grinned, she tossed him another small bag
filled with gold coins. "Tell them, when they wake up, that I'll be at
Castor Manor." Without another word she turned and walked out.
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