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Player Written Story Note Archive

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


Writer: Telthian
Date Tue Jun 19 11:31:20 2018

To All priests ( Imm Religion )

Subject A Treatise of Cloth

The Divine look down from heaven and they see All of Creation. From
their dwelling places do they gaze upon All the inhabitants of Algoron, from
the lowest mortal to Dragonkind. They who fashion the souls of All living
things, discern All their servants doings, and in turn, All living things
seek to know their Makers.

The Priesthood is the established center of Faith in the realm, the pillars
which uphold the Divine. We of the Cloth are as varied as the Gods
themselves. We are teachers, guides, historians, and soldiers.

But foremost, we are servants who tend to the very foundation of Algoron

This libram is intended as a general guide for any who devote themselves to
the Cloth, from Novitiate to High Priest, of the Pantheon of Light, Balance,
or Darkness.

I: Understanding the Cloth
II: Prayer
III: Progression
IV: Conduct
V: Temples
VI: Conversions
VII: Final Words of Guidance

Writer: Telthian
Date Tue Jun 19 11:32:57 2018

To All Priests ( Imm Religion )

Subject A Treatise of Cloth - I

I: Understanding the Cloth

The Priesthood is meant to be a the central establishment of Faith
throughout the entire realm of Algoron. It is expected that those of the
Cloth have a deep understanding of the principles of their own Deity, and in
time, the entire Pantheon of Algoron.

In the purest sense, we are servants. The Priesthood exists only to serve
the Divine. To spread their Word, to further their purpose, and to
strengthen their domain. In pursuit of this, we utilize many tools and
approaches that are shared throughout the Churches of the realm which will
be discussed within.

Whether we take up a sword or plowshare in our daily lives, the ultimate
purpose for doing so is service. Though a hierarchy exists within the
Churches, All mortals are equally infinitesimal and humbled before the

The Cloth is your covenant with the Divine. Though you will doubtless
encounter many who seek to tutor or otherwise influence your progression,
success and failure lies solely on your own shoulders.

At the End, there is only you and God.

Writer: Telthian
Date Tue Jun 19 11:38:06 2018

To All Priests ( Imm Religion )

Subject A Treatise of the Cloth - II

II: Prayer

There is no more effective means of conveyance to the Divine of what is,
what has been, and what will be, than the power of prayer. Though it is our
calling to revere and praise the Divine, the purpose of godly prayer is to
detail our accomplishments, plans, and matters of importance within the

Praise and gratitude are expected, but they are not the substance of prayer.
To be effective, consider them no more than introduction and conclusion.
Utilize the full breadth of prayer to mark progress, to demonstrate that
with each act, you build a chain of deeds and actions in perfect accord with
the will of the Divine.

To this end, it is wise to keep a prayer book as a record of each and every
prayer offered to the Divine. The purpose of this is to track your own
efforts and maintain a clear sense of your dialogue with the Divine. If
every prayer is marked and counted, you will maintain a clear sense of what
you have pledged, what projects you have completed, what failings you have
overcome, and what to do next.

Godly prayers should be offered on a regular basis. Mine own are offered as
a weekly or biweekly summation. Be clear, be concise, and detail All you
have done and plan to do in service to the Divine.

There is no teacher greater than experience, and I offer the following
example from my prayerbook:




I kneel before your divine image wrought by stone and fire, once again
offering my life to you. I have laid the foundations of your Prophecy with
each thunder of my heart and drawn the faithful to your purpose, putting
them to task. I pledge myself to this once again, the weight of your shadow
upon me an ever-present reminder of my sacred oath.

I have continued the tutelage of **** and ****, Yinn committed to serving
you as they make their way through perdition. Our dialogues have been
brief, but they offer prayer to you again. May you find them worthy or find
themselves cast aside.

I have furnished a young chromatic with eggs sufficient to construct a lair
so that they might grow strong in sanctuary and I have educated them in what
it means to serve the Pantheon. This monetary expense will not slow
construction of your Temple. May you find it, and this hatchling, worthy.

Beyond this, I spoke with **** again recently and he has requested more time
to 'digest' what is asked of him. I will be patient and guide him as best I
am able, if he is willing to put forth the effort.

Time will tell, but along with the Yinn, **** may be another worthy
petitioner to your service soon. I have seen him furnished with Word and
armament as they sojourn to Storm Keep.

In one week's time from today I will gather those who will listen of any
Faith and recount to them of the First Night - in which Your Power first
sublimated the Light and led to the world as we now know it.

These things I pledge to you in the truth of Your darkness, humbled before
your magnificence. This life is but one, and there is no Master but You.

Ambactus a Caligo.

Writer: Telthian

Date Tue Jun 19 11:40:00 2018

To All Priests ( Imm Religion )

Subject A Treatise of Cloth - III

III: Progression

Whether a new Novitiate to the Cloth or an established Monsignor, many
mark progress within the Cloth by status, and rank. To rely upon this as a
measure of one's worth and growth is a mistake that leads to miseries. Some
of modest status have produced important defining works within a Faith.

It is a fact that the Gods favor the exceptional. Those who anticipate the
needs and desires of the Divine and bring them into creation on their own,
without instruction, stand apart from those who are reliant upon guidance.

Create a plan within your Faith of what you can offer that moves the
understanding, domain, history, or some other unexplored territory forward.
Be ambitious. Establish this as a long term goal and set your focus upon
it. Do this, and status within the Church will come on its own.

Your time spent within the Church does not equate nor guarantee progress.
The sooner you accept this the more likely you will be successful.

Seek a mentor within the Cloth with sound judgment who is respected by their
Pantheon. They do not need to be of your own Faith, but learn from the
experience of others who have established themselves.

For a Novitiate, finding your voice and establishing yourself within the
Church should come quickly once your training is complete. This can be done
in the form of a sermon or gathering, or through written word. Be
consistent and steady in your effort and use these opportunities to interact
with those of your and other faiths.

Liturgy, gatherings, and missives are simple, defined measures of service
and represent the bulk of the labors of the Cloth. Though many do so, it is
not necessary to be akin to a town crier and offer the same dialogue or send
the same missive on a regular basis. There exist many opportunities beyond
these, and there is no singular recipe or checklist.

On occasion, as one progresses in status within the Church, we may be tested
or given specific command. Take heed to any instruction and be true to the
principles of your Divine Patron. These trials will demand much of you and
often those of your Faith, but it is your burden. Be generous to those who
assist you.

There are many unconventional ways to develop within the Cloth. Combine the
rote and traditional methods, such as sermons, with creative and new

As progress is made and rank is obtained, more is expected of you over time
and effort, and less guidance may be forthcoming. If your ambition is to
rise within the Cloth, you are looked to as a leader of thought and Faith.

Do not await tasks or trials, but look upon the Realm and find opportunities
to serve the Divine.

Be creative and expand the boundaries of what exists within your Faith.
Much has never been explored, and many things have become forgotten over the
steady procession of time.

Writer: Telthian
Date Tue Jun 19 11:41:30 2018

To All Priests ( imm Religion )

Subject A Treatise of Cloth - IV

IV: Conduct

Act as a model servant of your deity with each word and action. This
holds true of Light, Balance, and Dark.

All of the Gods and their Avatars are to be respected. They may be your
enemy, but their Divinity is unquestionable.

Respect All who serve the Cloth, whether at your rank, higher, or lower.

Be mindful that your behavior, both public and private, reflects upon the
Divine and your own influence within Church and Pantheon. The truth of your
words is undercut by your actions and the messenger is just as important as
the message imparted.

Do not ask the Divine to serve your needs. There are times we are in need
of guidance, but we exist to serve the Divine. They do not serve us, nor do
they have patience for mortal tribulations and frailties. Search your
understanding of your Faith to find resolution. The Gods favor those who
solve problems, not those who create them. Think for yourself and press

Do not lower yourself to pettiness. You will be called upon to mediate
conflicts within the Faith, and assuredly one party will attempt to use your
position within the Cloth for their own ends. Do not fall into this trap.
Do not mix the Church with personal or political conflicts.

Do not use your status within the Cloth for personal retribution. To do so
demeans the foundation of your Church, is an insult to your Diety, and
weakens your Word.

Do not call for excommunication or for one to be shunned by your Deity.
This is not the purpose nor the place of the Priesthood. A servant does not
dictate to their Master, and you will squander your credibility when your
call goes unanswered.

Do not conflate the needs of a Kingdom with the needs of a Church. While
many places within Algoron have a patron deity, the needs of a Kingdom are
far different than that of the Church. Favor with the Divine does not equal
right to rule.

Your status does not set you above others. Rank within the Church is hard
won, but it is but one piece of a whole. You cannot rely solely upon it.

Remember always that you are a servant.

Writer: Telthian
Date Tue Jun 19 11:43:05 2018

To All Priests ( imm Religion )

Subject A Treatise of Cloth - V

V: Temples

In this Age, upon obtaining the rank of Deacon, a priest may begin
construction of a place of worship dedicated to their Deity. With each
rank, the place of worship may be expanded upon and can serve as protected
gathering places for individuals of the same Faith.

Unlike prior ages, the current Temples must be constructed within two
leagues of an established city, and require approval of the host city's
ruler. As well, only one temple is permitted per deity and as such, it is
wise for any of the Cloth who wish to build a temple to stake their claim in
a given location as soon as possible.

The design and use of the Temple is at the priest's discretion and provides
for unique opportunities unavailable to many. Take the time to visit
temples of your Faith and design your own to reflect a unique facet of your

It is expected that a Priest will construct a temple in their own time, but
the Divine may well mandate it. Expect and plan to do so - this is a
singular gift not to be squandered.

Writer: Telthian
Date Tue Jun 19 11:44:07 2018

To All Priests ( Imm Religion )

Subject A Treatise of Cloth - VI

VI. Conversions

The mortal races are fraught with frailties of mind and body, and it is
no surprise that frailty of the soul is just as common. Doubt and
uncertainty can find cracks in the sturdiest of honors, the most resolute of
minds. As Clergy, given enough time, you will meet those who flirt with
conversion. It is a laborious process, in time and effort, for the Gods are
not as fickle as the mortal races they created.

The aspirant of a conversion must realize the Priest only reveals the path,
it is up to the aspirant to walk it. In this, a Priest may educate and
guide, but a successful conversion demands infinitely more of the aspirant
than the Priest who guides them.

The aspirant must show consistent effort through prayer, missives to the
Church, and a clear and justified reasoning for their conversion. Without
these things, the aspirant will fail. A Priest can only facilitate and
guide, it is the aspirant who must make the effort and demonstrate the
required devotion.

The Divine know the contents of a mortal's soul. Conversion is not a prize
to be won, is never guaranteed, and many mortals are plagued with a fickle
nature. Be judicious if you choose to assist those who seek conversion.
You are judged just as the aspirant is by your God. Their effort should
exceed yours, but it is your place to help the aspirant understand what is
expected, and how to find acceptance.

Writer: Telthian
Date Tue Jun 19 11:46:27 2018

To All Priests ( Imm Religion )

Subject A Treatise of Cloth - VII

VII. Final Words of Guidance

The Gods do not want fair-weather servants. To take up the mantle of
the Cloth is to make a covenant with the Divine, and it is the Priest who
drives the relationship.

Devise your own goals and bring them into the world in the tradition and
teachings of your Faith. This is what the Divine want from their servants.
Do not wait on command or word, do not rely upon inspiration or signs.

Though much emphasis is mistakenly placed by priests upon rank, and the
Cloth is not about title or status. These things are only trappings. It is
expanding the borderlines that make up the knowledge of your Church and
Faith that will sustain you.

You will require the help and sacrifice of others as you attain status and
are challenged by the myriad of forces the Divine contend with. Be
grateful, be humble, and find a way to reward those who assist your effort.

All are served by establishing their voice within the Church and seek
council of those who have come before. There are many avenues of success,
and you must find your own without travelling too far astray. Study what
others have done well, and use it to add your own perspective.

Be known and be visible, but do not feel compelled to issue the same public
call continually, or circulate the same writings and scripture on a frequent
basis, nor offer the same godly prayers.

Continued effort is important, but substance matters. Be authentic, be
creative, and use variety to build a body of work for the benefit of others
and offer something new to your Church.

Plan your efforts with a steady, measured pace so you do not exhaust your
creativity and passion.

Events should be as varied as the stars in the sky. There countless
bloodlettings and symbolic sacrifices and candle lightings. Ritual and
ceremony does not need to be predictable.

Prepare for your sermons and gatherings and be concise. Use them to tell
stories and history of importance, and with very rare exception should you
deliver the same sermon twice.

Respect those who offer their time in listening to the Word.


Writer: Wyltte
Date Wed Jun 20 20:12:36 2018

To All Necrucifer Imm RP Religion

Subject Lost City - Eastdrift Redoubt - Awakened VIII

The bones in his hand started to move... Or so Wyltte thought. They
were cold to the touch, but the cold became so intense it was almost like a
stinging pain piercing the outer layer of his skin. He winced, trying to
hold onto the small fragments before the cold was so intense he
instinctively pulled his hand back and watched in horror as the plummeted
down into the flame.

Wyltte tried to reach in and grab out the fragments but it was too late.
The dryness of the bones instantly ignited into a flame that shot up at
least two feet. Wyltte moved his face away from the fire as it grew immense
for the briefest of movements, blinding him. He turned his face, feeling
sparks from the flame hitting his cheek. When the bright light seemed to
subside, he looked back towards the flames and blinked several times, trying
to see what had come of the bone fragments. His mouth fell open at the
sight, shaking his head in disbelief.

The soldiers around him were still fast asleep, the flare from the flames
raging on but eminatting a cold unlike he had ever felt. He stood up and
stared at a veritable wall of cold fire. Unable to resist, he reached out
and placed his hand in the middle of the inferno. He quickly pulled it back
as his hand was met with an empty sensation akin to desperation. He did not
feel the chilling fire on his hand, but he did feel it in his soul.

There was an image burning in the center of the the curtain of flames,
practically crystal clear. The burning wagon, the forest trail south of the
city. It was the moment which defined his life... The moment where
everything was taken from him. Wyltte saw himself as a toddler,
bloodstained cheeks and sooty face wandering around the wreckage, crying in
confusion. The bear armor his father wore with its glowing red eyes glared
at him until he heard the last gasps of a dying man escaped the massive
man's lips. A pulsating red stone fell from the eye sockets of the bear.

He watched his younger self pick up the stone, then lay his head on his
father's chest and weep. From somewhere on the outskirts of the forest he
heard a blood-curdling scream. The voice seemed both vaguely unfamiliar and
recognizable at the same time. In shock and in curiosity, he wanders over
to the edge of the forest. Schwick! A crimson spray splatters his face as
he let out a silent scream. He saw a flurry of movement in the underbrush
and heard an object slam into the ground, a wet smack heard over the
crackling of the fire which consumed his family's corpses and belongings.

Wyllte wandered over to the object, spying a small dainty hand cleaved from
its owner. He didn't know why he picked it up, but in his brain he reasoned
someone lost it and wanted it back. Like in a dream, he lumberedand around
the ambush site for what felt like an eternity, unknowing what to do. His
stomach started to grumble and he headed towards a worn trail head at the
forest's edge. Wyltte took the first step down the path, but not before
feeling eyes burning into the back of his skull. He turned towards the
feeling, but there was nothing there. Just the faint crackling of something
wandering in the woods...

Wyltte turns from his fire gazing and looks around. From deeper in the
wooded grove, there was the soft crackling of something moving itself
through the snow. Wyltte cups his hands to his mouth and gave out the
auditory signal. "Caw, Caw!" He mimics the sound of the crow as he had
told others. Crows did not venture this far North, so there was no worry of
false signals. No response. Keeping a blade strapped at his side, he
tightens the bearskin cloak around his shoulders he was gifted and steps out
into the deeper woods.

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Wed Jun 20 23:47:14 2018

Writer: Tarkan

Date Fri Jun 22 10:43:25 2018

To All shokono arkane RP

Subject Letters on Wistful Wings I

{nTarkan approached the dock, a messenger sea hawk perched on a leather
{ngauntlet adorning his arm. With a flourish of his arm, he released the hawk
{nin the general direction of Shokono. As he saw the hawk fly away, he
{nreflected on the letter he wrote to the farm girl he met that one day...

My Dearest Tomoko,

My journeys take me far and wide, but with every step I take, my thoughts
continually return to Shokono. The circumstances upon which we met were
haphazard, I know, but I still remember them fondly.

Do you remember? You were picking cherries from your father's orchard when
you sighted me. You nearly screamed when you saw my face! Was that really
the first time you've ever seen a Yinn? To be honest, I wanted to know
where that wonderful singing was coming from. But when I heard you whimper
for me not to eat you, I knew that I had to act quickly.

I was so relieved that you had a change of heart when I reached for that top
branch and shook it for your basket. You nearly drowned in cherries.

If it is not too much trouble, I would love to return to Shokono again to
see you. Would your family be opposed to a non-human in their midst? I
understand if they would not be too keen on allowing an "Oukamijin" in their

I look forward to hearing from you soon,

Tarkan of Arkania

{nTarkan watched wistfully from underneath his tagelmust at the hawk that
disappeared into the northern horizon. "Winds carry you swiftly, dear
friend," he muttered, before turning eastward towards the field trail that
led back to the city.

Writer: Tarkan
Date Fri Jun 22 16:19:50 2018

To All Shokono Arkane RP

Subject Letters on Wistful Wings II

{nThe sea breeze blew across Tarkan's fur, whisking the heat away from his
body that he had worked up from the long hike westward from the city.
Pulling out a miniature spyglass from his belt pouch, he looked northward
for any sign of a hawk.


With a long sigh, he sulked a bit on his feet before finding a nearby stump
to plop down on, closing his eyes to think about his journeys.


{nThe Yinn's ears jerked wildly underneath his hood, neck twisting abruptly to
face the source of the sound. Behind him was the sea hawk, perched on a
branch, early on arrival. {n"You're early," Tarkan said, slipping on a
leather gauntlet and extending his arm. The hawk fluttered over to him and
perched on his wrist. With his free hand, Tarkan took the scroll attached
to the hawk's leg and unfurled it, reading the letter...


I hope this message finds you with no trouble. I want to thank you again
for your warm demeanor and your readiness to help with my errand. My
parents were very strict about that day's yield, and singing helps with my
anxiety sometimes.

Yes, that's the first time I've ever seen a Yinn! I've heard stories from
the merchants and travellers, but that was the first time I've ever seen one
in person! You are so big! You must have a large appetite too, no? Is it
true that Yinn will eat an entire cow in one day?

Maybe it is better to ask you more questions about you when you return. I
would be more than happy to host your homestay with us. I will let my
family know. My father is actually a pellar for our community, so he will
likely consider you to be a good omen.

Please come back soon! I look forward to learning more about you and about

Best Wishes,

Tomoko of Shokono

{nAs the SeaQuest rang the docking bell, Tarkan took out a single silver and
offered it to the hawk, which opened its beak and clamped on the coin before
darting off into the sky to whichever postmaster it answered to. The
gangplank lowered, and Tarkan didn't wait for the crew to offload cargo to
charge up the ramp.

Writer: Shilo
Date Fri Jun 22 16:24:52 2018

To All Althainia Abaddon ( IMM RP Taliena )

Subject The Bitter Pill (Vampire Chronicles)

Trapped in the prison of her own mind, the ariel fought desperately
against the fear and the pain and the doubt that encrouched upon her
from every side. She knew that others were near and were watching,
trying to aid her - knew, and could not respond. Her world dwindled
down to a single, solitary sensation - the agony of burning, the
terrifying destruction that threatened to consume her. There was no
one else - no one who cared, and nothing to live f--

As the blood ran down the young ariel's wrist, her wings curled in
protectively about her form. The throbbing sting of the knife helped
to clear her head - to give context to the false pain coursing along
the pathways of her brain. With clarity came the echo of Cieran's
words, only half-heard at the time:

"They only show you hollow images because they lack the power to
actually act. They live in a world of dreams."

The demon could not keep her; its power was limited. This was clear to
her now - the power of the demon to harm her was limited by her own
willingness to inflict pain upon herself. Storm blue eyes gazed down
at the ruin of her wrist - at the blood that still swelled and flowed
from her vein. A clattering of silverware nearby reminded her that she
was not alone - and when had she come to the cafe? Hastily, she caught
a napkin from the table, wrapping it about her wrist and staunching the
flow of blood. It was not a perfect means of defense - but for now at
least, it would have to do.

"Please...could I...could I have a cup of tea? Please?"

Writer: Tarkan

Date Fri Jun 22 20:17:59 2018

To All Shokono Arkane RP

Subject Letters on Wistful Wings III - Bigger Fish to Fry

{nPlodding down the gangplank, Tarkan removed his taglemust and took in
deeply the scents of Shokono. Mostly, it was the scent of fish, being that
he was at the dock, but being a Yinn, he could pick up the smell of fried
Takoyaki on street carts from even a mile away.

{nUp the stairs to the city, he climbed. He pulled back his hood in full,
letting it fall to the nape of his neck. As he did so, he was surrounded by
gasps and the scurrying of hastened footsteps. Whispers of "Oukamijin!
Oukamijin!" {nCame to his ears as he continued on his way towards the city.
A small child ran up to Tarkan, shouting, "Look, mommy! Big wolfie!" Only
to be followed by a less-than-pleased mother that abruptly picked up the
child and ran off towards the gawking crowds. {nTarkan didn't mind. He was
used to being gawked at. Yinn did not have the best of reputations back on
the mainlands, but who knows what the thoughts were of these isolated,
superstitious people.

{nTarkan followed his nose towards the city center where he stopped by a food
cart vendor. "Irrashiaim--" the vendor greeted Tarkan, cutting himself off
{nas he looked up from his stock. "--... Ma... Se..." The vendor froze,
seemingly in terror. Tarkan simply grinned and said, "Ikko no Takoyaki wo
onegaishimasu." The vendor stared at Tarkan, then started to scramble,
muttering, "H-hai...!" {nThe vendor's hands shook as he scrambled the batter,
stirring the octopus chum into the fried shortening.

{n"The cherry grove farm..." Tarkan inquired, "What's the fastest way to it?"
He asked the vendor. The vendor snapped to attention and stuttered, "T-to
the western road!" He said nervously. An awkward wait ensued where Tarkan
patiently stared at the food stock being prepared into neat fried balls of a
traditional octopus snack. {nAs it was served, Tarkan smiled a toothy grin to
the vendor, saying, "Itadakimasu!" The vendor only nervously smiled,
nodding repeatedly in quick succession. "T-that'll be a dozen silver,
p-please..." {nThe vendor said, flinchingly. Tarkan took out a gold piece
and slid it to the vendor, saying, "Buy more spices." The vendor accepted
the gold piece with a shaking hand, saying nervously, "Y-yes! Of course!"

{nAfter finishing off the fried snack, the Yinn stood up, patting his stomach
and saying, "Gochisousama." As he turned around, he noticed quite a
gathering of folk observing him just to eat. Saying nothing, he headed out
the western gate.

Writer: Tarkan

Date Sat Jun 23 05:17:47 2018

To All Shokono Arkane kingdom RP military army

Subject Letters on Wistful Wings III-2 - Interlude

Dear Tarkan,

Thank you for your choice of service to the...

{nAs Tarkan trekked the side of the road, his eyes went over the letter of
congratulations blankly. It was nice that the local magistrate wanted to
wish him well in choosing to join the Arkanian military, but the letter
smattered of protocol instead of any genuine well-wishing.

{nTarkan knew what he signed up for. He had a big job ahead of himself. The
General he would answer to wasn't even promoted, but rather contracted. If
Tarkan was going to whip Arkane into shape... He had big shoes to fill.

{nBut there was no uniform. No badge. No lapel. No chevrons. Nothing. It
almost seemed to be a hollow title as it was a lowly one. "I guess," Tarkan
said half-bemusedly, "I start my career in the reserves, first."

Writer: Tarkan
Date Sat Jun 23 13:29:47 2018

To All Shokono Arkane Kingdom RP

Subject Letters on Wistful Wings IV

As Tarkan climbed to the top of the hill, he came to a very modest hut of
logs and straw. It was very clear that Tomoko belonged to a family of poor
farmers. She mentioned, however, that her father was a pellar. Tarkan
asked himself why a pellar wouldn't exploit his talents to provide better
for his family, but the answer came as quickly as the question: to be closer
to nature. "Probably a devotee of Zandreya..." He muttered.

Tarkan knocked on the door. A man in his emerging elderly years answered
the door wearing peasant garb and a necklace of tooth and bone. "And the
Wolf comes. Hungry..." The pellar said cryptically while extending his
arms, "... But to feed it is to earn its loyalty! Come, come! I've been
expecting you!" The pellar placed an arm around what he could of the
oversized Yinn, managing to press a hand to Tarkan's lower back as he had to
crouch down to enter the hut.

Tarkan entered into the hut. It was spacious enough for him, which said
something given his own size, with an open-floor layout and a firepit in the
middle outfitted with a stone chimney. The pellar went back to his pot in
the fire and resumed stirring what smelled to be boiled millet. "I know why
you have come, dear Wolf," the pellar said, "the bones told me all. You
will find that which you seek. But beware, wolf..." The pellar stopped
stirring to look the Yinn squarely in the eyes, "... War comes. The
ultimate battlefield. And though you will be victorious in battle, you will
lose the war."

Tarkan took the words in quietly and meditated on them a bit, pondering the
hidden meaning behind them when his concentration was broken. "Father...!"
Chimed a voice that could rival a songbird. "Father, Kenji said he's
heading to he market to-" Tomoko stopped to cover her mouth and gasp.
"Tarkan!" She exclaimed, "You've arrived!"

Tarkan smiled to Tomoko and waved. The Shokonese farm girl quickly sat
orthogonal to the Yinn, and looked to her father. "Well, don't just stare
at the Yinn, father!" She said. The pellar smirked knowingly to Tarkan,
glanced to Tomoko, then turned back to serve millet from the ladle to the
bowls. "Tomorrow is blood. Tonight, however, is wine."

Writer: Tarkan
Date Sun Jun 24 11:02:04 2018

To All Shokono Arkane Kingdom RP

Subject Letters on Wistful Wings V

Tarkan woke up to the welcome sound of gentle humming. By the hearth, he
spotted the silhouette of Tomoko eclipsing the firelight as she was stirring
the morning rice. Tarkan's stirring creaked the floorboards underneath the
futon cloth, and Tomoko turned over her shoulder with a smile. "Good
Morning!" She said in a sweet chime, "Breakfast is almost ready."

A knock at the front threshold heralded the coming of another person.
Tomoko set down the ladle to answer. "Kenji! Good morning," she said as
the figure entered. The figure looked down at Tarkan and then dropped to a
stance, exclaiming, "O-oukamijin!!"

Tarkan sprung to his feet, hunching low and growling as he interpreted the
stance as a threat. Tomoko rushed in front of Tarkan and spread out her
arms. "No, Kenji! He's friendly! He's our guest!" She protested. Kenji
glared past Tomoko's shoulder down at Tarkan, and relaxed his stance, but
his fists were still clenched. "Why have you invited this Oukamijin into
your home? He'll turn and eat you at any moment! Their kind only live to
dominate others!"

Tarkan growled loudly, and barked out in a booming voice to Kenji, "You.
Know. NOTHING. Of my people, whelp." Tomoko abruptly turned around and
pouted. "You're not helping, Tarkan! Please! No fighting!" Tarkan
relaxed, and stood upright slowly. "So long as I am a guest in this
household, it doesn't matter if they serve me rice. I do not eat those dear
to me."

The pellar rushed in from outside. "What is the commotion? Kenji...
Please, do not rouse the Oukamijin! His presence here is a good omen!"
Kenji rolled his eyes, "Old man, EVERYTHING to you is a good omen. When
will you wake up and realize that the world is not as friendly?" The pellar
scowled at Kenji, "Only unfriendly people make an unfriendly world,
Kenji..." Kenji scoffed, then turned his attentions to Tomoko. "Tomoko...
The real reason I am here is to propose to you. I've been thinking about
you for a long time, and... I wish for you to be with me." Kenji said

Tomoko was beside herself. "I-I..." She stammered, clearly caught
off-guard by the sudden proposal. "Please, Kenji! This is so sudden! Give
me some time to think!" She said, rocking back and forth on her feet and
swooning. Tarkan extended a hand and caught Tomoko as she fell, his hand
nearly able to grasp her petite body completely. He leered at Kenji. The
pellar spoke up. "Kenji! First you come to my home and disrupt the harmony
of our guest's welcome, then you have the audacity to propose in the spirit
of adversity! Go! Leave now! Come back when you've meditated on what it
means to push prudently rather than unabashedly! Shoo!" The pellar made
shooing motions to Kenji, who scoffed at the old man and stormed out.

Turning to Tarkan, the pellar apologized, "I'm so sorry... Kenji is brash
and impulsive. I am afraid for Tomoko if she ever did say yes to that
man-child." He looked down to his daughter, and gently wrested her from the
support of Tarkan's hand. Laying her down on Tarkan's futon, he then went
to the hearth. "If it's not too much to ask, could you lend a hand in the
grove while I prepare breakfast?" He asked. Tarkan nodded. "I'll be sure
to reach the top branches. I'll be back shortly," the Yinn said before
heading off to the orchard.

Writer: Tarkan
Date Sun Jun 24 14:39:39 2018

To All Shokono Arkane Kingdom RP

Subject Letters on Wistful Wings VI - Tori to Hachi ni Tsuite

{uHours of that morning turned to a full day of stay. A day turned to a
week, and Tarkan helped Tomoko's family on their farm during his homestay.
Throughout his stay, Tarkan and Tomoko grew close. They would spend many
hours talking... Tarkan with stories of Arkania, and Tomoko about various
legends, lore, and culture of Shokono. Then, one evening, the duo ventured
into the orchard for the daily round of work. After the work was done, the
two rested under one of the trees...

"Tarkan?" Asked Tomoko, "Is it true that Yinn are considered to be..." She
trailed off on the statement. Tarkan tried finishing the sentence.
"Anathemas? Pariahs? Outcasts? Try All of the above," he said, chuckling.
"Our people are few. Most of us take up mercenary work, but we Yinn have a
bad habit of dying off due to pushing our luck and limits a bit too far."
Tomoko shook her head, "I mean, was it true what Kenji said? That most of
your kind live to dominate?" Tarkan sighed, "Once upon a time, this was
true. We are a proud race... We excel at nearly everything we do. This
intimidates a great deal many." Tomoko looked down in silence a moment,
then spoke up. "... I'm glad you're not like that. You've been kind and
reliable." Tarkan turned to Tomoko and smiled.

Tomoko scooted over to nestle up to Tarkan as the wind blew past them. "I'm
not sure how I feel about Kenji. He's... Well... Also reliable, but..."
She trailed off again, looking for words. Tarkan once again tried to finish
the sentence. "He only succeeds due to perseverence." Tomoko looked at
Tarkan, and blurted out. "I wish he never proposed to me. The only reason
I might say yes is because we grew up together. I know him, but... He's so
pig-headed! I don't want to be his wife!" Her tone was filled with
anxiety. Tarkan lifted his arm and placed it around Tomoko in comfort.
Tomoko nestled in closer to Tarkan, and whispered, "... Given the chance,
I'd rather marry someone more understanding and patient." She looked up to

Tarkan nodded sagely, but then snapped to attention when he realized that
subtlety was part and parcel of Shokonese culture. He blinked a few times,
then turned to Tomoko. "Is there another reason you don't want to say yes
to him?" Tomoko didn't respond despite Tarkan's efforts to coax a more
direct discourse. She simply stayed nestled into Tarkan's torso, and
whispered, "... You're warm." She then looked up at Tarkan, and Tarkan
looked to Tomoko. They were left at staring for a while, albeit in very
close proximity to each other. Another gust blew, stronger than the last,
and it rocked Tomoko to lean in closer to Tarkan's muzzle. Neither Tarkan
nor Tomoko moved, but Tomoko did close her eyes slowly. Tarkan did the
same, and pressed his face close into Tomoko's with a gentle impact.

On a distant knoll, Kenji clenched his fist in rage as he witnessed the

Writer: Arreana
Date Sun Jun 24 18:27:30 2018

To All Imm Religion Taliena

Subject A Desperate Prayer

A tear streaked its way down Arreana's cheek, only to hover on her jaw before
falling to the temple floor.

They had lost.

It had always been easier for Evil. They only needed to capture half of the
shards that Good needed. But there was always hope. Always. Arreana had
witnessed the tremendous things that had been done in the name of Goodness.
They had poured out their pockets of money, but Evil had more. They had battled
on Raije's battlefield, only to be betrayed.

Goodness had banded together on ships to repel Evil, but their hopes were sunk
on that day too.

But then something amazing happened, and the dawn began to shine. They fought
again, on the red moon, and they won. They played the most high stakes game of
poker ever, and won. They managed to procure a shard that Fort Ironclad won in
a tournament. The Knights of Gareth defeated a powerful and ancient foe.

Ever they walked on a tightrope, knowing in the back of their minds that Evil
only needed one more shard. One. If they managed to obtain it, All hope of
transporting Nadrik safely would be lost.

Arreana's wings spread out and arced, curled halfway around her as though they
were a protective shield. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now. She'd
dropped her gaze from Taliena's visage to stare at the floor.

She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. A painful memory flashed before her


Ashes smouldered around her. It was in her wings, her hair, her eyes. She could
taste it upon her lips and feel it in the folds of her ears. The whole world
seemed to be ash. Or, at least, her whole world was ash.

All around her were the remnants of Arreana's village. The trees were only
husks. All of the dwellings laid in ruin. If not ash, they were as close as
one could get without becoming ash.

Everything was gone. Arreana had watched her father die in front of her. She'd
escaped with her mother, only to get separated and stumble upon her corpse
hours later. Four days it took. Four days before she could return to the village
and see what Malachive had took.

His followers had taken everything. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe.


A tremendous sadness gripped Arreana's heart. She'd built and found a new life
in the world outside. She had a new home, and had committed herself to the work
of the gods.

But then they lost Kadiya. And now... Nadrik was closer to death than life.

They could not save him. Not with the shards, at least. Surely the gods of
Goodness wouldn't let Evil take that final blow without a fight. They would need
everything their followers could give to them. It was the only hope. The only

Arreana felt her tears dry up. She lifted her gaze to meet Taliena's visage once
more. Her hands curled into fists.

They would fight. Even if they lost, they would still have something: each
other. She would stay in Taliena's temple, meditating, praying, preparing for
whatever battle took place. And she would offer a service. A service to prepare
others, not only for the fight, but for the likely need to mourn. If the fight
ended in tears, at least they would hold their heads high, knowing they gave

There was hope.

Writer: Tarkan
Date Sun Jun 24 19:03:00 2018

To All Shokono Arkane Kingdom RP

Subject Letters on Wistful Wings VII

The pellar, his wife, and Tomoko All waved to Tarkan as he boarded the
Golden Koi. On the gangplank, Tarkan turned around, tightening the fit of
his cloak and taglemust. He waved in kind. The pellar called out, "Be well
on your path, and let adversity make you stronger!" Tomoko raised an
eyebrow briefly to her father, but then again, being the pellar's daughter
lent credence to the idea that she'd have been used to her father's cryptic
mystical ramblings now and again.

Tomoko rushed up to Tarkan, embracing her arms about the immense Yinn's
waist, nestling her face into his stomach and said, "Please come back to me!
Next time you come back, I want you to take me with you to Arkania!" Tarkan
chuckled, saying, "I promise. Next time I see you, I am taking you to
Arkania with me." The pellar heard those words, and a look of hollow morose
came over him. Tarkan took note. "Something the matter, pellar?" He
asked. The pellar paused a moment, and said, "N-no... The bones have
foretold your return and that you will indeed keep your promise to take
Tomoko to Arkania. It's just..." He forced a smile, "... Don't worry
about it. And if she chooses to stay, then you have my blessing to be her
host as we have hosted you."

Tarkan was taken completely by the Pellar's kindness. He bowed to the
Pellar, "I will make sure that when we are done, I will bring her back to
Shokono." The Pellar looked a bit anxious. "A-ah... That will not be
necessary, you see-" Tarkan quirked an eyebrow, "Hm? What do you mean? You
don't wish for your daughter back?" The pellar shook his head vehemently,
"That's not it! I mean to say..." He nervously looked for words, "... If
Tomoko wishes to stay, she has our blessing. That is all." He forced
another smile. Tarkan tilted his head. He sensed something amiss, but he
couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

Looking down at the petite woman that embraced him, Tarkan knelt down to
return the embrace warmly in kind, nuzzling into Tomoko's neck and cooing in
a low, gentle growl. Tomoko giggled, then released the embrace to return to
her family. Tarkan stood up, saying, "I will return soon." The pellar
nodded with a knowing smile, "Oh... I know. Don't worry about that."
Tarkan chuckled All the same at the pellar's eccentric demeanor, and
continued up the gangplank.

The docking bell chimed, and the gangplank was raised. As Tarkan turned to
give a final look at Shokono before heading down below deck, he noticed that
where Tomoko's family once stood, Kenji was glaring across the water with a
manic grin and equally daft eyes.

Writer: Fintin
Date Sun Jun 24 19:09:29 2018

To All Imm Religion Cliath

Subject First Sparks

"I suppose this'll do," Fintin mumbled to himself as he hefted a large,
flat rock on to a waist-high pine stump.

Directly next to the stump, the fire he'd lit earlier seemed to be doing
well, now reduced to a bed of glowing coals. Lighting the fire had been a
task unto itself, since the tiny kender undertook it with a self-promise to
not use magic in this project. He'd spent the whole morning search the
rocky Althanian shore for a piece of flint, and a fair bit of the afternoon
striking it against his steel dagger, trying to light a small bundle of

But now, with the sun well into its descent, All the pieces seemed to be
falling into place. Gingerly, he placed the end of a long piece of steel
into the coals and began fanning the coals with a bundle of leaves, causing
the coals to glow hotter, the intense heat radiating onto his face.

He wiped a stinging drop of sweat from his eye.

Minutes later, his arm growing tired from fanning the coals, he pulled the
steel from the coals, its tip now glowing bright yellow. He placed the end
of the steel onto the flat rock, unholstered a hammer the size of his arm,
and with great effort brought the hammer down onto the glowing steel.
Reverberations vibrated through his arm and a shower of sparks erupted,
causing the kender to recoil reflexively, yet still, the sight, the smell,
the feel of the whole thing filled his mind with awe.

Looking down to inspect the results of the hammer blow, it was clear that
not much had happened to the steel.

And so he continued, blow after blow, until his arm felt dead, lifeless, and
overwhelmingly sore. Again, he inspected his work.

This time, however, the steel's transformation was clear as day. It was
slightly flatter than before.

"Ah ha!" Fintin bellowed, raising a triumphant fist into the air.

He plunged the steel into a bucket, the water within it flashing to a thick
plume of steam. He took some time to admire his work, and as stars began to
appear in the twilight sky, he spoke to the steel as if to a treasured

"Tomorrow, we continue."

Writer: Tarkan
Date Mon Jun 25 09:08:46 2018

To All Shokono Arkane Kingdom RP

Subject Letters on Wistful Wings VIII

"HELP! "

Tarkan rushed up the hill towards the pellar's hut. As much as he tried to
respond with a call-out in kind, his voice was lost. "Strange," he thought
to himself as he rushed, "I don't remember there being this many steps..."
Tarkan glanced down at his feet, then back up at the hut. He was at the
bottom of the hill again.

"HELP! "

Tarkan's feet felt like lead weights as he trudged up the hill. It suddenly
came to his awareness that someone was behind him. Turning around, he saw
the pellar slowly emaciate into a standing, dessicated corpse. "The
bones...!" The pellar's corpse said, eventually disintegrating into a
skeleton and falling to the ground in a pile. As the bones rolled and
tumbled about, they fell into a pattern of the symbol of Fatale. As the
pellar's skull hit the ground, it shattered into dozens of bone splinters.

"HELP! "

Tarkan looked up at the hut again. Once more, he was at the bottom of the
hill. The weight of his feet was finally gone, but he opted instead to drop
to All fours and scamper up the hill like a feral beast instead of risking
the possibility of tripping over his own feet. Finally reaching the top, he
reached for the door. As it opened, he saw Kenji wielding a knife, raised
and ready to strike. As Kenji's dagger plunged down and connected in impact
to Tarkan, just the tip to the fur on his chest, Tarkan awoke in a cold

The Yinn's heart was racing, and he felt his blood pressure throbbing
throughout his head. The healer in the cot room raised a faintly glowing
hand in assurance to Tarkan, chanting, "Judicandus Dies. " At once, the
throbbing in Tarkan's head subsided, but he was still anxious. "Thank you,"
the Yinn told the healer, "But I must hurr- no... A dream." Tarkan shook
his head. Though a dream it was, it was strangely in vivid detail. Nursing
the temples of his head, Tarkan headed out to the garden.


Although a welcome sound, it still felt like falling head-first to granite
as the messenger hawk screeched. Tarkan forgot his falconry glove in the
cot room, but he was too anxious to bother. He extended his arm, and winced
as the tips of the hawk's talons dug lightly into his forearm. Quickly he
took the small note from the leg compartment of the hawk, clamped onto the
note with his lips, and freed his hand so he could pull a silver piece from
his belt pouch to put into the hawk's beak. The hawk snatched up the
silver, spread its wings, and bolted towards the skies.

In haste, Tarkan unfurled the letter...

Writer: Tarkan

Date Mon Jun 25 09:32:00 2018

To All Shokono Arkane Kingdom RP

Subject Letters on Wistful Wings IX

"Dearest Tarkan,

It's been only a week, and I already miss you. Every time I go into the
orchard, I am reminded of how you are able to reach the higher branches and
use your strength to help the farm immensely. When I'm reminded of your
strength, I'm also reminded of your warmth. When I'm reminded of your
warmth, I'm reminded of our night together when we snuck out into the

The days are long. I still sing often when I am out amongst the trees, but
I no longer sing out of anxiousness. Actually, that would be wrong... I am
worried about some things. Perhaps you can give me some insight?

My father has fallen into something of a somber malaise. He's grown quiet.
He no longer divines from the bones anymore. I asked him about it, and each
time, he says that there is no need to worry. This isn't like him.

Stranger still is Kenji! He's stopped bothering me about marriage, but on
the other hand, he's been getting into fights a lot. I went to his home to
deliver a basket of cherries, and when I went around, I saw an effigy
adorned with black fur and covered in shuriken. I don't think he likes you
very much. But, I am glad that he has stopped asking me about..."

The letter continued on, with Tomoko asking more questions about Arkania.
"Kenji is still being a man-child, the pellar is still eccentric, and Tomoko
is still singing in the orchard..." Tarkan thought, "... All is right with
the world." The Yinn took a deep breath, and slowly blew out a sigh. The
adrenaline from the dream he had just earlier was subsiding, and the sting
of the hawk's talon grazes started to tingle at his nerves. "Nothing the
healer can't deal with," he said casually. A calm smile spread across his
face. As he made his way into the cot room, he called out to the healer.
"Healer... Maybe you can teach me that trick you did earlier?" The Yinn
mused, "Or, at the very least, try not to browbeat me too much about
forgetting my falconry glove..."

Writer: Arreana
Date Tue Jun 26 11:16:31 2018

To All Imm Religion Taliena

Subject What Makes Angels Cry?

She was falling. Arreana tried as hard as she could to beat her wings, but they
were broken and she was falling.

Arreana knew the impact would be violent. Likely fatal. The wind dried any tears
that might come. In spite of everything, All she could think of were her mother
and father. She pictured them crying over a grave, her grave. She was going to
die and they would pay the price. No parent should ever have to lose their
child, yet so many did.

Then there was a tug on her shirt, and, before it could slip off, another tug
around her waist. Arreana looked up to see her father, holding her as he took
off into the air, before landing on a safer patch of meadow just a little bit

His expression was grim, far more serious than his usual serious face. Fear
seized Arreana for a moment. How much trouble would she be in? Her curiosity
almost killed her, almost left her parents without a child. Arreana's eyes
slammed shut.

"My little wing." The deep voice of her father was comforting, even with the
chilly calm that touched it, "what were you thinking?"

Arreana didn't have an answer to that.

As the silence stretched out, Arreana knew she would have to answer. But, when
she looked up again, there was a bright, white light that obscured All else.

{p"My child. I chose you for a reason. Do not fear."

Arreana blinked. She was no longer a small child, but a woman grown once more.

"W-what do you mean? Ch-chose me?"

{p"Can you think of my previous Cardinal?"

That took a long moment's thought. Arreana had done her best to study the
leaders of the past through old records, but this was an answer she didn't have.
Her gaze refocused on the overwhelming light.

"I- don't..."

{p"Hush, my child. Rest. Your strength... you will need it."


When Arreana woke up, it took her a few moments to realize she had been
dreaming. It had felt so real, so tangible, for a moment she almost believed she
had gone back in time, that the horrible reality she'd lived in was the dream.

The words from Taliena at the end... had those been real? It wouldn't have been
the first time that a god or goddesses had used dreams to convey messages. But
those were usually figurative, with the dream's contents and subject being the
message itself. In this dream, Arreana felt as though Taliena were speaking
directly to her.

But that was unlikely. In her heart, Arreana knew that Taliena was far too busy
to be bothered with her. This was Arreana's moment to show leadership, to be the
grace that people would need.

Arreana's back was sore, she had curled up on a patch of moss in the Temple, and
her old bones weren't as resilient as they once were. She missed the comfort of
her bed, but sacrifices were made All the time in the pursuit of righteousness.
For awhile, she just lay there, not wanting to get up.

Taliena's life would be in danger. That much was almost certain. Even if they
made it through unscathed, if Nadrik were to fall... no, she couldn't think
about it. Parents weren't supposed to lose their children, and Taliena had
already lost Kadiya. It would be unseemly for a parent to have a favorite child,
or, at least, to admit to one. But in her heart, Arreana felt deeply that Kadiya
had been Taliena's favorite. Love and piece were each parts of a braid, woven
together to make the rope that held the Light together.

Arreana was certain that it was her daughter's passing, among other things, that
was behind the inexplicable absence that had formed over the last several years.
It was not for a mere mortal like Arreana to judge, but that didn't mean she
couldn't notice, observe.

As she lay there, she couldn't help but wonder: what would make the Angels cry?
Her own tears had fled her, leaving her empty.

Writer: Gabriela

Date Wed Jun 27 08:25:37 2018

Writer: Tarkan
Date Wed Jun 27 13:06:21 2018

To All Shokono Arkane Kingdom RP

Subject Letters on Wistful Wings X


As the hawk ascended into the sky with a silver piece in its mouth, Tarkan
opened the letter.

Dear Tarkan...

As he read the letter, his brow furrowed from under his hood.

... Better if we never speak to each other again...

Everything seemed wrong. The letters delivered between he and Tomoko were
always warm, kind, and affectionate... Even vaguely risque at times. As
Tarkan continued to read, he felt his heart clenching in his chest, sinking.

... Do not try to come to Shokono...

Why the sudden change in direction? Had she changed her mind about Kenji?
Did she find someone else altogether? Was it pressure from the community?
Perhaps the pellar retracted his blessing?

... Father's bones tell of woe...

Tarkan clutched at the letter, and looked at it one more time. He tried to
calm his anxiety, inhaling with a slow breath, and made an attempt to still
his thoughts. In his mind, he made a silent prayer.

Mighty Raije... Please grant me the insight into this adversity that I may
overcome. A battle rages within me, and I cannot see friend from foe.

A breeze blew through the courtyard of the Haven. With it carried the scent
of charcoal and smelting from the workshop nearby. The Yinn's thoughts
shifted to the hard work that goes into the forging of the steel, how it
becomes shaped and manipulated by fire and effort. As Tarkan visualized
vividly in his prayer meditation, a split-second flash touched his mind,
light as a feather and quick as lightning: A minotaur covered in warpaint
holding up a blade to his face, staring down the craftsmanship of the forged
blade critically.

Inspection... Inspection... Inspection...

As a stroke of ingenuity hit him, and his ears shot straight up. Patting
himself down furiously, he flicked open the flap on one of his belt pouches,
and pulled out a small scroll. He pinched the edge, extended his hand out,
and flicked his wrist to unfurl it. In his other hand, he held the note
from Tomoko.

"... Uoculoihuyl! "

The symbols and letters on the scroll flashed brightly, and as the flash
faded, the scroll seemed to disintegrate into a fine cloud of dust that
maelstromed about the hand that held the letter. The dust continued to
swirl serpentine up the Yinn's arm, past his shoulder and whisked across his
nose. As he stared at the letter, lightly breathing in the dust from the
activated scroll, a vision appeared to him.

In broken flashes in his mind's eye, he saw a hand clad in dark garb writing
the note. The vision panned up the darkly-clad arm to a face.

It was Kenji.


Time and space itself seemed to tear open as Tarkan stepped through a portal
and planted his toes on the edge of the Althainian dock. The Golden Koi was
docked, but the bell was ringing. Tarkan whistled for the cabin boy aboard
so that they could delay the lifting of the plank for just a few short
moments so he could rush upward. He growled angrily, crumpling the note in
his hand. Right after reaching the deck, the plank was raised, as were the

Writer: Arreana

Date Wed Jun 27 13:33:34 2018

To All Imm Taliena Religion

Subject The Quiet Voice

Sometimes it felt as if Arreana was yelling out into the great void. The
nothingness that some believed was the ultimate home after death. She didn't
believe in it, but the unresponsive, looming concept of it was a perfect way
to frame her circumstances at times. Sometimes it felt like she was speaking
to nothing.

It wasn't a thought she entertained often. She was, after all, a priestess, she
had spoken to Taliena or one of her messengers at least a half a dozen times,
which was half a dozen times more often than most of Her followers.

But it didn't change how she felt.

Arreana was only mortal, after all. Her feelings, selfish, greedy, or otherwise,
were as much a part of her as her faith. Righteousness wasn't living one's life
free from sin, it was about trying to live a life as free from sin as one could
consider reasonable.

Sometimes Arreana wanted to scream, because it felt like she wasn't heard at
all, not just by Taliena, but by the world at large. How many empty sermons had
she preached to? Or events that she had run, with only lackluster participation
from the one or two others bored enough to give it a chance. If they had even
the remotest enthusiasm, things would be different. But the plague of inaction
didn't seem to stop at the door. It didn't go away just because someone showed
up to an event.

The Quiet Voice of Arreana's heart was well-known to her. It was the voice that
kept her sane, the voice that always listened and responded to her. But the
Quiet Voice was becoming its name: quiet. It would have been more accurate to
call it the Whispered Voice or the Small Voice, but they didn't have quite the
same ring to them. They didn't describe a voice so soft that she had to listen
for it if she wanted to hear it.

However, if she tried to listen for it now, there was only silence.

Without the Quiet Voice, Arreana felt an emptiness unlike anything she'd ever
felt since leaving her home. It was uncomfortable, and painful as well. Not
quite the pains of starvation, but certainly of hunger.


Arreana resolved to never sail on a ship again if she could help it. She could
have flown across the ocean, but she had no understanding of how to get anywhere
outside of her home. Sure, she'd seen maps, but traveling within the world was a
lot different than a map. For now, at least, the ship provided her with an
opportunity to recollect, to breathe, and, ultimately, to decide.

What was her next step?

The emptiness that clenched at Arreana's gut was relentless. Her indecision
filled her with doubt and fear. She'd always had someone from whom to seek
advice. If not her parents, then other older adults in the village. If not
the adults, then the Elders, surely. Who would guide her now?

That was the answer that escaped her. Arreana ought to have felt confident in
finding her own way out in the world, but it wasn't what she had been preparing

Arreana's dream had been to be the village healer. To find a husband, bear
children, and eventually become a tribal Elder. But those dreams were gone,
burned to the ash like the rest of her home, the rest of her past.

There was no looking back. If she looked back, she would only break down again,
and she wasn't so certain she would want to come out of it. Arreana had never
understood the true meaning of heartbreak, but now she knew. It was when your
heart was so poisoned that you couldn't experience joy. When that happened, most
would come out of it eventually. However, for those few who could not, they
would end up wasting away, or simply offing themselves.

It was as Arreana considered these mysteries that a Quiet Voice whispered inside
of her: Find your path in Taliena.

That was All that was said, and yet Arreana felt the emptiness dissipate. The
path before her was as visible as a stone walkway.

Writer: Rasavadi

Date Wed Jun 27 15:10:38 2018

Writer: Thaydius

Date Wed Jun 27 17:28:16 2018

To All ( Imm Religion Siccara )

Subject Snowblind

One week. That was All the time they thought this lanky, oversized human
with frostbite would manage in a world full of weathered adventurers and
mythical forces of evil. Every instant of his life was surrounded by the
mounting pressure of his tutelage under the Elder Giants. In the shadows,
he knew his hunters were lurking and they were a constant poison in his
heart and his mind. Time after time, he was threatened and chased and
taunted. Through ages, over generations, he met resistance in the form of
men and women, dragons and demons, plagues and lies. After watching a
myriad of foes pass into the void, after watching countless Giants rise and
fall in the interim, after getting to know beloved Metallic Dragons and
hearing of their final rest, after All of this he stood before the
possibility of outliving his own family. What some might consider luck
pumped through his heart slowly and painfully as it registered as a tragedy
to his physiology.

He hadn't seen his Mother since their short time together in New Thalos but
it was something he constantly wished to relive. Regularly, he considered
that he might never get to experience a reunion as a result of himself being
taken by fate but not in his wildest dreams had the opposite seemed
possible. The very thought of it was unfair on a scope that surpassed the
usual law and order or lack thereof that was present in the fleeting world
of mortals. He begged his family, on his knees in the endless snowdrifts,
to let him return to the White Moon and prepare for the battle with the
Black Moon. It didn't seem right for him to be excluded from the outcome of
this conflict, it was the backdrop of his entire life.

Ages of memories, visited to him through years of focus and meditation, had
given him insight into the Aunt and Uncle he had never met. They could not
recover his lost Aunt, but he spent much of his life devoted to the process
of finding some way to help save Nadrik. It was one of a myriad of goals
that had come to him and passed through his fingertips. It was one failure
in a trench of started projects and salvations that never came to pass.

Silence. He had experienced silence from the White Moon for years at this
point, hearing last from their pure words directed to him in a short but
inspiring moment. He always dismissed it as the hectic and encompassing
lives of gods and goddesses watching over and caring for the weak and
vulnerable of Algoron. Surely, he did not need to be coddled as a child,
even if a child still existed within him, one that was denied the positive
and nurturing relationship that he supplanted with a desire to make the
world a better place. Maybe he did not need their affirmations at that
point, but did they not need him now? Could he be of no use to them?

Even if he were only a speck of light amidst the bright and shining ocean of
their beating hearts, he thought he had something to offer. Though Thaydius
wasn't privvy to anger or fear or anything drawn from darkness and evil, he
was constantly asking himself questions. Why am I here? What purpose will
I ultimately serve? Do you hear me, Mother?

Do you?

Please, let me help you. Please ...

Writer: Erebaal
Date Wed Jun 27 21:40:45 2018

To All ( Althainia Knighthood Immortal Chaos Malachive Scorn )

Subject Honeyed Words I

The man moved through the streets of Althainia unimpeded, for once.
Outside of the shell of the Everchosen's armor, he was nigh-unrecognizable
to the world at large. It felt wrong, somehow, to travel without the heavy
plate, or any real armor at all, but the opportunity to witness the fervor
of the vaunted City of Light deemed the risk acceptable. A grey cowl rested
over his pallid features, hiding All but the mane of greyed hair that
spilled forth past his shoulders, and he never strayed far from the alleys,
skulking along with the cutpurses and undesirables oft-unmentioned in the
festering heart of the Althainian capitol.

The stench of desperation was on the air. Like a shroud, it pervaded the
city, from the urgency of the guardsmen keeping order to the frantic letters
being ferried about by couriers. Plans were being laid, alliances struck,
ancient feuds put aside in the name of some terrible fear that the world's
order would not recover in the face of coming calamity. The bloodless lips
of the Everchosen peeled back in a death's-head grin as another courier
jogged past, within arm's reach. It would be so easy to reach out and break
his neck, slam him into the stone building that cast the shadow in which he
dwelt in the city's underbelly. To rifle through his belongings and glean
what intelligence he bore would be a boon to his mission, but would threaten
his position when he was, ironically, at his most vulnerable.

The forces of Good were a wounded animal, driven to frenzy and desperation
out of their pain and panic. Like All wounded beasts, it had reached its
most fierce, preparing to forsake instinct and dignity in the face of

It was to that end that he made his way to this place.

The letter he had written sat below his ragged cloak, kept safe from the
grey skies that threatened rain. The words within were an overture, an
unheard-of offer ot aid, of assistance to the creatures he despised more
than any other. The weight of those words rankled with him, and the urge to
rip the note to shreds battled with the grim necessity of the need to reach
his objective unimpeded.

While the destruction of the Pantheon was paramount, the order in which it
was done was critical. To lose the greatest fighter of the Light would
bring the war to an end too swiftly. Resistance would crumble, and Darkness
would consolidate its position, growing too powerful for his
slowly-cultivated forces to overthrow. It would stymie his life's work,
bring ruin of a nature he could not abide. Slavery unending, and an age of
Darkness that suffocated All life. For now, the mission, distasteful though
it was, was one of preservation, to keep the enemy limping forward long
enough until their use was expended.

The next courier to pass by was met with a hand upon his shoulder, the
strength behind the gesture enough to halt him dead in his tracks. Stepping
out of the alley, the Everchosen loomed over the boy, who cast his gaze
about fearfully. Raising his hand, the Everchosen drew the folded letter
from his cloak and pushed it into the courier's face, 'To All the souls of
Althainia, and the exalted men of Gareth as well. It is of importance.
' A
blue diamond followed, more riches than the young man had encountered in his
life, and he nodded his head, already spending the money in his head despite
the terrifying specter that had accosted him. He ran off double-time when
the Everchosen withdrew his grasp and slunk back into the alley.

The necessity of this subterfuge, too, grated against his sensibilities, and
no amount of fear in the city would soothe the anger of having to play the
role of sneak-thief to see his will done. No matter the outcome here, the
seeds had been planted. Either the offer would be accepted or it would not
be. The purpose of the letter was deeper than such superficial decisions.

Writer: Erebaal

Date Wed Jun 27 21:48:50 2018

To All ( Althainia Knighthood Immortal Chaos Malachive Scorn )

Subject Honeyed Words II

Those who stood to lose everything in the coming day, with the reminder
of the Warp's presence on their mind, whose grief could be harnessed,
chained to his will, and led forward into an Age of Chaos. These were his
true prize, a crop of lost souls, clinging to whatever vain hope could carry
them forward.

For now, the deed was done, and the rest of the matters left to the
bickering theocrats and fools that comprised the world's upper hierarchy.
They would squabble and fight with one another, gaining no ground, and
solidifying the doom of Nadrik. While inopportune, his actions could be
used to salvage this defeat into a greater victory, a bulwark against the
storm that brewed just over the horizon.

In time, his shield would be burned away, tempered into a blade, ready to
plunge into the hearts of the Gods, unleashing a new calamity. One of his
own making. One which nobody, not even himself, would survive.

Writer: Tarkan
Date Thu Jun 28 08:09:58 2018

To All Shokono Arkane ( RP Imm Raije Religion )

Subject Letters on Wistful Wings - Final Chapter, Part 1

The door to the pellar's hut was ajar. The smell of fresh blood flooded
Tarkan's nostrils as his Yinn sense of smell picked up more of what lay
behind the door. Reaching for a crude utility knife in his belt, he drew
what he had in order to possibly defend himself. Mustering up the courage,
the Yinn kicked down the door and lunged in.

"HRAH! "

Blood. Silence. More blood. Looking down, Tarkan saw the pellar's wife
face down, blood surrounding her head on the ground. He knelt down to turn
her over, to find that her throat had been slashed. Inspecting the wound,
he noted it was a clean cut. This was no savage beast or a mad-toothed Yinn
for that matter... Flies haven't even gotten to the corpse yet, so Tarkan
kept his knife out, suspecting the killer may still yet be close.

Plodding about the hut, Tarkan came to the resting area, where a body was
still sleeping. He reached for the blanket, knife out, ready to strike if
it was a trick. With a single fell motion, he gripped the sheet, and jolted
backwards, taking it with him, only to reveal the pellar, motionless. The
Yinn plodded over, knelt down, and turned him over as well, revealing that
he had been stabbed in the heart.

"Dead... " he muttered, shaking his head. His eyes suddenly shot open.
"... Tomoko!" Rushing away from the pellar's body, Tarkan burst out the
back door, in total disregard of his earlier cautiousness. He stopped to
sniff the air. He had to find her. He lumbered through the orchard,
sniffing wildly, picking up on her scent. The trail of the scent brought
him to a tree, but he did not see her. He looked up, and there was no body.
Creeping around the trunk of the tree, he spotted two legs splayed on the
ground. "No... " He rushed over to Tomoko, only to find her against a
tree, motionless. He spotted ligature marks on her neck. "Strangled to
death. A kill of passion..."

Tarkan knelt down beside Tomoko's corpse, and nuzzled into the neck,
whimpering. His whimpers became whines, and unable to contain himself, he
threw his head back and let loose a mournful howl of defeat. The pellar's
divination came true. He had won the battle for Tomoko's heart... But lost
the war to bid for her destiny together with him. The Yinn continued to
howl loudly as he realized in full effect what All was taken. The winner
took all. But, where was the winner?

Tarkan's howls suddenly became one of sharp pain as he felt a shuriken
penetrate his flesh, digging into the bone of his shoulder blade...

Writer: Arreana

Date Thu Jun 28 12:04:34 2018

To All Imm Religion Taliena

Subject Who Are You?

Arreana was no stranger to conflict.

That much was obvious to anyone who knew her, or even simply knew OF her. She
didn't delude herself with the thought that everyone knew who she was, but if
they knew of her, then they knew she was an Ariel. Her homeland had been
decimated by Malachive, and she had been among the first Ariel to surface
publicly in the wake of that tragedy.

They might also be aware that she had spent years in the Wrath of Justice,
fighting Evil day in and day out. It was not for nothing that she styled herself
as Taliena's Warrioress. She'd spent two terms as Lady of Survival, and while
she would never be remembered as a fierce hunter, she had helped mend wounds,
and bring the words of Taliena to the halls of Justice.

Now she was Taliena's Cardinal, an auspicious distinction that few, if any, had
ever achieved.

If Arreana dwelled on it, she often wondered if someone else had lived her life
for her. It was, All of it, impressive on paper. But she still felt like the
simple Ariel looking forward to a quiet and simple life among her people. Sure,
she was older now. Worn down by years of fighting, years of learning, preaching,
and teaching.

But she needed to be able to believe in herself. Now, more than ever. Evil had
secured their fourth shard. They had only ever needed four to stop Goodness from
rescuing Nadrik from the Black Moon. Goodness had needed eight shards, more than
twice the number. But they ended up with a dismal four.

Evil's task wasn't finished yet, though. For that matter, neither was Goodness
entirely defeated as of yet. The holy family was preparing to do what they had
hoped to avoid: bring conflict to the Black Moon in an attempt to save Nadrik.

From a mortal's perspective, it was pure madness. Not only was it likely that
Nadrik would be killed, by attacking the Black Moon, the holy family made
themselves vulnerable. It was entirely possible that more than one god or
goddess of Evil would die in the attempt.

To what purpose the gods would put their mortal followers remained unclear,
though it would almost certainly involve a battle.

Evil wanted to ensure that Goodness remained weak. They had victory in their
grasp, but a united Light could wrest it away from them and leave them empty

Telthian's attempt was surprising, but obvious. She knew who he was, All of
Algoron knew who he was, and he knew it too. He tried to use his fame to sow
doubt, to paint the peaceful meeting between Arreana, Mercerion, and the
Chaos follower Scribpog, as something more sinister.

Arreana couldn't say whether or not Scribpog left feeling satisfied. But she
doubted it. He came to make an alliance with her and with Mercerion, and left
without one. Instead, they had given him conditions. Conditions under which
the Warp would not be stymied so long as they didn't interfere with the rescue.

It wasn't a pleasant thing for any of the three that had met and discussed. It
was the Warp who had taken her home from her. Peaceful as she tried to be,
Arreana would have liked nothing better than to save Nadrik and wipe out the
remaining members of Chaos in one fell swoop. Two birds with one stone.

But that was not the priority.

Their mission was clear: save Nadrik. So long as the Warp didn't try to stop
them, then the Light had no reason to stop the Warp. But they wouldn't help
them, they wouldn't assist Chaos in their goals. That was a step too far to
take, one that she could never take.

Nonetheless, she held yet another missive in her hand. This one from someone
named Rasavadi d'Aerthe. All she knew of him was his affiliation with the Black
Robes of the Conclave. But that was All she needed to know. He attempted to
piggyback off of Telthian's efforts. It was pathetic, really. Yet it was with
a grim look that she set quill to paper to fight yet another battle.

Writer: Tarkan
Date Thu Jun 28 12:21:04 2018

To All Shokono Arkane ( RP Imm Raije Religion )

Subject Letters on Wistful Wings - Final Chapter, Part 2

"I've waited a long time for this, Oukamijin!" Kenji said, leaping down
from a branch on a cherry tree with a flip. As he rose up, he said through
bared teeth, "If I can't have her, no one can! And now I will finish you

Tarkan snarled and growled, reaching over his shoulder to yank out the
shuriken from his back. He sniffed the shuriken. Luckily, there was no
poison. From that, Tarkan realized that the shuriken wasn't to kill him,
but to get his attention. "Why didn't you poison your weapon, fool?"
Growled Tarkan.

"Because I wanted to see the look of twisted grief upon your face when I've
taken everything from you, just as you've taken everything from me!" Kenji
retorted, dropping into a stance and drawing a blackened steel tanto.
Tarkan countered, "Your refusal to let go took everything from you! You
have no one to blame but yourself, you petulant imbicile!" The Yinn
likewise dropped into a stance congruent with military-style pugilist
combat, flipping his work knife into a reverse grip as he raised his hands
and bent his knees, facing off with Kenji.

The two stared off at each other for a while, simply being frozen in each
other's glare. No words were exchanged... Just a burning hatred for one
another. One, a craven murderer, and the other, a soldier mad with grief.

Tarkan flicked his wrist, throwing the shuriken at Kenji. Kenji immediately
swung his tanto and parried the aerial projectile, knocking it out of the
way. As Kenji's focus returned, time seemed to slow for him as he spotted
the work knife travelling in an upswing towards his neck. The clash of
metal rang through the orchard as Kenji blocked, but the might and speed of
the Yinn's blow was enough to bring Kenji off balance. With his free hand,
Tarkan curled his arm and swung his elbow across to Kenji's temple,
following by bringing up his opposing knee to Kenji's stomach. Fractions of
a second before the blow, Tarkan jerked his torso in a pivot and pulled his
knee even higher into the connection, the torque of the impact sending Kenji
hurtling backwards. Kenji broke his fall by rolling on his back, then
kipping up quickly to his feet and dropping to a stance again. "Impressive,
Oukamijin. But you're still no match for me! UIZUGUBURUHL! "

Kenji seemed to fade out of existence. Tarkan could still rely on his sense
of smell, but that was just an indicator to where Kenji *was*, not what he
was *doing*. With his Yinn ears, Tarkan picked up the sounds of footsteps
in the grass, and continued to face off with Kenji's direction. "Very
impressive, Oukamijin! But it's still not enough!" Kenji said. With that,
a barrage of shuriken seemed to materialize from thin air, with a full dozen
burying into the Yinn's flesh. It was more than Tarkan could bear, as he
was losing blood quickly. Buckling over and fumbling about to pull out the
stars, he felt his consciousness slowly slipping away.

"You will never find me, Oukamijin. I will find YOU. And when we next
meet, I will be even more powerful. Then, I will make sure not even your
God will revive you!"

Tarkan snarled and groaned, "... Defeating a Yinn... Only makes him...
Stronger..." before collapsing completely and losing consciousness.

Writer: Tarkan

Date Thu Jun 28 15:05:33 2018

To All Shokono Arkane ( RP Imm Raije Fatale Religion )

Subject Letters on Wistful Wings - Grand Finale

When Tarkan awoke, he found himself napping by a bonfire. As he sat up
to behold his surroundings, there were countless tents and fires All around
him. By every tent, there was a black horsehair banner hung on the outside.
Standing up from the bedroll he found himself on, he began to explore...

Various warriors were seated on log benches surrounding fires, drinking and
laughing. Shamanic mystics, with arms outstretched, sung deeply with their
throats rumbling towards the wind, which fluttered their robes towards the
setting sun set against a crimson sky with violet clouds that stretched over
infinitely sweeping steppes. The smell of cooking meat filled the air.
Finding a large path, Tarkan followed the trail to a large tent, by far the
largest in this seeming endless encampment. Outside was the only red
horsehair banner. Making his way inside, his feet set down on rich,
luxurious Thalosian rugs that rest on the dirt. He made his way to the
center of the tent, his path lit by balls of light. As his eyes settled to
his surroundings, his view fixed on the owner of the tent: an immense
minotaur, covered in warpaint and adorned with rich furs, with his hand
resting on the pommel of a battleaxe the size of Tarkan himself.

So that's it, then?

"W-what...?" Tarkan asked. The minotaur's lips did not move. It just came
to Tarkan's awareness automatically.

You accept defeat? Just like that?

Tarkan furrowed his brow. "I won the battle of the heart, but I lost the
war of destiny. The pellar's bones have fortold, and so it was." The
minotaur's only response was a snort.

The pellar said a lot of things. He fortold of your conflict. But nothing
about YOU.

Tarkan let his head hang in shame. The apparent warlord was right. The
pellar fortold of losing the conflict, but nothing about whether or not
Tarkan would return from it. Tarkan simply accepted his fate as was in a
package deal, blindly lending faith in the pellar.

What do you want?

"I..." Tarkan started, "I... Want to set things right."

There is no going back. There is only forward. Do you really have the
fortitude to go forward? After accepting defeat like this?

Tarkan objected, "I've accepted nothing yet! Even with my dying breath, I
cursed Kenji! I will not rest until I've avenged Tomoko and her family."

Then you've chosen your battle. The pellar's bones spoke of death earlier.
Who's death... Does not matter. Death will happen. Fatale will exact his
levy. It matters not. But if you want to levy your own, then move

Gripping the handle of his axe, the minotaur warlord raised it high, and
dropped his jaw. What came was not a battlecry, but a storming
thundercrash. The ground shook, and as if in acknowledgment, the countless
warriors around the tent let loose battlecries of their own.


"Judicandus Dies... " the temple healer chanted before saying,
"Kurijomo-san! He's coming around!" A hulking samurai warrior looked down
at the recovering Yinn. "You will be fine, Oukamijin. Soon, I will need a
written statement of what transpired here," Kurijomo said.

Writer: Cassian

Date Thu Jun 28 18:15:58 2018

Writer: Geirhart

Date Thu Jun 28 20:35:43 2018

To All Kingdom Clan

Subject The Responsibility of Mortals (Vampire Chronicles)

For the last week Geirhart had been cleaning and forging. The Vampire
continued to leave gifts but now he was harassing other citizens and those
in Shalonesti. It seems the demon had tired of the priest.

Now the priest was concerned about the world itself. Could the Light
survive the death of Nadrik? When Kadiya died, her priests dissolved. So
too did Turpa's. The faith of mortals seems weak. They invest so much in
their Gods that the loss crushes them and they can't recover.

The thing they forget is that they become the heirs of Peace, Weather, or
perhaps Honor. Entrusted with the tenets of their faith. Their Goddess'
wisdom or God's continues with them. They are only truly gone when those
who believed no longer hold to those ideologies and that seems easily done
on Algoron.

The newly installed Deacon worried not about success but about the
responsibility and power that mortals had to shape their own lives and if
they realized it continues with or without a god. We should be who we are
because it is right for us not an immortal.

The old man also worried about the Cardinal. She had been constantly
attacked and cracks were forming in her normal demeanor. Stress can change
people and the stress of this mission could force some to do things they may
not live with later on. He hoped this would not be true.

There is only one certainty, tomorrow is a new day. Perhaps Bungers will
have cleaned because he could use a rest.

Writer: Sierus

Date Fri Jun 29 07:26:28 2018

Writer: Sierus

Date Fri Jun 29 07:26:40 2018

Writer: Carrionmaw

Date Fri Jun 29 10:01:34 2018

To All Immortal Necrucifer

Subject Black Moon Rising


The command came like the tip of a lance. The Ancient Reds articulated
scales offered no protection as it the words pierced deep into his mind.
For a moment his wings faltered, and he listed on the wind as the migraine
burrowed deep, consuming him completely before he regained his strength.

He felt the Shadowknight perched between the heavy plates along his neck
stiffen as the mailed hand fought for purchase. Instruction was delivered
to him as well.

Dragonbreath ripped through the skies as the Chromatic and Metallic tore the
heavens open in battle. So great were they in number that their wings
blotted out the light cast by the white moon above as legions of mortals
battled beneath them.

The chalky red terrain greedily lapped up their blood. Raijes axe dripped
with the blood of a twisted giant. There was no doubt he was pleased having
forced this confrontation.

There was no hesitation when it came. They broke from the battle with the
Colossi by gaining altitude. It was then that the wyrm folded back his
wings, plummeting into a dive toward a trio of radiant figures.

The Metallics and their riders were caught unaware by the sudden retreat.
The realization dawned upon them but it was far too late.

The radiance of the Father of Goodness made even looking upon him difficult.
He was statuesque, a towering figure whose mere presence pushed back the
gloom and calamity around him. The unmitigated fury of their Dark Master
raged through his veins, and they struck in unison at one another.

Perhaps he was weary from the days-long battle with Necrucifer.

Perhaps imprisonment by Raije had weakened him.

Perhaps Austinians attention was still focused upon the Godson and his
minions of Chaos and the Chromatics had caught him by surprise.

Whatever the reason was, Carrionmaw did not care. Tooth and claw found
godly flesh and Kayens blade met its mark. Austinian bled.


It was his ritual to cleanse himself within the hellpits as the steady
procession of liquid stone scoured his scales. So few battles in this Age
were worth his remembrance.

But the Red Moon was one, sundered to its very core from the violence and
carnage that burnt itself into his mind. Austinian himself was bloodied and

A cruel black claw extended to summon an imp, the Red began to dictate.

Many years ago, the wyrms Master woke Carrionmaw from the mountain tomb,
returning him so that he might live and to die for one purpose.

And soon, he would have a another chance.

Writer: Fintin

Date Fri Jun 29 14:56:10 2018

To All Imm Religion Cliath

Subject First Sparks (Part 2)

The days went on.

It wasn't long before Fintin's arm was no longer sore after a few hours of
hammering steel. He grew used to the heat. The sweat dripping off his face
and stinging his eyes. He got better at making fires and keeping them hot.

A small pile of steel had built up next to his makeshift anvil. Various
pieces of steel in various shapes. Some were flat, some were round. Many
were lumpy and misshapen, with uneven edges, bending in odd directions.

As the sun set, several weeks after his first attempt at forging, Fintin
plunged a piece of steel into a bucket of water beside him. It was the
product of immeasurable sweat and toil.

He held it in his hand and inspected it. Sure, it wasn't perfect, but it
was the best he could do: a simple butter knife. And to him, it was nothing
short of beautiful.

"I made this," he said.

Writer: Rasavadi
Date Fri Jun 29 21:17:24 2018

Writer: Pomacanthus
Date Sat Jun 30 09:17:47 2018

To Conclave Marauders All (Raije RP Fatale Millueda)
Subject A Matter of Convictions

'We were urged to aid the light! Why did you disobey? '

The magi's head turned towards her companion, jet-black eyes reflecting the
incredulous expression on the other's face. No answer was made; no
explination given. A hand fell to her trusted blade, the iced-over handle
of the shashka bringing with it comfort and memories.

The other mage pressed the issue.

'If you hadn't given away what you did, the dragon's raid would have been
successful! Nadrik would be free again and balance would be restored!'

The sea elf's gaze returned to the rest of the crossroads, tuning out the
excited exclimations and half-made accusations. Her demeanor, as always,
was one of utter, unbending control. There were more important things to
deal with than angry gnomes. The task was before her, the demand the same
as ever.

'Couldn't you just have stayed out of it?! Sebatis wouldn't want this!'

The words were enough to distract her from her vigil. Head turned again,
she considered the small white-robed form beside her for several moments
before answering, her words soft and sad, holding a quiet sort of crispness
to them.

'I am not of Sebatis. This is known.'

It brought a huff to the sausage-fingered companion, and a lengthy tirade to
the ears of the sea elf - one Pomacanthus ignored. She had achieved her
goal. War was coming - and with it, Death.

That was All that mattered.

That was All that ever mattered.

Writer: Kaelowyth

Date Sat Jun 30 10:09:01 2018

To All ( Necrucifer Zandreya ) Religion RolePlay Storyline

Subject The awful grace of god ( Part 1 )

Unbidden, the memories seeped in through the minuscule cracks in the
fortress that was the Elf's mind. Maybe it was recent events - ponderous
and repetitive as they might be - which had caused this, or perhaps it was
simply another part of his curse. Either way, the result was the same:
Visions of the heavens, of himself, of two warring deities intent on
claiming him - these faded yet poignant images were the things that squirmed
along his thoughts from back to forefront.

He was -not- like the others. He was not some 'husk' for an unworthy demon
to consume, nor was he some fleshy mortal with an impressive yet ultimately
finite lifespan. He was a thing so cursed, so deliberately raped and
ravaged as to have almost left nothing save for these memories. These
memories and their anger.

Unlike the others, he did not flock to the shards, to the battles of 'Light
versus Dark' of 'Good versus Evil', why should he? Long after each battle
was a distant footnote in the Balanxes grand vignette, he would still be
here, trapped between the Abyss and this realm. Tied inexorably to the very
foundations of this world, one with the roots that made up the world tree,
the link which started the great chain of fate. Why should he -care-?

Until Necrucifer and Zandreya set foot upon this plane, until one won out
upon the other, until the very sun grew cold, he would be trapped here.
Trapped with eons of lost love, of jealous rage, of unfathomable disdain and
ire to nourish and keep him. Yet -something- that damned firstborne had
said still bothered him. How dare they talk of his role, how dare they try
to drag him back to the mud and nightsoil of these mortal designs. Yet,
couldn't he hasten the end? Couldn't he -try- to bring about that final
grand display before briefly being allowed to admire the stillness of
Eternal Night?

It was possible. Unnecessary, but possible. He could simply continue to
wait. To haunt the realms as the spectres of old do, to watch with jaded
gaze All the souls which would soon pass on - as well as those doomed to
wait alongside him. But it was perhaps those, the ones who were -stuck-
here, which disgusted him the most. It was those... He would give almost
anything to be freed from.

He was no Demon, he was no Elf, he was no Cultist, no Priest, no Catalyst.
But no. He was not like them, either. He would be free.

He -will- be free.

Writer: Maccus
Date Sun Jul 1 11:50:43 2018

To All Bloodlust Fatale RP Imm

Subject In prayer.

He grins as his metal clad feet rattle down the stairs and down into the
dark, gloomy altar room. As he lands in the room he circles around slowly,
looking at each one of the statues, appearing deep in thought. He ponders
for a moment, contemplating the questions he'd ask each one of them before
finally turning his head and body towards the altar in the center of the
room. A hooded figure tightens their cloak and quickly runs up the
spiraling stairs and out of the temple itself. With a small sigh of relief
he knew that he was alone. He made his way to the altar, pulling out both
his blades, clasping them together in one hand as he pulled off his helmet
in the other. Placing All the objects infront of the Altar he kneeled down
and closes his eyes.

He clears his throat, beginning his preperations for the same prayer he had
been giving since the 8th shards collection before something gets caught
within him. Memories flooded forward within his mind. Abandoning Raije,
being shunned, loving, hating and the sense of pride. His eyes welled up
for a brief moment, remembering things he did not wish too until he shook
his head hard. Casting aside All thoughts of doubt he began his prayer.

'Lord of Death and Murder hear my prayer, for I am your humble servant in
these times
' He exhaled slowly, and continued. 'I offer thee my strength,
my song, my blades in the battle to come.
' He shifts on his knees,
tightening the grip he held on his own hands, 'Give me guidance, for I will
do what I must. I will show them All truly, why death truly doesnt
' His lips begin to form a grin as the thoughts of carnage
and death appear in his mind, 'I have been patient for so long...
Guidance... Clarity... And I will do what is utterly needed
' He kneeled
there a few moments longer, letting his words seep and melt into the air
before he collected his belongings. The grin he held on his face seeming to
not leave as he pushed his helmet back ontop of his head, wielding his
blades with deadly percision before finally leaving.

Writer: Mercerion

Date Sun Jul 1 13:18:16 2018

To All Immortal Religion Storyline Nadrik

Subject This is not the way the World will end

The air in the Temple was charged with Holy Energy. It was as if the
temple itself knew what was going to happen within the next few hours.
Mercerion silently secured the various pieces of his armors, building the
suit of full plate, without the aid of a squire. To those whom knew the
veteran General, the sense of sadness would have been apparent. In the
years past, Mercerion may have been able to mask this sadness from others,
but he had no energy, and no time left to worry about that now.

The armors built now, and prepared for battle he lifted his shield. A smile
played on his features for a moment, the battlescars and dents never
managing to completely destroy the fine shield he had made back in his time
as Emperor. Quietly, he whispered his oath to Nadrik as he blessed the

Lord of Honor,

I stand as a bastion against the coming tide. I am the Beacon, I shall
bring the Light into the Darkness With this Shield, I shall stave the coming

Mercerion strapped the shield onto his left arm, and looked down the katana
placed at the altar, infused with holy power and purpose. He reached for
the blade and whispered an oath to the soul of the blade.

Blade with whom I have lived... Blade with whom I now die... Serve
Righeousness one last time. Seek one last heart of Evil, Still one last
life of pain. Cut well, Old Friend, and then farewell.

After strapping the katana to his obi, Mercerion looked up to the statue,
and whispered his final prayer.

I have defied Gods and Demons.
I am Your Shield.
I am Your Sword.
I know the magnitude of this fight.
This is not the way the World will end.

Writer: Zola

Date Sun Jul 1 13:42:26 2018

To All Bloodlust Verminasia Darkonin Shadow Thaxanos Immortals Fatale

Subject X Blood and Death X

The air was practically alive with charged energy. A storm was coming,
so massive and terrible it threatened to shake Algoron to its very core.

It was glorious to see.

As the Deathscythe moved from one kingdom to another, watching the Clans
from afar, studying the cities and the peoples, he saw them making their
preparations. Weapons being sharpened, potions being brewed, arcane lore
being studied. Everyone was ready for a chance to fight, and he spoke with
more than a few who were ready to give their lives for the Godswar, to see
the other side cut down and crippled.

It was going to be a bloodbath on a level hither to unto unseen. Zola
didn't even need to close his eyes to see blood raining
down from the
heavens, sweeping across Algoron in a tide of red. The vision was becoming
so crystalline and clear he wondered if that wasn't reality, and what else
he saw was a mere trick of the eysight.

Tonight, someone would die.

Fatale be praised indeed.

Writer: Rasavadi

Date Sun Jul 1 15:06:11 2018

To Shadow Eclipse Verminasia All Imm RP

Subject A dedication of war

Lord Mencius, every battle cry this eve, I dedicate to you.

Lord Devion, every feint of my blades this eve, I dedicate to you.

Lord Dragoth, every corpse that rots this eve, I dedicate to you.

Lord Fatale, every drop of blood that falls this eve, I dedicate to you.

Queen Drakkara, every word of magic uttered this eve, I dedicate to you.

Master Necrucifer, every thought, word, and deed done for the darkness this
eve, I offer to you.

Writer: Tamaska

Date Sun Jul 1 15:25:43 2018

To Shadow Eclipse Verminasia All Imm RP

Subject Oaths and Mental Preparations

The winds whipped around the young yinn as she stood, once again, in
front of the Basilica doors just as she had so many months before. Her
journey did not begin here though it might as well have. The core members
of the Rebirth of Eclipse had declared their intentions and imparted the
vision right in this very spot. She remembered it like it was only days ago
instead of months.

Since then they'd brought in many new members, found another sister, marched
across Icewall, formed a bond with those of Storm and fought many a battle.
They'd gained members and they had buried members. They would likely gain
and lose more, it was just the way of things. As guardian she carried with
her a part of every member of Eclipse, both dead and alive, whom had taken
the blood oath.

"Independence breeds chaos. Submit and be strong, " Tam, uttered under her
breath as she slung her staff over her shoulder and stepped close to the
door. She traced along the carvings with her fingertips, her frosty breath
pooling around her in the air. "Death is patient. It flows both from
without and from within. Be vigilant in all and skeptical of all. "

As she spoke her fingers wove through the horrifying scenes, winding their
way to the black weeping sun. "One who follows the heart finds it will
bleed. " Her breathing picked up a bit as she stared at that sun with a
burning intensity, her fingers tracing every line and curve, every weeping
darkness that spilled down from it, "Restinguere solem. "

For a moment she stood there frozen, her hands pressed against the inky
darkness that rained down from the weeping sun before finally pushing
through the doors and stepping through them. This time she did not pause
but let her feet carry her briskly to the Chancel of Souls, pulling her helm
off and tucking it under an arm as she did. She suddenly stopped in the
center and turned slowly, looking around the chancel in silent reverence.

She placed her helm aside and unfastened the vambrace above her tattoo
before setting it with her helm. Afterwards she retrieved a dagger from her
pack and pressed it into the skin above the eclipsed sun until blood began
to seep out. She tilted her arm, eyes watching the blood as it started to
trail down over the symbol of Necrucifer that eclipsed the sun. "By these
words and by this blood I pledge my life to you. "

The yinn's nostrils flared as her breathing deepened and her eyes fell
closed. "This fight will not be easy, Father, the light is like a caged
animal now. Their backs are against the wall and its all on the line.. A
dangerous combination. But we have spent much time preparing and we will
see this end and the darkness rise. "

Grabbing her helm and vambrace, Tamaska slipped them on, not bothering to
clean the blood. She glanced around the chancel before strolling back out
towards the door, her words echoing through the chambers, "They will bleed
for you, one way or another, God."

Kill for the living....

Kill for the dead..."

Writer: Cassian

Date Sun Jul 1 16:05:14 2018

Writer: Rasavadi

Date Sun Jul 1 21:00:10 2018

Writer: Arreana

Date Sun Jul 1 21:08:47 2018

To All Imm Religion Taliena

Subject Flowers for Siccara

"Lady Taliena... " Arreana could hear her voice crack as she stood in the most
peaceful surroundings one could imagine, and yet there was no peace in her

"Let us collect flowers for Siccara's Temple" Arreana announced to the kingdom
after several moments of pause.

The magic came to her lips and suddenly she was holding a red rose, a solitary
rose, but one nonetheless. As she did, Geirhart entered the temple and looked at

"How many, Cardinal?" He asked, then whispered the magic to summon a rose as
well, he did it several times.

"We will find flowers from All over." Arreana said, still numb, still struggling
to process everything that had happened.


Arreana glanced at the beautiful wildflowers that blossomed in the quiet meadow,
the beauty of Tropica was alive as ever. Her homeland was still gone, nothing
would change that, but she had joined the Wrath of Justice now. She would fight
alongside her new brothers and sisters, bringing justice to a dark and broken

Kneeling, Arreana plucked some of the wildflowers and held them to her nose. She
closed her eyes and inhaled. The pollen nearly made her sneeze, but the moment
passed and she could smell the floral scent that reminded her of home. There
were too few to rebuild, but her people had found new homes as she had. And they
would always return to Tropica, as she did, to celebrate the home and the family
that they lost. Malachive couldn't take that from them.

Arreana looked up at the sky, in one of the few places in the jungle where the
sky could actually be seen. It was a clear and brilliant blue, with naught a
wisp of cloud to mar it. A couple of seagulls flew overhead, and Arreana yearned
to join them, but she needed to head back. To fight on. Her brothers and sisters
needed her to. Taliena needed her to. The holy family, what remained of them
after Kadiya's passing, needed her to.


"Lady Taliena. To lose a child... not one, but two. Both of your daughters, your
beautiful daughters. It is a fate that I cannot begin to fathom. But, in her
sacrifice, Siccara revealed the very best of what we believe, of what you taught
and teach us. With love, we can always find a way.

"It may not be easy. In fact, so often it turns out that it's hard, far harder
than we could imagine. But we fight to stand together. We fought to save Nadrik,
and we did. Without Siccara's aid, far more might have been lost.

"We will honor her sacrifice by bringing life to some of the places where she
was worshipped. May her presence guide us always, and remind us that sometimes
healing is not found within the mending magic we so well know, but in sacrifice
for a cause greater than we could ever be. I love you, now and always.

And with that, Arreana fell silent. She would collect flowers as well, but,
first, she needed rest. They had lost far less than she had expected they would,
and yet it still felt too much to bear.

Writer: Erebaal

Date Sun Jul 1 21:51:32 2018

To All ( Chaos Malachive Religion Immortal Scorn )

Subject A Fine Day

He was slow to wake, a failing of the age he felt creeping into his body
despite the rigors of his life of war and the powers of the Warp.

As he stirred into motion, like a golem given anima, he beheld his
Champions, the faithful warriors of the Warp, assembled with a fresh zeal he
had not beheld since the unleashing of the Deathsong, years and more prior.
They stood bloodied, battered, and broken in some places. Some with fewer
limbs than when he had last closed his eyes. It mattered not, for they
stood despite their losses. They stood defiant, stood proud, far more than
the furious rabble that had come to him seeking guidance.

'What has transpired? ' The voice beneath his helm growled with dark
authority, invested by the edifice that loomed behind him, swallowing him in
its shadow. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, import
lending weight to the moment. He felt it, calamity on the air like the
seconds before a lightning strike.

The following hours were spent recounting battle, of carnage, of bloodshed,
of betrayal, both small and great, and finally, of Death.


A sound filled the Warp, an ugly, raucous sound that had no place in the
world. It was mirthless and yet full of satisfaction, a hateful utterance
that bubbled out of the mouth of the Everchosen. It was laughter, the first
uttered in several years, and All the Warp felt it.

Writer: Kaelowyth

Date Sun Jul 1 22:04:13 2018

To All ( Immortal Roleplay Zandreya Religion Storyline )

Subject The awful grace of god ( Part 2 )

It was a unique sensation, being above the world of Algoron, knowing that
one walked amidst the night sky and strode the worlds far above the
firmament below. Strange, yet not wholly unpleasant. So it was, that the
Elf had mused upon this greatly, while the sounds of battle - muted and
distant warred on below. He had arrived late, not because he did not see
the merit of such a 'final' battle, but because he had no desire to sway its
outcome. He had vowed to set himself apart from such things, to only take
action if it would hasten the inexorable end to his curse. Yet how could he
know, how could he possibly fathom that this day would see one of those
chains of bondage severed irreparably?

The sudden heat, the sheer -purity- of white that enveloped him reminded the
Elf briefly of his attempt at death - the feeling of his very *being*
wrought into motes of ash. Yet unlike that burning agony, there was no pain
this time. There was nothing but the heat, the utter lack of any other
color, perhaps this was some new torment? Some new penance he would serve,
trapped in eternal light. Yet as suddenly as that heat had come, it
vanished. And with it, something which struck the Elf to his very core. It
was a sensation he had felt many times before, yet somehow *different*.

It was a distinct feeling of something *missing*, as it had when Zandreya
had shunned him. The first time it had been a staggering, all-encompassing
feeling of loss. As though some critical and divinely-crucial part of him
was missing. The second time, it had been lessened, it had been angrier,
like a mother withholding sweets from a petulant child. This? This was

It was as if a part of him had been excised, with great care and precision.
There was not a loss of power, of relevance, of something crucial to his
being. There was a loss of a barrier. It was as if he were *lighter*, as
if something thick and cloying that he had grown used to was suddenly
removed. There was still one chain left, one distinct pressure which
stifled him, yet even that felt overwhelmingly lighter. As if a gaze which
had been focused squarely upon him had suddenly shifted.
He knew that such would never have happened unless...

Unless one of two gods, had been destroyed.

Writer: Damerus

Date Sun Jul 1 22:23:24 2018

To All Arkane (Nadrik Religion Imm RP Admin Storyline )

Subject When the Dust Settled

He stood upon the threshold, gazing into the darkness. The chamber was
cold, motes of dust dancing upon the gentle breeze that invaded with the
opening of the massive double doors. Closing the doors behind him, he
strode confidently into the room, his boots echoing off the marble floor
with each step taken. Before him, the painted glass mural stood monolith.
Moonlight poured in past the symbols of the neutral gods, illuminating the
row of urns that sat carefully within their mohogany display case.

He moved around the honeycomb walls, carefully gazing upon the caskets
interred within them. He reached a soot-stained hand out to rest upon their
ends, carefully stroking the nameplates of each as he passed them. Many of
them were men and women he had known, names that were slowly being lost to
time. He smiled as memories of his time with them came flooding back to
him. When he finally came to the two he was looking for though, the smile
faded. Replaced instead by a somber look of longing, he sucked a deep
breath in through his nose and held it for a moment, only exhaling when the
pressure of it began to burn his lungs. With it came an audible sigh.

'It's been awhile. I miss you both still. '

He gently brushed a dirty thumb over a nameplate that read Lasaundra

'I should have cleaned up, I know! But I needed to come see you both first
thing. I have good news!

He turned his eyes upon the other casket. Gently brushed his fingers across
the nameplate that read Deilend Wood-Firebeard.

'The day we dreamed about has finally come to pass! We never made it to
Gareth ... But we rescued Lord Nadrik, just as we told each other we would.

Tears brimmed in his eyes, the left of which was little more than an orb of
crimson with a glacial blue iris at its center. He smiled at the caskets, a
confused smile of both the sorrow he felt, as well as the joy.

'I thought this would mark the day that we would finally be reunited. Yet I
still draw breath. I fear life has waylayed me for longer still. There's
more to be done.

Damerus carefully wiped the tears from his eyes, took one more deep breath
and began to talk. Of the battle and how events unfolded. He spoke as if
to a rapt audience, and he spoke with the passion and conviction of a man
with renewed purpose. He spoke intently. He spoke eagerly, and he spoke

Writer: Telthian

Date Sun Jul 1 23:39:45 2018

To All ( Necrucifer Religion )

Subject Precipice

The priest follows the corridor, narrow and claustrophobic. The
passageway descends down into a foreboding darkness. No light penetrates
the heavy gloom and the all-consuming blackness requires the way forward to
be known or blindly felt out. The frigid temperature gradually yields to
some warmth as the corridor meanders deeper still within the heart of the
mountain. Finally, a malignant orange hue marks the entrance to a landing
of basalt and obsidian carved by veins of lava which extend toward a black
horizon before vanishing into the maw of an abyssal hungering nothingness.

Drawing upon the power that still lingers there, he kindles a globe of
hellfire, nourishing it with his breath.

The fire burns, consuming first his gloves, then the flesh of his hands.

Slate eyes, cruel and filled with hate, stare into that black abyss in
search of something, just beyond the haze of perception.

Writer: Liviya

Date Mon Jul 2 01:27:24 2018

To Damerus Zola All ( Imm Religion Necrucifer )

Subject Never to Mourn

Liviya sat in the armchair of the home that wasn't hers yet was, the blood red chasubule
of her vestments held between her hands. One thumb traced the pentagram stitched
into the end as her mind rested in somber reflection. Normally she shed the robes
at the door, a sign of the truce she kept here for the sake of her family. This
night, they clung to her still, soaked with blood and burned by fire and acid. It
would feel different tonight to take them off.

Somehow, she wasn't angry. The moment she had faced Damerus at the end of it all,
she had even laughed-- that for their years of strife, and the bitter, persistent
fights between them, both had treated it as a foregone conclusion that Nadrik
would die and Necrucifer would reign. She hated that it amused her, how wrong they
had been.

Inside herself, she felt stillness and calm. Loss, but no grief. In Darkness, all
things were doomed to Death. All things to Rot. And though the schism had already
begun and the rally against Drakkara had been called, she couldn't find herself hating
the Mistress of Dark Magic. Necrucifer's arrogance- a trait so often seen and
celebrated in His faithful- had cost Him His existence. So be it.

Her service to Him had always been through serving His people- the whole of the
Dark flock- and in practical terms, the presence or absence of Necrucifer Himself
had no bearing on that. She was a priest of Evil. A priest of Free Will. And
now that He was gone, someone had to make sure the Darkness didn't splinter entirely.

She had faded into obscurity years ago now out of the sense that there was nothing
more for her to do. Now, there was too much. Bowing her head a brief moment in
remembrance, she slipped open the first button of her robes. Taking them off now
would feel different than it ever had. But she would put them back on tomorrow.

Writer: Kaelowyth

Date Mon Jul 2 10:46:15 2018

To All ( Immortal Roleplay Religion Storyline )

Subject The awful grace of god ( Part 3)

Returning to Sylvestris Hold was not easy. For centuries now, it had
become the Elf's tomb - a solemn outcropping of limestone and granite that
few dared venture near, let alone occupy. Yet it was -his-, wholly and
undeniably -his-, and so even if it represented as surely as he himself did,
the permanence of his curse, it was still his home. He had deliberately
kept All of the symbolism and religious iconography to a bare minimum,
having dealt with the gods too many times to find them above reproach or to
be wholly revered. So with the exception of the odd tree motif, or the
cloaked and hooded figures that sometimes found their way into his decor -
it was not quite returning to a home after the loss of a lover and having to
destroy or remove All reminders of them.

This was not that in the slightest, for there was no bitterness in the Elf's
heart at the loss of Necrucifer. There was no pining and sense of
foreboding loss. He knew All too well that another would step into his
place, and would try to lead those who pledged themselves to the Darkness.
No, the reason it was difficult to return to his home was because now, he
was faced with a choice: To remain here, to continue his hedonistic and
ultimately apathetic approach to the end of days - or to venture forth and
try to remove that final piece of bondage.

He detested change, these moments of uncertainty that disrupted the careful
patterns he had seen woven time and time again in the history of this world.
So it was, that when he -did- return to his holdings, he did so with a
petulance and an irritability that saw several new scores in the thick stone
walls of the keep.

"Yes, yes. He's -dead-. Yet his followers still mill about, pining.
They're as likely now to try and hunt those who did 'not do their part' as
they are the betrayers. So then what, Kaelowyth, what do you do? You have
poisoned too many wells, burned down too many bridges, cloistered yourself
away for far too long."

Cloister. That single thought for some profound reason -stuck- with the
Elf, leading his mind down a series of dark paths, with only one ending. It
was a terribly risky endeavor, one which would like-as-not, see no fruitful
consequence - but it was a path nonetheless.

Kaelowyth would return to the Abyss. He would find an end to his servitude.
He would...

Bargain with the gods.

Writer: Thaydius

Date Mon Jul 2 13:03:16 2018

To All ( Imm Religion Siccara )

Subject Frozen Hearts

In every direction there was nothing but the overwhelming snow of the
frozen wastes. Aside from a squall passing through the mountainous reaches,
it was silent in All directions for miles. There weren't any trees to
struggle against the weather and no creatures to shift the surface of the
snow. The only living thing in this bleak and perilous place was the
despondent Frost Giant.

He laid on his back and stared up toward the sky with an expression of
anguish, unaffected by the bitter cold of his surroundings. After the
heroes had witnessed the great blast on the Black Moon, he could feel his
insides starting to experience some kind of trauma. In that unholy place,
he couldn't feel his connection to his Mother. He had presumed it was a
matter of being overwhelmed by the divine energy of the place. Blood was
seeping out of his mouth and his vision was blurry. All that endless energy
that had followed him through his life was running out.

It wasn't until some higher power placed him back upon Algoron that his
reorientation gave him an understanding of what had come to pass. The
sudden shock of losing his Mother was a pain that registered with an
intensity that he hadn't experienced in decades of being a victim to the
violent desires of Algoron. The woman that had given him life had lost hers
in that battle on the Black Moon.

Everything that he had done in his life he had done for her. He wanted so
earnestly to try to show that he was worthy of the gift that he was given.
He wanted to make her proud, to live a life that would be worthy of the
bloodline that he carried. But now, he couldn't feel that gentle guidance
and persistent love of his goddess mother. For the moment, he couldn't feel
anything except the stinging pain of losing his only parent. The strongest
connection in his life.

What was he supposed to do, now? The powers of the White Moon, the essence
of the Goddess of Healing remained within him. Was he to pick up her
teachings and assume some kind of role where he would try to oversee and
guide the children who believed in Siccara? He had failed in every attempt
he made to become a leader or figurehead in the past. He had failed in so
many things that he set out to do ... And yet he kept living through all
these traumatic experiences.

And still ... Silence. Silence from his family, silence from the White
Moon for years and years. Were they drifting apart from him on purpose? Or
was his diminished voice too weak to reach the heavens anymore?

Writer: Arreana

Date Mon Jul 2 15:06:41 2018

To All Imm Religion Taliena

Subject Peace, After the Storm

Everyone talked about the calm before a storm.

The why was obvious. That sense of calm that often preceded disaster was often
felt for what it was: an omen of the chaotic things to come. Such had been the
case prior to what would likely be known as The Battle of the Black Moon. It was
an event that would define the history of Algoron for better or for worse. But,
after Evil obtained the fourth shard, the only ones they needed to stop Good in
their quest for the magical eighth that would save Nadrik, there had been an
intense calm, an uneasy silence.

Sure, there were missives. There was plenty of taunting from Evil and the
strength of their Unity. But from the gods there was nothing. Arreana had spent
the entire time between the last shard quest and the Battle entirely within the
Church of Light.

She was sustained by her prayers and her faith. Though that didn't mean she was
alone either. Shilo stopped by to share the sort of food that Ariel liked best:
nuts, berries, and other light things.

There was Geirhart, ever faithful in his vigilance to ensure that there were no
hostiles within the Church attempting to desecrate it. They talked, not only of
what was to come, but also of the auspicious promotion he had received, helping
to recognize him as one of the more fervent priests of Goodness.

Thaydius stopped by, as did Mercerion, Cieran, and several others. There was
also the Vigil, attended by allies and "enemies" alike. There was no love lost
between herself and the Slayer, Cassian. Though she held him no specific emnity
either. The Dwarves couldn't make it, neither did the Wrath. Gabriela, High
Keeper of the Eldritches represented the Elves. There was Mercerion from the
Knights, and the usual suspects from Althainia.

There was plenty of commotion. But it was silent commotion. It was calm, almost
peaceful, were it not for the trembling in her heart. She expected no less from
Taliena than to risk herself trying to save one of her children. Still, she
would be vulnerable. That was not a thought that Arreana had to entertain often.
Still, if the goddess of Love knew of Arreana's worry, she did not respond to
soothe it.

That was, again, expected. The holy family undoubtedly prepared for the coming
battle. The fears and concerns of one little Cardinal were hardly important on
the grand, cosmic scale.

All of that was before, however. Now, after, there was yet another calm. But it
was a different calm. Arreana couldn't say which one troubled her more.

The Ariel fidgeted as she sat on a bench on Siccara's Temple. Beside her, the
Silver Erisma snoozed. Though the Silver was still relatively young, and hadn't
necessarily placed her name among the most well-known Firstborne of the realm,
she was known to Arreana, and Arreana couldn't help but feel an intense, deeply
saddening connection to the poor Silver.

However, there was a bright spot amid the uneasy quiet.

Before Arreana lay a glorious and beautiful array of flora. Exotic orchids, more
common roses, violets, tropical flowers, buttercups, and lilies. One rose, a
snowy-white one, was even encased in perpetual ice. That had come from Erisma,
Arreana knew as she had been present to see it placed.

All about the Temple there were signs of love. The love of followers of Siccara,
as well as those of the Light that didn't follow her. The love in the Temple was
a beautiful testament to the unity of the Light. As broken as so many might have
felt after the Battle of the Black Moon, the Light had once again showed an
arcanium-forged bond, the sort of bond that was needed to truly bring love,
justice, goodness, kindness, and peace to the realm.

Writer: Mezlak

Date Mon Jul 2 16:34:04 2018

To All Marauders Grumf ( Imm RP Religion Raije Tashio )

Subject Understanding

The beating had finally died away, seeming to drift back into the stone
of the temple. Slowly Mezlak opened his eyes and stared straight ahead.


He began to pace back and forth, his left hand griping tightly to the hilt
of the sword hanging at his hip. He'd joined the battle on the Dark Moon as
a priest of Raije. The old dwarf had chosen one side of the fight, and
Mezlak followed, not blindly, but because his reasons were sound. Mezlak
had sought the battle because it was going to be one long remembered, and
what faithful of Raije, let alone priest, would willingly miss it.


He was aware of what transpired on the Dark Moon, what mortal wasn't. If
they hadn't heard the balanx's account, the steady stream of missives
spouting rhetoric of one side or the other would allow most to piece
together the deaths of Siccara, Mencius, and Necrucifer, and Drakkara's roll
in it.


It was world shattering, that much was clear. The fallout from this will
have effects long into the future, decades if not centuries. Everyone will
take it as signs of doom, gloom, the beginning of the fall of Darkness, the
true strength of Light, or whatever their beliefs lead them to believe.


Now Raije came to Mezlak. Wanting him to give understanding to the realm.
The God's desire had surprised Mezlak. He was still trying to piece
together what truly happened, and try to guess where the chips would fall.


Mezlak was wanting time to understand it himself. Time, however was not an
ally here. What did this All mean? What would come of All this? Who would
gain? Who will fall?


The only thing that Mezlak knew for sure was that this was far from over.
The battle on the Dark Moon was not the promised "end". Mezlak had known
this going in, only a giant ogre that had lost it's wits completely wouldn't
have known that. Everything up to this point was merely preamble. Now the
true God war would begin. Now perhaps All will see, there is no such thing
as a world without war. Even should Light fully destroy the Dark Moon and
all who've ever claimed it as home, they would find someone else to struggle
against. They had to, if only to prove their own piety and righteousness,
even if it meant turning on themselves. Should Darkness recover and utterly
snuff out the Light, they would always be looking for someone to subjugate.
That's the nature of Darkness, never trusting anyone and using whatever
means necessary to keep their vaunted power.


War would always have a place in the world. Battle was part of life. Deny
it All they wanted, but they would only prove him right.


Writer: Ithelim

Date Mon Jul 2 17:15:51 2018

Writer: Wyltte

Date Mon Jul 2 17:43:19 2018

To All Imm Religion RP

Subject Dust - I

Wyltte stumbled through the forest, his robes still soaked in blood,
clumps of dust from the Black Moon stuck to him like mud. The Deathwatch
soldiers had All gone back to the base, protecting the assets after the
world went to war. Like a man just waking up from a coma, he blindly pushed
through the deep snow unsure of where he was going.

He was always the one with answers. That is what people looked to him for.
There are no answers for this, and as he slammed into the tree trunks,
leaving behind crimson stained reminders of his frailty, All he had was

He was preparing himself to be one of His Knights. He had the vision in the
cave, where the single drop of blood mixed with the snow into a yawning
abyss. He had thought that showed he was favored of God. Such hubris was
foolish. He was left with the reality he was just a man. One whom every
second was leaking life from his wounds.

A noise deep from in the woods caused him to turn his head, searching for
the origin point. He was ready to take any life, to ram his blade through
the stomach of the first thing that approached, so he can imagine the faces
he wanted to see burn in the abyss die by his hand. Even if it meant his
own life, he wanted to see something die.

The noise quieted for a few seconds, and Wyltte fell to one knee. He did
not want to admit to himself that his strength was fading. It may have been
all in his head, the feeling that God's presence fading from his spirit.
Though he knew his blood ran through the very ground itself, the devastating
reality brought him low. Even in this extreme cold, sweat formed on his
forehead but turned to droplets of ice before it hit the snow.

As he scanned the woods, looking for any sign of life, flashbacks from the
battle raged in his head. Elves, dark of heart but still fighting for the
light. Turned into the slaves the light has always wanted. Dwarves who
claim neutrality, their auraless being outshone by those of golden hearts.
They too did not realize they would be swallowed alive by the light's
insatiable hunger for control. Everywhere the screams of the dying, the
clash of blades, and the pain as he fell in service to his Master.

The sound of rustling branches came again, this time much closer. Wyltte
spun to meet it, his sword raised clumsily to defend himself. A single
trickle of blood fell into the snow as the creature came upon him. A
massive mountain of ebony fur and teeth of ivory white. He swung his blade
in a lazy arc towards the beast, but a massive paw swiped it away with such
force it embedded itself in a nearby tree. Within moments it was upon him,
ripping at his neck. The spittle covered his face as he grasped at the
beast's throat. As it made to try and sink its teeth in his throat, Wyltte
was able to see its wild eyes. They were slate gray, the color of a
lifeless mountain. And there was such intelligence in them... And

The beast's assault faltered for a moment and he took advantage of the
break. He was able to grab the arcanium fang at his side and plunge it into
the beast's belly. A human like scream bellowed forth from its throat,
high-pitched and maniacal. Then the massive paw came crashing down into his
face, and All faded to black.

Writer: Hrentun

Date Mon Jul 2 18:02:56 2018

Writer: Pomacanthus

Date Mon Jul 2 18:03:56 2018

To Conclave Marauders All (Raije RP Fatale Milleuda)
Subject A Matter of Results

Three gods lay dead.

Everywhere, hostilities bristled.

Fires had been lit, this night - fires not easily snuffed out.

The darkness snarled at the light, and the light bared teeth at the darkness
- and both fought amongst themselves, torn by the agony of loss and the hurt
of betrayal. A thousand personal wars were on the verge of breaking out,
with old grudges festering and oozing.

It was enough to bring a smile to the monstrous face of the disfigured elf.

For All who had lost, she, at least, had won.

War would come. And with it would come Death.

Writer: Wyltte

Date Mon Jul 2 23:22:24 2018

To All Necrucifer Imm RP Religion

Subject Dust - II

The unmistakeable sound of the ocean could be heard roaring in the
distance as Wyltte comes to. His face was sore from the beast's attack, his
throat raw and scratchy and his entire body was racked with pain. As tiny
specks of light started to dance in his newly opened eyes, and slowly into
view came the interior of a tiny cabin. The walls were covered in old
vines, and random bits of animal parts are strewn across long strands of
sinew hanging from the ceiling. He started to rise up, trying to asses his
situation. In the far corner, barely visible through the flickering
firelight, was the form of a woman.

"Ya vere out for some time... Vild vone" she says, and in her hand was a
small curved blade. She was sharpening it with a whetstone, the "thwick,
sound bouncing off the tiny walls. "Ya finally found yer vay...
Home, little brother"
. Wyltte's eyes grow wide as he bolts up, grimacing in
extreme pain. The light cast shadows everywhere, only able to see the woman
in the corner at certain moments. "thwick, thwick" went the blade as he
tried to make sense of the greeting. She leaned forward, the light
highliting her face clearly.

"Sister? You are... Aliv"... But before he could finish the word, a snake
shot out from where the woman was at, striking at Wyltte's arm. It's
poisonous fangs bit deep into his forearm, sending a shocking wave of pain
through him. His throat closed up and he started to sweat. He rolled off
of the litter he was sitting in and crashed to the floor. Within a moment
she was upon him, hand seizing his hair and lifting his neck up sharply.

"Aye" she whispered. 'Happy to see me know, brother? Vas expecting a varm
With that she slams his head into the floor, blood spurting form
his nose as it was broken on the splintered wood. He tries to roll over but
cannot, the venom starting to send him into convulsions. Wyltte slowly
inches his way towards the light peeking from the doorway, but with immense
strength he is dragged back by his ankles. She rolled him over and looked
down at him, hatred in her eyes. In her hand there was a crude rusted
dagger, raised high. "Now, you vill be he last bit ov past I need to kill.
Die as you vere meant to, brother"
she sats, plunging the blade downward.

Wyltte was able to conjure enough strength to lift his right leg, pulling it
up in a massive kick right to her stomach. As she fell forward with his
weight upon it, he thrust forward, sending her flying back into the wall,
the blade skittering across the old floor. Wyltte inches away slowly until
his back hits the wall, watching as she gains her footing again. Before his
eyes he watched her body morph and change, growing massive. Fur started to
grow from her skin, his face elongating and teeth jut out from her mouth.
As Wyltte slowly stands up, back against the wall, his sister was not a
fully transformed grizzly, bigger and meaner than he had ever seen. Her
eyes were on fire as she let out a ground shaking roar. The wind from the
blast plastered him to the side, until the force of the gale ripped the
boards off the joints and Wyltte goes tumbling out into the icy air.

Writer: Angela

Date Tue Jul 3 06:58:41 2018

Writer: Erisma

Date Tue Jul 3 09:23:41 2018

Writer: Vyasa

Date Tue Jul 3 11:27:11 2018

Writer: XiaXia

Date Tue Jul 3 14:49:38 2018

To All ( Imm Religion Taliena )

Subject In her own way, in a quiet manner, with heart and good intentions

XiaXia dipped her quill into a bottle of emerald ink and, after a brief
pause to think, continued her missive to Rimelin, the Kender priest of
Siccara. Her penmanship was elegant, an upright fluid scrip, and scrawled
beautifully over the ecru parchment. Her hand paused over the page, ink
balling up at the tip of the quill. How does one write a letter of this
nature? How does one console and offer aid to a Priest who had lost their
Goddess, their guiding force, their purpose. Were there words for this
occasion? No, words were nothing.

With a sigh she put down her quill and carefully capped the crystal bottle
of deep emerald ink. She would send the missive off, sure, but she decided
that it would be more meaningful to approach Rimelin when she saw him next
and offer her support directly. It seemed everyone was rallied by the
events -- rallied to talk. So many letters and missives flying around,
declarations to the masses, plans for vigils and services made before the
dust had even settled from battle. Talk, lots and lots of talk. It seems
that many had forgotten that a life in the cloth meant acting to serve
others, not to promote yourself.

XiaXia folded up the parchment and tucked it away -- she would act and leave
the talking to those more inclined to the dramatics.

Writer: Thaydius

Date Tue Jul 3 20:01:20 2018

To All ( Religion Siccara Imm )

Subject Memories and Regrets

Some makeshift attempt at a waypoint marked the tip-top of a prominent
mountain range overlooking a vast landscape to showcase Algoron's beauty.
The distant horizons contained muted colors of territory that had been
cleared by mortal hands. What was once assuredly a beautiful grove of trees
and other natural things had been reduced to another series of accomodations
to the already expansive network of humans. Low clouds traversed, wispy and
floating, in broken or breaking formations as they crept above the hilltops
and reaching buildings of this meager settlement.

He had shed the thick and protective armor that had become a second skin for
him over decades of work. He unceremoniously hung it from the wooden post
and sat cross legged more than a mile above the sea. His eyes were still
weary from crying and his expression hadn't wiped away the despair of what
had transpired while he toiled away on the surface of the Black Moon. Each
and every little memory of the brief moments he had spent with Siccara
lingered, superimposed, over the otherwise breathtaking view.

When she had spoken to him through the heavens themselves, to grace his ears
with the sweet and melodious sound of her Goddess voice upon his ascendant
ears, he took every word and committed them to memory. Just as he had
decided and sworn to remember the memory of her smiling down at him when he
was a newborn. The indulgent recollections occupied a bittersweet place in
his heart, as he had never wanted anything more in his life than to meet her
once again before fate took him. It was a longshot wish, and even a bit
selfish for someone like him. He tried not to indulge in the concept that
he needed or wanted anything beyond what he had already been given. But why
should a boy feel guilty for wanting to see his mother just one more time?

They're going to need you...

That was what she had told him. He held his hands over his face and his
lips quivered, more tears sneaking between his pristine fingers and bringing
the tiniest warmth to his otherwise chilled body. He struggled to
understand what they would need from him. But he would never question his
Mother's wisdom, instead he always sought to find the way to fulfill what
she had wanted from him. Did he accomplish it, before she died? Did she
know that he loved her and he missed her so? He didn't get to say goodbye.
He didn't get to say anything to her.

But I need you.

Writer: Telthian

Date Wed Jul 4 00:11:13 2018

To All ( Imm Religion )

Subject Sanctification

The air was thin high above the frozen tundra below, and it was a wonder
the brazier produced any comfort at All in the unforgiving cold and
merciless wind. Heavy furs hung from the priest's broad shoulders as he
looked out from the crown of the world down over the snow-choked lands. Far
off in the distance, once a resplendent imperial state flourished, but it
too suffered the sins of disloyalty. And yet, he could feel it somewhere
off on the horizon, the instrument of its entwined destinies - the seed of
both doom and rebirth.

But now...

A jolt of abyssal power coursed through him, as the umbric seal upon the
warhammer at his hip awoke, smoldering with the promise of infernal malice.
Blood thundered within the priest's veins, the intense, familiar, crushing
pressure was weakened. Sweeping the blackened flesh of his hands over the
hammer's face, his fingers traced the latest seal confined in a ring of
shinalstin script not unlike that used by Dresthrin some time ago.

Setting his jaw, the priest turned to enter the frozen temple of his dead

The brazier continued its futile burn alone as the wind ripped across the
basilica's empty balcony.

Writer: Lothaw

Date Wed Jul 4 00:12:25 2018

To All ( religion imm rp Zandreya Kwainin )

Subject Daring to Hope

Lothaw wasnt sure he was doing the right thing when he stepped through
that portal to the Black Moon. It had been quite some time since he took up
arms, but the dark elf felt he had acquitted himself well. A few days after
the fact, he supposed it had ended up about as well as could be expected,
which was more than he almost dared hope.

He sighed as he gazed up at the night sky where All three moons could be
seen. He had walked on the red moon as well, the last time he assisted the
Light at Kwainins direct command. Just like this time, there were a good
many of his supposed allies in the struggle that were more interested in his
demise than his help. Unlike last time, not a single soul this time
bothered to even acknowledge or thank him for helping turn the tide. Though
if his years in Althainia shouldve taught him anything, tolerance and
graciousness was not always high on the lists of the holier than thou types
of the light pantheon.

On the surface, a new balance was struck between the warring powers, though
the proverbial scales were still shaking and it would be a long time before
anything approaching tranquility came to Algoron. Lothaw guessed the
consequences of the three god deaths would be a long time in playing
themselves out, especially amongst the darkness. He had conflicts with both
Siccara and Necrucifer at various times through his life, and now he had
outlasted them, he thought wonderingly. Lothaw prayed he did the right
thing, as he wasnt expressly commanded by Kwainin or Mother Zandreya to
intervene this time. He certainly couldnt understand how some that fought
for the darkness could claim they were somehow restoring balance, but fools
werent confined to any single pantheon of worship. So perhaps even in that
there was some balance.

Lothaws retirement had always had a hard time sticking as there always
seemed to be more to do, but whatever came from this, he just hoped he
wouldnt have to end up taking up arms on the white moon one day. Hopefully
the struggles would be worth it in some form, and faith would be rewarded.

Writer: Wyltte

Date Wed Jul 4 06:07:55 2018

To All Necrucifer Imm RP

Subject Dust - III

The frigid air assaulted his lungs, the splinters from being blown out of
the hut deeply embedded in his arms and legs. Wyltte backed away from the
she-bear demoness as fast as he could, but was reduced to a broken crawl.
He noticed as it lumbered forward that there were only three paws, missing
its front left foreleg.

He watched incredulously as she started to change back, the fur folding back
into her body as she stode towards him, each step measured and full of
purpose. Wyltte had no weapons and little strength after the Battle on the
Black Moon to defend himself, but he struggled to gain his feet anyways.

"You vere the very reason ve vere there that day, little brother. It vas
all about you."
She started in. Her left hand was nothing but a seared
stump, the scar tissue aged and charred. She came to stand over him again.
Wyltte had reached his knees, looking up at the raven haired woman. In the
light of the frozen sun, Wyltte could see her more clearly now.

Her raven hair had several silver streaks coursing through her long locks,
wild catastrophic waves everywhere. Her skin was an ivory pallor, but her
eyes were the same shade as Wyltte's. She was impossibly tall, but lithe.
Her exposed arms were covered in scars and burn marks.

Wyltte tried to gain his feet, but was met with a sharp kick to the teeth.
His head snapped back and he spat blood onto the dirty snow. "Don't you
think you are on my level, vee vone. You vill stay down!"
She screamed,
kicking at him again. This time she connected with his collarbone, sending
searing pain through his left side of his chest.

Wyltte looks up at the woman. "Why..." He asks through clenched and
bloody teeth, "Why are you doing this?"

"Why? Why he asks?" She inquires in disbelieve. "Because ov you, vild
vone, I lost everything!"
She yells. "Father, Mother, my hand, my very

Wyltte looks up at the woman perplexed. "What did I have to do with any of
He manages to get out before getting another boot in the face, a
fresh spray of blood in the snow.

"Vhen you vere born, our father's vee "vild vone", he gave up his life ov
vraiding and looting up and down the coast ov Tropica"
she starts, leaning
over him, the anger flashing in her gray eyes. "He vanted to show his
son... Like I vas no longer important... How to live a life that vas nay
just killing. So our proud clan, the Northman ov Clan Bjorn, vas reduced to
bloody traders"
. Here she leaned over him once more, anger so prevalent he
could feel the heat building up from her body.. Or he was going into shock.
"You vere the death ov your family, Iyvan".

At the mention of a name he had never heard in his adult life, a profound
anger started to rile up in his spirit. "You know not of what you speak,
Demoness. Who I am now is different from who I was. I had no choice in any
decisions that were put on my as a bloody child"
he says rising to his feet.
For the briefest of moments, he saw her body tense and takes a small step
back. It was only a moment before she lunged forward in his face again,
spittle at the corner of her mouth from her rage.

"You vere their hope! Their correction for the mistake they found in me!"
She screams, the teeth in her mouth starting to grow once more. "Ve vere on
the verge ov greatness, of domination. And because ov you..!"
Here she
lunges forward, her arm completely transformed into the massive bear paw.
Her face started to swell and change, eyes of anger staring back in his
face. "because ov you, I find a vay to destroy that last part ov my

She rushes forth with Wyltte towards the sea cliff. The violent water
beating at the land below. He digs in his heels, pushing back, but she was
filled with feral rage. Closer and closer they came, until there was no
more ground underneath his feet.

An eternal cold filled his being as he plunged into the depths.

Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Jul 4 22:45:53 2018

To All Storyline Religion Nadrik

Subject Reconciliation (Part I) ((Storyline: Nadrik's faith))

Mercerion walked slowly along the enormous hall. The walls were lined
with torches and niches, each niche containing small pedestals and placards.
Presently, only a small handful of niches were filled, the three that were
were All prominent figures in Nadrik's faith.

Mercerion's footfalls were heavy, a combination of exhaustion and
determination present in the accoustical report off the walls of the hall.
He approached the first niche, recognizing the statue within as the priest
Caenarfon, whom had served with Mercerion in Gareth, and fell, decieved by
Devion into believing he was offering deliverence to Nadrik.

Mercerion had been a part of many discussions with Caenarfon, served in many
battles. The two were brothers in faith, and close friends, though
occasionally their differences in views set them at odds in matters of

A sigh passed Mercerion's lips as he traced the words of the placard
describing Caenarfon's contributions to the church. Caenarfon wanted so
desperately to see the Lord returned, he fell victim to the deceptions of
the enemy.

"Rest Assured, Brother... He is home now." Came the words and quiet prayer
from Mercerion.

Mercerion leaned back on his heels, and moved to the next niche. Herein was
the form of the Eldest Steel, Immersa. The Aegis of Nadrik. Mercerion
remembered many discusions, and many more fights with this Steel. She was a
force to be reckoned with on the field, and often was as quick tempered as
the most devout priests of Nadrik's faith.

She had stated before her death, that if a time came to assault the moon,
she would lead the charge. Mercerion dipped his head and clasped his holy
symbol. She passed before they could attack the moon, but now at least she
would know that they had saved Him.

After a moment of gathering himself, Mercerion looked at the final niche,
and he felt the emotion gathering within him, tears falling from his eyes
before he ever even approached the final niche. The one belonging to Bolter

Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Jul 4 22:59:59 2018

Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Jul 4 23:13:21 2018

Writer: Mercerion

Date Wed Jul 4 23:22:33 2018

To All Immortal Religion Nadrik Storyline

Subject Reconciliation (Final) ((Storyline: Nadrik's faith))

The emotions settled within Mercerion as he looked up once again at
Bolter's statue. The results of the crusade had meant that Nadrik had been
freed. The despair that Bolter had known in his last hours, had been
remedied to an extent... And Mercerion's cause of them remedied. For
though they had faied a peaceable resolution, in the end they had still
obtained a measure of success, and He had been the forefront of the charge,
and the plan.

Finally, He had proven the Light's trust in Him to be worthy, and he had
only managed to do it in the most history defining event that Algoron had
seen to date. He had reconciled his previous failures, and though each of
these three champions of the Lord's faith were no longer present to see the
victory, or see his redemption... He knew they were aware.

The General collapsed to his knees at the foot of Bolter's statue and
prayed, through the entire evening until his body weakened to the point of
exhaustion. Seeking everything from forgiveness for his failures, to
assurement of Nadrik's health...


He prayed for the future of Algoron, at this point was both unsettled, and

Writer: Cassian

Date Thu Jul 5 14:08:17 2018

Writer: Ayrora

Date Thu Jul 5 17:22:48 2018

To All Sebatis Religion Immortal Tashio Kyri Ampersand Storyline

Subject A Hard Decision Made

Days had passed since the battle on the Black Moon and the uproar was
finally quieting down for Ayrora. People had called on her day and night
since that miserable eve.

She chose to spend the day in Sacnoth where she could just shut it All out
and think clearly with no interruptions. She knew she made the right choice
in turning away from Drakkara but another deity to serve had been proving
difficult to consider.

She took the long path to the orchard barely noticing anything she had
passed until she came upon a birds nest with three little babies calling
hungrily for their mother. A beautiful yellow finch jumped about the
branches watching her as she gently picked up the nest and placed it within
a basket of branches where it would remain strong for the safety of the baby
birds. As Rora walked further down the path, she turned and saw the mother
join her babies and smiled as she turned and continued her walk.

So much had gone through her mind the past few days but one thing continued
to come to mind, Lord Sebatis. No matter where she went nor what she did He
would enter her thoughts and open her mind to other things having to do with
magic. She finally reached her destination and sat beneath the fronds of a
very large weeping willow tree and prayed. "Lord Sebatis, God of magic, I
humbly come to Thee so You may hear my prayers. I have turned away from
from that which is wrong and seek that which is right and I believe I have
found it in You. I have renounced Drakkara and shall dedicate All my
prayers to You. I ask this in Your Name. Amen.

Ayrora leaned back against the tree with her eyes still closed. Exhaustion
caught up to her as she finally fell asleep.

Writer: Grokkel

Date Fri Jul 6 19:22:23 2018

To All Bodrum Freyalese conclave shadow bloodlust abbadon verminasia IMM RP

Subject Middle Ground

A large storm brews with a rolling thunder. The flash of lightning
illuminating the dark spaces... Echoes of a maddening howl like a waking
dead piercing Grokkel's ears. Myriads of shadows haunting the entire space
of the Black Tower Library.

"If they findsss this it could be our ruin"... Scanning the room carefully,
Grokkel turns his attention to a shelf labelled, "Interactions of The Arcane
and Divine". Shuffling through volumes of books not dusted off in ages and
placing the books one by one carefully and somewhat reverently to a small
table in the room. Turning through the pages looking for something that
would answer the questions Grokkel sought. How would his master empower his
Robes without thisss link.. Was thisss link a facade? How could he still
be wielding power without her darkness at its heart?

Peeking quickly over his shoulder grokkel pulls a tiny Star Sapphire Key
from his shirt pocket unlocking a hidden cabinet behind the shelf..

Grabbing a deep magenta candle almost in need of replacement, Grokkel locks
the door to the tower library throwing a pillow into the corner and grabbing
one the oldest volumes.. Seeming satisfied at the something found, Grokkel
remembers a conversation.

"Masssster Darkrock.. Priestss of magical godsss should be closer to the
towersss" "We will have ssssome to advise and counsssel?

"Aye lad, I wouldn't bae against it"

Grokkel would see his goddess back in her towers and was determined more
than ever.. The middle ground between Master Darkrock's righteous anger and
her faithful had to be found..

Sorceror Grokkel
Black Robes

Writer: Nehtur

Date Sun Jul 8 17:54:15 2018

Writer: Shilo

Date Sun Jul 8 19:25:41 2018

To All Althainia Abaddon ( IMM RP Taliena )

Subject Weakness of the Heart & Mind (Vampire Chronicles)

Shilo leaned heavily on her staff, shivering in the cold darkness, alone
within the funeral home. She had vanquished the restless spirits, sending
them off to their rests as she had done a thousand times before, offering as
much love as she could muster - which wasn't much, this time, she thought
guiltily. The usual satisfaction of a job well done was denied her. There
was no celebration in her heart, at the moment. Only fear and pain.

After Siccara's sacrifice, and the death of the dark gods, the vampires had
grown silent; the pain of the world had been enough to keep them from her
for a little time. Shilo had entertained the hope that it would be
permanent, but such was not the case. The ariel had grown careless, had let
herself be talked into standing in public, speaking and acting as though
there was nothing to fear. And then... Tonight.

The scene still played out in her head; the dancing, the revelry, the beauty
of the forests - and then that face. Donimas's face, disfigured by fang and
brow. The face of the undead, coming for her. She didn't know if it was
the same vampire or not; nor, truly, did she care. One was as bad as
another, and she had felt too much pain and agony take chances.

Like a coward, she had fled to safety. Taliena help her, she hadn't even
managed to make her exit graceful - the pain and fear had been scrawled
clearly on her face, the departure through woods and air clumsy and
panicked. And what had she done? She had found her way home, to begin
cutting once more. To cut and to cut and to cut until she was certain no
vampire could even attempt to link to her - to drive herself slowly back to
the edge of pain - just to avoid those terrible images, and the terrible
agony of madness. And when at last she had bled until her arm ached and
throbbed without end, until she could barely hold her staff, and no undead
could touch her - she had begun to train.

She was not proud of her actions; even less proud of the way she had taken
her pain out on the spirits of Winterhaven. Truth be told, she usually
approached them with love and comfort - but tonight, she had forced them
away, banishing them with a ruthlessness she didn't know she possessed. It
felt wrong. Terribly wrong. But wrong was better than weak. Wrong was
better than dead. Or worse, captive at the hands of one of those beasts.

Sinking to the ground, the ariel gave a shudder, her hands clenching into
fists at her own impotence. It seemed like everyone else under the sun was
trained well enough to keep their composure - to live without fear. And
yet, here she was. Trembling and broken, curled up in the corner of some
goddess-forsaken funeral home. She couldn't let the others see her like
this. Lost and alone, unable to even face those she had deserted in her
wake. It was her task to smile. To offer the kindness of Taliena to those
around her. And she had failed.

For many hours, Shilo sat, head buried in her arms, curled against her legs.
Eventually, the ghosts began to wake once more, to twist and turn and moan
their cries of defiance against the living - and Shilo rose with them, once
again beginning the mindless task of putting them down, ignoring the
bleeding bandage around her arm.

Never again.

Writer: Cassian

Date Mon Jul 9 14:59:33 2018

Writer: Rellinath

Date Fri Jul 13 00:07:01 2018

To All althainia imm rp

Subject End of the Hunt - When the Hunter Falls (Hunter of Gathna)

Rellinath dodged under the swipe of the werewolf in front of him, and
instinct told him to dive to the side to avoid the one that'd come up behind
him. Originally, there'd been only three of them, but they'd come out in
droves after he engaged, and he was admittedly finding himself overwhelmed.
Minah was with him, of course, darting in and out of the fight as she was
wont to do, but he figured sooner or later he'd have to retreat from this
fight. He was strong, he was fast... These days, even moreso with the Gift
coursing through his veins... But there were just too many, with more on
the way from the sounds of it.

He twisted, rolled, stabbed, and launched into a dive, and felt a sharp
tearing pain as one of the beasts scored a lucky blow, then another heavier
blow slammed into the back of his head, momentarily disorienting him. Long
enough for one of them to clamp down on his shoulder with its jaws and tear
at him with wicked claws for a few moments before Minah knocked it away.

That was it. Rell knew that last wound would prove to be mortal, and
although the Gift would bring him back soon enough, if one of them managed
to tear his head from his body while he was down, that really would be the
end of him. He grabbed one of the alchemical orbs he'd had prepared from
his pouch and hurled it into the ground, releasing a cloud of vaporized
wolfsbane into the air. The werewolves surrounding him howled in anger and
agony as the vapor rolled over them, and Minah dashed away, as she would
still be sickened by the vapors. Rell didn't technically need to breathe so
it wouldn't bother him, and he was fading anyway, but this would give him
the time he needed to recover.

The werewolves took flight, and Rell sunk to the ground, blood pouring from
the wounds he'd acquired in the fight. Suddenly, as his vision began to
darken, he heard a sharp cry cut through the night.

OI! There's a man down over there!

This wouldn't be the first time Rell had "died" in the wilds, but he'd
always hunted alone. He'd never fallen in front of witnesses before, and
nobody in Gathna knew his true identity, or the truth of his Kindred blood.
They would not understand when he did not stay dead.

As the light faded, Rell thought to himself: "Sh-"

Writer: Rellinath

Date Fri Jul 13 00:19:06 2018

To All althainia imm rp

Subject End of the Hunt - When the Dead Live (Hunter of Gathna)

"-it. "

It took every bit of willpower he had not to suddenly gasp for air as life
flooded back into his body. It was a jarring experience, coming back to
life after succumbing to something that would kill a normal, mortal man.
But he did not draw breath, and did not immediately open his eyes, listening
for signs of someone around him. When he heard nothing, he cautiously
opened his eyes.

Darkness. Wherever he was, it was pitch black.

He reached out, or tried to, only to have his hand bump into something, very
close. He tentatively tried to sit up, and bumped his forehead. Lifted a
knee, and that too struck something.

He was in a coffin. Figures. At least his weapons and armor would be
entombed with him, as per Gathnian funeral rituals. Minah could easily dig
him out of the shallow grave he'd be buried in, for fear of the gravedigger
being caught by one of the beasts roaming the wilds, and he could escape.

He let his hand fall to his chest, only to realize he wasn't wearing his
armor. He put his hands to his sides, feeling around next to him, but found
no weapons. Something was wrong, This wasn't normal.

"Ah, you awake in there? ", came a muffled voice from outside, followed by
a rasping sound just above Rell's head. The sound continued for a few
moments, then a bit of light creeped in as a sawblade cut through the wood
of the coffin. A few moments later, a cracking sound as the plank of wood
above Rell's head was removed to reveal his rescuer, the gravedigger.

"Thought ye might come around while I was getting me saw, " the gravedigger
said to him. "Kinda wish he hadn't, though. "

A chill crept through Rell as he realized that the gravedigger had removed
only enough of the coffin to expose his head... And neck.

"Ye've not been telling us the whole truth, have ye? But no matter. I know
who you are. I know WHAT you are. And soon, after I take your head, you'll
be nothing but a corpse, as you should be. "

Rell lurched suddenly, thudding against the inside of the coffin. No good,
it was cheap but sturdily made. Regardless, he refused to give up, bashing
against the inside of his prison as the gravedigger vanished from sight, to
return a few moments later with a large axe. The gravedigger raised the axe

"Goodbye, Kindred one. "

Writer: Rellinath

Date Fri Jul 13 00:29:24 2018

To All althainia imm rp

Subject End of the Hunt - Felled by the Fallen (Hunter of Gathna)

A bloodcurdling yowl cut through the air and a streak of black flew above
the coffin, drawing a gasp of surprise from the gravedigger as both he and
the killing axe vanished from sight.

"Minah... "

Rell couldn't see the scuffle going on outside, but he could surely hear the
startled and pained shouts of the gravedigger and Minah's angry growling and
snarling as a fight raged on. He continued to bash at the inside of the
coffin, feeling the tiniest bit of give, when he suddenly heard a pained
yowl from Minah.

His vision went red as his eyes flared with magenta flame. He focused the
power of his gift into his knee, along with All his will and the undeniable
rage he felt at the pain inflicted upon his friend. His focus narrowed, the
width and breadth of the world narrowing itself into that single point.

The world moved, and the prison gave way with the sound of splintering wood
and the squeal of iron as nails were ripped from the wood. Rell sat up,
just in time for the axe to come crashing down where his neck had been a
moment before. He lept away and rolled, coming to his feet five paces from
the gravedigger, who'd been badly clawed and chewed by the pantehr and was
obviously enraged at this development.

"So you got out. Fine by me. I'll take some revenge for the pain your
demon cat caused me afore I take your head! " the man snarled. Rell looked
down at himself, wearing nothing but his tunic and leggings, and shrugged,
putting up his bare hands in a fighting pose. The gravedigger grinned
wickedly and charged, lifting the axe high.

The gravedigger was strong, but he wasn't especially skilled with the axe.
He didn't know, couldn't know, that Rell had trained for hundreds of hours
with almost every type of weapon known to man, including those axes. He
knew the inherent strengths and weaknesses of it. For example, they were
extremely dangerous from a few feet away, but if you got in close, inside
the effective range...

The gravedigger launched his swing. Rell stepped into him, surprising him
with a punch to the throat. He reached up, grabbing the haft of the axe,
and drove his knee into the man's stomach. He twisted the axe from his
grasp, spun a full circle, and swung, the axe cleanly decapitating the man
with a single blow.

Writer: Rellinath

Date Fri Jul 13 00:38:45 2018

To All althainia imm rp

Subject End of the Hunt - Grave of the "Hunter" (Hunter of Gathna, Conclusion)

Rell braced himself. He'd never killed one of the Kindred before, and he
knew not what to expect. What he did NOT expect was what happened.


So the man wasn't a Kindred. But he had to be. He had to have felt Rell's
presence, how else could he have kno-

Wait... His ring. The signet ring he wore, with the crest of the Mamoritai
family and his own panther paw device. That must have been it. That told
the man who he was, that he was Rellinath Mamoritai of Althainia. And he'd
made his Kindred blood no secret back at home, so the man must have put it
all together and decided to try and steal his gift for himself when he was
presented for burial. Evil bastard.

Rell found his belongings in a box on the gravedigger's cart nearby. He
must have been preparing to smuggle them out so he could sell them later or
something. Or, who knows, maybe he was going to use them himself? It
didn't matter at this point. What mattered was what to do from here. He
couldn't go back to Gathna and try to explain this to the citizens of the
village there. The simple fact that he was alive would render them
unwilling to listen to him, they wouldn't accept who he was, not after he'd
tried to keep it a secret.

So... The hunter was dead. He had to be. He was dead, buried, and gone.

Rell picked up the body of the gravekeeper, taking a scrap of cloth from his
shirt before putting it into the coffin meant for him, and shoved it into
the shallow grave dug nearby. He piled the dirt on top and packed it in,
then walked a short distance back towards the village. He cut his palm and
smeared the cloth with blood, shredding it and dragging it through the
branches. Indeed, the hunter was dead and gone, and the gravedigger had
been taken by the beasts of the night on his way back to the village. This
was how it had to be. His time protecting the forests from the werebeasts
of Gathna was over.

Time to go home. Though they didn't really welcome him that warmly these
days, at least Althainia knew who, and what, he was.

Writer: Ayrora

Date Fri Jul 13 08:44:33 2018

Writer: Ayrora

Date Fri Jul 13 09:46:03 2018

Writer: Grokkel

Date Fri Jul 13 19:33:03 2018

To All IMM RP conclave

Subject Dark musings of her found

Walking down to the lower levels of the black towers..
. .. ...
Entering a practice room of midnite black granite..

"Yesss this will do fine.."

A magenta candle lit.. The book of the evening, "Universal Architecture
Series: Spidersilk weaving" Grokkel spent much of his time gathering
information from the towers immense library on subjects like the universal
architecture series...

Laying out a black velvet map and placing a variety of objects on the
ground, Grokkel finds a perfect upright posture and begins a deep low hum
fading to an almost inaudible vibration..

Losing self.. Connecting this vibration to the vibration of the objects
placed on the floor, Grokkel's Physical body begins convulsing, pulsing with
a mystical energy drawing a subtle nonspoken communication into hidden
libraries of the physical body. Creating a felt heat in the otherwise
frigid practice room of the black towers, The Magus slowly stops shaking and
begins to open his eyes.. Beginning a sinister and wicked laugh echoing
through the solid granite itself...

"You can take her from her towersssz but she ownssz yer dark black heart!"


Picking up the objects and rolling up the mat.. Laughing wildly in between
a cold empty stare.. Before blowing it out, "There will alwayssz be one to
light this here and one to blow this out"..

(whistling a chill sending tune)

-Archmagus Grokkel Black Robes

Writer: Grokkel

Date Fri Jul 13 20:02:20 2018

To All IMM RP conclave Drakkara

Subject A stroll by the sea

Grokkel approached the Dark Ziggorat looking for validation from her
faithful in the decisions of his master. How where the powers granted by
her still present in her towers? Grokkel walked past the statue of the
demon slain by his master Bodrum to control the black tower to the priestess
in the room. Seemingly holding back on the celebration and comforting the
others in the room, displaying effectively the roll of a priestess. From
the sinister smile on Grokkel's face you could see their weakness pleased
him. The young priestess delivers a timely message condoning his masters
actions. Unsettling to some surely, but pleasing.. All was going to plan..
She was moving and working through the walls of the towers and Algoron so
subtly only the most sensitive and patient could feel..

-Archmagus Grokkel Black Robes

Writer: Jadelyn

Date Fri Jul 13 20:19:51 2018

To All Imm RP

Subject The Prodigal Daughter Returns

"Land ho! "

A smile played on the young woman's lips after calling out to the crew of
the ship. The docks of Althainia were in full view now as she clung to the
rigging close to the crow's nest. A gnomish man tried to glare at her over
the edge of the nest, but All she could see was his nose and his eyes.

"That's my line! "

"Y'know, yer cute when yer angry. " The gnome huffed and disappeared,
leaving the woman chuckling. Shaking her head, her red hair whipped around
in the wind as her eyes returned to the docks. How long had it been since
she had been here? Years, for sure. She lost count out on the sea.

That was fine. She needed it. She needed the break from everything, but
she knew she couldn't stay away forever. Rumors had reached her ears, and
she knew that she had to go back. She couldn't say she was looking forward
to the return she loved the sea so much that leaving it for land seemed
almost like a betrayal.

It had to happen eventually, right? After years of moving from ship to
ship, crew to crew, never making herself known to anyone. She was sure some
knew who she was, but no one made a stink about it. They let her work and
fight with them. They let her drink with them. They left her alone to her
rest. No one pried, and she quickly silenced those who tried to probe too
far. She didn't kill them, but they learned how strong she was despite her
small frame. Knocking a few teeth out of nosy prats was certainly a good
way to make them shut up.

She couldn't tell, though, if she was nervous or excited to be back. She
didn't necessarily leave folks on the best of terms, although she didn't
leave on the worst terms either. It was a sudden upheaval that those who
knew her likely had questions. She left no note. She was just... Gone.
Would they like her still? Would they recognize her?

"Oi! " A call from the deck startled her from her thoughts. She could feel
her face burning, not from the sun, but the embarrassment from being snuck
up on by someone while she was thinking. Shaking her head, she looked down.
It was the ship's captain. What was his name? Not that it mattered. There
were just too many to remember.

"Aye, Cap'n? "

"You said you'd work if we brought you here! You said nothing about

A smirk crossed the woman's lips, and she let go of the rigging. She fell
back... And she heard a gasp before she looked at the deck upside down, now
hanging with the ropes hooked under her knee. The captain's eyes were wide
for a second, and when he realized what was going on, he cleared his throat
and straightened his coat.

"I'll be glad to be rid of you. Nothing but a pain in my arse. Now get to

"Aye, Cap'n! I'll be out of yer hair soon 'nough. " She easily and
gracefully made her way down to the deck. She reached up and gave the
captain's cheek a couple of gentle slaps before running to the sails. She
laughed when she heard some grumbling and steps stomping off. She cast one
more glance at the docks before she pulled her black tricorn hat from her
pack. She placed it on her head and stepped up to help man the sails.

Jadelyn Darkwater was home.

Writer: Kuzzik

Date Sun Jul 15 12:16:51 2018

To All of Wargar Plike Xolthus RP Imm Kyri

Subject The first rage - part 1

Kuzzik had finally arrived at "The Mountain" he had heard tales about
growing up in the slave pits as a child and now that he was free he knew
this was where a dwarf should be. There were some dwarves passing him
heading south in a trade cart, clearing heading to Althainia. He asked
where he could find some work, he wasn't afraid of hard work and didn't want
to show up to become a citizen with no coin in pocket. The trade merchant
advised he head into the city and get some quests from Dredin on the Eastern
Guild Lane.

Kuzzik was in awe at the size of a city inside of a mountain. Something
about it being carved into a mountain made him assume it would be small, but
it's size was staggering and the work that went into making this city had to
have taken centuries. He followed the signs and made his way to the Eastern
Guild Lane as the merchant advised. He saw a sign on the southern side of
the street saying Unemployement office and figured that was the place for
him, he went ahead and headed in.

He walked into the small office to find a man sitting behind a desk with a
pile of papers on it. As he walked in the man looked up from his papers,
grumbled something and then went back to looking at the papers.

"Hail!" Said Kuzzik, "I'm looking for some work to earn some coin before I
try to become an official citizen, I've heard there is some work here in the
form of quests I was told?"

Dredin grumbles and mutters as he crumples up a piece of paper and throws it
across the room.

Dredin picks up a piece of paper and glares at it. Dredin snorts loudly and
grumbles under his breath, 'Tha bloody crown again... I know where I'd like
ta sti-.. ' Dredin abruptly silences himself and looks around quickly to
see if he was heard, before burying himself in papers once more.

Kuzzik look puzzled, as the man appeared to completely ignore he was even
there. He said again "Sir, could I please have a quest to earn some coin?"

Finally Dredin simply said aloud that a blue diamond shard had been stolen
and needed recovered from the Sunken Junk. He had never heard of this place
before and asked where it was. Dredin had no response. Very well Kuzzik
thought, I'll figure this out, surely there is library nearby or people or
something that will have the information I need to at least get me pointed
in the right direction.

--Two days later--

Kuzzik was beat, he drug himself into Dredin's office looking like he had
just been beaten in the streets and left for dead and had a seriously
depressed look on his face, but a blue diamond shard in hand.

Kuzzik placed the blue diamond shard on the desk and said, "quest

Dredin took the shard and made a note in his book, putting gold on the table
and said "107 gold, 117 quest points".

Kuzzik seemed to brighten up at the pile of coins and earning some points.
He looked at Dredin and said "Can I get another quest, maybe something a
little easier this time?"

Dredin responded "You must wait a few minutes".

It didn't seem to make much sense to Kuzzik, but process was process, so he
sat down in a chair in the room and waited a few minutes as he was releaved
to just sit down for a few minutes.

-Concluded in part 2-

Writer: Kuzzik

Date Sun Jul 15 12:38:34 2018

To All of Wargar Plike Xolthus RP Imm Kyri

Subject The first rage - part 2

Dredin shuffled a few papers and grumbles.

Kuzzik looked over and wondered if enough time had gone by to where he could
take another quest yet. He asked Dredin "Can I have another quest now?"

Dredin said aloud again, same as before only this time it was a painting of
a puppy that needed gotten from the Sunken Junk.

Kuzzik's heart sank, the last time was such a chore, he looked at Dredin and
said can I get a different quest or am I stuck with that one now?

Dredin responded, "you may cancel this quest, but you will lose 20 of your

Kuzzik had just gotten over 100 from the first quest, so what was losing 20
to safe himself a lot of time to hopefully get an easier quest this time.
He smiled and said "I would like to cancel that quest and have another

Dredin nodded and said "I need you to get the crown jewels they are in the
Sunken Junk."

Kuzzik responded, "No, I just cancelled a quest just like that one, I don't
want to go back to the sunken junk, it was terrible."

Dredin said nothing

Kuzzik sighed "Alright, I'll lose another 20 points, cancel that quest and
give me another."

Dredin then responded "A painting of a puppy needs retrieved from the Sunken

Kuzzik grumbled, "No, I just cancelled that quest the time before this one.
I'm not going back to the Sunken Junk."

Kuzzik said once again "Cancel that quest and give me another."

Dredin responded "A blue diamond shard needs retrieved from the Sunken

Kuzzik was clearly getting annoyed he quick let out a "No!" And continued
"I just got back from that hell hole with a blue diamond shard and there
were no other ones there."

Kuzzik continued "I had to take a boat that only leaves once a damn day from
the port and then takes forever to sail to some land off in the middle of no
where." , "Then I had to swim offshore to get into this place, but while I
was swimming some damn random sea dragon attacked me and I wouldn't get away
from it and I had to either recall back to Thaxanos or drown in the ocean."
He said. He continued "So then I had to go back to the port, where I just
missed the boat so I had to wait an entire day for it to come back and then
said back to Shokono, just to swim out in the ocean again and hope a random
sea dragon doesn't attack me so I can get into this stupid Sunken Junk, then
I forgot to bring a water breathing potion so I almost drowned to death
getting the blue diamond shard and recalling right before I was going to

Kuzzik was clearly annoyed at this point and said sharply to Dredin "I'm not
going back! No more quests to the Sunken Junk, you hear me!"

Kuzzik then tried to calm himself down and said plainly "I'd like another
question please."

Dredin did not look up from his papers sand simply said "A royal sceptre
needs retreived from the Sunken Junk."

Kuzzik immediately snapped back "No! I said no no more sunken junk, you can
just forget it!" "Give me another quest somewhere else!" He demanded.

Dredin did not look up from his papers and simply said "A blue diamond shard
needs retrieved from the Su"

he was unable to finish the words before Kuzzik stood up and slammed his
fist down on the desk "NO!" He shouted, "No more sunken junk, you try to
give me one more damn quest there and the next questmaster is going to be
sending people there to retrieve pieces of your ass!" Kuzzik said with a
snarling tone.

Kuzzik demanded "Cancel that quest give me another!"

Dredin did not appear phased and he calmed said "A painting of a puppy needs
retrieved from the Sunken Junk."

Kuzzik stared at Dredin, his right eye slightly twitching.

At this moment something inside Kuzzik simply snapped, he looked directly at
Dredin and screamed as if his very life depended on this one shout. At this
moment Thaxanos peacekeepers in the street heard the scream and began to
make their way into the small office.

-concluded for real in part 3-

Writer: Kuzzik

Date Sun Jul 15 13:02:27 2018

To All of Wargar Plike Xolthus RP Imm Kyri

Subject The first rage - part 3

They entered to find Kuzzik standing on the desk, kicking the papers all
over the room and pulling a dagger out of his boot and moving towards Dredin
with it and screaming "I'll kill you, you son of an elf! You're a dead

The Thaxanos peacekeepers rushed to desk and one grabbed Kuzzik off the desk
and slammed him down to the ground. Two others tried to hold him to the
ground, but Kuzzik was like he was possessed. Kicking and biting at the
guards, Kuzzik was not going down without a fight.

Another guard came into the office and tried to help the other three guards
subdue Kuzzik. While attempting to restrain him on the ground one of the
guards accidently or not made a very clear shot right at the "goods". It
was at this point where Kuzzik stopped remembering what happened and simply
blacked out as far as he could recall.

He woke up in a cell to a bucket of water being dumped on him some time
later. The guards clearly not very happy with him. They told him to get up
and get the hell out and he's lucky he's new to the city or he would have
had a lot worse done to him.

Kuzzik gathered his belongings on a table outside the cell and slowly began
to walk out of the officer station, he was hurting pretty bad but couldn't
remember from what. As he was about to walk out one of the guards called
out to him.

"No so fast, tough guy." The guard said, you need to sign for your
equipment release and to your list of offenses.

Kuzzik limped back over to the desk and made his mark on the paper, he was
given another piece of paper with his list of offenses and walked out of the

-Threatening a public official
-Destroying public documents
-Brandishing a weapon at a public official
-Resisting arrest
-Biting public defenders
-Headbutting public defenders
-Groin-biting public defenders

The list seemed to go on and on, but he didn't remember any of it. "Atleast I got
off with a warning this first time it seems, I don't even remember drinking
anything yet." he said as he shruged.

He looked and there was another piece of paper under the list of charges.

He flipped the list of charges and read the paper in back it was from Dredin
and just said "You have run out of time for your quest!" It was starting to
come back. Kuzzik crumbled the piece of paper in his fist, clenched his teeth
and squinted his eyes.

Writer: Shilo

Date Tue Jul 17 12:07:06 2018

To All Althainia Abaddon Annabel ( IMM RP Taliena )

Subject Spilled Milk (Vampire Chronicles)

The shop swam in the ariel's vision, the floor tilting dangerously as the
winged girl fell to the floor with a thumb. Vaguely, she could hear
Annabel's shouts of concern, but they seemed distant - far away. All too
late, she realized what was happening.

The Althainian castle's room of rest swam before her eyes, blood splattered
everywhere with haphazard care. Feathers of purple and orange littered the
room, some turned crimson with the blood they floated on. The cries of the
castle guards were distant, sounding like another voice - one she could not
place. She knew what lay behind her. What gruesome sight the beast had
chosen to force upon her, this time. She didn't want to turn around.
Didn't want to see what waited for her.

'V-V-Vampire... ' Shilo managed, fumbling through her bags. She was aware,
vaguely, of arms around her, supporting her - stopping her from falling to
the floor as she dug desperately for a weapon. '... V-V-Vampire... '

Weapon. She could feel it in her hand. A dagger. She knew whose blood
dripped from it - knew it in a way that made her feel sick and disheartened.
The guards were still shouting. Searching... For her? They would find
her, yes, they would find her and the terrible thing she had done. She was
going to lose her home. She had already lost it. Had killed it. Slowly,
against her will, she turned.

The first sting of pain was an agony, wrenching her from those bloodied
halls and back to the relatively clean shop. The second was bliss; a
wretching, searing pain to burn away the horrors of that room, of that
beautiful face so terribly ruined.

'Shilo! Shilo! ' that voice again. Annabel. Right. She had been out
shopping, in Shokono.

The ariel turned her head upwards, offering the other girl a weak smile,
dimly aware of the bleeding from her wrist, from the bandages shredded and
broken - much like the wrist beneath.

'I, umm... ' she manages, voice soft and trembling, '... I'm sorry. '

Writer: Nehtur

Date Tue Jul 17 21:41:10 2018

Writer: Othos

Date Wed Jul 18 08:05:40 2018

Writer: Othos

Date Wed Jul 18 08:14:25 2018

Writer: Othos

Date Wed Jul 18 08:28:14 2018

Writer: Othos

Date Wed Jul 18 08:36:58 2018

Writer: Othos

Date Wed Jul 18 09:52:00 2018

Writer: Othos

Date Wed Jul 18 10:02:59 2018

Writer: Othos

Date Wed Jul 18 10:36:17 2018

Writer: Othos

Date Wed Jul 18 10:39:39 2018

Writer: Nehtur

Date Thu Jul 19 20:33:46 2018

Writer: Nehtur

Date Fri Jul 20 19:19:29 2018

Writer: Nehtur

Date Fri Jul 20 19:19:32 2018

Writer: Nehtur

Date Fri Jul 20 19:19:35 2018

Writer: Dxutim

Date Mon Jul 23 16:36:41 2018

To All Conclave Black_Robes Verminasia Bloodlust Shadow Abaddon Drakkara Imm ( RP Kyri Immortal )

Subject Contemplations of the dark variety

Snow fell silently upon the floor of the arena. The yard lines of the
Capture the Flag field had faded and the uncovered visitors seats had long
since disappeared beneath the snow. The massive iron gates of the Coliseum
had been closed for some time, restricting the movements of the Minotaur
citizens of Ganth to the hallways of the Kingdom walls outside.

Only a single set of footprints in the snow made it past the gates, beside
some already buried prints from weeks ago. The sound of running water
echoed in the circular Atrium within the granite walls of the arena, somehow
unfrozen by the frigid temperatures of the Icewall continent, the water
surrounded the pentagram pedestal in the middle of the Atrium. The
footprints made their way past the beautiful statue of the Mistress of
Midnight and up a set of stairs.

From the Office suite, the view extended over the entire Minotaur Kingdom,
from the Great Hall of Ganth to the Imperial Palace. The two shadowy
cloaked figures stood within the Office and spoke casually as they had done
time and time before.

Dxutim spoke ominously, 'There can only be two endings. I must pray. '

The Chosen of the Drakkara looked away from the other Invoker in the room
and out onto the Coliseum he had built for his Goddess, a tribute for
returning his Horns of Power. The lightning aegis surrounding him began to
constrict tightly, causing the snow beneath his feet to melt away as his
eyes narrowed towards the sky.

Writer: Rellinath

Date Tue Jul 24 23:49:38 2018

To All althainia mercerion aliera imm rp

Subject Bandits of Althainia - Branded Mercy

Rellinath sat by the fire and finished cleaning the blood from his
blades. After having spent years risking life and limb every night fighting
the werewolves of Gathna, these bandits were both shockingly easy to track
and to defeat. Minah had led him from the Church of Nadrik, where he'd
passed the evening catching up with General Mamoritai, to the trail of a
group of thugs fresh from ransacking a supply caravan bound for one of the
outlying villages of Althainia. He'd descended on them as night fell, the
better to take advantage of his skills in stealth and catch them by complete
surprise. Most had raised their blades in challenge and fallen almost as
quickly. A few ran into the night, spitting curses, with Minah in hot

Which left only one small problem. Rell looked across to the other side of
the campfire, where the last remaining bandit of the group sat with his arms
bound behind his back. This one had responded to Rell's sudden assault on
their group by throwing down his sword and begging for mercy. Rell studied
the man's face for a few moments before speaking.

"I will grant your plea for mercy, but there will be conditions. You will
give up banditry and repent your sins against the people of Althainia. You
will accompany me to the village that the supplies your group ransacked were
intended for and offer your services to the villagers in compensation for
their losses. And you will remain there until such time as the village
elder deems your debt repaid. Longer, I pray, for my hope for you is that
living among them in peace will teach you a better way of life. Do we have
an agreement? "

The bandit nodded his head, shaggy black hair waving somewhat wildly with
the motion. Rell returned the nod. "One more thing, then. '

Rell reached down to retrieve something from the campfire, and the bandit's
eyes narrowed as he tried to make out what it was. They then widened in
shock as recognition set in... Branding irons. He looked up at Rell in
sudden fear, to which Rell simply shrugged.

"It seems a bit cruel... But far less so than taking your hand, and far
easier to explain to onlookers. This marks you in a way that only those who
know will recognize. And a small bit of pain is nothing in comparison to
the suffering you'd have put the village through had I not found you. ".

Rell approached the bandit and offered him a piece of rawhide to bite down

"This will hurt, but on my honor, not for long. "

Writer: Rellinath

Date Tue Jul 24 23:58:29 2018

To All althainia mercerion aliera imm rp

Subject Bandits of Althainia - Unsurprising, But Disappointing

Afterwards, Rell had cut the bandit's bindings and given him a bottle of
a yellowish concoction, which he explained was a healing ointment that would
stop the pain of the brand without removing the mark. It worked suprisingly
well... The bandit scratched at his chest, where he now bore a small brand
of a panther's pawprint with a coin purse in the center of the largest pad,
about the size of his thumbnail overall. True to the ranger's word, it
didn't hurt anymore at all, it just sort of itched, and the mark was
unobtrusive enough that he'd be able to explain it away easily to anyone who
didn't already know what it meant. He was curious, though, as to why
Rellinath had removed his bonds.

"You still wear a bond, but this one is only as strong as your conviction, "
Rell explained to the bandit. "If you truly wish to leave behind the life
of crime you lead and make a peaceful, prosperous life for yourself, then
the bond will hold and we will arrive at the village sometime tomorrow. If
not... "

Rell shrugged, leaving the last sentence unspoken, and tossed a bundled
bedroll over to the bandit before turning over on his own and laying down in
front of the fire.

"Sleep well. I warn you, though, do not approach me during the night. I
sleep lightly, and my shadow sleeps not at all. " A low growl issued from
the canopy overhead, and the bandit caught his meaning well enough. He laid
down on his own bedroll, and the two went to sleep.


Rell awoke to the sound of shuffling from the bandit's bedroll. He cracked
an eyelid a fraction, just enough to see the bandit slipping away from the
camp and escaping into the night. A questioning growl came from overhead,
and Rell shook his head, sighing lightly to himself.

"No. Do not chase him. I granted mercy, and until he proves unworthy of
it, he shall have it. Perhaps he simply fears retribution from the village.
So long as we do not cross paths again, I wish him well. "

Rell laid back down to return to his sleep. He was disappointed, but hardly

Writer: Sierus

Date Sat Jul 28 12:03:42 2018

To Arkane All ( Cayenna Imm RP )

Subject Season of Strife

The early morning rains having subsided a few hours before to regroup and
gather strength for the resumption sure to come late in the afternoon, a
humid mist had formed and crept it's way slowly from the Kurotaka Hills to
fan out over the low meadow which had been the scene of carnage for as long
as anyone could remember. With the cessation of the rainy season came the
yearly skirmishes and raids of little official consequence yet bearing the
sentence of life or death for those striving to scratch existence from the
northern province of Dojia. The fates of those simple folk had become the
concerns of the two men gazing out over the landscape from the edge of the
Osaka Woods, one filled with the weight of tradition and the necessity of
enduring the inevitable, the other filled with the ruthless application of
any and All means to effect a desired outcome and move forward. The
differences in outlook mirrored the difference in appearances between the
two. The first of medium height, though that was considered large among the
locals, and with the stocky build and bowed legs of a born and bred
horseman. The second, a head taller and built with the lean wolfishness and
long legs adept at moving over broken ground and choked trails. "I can see
why it is always here... The break between the hills and woods providing
the ground for you to use your cavalry best. It is the obvious place.. For
you and them both. Equally obvious is the pointless nature of it.. A
regular irritation by the shokonese, a rash that never breaks the skin. We
can change that, Kaito.. Why should Dojia and these people endure it for
Tama's aims?"
, The taller said breaking the silent contemplation.

A grunt in reply and slow nod from the shorter man heralded the moment of
decision. "This is so. Tama still holds influence though, he will not
support such change or any threat to his expected revenues from the usual
hostage taking. Your involvement only adds to his argument with your
influence, Gaijin."
, Replied Chief Kaito, nominal emperor of Dojia though
he shied from the title in deference to his mother and recently departed
father. "... But, you are correct, though I am concerned of what further
change this will bring upon Dojia."
He finished after a committal grunt.
"Change finds us in any case, and fearing it does not serve our Lord..
Effecting it in His name will."
The taller replied, "We will not shoo this
pest as Tama seems content to allow. We will serve them a blow of such
power their emperor will suck the silken pillow of his throne into his rear
upon hearing of it."
The shorter man blinked at hearing this and finally
barked a deep, rumbling laugh as the image settled in his mind. Growing
silent a moment as he gazed again across the fields, the chief replied in a
hiss of conviction "Make it so then, Gaijin.. You have my blessing and
command to make the preparations. I will prepare the council of lords to
receive my command and set the levy. The wind shall blow from a new
direction this season.."

Writer: Cassian

Date Sat Jul 28 15:36:10 2018

Writer: Cassian

Date Sat Jul 28 15:37:00 2018

Writer: Cassian

Date Sat Jul 28 15:37:14 2018

Writer: Cassian

Date Sat Jul 28 15:37:17 2018

Writer: Drogin

Date Sat Jul 28 15:50:06 2018

Writer: Sierus

Date Sat Jul 28 20:55:43 2018

Writer: Crelius

Date Mon Jul 30 16:58:02 2018

To All Shadow Necrucifer Imm (RP)

Subject The Last Descent

Harrowing it was to the man whom stood before the ledge. The winds that
once blew with no soul were absent. Forever he had felt them, guarded them,
wielded them. Now nothing. The fiery floes of the chamber had
extinguished. No more were the volcanic veins of his master leading the
path through the sacred threshold. All that seemed left, was nothing. The
Reliquary, fell silent.

Crelius turned to regard the two men behind his footing. Sconces were put
in place where they should have never been. He squinted slightly through
his hood at their silhouettes.

The three knights had convened not by the calling of missive or notice.
They converged in this single place out of necessity and a more clarion
call. The triad of elder Sanctum Knights gathered in this secret place in
response to dire necessity. A contingency heard and put in place decades
ago. Only for the most dire of circumstances.

"We cannot let McCord step forth, we All know this," spoke Sir Zorreau. De
La Vega appeared strong as ever through the torch-light. However, a tinge
of gray shocked his stubble and hair. Black circles surrounded his eyes.
His gait remained that as the soldier and warrior he ever was. Bearing his
renowned stature still, that of an imposing legend in his own right. He had
begun to bear the trials of time.

"Indeed, it would be too much to risk the life of the Dark Lord in these
times," Crelius pursed his lips, removing his hood.

The three paused, a foreboding silence cast about the chamber.

"We know who must go forth then," Atennim nodded, removing a tattered
periapt from the folds of his robes.

Crelius looked towards the third man in the chamber. His visage remained
cloaked in shadow despite the sconce light. What could be seen was the
trace of his armor and the straight black hair he always knew him for. A
glint of azure light flashed within his eyes as Crelius regarded him.

"What of the King-Priest?" Asked De La Vega.

"I believe the time for talk with kings and priests and dragons is over.
This is in our hands now," Replied Crelius.

Reklah nodded.

"In history we've taught the knights of the Sanctum to bring a likeness of
their humanity with them upon the pilgrimage," Crelius spoke as he looked
down into his hand at the bauble within.

Atennim tossed the periapt towards Sir Kayen whom caught it deftly. Crelius
nodded towards Reklah, whom returned the nod, his eyes alit with cold fire.

"This time I will bring no likeness. I will be consumed. This is the last
time I will speak to the two of you," Crelius spoke.

The elder Sanctum Knights nodded.

"Seal the Reliquary behind me. None must ever set foot or learn of this
place again." Atennim spoke.

At that gesture Reklah nodded. Azure-electric light flickering in his eyes
once again as the chamber began to shake.

"For the Prophecy, comrades." Spoke Crelius as he offered a salute to his
brothers. He clenched his jaw and walked past the two knights towards the
edge of the void.

"The Black Winds blow with no soul, I will find him," Atennim intoned. "You
will feel them again."

And he let himself fall.

Writer: Kalinath

Date Mon Jul 30 22:11:25 2018

To All Shalonesti (Imm RP)

Subject Night Watch

Kalinath lay awake on a pad of willow fronds and waited for sleep to take
him. His tired eyes slowly opened to gaze upon the night sky that sparkled
with myriad stars that shone beyond the canopy of the mighty Vallenwoods
that stood ever watchful above him.

His attention was drawn to a void of space among the constellations, that
marked the location of an heavenly body. An orb that could only be truly
seen by some mortals, but that revealed itself to All others by the ominous
absence it created. His thoughts darkened as he contemplated this patch of
darkness, and he faintly heard the nightsounds of the forest began to echo
the cacophony of battle.

Decades of practiced meditative technique did little to allay the tumult of
his spirit; an unwelcome disharmony with the still night air that lay upon
the Sacred Grove.

Rising to a seated position, with the remembered deathscream of a dragon in
his ears, Kalinath looked out at his beloved home with an outward appearance
of calm. Standing with a sigh of resignation he decided he would volunteer
to relieve a member of the night watch.

A sleepless night was only another opportunity to enjoy the intricate beauty
of Her magnificent Kingdom. To stand vigil over a land that he had sworn to
protect, and to do service for a people that remained stalwart beneath the
inky shadow of that invisible moon.

Writer: Ezek

Date Mon Jul 30 23:25:54 2018

To Shadow Verminasia All Imm

Subject The Search

Ezek dropped the dusty tomes onto the ancient slab of marble before him,
muttering All the while. 'We should also be prepared to devise a way of
harnessing, storing, and projecting mass amounts of energy.
' The words
bounced around his head, jostling with questions of portals, energy and
artifacts. A portal and a tower. Questions of vengeance and retribution.
A portal and a tower. Questions of vengeance and retribution. Keeping
focus became harder as the tomes from the ancient shelves piled up on the
floor, useless.

As he carefully turned the velum pages, he eyes were drawn to the
scribblings and notes of ancient historians. They were maddening, the blind
guess work of unsettled minds.

But as he worked he kept notes of his own. Portals and energy, moons and
planes. Spirits and legend. That which was foretold was not yet
impossible, and the work would only end with the Return.

As the moons moved across the sky, he added more stones to his list to turn
before returning home.

Writer: Rasavadi

Date Tue Jul 31 17:46:06 2018

Writer: Fredrik

Date Tue Jul 31 22:15:19 2018

To All Arkane Vershae Religion Kwainin RP Imm

Subject Seeking the Path

Fredrik sat in the highest room of the Azure Tower of Arkane, unsure what
he was actually doing. Hunger gnawed at his belly. Just a few weeks ago he
had been so sure of his path, to enter Priesthood in service of Kwainin, but
now things had become so unclear. Haunting visions of a coyote, cryptic
conversations with Vershae, an enigma in themself, and talk of spirits all
had Fredrik very confused. Was he being played a fool? Who could he trust?
Most of All though, a burning curiosity of the spirits and their realm...

Fredrik recited part of the first Tenet of Kwainin again: "In Balance, you
must look further than your senses to surpass illusion and trickery. "

His stomach groaned again. What better way to learn of these spirits than
direct experience? But the old shaman in the woods was reluctant to teach,
Fredrik needed something to prove he was serious and capable. But how?

All he needed to see the spirit realm was to die, Vershae said. Or was he
joking? Death seemed extreme, but maybe if he came close. Fredrik had read
accounts of Priests undergoing extreme fasts to seek greater proximity to
the divine, and Fastia's writings mentioned starvation specifically. Maybe
Fredrik could hit two birds, or at least have better odds at getting one.

"In Balance, you must look further than your senses to surpass illusion and
trickery. " Fredrik mumbled again softly, closing his eyes and trying to
focus on that one thought. Hunger was helping him focus, on pain at least.

When Fredrik opened his eyes it was dark in the tower. Had he fallen
asleep? If so, he was still very tired. A chill breeze blew in from the
window, and he got up reflexively to close it. Fredrik froze, and through
the wispy dark saw the great grey owl that was perched in the window. His
gaze locked with with vibrant yellow eyes. It was beautiful, the whites and
blacks almost shifting into subtle grays even as he stared at the creature.

"Much to learn... " the thought floated through his mind, or had he heard?
Fredrik moved to kneel before the magnificent creature, but fatigue took
over and brought him to the floor much faster than he anticipated. When he
awoke, the daylight was shining again, and the owl was gone.

Fredrik picked himself up, stumbling down the Tower and out to the street,
heading to Grayclaw's for some much needed food. He would now have much to
discuss with that old shaman, now. He finished the first Tenet with a grin,
"Change comes in many forms, though balance is maintained. "

Writer: Arreana

Date Wed Aug 1 10:08:06 2018

Writer: Sierus

Date Wed Aug 1 18:42:42 2018

To Arkane All ( Cayenna Imm RP )

Subject {pCher{pry Blo{pssu{pm Ramparts

Standing atop the earthworks the Lord of the Northern Province surveyed
the preparations, running through the plans and tasks yet to complete over
and over in his mind. Very little remained to be done, but it had long been
habit to check and recheck to ensure All was as it should be. Granted there
were still variables that could affect the outcome and unfolding of the plan
but that was unavoidable when the involvement of so many people was
necessary. Rolling the dice was no longer a choice, it was an unavoidable
fact. The faint call of a horn and rising commotion among the workers who
gazed to the south, heralded the awaited forces that would be fielded to
flesh out this act of resistance. Long lines of horsemen amid a panopoly of
multi-colored flags emerged in groups trailed by footmen and retainers of
the various lords heeding Emperor Kaito's call. Scanning the numbers
brought a sigh, never enough to feel comfortable but the call up had been a
rushed affair. A few hundred horsemen and another hundred afoot seemed a
meager amount, but Dojia prided itself on the quality and ferocity of it's
cavalry. The proof or lie of that would become evident in the days to come.

Heading up a much larger group the Emperor himself rode proudly to the bows
and then cheering of the people, the message was clear that when his people
were threatened Kaito would be there to defend or die on their behalf and
they loved him for it. Imperial footmen marched in glittering precision
calling out the step in unision and the crash of equipment punctuating each
step. Drawing his attention away from the infantry was a ragtag band
following behind. Uncoordinated mobs of what appeared common folk numbering
nearly a thousand or more, most bearing sticks to which twigs of cherry
blossoms were affixed. He studied the excited scampering and milling of the
crowd with confusion till Kaito arrived at last to receive greetings from
him and his brother Itsuki. Formalities exchanged, he simply raised a
questioning eyebrow at Kaito as he gestured towards the mob. "Ahhh! You
noticed them did you?"
Kaito aid with a chuckle, "They too heard the
call.. And rally to defend the lands of their Spirit Princess. Can you use
them or do you think you could send them away?"
Considering them a moment
the young lord shook his head in resignation and getured at his foreman,
"Round them up and assign them in groups with our people. Arm them as well
as can be found and make sure they understand they move and do as our people
say if they wish to see the dawn again."
The foreman nodded assent and
quickly set about his task as Kaito exchanged pleasantries with his younger
brother. Kaito then turned and said "All are assembled then, I will inform
my lords not to settle and make our way to the rally point as planned if
your guides are ready."
A nod of agreement was followed by the simple
statement "We are All ready.. Except Itsuki here who was just leaving with
his portion for the wood."

Itsuki nodded confidently and clasped arms with his taller brother-in-law
and mentor before gathering him into a hug that left the pair chuckling with
embarassment and parting with a wave. For Itsuki this would be his test, he
had been given charge of All those schooled in the barabarian lord's
skirmishing techniques. Methods honed in the swamps of Abaddon to harass
and terrify the might of an Empire. In his heart he knew he would rather
die than fail the trust that had been freely offered to him. "Alright, you
know your places and what to do. You have All worked and trained hard to
change your world and I am proud and honored to stand here with All of you
and your people. Here, together, we will unveil this new world to the
Shokonese and they will tremble at the realization of what has been
unleashed. You stand deathground now, from here there is no retreat, no
hope of surrender, and Fatale smiles approvingly upon you for you shall send
the best of Shokono to crowd His Door."
He intoned clearly and met the
gaze of both brothers before offering a salute in farewell.

Writer: Sierus

Date Wed Aug 1 19:17:47 2018

Writer: Tarkan

Date Sat Aug 4 09:03:26 2018

To All Shokono Arkane Kingdom RP

Subject Dust to Dust - Part I

The home was derelict and had fallen to disrepair. Though the family was
killed and the estate was returned to the Shokonese municipality, no one had
been tending to the property that once belonged to Tomoko's family. The
blood stains were otherwise cleaned. Perhaps no one moved in due to the
fear of haunting? Tarkan knew that the people of Shokono were
superstitious, so it made sense. As he made his way past the dead hearth
and towards the back door facing the orchard, his sense of smell indicated
that the place had been abandoned completely and devoid of All but the
occasional mouse.

Into the orchard, the Yinn ventured. A Shokonese paper seal ornament was
wrapped around the tree that Tomoko was found dead against. Tarkan pressed
a hand on the trunk and took a moment of silence.

"Come here to join her, have you? It's appropriate that you die here!"
Said a familiar voice from behind Tarkan.

Tarkan was filled with a rage at the sound of that voice. He turned about
abruptly, brandishing his work knife and dropping into a stance to face the
direction of the voice. Nothing. Smelling the air, he knew that Kenji was
close. "That same trick won't succeed twice, degenerate," Tarkan growled
before chanting, "Oculoinfra Uizug! "

The skills and spells he learned since his last trip to Shokono were taking
effect. The telltale tingle of his eyes made him see the world in a bit of
a slight haze, but up in the tree opposite himself was Kenji, nested within
the branches. A kunai flew from Kenji's hand, but Tarkan was able to
finally track the hand that was throwing it, and, pulling out his work
knife, timed his strike to knock the kunai into the air. "So!" Exclaimed
Kenji, "You've finally learned a trick or two yourself! Then teasing you to
your death won't do anymore!"

Tarkan barked out to Kenji, "You're a coward of the worst kind. You kill
out of jealousy, then you won't even face me yourself. You are weak!"
Kenji gritted his teeth and dropped from the tree. As he hit the ground, he
sprung forward to charge at the Yinn. Before the clash of kunai-to-work
knife, Kenji threw a vanishing bomb at Tarkan's feet, exploding with a cloud
of smoke and dust. Tarkan nearly sneezed. The dust masked Kenji's smell.

Writer: Tarkan

Date Sat Aug 4 09:07:46 2018

To All Shokono Arkane Kingdom RP

Subject Dust to Dust - Part II

The clang of metal on metal filled the air in rapid successions as
strikes from either adversary were met with parries. All the while, Tarkan
slowly felt his rage rising. With every blow he attempted to connect his
knife to Kenji's throat, he remembered the feeling of loss when he
discovered Tomoko's lifeless body. He remembered the warmth of the pellar's
hospitality. He remembered the nights he and Tomoko shared together. He
remembered the kiss he stole when the wind nestled him and Tomoko together.
Every memory only served to harden his blows against Kenji, causing his foe
to stagger with every blow.

As the final stagger created an opening for a strike, Tarkan channeled his
rage. "Mosailla Paieg!" Tarkan barked out. A flame enveloped Tarkan's
fist, and while he parried with Kenji's kunai, connected the knuckles of his
off-hand with Kenji's jaw. A loud crack came from the connection, followed
by a sizzle of singed flesh. "That's for the Pellar! Mosailla Paieg!"
Taking advantage of the momentum, Tarkan spun, a flame engulfing his leg,
and thrust his foot upward into Kenji, knocking him high into the air due to
the Yinn's superior physique. As Kenji launched into the air, Tarkan cried
out, "For the Pellar's wife!" Kenji twisted his body in the air, and
started to fall with his kunai aimed squarely for Tarkan's head. "Now you
die, Oukamijin!" Kenji huffed out, winded from the kick as he fell quickly
towards Tarkan.


Another flame engulfed Tarkan's hand once more, and with a swinging
uppercut, connected his fist with Kenji's plexus as Kenji fell into it, with
Tarkan's face only a hair's width away from the Kunai's edge. The rage
channeled into the magic flared up, sending an emission of magic flame to
penetrate through Kenji's body. "And that... Is for Tomoko! "

Writer: Tarkan

Date Sat Aug 4 09:11:01 2018

To All Shokono Arkane Kingdom RP

Subject Dust to Dust - Epilogue

Carrying the simple urn, Tarkan stepped off the carriage that took him
from the port to Arkane. Holding the urn under his arm he said, "We're
here..." Passing the gate, the guards saluted the Sentry. "As you were,
men." Tarkan uttered. Noticing the urn being carried, one gate guard stood
alongside Tarkan, marching as a funeral escort. As Tarkan progressed
through the streets, more guards began to march with the Yinn, creating a
procession of sorts.

Reaching the base of the tower of Arkane, Tarkan turned to the guards that
escorted him. "I'll take it from here, men. Go back to your posts." The
guards saluted Tarkan, and dispersed. The Yinn turned to climb the tower.
As he made his way up the stairs, Tarkan whispered to the urn, "This is the
great tower of Arkane. Many wizards have studied here. "

Tarkan made his way to the east window of the library in the tower, carrying
the urn with one arm and reaching out to open the window with the other. A
small creak of un-oiled metal prompted the librarian to shush at the Yinn.
Tarkan partially sat on the windowsill, and watched the sun rise over the
distant crystal fields, creating a shimmering display of iridescence as the
horizon filled with fire.

"Welcome to Arkane, Tomoko...welcome home."

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Sun Aug 5 00:53:38 2018

Writer: Ashtiel

Date Sun Aug 5 01:00:20 2018

Writer: Pardo

Date Mon Aug 6 18:15:02 2018

Writer: Tanaal

Date Thu Aug 9 14:49:40 2018

To All Verminasia Abaddon ( Imm RP Religion )

Subject {uRude Awakening - I

Two years before the Battle of the Black Moon...

"Is this the tomb?" The bandit said to the cleric, tapping at the stone
partition with his shovel.

"You fool! Don't disturb him! The last thing we want is for him to walk
the realm again! He was bad enough when he was mortal! And keep your voice
" the cleric hissed to the bandit. The bandit simply grumbled.

The cleric placed a hand on the stone partition, and began a low chant,
starting in but a whisper. As the cleric began to chant, the bandit kept to
the cleric's flank, keeping an eye out for anyone approaching. The wind
started to howl as the cleric channeled energy through his hands. With a
paste made from limestone, chalk and salt, the cleric circumscribed the base
of the tomb with the material before coming full circle to the front stone
partition, laying his hands once more and chanting, this time a bit louder.

With a flourish of his free hand, the cleric finished his chant, and removed
his hand. A handprint of the pasty substance he left started to glow at the
palm with the symbol of Austinian before it faded away, effectively blessing
the tomb and sealing it. "It's done," said the cleric, "That demon will no
longer walk our realm. He will be trapped forever, succumbing to a hunger
that will never be sated."

Writer: Tanaal

Date Thu Aug 9 15:59:21 2018

To All Verminasia Abaddon ( Imm RP Religion )

Subject {uRude Awakening - II

Two years later...

Tanaal stirred in his slumber. Something was amiss. Opening his eyes, his
fangs extended due to the hunger of being asleep for so long. His eyes
opened, and he rose from his slab in the tomb. His fangs extended by
reflex... He needed to feed. Pressing his hand against the partition to
the entrance of the tomb, his hand started to burn and sizzle. Tanaal
howled out in pain, gripping his wrist and peeling his hand from the searing
heat of the stone partition. His hand began to heal as soon as it was
singed, but the danger still remained.

Growling, Tanaal placed his hands together and prayed for transportation out
of the tomb...


Scowling, he spoke the word of recall, tapping into what magic ability he
could muster after his long slumber.


Desperate, he knelt to the ground by the chest of his personal affects he
was buried with, and quickly pulled out his enchanted chalice. The blood
inside was stale, but it would have to do in a pinch. The taste was so
stale, it was almost putrid... But it served it's purpose, and his thirst
was slaked. For now. Retracting his fangs and regaining control, he was
finally able to concentrate on an alternate, desperate solution: A risky

Solemnly, Tanaal gathered his affects, holding them tightly, and uttered the
incantation for a teleport.


As Tanaal looked up to the sky from the placid shores of Tropica, he noted a
large scorching crater on the surface of the Black Moon...

Writer: Ashtiel
Date Fri Aug 10 01:14:21 2018

Writer: Verdig
Date Fri Aug 10 07:25:11 2018

Writer: Verdig
Date Fri Aug 10 07:25:31 2018

Writer: Sierus
Date Fri Aug 10 22:03:06 2018

To Arkane All ( Cayenna Imm RP )

Subject Dragonfly Dancing

Although the rains had delayed the intruder's passage through the hills,
reports of their approach had reached him at last. Itsuki's harassment
through the forests had gone as instructed, small stings to annoy but not
hinder the beast and Kaito awaited at the selected site to deliver the
hammer blow. Kaito rightly had the honor of punctuating the message to
Shokono, but first it fell to the folk of the North province and their
barbarian lord to pull the serpents fangs and set the tone of the message.
A message simple in it's clarity, "No more".

As the thunder of the hooves of uncounted foes neared, the young lord looked
to his archer's and noted the ready if nervous preparations as they awaited
the signal to draw first blood. As the riders entered view and angled
toward the road, and spurred to a gallop seeing no obvious resistance, the
lord raised an arm signalling his henchmen to raise their's as well.
Reaching the appointed mark at the first turn of the road, his arm dropped
and the signal was passed similarly as multitudes of bowstrings hummed
loosing a shower of arrows from behind the earthen parapets. The short
arcing flight found the orderly charge along the road, falling just behind
the lead elements and bringing an end to the tight lines as barbed points
found the flesh of men and mounts alike. The chaos caused amid the mingled
screams turned some from the road into the sodden paddies, some to stall,
and others to race to close the gap with the lead as another flight of
arrows rose to seek them once more. Each volley drove more from the road as
obstructing horses cluttered and hobbled the charge. Those choosing the
mire found the way forward more direct but drastically slower, and seeming
to be the wiser choice than stumbling along the choked road awaiting the
steady rain of arrows that plucked from their numbers.

Looking along the lines of his folk and the volunteers from the city, the
tension could be seen easily in the shifting and white-knuckled grip upon
the spears and implements they would soon be asked to bring to bear upon
their enemies. Settling his helm upon his head, the tall barbarian raised
his axes in either hand and motioned for them to mount the parapet and face
the enemy so that any fears of the unknown could be dispelled and the task
they would undertake become plain to all. As the foremost of those racing
along the road at last reached the leg-breaking trenching in the wild
screaming of horses and riders suddenly tossed from the saddle the time had
come and the axes thrust forward sending the simple folk down into the
paddies to meet death or carry it's message unto those who had come bearing
their message of contempt.

Writer: Sierus

Date Fri Aug 10 23:09:31 2018

To Arkane All ( Cayenna Imm RP )

Subject Dragonfly Dancing Pt.2

As the shokonese horsemen struggled to right themselves into some order a
ragged cry broke into the screams of wounded men and horses, a cry born from
years of pain and frustration at the incessant raiding from those who
suffered it's pains. Men and women of varying ages started the cry that the
city volunteers picked up to stir their courage as the first encounters of
lance and sword met bristling spears and simple farm implements. Death
reigned in the form of trampling hooves, lance points and slashing sabers
among the ragtag defenders, who in turn clustered to feed spears to horse
and rider alike, dragging either or both down to the mire and crude butchery
neither side had thought possible a mere few days before. Ants swarmed to
devour the larger aggressors, absorbing it's furious might under sheer
effort and numbers.

Orderly lines had disappeared into a confusing melee as archers atop the
parapet plucked at individual riders, and horsemen turned circles driving
the simple folk beneath hooves into the mire but slowly the workers began to
push back, forcing the issue onto the confused riders who sought to rally
themselves. One cluster especially continued to draw it's companions
together and began to tatter the resistance and threatened to regain the
solid ground beyond the paddies. As the numbers began to falter and the
city folk scattered, the rally could not be allowed and the moment of
committment came to the lord of the province as well. Sprinting down along
the earthworks he leapt from the top as the first horseman of a group of
nearly a dozen climbed from the paddy, sweeping the rider from his mount
with a hair-raising cry in an unearthly tenor never heard outside the swamps
of Abaddon. Landing amid the horseman he began a dance of turns and
flashing axes, stepping aside from a lance thrust to cleave an opportune
thigh, ducking a saber slash to disembowel a mount. Keening his awful song,
each movement bringing death and mayhem with what seemed a practiced
precision, he was around them, among them and through them in a gory spray.

Seeing the fury and desperate dance of their lord halted the flight of the
workers who turned and fell upon the attackers with a renewed vengeance
spitting rider and mount indecriminately, dragging them down within the mire
to stab, tear or drown their foes.

Seeing the demise of their comrades and the redoubled efforts of the
defenders broke whatever bloodlust remained in the horseman and a chaotic
retreat began in earnest. Those who dallied or faltered where caught by the
surging defenders while the fleetest began making back for the forest road
and escape, as the dismounted and wounded were systematically dispatched and
the first cries of what had become a rallying cry tore from the throats of
the unforgiving mob. "Tonbo! Tonbo! TONBO!"

Delivering one final blow to his last victim, the barabarian looked up to
see the methodical slaughter unfolding. His gore and mod covered visage
looked on approvingly as the ragged retreat disappeared into the forest and
wondered at the cries of the victors. Raising an axe and turning suddenly
at the shout behind him, he regarded the beaming face of one of his
henchmen. {"What are they saying, Ito? Ton-bo?"
He asked of the short man.
"TONBO! , Lord. Dragonfly! You are the Tonbo! You bring us fortunate
victory, Lord Tonbo!"
The man cried and turned to follow the press forward
chanting with the others. The tall barbarian considered it a moment and a
small sigh and shrug settled it. "Another name... I was just getting used
to Gaijin."
He looked to the forest once more, "It won't be a victory till
Itsuki and Kaito finish their part, but we've done ours."

Writer: Sierus

Date Sat Aug 11 10:32:32 2018

To Arkane All ( Cayenna imm RP )

Subject Death stalks Osaka

Carried upon the faint wind the distant sounds of the fight found Itsuki
and the specially trained men of the northern province awaiting their turn
to add mayhem and horror to the conflict. The pin pricks against their
enemy's earlier passage through the Osaka Woods would soon be forgotten
against the full weight of atrocities awaiting their return. The deadfalls
and weight of the true numbers hidden within the forest had remained dormant
and passively allowed the enemy through before, with only a few harassing
bow shots, cast stones and occasional snatching of riders from the columns.
Now All would be brought to bear.

The faint sounds of a chanting mob diminished quickly beneath the sounds of
oncoming horsemen in full if not panicked flight as it entered the woods,
passing under the canopy of trees along the road. Raising the bone whistle
to his lips, Itsuki gave the eerie, undulating signal that was picked up and
joined by the many within the wood and ropes were cut allowing hewn trunks
and limbs to clutter the previously unobstructed road as the first score of
riders neared the ambush. The strum of bowstrings preceded the whispering
flight of arrows which began to pluck at the numbers of the enemy as they
negotiated through and around the entangling obstructions. The increasing
volume of riders added to the confusion of the enemy, the quickest among
them realizing the impossibility of coming to grips with their antagonists
and sped on while others who delayed were subjected to logs and in some
cases the swinging bodies of their earlier comrades passing among them in
pendulum arcs across the road. Those knocked from their mounts faced the
stampeding hooves of their comrades and the dubious safety of the brush
along the road wherein Itsuki's men waited with axe and dagger. Lines
dropped from overhead to snare the unaware hold them suspended as targets
for arrows or their panicked brethren. All of this to the backdrop of
pained cries from horse and rider while the bone whistles continued the
steady undulating call as the road became more cluttered with the carnage.

In time the onrushing horsemen eschewed any delay, whether in attempt to
rescue a downed comrade or simply face the ambushers. The higher order of
self-preservation took command and more and more passed through the
abbatoire of men and beasts seeking release and the open air of the fields
to north. It was of no concern to Itsuki and his men, they had driven the
spike of fear deep into their hated enemy and stripped away what was once
considered courage among them. The majority having passed already, the
decimation of the stragglers became the focus and Itsuki allowed himself a
smile of satisfaction. They had taken the teachings and applied them with
zeal, an act not to be forgotten by the enemy... At least those who found
some way to survive the day. After all, it was a ways yet to the assumed
safety of the Kurotaka Hills.. And Kaito awaited.

Writer: Sierus

Date Sun Aug 12 16:05:47 2018

To Arkane All ( Cayenna Imm Rp )

Subject Hammer Descending

The long column of horsemen and footsoldiers had finally made it's way
free of the churned muck that had once been a road before the passage of the
shokonese raiders. Lord Tama's expected delay had been extended a bit by
the conditions to the chagrin of the armored rider atop a large charger
standing several hands higher than the dojian cavalry he accompanied with
Matsui, his aide and cousin to Kaito. As the open field came into clearer
view, Tama stopped to turn back at his unwanted liason and barked with
derision "Ha!.. You chafe at delay and yet even Kaito fails to keep his
schedule!" Gesturing with a sweep of his arm at the empty fields. Waiting
for the translation from his aide, Silas pondered the rotund and
meticulously groomed Tama and his dozen guards with quiet contempt. Heeding
his cousin's call for someone he could trust, and seeking a break from the
dull city life, Silas now wondered if killing Lord Roundbottom and his
Ladies in waiting wouldn't be a better use of his time. Sierus had filled
him in on the shifty Lord and Silas was keen to any attempted sabotage to
their plans, though he already suspected cowardice would be the likely
reason for such rather than any scheme of intellect. Looking to Matsui he
replied "Tell him Death is patient and heeds it's own schedule..." And
walked his charger forward allowing the follow ons to begin to file past.

As Tama's contingent made it's way from the cut where the road entered the
hills, just over a mile and a half across the flat fields the muffled sound
of riders slowly grew as small figures exited the forboding gloom of the
Osaka Woods in small clusters that grew in numbers, slowing to gather in
some semblance of order. Ignorant to this development Tama was engaging in
a diatribe extolling the troops on the honor and glory of serving under his
banner according to the whispered translation. Paying little attention to
the presumptuous bragging, Silas surveyed the growing numbers in the field,
as his charger met the attempt to raise a cheer with a long, loud breaking
of wind and shake of it's jingling harness. The equine's opinion brought a
grin and pat on the neck from Silas and a few stifled chuckles from the
passing footmen to Tama's obvious wounded ego. A last check to settle his
armor and shield, Silas thought back to his cousin's parting words. "You've
always known what had to be done, Silas.. When the time comes, and I trust
you will know it, you simply have to decide to see it done.." , Simple and
vague, Sierus being Sierus, aggravating as ever.

Turning at last to regard the swelling numbers, numbers now exceeding his
own, Tama shifted nervously in his saddle giving a command to his standard
bearer who held the banner aloft waving as though signalling to the
gathering force. It was then that the noise of a second group of riders
emerging from a cut to his left and forming in good order to bear down upon
the flank of the enemy force came to the Lord of Tokaido's notice, along
with the crimson and gold lion's banner of Kaito Averitt, Emperor of Dojia.
Glancing between the two groups of riders, and mindful of his own numbers,
Tama's instinct for self-preservation rose once more with the order "Prepare
to move! We go to guard the Emperor's flank!"
Taking in the enemy's
movement, the lay of the field and the pieces in play, Silas saw it clearly.
Only a moment's hesitation as Matsui translated the order occurred as Silas
knew the moment had come and he reached inside the cuff of his bracer to
raise a folded parchment bearing the imperial seal and in a tone of command
that nearly shocked him yelled "NO!"

Writer: Sierus

Date Mon Aug 13 16:56:03 2018

To Arkane All ( Cayenna Imm Rp )

Subject The Anvil Rings

The echo of the single word carried over those assembled with effect
shown in the sudden hush of the nearby soldiers, the confused looks among
the lord's guards, and stunned countenance of Lord Tama himself. The steady
blue-eyed Vai'Kel gaze fixed on Tama as Silas passed the writ to Matsui to
open and read aloud. The aide raised his voice for All to hear as he read
"It is Our Imperial pleasure and perogative that at convenience or need, the
honorable Silas Vai'Kel be recognized as Our Imperial Voice in command of
the forces of Our Loyal subjects from Tokaido until such time as Our
Imperial Will decrees otherwise. Such is Our Imperial Command and bears the
weight of law in life and death over All Our Honorable Subjects of Dojia...
Signed His Imperial Honor, Kaito Averitt, by Right Emperor of Dojia.."

Matsui held the writ aloft turning so All could recognize the imperial seal
as the Lord of Tokaido seethed and purpled in rage.

"LIES! Kill this foreign dog! Kill him now!" Tama nearly shrieked. The
bodyguard nearest Silas had only managed to draw his sword half-way before
the edge of the shield adorned with the Vai'Kel crest smashed into his face
with a sickening, jaw-shattering crunch. Silas cleared his lance from it's
socket as the charger reared and dropped bearing the levelled point into and
through the next guard as the remainder drew weapons and sought to encircle
him. Releasing the lance, his towering steed turned a circle lashing out
with it's hooves fore and aft as he drew his sword parried cuts coming in
from one side and blocked those on the other with his shield. The stark
difference in style and quality of arms became apparent quickly as the
heavily barded and hulking charger knocked aside the smaller and lighter
horses, and the heavier chain armor and wide heavy blade Silas bore shrugged
off the edge of lighter blades and his own blows rent the boiled leather and
ceramic ornamental armor of his opponents, often snapping the bones beneath.
The proof was plainly visible in the four downed riders and ineffectiveness
of those who stepped to take the place of the fallen, a sight finally
emboldening Matsui and others to engage the hated bodyguards.

Seeing the turn of fortune before him clearly, Tama turned and charged back
down the road and into the hills, his 3 remaining guards struggling to
follow while dodging the occasional spear thrust from the generally confused
follow on ranks. The remaining guards dispatched or subdued, Silas turned
his attention where it belonged and hollered out orders for Matsui to relay,
calling spear and pikemen to form a block on the road while the riders were
arrayed in lines to either side discouraging any attempts at passage up
either side of the cut. While this occurred, Kaito's charge had already hit
the enemy's flank, tearing men away as a lion's claw rend flesh from the
sides of it's prey, and had begun turning back to begin another furious
swipe as his archer's added to the mayhem in a cloud of arrows passing
overhead to disrupt and add to the carnage of the now disarrayed foe.
Kaito's next pass broke even the sense of safety in numbers and the rout
began as self-preservation became the rule. What few reached the mouth of
the hills found only more ruin, for the field belonged to Fatale, and the
ravens and Dragoth would get their fill.

Writer: Kaeira

Date Thu Aug 16 14:11:14 2018

To All Knighthood ( Imm ) Austinian

Subject Returning Home

The halls of Gareth's Keep resonated with a gentle holiness that had a way of
washing away weariness and worries. There was a definitive comfort strolling the
aged halls of stone, in knowing the history within the mortar, and in sharing a
purpose with the many others that resided within.

Strolling through the eastern halls, Kaeira's booted feet struck a rhythm of
soft familiarity. The slightly stale smell of tapestries and aged wood, over-
taken by the hint of Sir Stanley's bread that permeated everything but the oils
and incense (until you went into the stables) filled her nose, as uplifting as
anything she could imagine. Sounds she dreamed of alighted upon her ears - the
many conversations of knights, the ringing of blade against shield, horses with
sure stride over the cobbles, mantras and prayers, laughter, shouts from drill
instructors or Knights to their Pages and Squires.

She remembered it all, had missed it All with the dull ache of someone sent a
great distance from home, though she had not been far - had never gone far in a
physical sense. The misunderstanding with her paperwork had been devestating to
her. In a way, it had sapped her spirit and clouded over her dreams. For a time
she had even given in to the Sleep that often overtook the Heroes of the Realm.
Eventually, though, she had woken, and she had engaged herself with renewed and
determined purpose. With enough odd jobs, she had even secured promise of the
funds she would need to pay for new papers and rejoin the Keep, to return Home.

Only, the Lord Crown Thrakhath had beaten the payment's arrival and so she
had found herself once more in the Halls she dearly loved and treasured faster
than she could have anticipated. It had taken a few days for the jitters to go
away, which had made her exceptionally more chatty and energetic than normal,
but once she had settled back into her familiar role of enchanting and gabbing
she had found a deep comfort of the heart she had missed. It was true that she
felt she still had a great deal to learn about being a member of Gareth, but a
certain sense within her head and spirit told her she was where she was meant
to be.

Her soft footfalls ceased as she found herself in the midst of the Octagonal
Temple's great space.

Writer: Kaeira

Date Thu Aug 16 15:20:48 2018

To All Knighthood ( Imm ) Austinian

Subject Returning Home, Part Two

Gray eyes, ones that tended to express themselves by shifting from a pale hue
to shades dark like a storm-tussled sea, drifted over the many intricate and
ornamental carvings that decorated the temple. Against her chest, she hugged a
heavily inked tome - less a journal and more of a sorry mess of disjointed notes
and thoughts that happened to strike her. After a moment of searching carefully
she opened her tome, resting the spine in her palm, and began to make notes in
a quick, clear script.

While she worked, her mind divided itself between her work and recent events.

In particular, a little smile tugged at her lips while she thought of Squire
Enora Hale. She liked Enora, and felt within the woman a similar desire to do
good in the world, and the desire to leave some kind of mark with the brief, if
eventful, time that they had as humans in a realm that favored more long-lived
races. That was why she had sought out Enora's knowledge and book-loving trait
to help her sort through the dusty mysteries of the Keep and its library. They
had traded notes, swapped information, and then the hunt had continued.

The Dracon of Justice.

Kaeira wondered what it looked like. There were no drawings of it, and it
was certainly not likely to be anything she could imagine. Less likely was she
to ever enter the towers of the Conclave, where she had heard rumored that a
fragment of the Draconus still rested safely. Some of the old records stated
that more fragments had been given to the likes of Thaxanos and Storm Keep,
but who would she ask about that? Where would the answers be found?

Shaking her head, she scratched out a few jumbled lines that hadn't formed
properly before she turned the page. She rubbed her palm against the edge of
the page to smear away some ink, then went back to her work.

Of particular interest, the Keep was host to a great wealth of knowledge,
but it was scattered, disjointed, and often incomplete. What the Loremaster
Sehvelarious had probably seen as complete documents did not always make full
sense to her, because it relied on a more intimate knowledge of the world and
its history, or knowledge of other documents buried somewhere in the massive
library. Granted, the collection itself was impressive, but for those like her
it was a chore and headache to try to sort through even a little of it. She
preferred more oral traditions when it came to passing on stories. Granted, it
was probably why she had forgotten a great number of her tale repertoire, and
she briefly wondered if she could still call herself a Storyteller if that was
the case.

Writer: Kaeira

Date Thu Aug 16 15:47:24 2018

To All Knighthood ( Imm ) Austinian

Subject Returning Home, Part Three

Pausing to give her head another shake, Kaeira grinned to herself.

It likely didn't matter how many tales she still had tucked inside her noggin
so long as she still embraced the traditions of spreading them to a willing and
interested audience.

Her thoughts returning to the Dracon, she wandered out of the Octagon and to
the Museum to the west. There, she spent some time dusting off various pieces
that had gone neglected for a while. When she had cleaned off what she wanted a
good look at, she picked her notebook back up.

She wasn't sure if the Font was a replica, or the original, but the plaque on
its base left her with more questions that made her brow furrow. Thus far, all
she had managed to piece together was that the yaenni had pillaged the original
Keep, and in doing so they had stolen the Dracon of Justice. Assumption lead to
the thought that they returned to their place with it, which was called Dae'tok
if she understood properly, but... During her discussion with Enora they were
in agreement that Dae'tok no longer existed. Why? Where was it, or where had it
been, exactly? Why did it no longer exist? When it was destroyed was it looted,
or had the event been more natural in occurrence? How come the yaenni did not
re-build it if it was their homeland? More importantly to her, if the Dracon
had indeed been taken to Dae'tok, then what had become of it during Dae'tok's
destruction and subsequent fading from prominent history? Finally, why were all
of the Dracons important, and if they were so important why was there not still
an active effort to recover what had been stolen from them?

Finishing her notes, Kaeira wriggled her nose and closed her tome with her
quill tucked into the crease of the pages. She then tucked the book under her
arm, holding it in place with the support of her palm.

Though it had been a very brief meeting her mind drifted over the words that
Sir Gwaine had offered her about the divine will of the gods they served. He
had repeated more than once that it was her justly earned right to some things
and that if it was meant to be, then eventually it would come to pass. Touching
the central medallion upon her brow, the one for Austinian, she let a faint
hint of doubt come forward before shutting it back out, hard. A living legend,
a founder of the very life she was choosing to live, had offered her encourage-
ment and she was not going to ignore that.

Turning, she headed toward the War Room and took the stairs lightly to return
to the main floor. From there, she turned west and passed through the Temple of
Nadrik to reach the Chapel of Fallen Heroes.

Writer: Kaeira

Date Thu Aug 16 16:05:02 2018

To All Knighthood ( Imm ) Austinian

Subject Returning Home, Final

Entering the Chapel, Kaeira removed her faceguard and tucked it into a pocket
of her great-coat. Her steps, like All the sounds of the Keep, were muffled in
the holy space. Her heartbeat, steady and strong, echoed in her own ears as she
made her way deeper within, until she came before the ark. Reaching out, she
rested her gloved palm upon its golden surface and then turned her eyes toward
the plaque embedded within the stones.


To those who walked these halls before us, we remember.
To those who fought before us, we remember.

We remember your courage and your strength.
We remember your virtue and your honor.
We remember your faith and your loyalty.

To those who walk these halls,
To those who fight the one and only war,

To those who will walk these halls long after we are gone,

You are the Shield.
You are the Weapon.
You are the Wrath.
You are the Light.

Remember those gone before.


The message had always touched her. Whether because of Sir Draugrbane's
tale, or her own, or a blending of the two, she felt a personal responsi-
bility to do exactly as the plaque encouraged: Remember.

She was who she was because of the reflections of others that she carried
within her heart. Their words and actions echoed within her as surely as all
she had said and done with others was now a part of them. That truth was one
that could be frightening, but she knew she would strive to do her best in
making sure that All her words and actions would be positive ones, would be
a living demonstration of Austinian's light and glory. She knew, of course,
that there would be times she would fail and falter, that her inner heart's
shadows would win out over the light she would try to cultivate, but those
revelations no longer terrified her, no longer held her back.

She wondered if that was what it meant to be prepared to take the mantle
of Knight - not that she had reached a place of near-perfection, but that
she was at peace with her beliefs and herself as a person enough that she
could go forward with confidence. Would her convictions in the rightness of
her path be the Shield that she sought, and would her faith in the Goodness
of Austinian and the others that watched over Gareth become her Lance? Would
her heart, where her prayers and her lessons blended, become the Crown that
shone over All that Gareth stood for?

Well, she couldn't say for certain without the gift of foresight, but she
did know that she was Home, and that whatever happened from the on was as
it should be, just as Sir Gwaine had said.

A smile on her features, and a calmness in her spirit, Kaeira bowed her
head and left the Chapel. There was work to be done.

Writer: Nymaya

Date Thu Aug 16 23:35:36 2018

To All Shadow Eclipse Verminasia Necrucifer (RP)

Subject The Fracture

Days and nights passed with a surreal flow of time.

She had never felt it quite like this before. In Shalonesti, time had all
but stood still for her and many others. Change was typically slow to
occur. Outside of the Vallenwood, she had had to immerse herself in the
faster pace of the many short-lived races and most of the elves she
encountered had also adopted this general mindset and mannerism.

On this, she found herself drawn to spend vast amounts of time in
contemplative quiet. Days would pass in the quiescence of a shrine, in the
empty shadow of a temple alcove. Weariness didn't matter, sleep offered no
comfort and her prayers fell into the vast pit where once His presence had
been strong and undeniable.

Conversely, there were days where she felt the passing of every minute.
Pacing in the War Room like a caged beast, watching the slant of the sun's
light inching across the floor, engulfed in a silence born of fury and

The pitfalls in her mind yawned wide and she knew she had withdrawn in lieu
of too much. Too much time. Too many questions and a cup that overflowed
with varying amounts of fury and a transcendent hatred.

She'd witnessed enough history, knew enough about the mannerisms of people
and even Gods, to feel a certainty she firmly wished she didn't.

'If this is to be our end, then so be it. I will die as I have lived.'

Anger tightened her jaw as she revisited the conversation, set her nerves on
edge, even as understanding fed her despair and resolve.

'I suppose that is the best we can ask for. There'll be no reward for our
dedication and faith.'

'There will not be. Vengeance and retribution will have to suffice.'

She hadn't lived, not in a long time. Grasping to that had been like
learning to walk and then run again after a long, debilitating illness that
saps even color from the vision. She'd been existing in the grip of
vengefulness and betrayal already. Retribution had been a long and empty
dream for her thus far.

What had been taken, truly destroyed in the aftermath of the Black Moon,
was trust. Not just hope, not just a greater cause and a vision that had
been worth everything, but the trust of an entire following. That sort of
wound was unlikely to ever heal and no matter what happened from here on
out, nothing would ever be the same.

What she could foresee, what the patterns of the past suggested...

She shook her head, ran her hand over her face and back through her hair in
a gesture of utmost frustration before lifting her gaze toward the azure
desert sky. What she could foresee was not just change but an end, wrapped
in flames.

She had a feeling that their enemies were going to learn what true
desperation looked like.

Writer: Nymaya

Date Fri Aug 17 09:06:36 2018

To All (RP)

Subject Simple Comforts

The liquid was a rich amber, glimmering softly in the low warm light of a
long standing hearth.

It wasn't the high standard whiskey she had gotten used to in the lap of
'Kayen luxury' but it worked just the same. Her fingertips grazed the edges
of the low glass, turning it slowly while she watched the movement of the
liquid within. It was not a typical past-time for her, drinking had been
reserved for certain guests and visits, but during the rampage of the
Aspects she had found herself turning to it more often than usual.

She silently scoffed at those memories and lifted the glass, to take a slow
sip while her dark blue gaze roamed through the mostly empty tavern. The
hour was late, the desert's evening chill had settled in deep and the few
other patrons were huddled around their mugs at lonely tables.

The barkeep moved slowly, keeping half an eye to the establishment. She
knew him and had been remembered in turn. The Wali of New Thalos. She
closed her eyes on that memory while the glass touched to the table top with
a soft *clink*.

She had sunken into her booth seat, her legs stretched out, ankles crossed
under the table. There was simple enjoyment in the crackle of the hearth
fire, in the feel of the smooth glass beneath her fingers and the warmth of
the room. She was not expecting the presence that slid into the booth on
the other side of the table but opened her eyes, nonetheless, and found
herself gazing at the shadows within a deep hooded countenance.

"You can foretell?" Odd accent.

She spent several moments just gazing at the figure beneath the heavy cloak.
When she finally moved, it was to lift her glass of whiskey.

"Sometimes." She muttered and took a sip, which burned All the way down.
"Have to know what to look for." She finished with a sardonic edge.

It earned her a slow nod from her mysterious friend who then placed his hand
out on the table. His gloved fingers were wrapped around something. When
she didn't react, he reached his other hand out along the table top and
beckoned her. She set her glass back down slowly and placed her hand out
beside his. His closed fist opened over her palm, dropping a small metal

"The truth was always there." He said, not unkindly, and slid out of the
booth, though he paused by the table to look down at her. "'Time will prove
the virtue of your thoughts."

She wasn't sure if he'd spoken the words aloud or not but she'd been told
that before. In any case, the message was clear. She didn't need to look
at the object in her hand to know what it was, she could feel it.

Writer: Tamaska

Date Fri Aug 17 14:23:53 2018

To All Eclipse Shadow Verminasia Imm Rp Necrucifer

Subject The Battle Within

Seething and silent anger. That was probably the best description one
could give for the brewmaster over the last several weeks. She'd spoken
very little most of the time, except when the need had arisen for her to.
To say that she was angry was no where near enough of a descriptor. It
radiated from her very core and at times she was uncertain she could contain
or control it. So in silence she remained, trying to sort out her own
thoughts and emotions.

One of the younger d'Aerthe's, Tam hadn't lived through the challenges that
some of the others in Eclipse had. She hadn't experienced the wars,
hardships, and battles that had molded them into who they are now. There
had been experiences and challenges that she had faced but none as
challenging as what Eclipse had already faced since they had come together.

Still... There is nothing that can prepare one for a loss like this. One
can live a hundred lifetimes and still not be prepared to deal with the
crushing loss that is the death of one's God. The brewmaster remembered it
like it was merely moments ago. The breath had been completely stolen from
her lungs or at least it had felt that way to Tam. She had made her way to
the Eclipsian Sacrament, a Temple built by a Storm Priestess, because she
needed to try and catch her breath, to calm herself.

But the calm had never really come, the anger had continued to burn. She'd
gulped large drinks from the flasks on her belt but they did little to
quench it. The emotions battled in her like a raging storm, one moment the
anger consumed her and she wished to raze the realm in fire. The next she
felt the weight of their failure, it brought her to her knees each time it
gained control.

Some how she had fought through the war inside her that night and eventually
collasped in exhaustion. In the days and weeks since the battle on the
moon, she had managed to calm the storms even more though she felt as if the
days of complete calm were long gone. In a sense, any sort of innocence
that still remained in her views of the world or her beliefs had been burned
away, forever gone.

Hate, she had thought she knew it before but now they were like long lost
lovers. It kept her company in the darkest hours, kept her warm on the
coldest nights and when she needed it, there it was seething just below the
surface. That hatred pulled her through those weakest moments and now it
would make her stronger. It gave her focus and helped her find a purpose
once again. It was a constant companion that she welcomed.

Their enemies and even some of their allies seemed to relish in their loss
as if it meant they were beaten, that their purpose was gone. They had
flocked to it like starved carrion creatures. Their taunts and words only
served to feed the anger and hate that burned in the yinn. Their fight was
not done, their purpose was not over. Now it was more important than ever,
backs against the wall is when the monsters are unleashed.

Writer: Sierus

Date Sat Aug 18 15:57:54 2018

To Arkane All ( Cayenna Imm Rp )

Subject The Echoing Roar

The steady clink of picks, shovels and chisels employed by the many
workers provided the percussion to the music of various bird calls and
chanting in the early morning upon the road entering the northern approach
of the Kurotaka Hills. Sitting astride horses, the work's progress upon
this newly seized territory was observed by the two men who saw it as the
final line of a message they had agreed to send to the shokonese emperor
weeks ago. Two large basalt obelisks had been raised on either side of the
road's beginning being steadily chiseled as other groups of workers pried
loose cobblestone pavers and yet another group replaced those stones with
bleached skulls bearing a blackened hourglass symbol from carts heaped with

"Very creative indeed Gaijin.. Oh, forgive me, Lord Tonbo.." The Dojian
emperor Kaito said and chuckled gustily at his companion before continuing,
"We'll see if this helps you maintain your expanded territory.. I remain
With a sigh of resignation at the name he was commonly being
referred to as, the Lord of the northern province replied, "Every battle
begins in the mind, Kaito.. I'm just giving them something to think on.."

Grinning as the emperor shooed at a dragonfly circling his head, Tonbo
continued "If they press the issue, the added numbers Itsuki and I will be
training will make what happened in the Osaka Woods look like a tickle
Kaito rubbed his chin a moment before replying "I am afraid Itsuki
will no longer be available for your service.. You'll have to find someone
else to aid you."
Turning with a look of surprise at the emperor, the lord
asked "Why? Itsuki has done exceptionally at everything I have asked of
him, when are you going to see the man instead of the little brother?"
emperor simply shrugged at the protest continuing to snatch at empty air as
the dragonfly darted about evading him. "Itsuki will do as I require of
him. As is demanded of ALL my subjects, Lord Tonbo.."
The emperor intoned
with hint of command and a sideways glance, "He will be much too busy to be
your manager, you will simply have to train another. I require him to apply
what he has learned in shoring up Tokaido as it's new lord."
despite the subtle rebuke Tonbo began "Matsui could.." Before being cut
off with a grunt of negation from the emperor. "No.. Matsui is busy
soothing the lords upset at the notion of arming and training the common
folk.. As well those whose daughters your cousin encountered... A rash of
children named Silas will not sit well with them.."
The emperor snapped
grumbling to himself as Tonbo tried to cover a snicker and grin with a cough
and his hand.

Down upon the road the worker stepped back from the obelisk blowing dust
from the freshly engraved words beneath the rampant lion seal of the emperor
and House Averritt. He glanced back at Itsuki for final approval and asked
"This is as you wished it, Master Itsuki?" Itsuki inspected the work a
moment and nodded approval stepping to trace his fingers along the three
lines of writing, "The Lion has roared, Tread lightly upon the Unwise, Death
travels the road"
, whispering "yes.. The message is sent.."

Writer: Enora

Date Sun Aug 19 16:57:42 2018

To All Knighthood Kaeira ( Imm ) Kantilles

Subject Of Squires and Puzzles

The library had become a place of comfort for Enora. She loved the books
and the scrolls, the stories and the history. The ghosts of the past were
her friends, and she had taken it upon herself to care for them. In return,
they gave her knowledge without judgement. Without giving disapproving
looks if she lingered too long. They cared for her, too, in a way that only
silence could do for someone like herself.

Someone who lacked the confidence to speak up, and to others.

So common was her "station" within the library that most, if not All of the
knights within Gareth's Keep knew of her love for the books. That she would
know answers to questions or knew how to find them. It was why fellow
squire Kaeira Eareen came to her. The bookworm would know where to find an
answer to a puzzle that spanned generations, right? Enora could try, at the
very least, to help. And so she followed Kaeira, which only pulled her into
a rabbit hole of questions. Questions leading to more questions. Questions
answered by questions. Questions that went in circles with no clear or
obvious answer.

Enora immediately agreed to Kaeira's proposal, not just because she wanted
to help solve this puzzle, but also she felt more... Comfortable around
this rowdy woman. She was almost the complete opposite of Enora, and yet...
And yet, the quiet librarian found herself drawn to the self-proclaimed
storyteller. She felt it easier to speak with her fellow squire, her

The thought of having a friend made Enora smile... Which faded some when
she looked up at the series of books in front of her. Right. She was
trying to solve a puzzle. Those series of numbers Kaeira found were similar
to the ones she had found, as well as the numbers from Acre St. John's
missives that had been buried in the bookcases. It had something to do with
the Dracons, and defenses, and the Templar Brotherhood. So far, she had
found nothing that would lead her towards the answers she desired.

Sighing, Enora pushed her glasses to the top of her head and rubbed her
eyes. So many missing links. But she wouldn't stop. She made a promise to
herself, and a silent one to Kaeira, that they would fill in those missing
holes. She put her glasses back in place, and reached for a book on top of
one of the many stacks she had gathered at the table. She would go back to
the beginning. It was always a good place to start, and if she missed
anything on the first read-through, she'd find it on the second. If not the
second, then the third.

She opened the book, deciding the Dragonvale would be the best place to

Writer: Veronnica

Date Mon Aug 20 00:10:35 2018

Writer: Draphinamina

Date Mon Aug 20 08:22:13 2018

Writer: Natalie

Date Mon Aug 20 10:35:10 2018

Writer: Aibranan

Date Mon Aug 20 13:21:08 2018



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