The Vale RP
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| Author | Topic: The Vale RP |
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Agent
Member # 4574
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written Wednesday, December 5 2007 14:59
Profile
OOC: If you don't want the backstory, just read the Age of Magic. IC: The Age of Gods- In the beginning there was nothing, which was created by the Creator, Jeff Vogel. Then, Vogel created Rune, the world we live in now. Unsatisfied, the Creator continued on, fathering the gods, the four Elemental gods, the Spiderweb Pantheon*, and Ahonar. The gods then went to Vogel, and asked him to create Man, and all of the other living things on Rune. Vogel agreed, and life graced Rune, never to leave again. Still unsatisfied, Ahonar rallied the other gods and attacked the Creator while he rested on. Imprisoning him in a glass onion of Ahonar’s design, Vogel was trapped as the other gods had their way with Rune. Soon their ideas clashed, and they gathered their followers together into armies to fight each other. The world was destroyed and shabbily repaired many times in the Holy Wars. Fire burst from the ground to engulf the enemy, the oceans covered entire cities, devils and demons ravaged the lands, and flamming muffins rained from the skies. Many were killed, and eventually the gods were forced to join together into the modern day unions we see today. Unwanted by all, Ahonar, though he was strongest, was defeated. As he lay defeated, the shackles on the Creator were broken, and he returned with a vengeance. Seeing his jailor laying defeated before him, the Creator surrounded him with high reaching mountains, then unleashed much raw energy upon him. Ahonar was killed, but managed to save himself by returning as a mortal. The place where he was destroyed mixed Vogel’s powerful power with the remnants of Ahonar’s power, eventually creating the Vale. As a mortal, Ahonar set up the Church of the Anama, secretly hating the Creator and seeing the Vale as were the Master was destroyed. Meanwhile, Vogel used his remaining power to prevent the gods from ever interfering on Rune again, as well as restoring the destroyed lands, leaving the north as a reminder to the devastation. Ahonar, however, was not bound by this restriction as he was mortal at the time, salvaging some of his old power from the Vale afterwards, managing to become a demigod, immortal and with limited powers. The Age of Magic- The gods, unable to intervene, watched on in horror as man continued warring. The central peninsula was ravaged as the Occidental and Oriental Empires clashed, the central lands never free. In this hostile environment, the Anama flourished, welcoming in refugees and causing a boom to the Church. Vogel, wanting peace to reign, gave his people a blessing. Gathering together the residual power on the Vale, Vogel gave the oppressed peoples a tool to conquer the enemy, Magic. Also, around this time the Least came from the Northern Wastes, beast people, with leathery skin, large eyes, and an affinity for magic. They were enslaved. The Runic Kingdom soon rose, destroying the Occidental and Oriental Empire, and peace reigned for years. The mighty citadel Manarina was built by the mages to support them, and the gleaming University was built, seeing far into the Earth, the Stars, and the Past. They discovered many things, such as a buoyant rock, with which the harvested. They built a new city with it, linked to Manarina by a large anchor chain, at which they could get the greatest amount of magic. The Runic League then continued the harvesting, and used them to make mighty flying ships. Then the Rebellion came, the impoverished Easterners and Westerners fighting for freedom. The Anama, seeing their chance, made an attack on Manarina, which they saw as a monument to the Fall of Ahonar. The University was taken over, the Libraries burned, great magical items destroyed, and the anchor chain was nearly cut. This, along with the Eastern and Western rebels, was enough to prompt the Kingdom to action. The Anama were given a city of their own, the Persecution of the Anama ended, the Council of the Gods** was formed, and a representative Parliament was established to satisfy the East and West. Peace reigned for many years, the Runic League established large trade networks, the Northern Wastes started to be settled again, and life was good. Then it wasn’t. Ahonar had finally found a way to get back all of his power, and he passed the news on to the Anama. They secretly followed his instructions, and soon Ahonar was feeding off of the Vale. Eventually, the fact that the Vale was getting weaker was noted by the Blind Sage, and he revealed his findings to the world. Chaos reigned on Rune, and a rebel government decapitated the Kingdom, ruling by fear. Bandits appeared on the trade routes, and pirates seized League ships. Strange monsters started reappearing, and hostile foreigners landed on the shores. The demons and devils that had long ago been sealed away had started to fight against the magical bonds that held them, knowing they would soon be able to leave. Meanwhile, in the Heavens, Ahonar made a shocking return, controlling the Gods, and using their powers to seal Vogel away again, before banishing them from Rune. While the Old Gods still had some power, they were no longer able to fix anything, and Vogel himself was cast to Rune as a mortal, with a false memory, and the Glass Onion holding his power sealed deep in the Northern Wastes. Life was dark, and in desperation, a small band of heroes went to Manarina to go on a quest to heal the Vale. The Mages were all to happy to assist, and a small number of magicians went with them. However, the Church of Anama, at an all time high in power, wanted to do everything it could to stop them. Still, there were problems back at home, and other heroes, soldiers, and commoners took up arms to restore peace to the land. Many things happened, like the Anama forging an empire with Ahonar as Holy Emperor, the Runic League continuing as a collection of city-states focused on trade, and the Least suffering more abuse then ever. * The Spiderweb Pantheon is based on the members of the board. For example, I am the god of royalty, Alo is the god of accuracy, gatesmen, and drugs, Iffy is the god of baked goods, TM is the god of devils and demons, etc. ** The Council of the Gods has a representative for each of the gods, from Ahonar and Vogel, to the Spiderweb Pantheon and the Elementals. Yes, even Iffy. -------------------- "I'm happy I'm the mentally disturbed person I am." -Nioca Posts: 1186 | Registered: Friday, June 18 2004 07:00 |
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Agent
Member # 4574
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written Wednesday, December 5 2007 15:54
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OOC: Whew, that took a while. Here's the form for entry: Name: Age: Gender: Height: Weight: Magic: (Yes/No) (If yes level of training) Skills: Occupation: Small Bio: This is just a few bits so that people know something about your character. An example would be: Name: Alexander White Age: 18 Gender: Male Height: 5'8" Weight: 150 Lbs Magic: No Skills: Bartering, Haircutting, Gambling, Sailing Occupation: League Tradesman Small Bio: Alexander was dropped as an orphan in the Runic League. Taken under wing by Leagusmen Joeseph, he soon learned the values of hardwork. Doing tasks for the League everyday, and studying in the library at night, Alexander soon showed enough promise. As the news of the Blind Sage reached Cape Town, Alexander was accepted into the League at the age of eighteen. Leaguesmen Alexander was then placed under the supervision of Leaguesmaster Joeseph, as he sailed to deliver an important package to Anamapolis. Joeseph died under mysterious conditions however, and Alexander found himself captain of a ship whose crew hated the Anama... -------------------- "I'm happy I'm the mentally disturbed person I am." -Nioca Posts: 1186 | Registered: Friday, June 18 2004 07:00 |
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Agent
Member # 8030
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written Wednesday, December 5 2007 17:41
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Sorry about underestimating you, GoldenKing. Name: Ivanhoe le Fay Age: Twenty-eight Gender: Male Height: Six feet, five inches Weight: One hundred ninety-eight pounds Magic: Yes, but only capable of minor healing prayers. Skills: Blade Master, mechanics, defensive tactics, masonry, and leadership. Occupation: Leader of Castle Bustoke, Wielder of the Excalibur Small Bio: Ivanhoe was the illegitimate product of two prominent adventurers. Since the accompaniment of their own progeny was impractical during their journeys, the two adventurers decided to entrust him in to the care of the Anama. The Anama received Ivanhoe with exemplary compassion. They raised him upon their morals and provided him great wisdom and insight. Eventually Ivanhoe enrolled in Ahonar's academy of piety. Instructors at the academy were strict, and accepted little laziness. As a result, Ivanhoe often studied in his quarters until the lethargic powers of sleep demanded their toll. Regardless of his lack of sleep, Ivanhoe gained mastery of the first circle of healing prayers. He then continued his studies into the second circle, but several vexations prevented him from doing so. When the head priest of the academy ascertained that Ivanhoe was incapable of advancing, he sent young Ivanhoe to the Temple of Reason. The temple was designated for members of the Anama to ponder upon their life and their deeds. Ivanhoe walked among the ominous hedges of the temple for several months. His fervent concentration rewarded no insight, and his hope of finding a purpose in life dimmed. But one day Ivanhoe discovered that he had a knack for operating the massive machines that construct monestary walls. He became an apprentice of Buto, the head mason, and was instructed of the craft. Buto soon realized that Ivanhoe had surpassed him in the skill, and he entrusted Ivanhoe of the construction of a new temple south east of Dracopolis. Ivanhoe applied his skill well. The temple he constructed claimed magnificence, yet still served the purpose of seclusion. He decided to remain there for a mere few days, but once again his life was changed. Choas erupted in the land of Rune, and hordes of brigands attempted to overrun the temple. He and the residents were forced to defend their treasures, but doing so proved difficult. Ivanhoe assumed the role of general, and during his duties he acquired defensive tactics and mastery of the implements of war. When the attacks receded, Ivanhoe ventured east to the coastal towns of Pao, Port Carian, and Oakvale. There he performed occasional construction projects and became acquainted with the local people. During an expedition to locate a quarry site, Ivanhoe stumbled upon a strange occurrence. He found a luminescent swords driven into a stone, and interested by its uniqueness, he attempted to remove the blade. He succeeded and later found the word "Excalibur" engraved on the hilt. After discovering the powerful great sword, Ivanhoe wished to found a community of his own. He gathered followers from Poa, Port Carian and Oakvale. He had disowned the philosophy of the Anama, and he taught individuals to accept magic and peaceful seclusion. Ivanhoe and his followers constructed the village of Bustoke with the aid of his superior masonry and mechanics skills. They then organized themselves into a self-sufficient community, and they remained so for several years. As the leader of Bustoke, Ivanhoe has refrained from contacting the outside world. NOTE: Castle Bustoke is on the edges of the Infernal Maze. -------------------- Project Von Bora Posts: 1384 | Registered: Tuesday, February 6 2007 08:00 |
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Infiltrator
Member # 7298
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written Wednesday, December 5 2007 18:40
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Name:Litron AKA Shade Age:27 Gender: Male Height: 6' Weight:180 Magic: Yes has low level training in healing and battle and low moderate scying, unlock, and various spells related to spying/stealth/ assination Skills:Extremly skilled in assisation, dagger use, stealth,tracking, and investigating Moderatly good with a wide range of weapons, lockpicking Occupation:Mercanary/assisan/spy/ Small Bio: Shade is a very mysterious person the few people who knew his real name are now dead. He now does high risk jobs for a price. His family was decimated by loan sharks early in his childhood. He was forced to fend for himself forcing him into a life of crime where he evently came to be one the most feared assiasins in the land. He is known only as The shade He has long been payed by wealthy mages and politicians to find and steal valuable magic research and artifacts, assinate and/or intimadte political enemies. A groupd of wealthy mages have payed him an unprecedents sum of money to discover to cause of the drain on magic with the promise of much power if he succeds in stoping the drain. -------------------- A rock has weight whether you admit it or not Posts: 479 | Registered: Wednesday, July 12 2006 07:00 |
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Infiltrator
Member # 10578
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written Wednesday, December 5 2007 21:48
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Name: Taliesin Age: 32 Gender: Male Height: 5'11" Weight: 140 lbs. Magic: Summoning of many kinds, powerful healing spells, Elemental war magic Skills: Leadership, stealth, music (useful in some special encounters :) ) Occupation: Druid - bard, advisor, mentor, etc. Small Bio: Taliesin was born to a family of poor farmers under the rule of the Anama. He was a quiet boy, and his parents knew early on that he was very different from the other children. While the other farmers' boys played sports and rode horses, young Taliesin would sit for hours in the woods, humming softly and seeming to commune with the forest itself. One day, soldiers of Ahonar came to the small village looking for a man named Sean Galloway, who they suspected of treason against Ahonar. Taliesin saw the warriors coming, and ran to warn Sean's family. Unfortunately, there was nowhere they could hide. As the soldiers burst through the door, Mr. Galloway stepped forward. "I won't struggle. Just leave everyone else alone." The soldiers laughed, and bound him in chains. Then one of the spearmen noticed Sean's teenage daughter Alyssa, trying to hide behind the kitchen table. "Come here, little girl. I'll be nice," he chuckled. As he advanced on the terrified girl, Taliesin stepped in his path. The two glared at each other for a long moment. "Get out of my way, boy!" snarled the warrior. "I don't think so," murmured Taliesin, trying to sound calm. The next minutes passed in a blur. The soldier swung a fist at Taliesin's face, and Taliesin knocked it aside, yelling "Leave her alone!" But what actually came from his mouth was in a completely incomprehensible tongue. A blast of fire issued from his hand, and the angry soldier was knocked across the room. The soldiers left quickly, and Taliesin now knew that he had to flee for his life. He and Alyssa ran into the forest, and there they met a druid named Cormac. He already knew what had happened, and he took Taliesin as an apprentice, or "filidh." Alyssa stayed with them as a cook, and eventually became Taliesin's wife. Many years passed as Taliesin grew to full mastery of his considerable powers. Alyssa, too, managed to become quite a proficient healer. And someday, very soon, they will return to heal the land of Ahonar's evil... -------------------- "What direction, what direction now?" ---- My poetry Posts: 432 | Registered: Tuesday, September 18 2007 07:00 |
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Shaper
Member # 7420
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written Thursday, December 6 2007 05:07
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Name: Vladamir Vortigern Age: 51 Gender: M Height: 5'3" Weight: 119 lbs Magic: Yes, the highest levels of offensive spells, but no healing or blessing magic. Skills: Master debater, fearsome presence, skilled wizard. Occupation: High Priest of the Church of TM. Born to two wealthy parents whom he hated, Vladamir ended up in a seminary for the priesthood of the Church of Stareye at an early age. He hated it there, and when his parents died unexpectedly and left him their fortune, he left to join the Church of TM instead, where he quickly bullied and bought his way to the top. High Priest Vlad woke up at around noon on that faithful day. His servants hadn't bother to wake him, they knew better. He was supposed to give a sermon at eight that morning but there seemed no point in going to church now. Vlad stretched out and hit the gong on his side table, letting the people waiting outside know he was ready for them. Several servants entered and prepared to debrief him on the state of the land, not that he really cared that much. He had many followers, but their independent nature and hatred for authority made his role more symbolic than anything else. He disrobed while they spoke, and his servants shielded their eyes from the horrific scene like they had a thousand times before. "Go ahead, make it quick please, I have a bit of a hangover." His main servant, Trinculo, a Least, began. "Yes, well, Master High Priest, a blind sage..." at that point Vlad zoned out. He couldn't seem to remember what had happened last night. This happens a lot, especially on nights when he knows he has a lot of work to do the next day. After all, if he is going to be busy all day, why not party the night before to even it out? It makes perfect sense. "...no more magic. Ever." Vlad wasn't sure he heard that last part right, "What the ****? Hold on, hold on. Start over..." Since that day, Vlad has devoted all his resources to somehow fixing the problems with the Vale. Unfortunately, it is difficult to get anything done when the High Priest is perpetually incapacitated and his followers constantly fight amongst one another. Lucky for him, Vlad was about to get the biggest wake up call of his life. He was about to run out of money. -------------------- You lose. Posts: 2156 | Registered: Thursday, August 24 2006 07:00 |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 7557
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written Thursday, December 6 2007 07:51
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Name: Jeran Korak Age: Around 32. Gender: Male Height: 6.1 Weight: 130 pounds Magic: (Yes) powerful but sphere-limited innate magical powers. Magical blasts, firebolts and the occasional invisibility spell are about it. Skills: Expert Weapon-Master, constantly seeking new ways to perfect his already astonishing skill. Brilliant reflexes, reasonable grasp of military tactics. Occupation: None. spends his time wandering through the lands without any real quest. Small Bio: Jeran was born to an upper-class family in the Runic League. He was characterised with deep blue skin, a chiselled face and perfectly black hair. Upon seeing this, his family cast him out of their home to the wilds, were against all odds he was found and taken in by a family of farmers. Upon reaching maturity he discovered his great love of forge-craft and weaponry. When the chaoses struck the land, he returned to the capital were he stole a large quantity of experimental magical ore, which he forged into his great-sword, naming it Ravvijac, or “Soul-Stealer”. He then left the city, land and history for almost 10 years, being 22 at the time. Recently however he was seen in the northern wastes, travelling west towards his old home in the League. (If this isn’t enough, just tell me. I like my characters past to be mysterious or unknown, a personality trait) Posts: 942 | Registered: Sunday, October 8 2006 07:00 |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 7252
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written Friday, December 7 2007 02:40
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Name: Dazzle Raz Age: ?? Gender: Male Height: 7' Weight: 50 Lbs Magic: Yes..just about anything except Holy Magic.. Skills: Powers over the elements..arcana..conjuration..black magic..everything just no Holy Magic..seems over-powered? It ain't.. Occupation: A lich living in the Infernal Maze.. Small Bio: Prologue: "Time..time..what time is it? I have lost track..it's been so long..long since I've become this..monstrosity..how long more shall I suffer? Ah..what else to do but wait..wait till time ends." An adventurer party enters a castle made up of crimson red stone. "Finally. The infernal creature's lair! It's ti-" The party got teleported to a dimly-lit, grotesque room before the paladin leader of party finished saying what he was meant to say. "Ah..little adventurers come to amuse me again..it's been a while..I'm waiting.." a emotionless voice said.. The party, surprised, didn't know what to do until their leader began to speak. "Ok..here's what we're going to do. mages casts all your protective spells on our party, priests too. Priests..enchant all of our warriors' weapon with Holy Affinity and keep it alive! Also, don't forget to heal!" "Done yet?" The emotionless voice spoke from the darkness. "No! Just wait fiend! I shall incur holy wrath upon you!" The paladin snapped back and returns to speaking with his party. "Now mages, you guys are support fire. Remember, no Black Magic! War-" "RIIIIICHAAAAARD WHIIIIITE!" The paladin was cut off by the shout of one of the warriors who dived into the darkness. "What the hell?! CHAAARD!! What are you thinking?!" The paladin shouted as he ran in the direction where Richard White went to, the party beyond his back. "Finally" The voice said as a snap echoed across the room. A void appeared out of nowhere and sucked all the party at once. "Erh. Jeff Vogel..why have you placed me here? What is my existance for? It all seems so meaningless.." The voice said in a melancholic voice. -------------------- Humans fight to enter insanity. You ain't evil until you hear this! Posts: 732 | Registered: Saturday, June 24 2006 07:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 5360
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written Friday, December 7 2007 11:45
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Name: Munigant (Myu-nih-gahnt) Age: Unknown Gender: N/A, but previously male. Height: 7'7" Weight: 120 Magic: Yes. It is the Archmage of the Necromantic Circle. It is unable to cast anything outside of the Necromantic Circle, but that circle cover various offensive, defensive, and other varieties of magic. Skills: Various Scholarly pursuits, meditative arts. Occupation: Monk and Prophet of Nalyd, God of Sorrow. Bio: Munigant was born near the creation of the mortal race. Nothing is left of his mortal history, and he has forgotten it as part of his conversion to the Undead. His appearance was altered by his conversion, and his blood runs white, he is bald, and pitch-black smoke emanates from his body. He resides in the northernmost area of the Northern Wastes, in a hollowed out tree. The bio isn't done yet. -------------------- Fear us, mortals, but never envy, for though we burn with power, our fuel is our sorrows. Posts: 1636 | Registered: Wednesday, January 5 2005 08:00 |
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Canned
Member # 8014
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written Friday, December 7 2007 16:28
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So if I am a god, does that mean I can't join? -------------------- I can transform into almost anything, but not sanity -Iffy Muffins n' Hell|Muffins n' Hell: The Muffins Are Back Again I like this image Not in your shed -We are still under developement, but help would be nice. By the way, most of the conversation goes in the Moderator forum, in case your confused. Everyone, just call me Iffy. Please. Posts: 1799 | Registered: Sunday, February 4 2007 08:00 |
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Law Bringer
Member # 6785
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written Saturday, December 8 2007 17:09
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Name: Halfast Took (current alias) Age: 45 Gender: Male Height: 5' 4" Weight: 120 # Magic: (Yes/No) (If yes level of training): Yes, middle range combat spells and minor healing and defensive magic Skills: Mechanical ability with traps and locks, some ability to translate languages and magical scrolls, some slight ability with weapons Occupation: Adventurer Small Bio: Halfast Took is the current name of an adventurer wandering north towards the wastes. He used to be part of a band of that sacked an Anama Temple, killed all the inhabitants, destroyed the bodies beyond raising, looted the place, and burned what they didn't take. Now he is moving out of the area before he gets connected to what happened. He's found over the years that most problems wash away under a nice spray of acid. For those that don't, he's learned some more powerful spells. "I've got to get out of here. If the Anama find out I was involved, they'll keep bringing me back just for the chance to kill me again after torturing me. At least they can't trace the gold after we melted it down. This ought to buy me passage and a place to stay once I'm out of their reach. Lousy scrolls. You think I could find something use about how they work their magic. Translating this junk isn't worth the effort. At least it's useful for kindling. There better be something good in what's left." Posts: 4643 | Registered: Friday, February 10 2006 08:00 |
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Canned
Member # 8014
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written Sunday, December 9 2007 11:35
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Name: Muffinto the 18th Age: 18 Gender: Male Height: Usually 10inches, but can rise up to 6ft. Weight: 2pounds at 10in, 15 at 6ft Magick: Can cast many fire spells and can cast a healing spell known only to him. Skills: Random growth, biting, jumping insane heights to escape. Occupation: Disciple of Iffy, god of baked goods Biography: My original name was Muffinto the 18th. However, I was born unusually powerful and I have been named 1st Disciple of Iffy. And I am loyal to the all powerful Iffy and The Creator. We muffins are only known to those who are loyal to the Creator. And we serve Iffy, who serves the Creator, so we serve him too. We have a brief history. After the gods were cast away, a loyal human was taught by Iffy himself on how to create muffins. It is extremely complicated for a human, but he learned anyway. He found a secure location, where he began the spell lasting 50 years. Afterwards, 5 muffins were summoned. They were taught everything, they were good students. "Begin a society of muffins," were his orders. "And serve The Creator. Eat any of the Anama. They are very tasty." We have formed a society, and I have fathered 152 muffins. I have been asked to do very dangerous missions. But the Anama are very tasty, so I am very enthusiastic. Sometimes I have had to escape, and I am very good at doing that. I am currently at home, with all the other muffins, in a secret island southeast of Cape Town. Mmm. tasty Anama. Mages are especially tasty... -------------------- I can transform into almost anything, but not sanity -Iffy Muffins n' Hell|Muffins n' Hell: The Muffins Are Back Again I like this image Not in your shed -We are still under developement, but help would be nice. By the way, most of the conversation goes in the Moderator forum, in case your confused. Everyone, just call me Iffy. Please. Posts: 1799 | Registered: Sunday, February 4 2007 08:00 |
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Agent
Member # 4574
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written Monday, December 10 2007 13:59
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The children stood in awe, scooped up by their parents as they ran in fear. The small missles fell on everything, spreading a cold, cold feeling of panic through the populace. A last ditch attack by the mages, surely, or maybe some new bomb invented by the Runic League to terrorize them. The weaker constructs collapsed in on themselves, killing the occupants. Fires were extinguished by the substance, and unfortunate people were engulfed in it, no doubt doomed to die. Only Ahonar, sheltered in the Temple Church knew what it was: A blizzard brought about by the detoriation of the weather enhancment spell that engulfed the Kingdom. Ahonar walked briskly away from the gallery, into the map room. Military councilors waited in a semicircle round the large map of Rune, which was in fact of godly origin, taken in his Ascendance. A large trench and wall border lie in the southern end of his kingdom, where the foul mages held him back, atleast on the Central Peninsula. The Eastern Peninsula was all but his, moting more then a large series of vassal states. As the councilors debated their next move, Ahonar allowed his mind to wander. His eyes locked on a certain section of Rune, the floating city of Manarina. Suddenly, he was in the skies, skyships departing in all directions from Manarina. To many skyships... Ahonar's mind flew through the clouds, reaching the highest tower of Manarina. There, he allowed his godliness to turn back the clocks, and observe. Manarina The invisible shade of Ahonar hovered quietly on the ceiling, watching the events transpire before him. The Triad, consisting of the Most High Academe, Most High Archmage, and Most High Priest of the Creator, were all seated, waiting for someone. The slim door opened, and several prominent leaders walked in, not the least of which was the new King placed by the rebels. The group, some of the most powerful people in Rune, hunched together, speaking in hushed whispers. Ahonar swooped in, hearing the President of the Runic League say" "He is to strong. Already He has conquered the west, and once the Vale dies, we're gone." "Then we should strike Him down now!" the Most High Archmage exclaimed rushedly, "Magic is our greatest strength, and we must use it while we can! We might not be able to kill Him, but we can throw Him into the Abyss, with all the other demons!" "Ah, but there in lies the problem. The Abyss was an island north of the Northern Wastes, sealed off by magicians into an unescapable pocket..." the Most High Archmage beamed, but said nothing as the People's King continued, "However, with the Vale dying out, the Abyss will no longer be able to support itself. It will be a temporary fix, and when He returns, He will have an army of befriended demons on his side." "You know," the Most High Priest of the Creator started, "when the Creator was exiled, his power was hidden somewhere in the Northern Wastes. If we could find both his mortal form and the Glass Onion the power is in, we could bring back the Creator, and he could handle Ahonar once and for all. What's more, I've heard that there's a relic from the Age of Gods, a dagger, that can slay a god, somewhere in the Primal Sun's Graveyard. That could work in a pinch." The League President nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "My people can spread the message to the whole of Rune, even the Anama Lands, to get a group to assemble in Rune to go on this expedition of yours... Yes, I shall get on it immediantly." With that, Ahonar blinked back into the cold Temple Church map room. He was sweating slightly. The enemy had assembled, and now posed an actual threat. But, he had an idea, to infiltrate the enemy... OOC: So, basically, from here the Runic Leaguesmen will try to assemble the bravest, strongest, smartest, most resourceful men from all of the cities on the map. Go. -------------------- "I'm happy I'm the mentally disturbed person I am." -Nioca "Yes, Iffy is a demon." -Iffy The Two Universal Truthes: "All I know is that I know nothing" -Socrates "I think, therefore I am." -René Descartes Posts: 1186 | Registered: Friday, June 18 2004 07:00 |
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Infiltrator
Member # 10578
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written Monday, December 10 2007 15:54
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"There it is," whispered Neil to his companions. "Welcome to Oakvale. And remember, you are oafish fishermen. Not mages." The Runic League scouts quickly pulled their rickety fishing boat ashore, and shouldered sacks of trout. A few hours later, the tired mages had sold all the fish, and were ready for their real task. When they were all together at the boat, Neil spoke up. "The Anama have a very strong presence in Oakvale. We must be especially careful here. But I hear old Cormac has found an apprentice of no little skill." Leaving a few men by the campfire, Neil and three Runic mages set out into the dense woods surrounding the town. They heard strange whisperings in the trees as they approached their destination, and as they came to a clearing they were stopped by an old grey wolf. "We are friends," said Neil calmly. The wolf glared at them for a long moment, then suddenly shifted into human form. "Haven't seen you in a ages, Neil. What brings you here?" "Cormac! What a relief," laughed Neil. "We're rounding up useful adventurers, as a matter of fact. We know you're too old, but we have heard of an apprentice..." "Yes, my young filidh. A quick learner, that one. I have taught him all I know. Why, here he is now." A tall man, broad-shouldered, yet lightly built, stepped out of the trees. "Who are these, Master?" Several minutes passed as Neil explained the dangerous mission to Cormac and Taliesin. "What do you think, apprentice? Ready to test your skills?" "Yes, master. I am ready." "All right then," said Neil. "We leave at dawn." At dinner, Taliesin explained the situation to Alyssa. She was skeptical at first, but if Taliesin could help defeat Ahonar, she wanted to help him any way she could. Before the sun rose the next morning, Taliesin and Alyssa met Neil's crew at the shore. And as the first rays of light shone upon the town of Oakvale, they set off for Manarina. -------------------- "What direction, what direction now?" ---- My poetry Posts: 432 | Registered: Tuesday, September 18 2007 07:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 5360
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written Monday, December 10 2007 16:01
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Munigant walked slowly from his chambers. The letters he had read were disturbing. They had told of a dying Vale and a demigod's war. And they had been dated months ago. News took a long time to reach the Chapel of the Fallen Might, but this was too long, especially for news of this import. The other mage-monks would have to be warned that their power was coming to an end. They had been ready for this day since their transfer to the Chapel, but it still came as a shock even to him. Smoke curled in the air behind him, leaving a trail to his meditation chamber. Kneeling in front of the white slab of the altar, he drew the sacred knife from it's sheath and slid it across his palm, leaving a spattering of blood on the altar. Settling into his position, he began his chants. Visions consumed him. -------------------------------------------------- Violet flame swirled through a darkness, stretching on infinitely. A light beamed from nothingness, struck the flame. The fire disappeared where the light struck, but the light wavered. It's beam was not wide enough. It began to shake wildly, growing erratic. The violet flame weakened as well, and tried to escape, swirled away, though always attempting to get to the light's source. The light widened, but weakened, dispersing itself into the void. The flame swirled faster, spreading itself thin. The light blinked, started to strobe. The flame frayed, began to rip apart. The light moved from its source, revealing it to be a man in a wooden shell of fabulous design. With it's last pieces, the fire darted into the shell, consuming it and the man, and flew at the dying light, destroying it, and dying itself. The void consumed. -------------------------------------------------- Munigant woke from his vision hours later, starving. His god was as cryptic as ever. Not much could be slipped past the barrier. He quickly drew a claw down his face, and focused on the sensation. Energy gushed into his limbs and mind. Invigorating. After the feeding had slowed to a trickle, he arose. Swirling blackness followed him as he almost drifted to the door, and greeted the monk that awaited him there. In silence, they proceeded to the daily meeting. He would speak. They would know. Monks with robes with various combinations of black, gray, and white filed silently into the main hall from various parts of the complex. A few visiting nobility were escorted out of the hall and out of the Chapel. They sat in circular pews according to rank. They numbered around thirty, mighty mages all, all holy men and women of Nalyd. Munigant took his place behind the bloodstained altar, and opened with the usual holy recitations. To business. Munigant addressed the monks. He told them of his vision first. Speculative discussion among them ensued for many minutes, and this vision was recorded and filed away among the Archives. Then he told them of the letters from the Kingdom. Silence engulfed the monks, deeper than usual. One spoke of doom, another in anger, another in sorrow, another of patience, another of faith, another of action. Arguments broke out. Munigant stood silently, waiting. After a time, he stopped their speaking and addressed them. They would carry out their duties as always, expel all visiting faithful, and be ready. Be very, very ready. "One of the Potentials will come. We will aid him. I will join him. We must guard the Item. It will draw the enemies. When I go, you must prepare. I cannot know if I will be successful. I doubt that even Nalyd knows at this point. The barrier blocks his sight as well as his messages. If I fail, then you must be ready to survive in a magicless world. Preserve Nalyd's faith, and search for a way to breach the barrier. That is all." The monks settled, muttering among themselves. Munigant concluded the meeting. "In dry Sorrow our minds are seeped, so drink it from others to return to its maker." The monks filed out, many to sacrificial rooms. Munigant stood a long time, a pillar of smoke drifting into the ceiling. Kneeling before the altar, he drew his knife. -------------------- Fear us, mortals, but never envy, for though we burn with power, our fuel is our sorrows. Posts: 1636 | Registered: Wednesday, January 5 2005 08:00 |
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Shaper
Member # 7420
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written Monday, December 10 2007 16:22
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Vlad awoke to a group of armed priests breaking into his room a good three hours after noon. He was still a bit groggy from the night before, and was unable to resist as the priests dragged him through the halls of his own temple. By the time he had gotten his bearings, he was being thrown from the back entry to the chapel into the a rather filthy alley. He stood and brushed some of the grim off and quickly prepared a rant, "Oh, I see. So this is how it ends. You cowards are far too frightened to face me when I'm prepared so you throw me out in the middle of the night!" The group of priests quickly looked to the sky as if to be sure that it was still actually day time. It was. They shook their heads and slammed the door in Vlad's face. "I knew it was day time. I meant night metaphorically." The door did not respond. Dejected, Vlad turned to leave only to be confronted by his faithful servant, Trinculo. "Ah, come to mock me as well, eh, Lucius? Well, you can go eat the **** through, sucking **** ****** fondling **** even bastard *****." When Vlad was quite finished, Trinculo spoke up, "Uh, my name is Trinculo, master, and I haven't come to mock you. I wish to remain in your employ, free of charge." "Oh, that's a good one. And why, may I ask, would you want to do a thing like that, ingrate? No, let me guess. Confronted with a world full of greedy, self-interested blackguards, you feel the urge to do something altruistic, as if some divine force will reward your good deeds, even though it is really just to make yourself feel better about your own pathetic situation!" "Honestly, I just really hated working for the Church. You were, well, the one thing I could enjoy. You're entertaining, sir, hilarious at times. I imagine traveling with you will be well worth the trouble. And I can't help but feel you haven't the slightest knowledge of the world outside of your booze and women, so I figured I might even be able to help you to-" "Listen, Charles, I have just stumbled upon a bit of genius." Vlad moved past Trinculo, out of the alley. His faithful servant shrugged and followed. "I, the High Priest of the Church of TM-" "X-High Priest, master." "Wait, what?" "You have been relieved of your priestly duty, and banned from the Church itself forever." "This isn't my office... damn them! Do they have any idea- good, I don't need them anyway! Wilson, direct me to the nearest brothel and/or place where I can get **** off my ****." "I must advise against that, my master. And now that my conscience is satisfied, right this way." And so the duo traveled downtown, into the seediest part of the city. What city? Vlad had no idea. Eventually, they reached a noisy little hovel of a pub called Weapon Wench's. The sign had a half-naked woman on it licking a strangely shaped sword. It looked like a winner to Vlad, so they entered and the X-High Priest ordered up several rounds of the most potent liquor the place had to offer. Within an hour, Vlad was once again in his happy place, drunk beyond comprehension and completely unaware of the events unfolding around him, just how he liked it. Trinculo hoped for his master's sake that the barkeeper wouldn't ask Vlad to pay his tab any time in the next decade or so. -------------------- You lose. Posts: 2156 | Registered: Thursday, August 24 2006 07:00 |
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Law Bringer
Member # 6785
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written Monday, December 10 2007 16:54
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Halfast heard the Blind Seer's news that the Vale was dying and that magic was ending. For a mage adventurer this was dire for without magic he would be hard pressed to protect his Anama stolen treasure from other theives. But there was news that the Runic League was gathering adventures to save the Vale. Halfast thought to himself, "Maybe someone can find a use for these scrolls from the Anama. At least I can get something for selling them and they won't sell me out to the Anama." He decided to change course. He could get a boat to head towards Manarina and see if he could get there before the adventures left. He was getting too old for this, but there might be some profit in it for him. After all his money wasn't going to last forever. Posts: 4643 | Registered: Friday, February 10 2006 08:00 |
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Agent
Member # 8030
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written Monday, December 10 2007 18:57
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Chapter 1 -1 Ivanhoe gazed into the horizon atop the ramparts of his city. He pondered upon the state of the outside world, but his conclusion concerning one aspect remained prominent in his mind. In the realms beyond lay a sea of perpetual conflict, extending its grasp among every individual of every race. Ivanhoe wielded the smirk of a wizened man. Even in his secluded community stood the threat of quarrel and disdain. His heart bore the naive belief of doubting conflict's ability to penetrate his domicile... "Sir, sir!" a grief-stricken child ejaculated, "my brother has not returned from his excursion!" Ivanhoe leaped in fright. Rarely did anyone interrupt the adventures of his mind, but the cries of a child pierced his soul. He diverted his attention to the child, whose face was stained with the erosion of numerous tears. "Child, what is the matter?" The child's tear ducts erupted into massive spurts of liquid, "My...my brother, he entered the infernal maze and has yet to return. Sir...please forgive me." "What!?" Ivanhoe refrained from turning waspish, "Tell Caledfwlch I sent for him." The child left immediately and with great haste. --2 Ivanhoe's right-hand man appeared in his peripheral vision. He approached with an expression of exhaustion and anxiety. "Caledfwlch, we have little time to waste." "Yes Ivan, I am aware of the fact." "Shall I fetch the boy with my own being, or should a search party be organized?" Caledfwlch strained his mind to provide an answer, "No, it would be best if you sought after the boy alone. The rest of our flock lack military training." "Agreed. I shall don my armor and when doing so I hereby instruct you to spread word among the villagers that I will be absent." Ivanhoe quickly traversed the stone hallways to the entrance of his armory. He thrust his hand inside his tunic and uncovered a dull, rusty key. The lock wrestled furiously with Ivanhoe's attempts to penetrate it, a battle which the latter won. Dim light revealed the outline of several articles of fine craftsmanship. Ivanhoe reached for light blue iridescent chain mail, otherwise known as mithril. Next he donned the armor, proceeded with greaves, helmet, and gauntlets. Sufficiently outfitted and armed with the Excalibur, Ivanhoe locked the heavy wooden door, prepared to rescue one of his flock. The nondescript barriers of stone serving the purpose of walls passed Ivanhoe's vision rapidly. He was sprinting now, something soon ascertained by unarmed watchmen operating the gate. They saluted and held no protest to Ivanhoe's passing. ---3 After a mere fifteen minutes Ivanhoe's steed, Rocinante, had conveyed him the distance from Bustoke to the Infernal Maze. Dark malevolent cliff sides that bore ominous rock formations towered above Ivanhoe. Decaying oragnic matter, bones, and various other detritus were scattered among the narrow passages between the cliffs. However, despite of it's appearance, Ivanhoe had no choice but to enter. Ivan warily dismounted his steed and approached. An apprehensive chill rattled Ivanhoe's spine. Taunting wind whispered echoes of demonic shrills, resonating the foreboding thoughts in Ivanhoe's mind. He struggled to resist cowardice as the supernatural, oppressive air burdened every stride. Ivanhoe challenged his deductive reasoning with every branching passage. Eventually he stumbled by a small opening devoid of natural light. Several beings shambled in its limits, accompanied by voluminous moans. After several eternal moments of listening, Ivanhoe concluded that the creature beyond were undead. Ivanhoe braced himself as the adrenaline permeating his blood overcame the weighty air. He launched himself into the opening, wielding the Excalibur in the same instance. The slow-reaction time of the creatures allowed Ivanhoe to gain an offensive stance. The three undead shambled towards him in the unnatural light. A creature fell as the Excalibur broke the juncture between torso and appendage. Another rasped as its head detached from it's foul conjoint. The round feature of the cavern reverberated the sounds of melee. Ivanhoe slashed ferociously at the remaining creature, soon rewarded by its final death. Ivanhoe exhaled noisily as he surveyed the cavern. In the corner lay the figure of prepubescent child strapped to various implements of torture. Before he could maneuver any further, a foul beast tackled him from behind. Its grasp ingrained acidic wrath into his nape and drained the essence of his being. Ivan lurched with exemplary desperation and freed himself from its grasp. He lunged at the stoic figure, that being the last accomplishment before consciousness left him. ----4 Excruciating pangs throbbed his neck as Ivanhoe arose from his slumber. He muttered a prayer as intoxicating aspects of his ordeal assaulted his mentality. The frequent throbs in his neck ceased, allowing him to ration thought to the child at his side. Instinct commanded his actions. The oppressive straps fell to his side and the conceited shackles loosened with his fury. The child clung to life as Ivanhoe lifted him from the platform. Disgust and despair drove Ivanhoe against the dark atmosphere. The encumbrance of his burdens did little to weaken his fright as he hurtled out of the caverns and passage ways of the maze. -----5 Jereboam, the rescued child, slept under the compassionate eyes of his father. Ivanhoe stood with him, but his focus concentrated on a more important subject. The fact that Jereboam lived did not assuage his worry. The undead were a threat, and the only ones with sufficient knowledge of dispatching them were the Anama. -------------------- "There's a hole in the bucket, dear Excalibur, dear Excalibur..." Posts: 1384 | Registered: Tuesday, February 6 2007 08:00 |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 7557
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written Tuesday, December 11 2007 04:41
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Jeran Korak stood at the edge of the infernal maze, staring upwards at the towering walls of granite. Nothing could be heard from within, but his magically-enhanced senses were almost painful with the emanations of the place. It had been a hard road, he had been a wanted man for years and his decade in the wilds had taught him much about nature and the magic that made its home among such places. And truly, this was an evil magic. Having avoided Bustoke, fought off a group of well-armed but highly drunk bandits and surviving by casting fireballs at wet wood in hopes that they would ignite rather then explode Jeran was not in the mood to be turned back by anything smaller then a brothel. He ignored the warnings of his senses, or forcibly shut them off, a stupid move, but in its way, so very Jeran Korak. Drawing his huge curved great-sword he strode into the maze, not seeing or caring about what path he took. Mostly because it didn't matter. He was not going anywhere, the world on the other hand was, and if he walked fast enough and didn't encounter a dead end he might just keep ahead of it. An hour later he was lost, but that didn't matter. But no matter how many times he told himself that it didn't matter, it still mattered, and that made it worse. Tired, angry and despondent he sat down in a small scrape in the wall, making sure his blade had not been damaged in any way before sheathing it across his back once again. He knew by experience not to attempt to start a fire with magic, and there wasn’t much to use for fire anyway here. He also deliberately forgot to cast any kind of magical shield. If you cast a shield of protection around your camp in a place like this he knew, something would without fail turn up to see why it was there. And the kind of things that investigated a magical shield didn't need swords, or teeth, or in some more extreme cases; stomachs. So Jeran slept, he dreamed little, cared less. He was ronin, the wild one. The fact that there was probably a lot more wild ones circling him at that very second meant little to him. Even as they desended, like wraiths upon silk. Posts: 942 | Registered: Sunday, October 8 2006 07:00 |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 7252
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written Tuesday, December 11 2007 05:41
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The lich Dazzle was pondering again his existance as he always do. He walked near and looked out the window and saw that the creatures that lay below are in unrest. "Something is amiss." The lich stated. Dazzle waved his hand and a blurry image appeared in front of him. "A human in this hellhole? A blue one too." He made a coughing sound that vaguely seems a chuckle. "What is he doing here?" I might as well give him an invitation here." The lich conjured up a messenger shade, inputted the invitation in it, and commanded it to go where the human is, not to return until the human replied. The shade hovered outside the castle with its command received. "This might get interesting. Perhaps this shall amuse me even minutely. The shade hovered as fast as it could to the man's location, ignoring the fiends that infest the Maze. With the location imprinted in it, the shade has reached the human, finding him in sleep. The shade just stood there, unsure of what to do. The lich has commanded it to go the human but wasn't instructed on what to do when the human is asleep. The shade instinctly wants to go back to the lich but it was commanded not to come back without a reply. So the lone shade hovered and waited until the human awoke. -------------------- Humans fight to enter insanity. You ain't evil until you hear this! Posts: 732 | Registered: Saturday, June 24 2006 07:00 |
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Lifecrafter
Member # 7557
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written Tuesday, December 11 2007 07:39
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Jeran awoke, but didn't let on. Experience had taught him that gradually waking up, yawning and stretching before becoming fully active was as good as a "hello mum!" sign for anything shadowy crouching behind a rock. And so it was that he leapt upright so fast he strained his back, ignoring the minor pain he drew his sword in one fluid movement, standing up to his full impressive height. He saw nothing. Feeling embarrassed and rubbing his spine he sat down again. At this point he noticed what had awakened him. It was a shade, floating in the open so as to be noticed. Unfortunately, since it had been transparent and the sun (Or whatever shone through these hellish cliffs) had passed right through it, creating an optical illusion. He stared for a second, it looked like a harmless construct. The fact the light shone through suggested it was not malevolent in any way (Evil shades suck in light) and its highly gaseous nature suggested a messenger creation. Not taking any chances, Jeran held his blade in a non-threatening but defensive posture and addressed the entity. “I know you’re a shade and that you can’t harm me, so what message have you to deliver being?” He waited, the shade shimmered slightly before speaking in a traditional echoing voice. “My master, the Lich Dazzle sent me to invite you to his castle” The creature spoke haltingly, probably having spent a more then reasonable time waiting. Jeran silently swore at himself for remaining so unaware, resolving never to ignore his senses again, for the next 20 minutes at least. “Lich?” Jeran inquired The shade remained silent, Jeran realised the construct had only been programmed on a limited basis. “Very well” he said carefully “I accept the invitation to your creator’s castle” “Follow” the shade said simply, and began retracing its steps carefully. Jeran wondered for a second if he should consider running, then realised in a place like this running was about the worst thing he could do. Extending whatever mental probes he dared risk his sanity on, he followed the shade. Posts: 942 | Registered: Sunday, October 8 2006 07:00 |
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Shaper
Member # 7420
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written Tuesday, December 11 2007 09:45
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“Hey, you! Prancibald! It’s about high time you paid some more o’ yer tab, eh?” The barkeeper woke Vlad from his groggy slumber. He hated it when people did that. “Do you have any idea who I am? Jerimiah, pay this fool his foul-earned coin.” Trinculo sighed, “Master, we don’t have any money, and you don’t have any more jewelry to pay him with either.” Vlad looked at his hands. Indeed, his rings were gone. “The sacred relics of TM! Thief! Brigand! Someone has stolen my treasures!” The barkeeper was losing his patience, “You better calm yerself an’ pay up, or ye’ll be dealin’ wit the Weapon Wench ‘erself.” Vlad was unimpressed, “Oh, is she half as fearsome as the dragon of the hills whom I blasted into dust with a flick of my finger? Is she any wittier than the great strategist Shinzo, whom I made piss his knickers after schooling him on the finer points of battlefield stratagems. Or perhaps I will woo her with a poem that would pull upon the heartstrings of Nalyd himself!” “We got another one, marm!” The barkeep shouted. Vlad did a 180 and was faced with the Weapon Wench. She had the sword and was half-naked like in the picture out front, but the artist had neglected to include the 200+ pounds of warm, cushy lard that this woman inhabited, the greasy, stringy hair and all the warts befitting the cruelest marsh hag. “Sweet Vogels beard! I am having a most horrid vision! All the legions of Hell are marching forth to plunder and rape all that is good and holy! May the gods have mercy on us all!” Vlad’s vision ended as he was slapped clear across the room by one of the biggest hands in all the Kingdom. Trinculo guided the dazed X-High Priest outside and far enough away from the pub so that they could no longer hear the roaring laughter of its patrons. “Drewbert, it has been brought to my attention that we are in need of assets. We must find a way to fund my retirement, fast. Let us to Weapon Wench’s, I require drink to clear my mind that I might think of a genius plan to get us out of this mess.” Trinculo was confused, “Uh, Weapon Wench’s? The place we just got kicked out of?” “That was weeks ago you popinjay! Surely they have forgotten by now!” Trinculo shook his head, “Master, I think we should go somewhere else. Somewhere safe. Somewhere very, very far away.” Vlad thought for a moment, “Don’t I have a son or something?” “Uh, you have many, many children, master. If you’re referring to the only one you’ve ever taken responsibility for, she’s your daughter and she lives in Knothole.” “Of course! I took responsibility for her? I must have truly loved her mother, yes? To Knothole! It is there we shall find our fortunes!” Trinculo shook his head, “Actually, you hated her. You hated her so much that you corrupted the legal system to take sole custody of your daughter out of pure spite and then sent the poor girl off to a convent. Neither of them ever forgave you.” “Ah, yes. On second thought lets not go to Knothole, it is a silly place.” At that moment, Vlad noticed a nasty, brown stain running down the front of his robe. He picked up a crumpled piece of paper off the street to wipe it off. Within seconds, he forget why he picked up the piece of paper and started to read it instead. It said something about great troubles blah blah blah and a great reward to those that fixed them. “At last! A message from the gods! We shall travel to these troubles, smite them with all my mystical might, and our own problems shall be at end as well!” Trinculo took the paper from Vlad and read it. “I don’t think we can simply smite our problems away this time. This quest is just another call to fix the problems with the Vale.” “The Vale? Didn’t I fix that crap already?” “No, master.” “Whatever, two birds with one bush, then. Fix the problems with the Vale, thus saving my own powers, cash in on the sweet reward, and be back at Weapon Wench’s by evening! That dame with the sword was one spicy ****, yes? I bet she knows her way around, if you know what I mean. Want to see my sword? It’s a two-hander. Oh, yes, yes, Vlad has been a very naughty boy.“ Trinculo shuddered, he would never be able to erase that image from his head now. “I advise we head to Manarina. That city is pretty close to the Vale itself, so it would be a good place to start.” “To Maradima! It is there we shall find our fortunes!” -------------------- You lose. Posts: 2156 | Registered: Thursday, August 24 2006 07:00 |
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Agent
Member # 4574
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written Tuesday, December 11 2007 14:45
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He was going to kill each and everylast one of them. This thought kept spinning around in his mind, as he climbed down the roping on the exterior of the sky ship. Winds and icy rain bit against him, but his purpose was enough to propel him forward. Finally, there it was: the door to the cargo bay. Fumbling with the knob, he crawled in, sealing the portal again and locking it with a plank. With a flicker of his thumb, Isaac Erikson created a weak magical flame, and used it to light a torch. Soon, he had fully illuminated the cargo bay, and was now alone with the treasures that lie within. The treasures being weapons, to be delivered to the Front against the Anama. Issac selected his choice weapons, a dagger with a ruby pummel and a leather sling. The weapons safely tucked away, he then cracked open a crate labelled "ARMOR" and donned the contents. The contents, of course, being the uniform of a Runic soldier, a red tunic overwhich silver looking scalemale was placed. He then donned the chainmail helmet over his messy brown hair, and attached the groin guard. Tucking away his forged identity with military passes, Isaac broke down the front door and walked towards the deck above. When he arrived, he moved towards the parawings, throwing each away until only his was left. Then, gripping the railing, he slashed the ropes that held the weights away. Instantly, the ship unbalanced, turning almost completly over. Isaac watched unfeelingly as his crewmates screamed in surprise, some falling down to their deaths. Slipping the parawings on, he unlatched the flight rock, and watched as the ship and it's crew plummeted to their death in the fields below. He was high up, and he say Manarina in the distance. Determined, he started gliding towards the floating citadel, leaving the dark deed behind him. -------------------- "I'm happy I'm the mentally disturbed person I am." -Nioca "Yes, Iffy is a demon." -Iffy The Two Universal Truthes: "All I know is that I know nothing" -Socrates "I think, therefore I am." -René Descartes Posts: 1186 | Registered: Friday, June 18 2004 07:00 |
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Canned
Member # 8014
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written Tuesday, December 11 2007 15:32
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It blinked some more. It walked a distance. It was happy. Happy to be rid of that cave. It saw a plant, remembered its hunger, and ate some of it. Then he got real ichy inside himself. "Hey! Stupid! That is poison ivy! And what are you, some kind of demon? Well, demons aren't all that bad.", said a farmer from a distance. "Why don't you come in?" It walked to the house, and swore at the site (the farmer and his wife were surprised he could speak). Inside were sculptures of muffins. And in one place, an alter in the shape of Iffy stood. "Yes", the farmer spoke. "We worship the holy Iffy! Screw the others, Iffy is the best!" It, angry, begin to speak,"Iffy is stupid! Iffy is a jackass!" The farmer shrugged,"I belive in freedom of religion" -------------------- After It ate (he didn't get his fill, the farmer didn't have much), he was led to a bedroom to sleep. It looked at a reflecting glass, seeing himself for the first time. He was quite skinny, his ribs sticking out. He had yellow-brown skin. There was nothing inbetween his legs. He had four arms. And he had two legs. He also lacked a belly button, having never been born. Pressing his hand to his chest, he felt two hearts. He suddenly felt a need for clothes, felling embarresed over his nakedness. He asked the farmer for clothes, and he got some that roughly fit. It would do. He thanked the farmer and went to sleep, happy to be out of that cave. -------------------- I can transform into almost anything, but not sanity -Iffy Muffins n' Hell|Muffins n' Hell: The Muffins Are Back Again I like this image Not in your shed -We are still under developement, but help would be nice. By the way, most of the conversation goes in the Moderator forum, in case your confused. Everyone, just call me Iffy. Please. Posts: 1799 | Registered: Sunday, February 4 2007 08:00 |
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Guardian
Member # 5360
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written Tuesday, December 11 2007 16:07
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Munigant exited the meeting hall. Small groupings of monks were clustered in groups around the courtyard. One sat head in hands in one of the benches. Munigant sat down beside him with a whisper of greeting. "Friend, why do you suffer in sorrow? Our duties from Nalyd are to collect and return that of his making, and keep it out of our mortal world." "Perhaps, brother, but I cannot empty my own sorrow. It evades my reasoning." "From what do you suffer? The death of magic, our power? Or the deaths in the Demigod's War?" "Both. The war not so much, for we have eased the suffering there from the beginning. I am no stranger to it. But never have I truly comprehended the death of magic. Our work will be compounded a hundredfold without magic to aid us, and again for the wars that will follow. I fear for our order." "As do I, my brother. But we must persevere. More suffering means more worshipers to flock to us, and so we can better alleviate the sorrow that will follow. We must persevere." "Yes, brother, I see. I will try. Now, if you will excuse me, I must make an offering to Nalyd." As the monk walked off, Munigant looked around at the monks still deep in discussion. He managed to look sad despite his empty eyes. Then he crossed his legs. Hours later, Munigant still sat on the bench, deep in meditation. When he opened his eyes, a small, magical jewel bird stood in front of him. It clutched a letter in it's beak. When Munigant carefully took the letter and searched it for curses, the bird dissipated. After finding nothing harmful, he slit the letter with his nail. A conscription notice. The Kingdom was recruiting all mages in the Chapel. His monks would become tools of war. Black fires consumed the letter, and Munigant stood icily. An black orb issued from his palm, and he whispered to it in a hushed tone, and carved a vicious runic trap into its surface. It rose gently into the air and flew through the air, following the path of the jewel bird. -------------------- Fear us, mortals, but never envy, for though we burn with power, our fuel is our sorrows. Posts: 1636 | Registered: Wednesday, January 5 2005 08:00 |
