Werew0lf 12024 Popular Post Share Posted July 14, 2021 ♫♫♫ THE INQUISITORS RETURN To the scions of Azdromoth A deep swathe cut into the countryside of Almaris; fittle and empty firkins of ale left from joyous celebration of a local municipality. Men and women kept fingers locked, children capering across its impoverished, destitute streets. The stalls were filled with rotten vegetation, houses covered in foliage and roots from nearby tree-trunks. Flowers bloomed in beautiful, erotic displays. Though gelid air befell the denizens of this town, they remained warm-hearted. “LOOK AT THEM, SON.” The cacophonous voice rumbled into the mind of a wandering general; his gray-hued orbs scrutinised the wonky gates. A signboard collapsed, constructed by some barmy bumpkin. Each step left burning marks engraved into the dirt, plumes of smoke fluttered out from under the creature's hood in frustration. “HE WHO HAS NOTHING, YET LIVES AS IF HE HAS EVERYTHING.” His irked eyes wandered the deprived town, the dragonkin washed by the torment of his living sword. A twisted mind, now tainted by the longevity of his eternal father; now tainted by the soughing of wind and words. “What must be done, Father?” Eluitholnear whired, the nephilim emaciated from his long venture on-foot. With each burdening step into the town, he seethed with turbulent, perfervid vexation. Shawm, bagpipes and psalteries silenced at the appearance of the mammoth; the scion of Azdromoth and Inquisitor Eternal stared out from the gaps of his visor. Men, women and children alike curb and froze. Flaming eyes shifted images of Toz Nurizoth, a sifted gauntlet ascending into the air. “HE WHO WANTS EVERYTHING, YET HAS NOTHING.” “HE MUST TAKE, CHILD.” An eerie silence pursued, the ambience of the vegetated, shrubby town growing dreadful. “KILL THEM.” It was then that wisps of flames grew into his palm, gauntleted-hand twirling with images of an elderly drakaar -- not that of Azdromoth. A vaunted greatsword conjured betwixt his fingers, morphed by unnatural fire; burgeon flames of red bled into the weapons dracanium length. Words - for all to hear - escaped the blade, chanted from a foreign drakaar. “You look ill, Inquisitor.” The sword mocked. The village rumbled, trees splintered and wooden claves and staives were left broken in the dirt. A loud bang echoed through the burning pyre - the remnants of the town - and then came the silhouette of the dragonkin. A part of wood from a druidic aspect statue gripped into his bloodied palm, sauntering onwards deep into the enriching forestry. “ONE OF THREE.” “INQUISITOR ETERNAL.” The ocean waves crashed against a drunken tiller; sails ragged and flailing from the gentle breeze. Atop the small dinghy sat a lonesome dragonkin, eyes now serpentine -- they stared out towards a chary hulk. It canted starboard, surrounded by men wielding scabbards adorned with tricornes. Slowly, the dinghy approached, veiled by ebon wisps from his plates of dragonscale. “YET HE WHO TAKES EVERYTHING, MUST ALSO GIVE.” Words jolted into the dragonkin’s mind, kindled by fatherly love. The reticent general tugged against the dinghies' halyard, now canting port. It crashed into the side of the pirates hulk, bow now rammed into the foreign ship's keel. Throwing the crew into a swivet, they drew their scabbards as water sulked into the bottom-deck of the hulk, barrels floating out. “AND HE WHO CANNOT GIVE, MUST BE TAKEN FROM.” The dragonkin haggardly wade through the water, one hand outstretching into the air. Those marauders stared out in silence, filled not by the evading water -- they were filled with fear. “BUT FOR HE WHO CANNOT BE TAKEN FROM.” Words enunciated from the esteemed son of Dragur, Firstborn and Chief to the Dragonkin. The inquisitor eternal heaved flames into his palm, slowly conjuring the same accursed sword, one trapped with the soul of His kin and His knowledge. “You feel ill, Inquisitor?” It questioned mockingly, embers of red swaying across the blade's edge. “MUST BE KILLED.” Flames cascaded across the ship, the victorious general of Azdromoth now left afloat on a sturdy sheet of wood -- a remnant of the marauders hulk. The waters now left red, bleeding with sin. Eluitholnear craned his neck rightwards, the nostrils of the Archdrakaar hewing winds fierce enough to guide his fragmented wood. “TWO OF THREE.” “INQUISITOR ETERNAL.” The inquisitor stepped out from the wooden float; his boots dropped into the rocky turf of molten. Magma spewing from a nearby volcanic husk, no path seen in his venture onward, left with no guidance to reach the volcano's summit. “HE WHO IS ETERNAL MUST WORK HARDER.” He continued to crawl up the fiery terrain, rocks sliding down its steep magma-filled hills. “You might fall, Inquisitor.” A voice cooed from nowhere as it banged and tormented the mind of Eluitholnear with insidious, murderous intent. “You might hurt yourself, Inquisitor.” It whispered and slithered, coiled around the figments of his imagination, grappling his sense of loyalty and consciousness. “I would do you better than your Father.” The drakaar mocked from within his blade, bellowing out in crazed laughter. “I am son of the Titan.” Eluitholnear boasted hesitantly, gauntleted-hands clawing at lumps of rocks -- the dragonkin steadily ascended the volcano, now standing at the edge of its deep crater. Vents of ash and soot blew into the face of the Inquisitor Eternal, something he ignored. “HE WHO IS INQUISITOR MUST WORK FIERCER.” “FALL, SON OF MINE.” The dragonkin stared down towards the bowl of magma that spluttered and bubbled, disgorging muffled words of tormented souls -- inquisitors of old who failed the final trial. His boot floated over the magma. . . and then it collapsed. “HE WHO IS GUIDED BY ASIOTH.” THE INQUISITOR RETURNS A steel fist rose from the magma, one living and eternal. TO FRIENDS OF AZDROMOTH; It was the sin of the Betrayer that swayed our Fathers ire; invaders and usurpers of our mortal homeland brought to challenge his necromantic blight. I - Xan, an eldritch horror -- the greatest enemy of all, harbinger of false hope and courage. II - Aspects, masters to the traitor Taynei’hiylu -- the greatest sin of Dragur and His first mistake, a false dragaar. III - Conjurors of dark magic, those who defile life for power -- the greatest temptation of man, scions of the Betrayer. IV - Aengudaemons, all vile corruptions to the Creator, powerless and diminished. You must take the first step and begin an incursion. Upon my return, all brothers and sisters will be armed with blades of thanhium, relics of power and more. Do not focus on the Xannites, they cower in walls of stone and forge their own deaths like the cowardly lord of light they revere. TO SCIONS OF AZDROMOTH; I - To the proverbial herald-king Haskir, Kharajyr and favoured by the Archdrakaar; meet me soon. Let us speak more about our affairs. II - To the immortal swordsman Antonius, favoured warrior of the Archdrakaar, meet me soon. Let us speak more on life. III - To the infernal quartermaster Krendogron, I hope your mission has been a success. Let us speak more about our future crafts. IV - To the blessed duelist Kaaldomun, I hear of your Haenseni operations. Let us speak more on your battles. V - To the favoured daughter Midnetora, we have yet to speak much outside of our goals. Let us speak more to fix our bonds as siblings. VI - To my comrade Vithfrinaak, I hear of your exploits in the scum of mankind and the crown of druids. Let us speak more about your success. VII - To my favoured herald, Sand, I hear of your work under Krendogron. Work hard, for when I return, expect tribulations to set your immortal path. Let us speak more about your trials. VIII - To the cleansed Mirwuldsetiid, I hear of your works with Haskir in your battle for the Golden Lance. Let us speak more about your appropriations as nephilim and your hatred for the light. IX - To the hateful Gamling, I hear your hate spouted from the depths of Nurizoth. Let us speak more on your disgust of those with longer ears than yours. X - And to those elderly and returners, may wings shroud you. SIGNED ELUITHOLNEAR Curator of Flames, Lord of Hahdrim , Crownbearer of Nurizoth, Son of Azdromoth, the Inquisitor Eternal Spoiler [OOC: This is only accessible to Azdrazi, Heralds and Allies.] reformed gamer thanks 41 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Milenkhov 4528 Share Posted July 14, 2021 Spoiler first 5 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Emery 737 Share Posted July 14, 2021 Spoiler second 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Jentos 6884 Share Posted July 14, 2021 “Hate . . . “ Spoke Gamling aloud, alone. A hand bawling into a fist encroached to his head and he spasmed in irritation, drawn from the ire of his heart, a flame that could not be quelled. “Is that all that I am ?” The nephilim cried unto the missive, eyes trailing over the written words at the very bottom of the parchment, penned by the Inquisitor himself, over and over again. The missive was torn, stepped on. He cried, he howled in his misery and inability. In the very face of his weakness he raged and he hated as he always had. Where he failed, he angered, where he desired, he hated. Gamling was a being of fire, a fount of unbridled emotions, hate, and for that; he cursed his flesh as he did the World. He brought pen to paper in crude fashion, etching a missive of his own for the Inquisitor Eternal, Eluitholnear. “Brother Inquisitor Eluitholnear - know that I will be more than the hate you attribute to me. I will be the fire that sweeps the halls of our foes. I will be the hatred that will drive our spears through their frames and so cast them from this world to Void. So meet me and I will give you my tale and speak boldly of what it means to be fire and show you what it means to behold the very yoke of misery. I will be the Asioth of their nightmares, omnipresent, eternal, unimaginable. - Gamling.” 5 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ryloth 4314 Share Posted July 14, 2021 Haskir grins wide. "At last." He drawls, tucking the scroll away. Setting off, he went to seek out the Inquisitor Eternal without another word. 6 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
hotbox_monk 977 Share Posted July 14, 2021 Spoiler Reserved 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
sneLf 305 Share Posted July 14, 2021 "Woah!" States Lyulen Daemyr 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Covey 466 Share Posted July 14, 2021 A paladin frowns :( 7 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
squakhawk 7949 Share Posted July 14, 2021 The burned Herald continued to lay malaise in his bandages, as his last words with Allant still shook throughout his head. What is the point? Would it be all for nothing? What would become of The Herald once set upon the path. What would become of his insatiable lust for gold, women, discovery- Perhaps another ten-thousand years and more to discover the world and plunder it's bountiful riches. Maybe another ten-thousand years of instruction, doubt, and lies atop it. What if he did consider taking a woman and a boat of gold to explore the vast and infinite seas. What then? For the seas and skies only go so far with forever. What then? Would his purpose be complete? Would he return back to see things change once again? Immortality, the elf was already immortal- immune to punishment, immune to death. Elu would never strike me. I will never die. Yet what is he missing? Allant's own hypocrisy was yet-so apparent. He wished to not live a lie. Yet he lives within a faux-construct of his own reality. He is in a shadow of his own mistakes, would Junar and Alayris lead their own family to this same damned-path too? Would Sand fulfill what they meant for him? The elf continued to ponder within his shallow bath, the cold riverwater mending his bared olive flesh, looking to the ceiling of Camlannen above. He'll return soon. I suppose I should figure out what to think quickly. 4 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
rukio 8910 Share Posted July 14, 2021 In a land far away, a wasteland of snow, a paladin with aheral features hums a song. It could, perhaps, be noted as the tune to "Obsessed" by Mariah Carey. 1 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
excited 10833 Share Posted July 14, 2021 Alistair makes note of the Inquisitor Eternal's return with a smile. 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
_Sug 2562 Share Posted July 14, 2021 Through desolate fields of infernal cinder and treachery did ride forth upon steed, one Scorched of the Titan. He took pause upon crease of knoll and released a deep breath after sharing some words with the Inquisitor and rasped forth. "Imprecation be placed upon any whom befall the blade of the Inquisitor." 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
yandeer 731 Share Posted July 14, 2021 Spoiler How long had it been since she had known the comfort of her kin? Her rooms were a mess- floors littered with swiftly discarded scraps of paper written in a dark ink, a dozen sketches, a handful of maps. Her years effort, rendered useless due to circumstances outside of her own control. Enlightenment came slowly when clouded by sorrow- the lack of presence of another at her side felt strongly. Perhaps this was why her enchantments and talents were no longer her own- lost twice now in the span of some fifty years, maybe once more to her Father's irritation. Was it possible to capture that spark of divine flame a third time? Would she even be judged worthy by her brothers when her deeds were so occluded behind layers of subtleties and shadows. She gazed deep upon herself in her looking glass, and beheld features that were as foreign to her as Oyashiman wares or Dark Elven rituals. She had lived in so many bodies, had been known by so many names- and now it seemed unlikely she would ever be able to recapture that last scrap of her original humanity, when she had walked the land not as dragonkin, but as Franziska. Franziska- what did that name even mean now? A legacy left behind in an Empire that seemed determined to forget her good deeds and hard effort. Letters and lovers both lost to time- so many names and faces that now seemed to mesh together in a grand and horrifying amalgamation. There were so few who remembered the name Franziska that it had become just as meaningless as the other faces she had worn- Anna Sibylla, Kameyo, Miralin, Klariel. Would Midnetora become obscure as well? Would her seemingly immortal gift be sundered- left to rot under the heat of the sun that she had been named for? In the form of dragonkin, she had many names as well- Loyal Northern Summer, Dragonmuse, Midne-of-Many-Faces, yet even they who had called her by those epithets as if she were some small god were vanished on the winds, far from her sight. She had lived so long by many names, swapping faces and monikers as easily as her clothes, that all she had done became lost- and for a time she had enjoyed it. She wielded the whisper as well as her brothers wielded their swords, and her tongue had become a formidable weapon to rival any honed blade. But was it satisfactory to leave no legacy behind? To have her deeds be shrouded in mystery and obscura? She gazed once more into the mirror and saw a woman whose name she did not know. Perhaps Eluitholnear would be the one to grant her a new one. 4 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Archangelic 212 Share Posted July 14, 2021 Amalya heard the commotion from outside the tower, the mere glimpse of him in the square just the night prior. Nothing was said, there was no exchange but the gentle closing of the door. She nearly waited a decade, she could wait a little longer. 1 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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