NLThomas

Through the snow, a elf clad in armor unleashed bolt after bolt upon the enemy forces of the damned. And as the chaos unleashed upon the city, the Barrowlord stepped forth. Finally coming into the sight of Orris from the blizzard. Without a second though, he takes out his weapon, making his way forwards. "Bring it on!" He yelled out in a battlecry, storming forwards. A javelin, made of gold, finds its mark into the Barrowlord of the fog after which Orris sends his Slayersteel spike down into the creature, clad in unholy infernal armor. As the two clashed in combat, whisps rained down from the sky. Orris barely managing to not be hit by any yet the barrowlord dropping to a knee infront of the elf. And so, with one decisive parry, the armor was slain... the elf, Orris, having not much experience thought it was over. Yet whispers of the damned flowed around him, enough to make a man sick. Breathing heavily he looked around yet nothing was to be seen. With a pure gamble, he throws his dagger into the general direction of the Barrowlord, invisible to the naked eye. And with all the luck in the world, it founds its mark. Yet before Orris could bring the finishing blow, he was struck down by a Titanic being of stone, making him fall forwards in the snow. The world twirled around him, confused and dazed he layed in the cold. The Barrowlord being slain by someone else, the troops of darkness made their retreat. Orris slowly came to a stand with his back carved open and bloody. Stumbling forth through the snow, noticing that same titanic being dragging off the armor of the damned lord. Knowing he couldn't let it escape, afraid it might be able to return the lord to its full strength with the armor, he went into a attack. Yet the weakened elf was no match for the beast. Being thrown to the side after trading a blow, laying now once more in the snow. The force of nature stepped ontop of Orris, attempting one final blow, yet luck and pure determination managed Orris to survive that faithful day. But the high toll of his arm being cut clean off. There he layed in the cold, bleeding and unconcious as the Titan departed. A lesson learned, a arm lost and a seed of anger and hatred planted in the elfs mind.

The so called Hero makes his way through the rain and mud. Some blood from the supposed attacked visible upon the cloak. Eventually, finding the dirty wanted poster. A soft sigh emits from the figure shortly after with a shake of his head. "Easy to let out the details huh... keeping a sword against a childs throat and crying when you get stabbed for it." Mumbled the elf to himself. Adjusting his halberd upon his back and making his way homewards. Putting on his old armor to then wait for any to try and claim the bounty.

It was a quiet morning, cold wind breezed through the mage his hair. Life in recent years had been difficult yet he carried on. Kallian put on his coat and cape, making his way to Veritas. Meeting a young man he once met a while ago, at least, that is what the letter would say. And in the tavern of that quiet roadside town he waited, growing a bit more anxious. Knowing well what he had done and that some might be after him. And so it was true, entering the tavern was not only the young one, but also a tall intimidating man. With a cold ember gaze. And there Kallian stood, leaning upon the wooden fence as he gazed over the horizon. “Kallian, could you please come with me?” The younger one spoke, asking in a kind and soft tone. “Aye lad, best to come along." Spoke the large figure towards Kallian Yet the elf did not turn around, hands clenched around the wood of that fence as he stared into the distance. Falling in thought on how to get out of that place. “Not a simple conversation after all… leave me be, it is for the best for all of us” “You know we can’t do that” And as the two went to try and restrain Kallian, he disappeared in a small cloud of mist before appearing in the grass field. Staring towards the two attackers. “That was a mistake!” So the two went to attack him. The large one rushing at him and throwing a punch, yet was met with fire straight to his face. Burning flesh and skin yet the punch did land. Shortly after, the young one bashed him over. Restraining Kallian and eventually, being escorted off. “You should have just left me be…” The elf muttered out while carried along. Eventually being pushed in front of someone quite familiar to the elf. Someone who listened in times of old to the stories of Kallian and was one to support the elf in times of need. “Tarathiel… let me guess, no drink this time?” “No drink this time indeed. Tell me, why do you have ill faith towards my people?” “I do not… I don’t know why you think that.” “The assassination attempt, I know about it. No lies this time.” And after some back and forth, a cut was made to his leg with a swift slash. Making the elf drop to his back, groaning in pain as that same blade was put to his throat. Begging to be left alive, claiming his actions to be righteous. Yet it did no longer matter, with a quick movement, a cut was aimed at his throat. Yet with the interference of faith, his life was spared for but a few more minutes by another. “Not in front of the children, Tarathiel.” And so, Kallian was carried off to a tower. Being set upon his knees. No last words from the elf, all that came from him were a few rare tears. Tears not shed in a long time from the tired and exhausted elf. His lifetime of running came to an end right there and then. a young man, with grand plans of exploring the world, pushed down by the cruelty of that same world. And with a swift kick, the elf tumbles down to his death. Splashing upon the soft grass that felt like rock from such a height. And with empty eyes the dead man stared up at the night sky. Tears streaming down his lifeless face. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Months after the death of the elf, a missive was spread along the continent... A confession of Sin. If this letter is published, then it means I’m dead. My name is Kallian Syrivir, born in the city of Fenn. Throughout my life I have made many many mistakes yet let it be known, I did it for a right cause. Throughout my life, I have only tried to do what is right. Yet it seems that I have degraded. Slowly my actions no longer were just, and if I die, I at least want all to know I tried to do right. In my younger years, I joined the Brotherhood of Virtue. A group led by a old friend and a paladin. I joined this group to do good, not for selfish reasons. I became part of the group yet was pushed out by the hypocrisy by the Oaths they followed. For they let someone join their ranks who had killed a poor child in front of my eyes. Later, I became a minister of Knowledge within the city of Vaelya, yet my deeds were once more dismissed for I was banished for treason. By speaking out to a foolish decision of its leader. If not for my family, I would have left that place to die in the flames it started. But I was offered an accord, to fight in a duel to be no longer banished. Yet once more, the injustice of the world pressed down upon me, rigging the fight against me in every way possible. It no longer being a fair duel and instead a fancy torture. Leaving me to die upon the stones of it. Everytime, I tried to do right by what the people saw as right. By fighting evil and performing public services. It was sadly never meant to be. For me to be good, I had to be bad, ironically enough. And so I had set out my… foolish crusade, looking back upon it. I have killed cultists, sacrificed them as they tried to sacrifice me. Murder God worshipping idiots and torture those who harmed people close to me. Looking back on it, I was dumb to not see my decline. Yet my work had to be done. And it all would bring me closer to gaining knowledge ironically enough. Each soul I murdered would be a stepping stone upon which I would stand, elevating me to a higher understanding of the realms. To gain knowledge was to be cruel. And to gain knowledge was to become strong. Strength through knowledge. While I know I have done wrong, I will never stop my crusade. I can not stop now while so close. But if I die, I at least want everyone to know my story. It was not my decision to perform these bad acts. It was the injustice of Aengul worshippers, government officials and everything in between. This is my confession, this is how it went. A story of my life, probably having come to an end when you read this. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Along with the missive, some personal letters were delivered to certain addresses along the continent. Each with a name written upon it. All delivered by a man in a cloak, choosing to remain anonymous. To Sylvari Melphestaus: To my two beautiful children: To Sionnach Redfist: To Leyu: To Maehr’ir Dov: ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- OOC:

Welcome to the family mate. If you ever need help or something, don't worry about sending me a DM. Gladly assist where I can on your new journey. Hope you enjoy yourself.

[!] Pages from ancient tome, dark red blood stains the pages. Mad depictions from rituals and horrible images are drawn throughout the old fragile paper. And between these drawings, text is written, the logs of a scholar long mad. Ever searching for his Magnum Opus. Art by Capn_Avery The sweet treasonous melody in my mind beckons me closer to the dark. How many sacrifices have to be made until the knowledge of ancients and Gods is mine. How much further do I have to fall before ascending. Knowledge is might, yet I do not know anymore which I wish. The lines blur, morality fades away, time moves on and the days become darker. Vaelya, Sutica, those God worshipping fools. None has stopped me, none shall stop me, none may stop me now. The strings of my sanity are held by my will to succeed. I must finish up my work yet I'm starting to forget why. Traveling through realms has gained me knowledge and insight that I thought once impossible. Power through the sweet crimson blood. Beautiful creations out of destructive forces. Such knowledge. Such strength. The temptations are sometimes too much to control. The price is high. The rewards? beyond comprehension. Blood will flow through the streets. Infernal liquid shall be harvested. The rewards will be gained. Sacrifices shall be made. So it is written. So it is done.

One got tripple teamed by Vargs back in Arcas. Lured me in with some ritual thing and curious young elf char of mine was interested. Good Rp, love to see more of it.

I really really like this. You have done a amazing job.

Man... i will miss you brother. Will forever remember the RP we had back when we both were noobs. God speed Rep.

Probably deserved it tbh

It was a day like any other. The mage scholar walked a bit back and forth through the street of Du Loc. Humming a calm tune to himself, thinking about the recent research he had been working on. Studying his tome with all his concentration before... "AAAAAAAAAAAH!!" The scream echoed through the empty streets. A wild man, rabid and hostile sprinting straight towards the elf. He looks up from the book to face the threat. And then, the man, Bo, jumped straight towards the elf which dissapeared in a small cloud. The wild man? Slamming his face straight into the stone stairs. The scholar certainly wasn't entertained. Many times he layed at the mercy of those who think to make him kneel. Azdrazi, Paladins, Kings and queens. In that moment, the elf did no longer think, he would no longer kneel. Binding the wild man up, the scholar drags Bo off into the woods a stone throw away from the city before letting go of the rope out of pure exhaustion. "Why out of all people you chose me?" The annoyed elf asked the bound up man. And the answer was blood, all Bo required was his blood. And blood he would get, yet not that of the elf, no Bo's own blood would be spilled that faithful evening. With that blood, a unholy ritual was made. The vampire no more. All that remained now was the scholar, Bo being no more then ash. And in that moment, he pondered, falling in thought. Was the man truly evil or but someone with bad luck... The memory of the attacked repeated in the elf's mind. Did Bo truly mean no harm? Was it fair for himself to give this faith to Bo? The questions pilled up. Then... A figure emerges out of the wood. Looming over the scholar with a cackle. "You have done well... join me young one. I can guide your research."

"Let the hunt begin!" A elf adorn in armor celebrates the upcoming fight!

Love it, +1

Can't wait on Smaug to burn down the lands. Amazing trailer man, great work. Hype to see what comes from this all.

Basil, the best artist ever who made my pfp. What RP had the most impact on you?

Do you love me? But also, what is the coolest **** you've done or seen in rp?

After reading and mumbling by himself over the paper, Kallian snaps his fingers "That has to be it, quite easy really... yet definetly worth the look into, at least if i'm right."

After giving it a good read, quite solid lore. Really well done as usual.

From a lonely tower between Elysium and Vortice a elf utters to himself while reading over the missive. Slightly raising a brow with the bold claims and even bolder acts, done by Azdrazi or not did not matter. "Wonderful, a fight between two idiots. Entertaining at least perhaps?" The elf asked the jar upon his desk, within it a small mushroom man starring at him with black bead eyes, the elf starring back with a tired gaze. The awkward silence falls in the room with which the elf makes a dismissive gesture "ah like you know anything about it."

Brb gonna sell alchemist potions on the AH.

A certain elf stumbled upon the flyer upon his long journey. Lightly humming, the elf his gaze flows over the paper as the wind blows the cloak back. "Curious... worth a visit if not for the potion" The elf hums to himself, carrying on with his journey shortly after.

a curious elf stumbles upon the odd scrap of paper laying there upon the ground. The curious gaze flows over the paper. A few soft whispers by the mad man were spoken, quiet, barely audible from the lonely tower within the west "o'snake... o'snake, how curious". Those whispers were shortly followed by a laugh, growing louder to then fall quiet, it was now all quiet expect for that cold wind, flowing past the trees.

A certain elf hears of the passing of the old Barclay. He scratches his chin a bit with a light hum "I wonder what he did with that cloak I gifted him back in Arcas... oh well"

From the lonely tower near Elysium and Talons Port, the soft humming of a mage comes. The missive was left outside this lonely tower and so the mage receives the message. Kallian his gaze flows over the paper, a frown forming upon his expression with the missing of his friend. "Those who treat me with kidness, I will repay that kidness ten folds... And those, that treat me with injustice, those who hurt my friends. I shall repay that injustice a thousand times over."