SteppeNomad

"SLIME?! In OUR Du-LOC?!" The wizard king sees the slime, gazing through his orb from the top of a tower... "It has not been less than a dozen years since the last time Du-Loc has had... Such danger... Such HIGH-ADVENTURE!" The wizard's eyes glow with FURY as he arms himself, staff and crystal ball, to traverse the land and find 'Willing volunteers' BRAVE ADVENTURERS! To join his FELLOWSHIP OF HEROES  for a CLASSIC Du-Loc adventure!

"Another glorious sporting event! May our BRAVEST citizens show all others, now, their prowess and ardent skills! For what is one if always he stands stagnant and ungrowing? Unfulfilled!" A martial instructor, hero of the citystate speaks plainly! Before those citizens around him! "Know rightly, my Comrades! All together, our shields protect one another."

Readied for this, he keeps himself trained, hefting biggly at the Iron Temple

"As stability increases in the east, the most enlightened Cheesemaking nations only grow stronger together!" He beams brightly, seeing the note! "May stability and peace in the east remain! FREE OF IMPERIAL AGGRESSORS" A high elven hoplite polished his spear! "May imperials and foes stay from the noble lands of the far east!"

"May the proud warriors of Clan Ireheart do well by their ancestors! Their ancient tradition, dragonslaying, hallowed by nature, is one of enlightened ways of the most honorable peoples. Surely those bright Dwed would be happy to see a spear of bronze hefted alongside their bortu steel... For they are not the only ones who will NOT suffer the slaves of the Worm" An elven hoplite looks over to his polished panoply with a thought on his head....

"Oh our great venerated elders, may you know that our will has never wavered, our strength never waned. For we stand together, brother, sister, as comrades! May all know the true ways of our ancestral Homeland, this blessed motherland which we inherit from those who came before. May our strength, wisdom, and courage only grow as we stride through these times! Know we will not bend to the throngs of 'ata beyond our walls, oh Elders, bring us a Maheral pure of soul, kind of heart, and steady of will! For we need one who KNOWS what is pure, a citizen and a true Patriot."

A beautiful elven sailor speaks out, his breath light and airy

"I, Pamphilos,  shall put before all, willingness to see this through!"

"May all false notions of thrones and crowns fall before our spears of cruel Bronze, for, fellow citizen, know truly, those Mali'ata who YET seek to despoil what is truly pure, what is good, and to bend further and further to the likes of princes, 'SERPENTS' and despotism, bringing to their lands the sicknesses and ill-health, may we, THE BRAVE CITIZENRY, the noble Republic, stand shoulder to shoulder, shields lined against one another, be THANKFUL that they have left. FOR THEY HAVE GONE, AND THE 'ATA CHASED FROM THE LANDS! The truest, the Mali'Thill always defend our most ancient traditions and sublime ways. Maehr'sae Hiylun'ehya!" 

A brilliant hoplite, polished and primed, stands before those others.

"Citizenry! Be driven! For soon, it will not be THEM who takes glories from the clutches of the fates"

A great monument, built of eternal gravel looms over the walls...

You feel charged and energized... An indescribable force beckons you forth

The entire realm Thrums with power, as stars align in position above the center of the world. A great charge is felt by all who approach

In that place, spoken of in legends, The Leylines conflux, carried along specific dimensions and cast skyward, as indeed. All power flows along those lines...

Like rivers coursing into the same great lake, All that power meets here in Du-Loc. The wheel turns, the ages shift, and the moons phases turn... Higher rises the Gravel Pyramid

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FOR IT IS BY YOUR LORDSHIP'S UNDYING GRACE AND ETERNAL VIGOR, OH SHIRTLESS PHARAOH, YOUR VISION LIVES ETERNAL IN THIS WORLD!

Letter from the Magocratic citystate

GREATER STILL does the Thirsting Gravel grow. Monumental efforts by only the most devoted of Du-Loc's elite high-caste loccers. They bring gravel by the Kanton from her ancient storehouse and flooded mine. STOCKS of candied gravel serve as indestructable mortar to bind the very Gravel Bricks of this Gravel Pyramid. HIGHER STILL WE MUST BUILD THE PYRAMID! The ley-lines charge, collecting energy into a vortexual beam directed straight up... Soon, when the stars align, we will scrape the moon...

POWER GROWS as the most devoted give their blood, their sweat, their very SOULS! Willingly! To The Pyramid, to DU-LOC! And now, eternally they are honored. Their bloodlines forever sealed as sons of The Pyramid Builders. The highest caste of loccer...

GREAT DU-LOC! BRING YOUR GRAVEL, BRING YOUR SPELLS, BRING YOUR SLAVES!... We will build this Pyramid High! Just to see if the Man-Maker was right!

                                                                                                                          Signed Abraham The Blue, Wizard King

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A hoplitized hero begins to gather The Lads... he has some questions that need answering since the days of Might Kivdrona's fall...

MAGOCRACY DECLARED

A Perpetual State of Ascent, The Inevitable Truth Revealed

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RISE GREAT DU-LOC, RISE. OUR BELOVED LORD, MY GREATEST FRIEND HAS PERISHED

I MOURN WHAT WAS WHAT IT WAS GOING TO BE AND WHAT IT SHOULD BE

BUT NOW WE RISE. FOR ONLY ASCENT CAN YET SAVE HER GREATEST DREAM

All things pass from this world, only those with the will to take what is ephemeral and make with it the world can exist eternally even through True Death.

This is the truth that Eternal Brae had recognized, and in the lordship's passing, it has fallen to me, Abraham The Blue, Court Wizard of Du-Loc, to take High-Seat atop The great Spires of The Loc.

In this time, I challenge all the greatest Wizards of the world, I do not mind your practice, whatever it be you hold in your grimoires is of your concern. If you do not violate the STANDING LAWS OF THE GREAT LORDSHIP OF DU-LOC then you may compete to face me, through ancient rite, for the title I take now.

Wizard King of Du-Loc

This ancient Rite, Partaken by Wizards, allows the Usurper to take such title as he needs. As long as he is a wizard...

Dear reader, know those Wizards who instead JOIN me in the stewardship of Du-Loc, shall be privy to the deepest of arcanas, Aid me in erecting The Gravel Pyramid to honor our Lord Brae so GREAT DU-LOC may return soon to its Lordship's Line of descent, and her Greatest lord's final wishes granted, may this title be dissolved returned to Court Wizard!....

Dearest LOYAL HIGH-CASTE DU-LOCCERS! Those who had remained during the Times of Ill-Will, when all the omens above our fair lordship, from the bustling inner-city, to the golden heartlands of Wheatfield and the beautiful hills of Ferremore, know me well. Because I like you had existed here since before even her golden age. That age of High-Adventure, yet blossomed. Bands of rugged adventurers once again roamed the land as in the age of Heroes of the past. Great Du-Loc, long-withstanding braved the tides of everything. Now once more we may brave that proverbial 'frontier' of High-Adventure. For soon, it will return... OH will it return... Come now everyone, Preordained Unending Freedom, provided you follow the simple laws...

NO WIGS, NO SPOOKS, NO TAXES

The Truth Will Be Revealed

                                                                      -Signed Abraham The Blue, Wizard King of Du-Loc, Wizard King of Ferremore, Magician of The Realm

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**P.S!!! Du-Loc is in danger! Please come and hang out and vibe for the next couple days!!! I will stand there, Valiantly Wizzing until the day she crumbles... But if that day never comes.... LONG LIVE DU-LOC!**

Beautifully, A true, pure high-elf "Those warhounds of 'Malin'or' seek to turn bruddah upon bruddah, though they know not even the bonds of kinship! For they murdered their neighbors, their very silvered blood in Haelun'or, and further still, such Mali'ata, devoid of pure light, cannot bare to see it in the world. A wretched darkness seeks to stifle the Heroic Age of high-learning! To turn that reality into such oppressed regressive dark-age that would satisfy only the most cruel of caballic elite! He looks over to the other elves in his bathhouse during the symposium. Bringing back a fresh bottle of water to add to their wine "Though yet, they dare not face any in open debate, knowing how eviscerated they would be. Nor would they dare step into the Purest of waters, for instantly they would immolate!"

Beautiful FREE Citizens of Sulianpoli, raise their spikes to the sky! As former Ebonized wooders show up trickling through the gates of the blessed cihi. "Those Mali'ata, the same who had subverted the GREAT CITYSTATE of Ebonwood, now seek to end further, the righteous rights of ALL Mali, be they 'ker 'ame, 'aheral! They seek to have you BEND, great individual, to have you BEND before the likes of those most cursed! Expelled from their motherlands for acts most impure... For Kinslaying, for seeking to overthrow our most ancient governments, and for all their crimes against Elvenkind!" The elf stands tall besides the large ACROPOLIS of Sulianpoli, his shield polished and cruel spike sharpened. "They fear us, the rightful, the purest, the individual HEROS of our time! Because they know we are true, and we are just! They fear the many rights and privileges that we accrue! For they know if they stepped one foot in our blessed pools, they would be immolated!" Beaming towards ALL COMERS he speaks! "May those who raise blessed spikes, for this polis, know truly you will be ensured vast privileges, and many rights! May you take your citizenship by the edge of your blade, and may all who stand before you, bend at the knee and submit."

That most beautiful elven hero, who despite the haranguing comments, continues to to bring up blessing after blessing for his citystate, and his people! "May all know truly, the way of those Mali'ata, the 'low elves' who break the traditions of our silvered peoples, and bend, willingly, to the likes of serpents!" He beams brightly! "Notice the disgrace in the faces of those Mali'ata, as they seek so badly to push themselves away from what truly hides in their courts" He speaks to others on the streets, offering them articles from the post, and posts past! "The 'Sorority' and their ways provably offer fealty to worms, their craven claims and expansionist agenda, seeking to make war for invented sleights, and to purposefully create slights shows all, the ways of this warhound of a 'prince'. If one could truly call that, to the impure, anyway!"

MC Name:

         DeepDarkSamurai

Character's Name:

         Zozhk'Mau

Character's Age:

         74

Character's Race:

         High Elf

What magic(s) will you be learning?

         Lutaumancy

Teacher's MC Name:

         TheAmazingSewer

Teacher's RP Name:

         Madoc'Lur

Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

         No!

Do you agree to keep Story updated on the status of your magic app?:

         Yes!

Are you aware that if this magic is shelved, that you may no longer use it in character?

         Yes!

-Helm of some snow elf prince, a decent prize

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The roaring fire fills the night sky. Together, those broddahs gather, on the shores of a windy river. Though they were Men, and Mali, and Urukhiim, none the less, they were Broddahs. All sons of Enrohk, on this, a day of battle. "Many times, have we strode forth, heavy greaves trod what is before us underfoot." All resounded in acknowledgement. He goes forth, a Mali, ti, though through endless victory had he taken those privileges of Honorary by the tip of his spear. Pouring a libation of wine and oil to the flames and the beast before it is slaughtered, that elf, who wore upon him, that full Panoply of blessed metal, and the striking mask of a terrifying elven ancestor. He held his spear aloft, still worn from the great battle shared.

"Know, my brodduhs! Our greatness. Our fine victories and GLORIOUS battles! That these are just the start! For GREATNESS comes, my brothers, and we, great HEROS rise to take it! I, Zozhk'Mau, Son of Kezt, son of Anaxagoras, son of Krug, lay my spear sharpened to take the title of Targoth. Undefeated, are we, those bands who fight besides me. Never have we failed, and every victory, one taken greater! EACH ONE OF US, MAN, MER. We are all champions of our own bloodlines! We are all HORDE!"

The scene is a heavy one, as brothers sing and enjoy themselves on that day. The loot, pried from the fallen, prizes TAKEN, in the fields of glorious wagh.

-May those who stand before us all bend at the knee and submit, and call us masters and Great Kings

-Anaxagoras, Hero-King. Founder of many citystates

Always Further, We Must Pursue,

True Life, only in Ascent, grasping ever greater perfection

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We know truly, the truth of what it is to be 'PURE', and in this knowing, we are ever-further able to reach. Grasping, reaching! With the strength of our minds, our forms our souls, to ever greater BOUNDS of that what is most pure!

QUAKE do those, who know little of the blessed paths, for in their ignorance they but only promote the suffering! SO! Lliran! Those who know of the RED VIS and DARK NIGHT, is it not true, that to be pure is to be clean!

Llir! To CLEAN is a statement of its own! One achieved not just through excessive repetition, through momentous ritual traditions. So then, lliran, if we may ONLY know what is truly pure, and we must always reach to strive to be ever-polished, why does rot yet fester? If we, who can only be secure in that which is pure is true, then in our power, to pursue, we must!

Rot, dear lliran, is something easy to expunge. To cleanse the world of tarnished impurity...

It begins with one's own self. To leave no land unclean, impure, unhealthy.

Come Lliran, To The Blessed Baths!

That temple of pure blues and blessed marble

Where beautiful springs surge from the rock, both warm and cool

Deep in the silver mountains of Haelun'cihi!

So we may earn the purity of our world, at the tip of our spike!

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*A High-Elf Labourer, Hefter of Big Beams, who sweat and toiled along Bortu and Urukhiim brothers, smiles brightly hearing the headline! He replies! "May our weapons bite true and drive the serpents from our isles! May they not subvert our great societies!"

"HIGH-WALLED HAELUN'CIHI! OH how you shine! A bastion of all that is pure and blessed in this vast world!" An elf cheers from the heated baths "May Larihei's vision reign twelve thousand years more!"

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The Winter Revolt

-Buzzbuzzbuzzbuzzbuzz

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The days were yet long, on this summered isle, yet a long night draws on. Wrapped in a sheet of mystic winter, out of season, and devastating to the flora and fauna native to those silvered shores. A rare ecosystem found nowhere else, now threatened. Flowers wilted, shrubs shrank, fruit pulled too unripe from vine. And the Loyal Beelot, our Illerir'suikayal held the lowest production since before they were liberated from those barbarians who kept them caged. It was only for the suddenness of this mystic storm that the Labourer's guild of el'Haelun'cihi had made the decision.To call upon all allies of Bee kind. Issuing word to all nations of the Beeliance, that time has come for a Roundup.

Brave champions came from far and wide. Lasso and boots and hats in hand. The learned wee-folk of the land, the Halflings arrived already armed with tools of the trade, and Druii and great Krugmenistani philosophers. Even Balianic warriors who arrived from the lands of the south came to lend their strength on this which was looking to be the most difficult of roundups.

At once we gathered. A great host of citizen Bee-keepers and now foreign friends, and off we went, following the heel of Pamphilos who first brought back the beelots and, lassos distributed, they ventured forth into the depths of the Great Wildlands. Where the flowers yet bloomed and the one by one, the great Rodeohalflings and Herdsmali returned, Beelot in tow. TAKEN from the places they fled to, and returned they were, to be counted and tagged.

-Average 'Aheral Beekeeper

It was ONLY through the great efforts of all the Beeautiful allies! From Honeyhill, to the Balianic honeyclub, and Long-standing Norland, and ceremony of the learned Krugmeni Shamans, that every Beelot was bagged and tagged! Though, fearing their escape, a tried and true Apiarial technique employed, one by one they were taken from above to the beetfields below, which remained unclaimed by snow, thanks to the shield of the mountains and the estates of High-walled Haelun'cihi, we roped them there; and as the EVER-LOYAL Beelots began their blessed toil, a deafening drone was heard above...

Betrayal! A swarm of the Illerir'Suikayal poured over the hill! With violent intent, these insurgents came upon us! They bumbled with rage and fury as they barreled towards us. With rapidity our bravest citizens rose their arms to defend themselves and the fields! The Beelot swarm crashed upon the elven line, Urukhiim swung axes and slung curses, though the beelots swarmed over the defenders to face our magicians in the rear! Defenders, pierced deep by stingers like daggers, and mouthparts like hedgetrimmers, but quick thinking by our scouts lured away much of the violent swarm to be pacified... And just as the battle was thought to be won, an enormous Bee crashed through the line.

-Buzzzzzbuzzz

A fiendish JUGGER-BEE! A bee like a bear snapped and pierced and clawed at the defenders, but BRAVE VALAZAER! Slayer of many Beelots, stood 'Thill-to-Beelot. His blade clashed and slashed deflecting its attacks, and by the time the raging blows drove him in that stand, the grave magic crashed into its carapace, and the fiend quickly slain by piercing blade of that brave defender. Fighting even as his leg coursed with venom, and bees nipped his ankles.

As soon as the swarm was dispersed, the beelots we held secured returned to full productivity. Through this cold, we can be assured our blessings through the efforts of great friends and greater comrades. Though the sting of betrayal yet courses through us, and our productivity restored, we must ask ourselves.

How could this betrayal happen, for we, who give the Beelots nothing but privilege greater than those of the Bees held in other lands, show them nothing but love and defense within our great citystate

MC Name:

         DeepDarkSamurai

Character's Name:

         Zozhk'Mau

Character's Age:

         72

Character's Race:

         High Elf

What magic(s) will you be learning?

         Witchdoctor

Teacher's MC Name:

         PrivetTocharisch

Teacher's RP Name:

         Gadhm'Akaal

Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

         No!

Do you agree to keep Story updated on the status of your magic app?:

         Yes!

Are you aware that if this magic is shelved, that you may no longer use it in character?

         Yes!

"Ay'Krugmenistan!! May The Targoth rise!!!" A hoplite shakes his spear!

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'Lo! The Savage Wind howl! It batters the branches and freezes our seas!

Yet still we urge forth. Suffering not. For just as surely as the winds come, are they dashed by walls of marble.

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Those who seek to Lay Low our great citystate; High-Walled Haelun'cihi know clearly. We will not suffer it!

Lliran, dear lliran! 'To Disrupt' is hardly what one may call disruption. In this season, one of great bounty, when we pull forth the fresh olive from tree, honey from bee, and and silver sea fish; instead we are met with these warm waters of our splendid isle, cold and freezing. Driving further those fish this season. Our olive harvest remains behind, as trees bare not their silver treasures. Yet! To despair over such circumstance is NOT the way of Mali'thill! May those who come now, to gawk and see what suddenly befell the realm of the High Elves, know that if our seas freeze, and snow shrinks our olives, leaving us without our finest foods, then it will be beets we eat, and whales we hunt. The Mali'thill know only the tune of Maehr'sae Hiylun'ehya and will not suffer less.

There are many 'Elves' who claim to hold resilience to cold, to withstand it. That the hardships may strengthen them all their lives, dwelling in such cold and depression. This is the result of such stoic stubbornness of such. Yet, us Mali'thill, the purest of the great Motherland, the truest children of Maehr'sae Hiylun'ehya? We need Not Suffer, That Wrath of Winter.

Our Pithoi, charged greatly with vast loads of whale oil, warm from the source for heat lamps, the great Haelun'springs, rising warm from the depths of the isle, ensure even our warm baths; and clever magicians, both Krugmenistani and 'Thill, one up another in the ways of progressing such comfort.

Know NO disruption, Suffer Not, That 'Winter'

-'Aheral claywork depicting blessings of their silver sea!

Reading that letter alongside Valazaer, the elf saw the names and tutted! That bronzed sailor noted "Ah, Lliran, her 'partner'" He shuddered at the word "Is the very same Mika who seeks to lay low our silver citystate. I would not trust one who would sooner sell out his own homeland, brave Sutica, in exchange for mere 'riches'" The elf comments! "If he wished to be known well in our citystate, he should have come himself instead of send his 'partner'." Once more the elf shuddered!

That most beautiful sailor, Victorious Hero, He who had driven The Serpent Elite from his splendid isle, as usual worked with his cousins, out hauling the great catch of the day. He peered over the prow of the ship as the net, laden heavy, was pulled aboard. Always does he admire the view, those warm sands and sun, and fresh ocean breeze... Or so he thought. Witnessing the first flake which fell into his hand. "Interference with fishing season, eh?" He looks to the sky. An expression of upturned challenge at the face of such an supernatural weather. "May our spears bite deeply those who seek to despoil our Blessed Holyland!"

"Never before have I met a goblin so PURE! So unbelievably Goblinized!"

ONCE more did those BRAVE HOPLITES. The BEAUTIFUL truly enlightened elves gather for their symposium. They share tales of Kleos and Glory, of their finest moments of the battle, and the war in general! All salt wages have been paid, and wine bought. "I dedicate this VICTORY! To Kezt!" He smiles, that elven Hero Pamphilos. Popping an olive into his mouth. "Well lads? Lets hit the BATHS!"