Volutional

The Death of a Captain So his time came, Captain Rogash the Red, of the Damned Queen. His time came slowly, and crept upon him like a snake in the desert. Like a crab on the beach; Slowly, and in plain sight. Old age is something that generally doesn't meet an Orc, they usually die in the process of battle. Rogash was just that good you see, he had a tendency to .... 'escape' a lot. He sat in his chair, upon his wandering ship, his crew vibrantly coloured in clothing, but just as old as he. And it was there he died, quietly in his cabin. This ship was not one that was full of hatred and mutiny. They cared for each other, and each other cared for him. During his dying days. He wasn't officially the Captain, either. But they let him keep the title, and the hat, for he has worn it as a symbol of his pride and prowess in battle as a Pirate of the West, East, North and South seas of Asulon, Elysium and Kalos alike. In fact, his ship made it out of the storms of Elysium by absolute chance, as he followed a passing Lysistratan ship, which he swore was being followed by a real dragon, and not the one that emblems his bowsprit on his drake-shaped ship, that actually breathed fire. His ship is now lost from memory, mind and concern. His crew likely camped in Booty Bay until their riches run as low as their grip to reality did. But nevertheless. He was now free from all his chains, bonds and ties to reality, life and the chores of earning that little bit of swag. But he was truly the first, and now likely the last, and best pirate that ever lived. 'Rest in pieces, peace and all that' Said his coffin, pushed out to sea. Maybe his journey is over, but it may also just be beginning. Heave ho, light the cannons, Watch their corpses fly, Bread, forks and knives we fire, Ever ere they die. Captain and Pirate, serenade in motion Cutlass in hand, pirate and ocean...

Idriel Nightscar peers upon the message. She then turns on her heel, thinking to herself; If it requires a fifth of my concentration to decipher, it is not worth my time.

Dri'Quorak Dunjal grumbles as he notices this. He lays a note underneath, clearly formal and clearly from the Aelkos of War himself, with the blue trident apparent. Dear Rüthar, It has come to my attention that one would ask for training. To do so, maybe it is actually best to attend the training sessions hosted by Quorak, the Aelkos of War. If you are not going to attend such gatherings, or at least acknowledge their existence, then Althran shall not be teaching in the name of the Dra'Metza. If you would like to pursue your wishes, and for Althran to teach you, you will be required to attend these training classes at least one a fortnight, since they are mandatory for your success in the survival trials. - Signed, Dri'Quorak Dunjal, Tultelkos (( For OOC benefit, these training sessions are on Wednesday and Friday at the designated times on the many topics scattered in this section. One was yesterday, in which nobody but Meguzara attended. Sadface. ))

Idriel Nightscar grins from afar, her plan having succeeded. "Long burn Malinor."

Name: Dri'Quorak of Karakatua Race(Applicable if not Mali): Kha'Tigrasi of the Kharajyr Time Desired: [ Any day 5PM GMT - > 10PM GMT ]

The owner of the poster looks upon the scene, a grin upon her face, her spiked helmet, covered by her thick black hood, weighing on her head. Distance is great enough for her to conceal herself on the cliff side, silent as a mouse and quick as a fish, she waits and listens. "Foolish are they to believe such to be true. Let Malinor burn, it shall be a good thing. But I do hope in the end they realize that their forces were pushed into a neighboring nation all because of a damned wall. To think that I, red and furious, would march single handed into their castles and traps? I would then be the fool. ​But to deceive and to conjure, I would be so bold as to say I am clever. For now I can observe as my greatest hatred in this world is now crushed with sweet content. Burned, annihilated. But to be forgiven for my deceptive ways I would then have to be. For the Human's power can stretch only so far to my borders, my walls, and my people. Whom I care little about anyway. But it is mine, which is the point. For Malinor to be crushed, I am to involve myself with the smallest of movements. A simple poster, threats, and mists of suspicious have now been my power here, but in the future a new face and a new colour shall follow in my wake. I am still destruction incarnate, to them. To myself, and to the gods. But I do not trust that these goals are just mine, so I shall sit and watch as they unfold in my sight." Of course, she wouldn't say this to anybody, she merely thought it. And it changes nothing, for nobody heard it. So deceived, they should stay.

Upon the burning of the one poster, as previously warned, the pre-prepared hundred now fill it's place. This time, they litter the entirety of the wall, inside and out. Each one hand written, and each one with a similar message. But all marked with the one symbol; The night shall weigh heavily upon thee To depths unknown, and limits untold And when the screams hence cease All that you know will be covered in your blood

A large, thick poster is placed upon the sign that says "Anthos Highway" in the center of the tolling station where the Elven and Human roads split. It reads; Regarding your lovely extension, Oren Dear whom this may concern, I am not named, hereby wishing to put forward a list of ill content complaints that I have heard from both the Elven, and general Anthosian people alike. They are discontent with your wall, and I hope to have you know that if your walls upon the Anthos Highway are not removed, terrible things will happen to each and every guard that mans its posts. Death, illness, disease. All will spread like wildfire should our terms not be met. Nothing can withstand my wrath. Nobody shall repel my invasion. I am destruction incarnate, and you will heed my words. Tear this poster, and a hundred shall fill its place. Burn those, and it will begin. Ignore my demands, and I shall come upon thee like a thousand storms on a withered cliff-side. Signed, Un-named, girl who killed poor old Amfi'

Like I've said many times, making a soundtrack to words is difficult, and will demand a lot of time. A lot of time I don't have. If it was any old piece I could do it, but school, LoTC and OOC matters will have to come before this. Which will likely delay it as much as Diablo 3 was delayed. :p

Think of it like The Wandering Wizard's aid in Aegis. He was there, but his role was never initially to do the work, but muster others who are able to do it with him. It will be fun, I'm sure. :) Great concept, reminds me of Shyvana on League of Legends a little. In fact, I'm going to make my next soundtrack based on it..

Whilst in Kal'Azgoth, Idriel finds the piece of paper whilst strolling in the Dwarven Lands which she is fond of. She places a note beneath, with a big arrow pointing in the direction that the Mage's College is from Azgoth. (It is very close to Azgoth, however I cannot actually give full details because I can't get on at the moment. I think in accordance of the map, it's North, and the path is on the west of the mountain. Maybe this will help justify lack of actual direction with the arrow :) )

Great contribution, added and credited! I'll give their Nation leaders a quick PM.

The D'fu Blade As written in the libraries of Karakatua, in a small tome of weapon styles and techniques. Contents What is the D'fu Blade? What Kharajyr would use the D'fu Blade? Who invented, and how did they invent the D'fu Blade? Chapter One - What is the D'fu Blade? It is simply the 'Two' blade. Commonly known by well taught combatants, the D'fu blade is a two sided stick, trident or sword, in which is used in a sweep-by-sweep motion. The user will be required to have strength, but agility. This weapon is ideal for Leparda, though Tigrasi, Pantera and Cheetrah are free to use it and master it's skill and power. Uniquely, the D'fu Blade has two ends, which means twice the opportunity to strike the opponent. With each stroke the spiked, pointed, blunt or loose edges can hit with a usually accurate hit, which can leave the opponent crippled, and overwhelmed with it's speed and strength. Although not the most powerful weapon in regards of piercing (see Scimitar section) the D'fu Blade is highly regarded as the middle field for combatant masters to use in duels. It's strength, alongside it's maneuverability makes it a foe's deadly bane. Chapter Two - What Kharajyr would use the D'fu Blade? A good question, one asked by many. Simply put, Elders. But any Kha can pick up a stick and sharp both sides. Elders sometimes lack either strength or agility, and this weapon makes up for both at the same time, so it makes it easy for them to defend themselves, or use it against an opponent. The Tultelkos (since Anthos) has also decided to take up it's use, quoting Dri'Quorak of Anthos when saying 'It's beauty is recognized as a figurehead of my mighty Kha. Both sides sharp, and the middle at peace with either end.' Chapter Three - Who invented, and how did they invent the D'fu Blade? A simple Do' of old, experimental and unique in his stride. In Ancient Va'Khajrian, the D'fu Blade translates to 'Two-blade'. Which has simply pointed it's origin to the ancient Kharajyr of Asulon. It is thought that a small Do', who wanted to ensure his master's trust in his skill, made this weapon's uniqueness in hope to impress the Tultelkos of the Kha. He presented it before his Master, whom then relished in it's originality and spread news of it's grand design. Sometimes, Kha nowadays have a little folk tale about this young Kha. Once there was a Kha, young and bold He wanted to make a new idea, and so he then told To all and to many, his idea soon spread That his weapon would ensure, that apes will lay dead Which is a horridly violent folk-tale, but it remains one none-the-less.