Watyll
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Posts posted by Watyll
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Kknotos sheds a tear of grief, as he thought Ikuras was going to be causing this.
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((Awesome.))
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Alirya sighs
"Perhaps it is time to show these beast what an academy of master mages can do.. How tedious"she mummers while cleaning the blood from her toolsUnbeknownst to the mage, a figure behind her heard the comment. The figure smiles, walking away from the site of the grisly crime of a body half eaten, with a four pointed star. When out of sight, the figure removed his stone ring, revealing himself to be the lich, Kraal.
"I do love a challenge…" he states, going to report to his master.
~~~
Weeks later, charred remains are found outside the Raine academy. Nailed to the ground is an unrecognizable corpse. The corpse's hands and feet are impaled, so that each limb is 90 degrees from the next. Trailing from each limb to the next is a thick trail of blood, forming the unmistakeable outline of a four pointed star. Loosely placed on top of the body is a wooden signpost, which reads "Alirya Darkwood. We do not take insults lightly."
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The assembled clerics may hear news of the abduction of two more mages, in much the manner as Hosper.
http://www.lordofthecraft.net/topic/113997-and-so-fear-took-them/#entry1084906
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Kknotos hears of his apprentice's handywork, and smiles slightly in approval.
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((Can you please do a TL;DR at the bottom))
((Ask me in Skype pleb))
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He had not always been alone. Where now there was hate, once there was love. Memories were all that remained. A light touch upon his cheek. Lips that met his. She had loved flowers. The first time they had courted was in a field of flowers, outside Salvus as he recalled. He was merely a budding electromancer then. She was his one and only love. They may have had a child, once. Why then, could he not remember her face? Why did the one he love escape him so!
~~~
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xFtKyHZroNc
The city of Lin'ame was quiet. Far too quiet. All those who would normally frequent it felt something strange in the air. All animals had fled the area, running from something unseen. Not a whisper of a breeze blew through the area. It was if nature had been frozen in time. Druid Ouity stands in the center of the city, looking about for what could have possibly warranted this. Other folk gather around him, wondering, thinking. Then, a force begins to pound upon their skull. Blood pulses as their hearts beat faster and faster. With a sudden concussive shriek, a massive rip in the fabric of space opens up directly behind Ouity, blasting all of the assembled elves off their feet.
The rip expels a massive amount of wind, uprooting plants, ripping people off their feet. Ouity falls to the ground as three figures step out from the rift. Two are hooded, well disguised. One is recognizable to some as Siggourdnbad. The other is unidentifiable. The third figure hangs back while the other two run forward, his perfectly white eyes studying all around him. He smiles. Ouity uses his staff to pull himself to his feet, and draw his sword. Siggourdnbad let's loose an icicle, evoked from the void. It rapidly shoots forward towards Ouity, who quickly calls upon the aspects. From his stave a small limb shoots out, catching the icicle in midair. Ouity sees the other figure trying to circle around him, and his eyes narrow. Vines whip around the hooded man, and the frail figure yells in surprise as he is hoisted into the air. Unfortunately, the other figure has been given a chance to summon yet more water, and now a rushing wave crashes towards the lone druid. The citizens of Lin'ame can only watch: the wind from the portal is just too strong, though it seems not to affect those in combat. The wave crashes over Ouity, slamming him against the trunk of a tree. He groans, as Siggourdnbad's hood begins to leak a blackened mist, which trails down to his hands as he steps closer to Ouity. As he begins to mutter an unholy spell in that blackest of languages, his vocalization is cut short. Vines wrap around his neck. His air supply cut off, Siggourdnbad slowly goes unconscious. Satisfied, Ouity stands, readying to face the final mage. The man with the white eyes stands in front of the portal, watching. He slants his head to the side in curiosity as Ouity begins to call once more upon the power of the aspects. Suddenly, Ouity feels an intense pain in his head. His jaw drops and his eyes roll back into his head. The great heirophant turns to the side, watching as the man he had grabbed by the ankles with vines earlier holds a hand to his temple. A mind mage. Ouity passes into darkness, his last sight being the vines releasing both men.Kknotos smiles as the mind mage does his part, then his grin grows wider as his follower lifts up Ouity with telekinesis. He frowns with disapproval at Siggourdnbad, then goes to pick him up as well. As he walks back to the rift with the other cultist and Ouity in tow, he hums to himself before reciting:"Savurr-e daz’abovul varrik nal’sek valasga-serthekhnaSavurr-e daz’sprek varrik nal’sek zpekar-qarilSavurr-e daz’preda varrik nal’sek fikt-sisemUndere yunya agonsh-talsh eg dakzolarrg frerhur."The group steps through the rift, and disappears, leaving only a burning outline of a four pointed star.~~~
Buubztik'Lur meditates in the sands of the orcish desert. Surrounded by the sounds of steel on steel, he is calmed. The orcs were at their daily practice for warfare. It was an every day routine. Every day was another battle, to an orc. Raised in a harsh environment and forged to be the ultimate warrior, none were better at splitting skulls and ripping flesh than orcs. But it took practice. Just like shamanism. Few understood the art, and fewer still outside of the orcs. They did not know the true power of the spirits, as Buubztik did. Buubztik had been receiving odd visions from the spirit world lately. Warnings of an ancient evil known as Ikuras, and images of a red four pointed star. Though he had heard of the abduction of Hosper Blackthorn, nothing else had yet transpired. He wondered why the spirits would contact him about something not at all affecting the sons of Krug. All of a sudden, voices from another plane screamed "Shaman! They are here!" with a loud crashing boom that concussed across the desert, a rip in space opened up, blasting out wind.A wailing shriek sounded within as three figures stepped out. One was a graven, known as the Captain Condemned. Second came the lich, Kraal. Buubztik snarled, Kraal was supposed to be an ally. Such betrayal was the most dishonorable of acts. The third figure was a normal human, but his eyes were pure white. This one looked around, studying the environment he had stepped into. The lich rushed forward, summoning a fireball. Buubztik let out a roar and called to the spirits. They answered him, and the very sand sprang to life under the shaman's command. An earthen wave crashed into Kraal, snapping both of his legs like twigs. The lich fell, shrieking in frustration. Unfortunately, the graven had closed the distance. It locked Buubztik with a cold stare. Buubztik felt his body freeze. Fear penetrated him, he could not move. Such cowardice in an orc was dishonorable! A prisoner within his own body, the shaman broke out in a sweat as the graven came closer. Furious at his own emotions, a flame grew within Buubztik's soul. It grew larger, until he let out a shattering roar. The noise shocked him out of his petrified state, and he reached to his waist for the bag of gold dust he now carried with him everywhere. He had fought these 'gravens' before. Once more summoning the spirits, the gold came under his control. Forming into a hardened spike, it flew straight and true directly into the graven's forehead. The graven let out a cry and vanished, decorporealizing. Buubztik nodded, satisfied, turning to the man in black in front of the portal. Then he remembered something. Where was the lich? He had never fought one before. A small touch on his ankle made him look down. Directly into the flaming eyes of Kraal."Vireundzord al’gathan zu’Ikuras, o’kree do calfax.”The lich rasped from his tongueless maw. Buubztik suddenly was taken by mad visions as his mind, quite frankly, snapped. He could not see, he could not focus. He was not. The lich picked up one of his own shattered femurs and whacked Buubztik over the head with it, and the shaman fell into darkness.Kknotos watched as the orcs battered themselves against the barrier formed by the great wind. He smiled, taking a deep inhalation. Their bloodlust was a form of insanity, and he loved it. Some of them roared and snorted, frothing at the mouth. They would not give one of their own without a fight. Kknotos walked over, grabbing Buubztik by the arms and dragging. Kraal crawled after him, and master, lich, and shaman passed into the rift. It closed, and the orcs rushed forward, eager to deal punishment to the pinkie who assaulted one of their own on Krug's holy land. All they found was a crimson four pointed star.
Both of the peeps abducted gave me their permission. Event time and place for their rescue yet to be decided. Good luck, and I hope everyone has fun with this!5 -
i felt myself sprouting another chromosome as i read this
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It seems that the council of clerics continues to progress without incident. Many bring up points, which are then shot down. These give rise to new points, which in turn give rise to new points. The cycle continues. Such discussion is usual at meetings like these. Certainly, without interruption, the Clerics would eventually reach a suitable solution. Indeed, the future looks brighter as the council convenes. Some speak of reorganizing the order. Others speak of disbanding the order altogether. Yet others merely wish for the disbanding of ranks and titles, letting all clerics work as equals. Each point has it's drawbacks and advantages. Yet- the clerics had forgotten one thing. Their enemies. Indeed, one of their most chief of enemies had yet to be mentioned at the meeting. This, of course, was not to be stood for. As the clerics continued to debate and discuss, a slight pressure begins to form within their minds. A tingle, as if something dark were approaching. A tainted something. With a sudden tearing sound and a shrieking sound piercing the air, a black and red portal opens up on the far side of the wall, near where Hosper Blackthorn sits. The wailing shriek continues, taking the clerics off guard.
Wind and tendrils rip out of the dread aberration, forcing any that try to approach it back. Hosper stands to his feet, summoning a mighty force of light worthy of an Itharel's power. Unexpectedly, two Dread Knights storm out of the portal, recognizable as Dread Knight Scylla and Dread Knight Vaurca. The Itharel lets loose his mighty holy magic, stunning the Knights and bringing them to their knees. Then a third figure steps forth from the portal. Though the winds blast from the rip, his robes do not even move. His eyes, lacking pupils, latch onto Hosper and begin to trail a black mist. Hosper's in return begin to shine a golden white. In the Itharel's hand begins to form a golden globe. From the other creature's eyes black mist trails, wrapping around his arm down to his hand, in which a blackened obsidian spike begins to form. Hosper unleashes his light, brightly shining eyes narrowing. The creature replies by simply shooting forth the spike, as if it were an arrow loosed in flight. The light knocks the creature to his knees, and he shrieks in pain and tears at his pupiless eyes. In turn, Hosper convulses on the floor, seeing mad visions. The spike has pierced him just above the arm, before dissolving. The two Dread Knights move into action, Dread Knight Scylla grasping Hosper and throwing him over his shoulder, Dread Knight Vaurca rapidly helping the figure of their wounded director to his feet. They race to the portal as the clerics move from their stunned state and connect to their Patron. Hosper and Scylla disappear within, but the creature turns back to the assembled clerics and recites.
"Savurr-e daz'abovul varrik nal'sek valasga-serthekhna
Savurr-e daz'sprek varrik nal'sek zpekar-qaril
Savurr-e daz'preda varrik nal'sek fikt-sisem
Undere yunya agonsh-talsh eg dakzolarrg frerhur."
The creature is then carried through the portal by the Dread Knight as the clerics let loose their holy light. The rip in space then closes, disappearing as if it were never there. The light hits against the wall behind it. All that is left is the bright red outline of a four pointed star.
[7/24/14 4:21:47 PM] Watyll: We should have cultists abduct Hosper in the middle of that clerical meeting on the forums
[7/24/14 4:21:48 PM] Watyll: hue[7/24/14 4:22:11 PM] Evan Hospur: Go for it :PThus begins a new event. Hopefully this weekend you gents can try and rescue papa Hosper :)3 -
Along the road to the elven city, one would find a standing stone. A monolith. It's surface is smooth, almost polished. One might wonder, where did it come from? It certainly was not there yesterday. Upon closer inspection of the smooth rock, one would find markings etched into it. They are confusing, and if one would stare at them for such a time, their eyes would begin to hurt… That is, if those eyes were untainted. There are those that can read this stone, read it without it harming their eyes. It is as clear to them as if they were reading common! Such beings are not ones that anybody would enjoy running into on a dark night. Or in any scenario for that matter. The markings are in al'Roshak-Durngo. The Black Script. Any that can speak al'Tahrn-Durngo, the Black Language, can read al'Roshak-Durngo.
Basically I got bored and decided to play around with the Black Language and hugo's awesome font for it. So I wrote up a little poem/prophecy. I know that the number of people speaking the language is growing, so I have a little challenge here. Anybody that can translate this poem into English using the font made by hugo and the actual Black Language thread wins a fabulous prize. The rules are simple.
1. You must have a character that speaks the Black Language. This requires following the rules for being able to speak the language in the first place.
2. You must respond with your translation on this topic, in rp. Recite it to a crowd or something, or a lullaby to your evil offspring brood. Idk.
The prize, my dear friends, is that if you win, I'll add either your character's name or your mc name to the Black Language thread and make it so that it means "Sexy Beast" in Black Language. Tell me you don't want that. Translate away!
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Kknotos mutters
"But if he's insane… How is he not speaking in the Black Language? Tis a fake."
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This hasn't been updated since Asulon, why is it still pinned
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When crafting iron armor, here's a big I found. If I want to craft some leggings, for instance, I need a pair of leather leggings. If I have more than one pair in my inv, it will eat all of them when I press craft, even though it should only take one.
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Urk’badurz-nurian, nuzk-sek vaethrak-tashnal
Urk’badurz-nurian, nuzk-sek vaethrak-tashnal
Well done, my young apprentice.
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Is it sad I want to read that series?
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he's pretty cool i guess and doesn't abuse people for personal gain
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This is something I've been thinking about for a while, and I'm not certain if this is the appropriate forum for it.
Basically, if one group hates a particular race, should it be allowed for said group to pursue a path of genocide for this race? Would genocide or exterminatus be an acceptable casus beli/warclaim result? I assume it would be by way of war claim, slowly conquering each settlement of the target race until all of them are cornered into one area. Then that final war claim would destroy the city and presumably end the race, it would be a PK for all of that race.
Now for the question- what if said race were to have people living outside the city or nation? Well- that's inevitable. I suppose the remaining members of the race would be hunted down, but likely wouldn't agree to the PK that would have been forced on those in the city. At this point, the race would be locked. One wouldn't be allowed to apply for it anymore. Only in game reproduction would be allowed to produce more. This is just my take on it though.
I don't personally have an opinion on this one way or another, merely curious as to what you all think in concerns to IC genocide. I think if the Orcs were wiped out, there'd be a lot of scary stories told to the children of other races. If elves were wiped out, there'd be a lot of fairy tales of them. Elven books would become highly prized. For dwarves, dwarven weaponry and ruined cities would be a marvel for future generations. If it were humans, just the cities would survive, I think.
So the final question is, should genocide be allowed In Character as a war claim result or reason.
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Kknotos was looking forward to coming until Tahariae popped up.
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I'd love to see Asulon again.
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Well done!
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...
On it.
that was vaq's avatar for the entire time he was on the server but +1 good effort
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As the cancer eating lotc, I approve this riot.
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The Ruination Of A Quandary
in Athera Roleplay Archive
Posted
Or will it...
Kknotos sat upon his chair within the ruined village, looking about him. He vaguely remembered waking up at the Cloud Temple. Kknotos had never understood why the monks healed beings both good and evil. It was a puzzlement to him. He could only attribute it to the foolishness of magic users of the light. While he sat upon his chair, he knew that his plans had not gone as he had anticipated. The Dread Lord had informed him of that.
~~~
It had all begun when Kknotos kidnapped three mages of great power. Ouity, Buubztik'Lur, and Hosper. Each from a different group. Druids, Shamans, and the Clerical Order. He had spirited them away to a dark tower, chaining them so that they could not escape. About the tower he had built a massive maze, and within the maze, arenas. Kknotos summoned his allies, and cordially sent out invitations to the groups to meet at the Cloud Temple, where they would be led to his quandary. Twas Sprat that met them there.
Sprat guided the mages to the quandary, and at the entrance it was Kknotos that met them. He spoke to them and welcomed them to his abode. Then instructed them to send five of their best into their quandary. The druids had only sent two, which made Kknotos chuckle inwardly. He knew what waited for them within. Kknotos allowed them into their separate passageways. Instead of making it to the center of the tower, each mage found himself facing another mage across a clearing. Shamans faced Clerics, Clerics faced Druids, Druids faced Shamans. Kknotos stepped atop the tower and addressed them, as the doors to each arena slammed shut.
"The man or woman in front of you is the man or woman you are to kill. The last man standing gets his leader back." Kknotos could barely contain his laughter. Each of these mages claimed to be pure of heart, truly good. That all crumpled before the animalistic urges to kill. This was truly what Ikuras was about! This was his masters work! The druids were killed quickly, by an orc and a cleric. Then it was brutal fighting in the pits as the clerics and orcs met in mortal combat. Match after match was fought. Meanwhile at the front gate, the stench of death rolled over the area.
A gigantic ghoul lumbered up, smashing through the wall to get at those who were left outside the den of confusion. Following it were dark mages, necromancers, and Dread Knights. There was nothing the few left at the front could do, and they were slaughtered wholesale. After that, the Dread Knights were set to guard the prisoners within the tower, Ouity, Hosper, and Buubztik. Meanwhile, something had gone wrong in the pits. A horn sounded out from the arena containing the rex, Grogmar Gorkil. Shrieks and hissing sounded from the east, and Kknotos turned with a furrowed brow. On the horizon appeared a scaddernak, Lurgoi.
Lurgoi smashed into the quandary walls, scooping up Grogmar and his companion Strigz. They stormed through the maze. Kknotos summoned up a strike of lightning, shocking Grogmar into unconsciousness. The lightning spasmed through Lurgoi as well, weakening it. Unfortunately for Kknotos, Grogmar had got off a shot with his crossbow, which struck him right in the shoulder. Kknotos toppled off the wall, crawling away. Luckily enough, it seemed that the Dread Lord, Verin, had slain the dread Lurgoi. But the bad luck was not over for the tainted ones.
A boom of sound and a wash of golden light announced the arrival of Ivanus, the Itharel. Kknotos stumbled up to him, and looked at him suspiciously. The Itharel made a deal with him, agreeing to heal the wound in his shoulder if Kknotos would allow Hosper to go free. Kknotos agreed. The arrow was yanked out of his shoulder. The Itharel then promptly whacked Kknotos on the side of his head, knocking him unconscious. During this time, it seemed a fight had broken out in the tower and Buubztik, now insane, came up behind Kknotos and ripped his throat out.
~~~
After he had died, Kknotos had been informed that two Dread Knights escaped, along with the clerics and the orcs. Buubztik, still affected by insanity, rampaged about, killing his own kind. It seemed a sort of clerical sentinel had been busted free, and was keeping Hosper alive. You see, Kknotos had poisoned each of the mages. Ouity and Buubztik were now dead from it, and Hosper was now being only kept alive by the power of the Sentinel of Tahariae. He couldn't even use magic. Kknotos lets out a laugh as he shuffles in his hands the crystals filled with the arcane energy of the three mages. Did they honestly think he would invite them to his hideaway so that the three could be rescued? He had gotten what he wanted. Evil may not ever win, but nor does it ever completely lose.