hotbox_monk

MORIARTY MORAY DOUGLAS BRANDISHES HIS BLADE AS HE WOULD SET OUT IN PURSUIT OF THE INVADER SCUM!

“I am woman.” Remarks a fierce lady like figure

And so, a certain Oracle of the Kharasi would begin to revel as he heard the news “Shwarma and hookah to celebrate these glorious tidings!”

Why aren’t you Story Admin? Are you enjoying your new line of work/career? Do you miss being Inquisitor Eternal? Are you trying to run some VR games soon???!!!

A certain Oracle foresaw the raze of The Stone Tower , but fire was not in his vision! Perhaps the fire came as a unforeseen idea from a bewildered Urguani Legionnaire. THE GODS SMILED FAVORABLY UPON THE TRIPARTITE.

[OOC] MC Name - hotbox_monk Discord - hotbox_monk#8587 [IC] I, Rhaezaiil pledge my weapon of craft to be used within the tournament of Almaris. I represent the nation of N/A / Or am a lone Blacksmith. My blood is that of Doomforged and my weapon shall represent as such. I will not issue any punishment or harm to Sir Reginald Persepolis Montgomery the Fourth if such an incident arises at the tournament. I bequeath my tournament weapon to be under his jurisdiction if dismantled or broken during the processions. If any bodily harm comes to my form, or happens in response to my weapon. I shall ignore such incidents and allow for this tournament to continue. I shall promise to not use the devious acts of the arcane to influence my weapon or the tournament myself, for doing so shall have myself removed from the contest or recycled into different bodily fluids. Signed, Rhaezaiil Doomforged

The Eye of The East As I lay there in contemplation about the next life I begin to feel a blistering cold creep up my back. I shuffle myself in my death bed and squeal as the pain surges through me. Suddenly my thoughts were no longer mine and the dream became my reality. I close my eyes sadly and embrace my new eternity; The sand was warm, not scorching against my skin. I looked around the vast reach of dunes and stared at the silhouette of a lone figure walking towards me. The figure got closer and I could see that it was the sky, bleak and cloudy. So void of color, just swirls of wheat. As the figure got closer I slowly realized the sky was encompassed by robes that ended and dived into the sand. As this colossal figure bound to both fire and shadow reached me I felt everything that tethered me here take me away once again. Her putrid breath is all that I remember from a time of yore in a land where the living broke bread with dead men. If not for that beast I would still have my sight I thought to myself as I began to stir awake. As I began to traverse above deck from my quarters the sounds of a bustling harbor began to fill my ears as sailors and birds made unintelligible, yet harmonious noise. I hadn’t the slightest of clues on what to do in this new world let alone where to begin. I inhaled sharply and began to disembark from the ship I arrived on. A reverent man of rare grace has taken me as his ward. And, this last year since I last wrote to you I have learned much of myself and this land. I come as the Eye of The East: The Oracle of Yulthar. I have seen he who will bring about the land promised. The divine has been reborn from the ashes to one day again restore his promise of light. Nothing wielding this end will stop. No longer are we fated to wander lost. Within the dunes lies the key and it is there I stand to guide those who might lend an ear. The Infernal is reborn across the crimson seas, it has an errand of fire and ice. The Dragon has awoken from his sleep and if slumber again he will bring the savage pacts of war with him. The King has left his honeyed peace, beyond the feathered shores, to quell a rage barbarous and unforgiving. The Behemoth , gored by hunger and ravage regards your lands as a feast he and his kind might leave. The Oracle will convene the Court of Remembrance, once a year comes this place of pilgrimage but what grave price shall you pay? Dear Reader, I lost my mind. I’ve dreamt again. The sands will swallow these hallowed grounds. From this seed, divinity was born. Divine is He to wield Light. The dunes are without borders and without a throne , but these things have those who argue for them, bringing kingdoms and a sword in the dark. And their battles shall shake the sky and their armies will march against the toil and treasure you covet …. Within the shadows and sands, this is not a place of simple riches, gains, and losses. Survival is required for all. To tread the dunes with breath in your lungs is to be granted mercy amongst mercies. As bold acts or armed conflict risks dry gullets. For each will lead to fate. But fate is per chance and the tide waits for all.

The Oracle's Sight He stared out unto the vast expanse of the dunes as they shimmered and glistened as if what he had witnessed was from another world. The golden landscape crested until the Sun’s shine met the windswept sands. They danced with a certain fortune in this life. Twirling into great simooms from which they would gracefully return asunder and back unto the dunes. If he hadn't had the cost of life to fulfil, he may have been able to remain there, awestruck. Though, consternation struck him true as the murder of crows grew almost abstract to the scene. Had he realised them the entirety of his being here-? Thoughts soon left his mind as he was plunged back, asunder the depths of some stygian cavern. Each breath he drew seemingly proved to be the only evidence of sound in this abyssal reach. Until the incandescent light began to crack and penetrate the shroud with a thunderous whoosh. He looked all around, but all he could hear was wretched chanting all around him, as if the voices were calling something from the heavens above. Light shone through the veil with every continued verse, and it struck upon him like lightning being heaved by an irate being of the cosmos. The voices turned from low chants to a deafening pitch from which the scene would draw to a close and he would once again be plunged back asunder. The great Empire will soon be supplanted for a small place, which will soon begin to flourish. A trifling place of trivial area in the middle of which he will come to lay down his sceptre. Petty qualms rendered to none in His promised land. In His promised land, sanguine paradise.

+1 because I also member those times :) also legumes are cool

A de Sola smiles the Sun’s smile from the Heaven’s above.

I really appreciate this piece of lore. +1

A Doomforged remembers once when he had expected his kin to follow him into battle against the same regime they now oppose. Facing the same treatment and divorce as he had. Was he to trust these cousins of his based on their word if they could not offer such in return? More pondering of the orb would be required before a conclusion came to be.

MC Name: Hotbox_monk RP Name: Muhammad bin Saud Discord: hotbox_monk#8587 Skills/Reason for joining: Mushallah.

A lone Dwarf has a seizure from the terrible formatting in each comment.

An old grumbling and rather short black Dwed made his way to his chambers. There, he would rest his noggen against the bear skin rug before the hearth fire. A sharp exhale escaped him as his smoldering gaze wandered and his mind pondered. The vision he had saw of Urguan had become to set into stone. The Frostbeards would have assumed total control of the State and it’s Powers and that would be all that was written for his home. No longer did the great defenders of His Kingdom stand on their own soil, they were divorced for winning a war? His questions merely turned to more questions and only one answer remained in his mind. He coughed exuberantly as blood splattered against the ashen palm of his hand and embers, heat distortions and smoke alike came in company as plumes from his maw.

A thing laments; It then shudders with a shriek for no apparent reason after brekkkie.

A Herald-In-Retirement gasps!

Marcian of The Mud grumbled thereafter downing the contents of whatever wretched brew that was in the tankard. He offered a slight nod in regards to that of the mustache’d man beside him @KBR. “Where is the solace?” He said with a scoff followed up by a sharp inhale as his gaze bounced to and fro from his tankard to the exit unto the depths of the sewers. “S’pose I’ll take watch tonight river-side.”

This hurts me.

Moriarty Moray, a cousin to the Douglas brothers, remained seated alongside Leanan. A few certain grumbles and low howls escapes his ginger maw “DAELAND!” He exclaimed before his noggen soon met the countertop, thus finally succumbing to his intoxication.

A son of Sola would ruminate on this matter within his forlorn cottage within the lands of Savoy. He would take to the side of this Philip who lay claim to the seat most high. “The Weak Should Fear The Strong.” He said to himself whilst he prepared for travel to San Luciano. Such words hadn’t been spoken since the days of Dour Watch.

Ukita traversed the dunes adorned in sanguine garments. Such a feat he had seen through time and time again in a land where East Meets West. His pale gaze kept to the sands beneath his sandals. Each print left by every step washing away with the breeze that accompanied. What he said was incomprehensible, but if one were to listen close they might here chimes of song. It was in this land where Man was not meant to tread that he would find those he would suffer with.