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Found 39 results

  1. Melkor__

    A Prologue

    I've been flirting with the idea of doing my own writing thingy for a while but never did. I feel like I started this off really well and I feel like as time went on, the writing got more sloppy, but whatever. That's what running on 3 hours of sleep does to ya. Anyway I hope whoever reading this likes it or finds it interesting at the very least. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The day was young. The sun shined bright over the forest. The grass that day seemed as green as ever and it was complimented by the various patches of vibrant flowers that were scattered about the clearing. There was a light breeze and with that came the calm rustling of the trees above. The wildlife was also quite alive that day. Squirrels and chipmunks scurried about through the grass and a family of rabbits had lived in a patch of bushes towards the edge of the treeline. Deer would often pass through for short times to graze and sometimes the occasional fox would also arrive. The birds above sang in perfect harmony. Robins, sparrows, cardinals and bluejays alike. Far down at the end of the clearing, one could see a gap in the trees that would show a beautiful scene of the Silver City far in the distance with the ocean at its side. Gray stormclouds lingered over the ever so distant horizon. The day was young. The day was beautiful. "Illiran!" A voice called. Illiran turned around when his name was called. He was relatively young Mali'aheral, with long silver hair that was well kept. He had bright yellow eyes with a look of confidence in his eyes. The look that all young men have in their early years. He was in his early two-hundreds, relatively young for a high elf. (though of course nobody that looked at him would be able to tell the difference). "Maln needs you. Come home, brother." "No." Illiran shook his head and turned away at that "I'm not coming home. Not after that." "Illiran!" His brother shouted before he'd be interrupted "No, Haldir. Just leave me be. I'm not coming back." Haldir would step forward, putting his hand firmly on Illiran's shoulder. Illiran would pull away, turning around once more to face his brother. "Don't touch me." "You aren't well, Illiran... you've been angry.. reckless, even. It's frightening. We worry about you. Please come home, brother." "No." He'd pause "Now get away from me." "I can't do that..." Haldir takes a few more steps towards his brother. The tension between them at that would get even stronger between them. Illiran sighs, glancing briefly to the ground and then back up. His brother would begin to take strides towards him and Illiran would immediately begin to rush forward, plowing into his brother. Haldir was brought to the ground as Illiran would begin to pummel him. The two fought for a few moments, Illiran having taken nearly equal damage. Ultimately, Illiran had found himself looking down on Haldir with his hands gripped tightly around his throat. He struggled to make his brother, Illiran, let go. He clawed at his face. And then at the soft grass below him. Illiran's psychotic eyes stared down. Haldir's blood ran cold. He was no more. Haldir was never seen again. The last person having saw him was the very man that took his life. His brother, just before he let the corpse disappear into the ocean. Illiran left for the road that continued on away from the Silver City. After some time, minutes, maybe even hours, another young 'Aheral would cross his path. She was quite small with long white hair, except she had light blue eyes. Many small scars and lacerations would be scattered all over her face and her arms. She'd smile up to him "Hello!" she'd say. "Ah, hello.." Illiran would reply "Are the gates in the city open?" He asked, looking up to him. He wouldn't comment on her scarred appearance. "No, I don't think so." He shakes his head "You seek entry?" "I do." She'd say rather plainly, "Anyway.. I'm Ro'ya." "I'm.." He'd think ".. Melkor.." He'd mutter out, reluctantly, knowing he'd have to travel under a different name so that his family may not find him. "Good to meet you, Melkor!" He smiles once more "Anyway.. I could be going now." The elfess would nod and continue off down the road "Van'ayla!" Illiran nods and also goes his own separate way. The day was coming to an end now. The sun was setting. The clearing in the forest was silent now. No squirrels or chipmunks or rabbits now lingered there. The storm clouds over the sea now drew closer. The night was quiet. The night was cool. It was beautiful.
  2. Beamon4

    -=-Clan Irongut-=-

    The Ironguts The Ironguts are the longest living clan amongst the Dwedmar, being true Cave Dwarves at heart. Since the reign of Urguan, many Ironguts have held influential and vital roles, including Kings, Lords, and some even among the Order of Ascended. With these positions, the Ironguts have helped shape the world we see now. Through the forging of great weapons,the spelunking of cavernous ruins, and delving deep into the arcane, the Ironguts have been highly regarded among the Dwedmar. Ancient History of the Clan Modern History of the Clan Clan Government and Laws > The majority of decisions are made by the Clan Father, who solely holds the responsibility to lead the Clan. The Clan Father, chosen by a majority vote by the Elders of the clan, should represent the beliefs of the Clan. It is very rare, if ever, that a Clan Father is removed by the Elders. His word is the final say in matters > Elders of the Clan are elected by the Clan members themselves by popular vote. Elders are responsible for leading the clan members in place of the Clan Father is he cannot be there. > Elders are to reflect the Clan tenets directly onto the Clan members and beardlings. They also handle the initiation and teaching of magic to beardlings in the Clan. Clan Culture Forging of Weapons A tradition where those with the skills to use the Forge will often forge personal weapons. These weapons are a symbol of the Clansman's style of fighting and often have a symbol of the creator upon them somewhere, identifying them as that specific person. Many famous weapons are under possession of the clan, for example the famed blade of Dwain I Irongut, Mourgil, which is now in the hands of Balek Irongut. Beard Braiding Just having a simple beard is not enough for the Ironguts. The Clansmen can often be seen with braids in their beards. These can be as simple as forking the beard in two or as complex as weaving it into an intricate braid, some even weaving in gems, or adding rings of metal. The clan members grow their beards long and are careful not to burn them in the forge or get torn in battle. Magic Ironguts are known users of magic,and the only Dwarven Clan capable of learning Void Magic. Any member of the clan has the right to learn magic, so long as the member can follow the Clan rules. Those inclined to learn should first speak with an Elder in order to begin training. All apprentices are expected to be patient during the process of learning, as it is not a simple one. Magic is considered a sacred tradition within the Ironguts. Clan Crest The Ironguts often adorn a crest composed of a mug of ale and a sword to show that it was sent from an Irongut. We take pride in being Ironguts and won’t hesitate if we get a chance to show it! Clan Banners The Ironguts have always used their banners to mark their homes and Clan halls in the past. The banner is composed of our Clan crest and our Clan colors, silver and blue Clan Diplomacy Clan Ireheart: Friendly Clan Grandaxe: Friendly Clan Doomforge: Neutral Clan Frostbeard: Not Nice Clan Irongrinder: Neutral Clan Goldhand: Neutral Clan Treebeard: Neutral Clan Starbreaker: Neutral Clan Silvervein: Friendly Clan Hammerforged: Neutral Records of the Ironguts ((Family Tree: https://www.familyecho.com/?p=JBMRI&c=3rihhyqbxa&f=118731965149584681)) Clan Father: Dimlin Irongut (Beamon4) Clan Elders: Dor Irongut(BDanecker) Dwain II Irongut (Hiebe) Dwalin Irongut(__Coridal) Clan Members: Tharggus Irongut (Tharggus) Balek Irongut (Hobolympic) Yeulf Irongut (IronGroot) Dorin Irongut (DarthArkous) Bolgnir Irongut (Tidemanno) Hogarth Irongut (Jordan 1921) Beardlings: Du’drek Thunderfist Irongut(Soloraso) Jahkatir Irongut(XloPass) Sulla Irongut(Chaones) Hall of the Deceased: Deceased: Thordon Irongut ((Jordan1921)) Thrym Sliverfist ((NoobCrafert14)) Nurrak Irongut ((Destroyer_Bravo)) Kara Irongut ((skippyoak)) Gamil Irongut ((Unknown)) Belin Irongut ((Skinner541)) Isabelle Irongut ((Unknown)) Whurgar Irongut ((Owl_7)) Theor Irongut ((Blob9000)) Balin Irongut ((darkjames)) Thak Irongut ((GavinTheViking)) Ore'zy Irongut ((lawlmansayshi)) Fariken Irongut((30326)) Rehki Irongut ((bov61)) Smalltoe Irongut ((Musboris)) Nozagen Irongut ((Bov61)) Lilum Irongut ((KarmaDelta)) Chase Irongut((Dtrik)) Goroth Irongut((30326)) Uldar Irongut ((Tirenas)) Dun Irongut ((blackhawk77g)) Skippy Irongut (skippy369) Honored Dead: Hiebe Irongut ((Hiebe)) Belin Irongut ((Skinner541)) Darius Irongut ((Blackhawk77g)) Phelrin Irongut ((ChAnKoEr)) Susan Irongut ((ABoyNamedSue)) Algrim Irongut ((Isemburt)) Draco Irongut ((RP)) Dwain Irongut ((RP)) Missing (Previous list purged): Beardling Yurvo (MonkeyFaceGamer) Thorgrim Irongut (irDusk) Kilgrim Irongut (Kilgrim_) Sharr Irongut (lordbobby123) Banished: Mili Irongut ((Leland22)) Grimloth Irongut ((jakesimonson)) Tortek Silverfist ((Axmaynard)) Bofauk Irongut ((lawlmansayshi)) Duregar Irongut ((ww2buff99) Sili Irongut ((Leland22)) Aengoth Irongut ((Aengoth)) Gauldrim Irongut ((Redbench)) Clan Tenets In-character 1. Respect your elders. Respect those who are older than you. You represent our clan and your actions, good or bad, affect us all. 2. Loyalty to your clan above all else. 3. Help your clansmen when you can. Don't abandon each other in fights, however hard it might be. Out-of-character 1. Your Irongut character should be your main character. 2. If you're an Irongut and you betray the clan, your character, if killed by an Irongut, is perma-dead. 3. Separate RP from OOC, we’re all friends here. Proving of the Lineage (Application) (Copy the below and paste to use) [ MC Name: ] What is your name? Where do you live? What are your primary skills? Short biography (5+ sentences): How are you related to the Irongut Clan? (See family tree, don't create your own father or mother unless you PM the Clan Father): Do you swear loyalty to the Irongut Clan?: OOC Do you agree to follow all the rules of the Irongut Clan? Discord ID? (optional, you can also send it through PM if required)
  3. TheDragonsRoost

    [Story] The Peace of the South

    Karren Myrsta had lived a peaceful life within the town of Caras Eldar before he ultimately left the Dominion of Malin and ventured to the most southern regions, avoiding raiders and bandits along the road to a small human colony called Austrasia. He arrived to Austrasia, starving to death, when his friend Nenar came through the gates and gave him pieces of bread for him to feed upon and gain his strength back. He had a charismatic charm to his kind soul as if his soul burned with an intensity that allowed him access to a very special kind of magic that not everyone understands. This kind of magic cannot be taught by anyone or found in a musty old tome full of ancient diagrams and written words of those long past gone, but yet all the people know of it. It allows access to the greatest ideas and allows for innovators of both scientifical and magical origins to create things that no one has ever seen before. To allow for the greatest of heroes to be forged in the coming days of Atlas and even make things come from the parchment to life. From the smallest halfling to the biggest orc, this magic flows through all people of any origin or culture, unbound by the restrictions of magic and burns within the person's soul without being quenched by the darkness of Dark Magic or being amplified by those of Holy origin. This magic allows for new beginnings, creation of eras in both magical and scientific progression, and can even unify a people determined to live together in harmony. He never allowed himself to be down when it mattered. Karren had a special kind of heart that meant he could move the stars themselves in order to save his friends. He felt that power surge within him, even as he tried so hard to obtain magic to only never gain magic. As a young child, Karren was endlessly fascinated by the prospects of innovation and utilizing magical energy to help others than just himself. No matter how hard he tried to gain magic of any kind whether it be Shade, Voidal Evocation, or even Druidism, he never truly wanted that magic for himself. He never craved power just for the sake of power, but he craved power to help others. He didn't wish to cause others harm or let harm befall those he believed or knew were innocent. He wanted to be a role model for the children and to give them that sense of wonder he himself carries. He wanted to push beyond the cultural differences of the magical types and let his own self feel the magic that burned within his soul be his guide to being someone that he knew he could be. Now, he still hopes to achieve that goal. Even though he is now sixty-one years old, Karren still believes in the magic of Hope. [OOC] This is meant to be a creative writing story that is canon to my character's personal story, but not known in-character. Please do not metagame any of this information.
  4. TheDragonsRoost

    [Story] The Depths of Madness

    Sometimes you just don't understand. Sometimes you want to understand something that cannot make sense. This is what happened to Karren Myrsta one night while doing the calculations for the magic he was desperately trying to crack. His soul yearned for the powers of Magic, which seemed to repel all the divine attention from him, keeping their gifts far from Karren and lending him no aid to the unruly calculations. It seemed all hope for Karren doing these calculations would be dashed... ...Had it not been for one very odd dream he had some time ago. ~(+)=(+)~ He slept normally as he did in the small southern city of Austrasia, laying in his own bed within a small tent of his own making. He was exhausted of the day's events and slept hard and then it became odd from the start. He dreamed he was floating in a pit of nothingness, no light or sound. He couldn't see much or less feel. Well, thats would turn out to be a lie once he started to feel something put its eye on him as if it dragged him into this pit of nothingness. "You wish to make a deal?" Karren would hear in his mind. It sounded male, raspy or rough Karren could not discern. The voice seemed to be quite serious. Karren thought about it and before he could speak, he heard the voice in his head again. "So you wish for knowledge to crack your mathematics on your magic. I can offer that knowledge, but this comes with a cost you will pay for in the future." "What cost?" Karren quickly thought. "You shall find out. In time." The voice said and before too long, Karren woke up with a beautiful sight of the sun rising. ~(+)=(+)~ The mysterious voice stirred up a physical form in Atlas. He, of course, would not be visible to the Descendants or to the creatures yet as he longed for the boy to finish his calculations to which he helped seal the deal in his dreamscape. He offered the boy the knowledge he desperately required, but he had no idea that he had signed away something that he'd come to find out in the future which made the man smile a little. His physical form was always something he preferred the most to look like though he had no real physical form to speak of. The future of the research he had plans for, the man thought, would be destroyed once he completed it with the knowledge he provided him. At least thats what he planned for in reality. "He has no idea that he is beginning a whole new era of magic. Of Dark Magic." the man smiled as his vocal chords were fully formed once more, walking away from Cloud Temple with an aura of a chilling coldness that rivaled even that of Death itself....
  5. TheDragonsRoost

    [Story] The Realm of Dreams

    Waking in a strange Realm is always shocking, but to Karren Mrysta, he was met with the complex thing in the world. He woke in a strange field of wheat on an endless plain, stretching from horizon to horizon where Time had little meaning. He was dressed in garb that seemed to be completely white as if it represented his purity of the soul and he felt like these plains had meant a lot to him as if the field of wheat meant the potential he had as a person instead of just a High Elf. With this, he did not understand what has happening until he began to notice someone else in the field of wheat with him. A man walks up to Karren, seemingly around the same age as Karren, wearing robes of a vibrant astral blue color with a golden trim in his cloak. He also has a black tunic with black pants and he also wears hard leather boots, however it seemed to Karren that this man looked like a High Elf, though not really. Karren wasn't sure who this stranger was, but he did have a familiar feel to him as if somewhere in Karren's mind, he knew him. Perhaps he had read about him from someplace? "Hello, Karren Myrsta," the stranger said to Karren. "Welcome to the Far Glade." Karren was speechless, but he would remain speechless for a time as the dream would seemingly take a long time before it would allow him to speak. What seemed like a half-hour of silence, Karren found his voice and spoke up. "Why am I here?" "Because there are mysteries that need solving, Karren. The Primal Schools of magic aren't to be tested, but however, in my Realm, I can tell you the only thing that your missing." the stranger told Karren. "You're missing Time." With that, Karren suddenly woken up and the world took a moment to snap into view as he felt like he slept so hard that he slept for two years...
  6. Kata

    The Queen of Glynn

    *I'd like to be more active on the forums, and as of now, I think I can do so by writing short stories. In a city full of music, joy, and chivalry, there were great people, people who spread the magic of this city. Though this magic was not like most, it was a magic that could not be seen but felt with the heart. Just stepping foot inside this beautiful city would make you feel at ease, you'd be relaxed, joyful, and stress-free. Music flew gracefully down streets, art was hung all around, people of all sorts would talk and they'd all get along marvellously, though of course, this could never last forever. In 1934 this beautiful city had to witness a tragic event, which none imagined would ever happen. The roaring of the wyverns of the mystic forest was heard. These roars tumbled over the beautiful music in Glynn, causing it to fade. The citizens were quick to realise what this was. It was the Monarch of Olara. There could only be one possible reason for her arising. The Heart of Glynn had been tampered with. The heart of Glynn was a powerful gemstone gifted to the queen of Glynn by the monarch of Olara, to help prevent evil for spreading throughout the city. Some citizens rushed to their homes, others fled to the outer city, and few rushed to the palace. A Wyvern had flown over the city, landing right on the tower where this magical gemstone once sat. Inside this tower, were the queen, on her knees, holding pieces of this gemstone, tears flooding from her eyes, spilling like rain would on an awful day. citizens and knights rushed into the room, stopping at the door as the queen brought her hand back, her palm flat, facing them, indicating them to not step closer. The Wyvern perched on the tower roared, destroying the top of the tower, causing chunks of stone to crumble and fly off the sides, crashing into other parts of the palace. The citizens inside screamed, though the queen only continued to silently let out her tears as she stood, taking hold of a piece of the gemstone in her hand, clutching it tightly as she walked towards the wyvern. The creature sniffed and grumbled, horrid, ghostly noises escaping it as she came closer, bringing the piece of gemstone closer to its nostrils. In fear, most the citizens had backed away, though some brave nights stayed, yelling for their queen to step away. Though, nothing good be done, as the mouth of the wyvern opened, whispers escaping for a very brief moment, before a strange fire, yet dust like substance blew out of its mouth, and from there, everything went blurry, nothing could be seen, and it happened so quickly. The knights left had been blasted back, the rest of the top of the tower was destroyed, and the queen was gone. A large pile of white sat on the floor of the floor, and in the middle of it lay the gemstone. Repaired, as if it were never broken. Though, the queen the citizens all once knew and loved was not there. Instead, a new queen had risen from these dust particles, a new ruler had been birthed. With a last glance, the Wyvern took it's leaving, heading right back to the forest it came from, letting out a last horrid roar to warn the citizens of Glynn to never touch such a precious item again.
  7. Ragnio

    The Atlasian Naval Guild

    The Atlasian Naval Guild was founded within the realm of Atlas, after the old Sutican City was nearly abandoned by it’s citizens and the leaving of the Trading Princess Lily, allowing those without a place to stay to find a new home to rest and to life at. Unlike most other nations the founders of the Atlasian Naval Guild were known as fairly good sailors and interested scientists, trying to explore the oceans of Atlas and it’s surroundings. While their ideal was it to explore the oceans they also became home to many people around them, steadily growing and expanding their research fleet. Purpose of the Guild While many Guilds are focusing on trading, giving the opportunity to learn a form of magic or just to offer some work the purpose of the Atlasian Naval Guild is different and unique in it’s own. The main purpose of the guild is it to explore the oceans of atlas and to find possible new lands to stay at. While doing so the guild is also trying to do their research of the currents, which are flowing through the oceans of the new realm, finding the fastest one to use for future traveling and sailing. Another big part of the guilds daily work is the research of new organisms, including plants and animals alike. New species can often help understand the current situations in certain regions and can also be used as materials for all kind of stuff, examples being medicine, smithing materials and far more. This is afterward leading to experiments to test possible new tools and to conclude further research on the different topics. Safety Safety is a rather important aspect for each member in the Atlasian Naval Guild, especially due to their dangerous missions. As such everyone is warned that the Guild isn’t having peaceful missions at all, but also rather dangerous ones. Due to those circumstances every member of the crew should be able to fight and be steady on a rough sea. Living Space/Base MS Vaile - The MS Vaile is a strong, nimble and fast Gallion Grade Vessel, housing around twenty crew members. The Vessel is build under the Captain and co Captain Vahryu Daluon, and Julia Abernathy. The MS Vaile can travel at the speed of 27 knots, able to withstand the Weather of the cold Arctic and hot summer winds of the equator. The mast would be made of a strong oak with Iron fittings and the sails would be made of a thin material dyed with grays and greens, the crews quarters holds around twenty eight bunks and the captains quarters holds two bunks, excluding the medical bay and area for livestock. Jobs/Tasks While many different roles are existing each member of the group is trying to help each other by handling main tasks, such as cooking or just cleaning the ship. As such most tasks are the following ones: Cook - Preparing dinner/food for the crew, while keeping a close eye on rations and drinkable water. The cook should be able to handle a knife even in the roughest of seas...and hopefully not lose a finger or too! Cartographer - Creating maps for the guild is an important job, since the guild is always trying to find and explore new lands. However, without creating a map of the new landmass and the surrounding waters such explorations are rather useless, since no one else may be able to find the land again. As such the cartographer needs to create fairly good maps, allowing the crew to find the islands once again. Secretary - The secretary is in charge of the general documentary of the expeditions and tasks fulfilled by the crew. Recording every single day on the sea is of importance, mostly to keep a fine grip on time, date and other important factors. As such the secretary should be able to write and have a talent for organizing. Steerman - Steering the ship with confidence and experience as the steerman guides the crew through the waves to their predetermined destination! A good eye is needed to see through the currents and shallow waters, sailing the ship to new lands to explore. As such the steerman should have some experiences in sailing and how currents are normally acting. Sailor - The sailors of the ship are helping wherever they can, either by hissing the sails or by cleaning the deck. Normally this job isn’t requiring a lot of talent to do, yet, it is one of the more important jobs, since everything is depending on the sailors. Medic - Healing the wounded and sick is the work of the medic, often saving many lives in dangerous situations. As such the medic should have a great knowledge in medicine and should be able to operate in a rather small medical area. Goals The Atlasian Naval Guild has several important goals to achieve, mostly focusing around explorations and experimentation on different naval-related topics. As such the most common goals for the guild are: Finding new land Finding new plants and animals Completing research on different topics, mostly the synergy of different species Preserving the ocean life Discovering ancient sea structures Finding treasures Application MC-Name: Character Name: Age: Race: Hometown: Possible Goals to achieve: Wanted Role/Job: Discord: Member List Captain Vahryu Daluon (@Ragnio) Julia Abernathy(@Space_Gene) Steerman Gilondir Oronar Frostbeard (@SanderGamerNL) Cartographer Jakhatir Kegbrew Grandaxe (@iAssey) Son'ya Sparrow (@MoonsWolf_) Secretary Quillian Caerme’onn (@Torkoal_Tom) Sonya(@EagleEyeKK) Medic Balin Anvilaxe Grandaxe (@TheDarkAngel2308) Makisu Aiichi (@LilBlueMaki) Cook Hekkaes ‘Anvilaxe’ Goldhand (@JokerLow) Sailor Kraggomi Anvilaxe (@Leomits) Eledar Haler'thilln (@Aythinae) Ben Ethil (@HurferDurfe1) Bolon Stormtaker (@DarkElfs) Abdul Mubdee (@Booklight12) Ravondir Torena (@Ravondir) Cassian (@Svaknir) Mith (@TeaSpoon) Ned Anker (@MrForesteroni) Amias Carter Jonesaeus (@Jerome Jonesaeus) Robin David (@SkullMasterRO) Luthais (@IceWalker0) Allied Forces Vizmak Brigade
  8. Time. It is the endlessly complex force of all of Creation that cannot ever be killed or destroyed. But somehow, it can be manipulated. Karren Myrsta had met his biggest fan of the club called the "Grand Undying," a mysterious club that centers around Karren Mrysta and his research into Balance Magic, a magic that transcends the magics of Voidal, Deity, and Dark, in the Dominion Square. Somehow, this biggest fan of his seemed to be knowledgeable of his past and what Karren would not realize was that this encounter would trigger a loop in Time where his biggest fan and himself were trapped in. Not even Balance Magic could manipulate this loop, but this had prompted Karren to delve back into his research into Balance Magic and keep trying to obtain this magic, but however that alone has come with dark costs. Once Balance Magic was released into Atlas by Karren Mrysta, he would not realize that researching such a powerful force of magic would place a curse upon his bloodline that would last all the way until the End of Time. For every firstborn child of his bloodline, they would slowly become a Balance Elemental and cannot revert back into Descendant form for extended periods of time. The Myrsta Bloodline would be cursed once Balance Magic was released. Starting with Karren Myrsta's own firstborn and the curse would not manifest until the child themselves achieved the highest possible tier in Balance Magic. Balance is Forever. --- "Sir, the boy's timeline has fluctuated!" a strange voice would say out into the depths of the Transcended Realms. A man in black robes and silvery hair with Emerald Green eyes would come walking towards the sound of the voice. He would seem to be extremely powerful, too powerful for the world of Atlas. He'd begin to speak with a neutral tone to the strange voice "How did it fluctuate?" "A strange wood elf spoke to him. It seemed to accelerate his timetable for researching the magic of Balance by at least a few elven weeks." the strange voice would reply. "Should we allow this change?" "Let it stay. If the Prince causes any more damage to Atlas, the boy will need the magic. Especially if it can grant him the ability to forge godslaying weapons." the black-robed man would say and then the scene would fade to black..... ---
  9. TheDragonsRoost

    [Story] Karren's Ether

    Everybody lives. Everybody dies. Stories End. Stories Begin. Karren Myrsta felt the cold and unyielding grasp of the Reaper, living to tell the tale of the Regeneration to those he'd call friends. Feanor, Arwenia, Leolin, Ally moon, and even the Praetor himself were just a few people out of the many who began to hear the tale of the Regeneration and the man who rose from the cold icy grip of Death, wielding knowledge of the powers of the Dark Magics that govern over the dark creatures and users of the magic. He begun to see how death worked to fuel their spells and in many ways, this added to his already accumulating research on the new type of magic he wanted to try and learn. In this magic, the users of the magic are able to understand the balance between all things, living and not. They are able to pull the weaknesses and strengths of the various schools of magic, forging them into powerful spells that can be used to attack multiple enemies or even just one enemy at a time, forge barriers strong enough to keep enemies at bay, and even cast healing spells upon those who the caster deems an ally. Even then, with this magic, dangers come knocking. The question is if Karren can protect the one thing that was given back to him. Can he protect Karren's Ether?
  10. TheDragonsRoost

    A Change in the Wind

    The Silver City of Haelun'or bustled with chatter lingering in the air as the various people came through the gates of the newly-open Silver City. Markets were opened and trade began to prosper as the new ideas of the Silver Council began to bear fruit, seeing those who walk the paths of the various races wander through the streets of Haelun'or and interacting with the High Elves, forging relations and social connections. These ideas and changes to the culture of Haelun'or were brought about by the current Okarir'tayna Vanya Lauar'ante and supported by the Okarir'mali Arelion Lauar'ante when they began to rebuild the crumbling city of Okarir'thilln, regenerating it into its former glory. However, this day would bring unyielding curiosity to the people of the Silver City as word has reached the Silver City of a High Elf man in the Dominion of Malin conducting research on a new type of magic that does not require a voidal connection, worshipping a deity, or performing dark rituals in order to obtain the magic. This man would be endlessly pouring over the tomes of the magical world, reading up on the various schools of magic and learning all he can to understand the weaknesses and strengths of the various schools. Rumors of this magic spread across the Dominion and the surrounding area but during this fateful day, all relevant notices were kept under wraps by the Ministry of Magic and the Silver Council. Well, all but one. The following was kept up, though most of it was defiled, on one of the gate walls...
  11. TheDragonsRoost

    [Story] Balanced Energy

    Some stories have good endings. Some stories have bad endings. Not this story. Picture if you will a lone Druii wandering the forest in a frozen instance of Time. He would wear the formal attire of someone with royal blood coursing through his veins as if his life depended on his body having such royalty in his body. He had died long ago in a bygone age and wandered the forest for eons after his death, but even in this beautiful scene of the morning sun rising and the peaceful atmosphere of the forest, something had felt off. This druid had forgotten his mortal name long ago and nearly all the memories of his mortal life, though it would seem his story had not been over all those years ago. He did not remember his death at all or how he woke up in this strange place all that time ago, but he felt the Song of Nature sing in a soft hum throughout the forest, but in one very specific area the song would slowly dim until it would be completely unheard. "Curious," the druid would speak as he'd walk into a small clearing, hearing the Song start to diminish. "Why would this beautiful place become so silent here?" He would not feel nor hear someone approaching in front of him, though he could see a distortion in the space in front of him. Ripples in the fabric of spacetime and the forest would go silent as the ripples began to expand to reveal a dark Oblivion behind a mystical tunnel that seemed to be ethereal in nature. In this tunnel, a lone man would walk towards the druid. This man seemed to control the tunnel and the tunnel itself seemed to even respond to his commands. The druid was completely taken off-guard of the stranger who seemed to govern the magical tunnel into the forest and was taking a few steps back as if he feared the being. "In the name of the Aspects..." the druid would say as he'd notice the man walking towards him from the tunnel, sounding scared of the man in front of him. "What in the name of the Aspects are you..?" A strange disembodied voice would meet his question with a soft feminine whisper, almost as if the Aspect of Life herself was replying to the druid. "That is the Lord of Creation, a man so powerful that he could slaughter divine beings with his magic and stop wars with his knowledge in swordsplay and experience in the bow and arrow. He is coming for you....." This would make the druid very scared and run for his life in the forest, but little did he know that the Lord of Creation was here for something else entirely. Something that meant he would be changing the course of History forever. He was there to teach the druid Balance Magic, but even with that kind of magic, he knew that the druid would need to spread it as well. The Lord of Creation knew the druid's name. His name was King Abelas of the Dominion of Malin and he wanted to make sure that Abelas knew what had been done in his time inside of the Eternal Forest. However, Abelas did not know the Lord of Creation's name and he would never know while he had resided within the Eternal Forest... OOC: This is meant to be a short story based upon the character that @Will (TauFirewarrior)roleplayed, known as King Abelas. In NO WAY is this meant to be disrespectful or harmful towards the character as I thoroughly enjoyed his character and as such, this story is meant to be NON-CANON. In this story, the "Lord of Creation" character is based off of my character of the same origin from my upcoming Lord of Creation book series and the setting of the story is set 400-500 years after the PK event (IC-time). Note for Will: Loved roleplaying with you as you played as Abelas. Hope to enjoy your child char in roleplay! -Kev
  12. UnSt0ne

    The maze of Khazad'Akduum pt. 2

    "Rhena, remuv teh stone" Raeghor Onyxheart ordered the dark golem. Dark golem, as huge as the entrance into the maze, removed the giant stone, placed to keep out something strong and terrifying. It was not the first time Ghalamorummar ventured into the labyrinth. Last time they were almost killed. Barumnir, the hero, has not been seen since last time. "T'is toime we be readeh" Nero Onyxheart mumbled. The maze was different now, no spiders, no draft, no sound. Nothing. It made the dark dwarves nervous, only the dim light of Raeghor's armour and Rhena's runes showing them the way. "Et knuws we are 'ere, Kronul." Raeghor stated. All of a sudden, the sound of charging hooves was heard. It was the charge of death and destruction. But this time, the dwarves were ready. This time, they had Rhena with them. It was a loud crash, when flesh met stone, the Minotaur had an equal opponent. After a while, two rooms became one, as walls were torn down. Raeghor and Nero worked hard to stay out of the way. "Keep eht buseh, Rhena! Keep eht down!" Raeghor ordered. He lifted his sword, and started aiming the blade into the neck of the minotaur. But the beast was stronger and smarter, than they thought. It pushed back the golem, not noticing small dwarves planning and scheming their attack. The golem was a new sight for it, a curiosity. As the construct was lying on its back, the beast plunged its axe towards the belly of stone. Time was short now, Raeghor knew. He jumped and sliced his blade at the huge neck. The beast grabbed him by throat, turning its inquiring gaze from Rhena. It was all that was needed. Rhena rose, kicked the beast on its one knee. Raeghor, now released, sliced again at the neck. As the wounded minotaur let go of the dwarf's throat, he grabbed it by its horns. Rhena pushed the heavily bleeding minotaur down, while Raeghor stood on its shoulders and hold the ivory horns tight. Then, the dark dwarf pulled. He put his back into the pull, using all his strength. Nero was kicked unconscious at the beginning of the fight. When he woke, he saw minotaur's head being ripped off of its shoulders and a golem, showered in blood. It was then, when the dwarves discovered a pair of stairs, which led deeper into the darkness of the maze. The minotaur was guarding it.
  13. "The boy. How has he progressed?" A strange figure would say. Strange sounds are heard throughout the cavern as if it was ethereal in origin, almost as if it was trapped between instances of time. This strange figure would seem to be extremely powerful, equal to that of a semi-divine as if the figure had ascended to their current position through Regeneration and acquiring the powers they have, though it seems that the rules of the world bind this figure to this ethereal plane, unable to ever interact with the mortal world. "He has been brought back to life, sire. Through the use of a Totem of Undying." A lingering voice would say from deep within the cavern, rough and masculine. "The boy still has no idea of his destiny and how he shall hold the power to unite two warring worlds. He should still be unable to realize this destiny for the time being." "Then he shall remain ignorant until such a time when Fate intervenes," the strange figure replied to the voice in the cavern, sighing a bit. "So, when will he begin his research on the magic?" "His research has already begun, sire. He has started making headway in such things and gathering the information he believes that shall help him learn of the magic." the voice replied. "He will still need to find his own way to knowing the magic." "That is left to the natural course of Time. For the time being, he shall enjoy this time he has because he is starting a new chapter in his life soon enough." the strange figure would say to the voice. "With the events that is to come, he will need to be prepared. There are dark days coming for the boy, even with the Prince spawned in Atlas." "Of course, sire. I shall update you further once the boy stops grieving for the fallen King of the Elvenesse." the lingering voice would say to the strange figure, sounding neutral in the matter. "A pity the King fell to a dwarf whose own power was corrupted and corroding to the Natural Timeline. The powers of messing with the natural balance of Life and Death can do that to anyone who wields its power, regardless of what magic or weapon the person wields..." the strange figure would say as the scene began to fade.... ((OOC Sidenote: These little Transitions between the chapters are meant to be told in this form in a way of personifying the OOC perspective between a mysterious figure and a mysterious voice that will hold no influence on the Realm of Atlas. It's a new concept of creative writing I'm working on to help with the personal story of Karren Myrsta and maybe even all of my characters on Lord of the Craft. I hope you guys enjoy the reading and perhaps I will make more Transitions and add more indepth storytelling...))
  14. Two dwarves descended the cliffside to the mushroom forest from Kal’tarak, both wearing Vanguard armour. They were young, one with a golden blonde beard reaching to his chest, the other a ginger with his facial hair braided down just beneath his belly. “The golem makes me nervous.” The blonde stated. They turned down to the riverside in their patrol. In the mud, Wonks tilled various kinds of fungi, their ribeting echoing around them. “Makes me nervous too.” The other dwarf replied. “And it’s all against the Prince. Can’t believe these poor folk lived above him forever.” The Wonks did not seem to hear the discussion as they continued their daily chores. The patrol turned up the riverbank and both dwed now approached the bridge leading over the Wonk village. “Ever seen the elf living up there?” The ginger dwarf asked, pointing a fat finger at the quartz-lined tower carved into the cave pillar. His blonde partner shook his head. “An elven wizard lives up there. Hasn’t been around for at least a year. I do hope he’s gone to bring some … relics against the prince.” His blonde partner was no longer paying attention by the end of the sentence. Instead, his eyes fixated across the bridge, squinted at the darkness. He lifted a left hand while using the other to unsheathe his axe. His words rung of both surprise and a fair degree of fear. “I heard something across. By Dungrimm, I swear I heard.” “Let us hope the elf arrived home, then.” The blonde one replied quiet as the two made their way across the bridge, weapons unsheathed. In front of them stood the statue of an old dwarven wizard, untended and mouldy from the nearby river’s moist air. “Last month.” The blonde one continued in a hushed tone. “The Wonks were chanting something. It echoed from their cave and sounded eerie … croaky singing makes the hair stand on your back.” As the dwarf said those words, both of them heard footsteps again. Ears perked as they moved on to the back wall of the cave. The stone laid flat from the pickaxe cuts the Dwarves made across of it, slabs missing from the side and leaving the cave wall blocky. In front, a stonemason’s tools still laid on a table, though behind it the two dwarves peeked a passage no wider than a child’s shoulders. Behind it, the noise of feet tapping intensified. Metal clung against stone as a chunk of the cave wall fell between the opening and the mason’s seat, leaving the two Dwarves facing eye-to-eye with a tiny, black eye framed by muddy grey fur. After five seconds of silence, both parties turned around and made a run for it. The passage remained there, open though not widened further, whereas the two Dwed ran straight to the Vanguard depot. After a mug of ale each, they shared their story with the others there, and word soon spread about the discovery behind the wizard tower. (( This Progression is part of Project Urir. Click here for more information! ))
  15. UnSt0ne

    The maze of Khazad'Akduum pt. 1

    Deep underground, in the hidden hold of Khazad'Akduum, the dark dwarves made their home. Expanding it, digging the ground, harnessing the minerals, they uncovered an entrance. It was the entrance into an ancient maze. Standing at the gates, they felt a draft of wind coming from inside. Three dark dwarves, three Onyxheart stood there, stared into the darkness with their fiery eyes. Barumnir Onyxheart, Nero Onyxheart and Raeghor Onyxheart. "Courage, Kronul, weh 'ead en!" Raeghor Onyxheart would state to his companions, leading his fellow dark dwarves through the entrance and into the confusing depths of the maze. Inside the maze there seemed to be nothing but darkness at first. The trio wrestled through some spiderwebs and killed a bunch of the creators of said webs. The screams of fighting awakened something stronger. Something was there with them, in the first floor of seemingly endless maze. A deep, guttural roar echoed through the walls of the maze. Still screaming and celebrating the victory, the company of dark dwarves did not expect such a welcome, as great was the anger and fury of the roar. "Courage, Kronul!" Raeghor stated to his companions. The dark dwarves followed the maze, into the general direction, of which they believed the roar was coming from. As the maze progressed, they came to realize, that they are completely and utterly lost, lost in the hugging darkness of the maze. One of them saw a dim light at the end of a particularly long hallway. The air seemed to be much warmer now. "T'ere!" Nero Onyxheart would point out. When they first arrived into the dimply lit room, only thing they heard was a bang, following Raeghor flying into the wall. Then the roar filled the room. Nero and Barumnir stared at their companion already bloodied on the ground, and to the other side of the room there was a minotaur. The beast towered over the dark dwarves, offering them no time to plan their defence, attacking right away. He swung his axe at their heads, shattering walls, trampling the ground. Charge after charge the beast showed no sign of weakness nor did he tire. After it had stomped in Raeghor's ancestral laval-armor and impaled Nero with its horns, Barumnir Onyxheart stood up. He managed to carry two of his brethren out of the maze, leaving the angered guardian of the first floor ravage in the darkness.
  16. Medvekoma

    Pride Reforged

    (( This thread is a lore-story re-telling of the Queen's speech today in Kaz'Ulrah for those who weren't mechanically present but ICly would have been, from my chat logs )) The High Queen emerged from the throne room, to face a cradle of Dwedmar. She looked flushed, pale and exhausted, though also prideful. She held a sword in her left hand, one made of blackened steel, though turned edge-first, its bulk not visible to those gathered. "Ever since Arcadia lifted itself off the ground," she started her speech, "The Runelords have been trying to take over the Dwedmar. Install their illegitimate rule and defile the line of Urguan and the elected kings. When the clans Frostbeard, Blackaxe and Goldhand stood up and fought for the Freedom of the Khazadmar, the Runelords fell from both grace figuratively, and from Arcadia literally." Some cheers erupted from he gathered crowd, many recalling the glory of toppling the corrupt kingdom. A Stormbreaker even let out a loud whistle. "The Kingdom of Kaz'Ulrah represens the Freedom of the Dwedmar." Koralon continued. "A freedom that many of us fought for. And triumph was earned through hundreds of bloodied beards we'll never forget. Today we stand as the ultimate Kingdom, the strongest of the Dwed factions and the last Dwedmar settlement still loyal to the Brahmordakin, the traditions and the ancestors of each clan." The High Queen shifted in her stand. She took a firm grip on the sword she held, her tone turning even more serious than prior. "Yet the Runelords still taunted us. By denying us knowledge of their runes. By denying us touching of our own artifacts. They teach Elves, they declare Kha and Humans honorary Dwedmar while worshiping a whitewashed statue that looks like a hangover-me!" Kóri Stormbreaker immediately fluttered his eyelashes towards the Queen, and Grudgebeard commented with a shug. "You do look like Belka." The Queen remained steadfast. She shifted the blade in her hand to show its flat edge, on which the gathered dwarves could see a set of runes glowing orange like the flow of magma. Runes unlike the circular runes of Arcadia, but resembling those decorating the flesh of the Doomforged. "Today, that has changed. Today, the first runed weapon was forged without the knowledge of the runelords, without their involvement, without heir approval. Propelled by nothing more but the knowledge we gathered. The knowledge we were given by friends and allies." She lifted the weapon high in her left hand. Its runes remained dormant with the same glow, though the Dwarves present could now see a pristine ruby etched into its crosguard, at the base of the runes. "A knowledge that we will share. A knowledge that we will pass down the generations to come, one that will not stick to the old, the decreipt, the corrupt and the lethargic! I hereby announce myself as the first Runelord independent of Arcadia and their lethargy, for I reforged the broken blade of Demagol and Archaem Doomforged. Behold: Bokkanym's Pride!" Koralon thrusted the blade even higher, shouting an Asgolian word, to which the ruby in the blade glew up with an orange light and soon unleashed a torrent of flames skywards. "Death to Urguan!" She shouted. "Freedom to the Dwedmar!" Many of the Dwarves present immediately offered the Kaz'Ulrah bloodied fist salute. They erupted in cheers and applause. Silverveins roared up with their battle cries. Goldhands echoed the word "Freedom!". Some Dwarves grumbled at the mention of Urguan, subtly noting it should have been "Death to Arcadia!" instead.
  17. The Legend of Bogrin the Grandaxe : Origins Bogrin Grandaxe was a was the founder of the Grandaxe clan and is a revered patriarch of the dwedmar. Before that however, Bogrin was a very different dwed with much to learn. Bogrin was born son to Urguan fire-haired and gray eyed. Robust and firm as a beardling Bogrin grew to be an enduring and powerful dwed alongside the fellow sons of Urguan. Bogrin was a solemn dwed who guarded himself carefully, known for being as rough and prickly as the cacti of the orcish deserts. Thus early in his life he struck out independently of his kin and dwelled alone in the mountains of northern Aegis. In the harsh wilderness of the north Bogrin survived alone, and those who challenged him did not. He hid his distinctive fiery hair behind a hooded cloak, and became one with the northern landscape. This cruel environment shaped Bogrin to be a formidable fighter and enduring survivor who could hold his own without the help of others. He was known to be dismissive other dwed seeking refuge in the north, focused greedily on his own well-being. Among dwarven settlers of the north he became a respected and feared dwed, who those wise to his attitude towards others were keen to avoid. The increasing amount of dwarven settlers in the northern mountains did not go unnoticed. They became regular prey of wild beasts such as direwolves, and frequent raiding targets by warbands of uruks and goblins. Bogrin looked down upon the dwedmar with distaste for their lacking aptitude for survival and saw them as childish beardlings getting themselves far over their head. Seeing the struggles of their kin, many of the younger dwedmar began to look towards Bogrin angrily for his bystandery. One such encounter with a young dwed and his apparent father had been recounted by Bogrin. The younger dwed upon seeing Bogrin and being told by his father who he is began to curse and insult Bogrin furiously. The young dwed accused Bogrin of cowardice and hiding from the disaster facing the northern dwedmar. Bogrin debated harshly with the young dwed, claiming the settlers to be irredeemable and weak. The dwed’s father prodded him to learn respect and for Bogrin to ignore him. Still the youngling persisted until the argument infuriated Bogrin into shoving him onto the ground before grabbing his leg and breaking it at the knee. The dwed screamed in pain as his father looked at Bogrin in horror. At that moment Bogrin recognized the father as an aged runesmith who had forged his most prized axes he had kept since his youth. With this Bogrin felt great guilt for biting a hand that had once fed him, and quietly walked away from the pair. A few days later Bogrin caught a trail while on patrol and followed it to a former dwarven campsite. Looking upon the site he determined that they had left recently in a hurry, likely to avoid attacks by uruks. A body had been left behind for which Bogrin had determined as an older dwed; impaled by a spear through his chest and a gash through his neck. Behind the body footsteps lead up a slope to a small bowl formed by rocks. Tracks lead in circles around the bowl and at its center was a dwarven body; missing its right arm and head, and with a misaligned leg. Bogrin’s heart sank and he dropped onto his knees. He was indifferent towards his father and brothers, and uncaring towards his dwedmar kin. Bogrin had no children, he knew not what it was like to love his kin, to care for someone enough to put himself on the line for. He cracked, his internal guard was shattered and Bogrin was overwhelmed with guilt and loneliness and he could no longer hide from his passion. Feeling such profound sadness Bogrin grew so powerfully angry he ripped the hood off his cloak, took up his axe and marched down the trail left by the warband. His auburn hair blazing amidst the bleak landscape and his passion burned furiously in his heart. When he finally caught up to the orcish warband he fought with such ferocity that he tore a through their ranks until all of them had been single-handedly obliterated by Bogrin. Victorious he trudged back to his hideout in the mountains, packed up his gear, and walked in the direction of the nearest dwarven settlement. His axe still caked with blood and chunks of orc he strolled through the town without speaking a word, found an opening and began constructing his mountain home.
  18. Sometimes it takes a mind to understand that everchanging tempest of Time. Other times, they are considered mad and insane. That is what Karren felt like as he continued to delve into the darkest recesses of his own mind and soul. The single moment where his own life had taken a darkened turn was lost to his own memory as he had been claimed by Death and revived by the monks of Cloud Temple over and over again to the point where his own soul felt heavy. He wanted so badly to stop the pain of his own soul from weighing him down that he would've resorted for the blissfulness of the Shades to possess him, but he felt some kind of magical barrier blocking him or even preventing him from gaining such magic as if his destiny was not to fall into the powers of Shade or to fall into the powers of Death and mortality, but of a far more deeper future. One meant to change the world of Atlas forever. Karren was not aware of the cold and hardened fury within his own soul, but a man who had stepped into the Darkness had seen such an unbridled and furious emotional tidal wave of dark emotions within the boy's own soul. He approached the boy many days past in the Dominion and there had begun the lies and deceit, showing Karren the powers of his own soul. His own Fractured Soul. Kindness and humbleness hid away his own darkened emotions and unrestricted coils of anger and wrath, but even the man who approached him was slowly and surely twisting the boy's nature from a kind and humble boy into a hardened warrior of the Shadows. A man whose own destiny was to follow orders and prepare to turn his own emotions and sorrow into powers unrestricted and almost deadly to those he saw as enemies. The future looked promising to the boy as he kept up the dream of Balance and those he had met begun to see a much happier boy who had the time on his hands to learn about the world around him. What everyone did not figure out at all was that this boy harbored what would become the fuel for a spell that would grant him the powers of those tortured and suffered. What would be the Bane of the Shades and used in mind-altering illusions and painful secrets too dark for any one man. Karren Myrsta held in his own soul The Shadowed Fury.
  19. Zeldarina

    A silent throne room.

    The throne room fell silent, all eyes on the tall oak doors so carelessly flung open, the wind; a cool whip in the hand of the Gods. A sound of swords being unsheathed can be heard throughout the throne room, but those who draw their weapon do not step forth, rather they use the shadows of the columns as their armour and protection. The King himself does not move, he remains in his throne, grip tight on the cold metal arms, and poise uncomfortably straight to elevate himself. At the King’s side the Queen sits, her gaze fearful, torn between her husband and the intruder. The woman’s footsteps click down the hallway, and it is the only sound that can be heard, ringing out with the rhythm of a blacksmith sharpening his sword, or of a heartbeat. She walks confidently, like a victor after a battle – strutting through her enemies fallen bodies, without pause or hesitation. As she reaches the Kingsguard, her footsteps cease and she stands with her hand gently resting on her waist, her vision, piercing and cold falls on the King, and then drops to the Queen, who squirms in her seat uncomfortably, this makes her chuckle – a deep rippling laugh that slips and slides throughout the room like blood. As this trickles from her mouth she turns, and walks forward, each step calculated and slow. “It seems we have a crowd.” Her voice fills the room with the dramatic elegance of a performer. “I’m afraid my juggling act is on the morrow.” She keeps her back to the King, quite deliberately, and rolls her eyes at the knights clutching their swords like children hold their toys. The room falls silent once more, as if it had been frozen, and nobody wanted to break the ice. “Why are you here?” Finally, the King speaks, he does not shiver or stutter, but his eyes are cowardly and weak. “I wish to dance for you.” She says, without turning, her tone low and mocking. The Queen stands and shouts in her high, shrill tone, “You must face your King when you speak, and kneel to him as well.” A smile spreads across the woman, and she walks in a semi-circle, to face the thrones once more, but she does not look at the King, her vision stays focused on the Queen. She strides purposely and powerfully towards her, and the Queen’s courageous moment falters, now she looks nervous and silly where she stands. “A standing ovation already? How kind.” The Queen takes a quick breath and responds swiftly, the words rushing to get out of her mouth so she can sit down without attention. “I am your Queen, and you will address me as such.” “I must apologize; how rude it is of me not to address you by your proper name.” Her smirk is mischievous as she leans low. “I bow to you, Smotherer.” A series of gasps full the throne room, and the Kingsguard looks to the King for commands. “Seize her!” The Queen screams, but the Kingsguard do not move. “Burn her, stab her, drown her!” Each word is higher the last, making her sound hysterical and unsound. “Why do you not move! I command you as your Queen!” She tells the guards in an irate manner. The head of the Kingsguard does not turn nor kneel and stiffly replies, “We are under the command of the King, not of you.” Upon hearing this the Queen looks to her husband for support, but his focus stays on the woman. Tears of frustration well up in her eyes, and spill, as she storms out of the throne room. The King sighs, but his vision does not stray from the woman, who returns his steely gaze. “Let the dance commence.” She says, her voice a whisper yet heard by everybody present, an echo even heard in the Queen’s ears, as she rushes into her bedroom sobbing. The woman holds up her hand, and dances her fingers around like puppets. The Kingsguards’ limbs jolt and drop as if they were a mirror of her gestures. The 5 of them cry out in confusion as they lose control of their body and are used as rag dolls, their ivory robes flapping wildly in the movements. Knights and men alike on either side of the throne room step out, toward the woman, with weapons high and strong. The woman pays them no heed, and instead starts to hum a tune, a tune that thrashes and jumps and claws as if it were a beast of its own. “STOP.” The King’s shout booms across the room, loud and clear, the woman snaps her fingers and the Kingsguard lie lifeless on the floor. “You storm into my throne room, infuriate my wife, and murder my men. What is your business here?” The woman walks forward, over the dead bodies of the Kingsguard, and cries of objections come out from the crowd. One man rushes forward and she turns, giving him a strong glare, and his body flies away, hitting a few people, and lying still and cold. She stands in front of the King. “Once, we were lovers and you told me I meant the world to you.” The King starts to levitate, and his voice is silenced, yet his mouthing and expressions are one of a man in agony. “Well…” She says, as the King floats higher, and higher still. “I am here.” The King’s crown touches the ceiling now; tears pour down his face as his body spasms with pain. “And I come to collect my price.” She brings his body crashing down, onto the floor, the sound of his bones crunching ring out, and his blood pours onto the white rug. People drop their weapons in fear, some trying to sprint out of the door, but with a flick of her hand everybody levitates, a few feet, nothing more. They all have the same, dying emotions spread across their faces, skin contorted in pain. Her laugh spreads out once more, and she nods to the crown, it lifts and comes to her, drawn like a moth to a flame, bound to her dangerous beauty, and rests on her hair. The Queen bursts into the throne room, having calmed herself, and screams at the body of her dead husband. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” The Queen runs to his corpse in distress, shaking her head at the mess of blood and bone, in the moment of such intense panic not even seeing the levitating bodies. “I am your Queen.” The woman says, simply. The Queen looks up, in horror and spots the floating people, she stumbles backwards, and falls, screaming. “And you will address me as such.” The true Queen finishes, and brings the whole court crashing down to their deaths. The widow looks up at the true Queen, with blood covering her robes and tears pouring down her face. A wise man accepts his death, when it comes, to die with peace and without fear is to have a good death. But the widow cowers and screams as she dies, dragging out each second like the desperate fool she is.
  20. “By right of flame” REGARDING THE COURLANDIC RAT, 1666 Issued and confirmed by His Excellency, Jozsef of the House of Kovachev, 6th of the Sun’s Smile, 1666 TO THE CROWN AND ALL WHO IT MAY CONCERN, Once more, the Courlandic rats crawl out of their holes, to wreak havoc upon the realms of Man. They seek to uproot the established nations of humanity, solely for the purpose of fueling the ambitions of the House of Staunton. Our mistake - always, is allowing them to establish a foothold. Our ancestors have fought the House of Staunton for ages, dating far back to the days of the Riga War. Our House first saw the Staunton scourge for what they were; a blight upon the world. They are deceitful and opportunistic, cowardly and treacherous. Those who would turn their back to them, would sooner find a knife plunged into their back. They cannot be allowed to roam any longer. The House of Staunton must be dismantled - once and for all. As such, we do earnestly reaffirm our allegiance to the Crown of Renatus-Marna. We will take all steps necessary to subdue the insurrection festering in the lands of Ostmark; the lands once held by Eimar the Fat, until his family bent over the table for the Stauntons. As any good man of Carnatian descent would, we pledge to support His Majesty’s war effort, joining him with the Kovgorod levy, our resources, and our wealth. To the Northern Houses Any proper Northman ought to answer the clarion call to quell the Stauntonic menace once again. To our kinsmen in Haense, let us not forget about the atrocities committed by the Stauntons towards our people. To the Rutherns, let us not forget the time the young Joren and his retinue were cut down without second thought in the Courlandic palace. To the Vanirs, let us not forget they drove your House into exile in the unjust seizure of Kraken’s Watch. And to the Barbanovs of Haense, let us not forget the war crimes of the Great Northern War condoned by the Stauntons. While the Crowns of Renatus-Marna and Haense have not been always been on the best of terms, we do hope the Kingdom of Haense does not turn a blind eye to the Courlandic transgressions upon our people. As our forefathers have once cried, Curonia delenda est. BY RIGHT OF FLAME, His Lordship, Jozsef of the House of Kovachev, Baron of Kovgorod and Lord of Gryphon’s Roost, His Excellency, Carlovac of the House of Kovachev, Grand Knight of the Crown of Renatus-Marna, Lord-Commander of the Order of the Royal Dragon
  21. Birth of the Orison Ritual Site of the first Guardian Grotto, a harrowing, yet beautiful reminder of the death of a druid. “And she appeared before them, those troubled minds, and the air was alive with sound of nature. She gave them a reassuring smile, reaching a hand out, as if to offer help. All was well.” It is a well known truth among druii and those that study the aspects or their faith, that devout druids who die ascend to the realm of the fae, to serve out their days as Soulbound Servants and Guardian Spirits. In the realm of fae, these spirits of passed druids are revered by all as wise men and oracles. Creatures of the fae flock from every corner of the realm to hear their words of wisdom. In the realm of fae, they are considered demigods, chosen of the aspects themselves. (The Fae Realm) In death, these sages reflect the souls of what they were in life. For those that sought the taste of battle in defense of the balance, they may find themselves as a spirit of fury, blessing those of the Twilight Bound. A gentler druid, a healer perhaps, may find themselves as a mending spirit of the Dayward Way. All these such spirits are revered amongst the fae creatures of the world. For those most dedicated servants of the aspects, there exists a special opportunity in life, during the most unlikeliest of times. That is, to become a Guardian Spirit capable of traversing betwixt the eternal forest and the mortal realm. These most devout servants may find themselves visited by one of these spirits to be taught the highly secretive ritual. With this knowledge, they are given the secret that they need to become one of them, to be given the ability in the afterlife to make the journey and return as a Guardian Spirit of the Descendents. However, this ritual may only be done on the brink of death. In their last moments, a druid may send out a final plea, one last wish to stay on Æos, on this place that they’ve so desperately tried to protect through their whole lives. And then, they must perform the ritual. The Discovery She saw blood everywhere. It stained the grasses around her with a deep crimson hue, glinting in the sunlight. And she looked to the side, seeing a bloodied bone knife cast aside, lying among the leaves a few feet away. And then it shot through her, an agonizing pain in her abdomen and she cried out. She looked down, and in her arms was her heart; a crying babe, wrapped in a green shawl. And her eyes slowly shut, fluttering desperately to try and stay awake as she faded into the cold embrace of death. Awaiti sat up in her bed, drenched with sweat. She rested a hand against her stomach, flat as it always was. The woman turned, pushing up out of the bed to stand, staggering over to a mirror in the room. She gripped the sides of the table, looking into her reflection with a silent, but bewildered expression. Her amber eyes stared right back at her, betraying only fear. But that was all. There was no blood, no screaming, no crying babe to hold. It left her unsettled, and compelled her to grab her cloak. And with that, she swiftly exited the room. The flames in the brazier of the shrine always shone the brightest at night, casting light in every which direction, onto the grass, onto the statues of the aspects, and now onto Awaiti, who was kneeling before it, bowed deeply in prayer. “Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your blessing unto me… preserve me…” “Father, father please. Have mercy on your faithful servant…” She pleaded like this for hours and hours, until the first rays of daybreak split the air, casting shadows of the leaves on the shrine. And on and on she pleaded, tears staining her weary face. “I don’t want to go! Not yet!” And her eyes were filled with light as she keeled over, blacking out against the cold morning ground. What followed barely made sense to her, flashes of white and green light, the crying of a babe. Visions of light took shape as fae energies and her dream came back to her. She was suddenly on the ground again, covered in blood. She was screaming, crying out in agony. And once more, her eyes began to flutter off to the cold and gentle dark. “Breathe, child,” She heard a gentle voice call to her. “Let go,” said a strong voice. And she shut her eyes for but a moment. And then opened them with white light coursing through. In an instant, the place around her was filled with a brilliant flash of fae light, all erupting from Awaiti. Flowers sprung up, creating brilliant displays of red and blue and purple. Trees sprouted almost instantly, tearing up the earth. But all was silent for Awaiti. She could hear no voices, feel no life. Life itself had all but left her battered form. Instead, it was in the world around her. And she drifted off. Her eyes shut once again, and Awaiti, just as she had in her dream, passed on from this world. But then, she was truly alive. There was warmth, and it was good. Awaiti looked down at her own mortal form, and smiled, knowing that all would be well for her child. They would live, and go on. Her eyes flung open, and she was back on the cold, hard ground. Awaiti stirred, knowing now what she had to do. And so she stood, going home to her bed to await that fateful day. The Orison Ritual Druids look on as a hierophant passes on, the air lighting up with fae mists as the energies ripple through, causing flowers and other life to spring up! circa 1650, colorized “Mother, mother please… father, look down on me… I want to be brave... I don’t want to die!” The ritual itself was used a great many years ago, in ages long forgotten, as a secret technique used amongst some of the most powerful and wise druids, in order to continue passing on their knowledge and guiding their people even after their own death. Since, it has fallen from minds, into myth, and then into legend, and then forgotten entirely. It has only resurfaced recently, discovered by Sister Awaiti Aureon, who saw glimpses of the ritual during a vision of her own death. Flashes of light, blasts of pure fae energy that rippled through nature, allowing life to flourish in its wake. These visions stayed with her throughout her whole life. What Awaiti saw was her own body expelling all of its druidic energies in one single moment. This act kills the druid immediately, but the blast of fae energy allows anyone in the vicinity to feel the effects of a fae ring for the day. The very wave of energy that is expelled from the druid has a similar effect to a fae ring, allowing those around them to hear the countless voices of nature for the rest of the day. It would emblazon druidic runes onto the stones around them, growing large trees and bushes almost instantly in the now hallowed land. A circle of flowers would sprung up all around in a spiral, creating a Guardian Fae Ring around the druid’s lifeless corpse. The wave of fae energy carries part of the druid’s very soul with it, tethering it to the land of the living. This created an anchor to Æos, allowing the traversal between these two interlinked planes. Such is the path that all those druii who wish to return to the mortal plane must follow. They must seek out a guardian spirit and learn the secrets of this most sacred ritual Guides and Redlines Requires a TA in Control and Communism to teach the Ritual, as well as being the aforementioned Guardian Spirit. In order to teach the Orison Ritual, an existing Guardian Spirit must show their student the ritual through Greensight. Attempting the ritual in any capacity is a PK. Requires a MA to perform the ritual. Attempting the ritual is a PK, no matter the outcome. Once you die, you’re dead, spirit or not. Guardian Fae Rings Fae rings have always been notoriously awe inspiring and potentially dangerous, for they create links between our realm and the Eternal Forests of the Fae. Normally though, these Fae Rings only allow lesser creatures of the realm to traverse the planes under the light of the full moon. They have the additional effect of imbuing descendants, whether they be human, dwed, or elf, the sudden ability to hear thoughts, instincts, and raw emotions of the flora and fauna around the ring, giving an experience of attunement to the unattuned. This can be very disorienting for those that are unfamiliar with the raw orchestra of nature. These fae rings have only ever been created through the magic of the aspects themselves, being naturally occuring phenomena in the world. But, with the Orison Ritual, we find the first instances of a druid themselves creating these rings through their own powerful druidic energies. During the Orison Ritual, a massive explosion of fae energy is released directly into the land around a druid’s body. Many things are birthed from this influx of energy, including the powerful Guardian Fae Rings. These large spirals of flowers cover the entire area that the blast touched, hallowing the ground that they lay upon. Over this entire area, the effect of a normal fae ring is given, nature filling the ears of those who stand within the living spire. These rings act as normal fae rings, with a few exceptions. Normally, a Fae ring allows only lesser beasts of the Eternal forest to pass through it on a full moon. However, given the druid’s final sacrifice, it allows Guardian Spirits to pass through the realm of the fae into that of the living. Guardian Fae Rings have the unique ability to be created by the living as well as the dead. However, this process is extremely dangerous, and must be preserved for times of great need. By transcending to the eternal forest, a group of three druids can seek out any such guardian spirit and re-tether their soul to the earth. By doing this, the guardian spirit channels their own energies through the bodies of the three druids, transforming the fae ring into a guardian fae ring. This allows for the creation of new guardian fae rings from normal fae rings. It is important to note that Spirits are not tied to any one ring. Instead, over time, these rings begin to create an interconnected network of points that the spirit may visit. Usually these rings are placed around groves, or other places of pilgrimage for those that follow the ways of the aspects. These points serve as the anchors for spirits in the realm, creating holy sites around the world. As stated, guardians are tethered to these Guardian Fae Rings, tying them to that one particular site until they are able to move to a different ring. Guardian Spirits are only able to go so far outside of the ring before they dissipate, the bonds holding them to the world too weak and too far to hold them in any significant way. If such occurs, they find themselves drawn back to the Eternal Forests, unable to plant themselves on the world. They must stay there for a time as their spirit regenerates and recollects in order to return to the world of the living. Guides and Redlines Powerful druids can perform the ritual successfully and be taught it. In order to be able to become a Guardian Spirit on the mortal plane, you must conduct the Orison Ritual. The Druid must first pray, opening a connection with the aspects themselves. Basically grabbing the aspects attention. After such, a druid must expel all of their fae energies in a sometimes violent blast, depending on the age of the druid and their power. This can potentially hurt those around them if the druid is very old and very powerful. The blast caused by the druid causes a surge of life in every direction, causing plants and life to spring up where possible. It can grow trees in an instant, moss to grow on rocks in runic shapes. These runic shapes reflect parts of the druid. Only the Guardian Spirit that created them knows their meaning. The blast also creates a Guardian Fae Ring, a variation of a normal fae ring, a large spiral of flowers, leading to a circle in the middle. This is the exact spot where the druid died. A Guardian Fae ring is what allows a Guardian Spirit to travel between the realm of fae and the mortal plane. Guardian Spirits are tethered to these rings, unable to walk very far away from them without being called back to the Eternal Forest. This radius usually encompasses the size of a grove, or small settlement. Guardian Spirits may only make the journey through Guardian Fae Rings during a full moon (Once every elven day). However, it should be clarified that they may remain the realm of the living after the full moon has passed. In order to perform the ritual, a currently existing Guardian Spirit must teach you it, or have someone who already knows the ritual pass the knowledge to you. This follows suit for druids to create guardian fae rings. In order to create another Guardian Fae Ring, you require a living druid that knows the ritual. Being different from normal fae rings, it is possible to have both a Guardian fae ring and a normal fae ring at the same time. To transform a fae ring into a guardian fae ring, you require three druids who know the transcendence feat. By doing this, it allows the druids to find the spirit in the fae realm and allow them to push their energy through their own bodies into the ring. This creation acts in the same way as the normal creation would, with all of the effects. Must be a druid, and currently be Tier five in both Communion and Control at the time of death. Druids cannot be pulled back from the Eternal Forest after an Elven Month, as the Eternal Forest’s call is far too strong to ignore. Such is the nature of the Fae Realm. In order to be brought back from the Eternal Forest, you must have PK’ed entirely first. It is only allowed for fully PKed druids. A Druid must be able to pray before they die, and build up the energy to release it all. Any sort of instantaneous death would prevent them from doing such, and keep them from tethering their soul. This ritual can only be done while on the brink of death. Druids who commit suicide cannot do the ritual. Any druid blocked by Strength of the Abyss or other Fi magic would not be able to complete this ritual. The blast from the ritual is not enough to kill in any case. Only potentially knock back people. If the druid’s focus is thrown off during the ritual, it ends the ritual and they are unable to continue, missing their window. In order for druids to create a guardian fae ring, they need to gather more than 3 druids to pool their energy together to create this explosion. Without more than three, the combined strain would kill the druids involved. Even with more than two, the process is extremely taxing on the body. The Orison ritual requires the unaltered soul of a druid to be in their body in order to perform this ritual. Druids with altered souls, or those who have placed their souls in other vessels cannot perform the final ritual to become Guardian Spirits. This does not apply to the creation of Guardian Fae Rings. As the natural energies release, the spirit of the animal would release as well. It remains with the guardian as part of it or depart to the aspects realm. This allows shapeshifters to complete the ritual. Guardian Spirits cannot walk outside a certain distance from their Guardian rings. In doing so, they would be demanifested, and sent back to the eternal forest until they can return. (300 blocks) Iconoclast magic would demanifest a Guardian Spirit The Spirits A Guardian Spirit watches over the forest with a careful eye, taking after their original elven form. “Go, my faithful dedicant, into the mountain! There you will find a spiral of flowers… sit in it. Call out to her, to that devout spirit. She will guide you on this task. Now go!” With their spirit tethered to both the eternal forest and the mortal plane, the Druid would wake in the Forest, awaiting that next full moon, for that bridge to open between the realms. When the full moon flies, they may find themselves on a trek across a great birch bridge that stretches far into the cosmos, into the mortal realms, allowing them to awaken inside of the center of the Guardian Fae Ring in a brilliant display of light, standing in the grove created by their own death. This is the journey that all Guardian Spirits will take, should they partake in the Ritual of Orison. Upon their awakening, spirits are met by themselves, by their new spiritual figures. At first, they appear as themselves, given a transparent glow that reflects their own druidic energies. As time goes on, these spirits realize that they can shift their appearance to some degree, to make them look as they did at any point in their life. Through this, they can remove scars, and blemishes upon that figure, or tattoos that covered their skin, appearing truly as a servant of nature, without other worldly attachment. In their journey to the spirit realm, spirits find they may change into a host of different animals, accompanied by that similar transparency and glow that other Guardian Spirits give off. However, with an additional affect. Due to the spirit’s time in the fae realm, the essence of the eternal forest has rubbed off onto their animals’ giving them fae-like attributes. The spirit is just that. A spirit. They cannot touch or interact with the world. They will never again feel the embrace of a loved one, nor the wind on their cheek. They are dead, lost to the world. Incorporeal beings that merely exist as a passer of knowledge, a wielder of the torch of druidic power. Even at their strongest, standing within the fae ring, they are unable to lay a finger on the world of the living. It is the primary mission of all Guardian Spirits to pass down their own knowledge of the balance, and to guide the druids of the world towards a heightened understanding of what their duty is, and how they might attain it. They serve as powerful guides to all that follow the path of the aspects. To dedicants, they serve to inform and teach. To Druii, they seek to offer their different perspective on the world and how it may function. And above all, to Archdruii, they serve as powerful advisors in the face of great adversity. But they are just that. Guides, advisers, wise-men. Vessels of knowledge that lasted longer than they should have. They are unable to use the powers that they had throughout their lives as druii, save but shapeshifting, but they still retain their ancient knowledge of the arts. In times of great need, these spirits are able to pass on their understanding and power into the druii of the world in several ways, detailed a bit later. In addition to this, Spirits are also given a few smaller tools that they would use in pursuit of guiding dedicants, druids, and archdruii alike, without impacting the world on a physical level. Spirits are far more corruptible than our mortal forms. Aurum weapons that affect the spectral beings of the world would affect them just as a normal blade would, cutting away at their energies. Blight that would normally sap away at the strength of a descendent would eat doubly so at the Spirit Guardian, gnawing away at the very being of the guardian, until it is so weak that they are corrupted wholly. And perhaps the most dangerous among them all, are those that carry with them the strength of the abyss. To be touched by this ability is to be scattered, cut off from the world. Upon touch, the spirit is sent back to the realm of the fae, to recuperate once more. Such is a very effective weapon against them, capable of sending them away in an instant. Blight may even corrupt a Guardian Spirit more than it normally would. The spirit is more fragile than the body, and to those who are exposed to it for a long time, it may have devastating effects to their soul. Through time, they’re physically corrupted, and the soul is damaged, leaving their spirit broken. The blight addles their mind, casting a shadow of the ancient spirit. They become destructive, a draoi spirit. Their gifts turn dark, allowing them to grant darkened boons on their followers, on those dark druids that would destroy. As they continue down this path, these spirits are corrupted physically. They may be split open, or tainted visually, their souls torn asunder by the use of these dark boons. These now Draoi spirits haunt the realm, causing chaos and sowing discord throughout the land by empowering the dark druids, until they’re put out of their own misery, and banished from the land by the very druids they were sworn to guide. Banishment is a difficult process, though not impossible. It is a technique used by druids to sever a Guardian Spirit’s connection to the mortal realm, and works similarly to the unattunement ritual. A group of three druids must corner the Spirit, connecting with them via powersharing. After this, there are multiple ways that the druids could deal with the spirit. Potentially, the spirit has been feeding dedicants or other druii misinformation, misguiding them from the path of the Druidism. Or perhaps these spirits have views too extreme for the order, and must be cast out. Both of these are valid reasons to banish a druid from the mortal plane. Or perhaps a spirit has become fully corrupted by blight, making them violent Draoi Spirits. This is another reason to banish a spirit. Or even by request of the Spirit themselves that believe their mission to be done. Banishment is the act of releasing the spirit’s tether to the realm of the mortals, recalling them back to the eternal forest to live out their days there. This action can be reversed, in the same way that a guardian fae ring can be remade. The ritual is one in the same. Guides and Redlines Newly made Guardian Spirits always begin in the realm of the fae. In order to start roleplaying, players must wait until a full moon, or one out of character day in roleplay to re-enter the mortal plane. In order to enter and leave the mortal plane, a Guardian Spirit must do so through a Guardian Fae Ring during a full moon. All Guardian Spirits take on a glow reflecting the color of their fae energy in life. Guardian Spirits take the shape of themselves when they return, appearing unaltered by injury or bodily art. In addition, Spirits may change how they look in order to reflect themselves at different points in their life, to reflect and show how they themselves have changed. Removing injury or changing which point in life they appear as is entirely optional. Due to their time in the fae realm, spirits are capable of morphing into a different host of animals, with the addition effect of fae attributes. The addition of Fae attributes applies also to normal Spirits Guardian Spirits are completely incorporeal, and cannot touch or physically interact with anything in the mortal realm. They are ghosts, in that sense. They will never be able to feel the world of the living, at least physically. Guardian Spirits retain none of their ability to perform druidic arts that they had learned in life, save shapeshifting. However, they retain all of their knowledge in the arts, and still fondly recall the feelings of using their abilities. They instead gain a few other abilities to assist in their primary mission of guiding the descendents, and granting boons of the aspects. Guardian Spirits with a TA in any given druidic magic still keep the TA, but cannot perform the magic themselves, truly being a guide more than anything. Guardian Spirits can no longer perform control, communion, thulean druidism, blight healing, or herblore. Guardian Spirits can no longer teach unattunement, attunement, or shapeshifting. Golden Weaponry affects the spirits as a normal weapon would to a person. Blight corrupts the very soul of the spirit, being far more vulnerable to the effects of the blight. This causes Guardian Spirits to become Spirit Draoi, lashing out violently with all they have to corrupt and damage the world. This, however, can only be done through their existing gifts and receive none for becoming a spirit draoi. Upon their next ‘death’, spirit draoi are permanently killed. Players accept this on making a Spirit Guardian. Upon touch, Strength of the Abyss immediately sends guardian spirits back to the realm of the fae in order to remanifest. This action is extremely disorienting for the spirit, and takes a long time for them to return and gather themselves together. This takes one year in game (One week out of character) Guardian Spirits are able to be banished by the druids of the realm through the banishment ritual. However, they can be brought back through the creation of a guardian fae ring for them. The Mission Guardian Spirits under the full moon, 1650 “I am one with the Balance.” In life, it is the path of druids to protect the balance, to safeguard nature. To protect the wilds and those that live amongst them. When these druii die, they ascend to the eternal forest, to serve as soulbound spirits, wardens and wisemen of the fae realm. These spirits are revered as wise demi-gods next to the aspects, spirits holding immense knowledge. Creatures of the Fae come from near and far in the realm, from the Twilight Bound to the Dayward way. For those Soulbound Servants that return to the realm of the living, their duties must continue. Guardian Spirits are to act as guides, figures of wisdom amongst the druids of Atlas, and all other places to come. They walk amongst the order as highly revered teachers, and advisors, opening their wisdom to all that would seek it. This is their eternal duty, to serve and guide, no more, no less. Very rarely do these druids directly intervene in anything, choosing instead to give their assistance when asked, or to offer a boon from the aspects for dire situations. In some cases, they can even take up teaching positions within the order. Blessings of the Aspects A druid completes a task with the oversight of the Guardian Spirit, 1650 Guardian Spirits tend not to intervene in worldly affairs. Without the ability to hold a sword, or travel far beyond their guardian fae rings, they take up a more guiding role. Their time spent in the realm of the fae shows now though, and Guardian Spirits find that they have a few lesser abilities that they didn’t have before. These can be very straining for the spirit to perform, and only one may be used per day, that they might serve the spirit in guiding others. Greensight Guardian Spirits have the ability to reach out to the attuned minds, able to incur visions of the past, things that the Guardian themselves have seen, or even things that the subject has seen. This ability only works on a willing subject, when they allow the guardian into their thoughts. These visions can be as vivid or as vague as the guardian wills it. This can be used to suggest certain courses of action, or to show lessons that they themselves have learned. This only affects attuned druids and those affected by fae rings. Oversight Guardian Spirits bind themselves to a druid for a time, seeing what they see, hearing what they hear, allowing them into their thoughts. This must be entirely willed on the part of the druid and the guardian. During this time, the druid is marked with a green fae symbol upon the forehead, showing that they are a vessel of the spirit. This lasts until the subject no longer wills it, or the spirit leaves the body of another. Guardian Powersharing As was their ability in life, Guardian Spirits retain their ability to control and manipulate the natural energies of the fae, in order to pass them onto another druid. This greatly enhances the natural ability of the druid far beyond their own potential, exactly like how a normal powersharing is done from a living druid.. However, due to the fact that the Guardian Spirits consist of their own Fae Energies, powersharing dissipates them over time. After they've finished, they return to the Eternal Forest to replenish their being. Guides and Redlines All Blessings of the Aspects can only be performed once per day, while their energies replenish. Any attempt to perform a second blessing in one day will result in a failed attempt. During Greensight, both the druid and the guardian enter a catatonic state while experiencing the visions, they are completely vulnerable to attack until the guardian ends the vision or it ends. Greensight uses previously existing memories from either the Druid or the Guardian Spirit. This applies even to memories that have been lost. Can be used to revive memories. Guardians can manipulate memories to look as vague or vivid as they wish. They may also alter the vision to a limited degree, in order to show alternative choices, or make symbolistic changes. Druids and guardians can experience pain from the vision that may actually linger after the vision ends. This is all psychosomatic. The Ritual of Orison is taught through Greensight memory of the Guardian’s own death. Oversight is the ability for a spirit to bind themselves to a druid’s body, connecting the two. The Guardian Spirit and the druid’s senses are linked, and they can experience the sights, sounds, smells, feelings, tastes, and thoughts. This works vice versa as well, the druid being able to experience those of the guardian as well. In addition, this links their emotions, to a degree. Should the druid grow angry, the guardian may feel a surge of anger or so on. Druids experiencing oversight are marked with a fae symbol over the forehead, glowing with the color of the spirit’s energy. Guardian Powersharing works exactly like normal Powersharing, but after they are done, they dissipate to the Eternal Forest for an Elven Day. Feel free also to roleplay discomfort when powersharing, as you're sacrificing your own lifeforce to fuel another druid. A druid does these at will, they cannot be forced into it, nor can they force them upon others. A Guardian Spirit can only use one blessing per day Greensight must be completely willed on both ends. A Guardian cannot be let into the mind of another without it being opened for them. Guardians cannot cause physical injury through Greensight Visions. This does not apply to psychosomatic illness. As soon as a Druid does not want to be shown a vision, it ends. Closing off the path renders the ability ended. Guardian Spirits cannot be demanifested during oversight. Guardian Spirits cannot use other druidic blessings during oversight Guardian Spirits cannot interact with others outside of the druid they are bound to. Once clerical magic is used on the body of one being affected by oversight, the spirit is pushed out, ending the ability. If a druid does not want to be bound to a guardian spirit any longer, they are disconnected. This applies vice-versa. Guardian Powersharing shares the same redlines as regular powersharing. ((As all things, feedback is appreciated so that I can really make this lore enjoyable for everyone! Shoutout to Leowarrior14, Delmodan, ThatGuy_777, and Gladuous for giving me ideas and letting me talk to them about this!))
  22. ForeverGinger

    In the Dead of Night

    The Sutican streets were quiet as the daylight faded. The bustling crowd that gripped the city during daylight hours had dwindled as the cold shroud of night fell over the city, vanishing altogether as the sun dipped behind the walls. The creature strode through the city as if it owned it. The ends of its tattered robes swished against the cobbles as it wound its way through the city streets. Much had changed over the years, but the robed figure still enjoyed its moonlit walks. Night brought with it a pleasant sort of stillness, a quiet that was seldom found in a city. The robed figure wore the darkness like a cloak, winding around the city's drowsing guards as if they had never been there. The protectors were vigilant, but human nature will always win out in the end. It was not their fault, they were simply out of their element as the creature ducked around corners and scrambled onto rooftops. Even in life it had been good at avoiding attention, and death had done nothing to dull its sense of stealth. Eventually, someone would notice something -- A brief flash of brown, or perhaps the faint click of bone against stone -- but until then the robed figure walked the streets without a care. Not all was dark in the city, however. A faint light shone from the temple in the Central Ward, casting shadows along the streets. If the creature still possessed a nose, it would have wrinkled it in distaste as it approached the building. It knew it did not belong here, in this place of vile worship. If the clerics were roused from their sleep, they would fall upon the robed figure with fire and sword. They would bring with them the light, that burned its bones like the rays of the sun. This was a dangerous place for it to linger, and yet it did. They did not understand, the people of this city. There were powers at work here, puppets danced along the strings set for them and claimed it was for the best. Strings that bound them to a higher power, one that twisted their gifts for its own devices. There was no hope for those touched by the light. Sometimes when a wound goes foul, the best thing to do is to cut away the rot. That is what brought this robed figure to the City of Light. It was a reminder, a symbol of the balance that had been shattered since the Descent. It was a sort of bitter irony, the so-called saviors of mortalkind hastening their own demise. And yet no matter how much the creature spoke, no matter how much it pleaded, they would not listen. Words were wasted on those who refused to heed them. And yet, the creature was not without mercy. It was not without its own twisted sense of justice, one that called it to the city that night. It was mercy that drove the creature to leave a letter on the pulpit, a warning to the innocents of the city: There is a purpose behind my coming. There is a reason I haunt the streets of this city. There are powers at work greater than any can even begin to comprehend. I have tried to turn you from your path. I have spoken and preached, and yet you turn your eyes from the truth. This war has waged since before my creation, and will continue long after my final death. Tonight I will draw the line between the dark and the light, the mortal and immortal. Tonight I will do my duty, my small part to right the imbalance that has existed for so long. Those who serve the immortal, the maleficar, will find safety here no longer. May you find peace in death, as I have.
  23. Beorn15

    Alkheim's Adventure #2

    The skirmish at Dunsire Alkheim was once again wandering through the lands, his heart always yearned for knowledge. He wanted to know what was between the temple and Castle Pembroke. As he was wandering around, he saw a worn figure on a horse coming towards him on the road. The creature was slumped in his horse as if he had ridden for a long while. Alkheim, cautiously approached this creature. As they both decreased the distance between them, Alkheim began to notice that the person on the horse looked to be the size of a boy, however, he had the facial features of a man. Alkheim immediately realized that he was confronting a halfling. He greeted the halfling as he drew near, relaxing his grip upon his knife. The halfling looked up at him wearily. As he saw the young man approaching, a glint of hope seemed to come into his eyes. The halfling, asked Alkheim for help, for his hometown, Dun-shire was being raided by some sort of humanoid creatures. His fellow neighbors and relatives had either hid in the town, fled, or been slain. When Alkheim heard this he was greatly troubled, for the way the halfling describe the raiders, were the common description of Orcs. The halfling despratly asked the hooded figure for aid and protection to his home. Alkheim agreed to do his best to protect the town. Alkheim followed the halfling all the way to Dun-shire were he spent a day and a night there. On the morning of the second day, the halfling was showing Alkheim the destruction of these Orcs had done. Just as he finished talking, an Orc wielding an ax, emerged from the path facing them. Quickly, both Alkheim and the halfling drew their weapons. While Alkheim drew his bow, the halfling brandished his very short sword. Just as the tension was building up, another halfling sprung out of the trees with a sword in his hand. He rushed towards Alkheims side to help him. The Orc, growing angrier by the second, charged towards them swinging his ax furiously. Alkheim jumped to the side as he released the shaft into the side of the Orc. Both the halflings began to charge at the Orc, attempting to stab it. The Orc was stabbed several times until he finally wounded one of the halflings. Though Alkheim loosed another shaft upon the Orc, he could not save the halfling, the other halfling soon had the same fate as his companion, and he too also fell to the ground lifeless. Alkheim was able to fire 5 arrows into the body of the Orc as it charged him, but the Orc was too quick and too strong. Alkheim had to roll out of the way, dropping his bow and retrieving the sword of one of the halflings. Though Alkheim wounded the Orc severely with the knife, it was no match for the strength of the Orc's battle ax. Alkheim could not fight for long, and as he tried to retrieve his bow, he was struck upon the back by the thrown ax of the Orc. Alkheim slumped to the ground losing all memories of this encounter when he awoke. The Orc severed the heads of his enemies off and then fell to the ground unconscious.
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