Mayylene sat at the inn, inspecting the odd colored ingot in her hand. She flips it over thoughtful. Sea metal. Her thoughts flicker back to him, the one who had given it to her. She didn’t know people could live in the sea, without fins. She had alwa…
Bored….So bored. I mean seriously all these people sitting around smiling their fake smiles laughing to hide their insecurities, so unnecessary. The only way to truly be free is to let go of all that bullshit that bogs you down and just be. In the moment, the here, the now, the only place that matters….Ohh well they’ll all see one day.
Tristi rose from her bed with a yawn and slowly proceeded with her daily ritual. She made herself a decadent and completely impractical breakfast, got dressed in her favorite dress and slowly made her way to her prayer room. Once inside the true fun began. The man crying in the corner was not to be pitied. He was a thief and a murderer, and the bounty on his head truly meant his death wouldn’t bring sadness to anyone. and so he sat bound and gagged in that corner pleading for mercy beneath the silken cloth constricting his whimpers and moans. Trist slowly meandered towards him dagger in hand and removed the cloth. “Seriously, I’m sorry, Let me go and I swear ill turn my life around please PLEASE.” Too little to late Tristi thought to herself with a devilish grin on her face. A grin that only grew as she slit his throat and slowly let the blood run down the blood grooves in the floor towards her alter. It seemed to sing as the liquid washed over its base like the love of a long lost friend. and in its song she found solace. Solace as the dark energies built in the room, as the moans of the dead became as clear as the whispers of a friend. As the world fell away to show the truth none of them seemed to acknowledge . Her home… the deadlands.
Tristi walked through the portal formed by the vile creatures pitiful sacrifice. As she emerged on the other side she relished the cold void, and the dense sea of spirits scraping and vying for her attention. “I am not your damn messenger, BE GONE” She slammed her fist into the ground scattering the spirits with a wave of necromantic energy and made her way towards the necropolis that loomed upon the horizon. The trip as all ways was predominantly uneventful. Though the deadlands teemed with souls, most of them were weak and of little note. She made note of those who seemed to be growing and feeding on the others. Marking her snacks for a later date. As she approached the necropolis the groans and moans were replaced with the sounds of laughter and the screams of torment. Beautifully dressed spirits much larger that the rest seemed to be making a sport of beating, kicking and devouring those weaker than them. They teemed with glee as they devoured the energy around them growing and cackling all in search of ultimate power and freedom. With a soft bow she tossed the fresh soul of the criminal whose blood provided her passage in the first place. Immediately a fight began for the spirit. Fresh ones tasted best, and held more power as they drained they teemed with the last vestiges of life. as she approached the door she stood in silence staring at the iron doors and smirkling with glee as they slowly swung open.
Inside the Parliament loomed. Spirits both old and new who stood with such power that they called dominance over some portion of this realm. Barons and Ladies of differing power walked and talked, politicized and preached with the best of them. The treachery and forked tongues that lent them power in life seemed to have the same effect in the hereafter. She sat slowly next to a man, his wild hair and impish grin matched hers rather nicely. “Father…” she dipped her head to him as he sat watching the bygones boast of their stature and prominence. He spoke softly as the thwart off curious ears “You return again little one, have you done as i asked” Her grin turned sour at his words as she dipped her head slowly “Sorry Pa, but the souls of the righteous seem set on their path.” His scowl was immediately apparent ” I did not ask much of you. Only to strengthen our folk in this land. For that i souls strong ones ready to stand for our house and banner. You will bend them, you will break them, you will boil the shadows into their hearts. And if you don’t darlin’ then i honestly don’t know what need i have for you.” Tristi’s eyes turned green with flame and darkness for a moment before settling. she sighed softly straightening her dress “We all do what we have to Pa, I suppose this is going to be one of those things….”
People stared to notice new posting about the Calormen Empire. Simple postings about trees and buildings. Varstaad, New Tashbaan and all the other small towns and villages. The posting were simple and nothing fancy and the stated as follows.
Citizens of Calormen, I am looking for any who would like to join the “Keepers Of Calormen”. It is a grouop which will be dedicated to patrolling, protecting and making sure the lands of Calormen remain safe and as undisturbed as they can be. There are “things” brewing in the lands. “Things” that have an air of darkness and war. It is time that anyone that is able to protect and serve the great lands of Calormen join together and work together to keep our borders safe and controlled.
Please make your way to New Tashbaan and look for a small smithy and speak with a man named Grim. He is the Keepers smith and can give you more details. You can also seek myself out, I am Merrick Godfrey,
It is time to step up and work together in protecting Calormen,
The posting were simply signed “Merrick Godfrey,
Keeper”
– Added all 62 artifact helmets & hats to the crafting system. They require artifact shards to craft. – Helmets / hats can be found in by using the imbuing scroll. – The required skills are tailoring and blacksmithing- Added 8 new items to the cra…
Marius looked glanced over his shoulder, long tired of starting at the wall, his fingers practically numb from rapping on a table as the door behind him opened. Syrian and Loretto stepped through, both ashen. “How is he?” asked Marius. Syrian shook his head, whereas Loretto struggled to keep back tears before excusing herself. Likely off to find her sisters that she may find comfort in their company. More likely that she was leaving Marius alone with Syrian to have a long and hard discussion about the days ahead.
“Bentarum doesn’t have long. Days or so at most.” Marius nodded, trying to stifle a wave of nausea. The very idea of succeeding his father, something he had not planned on doing for some time, made him physically ill. Syrian draped a hand over his shoulder. “You’ll have our complete support, the council has already agreed to your succession and even now Bentarum has ordered that we begin preparing the ritual.” Marius wanted to speak, but his mouth was too dry. Their support was never in doubt, Syrian’s or that of his father’s council. His life would change, forever, and if he were permitted to visit Fracture at all it would only be in passing. The Tel’fahrians, or Ethereals as the lesser races called them had fought the demon princes eons ago, losing their foothold in Fracture in the process. Only a small portion of their ancestral holdings remained under their control, referred to as ‘The Gate’ for its link back to Tel’fahria. Those that served them, the humanoid races, were granted their freedom for their service in the war. They went to the surface world and brought the teachings of the Tel’fahrians with them. It was his mother that had brokered their freedom, so certain of their success. To some degree she hadn’t been wrong, and yet, having lived in their world for ages Marius knew all too well their failings. That was not to say they were beyond salvation, but the races who ruled the world of Fracture today were a mixture of their best and worst qualities. Some seeds of their teachings yet remained, none more prominent than ‘holy’ magic. Under his father’s reign the Tel’fahrians largely remained in their home realm where they prepared for the next great war. Some, like Marius and Arimus who hailed from noble and royal houses, traveled to Fracture to learn their history and to seek advanced warning of any impending threat to Tel’fahria from the demon princes. Living life after life there, continually reborn in the form of a human they learned the skills they would need to survive and to lead. Now, at his ascendant point, Marius was bound to leave Fracture behind.
Arimus would remain. After all, he was one of the war kindred. Leaving him in Fracture would be a better fit for him, a favor, besides he had ascended long before Marius. Still, he did not need to prepare himself as Marius did. His place was not to be king. True, Arimus would always be acknowledged as his twin. He had never been disloyal even in his disagreements with the family, even now with some of his questionable allegiances, in his heart he remained true to the spirit of the war kindred. The chaotic and shifting nature of Fracture suited him. He thrived on their struggles, bathed in their sins, and relished in a torrent of combat that gave the ‘mad’ ones their namesake. He was not mad, however, he was free. True, he was not able to accept a Tel’fahrian’s nature, but that is what it meant to be war kindred. Even if the native sons and daughters of Fracture rejected him, he would remain if for nothing else than for the battles. Like all war kindred, he would live out his many long days in exile, but to those like him who saw the Tel’fahrian way of life as torment he did not consider exile a punishment but the relief of the only burden he found too heavy to carry.
Syrian had been talking for a while now, with Marius only half listening. Of course he knew what was to be expected, he had been preparing for it for nearly a thousand years. Syrian glanced up as Erin and Ariel, his other daughters, came with news of Loretto. She’d gone to her chambers after she’d calmed down and would not be joining them at dinner. Dinner. He paled. His father was dying. Even if he’d always known it was going to happen and yet Syrian and the rest of their advisors were planning a dinner. Marius knew they were only doing as Bentarum wanted, and that he’d long laid contingencies for this day, and yet it seemed none of them expected that it would arrive this soon. Soon, was of course, a relative term. Bentarum’s reign had been an overly peaceful one that lasted what most could only count in terms of eons, he had seen their armies rebuilt, their stores replenished, and even reestablished an entry and exit point in the realm of Fracture. Certainly, the intention of The Gate was little more than the equivalent of a watch tower. The frontier of the realm, watching for signs of another incursion. It was also where Bentarum would be interred once the process of transferring his legacy had been completed.
Marius felt a lump in his throat. He had a family he would have to leave behind. A wife, as the lesser races knew it, even children. Would she raise them on her own? Would she abandon them as he was about to do? In her absence, would Arimus care of them? Would he be able to explain himself to them if he was given the chance to see them years from now? All very human, very mortal, thoughts. Such words, soon, would not be able to define him. Soon, he would rise as his father once had, and become Tel’fahria’s new Archon. Soon, his father would be dead.
He stood looking across the water, the mud from his travels clinging to his boots. Behind him, back towards the center of the town, he heard shopkeepers and tradespeople going about their business. Civilization continued to move forward.
“Civilization,” he said with a sneer as he watched the waters lap at the shoreline. He had been far gone from civilization for a great deal of time, wandering, searching. Sleeping on the ground, with nothing but the stars and the moon to accompany him. Hunting and foraging for food, and defending that food from the wild creatures that roamed the land. But now, he had returned to civilization. And he felt as if he were in prison.
He turned from the water’s edge, slowly making his way up the path toward the city center, back toward the bank & inn, watching those around him as the edges of his deerskin cloak fluttered about his ankles. He felt like an animal; a caged animal pacing along the bars of its enclosure, eagerly awaiting the moment it might make good its escape.
But had he not come here of his own accord? he thought, adjusting the sling of his might axe. And why had he returned? His former brothers-in-arms had left for exotic lands, eagerly searching for their next opportunity. It was business with them. They were a Company. Where the gold went, they would follow. Instead, he had opted to return to where he had come; the wilds. More specifically, the wild wastes of the Northern Lands, where the icy wind can cut deeper than any blade, and the pelting snow & ice battered incessantly. He had gone home. Or, at least, had gone searching for home.
But he hadn’t found what he sought. The clans of the North were nowhere to be found; what little evidence of their existence was found told of their departure. He knew many would leave, but not all. He never imagined they would all be gone. And so he wandered, travelling the frozen lands looking for nothing. He simply was.
The sound of horses hooves on cobblestone jarred the big man from his thoughts, and he quickly stepped out of the way as a slight man on a scraggly horse rode through the space he had just previously occupied. The big man snorted, adjusting the deer head & its antlers atop his head, and straightening his kilt. He didn’t know why he had returned here. He knew no one in these streets. He had yet to travel to the Company’s old Fort, but imagined it would be in disrepair. The Forge, once a proud place of craftsmanship and commerce, had faded into the background and become just one of many buildings surrounding the town. Without the influence of the Kade’s, the city had reverted to much as it had been upon his first appearance: calm mediocrity.
With a grunt, the large bearded man turned and began to move towards the western edge of town. He would go and see the Fort, or at least what remained of it. He would discover what it was that had brought him back here after all this time. And perhaps, he thought with a grim smile as he approached the great white bear that served as his mount, perhaps he might yet find the honor & glory he so desired. And the Goreshovel would drink blood again.
While we patiently wait for the server to get back up I encourage everyone to join IRC to be social and to keep better updated on the issues with the server and when it will be back online. and Thanks to all who are waiting patiently as we all know th…
She stood at the top of the light house, looking down over the water. Her mind was in chaos, her emotions turmoil. She had been visiting often now, once she discovered he was still around. Sitting at the tavern and drinking, the cowl wrapped around he…