Tales By The Fire

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  Maya's Journal
  • Robyn

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  Thank you for the kind words. I had a great time playing the character.
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  Deacon Sterr's Journal. (Former: A worn journal among..
  • FUArch

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  ((Wont forget garric man. He been a pain to Mae'Belle and Deac. ))
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  Journal of Shane Andryl
  • shadevar

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  For right and wrong ”One ship sails East and another West by the self-same winds that blow, Tis the set of the sails and not the gales that tells the way we go. Like the winds of the sea are the waves of time as we journey along through life, Tis the set of the soul that determines the goal and not the calm or the strife.” - Ella Wheeler Wilcox Choice and decision. Every action bears consequences, but every inaction bears them as well. Yet which of both we choose remains ours to decide. In this, the choice becomes our burden, and the result we must carry ourselves. Choice - Sir Blake is right in one thing. Division brings weakness. I had to make a choice. The Shield was built to garner strength from a union of faiths, serving towards a greater goal for a common good - an alliance. It’s foundations were upheld by a solid council, not to bring favor to each, but to protect itself from it’s own. Five speakers for each of the clergies, all equal with equal voice. No bias. No stalemates. No division. Strength in Union. A weapon ready to act, forged for the future. Much has changed. The Shield has grown in exactly that which we sought to protect it from then. There must be structure, true. No single group can wage a war without one designated leader. Yet the Shield was created to be one out of many. It’s leading voice was to be a voice of these many, not one. We each serve our own lords, our own Gods. In other realms, there are those amongst our own churches that would wage war against eachother instead of sharing a table of council. We understood that to stand in union in this land they call Narfell, such differences had to be set aside. We had to protect ourselves from our own prides. No favor, only equality, each with a clear purpose. Yet even in doing so we understood the need for singular command, and so out of five, one was chosen to to achieve this. One with equal word to all, but with the power to break ties through his own word, able to steer the Order through every-day tasks, with this council to watch over all. This, they changed. They changed the delicate balance of power within the Order that was created to avoid division. They changed it’s ways of command. One that spoke on behalf of the many, became only one to command all. In that, they changed everything. The Council in this became a shadow of what it was. No more does one of every church speak to guide the Order. Helm’s protection is absent from it’s word, and so are Lathander’s spirit, or Ilmater’s resolve. Strength in union, yet where is the union when each serve their own purpose? Where is the union when one Lord’s voice speaks above the others, allowing favor to be tipped to their own side? By their own hand, they created the division they claim to be wanting to avoid. Equality is lost. The real union has been replaced by idle beliefs, words of relational bonds. A family… One either belongs, or doesn’t. With the current ways that the Order commands itself, too much is dependant on only one. _“I look upon you all, my dear family and I have faith in the future of this city, and of other lands where we reside. Learn from this, but do not allow it to cause bitterness or division. In the name of Tyr, I absolve you of your sins. Let us start this day, once again a trusting family. Bless you all.”_ Lady Daisy’s words were high praise, such absolution a show of high trust. I should have felt their touch as it seemed the others did, let them warm me perhaps and leave it all behind. Allow myself to fall blind to what has been, with a new eye upon the future amongst brothers. Yet, I couldn’t. When I heard the blessing spoken, and saw the looks of pride and gratitude upon the faces of those I called brothers, all in the twilight of what had been spoken before – and what had not - I felt nothing but disgust. The good lady’s words embodied all that the Shield has become. A family needing absolution from a Tyrean to continue on. A mere shadow of itself, dependent. All the words felt like was a lie… When she left and the others finally broke the tensed silence that had been in the air for the whole meeting before with idle purpose, all I could consider was the futility of the whole charade. “A chain is only as strong as it’s weakest link.” Natanya’s words initially brought me great concern. Of course, much I knew already from within the Order’s own reports, yet still. Her words brought question. What impact would all of it have upon the Order itself, when those involved are exactly the ones that either lead now, or will lead soon? Natanya is kind enough, I don’t bear her ill wishes. Yet her weakness is this empathy of hers. It blinds her. She cares too much. She tried to be the rock that others could cling to, yet she suffers their problems more than she thinks. More than she can hold, I am afraid. Considering all that was told, the mistakes and failures, the grasp this forsaken gutterborn succubus spawn of a devil still holds over the Order, the way they still allow all of this to be their torment, all that has been done in an effort to overcome this evil, and all that is still being done now… No. They seek their personal strength in bonds of friendship, but in the meantime they continue to weaken the Order itself. They drive the wedge that will ultimately separate us all. I was forced to make a choice: either keep my trust in their ability to continue and see the right course, or to question everything and ensure that the strength of the Order remains. I chose to find the weakest link. Thanks to their own reactions, I found it as well. The meeting was little more than a joke. I will not contest that the called for inquisition in it’s essence was not conducted to the best of the Order’s abilities, no. I still hold respect for it’s judgement, as well as for the decisions of the Order’s leadership. They were wise enough. It’s the rest… the silence, the hidden truth, that urge to protect themselves from something they should not fear, hiding behind words of pride and insult upon their own. How in trying to cling together they forget to reason. Daisy could not have stated it any better had she actually wished to. Her own words confirmed my suspicions, along with the reactions of each and every one of them. The Divine Shield is no longer what it has been. The questions that stirred my primal concern still remained unanswered, and I believe now that only time and vigilance will answer them. Division brings weakness, and ultimately an end. In their own blindness, they chose to find their strength in union against me. My point was made by themselves. They themselves showed the weakness in the Order, the division that was already there. I cannot bring myself to concern myself over this any further at this time however. For now, my hand will not be the one that destroys the little that still remains of what the Order has been. For that, I gave my silence. For that, I now turn away from it, in order to protect that what still remains of it all. My focus now must remain on the war that is brewing to the East, and my duty there amongst my own, unburdened by the Order’s own issues, by it's division. I can only pray that they will still understand the wrong in all of it. For that, I turned my back and left.
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  Of Steel and Weave - The last of the Cervantès
  • Gaerielle

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  Journal of Sarvalos
  • Sarvalos

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  The next few pages include very little of interest, footnotes on his time in Oscura and all that he has learned it then picks up with some interest on a later page Day 14 This day in Oscura I got a chance to speak to the young man known as Aelthas, It is nice to have found someone my own age in these lands that Is so experienced with the blade, He has accepted to teach me a thing or two about swordsmanship, and after our first sparring match I have much to learn. I hope for two things from this arrangement 1.) I hope that I will learn much and improve my skill and 2.) I hope that perhaps I have made a friend. Day 15 The West Gate's alarm rang this day in Oscura, it was the first time I took up arm to defend the city I have decided to call home, I rushed out to where the defense would take place and was greeted with creatures I have never layed eyes on before, their hides were so thick that my Bolts did nothing but bounce off of them, I was rather dissapointed that I could not be of more assistance in the battle, but I stayed with the hope that perhaps one well placed shot may manage to slay at least one of the foul creatures. Luckily the horde of creatures was beat back and things settled down, we lost one man, an outsider of Oscura I believe, a man named William. Father Dagon was able to save his soul, But I wonder if he perhaps lost a bit of himself on the battlefield. Journal then trails off into minor details and reflections, sketches of some sword defensive maneuvers and strikes he saw in the battles from some of the more experienced fighters and other drawings, mainly of the creatures in the battle and of a Sauriel he met later in the day named Steelfin
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  Samson Swarthout: Chronicles of a Gentle Giant
  • Sam

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  The old one with grey hair was stooped as he shuffled off the ship…. He leaned heavily on a staff as his pale grey eyes, once a vivid blue with piercing strength surveyed the dirty docks of Peltarch. He was home.... at last. He shuffled down the plank onto the docks... eyes watching the uneven planks so as not to trip him. How long had it been.. 10.. 20 years? He wondered if his house even still stood. He wondered what had changed. He wondered if anyone was left alive who he cared about. Why wouldnt Helm just let him die? He was tired and the burden of his life weighed far more than his house and everything within. Nevertheless, he was home and yearned for the comfort of his chair and the library of books he'd collected over the years. He could read them all over again, and they would seem fresh and new to his weary mind. Perhaps no one would notice his return and he could live in retirement in peace.... finally.
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  Vive La Liberte: for Truth, Freedom, and Life.
  • Revenant13

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  They stood in the cavernous hall, brushing the snow off their garments and looking around. "So…how do we even know She is around? It's quiet enough to hear your own heart beating." "We just wait, I guess. I'm not keen to get lost in this place myself." Dick set Tomi on the couch and rubbed his hands. Then he looked up. For some inexplicable reason, up at the glass-domed ceiling, expecting to see the sight that captivated him previously, but also bringing along with it an unknown sense of dread... An overcast sky with grey clumps of clouds drifting past - but also with a hint of some ethereal light behind them, glimmering when it should be obscured by the clouds - and that hint of blue beyond… Harry came over. "You feel it too, huh? I can't get my mind off it… the anomaly suggests evidence of a bigger world out there, something beyond the senses, waiting..." Dick glanced around the deserted hall, with its crumbling staircase, stained glass windows, towering pillars, and cracked tiles. The place eerily resembled someplace out of his memory, his dreams...he could not recall where or when he saw it, but the sense of deja vu was palpable. "Once I fell asleep, and dreamt I was a butterfly. It was a wonderful feeling. But when I awoke, I could not be sure if it was me dreaming the butterfly, or the butterfly dreaming me..." Harry gave Dick a look. "Are you trying to fill in for Tomi's far eastern mystic philosophism?" "I just felt like saying it. Don't forget you're also a suscriber to that school of thought." There was a faint sound of footsteps, and the duo turned to face the staircase in the middle of the hall. And there it was, seemingly materialised out of the very air, in front of the painting. No word could describe the aura of mystery that it wore like a cloak, as it glided down gracefully towards them. Dickson thought he could catch a glimpse of emerald-green eyes behind the veil as the white-clad figure stopped several paces in front of them. "You have arrived." Dick cleared his throat. "Erm..that's right…you see, Tomi, she ah..." But the figure in white had already turned to the couch. Dick looked at Harry, who shrugged. "She was expecting us?" He mouthed. "Well, that contact of yours, what was his name, 'Rev'?...since he knows Her... It doesn't take magic to figure that out!" The figure in white turned towards them. "She is not suffering from any drug or poison. The affliction is of the mind, not the body." Harry broke in. "Does that mean she can't be cured?" The figure in white shook its head. "Not here. Carry her and follow me." Candles bathed the room in their yellow glow, and a sweet fragrance of dried flowers suffused the air. On a carpet in the middle of the room, the two of them sat, immobile, the signs of life only their periodic breathing motion. Suddenly, one of them began to twitch with increasing violentness. "Hold- hold her!" Dick exclaimed as he caught hold of one Tomi's flailing arms. Harry tried to do the same on his side and grunted in pain as the hand punched him in the stomach. Meanwhile, the figure had not moved, still staring intently into Tomi's eyes, but they lacked the spark of life. "Damn crazy bitch!" Harry yelled as Tomi's leg lashed out now and tripped him up, causing him to land heavily on his backside. Dick was too busy holding on to Tomi and avoid the jerking legs to make a reply. The violent motions continued for a while, and ceased as the figure visibly sighed and removed its hands from Tomi's head. "It's over?" Dick asked even as Tomi blinked. For an answer the figure merely stood up unsteadily and brushed herself off, moving towards the balcony. Dick and Harry released Tomi. "You okay, kiddo?" Dick bent down to look into her eyes as Harry rubbed his stomach and behind. "H-Hai…I think...that was very long bad dream..." Tomi shivered a little. "Well, it wasn't exactly a honeymoon for us either!" Harry shot back grumpily. Tomi suddenly grinned and hugged both him and Dickson. "Hey- what's that for? You're acting all strange again!" "Iie...that was for happy feeling, I happy to see you both again!"
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  Advance and secure, battle log of the Crimson knights
  • Kadosh

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  Lavenders Right Sized Adventure of DOOM!
  • AtelSpear

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  Excerpts of Tindra's Life
  • Kallethen

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  Natanya - Journey through Oscura
  • Yith

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  The tangled tales of the huntress
  • mirrormirror

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  Devlin wanted to ask her tribe to trade for the right to mine the malachite in their pass. The two walked the road through the plains and ignored the orcs who let them be. He all in yellow and black, she in hide the color of cliff and tree. “He don’t care for me too much, the shaman,” she warned. “Oh? Why is that?” “Because he were wrong about my birth, probably. Parents still joke with him.” She could have mentioned the time she and a few other children sewed his tent flap shut, but she decided to keep that to herself. When they reached the camp, she nodded to the warriors standing at guard. The shaman approached them immediately, before she had time to think what she’d say. “Eh, shaman, this is, er, Dev.” “You bring a stranger to our camp?” He interrupted. “He would have come on his own.” “She is right, shaman,” Dev said. “I have come on my own terms, and I have come to speak to you.” “We’ve hunted. He has kept me alive before,” Kestrel added, hoping to stir the shaman’s hospitality, but the shaman seemed to look through her with an expression she had only seen her father wear. The shaman produced flint and tinder and made a small fire. “We will speak while this fire burns, no longer. Sit, speak.” “So be it,” said Devlin. Kestrel plopped down on a nearby rock to listen to the men. “My name is Devlin, of the Northlander tribe. And I ‘ave come ta ask if ye would be interested in th’ idea o’trade.” “Trade is always welcome, what do you offer and what do you seek?” “I seek only a very small amount o’ malachite. An’ I offer anything ‘at ye would be needin’ in turn. Food, gold, medical supplies.” Kestrel smirked at the suggestion they were in need of what any child could find in the woods. “Oh, I thought you would want something important,” the shaman chuckled. “The ore is not something we use, and it is of the land. It is not ours to give or take. What you actually ask for is permission to be a guest. And as a guest you would be welcome to ‘wone’? Is that the wone? Mone…. Mane… mine!. Mine the ore” Devlin smiled. Kestrel stilled a chuckle building in her throat. “But do you understand the guesting ways? While you are our guest, we feed and shelter you, but while you are our guest, our defense is also yours. If something attacks us while you stay, you man the defense alongside the warriors.” “I understand. An in such generosity of the Featherflights, in the eyes of Tempus, it is only right to in return offer such defense.” “This is not a small thing. We have enemies. Why else do you think so many stand near the front?” The shaman gestured to the warriors milling around them. “While in our camp, you will respect our taboos and our ways of doing things. If at some time that becomes too much, you know the way out.” “Then I would agree, upon learning these ways of your tribe.” The shaman stared directly at Kestrel. “You know what I am going to say, don’t you?” Kestrel nodded and gave a dramatic sigh. “The wild child will have responsibility, and you know the depth of that responsibility. His actions will be on your head.” “Right, right,” she mumbled. Why did he have to call her that? The shaman frowned in the profound yet speechless way an elder can. Devlin smiled smugly a bit at watching their interaction. “I mean, yes, shaman. I understand.” “Better.” ”I’ll teach him over the next few days then.” “Teach him the old ways, the ones he needs to know. Not the ones you might enjoy teaching him.” He glared at her and she cowered some, even now when she was his height and had stared orcs in the eye. The shaman turned back to Devlin. “You are a guest then with all that comes and goes with it. She is an adult. I will not make rules I cannot enforce, but her brothers might.” “I know what you are implying, shaman. I will behave,” Devlin said, obviously conscious of the warriors forming a circle around them. “You, I am not worried about,” the shaman said. “Her, on the other hand, I know all too well.” Kestrel shot a glare at the warriors and any of her tribesmen who dared to grin at the comment. With that, the shaman showed Devlin the way to the vein and day turned to night.
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  Confessions of an Outcast - Adelia Allen
  • Fadia

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  5 years before Narfell Jurana's words still echoed within poor little Agona as she deposited herself unglamorously in the nearest out-of-the way spot on the busy Saerloon street for a good bit of sulking. Should this really have surprised her? Probably not. It's not like Jurana and her friends actually cared, anyway. I mean, they're adventurers, they have more important things to do than take care of their families. Seriously. If Jurana won't even come home to try to help her poor, plague-afflicted mother, then what will it take for her to see what's really important? All things considered, it almost seems like they wanted her to die. It makes sense. Always needing money for this and that, it must be terribly frustrating for her to have to provide for her mother, father, and sister on her own like that. Selfish bitch. She wants to keep all her gold to herself and not have to share it with anyone. That's why she didn't want her to go. Just another person to have to divide the gold from their latest adventure with. Another share, less gold for her grubby little fingers. And after all why not. What would one more share be? Just a drop in the- "Dear, are you alright?" Crouched before Agona is a young, fair-skinned woman with dark hair and beautiful, deep brown eyes. Though she's no elf, she looks as if she was born to wear the loose, glittering elven robes that adorn her nigh flawless features. "Dear?" "I…I'm fine." "You certainly don't look it." The woman smiles. "I'm Louhi. What's your name?" "Agona." "Agona. Pretty girl. What's got you so upset?" 3 Tenday after coming to Narfell The hobgoblin awoke to find himself in a most unfavorable position. Lashed to a tree someplace that didn't smell all that much like home, his vision came back into focus. It was dark, that much was obvious. On top of all that, he could tell that he was either totally naked or close to it, and felt some strange, uncomfortable sensation on his chest and stomach. "So, you're awake." The beast jerks its head towards the voice. A soft, lilting female one. "Good." Adelia slinks forward, and traces her finger along the circle painted in deer blood on the hobgoblin's exposed torso. Her captive doesn't seem to like this, and squeals in protest. She simply grins. "I don't particularly like your people, dear. Especially not after what one of them very nearly did to me just the other day." It's obvious the captive doesn't understand. She continues anyway. "That said, I have decided to grant one of your kind a rare honor. This would be where you come in." She smiles at the creature again, then turns to the items she has set out on the rock behind her. Incense is lit, filling the area with a sickeningly sweet aroma. She tolls a small bell, which produces a surprisingly deep sound. Finally, Adelia draws a dagger, and makes the first of many ceremonial cuts in the flesh of the unfortunate creature who, quite intentionally on Adelia's part, is alive for most of them. 5 Years before Narfell For the first time in her life, Agona had found someone she could truly confide in. Louhi listened to everything she said attentively, never judging, always sympathetic. When the invitation to go back to her house was proposed, little Agona was all too willing to accept. Hand in hand, Louhi brought her to a small, out of the way inn located in one of Saerloon's many dark back alleys. There was no sign saying what the place's name is, simply a small board by the window with the word "Inn" painted on it in ancient, worn pigment. The inside was like a nightmare. Patrons lay dead on the floor, blood and ale were everywhere, covering food, furniture, and decorations alike. Oddly, Louhi was unperturbed. She led Agona around the bar to a trap door which sat open, through which one could hear agonizing screams. One scream in particular struck her. Jurana.
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  Tales of a Vagabond
  • The_Vagabond

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  That day came at midsummer of that year. It was late in the night, when he was awoken to a bright light. A torch, a beautiful shining flame, was suddenly ignited inside the dungeon. His eyes flew open and took a moment to adjust as he thanked the Flamelord for the warmth of the fire. Before him stood Odalliaus, one of his masters who was present as a simple student at the time he was taken from his parents. The Monk looked at V for a short moment and then gave a small grunt as he moved to the shackles and unlocked them. V looked on at his Master strangely, unsure of why such compassion was being shown him. After all, in his mind, he had come to believe as they said…he had brought shame, ruin, and failure to the Salamander. “You should not be locked here. Of all our students, you have proven yourself most capable of understanding the ways of the Salamander. The other Masters, and myself I shall admit, were scared of what you would become…of what would happen if one as strange and foreign as yourself truly understood the talent you had. You can not stay here, I can not allow such a inner-fire as you have to be wasted such as this.” With that, the Odalliaus shoved a letter and a bag into V’s chest. “Take this, you must leave here. Head west, and do not stop. You must always move, always travel, for you will likely never be accepted by people. You must always travel, and survive, so that you can continue to learn and find the secrets of the flame hidden within you.” “As my last order to you V, you shall be given three Trials you must complete.” “The first is the Trial of the Body. When you have stopped for a short time, you must find the heaviest armor possible and the most obtuse weapon and you must train with them. Feel what it is to have such a barrier between you and your opponent, and such restriction upon your body. Feel what it is to be burdened with such a weight and to strike forth with such unfamiliarity. Only then will you understand the freedom the body finds when you allow it to be unleashed.” “The second is the Trial of the Mind. Focus upon the world around you, upon the secret strands that touch all of us. Meditate upon the mysteries of magic and how they relate to the great lord’s flame. Through your breathing and meditation, find a calm within your mind, so that you may be able to go there whenever you find yourself in need of clarity.” “The third and final is the Trial of the Spirit. It is then you must focus inward, within the flame that burns within you. Find your center and see what path is blazed from that point, so that you may follow it. Find the peace between your inner-flame, your centered mind, and your unrestricted body. It is only then, when you find unity of Mind, Body, and Spirit, that you will truly begin your passage to enlightenment.” “Go now, beyond those Trials I can teach you no more. Let yourself travel this land and be like raging fire, unrestricted and uncontrolled, traveling wherever the wind takes you. Do so quickly, lest you are caught. May the Flame Lord watch you, and may you discover the potential that is buried within you.” With that, Odalliaus ushered V from the dungeon and the monastery. He was placed upon the wagon leaving the country that night, and began his travels westward upon the road, still a Vagabond, but now finally truly free.
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  North Springwater's return
  • Boberto

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  Stepping off the boat North took a deep breath and took his time collecting his things. Which wasn’t long considering he only traveled with necessities, for his trip home he only brought his armor, few cloaks, a few outfits, sword, dagger, and bow; along with all the gold he could accumulate. Looking around he though of how familiar it all still looked, and it brought a smile to his face. The city was still there, the people still alive, and building still standing, what more could he ask for? He figured first off he’d see what had become of Ting and Lydda’s market. He checked Leti’s market but it was pretty dusty, it seemed someone else had tried to use it as a hide out, A shady looking hin who went by the name or Zar. North scared him off with a few lies and his last smoke bomb. Ting was said to be dead and Lydda hadn’t been seen for over 6 months. North suspected Ting was fine, just dodging trouble, but Lydda he wondered if she would make it on her own. North prepared to journey to jiyyd to look for more people, he hoped the road was clear-ish. The Captain roused North up from his sleep, “Mr. Springwater, it’s time, we’re a half day’s journey from Sembia port, another five from Yhuann”. North nodded and went to the restroom. North had been lucky to ready himself a night prior to the captain’s warning. North grabbed his small sack and threw on his cloak. Luckily the ship wasn’t made only for passengers so his quarters were above sea level. This comes in handy for sneaking out one’s window on a ship. North made is on deck from his small bathroom window, big enough for a hin. He quietly found the dingy he had pack a few nights ago and waited under it’s cover until the night crew went to sleep. It wasn’t long before he heard footsteps and the loud rowdiness of sailors pass him by on their way to their quarters. He had a short time before the day crew finished breakfast and would notice the lifeboat missing. North heaved on the boat and slowly he pushed it down its small ramp to the side and held the ropes as long as he could until he was back in the boat. It fell at a rapid pace and he hoped it wouldn’t smash apart when it hit. Good thing it’s made of decent wood . North’s short try at bowing taught him at the least the differences in the wood and their qualities, he liked carpentry better in the end. North waited under the boat cover until he could no longer see the Ship from his boat. He took off the over and attached it to the mast; he put up the mast and tied on the boom. Sailing wasn’t his great skill (as it is cross class :P) but he knew the general concept and got the dingy going in the right direction before long. He had to get to land quickly, and then to the port in Yhuann before the ship he just left docked. He new his name on a passenger manifest would raise attention so he had to see who was still aware of his being alive, and what they planned on doing to him for returning. North made it to Jiyyd with out too much trouble, the pass was still the same, some mountains a bit blasted it seems, the new hobgoblin force almost caught him off guard but with a quick dash for some cover he lost them easily. Narfell wasn’t much different then when he left. But the faces of the people there have seemed to change. Elridith was still alive, couldn’t find the human May, he hoped she and her child were well as he started heading to Norwick to see who was still around there.
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  Frazh's tale
  • Oxidian2005

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  Frazh's Reborn ((Part 4: The cause)) Frazh was ready, ready to die, but he would take the beast with him, the beast and its master, and he would save his friend. Stay back! I'll get rid of him!runing to the confrontation Rock Jumped over Frazh but he was able to dodge the attack, He knew how the orcs reacted, he had studied them for years! and He wouldn't fail now. In less than a second he had introduced the hook into his kneck, killing Rock instantly. Sudenly a bolt of energy came out from the woods in the direction where Frazh was. Elenyl jumped over Frazh to save him but the ray hit him. Arrggg… Noooooo!!! Leaving Elenyl bleeding to one side, Frazh stare looking at the woods. Come out! I know you are there! An evil slaughterWhat a pitty, I think I've killed your friend… You bastard! You will regret! Frazh ran to him dodging dark energy rays the banite was throwing him. when he was enaugh near to aim, he threw the hook into the banites head… Don't die!… We can make it! We are free! at last!! do not die!... F..Frazh… Thankss... I've always wanted to die at the forest... deep in the woods... I... I... Don't talk that way! You are not going to die!!… Don't.. don't leave me!some tears could be seen falling from Frazhs cheeks Culpability, Frazh felt culpable about his Friends death. Even though he had taken him out of there, which was his promise, He felt he could have done something more… No, he new that the one who had to have died was him, why did Helm still watched over him?.. For a Year he lived out in the woods. He learnt how to move in the forest, how to track to find food. And during his stance there He hunted orcs, to keep the roads safe to travellers. He still following Helms dogma, but in a different way, he protected the forest, which had his own laws, his own rules. The trees, the animals, the travellers... He was protecting them all at once. One day, Frazh was on his daily patrol. And some travellers were crossing the woods. Some orcs raid them. Frazh fought and killed them all. Follow me, I'll take you to a safe place. Thanks, may Helm bless you… Frazh stares at the helmite simbol the man wore on his armor… Sir, you alright? Yes, sorry… That Night Frazh understood why he still alive. Helm, this has only been a lesson?… I need an answer. Been living at this forest for about a year... But I am not sure If I stil a Helmite... I don't know even who I am. I was born to protect, that's something I am sure about... everywhere I am, even at this forest I protect! I watch, I am always ready for the dangers... But I failed, I have doubt about my faith. I will never be able to wear a plate again, my bones will never recover from the tortures, I will never be able to defend as I used to... But I think I still a Helmite, I will protect what I can... I've learned to kill orcs in a manner I never thought I could... even with plate. I just hope, you still at my side when I need it... some bright is seen at Frazh's eyes. I think it is time to go back, to go back to Narfell... I was sent there once for a reason, and I don't know what it was yet. I know they will still need help with the orcs arround there, and that's something I can protect them from... Helm, gide my steps! Frazh arrived Norwick some weeks later…
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  Lucidious
  • Lucidious

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  Lucid plays a pattern It was a box of polished silver trimmed with red and gold. the red patterns were along the box edges, making them seem sharp as thorns. The gold traced delicately though from edge to edge over its surface in a seemingly endless mess of lines, no rhyme or reason to it. The elf sat in the old chancellors chair staring at it, hoping to pick out something meaningful, a mark or -something- he had missed all those other times toying with the thing. Nothing. He wrinkled his nose and leaned back in the oversized chair. with a quick practiced motion, the elf brought a spell to focus. The candle light seemed to dim a moment. Lucidious squinted, as he always did, though he knew the spell had nothing to do with his natural eyes. The gold pattern soon became a series of glowing threads in his mind. They moved, peeling away from the silver box. The threads floated in a space in around and though it. Nothing seemed to hold them in place, but they did maintain a shape. He began to rub his chin with his left hand, his right then arching over the box, brushing against the threads. They reacted as they had before, swaying to his will rather than his motion, lifting toward his open palm then settling back into their original shape. A big glowy golden mess of a web. He held his hand over the box a moment, getting a feel for the pattern…following the threads with his mind as far as he could till they blurred together into obscurity somewhere at the center. He knew, if he could not grasp that far, he'd never open it....despite that thought, he tried again. Drawing a breath, he held it a moment, then opened himself to the pattern as he exhaled. Unconsiously, the elf worked his fingers, pulling at invisible threads as a puppeteer might work a marionette. He knew it wasent necessary to move a all, but he couldn't help it. It just felt right. The pattern ebbed, bending around his will for a moment, until he was able to grasp at a starting point. Then, drawing just enough from the weave, he focused the power from his pattern to that of the box. The thread he had caught glowed in response. Others in the pattern slowly faded as others then grew brighter. He grinned at that. It felt like a big game to him. A puzzle that begged to be solved. He watched the power from the weave trickle down through the pattern, connecting one thread to another, flowing at his will. He connected the points made sense to him, those that felt right to him. He had only just begun to relax and enjoy the game when a center thread collapsed, fading from view. With a frown, he worked faster, following as far as he could, but the other threads were fading as quickly as he worked. It took but another moment before the thing collapsed completely, growing dark in his mind. The power from the weave slipped from his grasp spilling out into the room. It was again absorbed my nature, becoming apart of that ambient glow always present when he could see magic. The elf sighed, then gave a small smile as whatever empowered the box took hold of the threads again, leaking just enough power to revive the pattern. The gold threads rose up, took shape, and the original pattern came back to life. Propping his feet up on his desk, Lucid leaned over to pull a small flask from the drawer with a sigh. He took a mouthful and grimaced, it burned going down. He never bothered to ask Penny what it was, but he made a mental note to ask. He loved the stuff, whatever it was. He turned back to the box, taking careful sips every now and then, considering what to try next with his new toy...
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  Cike's Days Off
  • Kell_Durand

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  Summer XX Cike drove the last stake into the ground and knelt before the makeshift marker. This one was for Connie, the youngest child of Wendel and Fiana. He prayed softly to Nobanion and sighed. Rising slowly he looked upon the rows of markers he had planted; his kin. Kell yawned from the tree she was resting under and continued to watch her human quietly. He walked to his tent and gathered a towel and a clean change of clothes making his way to the bathing stream. As he approached the waters he paused and stared into the crisp blue waters at his reflection. His hair still a shock white, did not seem so out of place now that his face had thinned out and the stubble of hair on his chin now a full beard. Time had passed by him the wrinkles showing on his sun beaten face. He touched the rough texture of his skin pressing and pulling at his features wondering where the time had gone. He looked about and half smiled to himself answering his own questions. A burned forest does not return to normal in a day. Slowly but surely he had buried his hatred. He was finally done. He had buried his past. The years and hard work he put into the forest had made sure of that. He looked at his brown and course hands wondering if he could still swing a sword or fire a bow. He had grown and matured but surely he had lost much of his skill. He smiled, better that then to rush into battle, death only brings sorrow to those around you. Cike looked back at the markers. A foolish death, a foolish hatred. Cike quickly washed himself in the stream and dressed making his way back to his tent quickly to search through his things. Finding his old sword he unsheathed it and looked at the craftsmanship and let the light bath in the steel. He rummaged more within his tent and pulled out a small bag within it the reason he left Narfell, the reason he sought to change himself and to grow up. The reason he buried his past; it was Lilin’s ring. He sighed sadly and lay on his back letting the rays reflect off of the gold ring as he held it above his face. It had been so long; surely she had already moved on. He was never really a good person, he knew that now, had plenty of time to reflect upon his relationship. It was better this way, he could not have made her happy with the way he was. Now . . . he paused and turned his head away a summer breeze blew over him its hot musky haze sticking to his skin. Had he really changed? Was he any more different now that he was back then? Could he make her happy? The questions revolved within his head as Kell silently made her way towards him. She rested her head upon his stomach, ignoring his squirms of protest. “Kell, we aren’t in Narfell I keep telling you it is too hot here to be laying upon each other.” He sighed as he returned the ring to its small leather pouch and began to stroke Kell’s head trying to ignore the heat. There was hardly a winter here in the jungle, Cike wondered what it was like in Narfell right then, his mind picturing Norwick and Jiyyd, the wooden battlements covered with snow, the Wolves Den, and finally his friends. Those he left behind, how he wondered how they faired all this time. Did they miss him? How he wished he could have wrapped them all up and brought them back with him. But this journey, this growth had to be done alone he knew that. He closed his eyes to the ache in his heart and let the afternoon heat whisk him off to sleep; visions of Narfell flowed about his dreams.
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  The Oath
  • Ice_Blade2097

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  In the cool breese of morning Alexi arrives at the port wincing slightly and pausing for a moment to change the bandaging on his woulds, before staring at the ring on his finger then back down South. He doesn't seem to notice the approach of the captain nor the hussle and bussle of the crew as they set anchor and begin unloading the boats contents. With a slight tap on the shoulder from Tormous he slowly glances back with a tired look then nods slowly to him as if already knowing what will be spoken to him. Tormous) Well here, we are lad,if ye nea be minding I will be takeing me me payment now. Alexi nods slowly tossing Tormous a pouch of coin then slowly lefts his already packed pack that has not moved since he boared and slowly begins to walk off the ship before stopping Alexi) How long ye be in port? Tormous) Eh for a while, why? Alexi) Might want to stick around may be more coin in it for ye Tormous) Like how much we talking eh? Alexi) How does 100 coin sound for staying in port till I come back and another payment of coin much like what ye just recieved if ye take me elsewhere. Tormous) 100 coin!? Heck with that I can buy me one of the deluxe packages in the inn here! YE GOT A DEAL! *Alexi nods slowly * Alexi) One more thing, who is the person Im susposed to talk to? Tormous) Ohh ya, almost forgot, he name be ole Delar but we like to call him Ole One Timer winks, he be the port master up here ye can probably find him in his office, it nea be hard to find just looking for the limping ladies grins Alexi) quirks a slight brow Ole One Timer eh? I can only imagine what for. Tormous) chuckles Ye will see soon enough, grins, anyways he might be the one ye want to talk to about ye lady friend, he keeps an close eye I guess ye could say on all ladies entering and leaving the port. Ye can find me in the ole Jumping Kegs, to give me his update, he should know ye coming sent word to him before we left. Alexi) nods Jumping Kegs eh? Quirks another brow before noding slightly Before I go tell me have ye ever been to the lands of Everska? Tormous pauses as he heres the name Tormous)Everska eh? ehh that sorta far for a land legger, simple merchant such as ye self to go ain't it? Alexi) Perhaps, though I do hear they have some of the nicest wares for sale, of all varieties, gives a slight smile Tormous)rubs his chin for a moment beforing grinning slightly Nea, been there meself but I know a few that have, rubs chin off all varieties eh? Alexi) Aye, I hear some of their wares are the talk of releams, chuckles Tormous) Heh, seems to be contimplating these wares Alexi speaks of with great interest I will see what I can find out for ye. Alexi nods chuckling slightly before tiredly walking off the ship heading towards Delar's office occasionaly looking for some limping ladies along the way.
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  "Might, Mischief or Mayhem?"
  • d3lsvirf

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