Tales By The Fire

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  Igor book o stuffs-By IGOR
  • Eminemenemese

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  Before Brisingr could finish reading the book,the battle horns sounded,the humans had started their march toward the orc palace,whom with which they had been allies for years(remember,this is an Unknown time and place). Orcs were heard thundering down corridors to suit for battle. Before long, the siege had started its attack as well,taking out towers and the those who dwelled inside. Finally,the Gate Destroyer was brought out,having cought the orcs unprepared,the gate was bashed with only few warriors inside. The mages,always at the ready with little to prepare,began casting in sync,and took out numerous amounts of the humans.However, with the peace that had lasted for so long,the humans were prepared for this and brought them down with a battalion of arrows. Soon, Brisingr could hear humans marching down the halls and the screams of the merciless orc slaughter. Too young to wield a sword,brisingr ran through the what seemed endless rows of archives and into the Ancient magic section. He quickly searched for the forbidden spell,only heard in the elders stories. As the humans drew closer to their target,bashing down shelves and tearing apart books, Brisingr had finally found it, the Incinerator of Merciless Slaughter scroll.It was said that this spell would wipe out the race in which was called out in their tongue after chanting a long and dangerous verse. Brisingr's eyes began to shine a bright purple as he began enchanting the words that had been inscripted in the ancient scroll. As the humans finally found the young orc,they began to slowly walk up to him grinning to one another.As Brisingr finally finished the chanting he shouted as loud as he could the word "HUMAN!!"… To be continued..
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  Ohtar'a Vell'taure
  • Stauffer16

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  Ponderings and Thoughts of an Old Wolf The old wolf sat hunched in on himself, cloak drawn tight against the whipping cold wind. He leaned against his chosen walking staff of the day, the gem cut one that Cotton had first given him in exchange for the mage staff. He glanced at the gem set in its peak and smiled sadly. He reached over and touched the patch of Shain'sul's pelt sewn into his pouch, as his intense gaze shifted through the rest of his items…Each adding its own story. Grivel's brother's ring, Rass's belt, the boots for helping the elven encampment with his brothers, Arah's old blade, the statue Lo'en had given him, and so many more... So much has changed… He smiled sadly as he often did when alone and remembering his path. _So much has changed since i first came to these lands. The old circle is all gone now. Fade and the others, and the old wolves. So many others lost as well. But the defiler is gone as well. Defeated finally, that is a night i will never forget…. The gypsy camp and elven camp gone...Norwick changed. Yuan-ti, Saurus, Vrock and other demons...Old for new. Ever is living a struggle. Lo'en and Nawen...found and lost. Stars in the sky that i can always see... along with all of the others who have taught me, fought beside me and walked their pathes in harmony with mine._ He smiles and glances to the night sky as his random thoughts subside. He nods slowly to himself and rises, stepping out and falling down from the tree limb to land smoothly on his feet. He glances around quickly to make sure no one was looking. The wood is just as empty as it looked. He grins wryly and assumes his hobbling posture. The wind pulls the cloak from his grip and he grins even more. The stars to guide you and the wind to pull you along. The wind always speaks to me since Lo'en… Time to see where it blows an old wolf tonight. The old wolf hobbles off north towards the fires in the woods.
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  War in Norwik (Meade's View from Under a Hat)
  • Koros_Ty

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  Kayleb's Penance...
  • Kayleb

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  Might that have been, Lord Illmater? I think I walked through the nars pass and saw that lol Reply and let me know if that was you :?
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  Julian Everwood- The Full Story
  • Lynslayer

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  Merum Faldenfare's Divine Order Report
  • Spartan

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  Alejandra sings tales of Narfell
  • naumatt

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  The first song Alejandra sat down to write about her experiences in Narfell has only been sung but a few times… singing: _a mother's love, a father's hate / these two small things commanded fate a boy not born, life already torn / and death, death was the stakes to Waterdeep, our story takes us / to dark cruel world, the boy was thrust he grew up feared, feared himself / to build a life, in life unjust he grew up fast, in mother's pain / it was glory his father sought to gain glory and power, and life hereafter / he hid his secret through dreary rain with knowledge fear, and in fear her ran / not looking behind, not having a plan but freedom was there, some small hope / until he was captured in far distant land his spirit was tortured, he fought his fate / body was broken, they dug for his hate but strong of will, he would not submit / and in dark night, he made his escape he fought battles alone, inside his mind / torture and screams followed close behind he held them off, demons at bay / and in a woman, was given hopeful sign the woman taught love, and how to care / he would give his soul, just to feel her stare but love is a two sided thing / and when she left, his soul was left bare onward he pushed his troubles just begun, / and found that truth is a two forked tounge for you can't fight your soul, be true to yourself / if speaking the truth just sets you to run and in defense of himself, defense of their foes / he found himself facing nose to nose misunderstanding and misplaced hate / they didn't stop to think, and rage followed woes he held his beliefs, was cured for a time / so who could have noticed the dangerous signs? he spoke and spoke harsh, and was harshly set down / and in a cell thought, with nothing but time she came to him then, with all her temptation / thinking to woo him in his lowly station but pain had taught one thing, how to survive! / he fought and stayed true, found his soul's emancipation do not think for a moment that hope can ever die / if you struggle in pain, look up to the sky to feel sunshine or rain, it's all the same / as Elorathal taught us, we all can survive_
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  Clan Pink: The Narfell saga
  • Guest

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  For a smelly pair of fools (20Nov05 9:44 AM Local) @92bf7ade03: The innkeep sneered at the hin as she asked for a room. Her green sickened complextion, slurred speach and overall weakened condition didnt help her haggling skills. Nor that fact that the hin smelt of serveral forms of chamber pot odurs, as well as other forms of decay. The Innkeep made a sudle nod to his bellhop bouncer when a kindly woman, offered to help. The woman, a Selunite Priestess, took pity on the hin bedragged him, soon aranging her to get a room finally. The hin never got her name and after stripping her soiled clothing and crawling into the magically filling bath, soon all thoughts where behind her. It would take a day, a full day of bed rest for the hin to recover before she even dared consider continueing her search for the mercenary's jewerly. her partner for the task, a human who called himself "Ryu Batta" took leave soon after they earned some reward for the ring. 'Me wonder, if that right ring?', mumbled the hin, the warm water calming and healing the battered hin. No, the rats were not as big as houses as feared, but the traps smelt just as bad….
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  Calindor's Journal
  • ExiledMage

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  Enzo Ifferial's Musings and Mutterings
  • Daeftan

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  A letter written in the hand of Enzo Ifferial… To the Tharchion of Surthay, Most honorable and gracious, Most insightful and commanding, I humbly write to you to relate information of my journey to the North. I hope you may find my correspondance useful in your wise rule of the Tharch of Surthay. Narfell is a strange place. I have lived here for a year now and have yet to fully comprehend the many people and customs of this land. There is little in the way of social order here. The indiginous peoples, the Nars barbarians, know virtually nothing of their glorious and ancient heritage. They speak mainly of the glory of their forefathers and their tribes but do not recall the great cities and empires that once stretched this land. Half-orc, half-men walk freely about and are treated as equals. At risk of discrediting myself, I even offer than one has obtained the rank of 'General', where he in principle is thought to be an intelligent commander. There are elves about. The elven people wander here and there, living largely pointless long lives consumed with thoughts of trees and birds. They occasionally stop to blather about this and that evil and injustice before wandering off to some wooded hideaway. There are several military organizations… the Legion, the Cerulean Knights and the Defenders of Peltarch... but none are well organized or particularly influential. A whole host of peoples from other lands resides here. Most have come from places of greater hardship, looking for sustenance or peace. There are some mutterings and discord, but by and large the population is sedate and unambitious. Peltarch is less of a city than it is a walled outpost. No military of significance resides there. There are an unusual number of paladins and clerics of the Triad, perhaps more than any city in the East ten times its size. They conduct themselves like common religious fanatics, struting and boasting about town with armchair bravado and self-righteous indignation. There is a Magistrate who handles matters of law, yet he is mainly content to absently pontificate with the clerics and paldins. The government is an ineffective gaggle of some half competent local folk who call themselves Senators. At times, I have seen them stumbling drunk through town or being cheated in card games at the local Inns. Though I have petitioned several times for audience by this government, I have not received any reply. It is possible they have not even held a formal meeting of this body in the year I have resided here. Of mild interest is the town of Jiyyd, for it sits on the Long Road that connects the northern parts of Rashemen to the country of Damara in the West. I have had several occasions to observe the Rashemi trade caravans moving along this road. It seems clear that this represents a primary route where the Witches trade their grain for the iron and weapons in Heliogabalus. I have spoken with at least two parties here who own ships and trade wagons and have taken part and profit from this trade route of our enemy. The Legion, of which I mentioned above, calls Jiyyd its home. They have done some to stabilize and protect the land along the Long Road and thus have increased its viability as a trade conduit. Their reach could potentially secure the road from as far east as N'Jast and as far west as the western slopes of the Giantspires. If this were the case, the Long Road would become a clear and fruitful alternative to the Golden Way. In a previous letter, I mentioned the discovery of a lost underground city named Oscura. Since then, I have spent some time there. It is a vast and largely unexplored region with an underground port facility. I have inquired several times as to where the reaches of the underground river might extend, but have been unable to ascertain any meaningful information. The ruins have been habitated by various peoples in the land looking to stay away from the sunlight, or the scrutiny of others. There is a strong Banite presence there, made more so by the Lord Treasurer of that town who is a well-known and widely hated Banite priest. He is a man of Zhentil descent and has very liberal views of trade and commerce. There is an effort underway to establish Oscura as a center or conduit for the trade of slaves from as far away as the Moonsea. Oscura is geographically well positioned just north of the Long Road and will likely prosper from trade that is too sensitive for the likes of Jiyyd. In summary, I have learned much on my year long journey, but still have much more to find. I shall stay here for some time longer, at least until the pass of winter this year. Should their be any reason for your Graciousness to contact me, I can be reached by post in the city of Peltarch at the Mermaid Inn. Most humbly your citizen and servant, Enzo Ifferial, Born of pure Mulan blood in the city of Eltabbar, Citizen of the Tharch of Surthay.
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  Callain's Journal
  • Coaan

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  1456: The Year of the Mithral Hammer 16th Eleint _Life here at the camp is quiet enough and fairly busy with day to day working to survive and whatnot. I keep forgetting to update this of all the large and unwieldy beasts that kill me…as ..well..I'd run out of parchment pretty damned quickly. The days have not been particularly kind, but life is bearable. I've met a few more people to boot. A priest of Corellon called Raryldor and a nobleman from home called Gailyn Daedus who sided with King and country. I could learn to like him even if he's worse than me for getting in trouble...or specifically getting yours truely killed though he seems a good enough sort. A few days later and a few more adventures, into the deeper parts of the gypsie wood cove went mostly without a hitch until we, Gailyn and myself were attacked and forced to flee..Gailyn made for the camp, I stumbled into a small crevace in the side of the outcropping. what happened there...I do not know..the last recalled memory was being bitten and then...a blank sky with no stars..not even a setting moon. Two elves apparantly dragged me free and patched me up enough to regain consiousness, then we promptly left...some candlemarks later...I discovered a gem still stuck to my arse due to webbing. Tymora was laughing, I'm sure of it._
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  Desecrator
  • Wykith

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  Minion of the Ninth. "Dead I am the dog, hound of hell you cry Devil on your back, I can never die" -RZ- Syne struggled as the flames began to consume him, the pain so pure, so fierce, so unrelenting. In an instant, his mind he saw every victim that had ever fallen under his knife. They waited for him, on the other side. The 21 Sacraments. The hardest of the rituals he had completed. One after another after another. Man, woman, and child alike, falling to his single-minded devotion to his lord Asmodeus. Night after night, carefully choosing his victims, falling upon them like a shadow. A raven in the night, with one milky white eye, heralding his approach. Such was his life, until after he killed his fifteenth victim. The last six, would be a trial by fire. The Penance. Six souls in six nights. Syne's existence hung in the balance. The final victims of the 21 Sacraments were to be completed in record time, or the sorcerer would be doomed. Already, Epitaph, his trusted familiar, had been consumed in payment. Six with six. Syne had succeeded the trial, ending with a test of fire. His flesh had been seared, his bones blackened. Never had he known such agony, but it would not be the last time. The Hound of Hell After completing the 21 Sacraments, Syne was granted the power of the Desecrator. The hunger that had been a part of him since early youth, the hunger for human flesh which had kept him alive in an unforgiving city of merciless winters, took physical form. In those dark years, an enormous black wolf with pale green, pupiless, eyes roamed the lands of Narfell, rending flesh with claw and fang alike. Rage, hunger, hatred, he prowled the night, moonlight glistening off bloodstained jaws. The Rise of the Nine The final ritual Syne would complete as a mortal. Nine ritualistic suicides, and the offering of an innocent soul. The ritual was a complex one, requiring utter privacy, time, and careful manipulation. In the end, the deal Syne had made with…her...had gone as planned. The trial, had gone as expected, and now here he was, for the second time, suffering the trial of fire. He felt his flesh as it melted off his body, blinded by the flames and the pain he howled his misery, and his body responded. From the depths of him came the Desecrator. Rage, fury, he pulled at the chains that held him. They groaned in protest but did not give. He felt hell's fury wash over him, he felt his mortal form go limp as it died, and for a moment, there was nothingness. Then Syne's eyes opened.
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  Cold and His Shadow (Mr. Green and Mr. Blue)
  • losl

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  Malachai's Search
  • Gobbletom

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  Malachai was seen in Jiyyd, and he was looking to speak with Tala, leader of the Roms. None of the Gali around recognized this man, yet he did have his Gypsy's oath with it. Whether forged or true, they knew not… but only time would tell. He wished to see the Gypsy Camp, knowing full well of that destruction that had been caused there. Sy'wyn, Syrano, Vine, and Malachai set off to the Old Camp, ready for the challenges that laid before them. They travelled toward the middle of the camp, not one Gnoll in sight... then all at once, there they were, band of gnolls, and a Shaman with itchy fingers. Being blown to bits by a lighting bolt wasn't their agenda today. The Gnolls were swiftly taken care of, and they decided it best to move on. Malachai has seen the destruction of the camp, but he would not be escorted into the gates just yet. On the trek back, what sounded like cracking of bones echoed through the trees... and when the group looked back... A spider remained, along with it's chittery sounds... dragging a Gnoll up a tree. The spider began to feed on the carcass for a few moments. After she had her way the Gnoll, she dropped the carcass to the ground with a bone crunching 'Thud'. The Spider slowly descended the tree, and when it reached the bottom, it burrowed quietly in a small den, humming out a chittery snarl as it reached the bottom. A moment later the sounds of crunching bone and snapping limbs could again be heard, and the spider began to wrestle itself out of the den. What could be seen was a Spider's limbs crackling and shrinking as the torso and abdomen took a more humanoid form. The color of human skin began to appear, as proportioned limbs formed. They were awestruck at this sight. Was this possible? Was it a spider turning into a man? Or.... the other way around? As the rest of them decided it best to leave... Malachai did not, turning back toward the camp. While parting ways, the sounds of bone crunching and crackling could again be heard.....
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  A cute, fun-loving mage and her magic brush!
  • sunshine23

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  ((well, i was just told that the pics aren't showing up so i'll post the link to my Devart page where they are at and see how that works. http://www.deviantart.com/view/24415978/ <–luna http://www.deviantart.com/view/24416338/ <---keira enjoy! ))
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  Gears's Guide To Narfell
  • HalflingRogue

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  Cike's Log
  • Kell_Durand

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  the child like handwriting shows some improvement but not much I haf to tel her soon. But I am afrad to. I do not even kno wat is hapining any moor. It is all my falt. I want it to be the Lich but I fear it is me. And if it is me, than that pain is far greter than if it was the Lich. I can plac no blam on any one but I. The gult eats at my heart and I pray for relese. Agan I shame I. Never will I leve her? What is wrong with I? Who am I? Am I just a Madman? more is writen then crossed out and fustrated stabbing can be seen flecks of ink spatter about the page before this section ends with a simple repeated line: I am sorry Sil.
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  Arielle - Soldier of Helm: The Beginning
  • tazlin

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  William Morride looked at his daughter with pride, speaking to her with a hint of slight parental worry in his voice. "Arielle me prouda ye lass." Her father looked confident, yet somewhat concerned as he knew Arielle had come to a decision to move on from home and entertain the ways of adventure, rather than stay behind tending his needs as a widower of almost now twenty years. He was glad for her, as he'd felt she needed to find a better life than what she had, and always wanted the best for his daughter since the very day of her birth. He placed a kiss upon her forehead "Ye gunna do great, now get ye tings ready, the Caravans' almosts 'ere." "Ye sures ye dunna needs me te stays Da?" she also had a concerned look. He piped in, "Nopes, Corp'ral Cortizun canna run ye groups details, un 'andles anytin' ye wuz doins sos ye canna goes wit'out worries." Arielle, giving him a smart look then winking "Nay Da, ye knows wot me meanins. Sumuns gotta keeps de 'ouse un takes cares o' ye." He just smiled. "Ye runna long Arielles. un dunna fergets ye Da, eh? Makes sures ye sends word onna 'ows ye doin' wens ye gets dere. Me gots Miss Owaads te takes onna dem chores, un ye knows she un goods 'ousekeepa un fines lass." He hugged her pecking her cheek again."Ye makes sumun a fines wifes sumday Arielles." Arielle began packing a few sentimental items in her pack, things that others she'd loved had given her over the years. She had never really pondered the concept of marriage, but she assumed her father was right that she would make someone a good wife, someday. She stood and smiled as her father turned, walking away towards his office near the main gate of Weltsneck. Arielle swallowed, then confidently took a deep breath, and headed out the gate to the wagons approaching on the south road.
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  The Crossroads...
  • Tanin_Valdar

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  He turned the last page of the vellum, trying hard to focus on the words to distract himself from the fact he had sold one of the blades today. It was a step that had a feeling of finality to it. One blade remained, but he knew in his heart that the matched pair would never be his together again. The book was interesting in and of itself, a treatise on protective magic that he knew he had to understand. There was another piece of reading to be done, regarding use of fire, but that would wait. His muscles had a dull ache from working the longsword in practice, but it was a familiar ache now. His movements had become more deft, the rhythm of fighting with a longer, heavier blade coming back to him with time. He could even maneuvere it together with the shield reasonably well now. There was a difference in style, that much was certain. Whereas before he had used his matched blades, trusting in the frequency of attack and his dexterity to carry him through, now he was training again in the ways he had learned as a child, before the wild had begun its call to him. The page faded away before his eyes as he momentarily recalled the few days past when he had met that dwarf, Maythor. Tanin had been standing in Jiyyd, practicing with the blade when the dwarf had approached him. The next thing Tanin knew, he was in a cave off the central plains battling orcs. He had gone back and forth between the longsword and his usual short blades that day, but at least he had been able to show the longsword some use. The longsword he had right now wasn't a particularly good weapon, but it had been cheap and solid enough to practice with at least. He blinked hard, realising that his concentration had gone entirely. Tanin muttered a curse at himself in elven. He had much work to do, much to learn. And he could afford to waste no time.
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  Of the Warrior-Poet.
  • Archon_Prime

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  Pain. The blade entering the chest, and almost coming out the backside. Trough the plate of the armor, trough his ribcage and into his inside. Pain was what he felt. The pain of defeat. It had been a good battle. A simple scouting of the southern rawlinswood, until he came face to face with a bugbear. Thomas had his training. He had his armor. His shield. But the bugbear had brute strength. It was a match. The battle went on for what seemed like hours, both sides wounded, bleeding and exhausted. The fatigue slowed him. And that's when things went wrong. He could no longer keep up to the beast's savage slashes. And so he fell. And he died. A good death to die. The crystals could restore him. But the words of Keira and Sy'wyn were in his mind in those final moments. His death had no meaning, as he would always be returned. And so he left. Disconnected his soul from the Collective, to float into the afterlife. To await his love. The End of Thomas Haley