Tales By The Fire

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  Vexing Visions
  • Fadia

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  It was four years ago almost to the day that they found me. Derwyn, the mage. Boggs, the warrior. Myriah, the minstrel. Riordan, the priest. Poe, the thief. Myriah wouldn't survive the encounter. I probably should have died today. Several times over, if we're being honest. Our "lions" - me, Biam, and Amanda - went into the crypts with an angry dwarf and some gnome I'd not met before. Almost from the start, things went awry. I took a wound. An infection came with it, some magical thing spread by the ghouls down there. I felt my body weakening with each step. That queasiness burned in my gut like I was about to shit out two tendays' worth of dwarven food all at once. I was slipping. Not physically, but metaphorically. Whatever was eating away at me, I'm sure would've finished the job eventually. And there they were - Vick, and Meadow. They got me back up on my feet, at least, even if the others didn't seem to have any interest in whatever help they were offering. I'll owe them for this one, I can tell you that right now, journal. But then, just as quick as they'd shown up, they were gone. And we'd once again gotten in over our heads. The gnome and I wound up on the ground, bleeding out. Only some very timely healing kept me from wasting the life those two had just given back to me. But the damnedest thing is, I had another dream. While I was on the ground there. I know that I was only down for moments. The fight was still going on when I got back up. But it felt like I'd been down for hours. I know I didn't talk much after I went down. Truth be told, I've been kind of lost in thought since it happened. I was on a table. A burning pain on my arm. A light tap-tap-tapping wouldn't stop, and the smell of brimstone was all around me. I couldn't move. Couldn't even turn my head. But I was aware. And I was being spoken to. Told that I was being prepared. Prepared for what? I can't say. The room I was in was dark, and what little I could make out from darting my eyes this way and that gave me little clue as to what was happening. And then, they lifted me up. Carried me. I wanted to try and fight them off, and escape, but my limbs just wouldn't accept what my mind told them to do. I was a captive within my own body. Just as I was being taken to my cell, just as the door to it opened up, I was healed. Not in the dream, but in truth. And with no time to reflect on what I'd seen, I simply rejoined the fight. Now that I have time to sit and reflect on these things, I'm left to wonder at what I missed. I'm not sad to have lived, of course, but if I could have just stayed in that scene a few moments longer, enough to maybe get a look at who I was with, I feel like I might feel more satisfied with it in some way. Perhaps another time.
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  A less than impressive entrance
  • Kronan

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  Sir Jonald, a living legend
  • Gonnar

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  ~ A Worthy Death ~ "It is only because of Sir Jonald's brave heart and divine soul that I sit here before you to tell you this story. We were in the foothills west of peltarch, and we were fighting the usual orcs and worgs when it came to our comprehension that so many orcs had to be coming from somewhere, furthermore, be led by someone! So we decided to put an end to these orcs business by trying to find their lair and slay them all. We pushed through the frozen forest, dealing with the winter wolves and orcs. It was hard, the cold was chilling to the bones, but Sir Jonald and I pressed on without falter. We cleared the freezing woods, and we spotted a cave entrance from which we could hear a lot of Orc babblering. It was our duty to head in and end with their misserable and rotten existence. We encountered heavy opposition, from spellcasters, orcs with large swords, and arbalesters, but we still pushed through with the help of my singing and Sir jonald's legendary combat skills. After defeating dozens and dozens of the orcs, from the main floor and the upper floor, Sir Jonald detected some incredibly tainted evil from below... we thought that must've been the leader, and it was our chance to deal with it once and for all! We headed down the crowded cave. We fought even more orcs, from all sizes and power... but nothing , nothing compared to the Orc that was leading them. It was a towering, hulking, ugly, stink-faced Orc weilding two axes. Grishnak the Elfslayer himself, you might've heard of him before...a very vicious and remarkably bloody-lust orc. I knew Sir Jonald wouldn't doubt a single second, so I tossed my shield aside to be able to cast without failure. A Haste spell on him, to be able to keep up with the orc, who wasn't alone. Was accompained by one of their elite warriors. I tried to get my shield back, but they pushed us back and I had no time for it. The fight was tough, we managed to strike the orc several times, but it wouldn't flicker. It was bleeding but unyielding, not even stopping is relentless strikes on Sir Jonald. I was flanking, hoping that he wouldn't turn on me. It was already severly wounded, and I thought that'd make him go softer on his axe strikes, but I couldn't have been any more wrong... He viciously struck Sir Jonald, pushing his head against the wall, making him fall down and lose consciousness. My eyes opened wide, I wanted to scream, but the orc , thinking Sir Jonald dead, turned on me and cut me in half with a single strike. I died, I was there , cold on the ground.. while Sir Jonald innerly fought for his life. You won't believe me, but the last thing I could feel before leaving this world... was Sir Jonald's lament for not being able to help me at that moment, his pain at seeing me die. Even when he was fighting for his own life, he worried about me. Isn't that touching? I think it was because of that that he mustered enough strength to recover from the wounds. He didn't even think of running for his life! he instead took a chance to drink some healing, and immediatly charged towards Grishnak and it's minion. I cannot say how glorious and epic that fight must've been, because I was not present. Well.. I was, but cold dead. But sir Jonald, as I've said many times, is a man of honour, a man full of bravery, and even more... a man friend of friends. He defeated the foul orcs for my sake, for what they had done to me. And he carried my dead corpse all through the woods back to the city. And if you think this would be all of it, you'd be wrong... for he, in all his good will , after he raised me from the dead with the help of priest Galin of the Triad, ... gave me half of his gold so we would be equally poor, or how I see it.. equally rich".
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  Letters Home
  • Fadia

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  Observational Art as Performed by Mashal Marshallomin
  • LustJaw

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  Silver Wings As silver wings thundered above mortals high, A lonely mentor trained a would be name. With expectations of a hero it would imply, We are only left with ourselves to blame. How much is it to ask for one more to care, Of the plights and wellbeing of the common good. When at the end of the story remains only despair, Indifference of choices never close to understood. Needless sacrifice at the cost of genuine souls, Another name on a long list for only one to remember. Why then do we look to adventurers and their goals, Their intent only as far as the next being to dismember. Rest now noble heroes your duty is now fulfilled, Sahno and Dormanak, you gave what was never asked. Curse this weak body and these hands unskilled, Unable to defy your chosen fate and all tragedies past.
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  Nathelin's Journal continue
  • Tomian

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  It’s been long time since I contemplate. The helmet served me better than I told Pious. I didn’t have heart to tell him the truth. (This is next part of story. It’s pretty long. End of story is located with another brackets like this one.) I went back to Damara for a moment after I got helm. When I got letter from them saying that they will break out the captives. There was a long power struggle between the Resistance and the Flames of Vengeance. In shadows the resistance gain financial and people support from nobles and lordships to even a little. Overall the resistance went far with constant caravan raids. It was clever idea but they went down the well too many times and they got tricked by bounty hunter groups and shady bandits. Those that escaped made it to the sanctuary and those caught by time go by they were sent into Flame of vengeance citadel. I had been waiting long time to help but even with willpower and courage lost, could not let those ones get tortured anymore. When headed closer towards sanctuary a flash of blade threatened my neck. I recognise two of them One that drew dagger was Teris’s personal scout and the other illusion underdark mage Glardiss. I was quick to reveal name and allowed them to remove my helm.. His spell determined my magic and he impressed and told me to hurry that time was near. The hideout was underneath ruins. We took several passages to get to underground caverns onto it connect into large hole with many rooms. Meeting room was in middle of the hideout with a big circle of tables and chairs. Papers of plans of the citadel and map of the lands details of the three village. The citadel was if I remember.. think north-east of the Ironspur, between The Galena snake and Icelace rivers. The villages caught my eye. One on left side that looked more like gathering of farms marked with a rat, the other that look more like outpost marked with a lightning bolt and the other with a shard of ice. I did not know what it meant but it didn’t sound good and when I asked they told me not to worry about it and that they will sneak in the citadel at the eve of night. I had a sense of forebode but I was already there to help. It did not help when I asked where the Paladin’s mercenary groups were and they reply that they do not need them to rescue the captives. It took a long trip and we went around the Trail’s end to sneak through ravines and mountains to get from behind the citadel. It was strange there was little flame of vengeance patrols or bounty hunters on the path. The six of us, The assassin Roderick brothers of Praka, The underdark gnome and a quiet no-nonsense female half elf scout from the Rawlinswood, myself and Teris our leader climbed up first and broke into lower citadel with a grapple hook and rope and we all climbed after and those that weren’t good climbers the illusionist bolsters us with magic. Something was not right. We were at dormitory level and most guards should have been aware and maybe awoke at presence. We were silent but they looked ill on their beds.. Vomit and excrement filled the floor some even looked like death’s door would have been..ughhh merciful. They were not merciful any chance they got they slit their pale death throats some calling for mercy and finding none. I just closed my eyes…..They took the dead’s clothing and dressed as the enemy walking past them all. They said that I did not need to dress up since I was in black leather with a helm. The had information that that once in a while rogues and assassin’s would come by to help test their awareness in strange game of hide and tag. I just closed eyes as they murder them all unaware that they die by one dressed as their own. All I could tell myself was this was wrong but only valid excuse was the the flame of vengeance were murderers of innocence.Finally the cells was behind the Citadel, it was easy to kill the jailor and the guards. After we freed the captives and make escape from behind the citadel they waited for us. The captain of the citadel a very mad powerful looking mage of Kossuth, looking of seared heat with his fire robes. A handful of guards stood next to him a few look same as sick ones but at least they could stand. Cassius the Captain of the hold begrudge remarked Teris’s clever plan. I couldn’t believe that I was too dim..Actually I can believe that I was too dim to realise what the plan they executed to infiltrate without issue. They had plan in advance to weaken the three villages nearby as distraction. She persuade a champion of Talos and a few of his giants allies that included a storm giant create storms and to strike the outpost to the south. Her other allies, Talona worshippers that took aspiration and inspired to be Plague Rats poisoned the farm villages to the south west of the Citadel. The dames of the western villages were taken by servants of the Frost maiden from the Great Glacier by orders of the new Ice-queen. They encase the whole village in frost. Most of the forces that was usually stationed in the citadel scattered to each of the village to put out the dangers. It shocked me that she was not only a planning genius but she had so much connections and resources to use. It came to a clash and I was nearly out of mind getting grips that we became the monsters that we fought against…Teris told me that the ends justified the means. She also told me not to feel bad for the villages. The Zhents ran the outpost the other villages supplied slaves and bodies for their Banite necromancer allies. I tell myself how did this all come into bad fruit. That wasn’t the worst part of all.. The underlings never had a chance. They were all demoralised and few sickly. They fell fast under strokes like all hope was taken away. Teris spent time torturing him with thrusts to his guts and spleen. The captain spat an insult, that we were no better than brigands and thugs. He was right. I should have said no when I got the chance. Could I had said no.. Chain breaker was right to call me coward before. Teris choked him and screamed into his ear that at least we were not what that word? Hypo-something Demon worshippers. She choked the blood out of his mouth. There was so much revelations to bear. Through much searching Teris placed the captain’s left on a strange looking hook hand sigil on the wall of his room. It took the illusionist spells to uncover the magic sign. The wall creak open and we shrine of deprave acts. Mutilate corpses, skeleton and profane half stich undead that was once Flame of vengeance warriors and people from nearby villages. A tainted book that name demon king sat on an Altar that look like a hideous monster with leather strange wings and very sharp teeth. I still don’t remember name except begin with Fraz. We did what Verika would do in this instance.. Burn down the whole place down. Who knows they both would get along.. After they pat each other on back and thanked me for help, I told them that I don’t think I will come back to help this was too much of ordeal and need more reflection. They told me that I will always have friend in them but I just left for Narfell and promised myself not to look back. (End of story) So this is where I’m at now. I reflect on things to come and have to deal with my emotions. I feel sick inside for all that happened, but I centre myself, got to move on with reflection and become better so I don’t ruin lives anymore. The Monks will make me whole again and I can reflect and learn to be better and one with all. I still think about what needs to be done. I will see Sahno soon.
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  Hold the Line
  • UnholyCalls

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  Meditations of Ormsyn Ryggraden - Cavern Druid of The Great Worm of Uthgar
  • Darkpowder

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  2 - The search. As within, as without, for the circle, the grove. Ormsysn sits again, contemplating the direction to something of interest.... But not this time to a natural resource as he often does to the nearest body of clean water or fixing his mind upon a stone such as Jaspar which could be broken down a fracture line to form a cutting tool. This time Ormsyn is seeking more than just a place or resources to survive, but a place to thrive. Calling to mind the image of the fungi that grow underground, placing many different types around him of the more unremarkable type. But he does not seek the great forests and caves of mushrooms that grow underground, but in correspondence he ooks within them to look for the nature of how they grow with the tiny creatures aiding their growth, and how the nutrients from the ground are used by the myriad of tiny plant spirits and invisible creatures contributing to the mushroom's health. Delving deep into the innards of the mushrooms structure in his minds eye, his focus goes to the sheltering caps, the explosive spore emissions of other types and the glowing aura of others. Asking important questions to bring forth back to conscious knowledge. Seeking out the underlying structures of the fungi, a formlessness, a commonality that marks them out as different from the plants that crave the sunlight, and yet makes all the fungi so different. Which dwell beside one another? Which are the curatives for the poisons of others? Can they be consumed to resist the poisons of other fungi? and Where to spirits of the plants grow so powerful as to communicate in more than just the language of feeding and surviving. Not consuming the mushrooms which can elicit rage or a trance upon many young practitioners of the path but again from within he is drawn down a path of activation despite his practical intentions as he feels himself merge with the formlessness of the thought, the thought behind the form. And upon this thought his mind is drawn again to greater knowledge, now seeking to where large concentrations could be found, be they places of light within the deep darkness or the forests of almost unimaginable size. He then looks for the trail, the thread all the way back to where he is, what animals have traversed close to these places, which live and hide among them and which even use them for sustenance or other craft. Then reeling that thread in, he winds it back to his physicality in conscious thought and brings back with that thought the insight of stillness, to act as if fully possesed by vision in the darkest places or even blind as well as what he may be able to follow to lead him to yet another place of meditation.
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  The Notebooks of M---
  • its_a_fire

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  The songs of Vera C. Tingle
  • MCPlay

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  King George's Eulogy You started at the Bottleneck Such humble beginnings, You ruled cleanly, not even a speck King George the First, Man of Good Feelings Charming and gracious, an example to all Benevolent and generous, always on call! He cared for the poor and downtrodden, Made sure their lives would never be rotten! King George the First, descendant of the Hero May he rest now with his goddess, Siamorphe, who watches, his worries are zero! We will always remember Our great king with fondness May he watch over Thalamran And keep him from dangers!
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  Nathelin's Letter (// There are other character spoilers. Only stuff that Nath knows and thinks)
  • Tomian

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  Ah everything has been settled on her matter.//(Though now i understand what retconned actually means. so pretend that all is resolved though it never happened) Went back to Mintas Rhelgar. Did not see Demonbinder again which is a relief. Guess he got bored of being king of a ruined kingdom. He must have been lonely poor crazy man, or perhaps he is the other who knows. It was good to travel with the others again. Scott is good leader. I'm glad to see his point of view when it comes to survival and leadership. Norwick is so peaceful at night time to rest finally a peaceful night. -Nathelin Disciple of Yellow Rose.
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  The Fallen Vanderburg - A Redemption Tale
  • SuspectDuke

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  The accounts of Jade M'he El'hruen: Adventure and romance...
  • ZweianderLord

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  - A kindness The young man squatted beside a crumbling tree trunk and gently placed his pack and bow in the scruffy weeds that encircled its gnarled, snow-covered roots. He suspected the tree had been split by lightning long ago, judging from the lack of bark and blackened, ragged gash that ran its height. It would have to do, he thought, looking about and spotting no other trees in the vicinity. The direction of the icy morning breeze was in his favor, though he cursed the grey sky under his frosty breath as snow began to fall. He shook the tingling from his gloved hands and retrieved a rusted spyglass from his worn pack and leaned against the tree, resting the end of the sight on the nub of a low, leafless branch and peered through the cracked lens. After a few moments of fidgeting with the focus with his numb fingers, he managed to spot his quarry: A young buck that was rooting through some snowy foliage several meters away. Upon the deer's antlers he counted at least eight points and noticed his coat seemed thick and healthy. Quietly and with a smile, he placed the spyglass back into his pack and raised his bow, knocking an arrow he quickly pulled from a quiver slung across his waist. He drew the bowstring and used the tree to steady his shivering elbow before calming his breathing. The buck had his head lowered and the man held his aim, waiting for the moment to strike. There was a sudden, soft "thwang" and the buck cried out while falling to a heap where it stood. For a moment the young man thought he had accidently loosed the arrow, but he quickly regained senses and ducked behind the tree as he released the tension on his bow and tossed it aside. He cursed softly, snatched up the spyglass again and peeked through the sight. Amidst crimson snow and trampled browned grasses, he spotted the narrow shaft and fletching of an arrow, following its length downward to the broadside of the prone deer. It was a deft kill shot, but he could not determine from which direction it had been loosed. He began to slowly scan the hill for signs of the mystery shooter. "Aye there." The young man froze for a moment before lowering the spyglass, fear evident in the shaking of his hand. Crouched next to him was a green cloaked, lithe woman with a raven, braided lock that poured from a deep, fur-lined cowl. The black tip of her hair brushed atop the soft snow at her booted feet. He hadn't heard a sound. "Did I take your kill?" Her voice was low and soft, but he detected no threat in her tone. He cleared his throat. "Uhm, no. Not at all. N-nice shot." She pulled back the cowl to reveal emerald, almond-shaped eyes and sharp elven features. A crooked smile played across her pretty face. "Aye. Where're you from?" He seemed surprised by the presence of an elf, but relaxed a bit more as she took a knee and stared directly into his eyes, awaiting response. He sat back on his boots and tucked the spyglass away as he averted her gaze. "West, through the mountains. My village is there." She looked him over a bit, noticing his rough leathers and padded light traveling armor. "Nars, eh?" He looked around and nodded. She flicked a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "What's your name?" "Eman." "I'm Jade. Been out a few days?" He nodded again. "You need this more than I. Come." She slapped his shoulder and strode to where the deer lay, retrieved a long thin blade from somewhere within the folds of her cloak and began to work the carcass. Eman blinked and stood slowly, retrieving his pack while watching her closely. He spotted a simple bow was strung across her shoulder alongside her quiver. A greatsword strapped to her back gave him pause, but he cautiously approached as she beckoned to him once again. Jade was making quick work of the buck with careful, skilled strokes as she field-butchered the animal. She grunted as she rolled the carcass and started work on the other side, taking care not to damage the hide. "I'll take this hind quarter; you take the rest." "Why?" Jade halted her work and looked up from the corner of her eye. The smirk returned. "It's been a rough winter. You've more mouths to feed." She returned to her butchering. Shaking his head in disbelief, Eman retrieved his hunting knife and helped her finish the job. They worked in silence, save for a request for help here and there. He watched her when he thought she wasn't looking, but she caught his gaze a few times for which she offered a smile. He wrapped the warm venison in a roll of hide and gathered other usable parts of the animal he could carry into his now-overstuffed pack. It was a good haul, which he silently admitted had been difficult to come by this winter. He watched intently as Jade gracefully washed the blood from her hands with a bit of water from her waterskin and dried them in the folds of her cloak. She caught his gaze again and she offered her waterskin. "Drink?" He patted his belt. "I've enough, thanks." "Nice to meet you, Eman. Good luck." She turned and headed down the trail with the single hind quarter of venison slung over her shoulder. "Jade--" He called out suddenly. She paused and turned. He spoke nothing, but nodded to her after a moment. She smirked and waved with her free hand and continued down the trail.
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  The Jasmine Files
  • Robyn

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  Home The Li estate sprawled with acres of field and woodland at the edge of Telflamm. Jasmine and her father Bakkar meandered lazily beside a small stream, occasionally stopping to gaze at the shoreline or throw a stone into the water. Bakkar was tall and heavy set, his dark skin reflected his Turami heritage. His advanced years had begun to tell their tale. His hair was salted with gray, and his posture somewhat stooped. Sedentary life had made him a bit thicker around the middle. Jasmine hadn’t been this relaxed in months. There was something about home which allowed her to let her guard down. Thoughts of knighthood, duty and adventure in the city of Peltarch seemed so far away. Bakkar smiled softly. “It was nice to spend these few weeks with you Jasmine. The letters are nice, but conversation is much better. You could always move back here”, he said, his voice tinged with a bit of sadness. “Mother prefers that I stay away. I know she cares, but she has you all to herself now. She and I …. “, Jasmine trailed off. It was true. Jasmine and her mother Wen were always oil and water. Wen never had the patience to deal with Jasmine when she was younger, and while Bakkar knew Wen loved her, “like” was never part of the relationship. The household was much more peaceful when they were separated. It always baffled him why even the most innocent of conversations always resulted in argument. With silence, he let the subject drop. They continued walking along the river’s edge until they came to a small footbridge. The road led back to the estate, and Bakkar knew that once they returned, it would mark the end of his daughter’s visit. “Jasmine, do you have anyone special back in Peltarch?”, Bakkar asked with some hesitation. Jasmine stopped on the footbridge and leaned on the railing. She turned and looked up at him, squinting in the sun that shone over his shoulder. “It’s complicated”, she said. Bakkar leaned on the railing with her, and searched her face for more answers. “In the letters you mentioned the older man, the inn owner” “Jonni”, she added. Bakkar looked puzzled, “I thought that … ended”. Jasmine sighed, “I did. Then it did not. I have heard the term ‘Friends with Benefits’. I think that applies” Bakkar furrowed his brow and searched his daughter’s face again. Even though her face was a mask, she had gradually let her guard down while staying at home. He could see she was troubled. He put his hand on her shoulder. “There’s no future in it”, she added tersely, and turned to walk off. But Bakkar kept his hand on her shoulder just briefly enough to stop her. She turned around and looked up at him. In her eyes, Bakkar could see the ever present turmoil behind them. The tears were there, but held back by courage and discipline. He took her in his arms and held her there for as long as she needed. That’s what good fathers did.
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  Burning Scrolls - The Writings of Diadne
  • Robyn

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  Diadne approached the tavern in Blackridge. She had foolishly sold her amulet that protected her from the cold and had to rely on elemental protection spells. Ibli rode in her hood, and she could feel him shiver through the several layers of cloth. “Please mistress, tell me we are not going to settle here! This is intolerable! I shall die stiff and cold, Kossuth forsaking me to the clutches of this awful land!” Diadne sighed, “Stop whining Ibli. It’s not that bad. The fires of our lord are most needed in places like this, it’s…” “It is that bad mistress!”, Ibli interrupted. “I … I can see my breath!” Diadne made it to the door. Soft music was playing inside. She brushed the snow from her shoulders, wiped her feet and stepped in. The warm scent of mulled cider wrapped around her as she entered. People milled about. Many of High Hold’s soldiers sat still in uniform laughed and carried on at various tables. Diadne pulled back her hood and Ibli scrambled deeper into the recesses of her cloak. “Well, well, well! If it isn’t Diadne the Deluded!”. The unmistakable shrill voice came from the knot of Red Wizards conversing near the center. Diadne’s shoulders slumped as she turned to face the small pinch faced woman who returned her gaze with a haughty smile. Her red robes were festooned with jewelry. Her hair was short and brown, barely covering her cheeks. Her name was Azhia. Azhia and Diadne seemed destined to run into each other in Thay. Their meetings never came to violence, but Azhia carried the Red Wizards prejudices against the naturally gifted like a badge of honor. Azhia had railed against her presence at numerous occasions, and Diadne was growing tired of it. Diadne turned and forced a smile. “I see you finally crawled out of your basement Azhia. Did you tire of playing with rats and dead bodies?” “Spoken like a jealous arcanist who still has to take caravans or rely on others to do real magic. How long did it take you to get here from Thay? Three weeks? A month? Perhaps you paid good coin to have someone teleport you?” At this point, a couple of High Hold soldiers started taking interest in the conversation, looking up from their meal. Diadne smiled at one past Azhia, and was rewarded with an admiring glance in return. It was then Diadne realized what she had to say. Diadne had spent several years in the Courtesans Guild in Surthay. Contrary to public opinion, a courtesan, a well trained one was a companion. It wasn’t just about the sex. The courtesan’s job was to make the client feel important. The center of attention. Diadne had learned to read people, sometimes altogether too well. She looked Azhia over, noticed the jewelry, the makeup, and the perfume. Azhia wasn’t only an accomplished wizard, she was vain. Her vanity was as apparent to Diadne as her red robes. Diadne walked up to her with a belittling smile, and made a point to violate her personal space. She leaned down just a hair, enough to let Azhia know she was taller and had greater presence. “It’s true Azhia, that sadly, I will never learn to teleport. But no matter how many spells you learn, and how accomplished you get, you will always be ugly. And if you succeed in whatever, strange ritual you are conducting in that dark basement of yours to ward of the impending march of time, you’ll be uglier still.” Diadne then patted her condescendingly on the cheek and turned to walk away. The High Hold soldier who had admired Diadne spit his ale in laughter at the cattiness and base nature of Diadne’s words. His friend shook his head and chuckled. There were murmurs of laughter at the nearby tables. Azhia’s complexion darkened. Diadne could practically feel the heat rise in Azhia’s face from behind her. Azhia turned to face the soldiers that were laughing. Some of stopped in fear, but several continued. Azhia turned to Diadne who was walking away and sputtered angrily, “Go ahead! Walk away! Just know bitch that you will never, never know true power!” Diadne stopped and cocked her head and thought for a moment before turning back to face her. Azhia’s mouth was pursed. Her face pinched even more so in anger. Diadne walked back to her, using her height to intimidate, and looked down. “No dear Azhia, it is you who will never know true power. Last year, three monks from the Sword Coast traveled all the way to Eltabbar by ship and caravan just for a lock of my hair. A dwarf by the name of Ash traveled all the way from Thay to Peltarch just to be in my presence. A priest paid a king’s ransom to the temple of Kossuth just to have an afternoon conversation with me. And…”, Diadne said leaning down and looking her in the eye, “…a man immolated himself, just because I asked him to.” Diadne stood up again, making sure to look down at her. “That dear Azhia, is true power. Please … Continue to play in your basement with dead bodies and scrolls. Let the grown ups upstairs run the world” Diadne could feel the weave twist under Azhia’s will. For a moment, Diadne thought things were going to get messy. But a large hand from one of the other Red Wizards rested gently on Azhia’s shoulder. Azhia looked up and the man just shook his head. The bearded face turned, and Diadne looked up into friendly eyes. Not all Red Wizards were against her. Some respected Kossuth’s might.
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  The Mor'Salen
  • Karnivor

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  ((Someone asked around in game about information about the Nexus war, the other day - so I thought I'd bump this thread for those interested. It contains the collected posts from the Defender and the Order of the Divine Shield's forums about the plot, though nothing that describes the many dramatic fights taking place in Peltarch itself during the siege. Apologies in advance for the length of the entries, it was somewhat easier to read on the old forums! I view this mostly as an ooc gathering of otherwise scattered posts, but one might also imagine it as an unpublished folder of copies in my character Nica's possession.))
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  The Ethically Questionable Talents of a Purple Hooded Bard
  • UnholyCalls

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  Gather round for the tale of Jonni the Brave Fought by himself, put undead in the grave. Sought out mithral and platinum ore. Now his legend begins to soar. Jonni the Mithral Miner He's handsome and strong and sweet Jonni the Mithral Miner Beat them all, by himself, ain't that neat
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  A Letter Home
  • Delinquency

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  No one has replied

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  Adalum The Wanderer
  • Tomian

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  Written in crude Ulutiun. I watched over them for the night as they slept after Pimataung told his tale. They always keep one eye open. They must think i will rob them, or worse slit their throat as they sleep. Though as tempting as it might be to do such a thing i need them. They never witnessed the cruel harshness of the frost and the power of the Frost-maiden. Our neighboring Iulutiun village Isalrk buried under huge avalanche of ice crystals. It called itself a chosen. (Then rumors true, had the last Ice-Queen perished?) It looked human like us but haunting beautiful, unforgiving eyes and wrapped in snow white fur. She commanded authority, although she did not need. Not with a group of frost giants and a White Dragon steed big as hill. Pimataung tried to save village but his pleas fell on deaf ears. She wanted one of few Anagakok left in Pelvuria and there is no doubt in my mind that she will find Anagakok. He was one with ice as she kissed with frost-death and wailed a song of charm to all guardians while the rest escaped. I did not stay to watch them get pounded to mush by the giant's tree clubs. I'm thankful that i always brang Jakarek with me to slide down hill where perched like snow owl. I need to find it when i get back. I pray that we do not meet any of Frost-maiden servants for i would not know what I would do. I just hope Angulutiun family clan survives while I'm stuck here. // There are three Ulutian tribes in the Great Glacier from most common to least- Lulutiun, Angulutiun and Nakulutiun Anagakok- A frost-mage revered in all tribes but there are only very few in the Great Glacier. Lulutiuns have most Anagakok. Jakarek- Basically a one person sled reigned by a caribou. The main enemy I chose for the story was A Frostwind Virago found in Monster Manual V 3.5e. Also made up village name. From time to time before Wyvern's quest i might write up more stories based on her village life for fun and do that with the other characters too.
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  Kaern of the Shebali (Arkaiuns)
  • Tomian

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  Lizards-men taste like expected fishy lizards. Their swamp reminds me of the Rethild, boiling and sticky glue. Don't get me started on the insects and leeches. Damn Lizard King of Rethild, we had a deal, but you perferred the Crinti's gold! We will never forgive betrayal. We were lucky to escape the ambush. Lost a lot of warriors that day and also a good friend. Even at this moment we still at war with them. That is why peace never works. Trust is so hard to accept, when you have history of betrayal behind you.