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Foe Calibur Page Posts: 24 (12/25/01 6:13:36 pm) Reply Re: In true Peredhil fashion... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Though words may mean little when the actions taken are so much more dire, I shall state them anyways. I know life may be the worst oppressor of its own free will, but it is also the bringer of the free will you have. Like Peredhil, I have not been in your situation, so I will never truly understand, but I have had friends in situations much the same. One thing I told them was that you always have to take the good with the bad, or the bad with the good, as it may be, and that there's always tomorrow. To look at the entire picture. Don't get clouded by the strom, no matter how massive, somewhere on the world it will be sunny. And finnally, and most importantly, in my eyes, there is far too much to live for and far too little to die for. I don't expect things will change instantly, infact I know not whether they will at all, but if you ever need a friend you have found one in me

peredhil31 Elder of Lists and Manners Posts: 742 (12/25/01 11:32:56 am) Reply ezSupporter Re: In true Peredhil fashion... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Peredhil holds Balladore, knowing he can't truly understand because he hasn't been there, but wanting to let B' know he cares anyway. There aren't words, and I'm supposed to be a word-smith. On another note, I'll repeat what my sister told me when here husband had a heart-attack and died (without any warnings) this spring. I asked her if she was angry that God had taken him. She looked at me as if I were a loon and replied that it quite clearly stated the Devil was the one who killed, not God. She reserved her anger for the appropriate target. Knowing her, I would not like to be the vent for her determination. But that's her, not you, and I'm rambling because I wish I could help you somehow, and find myself helpless to do so. If you want a home-cooked meal - we live in the same geographical area... Elrond Peredhil, 31 (Law D. Wilson)

Balladore Page Posts: 15 (12/24/01 10:04:16 pm) Reply In true Balladoriac fashion... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I shall create another project before having finished the other two. This is not to continue... just a "venting" so to speak. So, if you have problems with emotions flaring, and reference to drastic actions, hit the little "back" button on your web toolbar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Have you ever died? I have, twice. The first was just that, literally, I died. As a child, I loved the water... I was enchanted by it, and yet I had never swam. One day, I dove into the lake... not literally, I couldn't dive, but I jumped in. I couldn't swim, and by the time My parents found me, the water had filled my lungs. Luckily, there was a hospital nearby, and they rushed me to emergency. By the time I got there, I had been dead a few seconds... they revived me. I died, and lived. I would rather experience that then what I have recently. Yes, I seem alright. But I act. "All the World's a stage"... how true that is. I pretend to be alright... but I'm not. Inside me there is this amazing void... like I have a huge hole ripped out of me where my heart was, and it will never be filled again. Ever. I will be forever alone, until the end of my days... and that's something to think about. Why did this happen to me? Anyone? I want to know why, and I want to know now. If there is a compassionate, loving god out there, why on earth would he rip them away from me? It makes me think of a song that's on the country radio (shut up, country haters): Sometimes I wake up crying at night And sometimes, I scream out your name. What right does he have to take your heart away When for so long, you were mine... It's a bit altered, but who gives a care? I don't know what I think... The only way I get by is by taking each day as that one day to survive... all I have to do is get through today, and it's over... And then I do it again tomorrow. I can't kill myself... I've tried. I can't do it. I don't know what I want from you people... assuming you've read this, of course. I don't want you all to think that I don't appreciate your help... you've been amazing, and I want you all to know that I couldn't have done this without you... especially someone who knows who she is... I do care for you, and you're helping me more than you'll ever know... So, there's my venting/whining/whatever.

Rahsash Geldich Initiate Posts: 7 (1/13/02 5:56:55 pm) Reply Games -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Master of the Games stood on a raised platform among the slaves. A seperation of rank that he needed no platform to distinguish. War. He loved war. It brought him slaves, slaves brought profit, and profit meant he could continue toeing the line safely. His eyes swept over the slaves, making them shudder and avert their own eyes in fear. To them, he was the very embodiment of Kahng, the god of Death and Chaos. He had flat, black eyes, eyes that tended to see through, into, and all over you without a spark of life. The eyes of a dead man. But the Master had faced death many times, laughed at it, taunted it, and was now here to spread it. His head was bald, tatooed with the signs of all the gods. He had very dark skin and his teeth were slightly pointed and red, some Game trick noone wanted to learn. "The Gods don't like the Wisdoms joining in the war, or they would have interveined by now. It is bad for profit to have all these... Disfigured... Slaves." The man beside the Master looked a boy of twelve at best, a trick of magik never reversed. The Master owned the Man, owned the magik, and had better use of him as he was. "No. They favor it and allow me a wider choice. Some would do well in the Pits." His voice was deep and raspy, setting nerves tingling in fear. "Others would die without a chance." "It would not be the first time." The Master began going over the slaves, some form foreign nations, some from his own. Profit was his either way. Choice depended on looks first. Anyone unusual went to the right, average, or simply not what he was looking for went to the left. There they were divvied up among the shipmasters and the rich. The Master of the Games got first pick always. Next was a physical inspection, and a few more went to the left, unfit or too young, too old for the Pits. The Pits of Hell as they were referred to by many. The Master paused by a young girl. She had obviously been in the way of a Wisdom attack, as her hair was streaked with a deep indigo at the temples, and her eyes were a matching shade. Her face spoke of maturity beyond her years, which at most reached ten. She was tall for a girl, almost five foot already. "Where you from?" The girl turned, looking into the dead eyes. "Everywhere and nowhere." A Nomad then. An agressive people who were having the hardest time with the war, due to their living off the land. A land now tainted by the Battle Magiks. "Your parents?" "They roam the sky." Dead then. Even better. "Your name?" The girl studied him intensely, eyes slowly evaluating every inch of his form. "Is it true that in the Pits, you lose your name, your past, your family. They are reassigned as fits the Master's needs, and therefore yours, for you are nothing but is property?" "Yes." The girl considered. "Then I have no name." "You will do well then. Go right." The girl turned and left, looking straight ahead and seemingly immune to the feelings of fear and helplessness that followed in the wake of the Master of the Games.

Damienn Ravencroft Initiate Posts: 7 (1/12/02 3:02:43 pm) Reply Re: OOC -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sounds good. Edited by: Damienn Ravencroft at: 1/12/02 3:03:24 pm

Justin Silverblade Initiate Posts: 16 (1/9/02 3:53:36 pm) Reply Re: OOC -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I think it'd be a good idea, but it depends on the druid guy here.

peredhil31 Elder of Lists and Manners Posts: 826 (1/9/02 8:01:27 am) Reply ezSupporter OOC -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Would you like me to move this one over to the Conservatory and you could append the post there to this? It would keep everything in one place for the ease and pleasure of the reader. (like me for instance!) -Peredhil

Balladore Page Posts: 34 (1/8/02 10:47:45 pm) Reply And so it Begins... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This shall stay in the Assembly room for future reference, but the Actual RP shall be conducted in the Conservatory. This is the beginning of the story, however, and if some fact needs remembering this is where you look. Happy Hunting~ Balladore

Balladore Page Posts: 33 (1/8/02 10:40:27 pm) Reply Re: To aid a friend... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Greater friends I could not ask for. Though few join me on my quest, all support me, I am sure. Balladore pretended to ponder this for an instant, receiving a quizzical glance from some. Finally, He replied to the applications to join: "Aye, to all of you! We leave at once. Make ready, but pack light. We leave at the crack of dawn, to borrow an expression, and I want you all to know that I value your company, all of you," and at this, he scanned the eyes of the party in front of him... one mage, one swordsman, one knight, a winged fighter... and himself. Together, they were five... but their power was far greater than their numbers. Edited by: Balladore at: 1/14/02 12:04:05 am

Bhurin Initiate Posts: 21 (1/8/02 8:51:53 pm) Reply To aid a friend... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As the final members of the company stepped forward, a cheer erupted from the crowd. They all knew Balladore for a just man, who would follow them into hell himself to aid his friends before refusing his help. And now, in the midsts of the greatest tradgedy of his life, he was pressed to ask them for theirs. They could not, and would never imagine, refusing to help him. First to step forward was Damienn Ravencroft, an honorable but unfamiliar man. Mysterious as shadow, but a light of loyalty and compassion, Next was Jheric, a warmage and rising power in his mage guild; wielder of the elements and forces of nature.. A man whose wits were sharp as his spells. Finally Justin Silverblade, youthful warrior and enthusiast, another man new to the walls but one of few to carry open blade with confidence burning in his eyes. As they all shook, vowing hand and heart to the task before them, Balladore nodded approvingly, hope for his familiy apparant in his face. He smiled, though the thought of his wife still weighed heavily on him, burning in his thoughts unyieldingly. Though he knew the truth, he still thanked the men for their pacts and dedication. As the cheers began to subside into loud murmurings of discussion, it seemed as though an atmosphere of relief came to the hall. These four, with their collective power and will could overcome any obstacle, any challange laid before them. In their hearts they all knew that Balladore would acheive what his heart desired. But, as Balladore turned to speak with his new allies, a sudden hush fell over the room. As every voice died in its throat, Balladore looked up to perceive a giant, newly entered into the room, slowly advancing upon him. The giant stood another head taller than anyone else in the room, his form muscular even beneath the shroud that hid his body. As he walked, his steps resonated with deep bass tones, revealing his massive weight. Once the giant finally reached Balladore, the others prepared themselves, Balladore's face masking any emotion it had. Justin Silverblade gripped the hilt of his blade, freeing it slightly from its scabbard like a predator revealing fangs. Damienn stood defiant at Balladore's side while Jheric, eyes blazing with confidence as usual, smiled descreetly. Finally, the figure stood at rest in front of the Druid, towering over him, but by no means degrading Balladore's pressence. When the giant spoke, its voice echoed, though it spoke in barely above a whisper. Its voice was deep and calm, even sympatheic, "Balladore... Friend. A great tradgedy has descended upon your house, one that must be met swiftly but skillfully... You have more than enough might to meet this challange, but the council will not be compliant. They concern themselves with holding onto influence and sustaining the old creeds while the rest of us must suffer an unorder existence. Perhaps you could use an old diplomat..." The figure, raising his hands, slowly pulled back his hood, revealing himself. Many recognized him immediately for who and what he was. "Bhurin!" Jheric laughed, his voice pleasant with mirth, "You old raptor! I thought you were north, visiting your homeland." Bhurin nodded subtley, now removing the cloak from his back. "I was... But the north winds bid me to my true home, so home I came." As he removed the remains of his cloak, Bhurin revealed why the back of his form had seen so massive. Two large wings unfolded slightly, freed from their cloth prison. As they streatched reflexively, Justin, hand still gripped on his hilt, mouthed the word, "Angel", then began to relax his shoulders. Though he returned to ease, his eyes remained vigilant in disecting the winged man. Damienn, meanwhile, only revealed his surprise by widening his eyes at the sight of Bhurin's wings. As Bhurin turned to meet his gaze, Damienn nodded slightly and said, "Hello." Bhurin smiled, perceiving the two new faces. "These must be the new initiates, though I have little right in saying that. Hello friends, I meet you with joy. I am Bhurin, and I too have just recently found a home here. It pleases me to see you eager to aid your comrades..." Bhurin, finally turning to Balladore, met his friend's face with neutral sympathy. Balladore knew Bhurin's thoughts, and nodded slightly, answering an unasked question. Nodding back, Bhurin threw his cloak to the ground and said, "If you need another blade, I too can weild one. If you need an eye in the sky, or voice to strengthen yours at council, then I am your man. I warn you though, I am somewhat encumbersome. I do not hide easily in the night, and trek by foot at agonizing speeds. I will not offend at a thankful refusal if stealth is what is needed. But I have weilded a sword before... Probably longer than some, but not as passionately as others..." Bhurin's eyes strayed to Justin. Justin smiled slightly, reading the face of a fellow swordsman and knowing the knowledge it held. Removing a large two handed sword from a sheath on his back, the near seven foot angelica knelt before Balladore, holding his sword in his hands lengthwise. Fnially Bhurin finished, "By your word, great Druid. Yay or neigh, only the quest is important. Only the quest matters. I await your word."

Justin Silverblade Initiate Posts: 14 (1/8/02 7:25:27 pm) Reply The smell of Adventure! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A new member to the pen cleared his throat loudly: Justin Silverblade. As a human, a fighter, and an adventurer, he stood. His eyes gazed at the other standing members, and at Balladore. He took a deep breath in, whilst eyes in the room turned to him, and his (shiny) armour. It was a mixture of chain and plate, and would protect him nicely, (so long as he needn't swim ). "This smells of adventure," he said with smile. "I must warn you..." he looked at each of his commrades individually, "I know nothing of magic, the ways of a druid, or elves. But, there's one way to learn, right?" Unsheathing his short sword, Justin held it out, blowing his blonde hair out of his face. "I may be ignorant to everything else, but... I sure know how to use one of these. I'm with ya!" [OOC - Should this thread be moved to the RP room? Also, forgive me Damienn, but I'm not entirely certain of your character class.]

Damienn Ravencroft Initiate Posts: 5 (1/8/02 12:32:03 am) Reply Re: Enter Jheric--When in doubt, blow it up, or away. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As Damienn realizes that he has been accepted, he smiles to himself... this should be an adventure to remember. And as the new mage stepped forward, he watched the sparks shoot from his fingers... this man could be a powerful ally, and he was glad to have him with the group. Damienn watched, wondering if anyone else would take up arms with them...

Balladore Page Posts: 29 (1/7/02 6:16:25 pm) Reply Re: Enter Jheric--When in doubt, blow it up, or away. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I would be honored, I am sure. Very well... thus far we number three. Any others would be greatly appreciated as well. Is there anyone else willing to aid us on our journey?

Gyrfalcon25 Bard Posts: 163 (1/6/02 11:13:33 pm) Reply Enter Jheric--When in doubt, blow it up, or away. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There is a rustle from the back of the crowd, and then a robe-clad figure stood up and called out to the Druid in a deep voice "I'd like a vacation from the front lines, sir... if you would not mind, I'll travel with you. After all, sir, there might be something you need destroyed with the power of magic!" the mage's eyes lit up as he thought about wielding his powers. "Before I accept or decline, what is your name?" Balladore asked him, the audience swivling in their seats to face the one currently speaking. "Eh? I haven't said yet? My apologies, sir... I am Jheric." the mage bowed, hand to his heart, other hand sweeping back and to the side, causing his cloak to billow outward and smack into the face of the armored fighter next to him. The man growled and started to rise, and Jheric straightened and turned. "Eh eh." he said, waving a finger "Not unless you want to end up as a snail, young man." The fighter stared at the finger, or more specifically the air above it, as small sparks began to leap from that point. The man sat down hurriedly, and Jheric "Hmph."ed to himself with a nod, the sparks fading. He looked up at Balladore, and cleared his throat, realizing all eyes were on him. "Your decision, sir?"

Balladore Page Posts: 25 (1/5/02 6:45:57 pm) Reply Re: Revenge is a dish that is best served Cold -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Of course I would love to have you accompany me. After you demonstrated your skills in the Tavern, I'm sure I could use a sword and bow like yours. I am honored to have you with me, as well as any others who wish to accompany us," replied the Druid, smiling.

Damienn Ravencroft Visitor Posts: 3 (1/5/02 3:22:17 pm) Reply Re: Revenge is a dish that is best served Cold -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- OOC: Seeing to the fact that it hasn't been updated for a while, and that the last sentance inlcuded "who's with me" I'm going to assume that this is a misplaced RP thread, which has an excellent beginning. If I am mistaken, an elder would please delete my post as soon as possible :-) thanks, Damienn. IC: Standing up awkwardly, Damienn said as confidently as he could "Well... you're right... you will need help and... if you want... I'll go with you, but... if you don't, that's fine too... I just thought I'd offer to help..." His voice trailed off at the end, and he was blushing furiously as he spoke. He sat down quickly, and hid his head behind his hands. Surprisingly, there were no peals of laughter... yet, anyway.

Balladore Page Posts: 17 (12/29/01 9:12:19 pm) Reply Re: Revenge is a dish that is best served Cold -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Balladore awoke in a sweat... the same dream had re-visited him, once again... For three nights now, it had been coming back. Their village, encircled in flames, people crawling to the top of the walls and diving off just to get out. There was no sign of his wife and daughters, and lately he had been sensing that something was wrong... Every time he looked at his portrait of Aurora, he had a deep, deep feeling of Sadness, and fear. He got up, and dressed himself, checking for the Amulet that he wore every waking moment at his chest, and cloaked himself. He fetched his staff from the chest at the foot of his bed, and walked down the hall on the stone floors, with his staff clunking every other step. As he entered the gardens, he found the boulder that blocked the entrance to his special place, and uttered a few magic words. The stone rolled aside, and granted him passage. The sky above was still dyed with oranges, reds, purples, and pinks from sunrise, and he knelt in the center of his druidic Circle, and prayed to the Lady Nature. As he finished, he pushed himself up with the aid of his staff, and walked to the entrance of his vigilance chamber. He uttered the words again, and left... only to find a runner waiting for him at the entrance to the gardens. His heart immediately clouded over with foreboding at the sight of the messenger's face, and had it not been for his walking stick, he would have collapsed to his knees. The messenger walked forward and presented him with a piece of parchment. His hands trembled as he unrolled the scroll and read the writing. He emitted a long, sorrowful sob. Now, he did collapse to his knees in the Gardens, and held his head in his hands. He wept, and wept, leaving the helpless herald to stand by and watch, until he finally decided to go to the tavern and return later... not that it would be crowded... Most of the inhabitants of the Keep were still asleep, and only a few would be at the Tavern this early. As Balladore finally stopped sobbing, a few hours later, people had come and gone from him in the gardens after he ignored them, deciding it best if he be left alone. When he recovered from his sorrow momentarily, his sadness became anger. He had to take action, and now. He knew where his children would be... they would have beaten him to the trick, but they wouldn't have passed their test yet. He had to reach Council... now. He composed himself, washed his face in a stream that ran through the gardens, collected his parchment, and sought out an Elder... Any elder. He found one, and asked if he could assemble everyone who was able to a meeting. The Elder said that he would try. When there were enough people, Balladore spoke to his audience. "I don't have much time, so I need to make this brief. I have recieved news that the Elven camp where my wife and children were living... was attacked. Not just anyone would dare to attack an elven camp, so I am sure that there is some greater evil at work than just theives and plunderers. What I ask will be dangerous. I know this, and anyone who declines will not be considered a coward. Anyone who is willing... I wish for you to accompany me to council first... then wherever it is deemed we need to go. Who's with me?"

Balladore Page Posts: 16 (12/24/01 10:49:07 pm) Reply Re: Revenge is a dish that is best served Cold -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Follow me, please," said the Rangemaster, and the twins fell into step behind him. "What'd you do that for, Moss?" Battlewrath thought at his sister, and the immediate reply came "What do you care?! He could've been a dark-elf for all we knew, and you were supporting HIM!" "It's not my fault that you didn't look at the insignia on his arms, stupid!" "Stupid, huh? We'll see who's stupid!" With this, she launched a kick into his chin, and jumped on top of him. Battlewrath performed a simple roll, and came up on top. His sister gave a fierce head-but, and dazed 'wrath so that he fell off of her. She was about to jump onto him again, when the Rangemaster finally realized what was going on behind him and snagged Bladesong by the hair at the top of her head, right where it hurts the most. She gave a scream at this, and flailed out vainly with her feet and legs, failing to connect with her captor. "Enough of this! I said enough!" When the rebellious girl refused to comply, the rangemaster muttered a few encantations, and Bladesong fell to the earth, stiff as a board, paralyzed, right next to her brother who was still dazed from his sister's wrath.

Balladore Page Posts: 13 (12/20/01 11:12:41 pm) Reply Re: Revenge is a dish that is best served Cold -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Bladesong and Battlewrate trooped out to the Ranger's training grounds... this was something they didn't know how to do... it was something they had always dreamed about, of course, but they had never actually thought about how it was done. They watched the archery range for a moment. Some of the elves there were worse shots then they, but the majority were far better. They had several tests to pass, that was for sure... but who to talk to? As they pondered, someone came up behind Bladesong and was about to tap her on the shoulder when she sensed his presence, and whirled to meet him, with dagger drawn. "Whoa, there, missy. Just what do you think you're doin' out here on the training grounds?" "I'm Bladesong, and this is my brother, Battlewrath. We're here to become Rangers," she said straightforwardly... she had never liked to beat around the bush. "Aye, so I see," the newcomer said while eyeing the elven stell that was still in the sister's hand, "and from the looks of it, ye won't have any troubles, either." Battlewrath suppressed a smile, and politely asked who they were supposed to see about begining their training. "Me," replied the stranger with a smile, "I'm the Rangemaster 'round here, and I'd appreciate it if you'd have that sister of yours put her dagger away before she loses it." Battlewrath was about to nod to his sister in agreement with the stranger, but she had been insulted by his remark, and wasn't about to do anything that he said. "Lose it? And how exactly would that happen, Sire?" the last word she said mockingly, as if daring him to try something... he did just that. With a neat flip kick, the dagger went soaring straight up into the air but a little behind the Rangemaster. He did a backflip to catch it and did, only to find the Elven girl standing over him with yet another dagger. "I may lose one, but with this one at your throat I wouldn't suggest moving any time soon." "Sis! Put it away!" Battlewrath ran up behind his sister, and disarmed her. She glared at him, and if eyes could shoot the daggers she'd just lost, her brother would have been dead.

Balladore Initiate Posts: 11 (11/3/01 10:32:59 pm) Reply Re: Revenge is a dish that is best served Cold -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Finally, the next day, the two siblings trecked on towards the Elven council. They had to present a request there, and have it sponsored to the council by their representative, Blackstaff. They had dealt with him before when their father had taken it upon himself to slay the dragon, and that had caused some problems. Still, this was too large of an assault on the Elven kingdoms to be ignored by the council. For 3 days they ran (not consecutively, of course), and finally reached Hillcrest, the meeting-place of the counicl; on the top of a hill stood a huge stone table, forged by the Elven King himself. Around this table stood 326 chairs; one for each of the representative of the various tribes throughout Terra, and one for the King himself. The position that the chair was at was directly related with how much power the tribe had; If you were near the king, you had very much power. Thus, the tribe's representative that had the least power sat directly across from the King. Of course, the table was so large that this Representative couldn't even see the King's eyes; Blackstaff's chair sat 18 from the king on the right, so the clan was considered high in power. The two siblings sought out his tent, where he would probably be dressing for the council session that day (as it was held every day). They found it, and he was indeed inside preparing for council. "We've come to declare a bloodfeud" said Battlewrath forewardly, and Blackstaff dropped the comb he was holding. "E-excuse me?" He replied quaveringly, with surprise in his eyes. "Perhaps you should explain... come and sit here," he indicated a small table with 4 stools around it. The two elves took their seats and related the tale to Blackstaff, not forgetting the fact that they wanted to perform the trials to become Rangers. When they had finished, Blackstaff sat astonished. "What is left?" he asked, after he regained his wits. "We don't know... we didn't stay long enough to find out," replied Bladesong menacingly. "Look, you take this to council, and get it approved, no matter what it takes. Wrath and I will not sit still for this; action must be taken" "Yes, you're quite right... though I don't know how the council will react to such a-" "Get it approved, Blackstaff," Battlewrath interrupted, "or you won't have a clan left to represent." And with that, Blackstaff gulped and exited the tent. Soon after, the brother and sister exited themselves... there was one thing more to be dealt with this day-applying to become rangers.

Balladore Initiate Posts: 10 (10/31/01 11:07:04 pm) Reply Re: Revenge is a dish that is best served Cold -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- On and on, Faster and faster he ran, carrying his sobbing sister the entire way... his feet pounded the ground silently, as only elves can manage. Faster... faster... He ran until he could run no more, and as luck would have it he collapsed by a brook. Mossflower climbed down off of her brother's back, and cupped some water in her hands for him to drink. She was still crying, but silently for fear that the raiders could hear her somehow. She had only been fooled by her mother saying that she would be "right behind them" for a moment. Now, she was angry... she realized what they had done... and she would declare a Bloodfeud. A Bloodfeud could only be declared at the wrongful loss of lives... And this certainly qualified. They would have to change their names, and adopt the way of the Elven Ranger... it was a title aspired to by their entire clan- the rangers were renowned for their Archery, scouting, stealth, and fighting ability... but they could make it. They had both had classes from their mother in Archery, and were quite good. Both had keen eyesight and could blend in to any backdrop- in fact, they were so much alike they were often mistaken for twins. Lutra recovered, and said the exact same thing that Mossflower had been thinking: "Moss... do you think we should consider... appealing for a feud?" "Yes... soon... we have to get to the council... and we should choose our names... You know the rules as well as I do- and don't even think that we won't get accpeted... there's no way that this won't qualify." "Fine," he said, without questioning how she had known what he was thinking... they always had had a sort of... connection... She could even transmit immages to him, sometimes, but it seemed that this connection was the strongest at the extreme motions... Now it would be raging, at the death of their mother. The year before when the Dragon had attacked the camp and their father had gone out to Slay it, they had panicked and it had been almost as strong as it was now... Lutra thought for a moment. It had to be a warrior's name, as all Ranger's were, and he could never use his old name again. He decided in an instant... he started the ritual: "I, currently known as Lutra, claim the rank of Ranger to be tested at a later date. From this day onward, in my improved state, I shall be known as Battlewrath. Let this be sealed!" At this last word, depictions of thorn bands encircled his biceps on both arms. His sister began as the markings appeared, and became permenant: "I, currently known as Mossflower, claim the rank of Ranger to be tested at a later date. From this day onward, in my improved state, I shall be known as Bladesong. Let this be sealed!" As she finished, her markings appeared- except they were Roses in a band on her biceps. With this, they were both exhausted, and fell asleep under the nearest tree together.

Balladore Initiate Posts: 9 (10/28/01 9:40:27 pm) Reply Revenge is a dish that is best served Cold -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Elven mother and her two children walked outside on the beautiful fall day. The cold nipped at them, challenging their willpower, as it was on account of Aurora’s husband who was away that they were outside on a day like this, planting bulbs for spring. Aurora’s husband, Balladore, was a druid who was away on an application trip to a writer’s guild, the most prestigious in the land, and probably wouldn’t be back for another week. The walls around the village where they lived were high, and there were plenty of people to take care of them while he was away, so she had given her consent to him applying. He loved to write, after all, and was up many a night composing songs, poems, ballads, and stories… it was one of the things that had attracted her to him in the first place. She could still remember the first story he ever told her, when they had first met out in the forest… they had to spend the night out there, for it was a 3 day’s walk back to camp… he had been praying to Nature, and meditating, and she had been out with a foraging party for the Elven village’s spring festival, which she had invited him to… They had made camp in the forest that night, and he had spent the night in her tent, though nothing had happened between them… not yet, anyway. On the cold air, her breath appeared like steam as she sighed… time to stop wishing he were here and get to work. The children and her walked out to their little flower garden, which was always tended by him when he was here- concentrate, Aurora. They came to the frosty garden and the children dug into the ground with their spades, while Aurora placed in the bulbs. They were actually doing quiet well, the Tulips almost planted, until it came. Arrows hailed down on the camp from the walls above. Screams came from everywhere, and Aurora herself fell, caught in the chest with one. She gasped, and fell to her knees. The children screamed and ran to her, and she gave them her final instructions: “Lutra, Mossflower, go! Run, save yourselves! I’ll be right behind you, children… I just have to get something out of the house. Now listen to me, go out the east gate and into the forest. Go to our alcove, where your father showed us. I’ll meet you there in a moment, just go…” her voice trailed off, and with one last sob, they went, with the boy (Lutra) in the lead. The kept low, like they had been taught, and made their way to the east gate… they checked for enemies outside before leaving, but saw none. Silently, they eased open the gate and took their leave, with tears streaming unchecked down their faces the whole way.

Hydrus Visitor Posts: 2 (1/16/02 5:00:03 am) Reply Chapter Two -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER TWO: REVELATIONS Just south of Estalia, Ulag Bonesmasha stepped up onto a large flat rock to address his assemlbled orc band. He was bedecked in full war gear, and he surveyed the Orc Clan in it's entirity of forty of so with pride. "Alrite ladz. Come ta orda. LADZ!" he roared. "Dat's betta. Now, we iz all here taday to smash some 'umies. Da big skele man says 'e will giv uz some rite nasty clubs an' sords iv we get 'im da shiny green stuff off da humie caravans. Does we want sum more clubs an' sords?" "YEAH!" "An' does we wanna bash sum of da humies?" "YEAH!" "Den let's go kick sum humie butt!" "WAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHH!!!" ************************ Hydrus squinted hard into the distance. The red dirt road stretched out into hazy oblivion as the heat obscured it's end. Louen glanced at his friend, but knew better than to interrupt him. He stroked his moustache, and adjusted his pack. It weighed heavily on him, and his arm still wasn't as strong as usual. Finally, Hydrus turned away from the horizon and wiped his brow. The sun glared down at them from a cloudless sky, forcing their bodies to continually sweat and their water supplies to dwindle. They were travelling through the foothills of the Grey Mountains, and hopefully they would soon reach the Brettonian held Quenelles Pass, and head directly south into Estalia. "See anything interesting?" said Louen casually. "Not sure. There's something there." They walked on in silence for a few more moments, then Hydrus stopped dead. "What?" said Louen. "Can you hear that?" Louen halted and pricked his ears up. Silence hung over the rocky hills like a veil. He heard nothing. "Sorry old chap, looks like my ears aren't as good as yours." "Shhhh! listen." Louen frowned by tried again. And there it was, faintly, the sounds of clashing, sowrds on shields. "Battle?" "Hmmm." "What do we do?" "Wait." "Wait?! But what if it's an invasion? What if the Brettonians are fighting a horde of Orcs? What if the Wood Elves are invading?" "I'm not going to fight for no reason." "You're a Slayer for Sigmars sake! You're supposed to be battle hungry and blood thirsty! You'er supposed to soak up war like a sponge! Why not go in and get your mission over and done with?" The dwarf remained calm. "My ears are better than yours. There are Brettonians, I can hear the horses, but I can't hear any enemy." "Strange. Well, if they're aren't any enemies, why don't we head in?" "Wait." Louen recognised Hydrus' tone. It was the tone he always used when he wanted to finish an argument whilst trying to convince that he knew what he was doing. The dwarf rarely used that tone, but he was also rarely wrong. They waited a full ten minutes, doing nothing but listening. Louen shifted from one foot to another. Finally, Hydrus waved his hand. "Let's go." The companions walked into the fort of Quenelles which straddled the Pass. It was strewn with obvious signs of a large battle. Smoke wafted lazily from one of the black stone turrets, and slain warriors lay everywhere. There were a few brightly dressed horsemen, the famous Brettonian Knights of the Realm, but there were far more bodies which were endlessly more disturbing, bleached white human bones littered the ground. Skeletons. Undead. The horrible realisation crept into Louen mind like the Creeping Vines used by the Verdant Mages. He shuddered. He'd only seen Undead once before, and it was one too many times. Hydrus on the other hand had fought the minions of the Undeath dozens of times. His grandfathers had fought against the Tomb Kings of Khremi at the Battle of Dragonback in the Empire. It was in his blood to kill those that were already dead. Still, he suspected it didn't make the expreience any easier. Hydrus unstitched his massive axe from his pack. It gleamed in the midday sun, the intricate red Runes glowing softly in response to the dark magic that still lingered on the battle field. Louen likewise drew his longsword. They crept silently among the fallen, slowly making their way towards to the damaged Castle ahead of them. The huge portcullis that normally barred the way south to Estalia had been battered by a giant log, it had held, but only just. Hydrus glanced around, and then moved towards a heavy looking wooden door to the side of the portcullis. Knocking twice sharply, he boomed out a typical dwarf greeting; "Open or I shall break it down!" His voice snapped the eerie silence which still clung in the air. It was only a few moments before a voice called back in a Brettonian accent. "Who goes there?" Louen placed the voiceon the parapet above them. "Travellers from the Empire! Open this damned door!" roared Hydrus. The door swung open silently. A short unhealthy looking man wearing the tattered uniform of a Squire appeared. He looked over the duo quickly. "Names?" "Hydrus Hydrobear." said the Dwarf. "Louen Jellar." The squire made a note on a piece of paper. "Destination?" "Estalia." "Buisness or pleasure?" Louen raised an eyebrow. Who in their right mind would go to Estalia for fun? Hydrus answered. "Buisness." Presently, another Squire ran up to the first, whispered in his ear, then stepped back, staring rudely at Hydrus. The first one turned and grinned. "You're wanted in the Empire you know Mr Hydrobear?" "Really? I didn't notice." Hydrus stared back. The Squire ignored him. "We have an Alliance with the Empire you know? They give us our criminals, we give them theirs." Hydrus gripped his Axe tighter, and took a step foward, but Louen jumped in front of him, facing the Squire. "Had a few fights eh?" he said quickly. The Squire shrugged. "Maybe." "Looks like Undead to me." The Squire eyed him carefully. "Undead. Nasty critters. You know Nether magic is highly illegal?" The Squire looked at the ground. "I know it. Got a point?" Hydrus stared at the man with a gaze that would have made an Orc blush. Louen struggled to keep him from decking the man there and then. "Looks to me that they're on your side of the Border. That would imply that they came from you Bretts. Now I know that the Empire wouldn't be very happy to hear about that. They'd probably forget all about us to come down here kill a few hundred ugly little Squires like your good self. Wouldn't want that now would we?" The Squire shook his head. "Gonna open up the gates for us?" The Squire gave him a harsh look and then yelled into the hall behind him. "Piotr! Open up the Gates!" A moments silence, then the cranking hearlded the raising of the portcullis. Louen smiled and then walked over. Hydrus stared hard at the Squire, spat at his feet, then followed his friend. ***************************** Achates stepped warily out of the Coach and on to the cobblestone road of the Middenheim docks. He looked up at the giant Ship which dominated the busy scene. It was a three mast Frigate, a large ship by Imperial standards, and was the centre of attention on the frosty morning. A large brass sign on the side of the ship bore it's name, the Revelation. Captain Alcadan was walking up onto the ship via a boarding plank, being follwoed by a porter carrying several large cases. "Careful with that!" shouted Achates, all too wary of how much his experiment equipment cost. He grabbed a small bag and hurried after them. He was shown to his room by a cabin boy. It was little more than a dark nook with a cabinet and a hammock. Having never been on a ship before, Achates was quite put off by the continual creaking of the boards. He packed away a few of his belongings, then went up on deck. Achates noticed Captain Alcadan staring into the glistening ocean. The early morning sun danced playfully off the white crests of waves as they gently brushed against the ship. Any sailor would have counted his lucky stars to be out on a day like this. The pleasure was however, lost on Achates. "How old are you Achates?" "I'm twenty two sir." "You're intelligent then?" Achates hesitated. "Er, I like to think so Sir." he said, hoping it would break some of the ice. It didn't. "You'd need to be I suppose. Do you know why the Master chose you? I mean, instead of the other more talented and higher ranking students and scholars?" This caught Achates off guard. It hadn't even crossed his mind. "I, err, well, no Sir." "You're expendable." Achates had a mental blank. He couldn't quite get his thoughts around what Alcadan had said, but it did make sense. "Oh dear..." said Achates finally. For the first time, the Captain smiled. "Indeed. Don't worry, Valorem, you'll be fine with me." he paused. "Do you know what they call this Sea, Achates?" "Why, every school child knows its the Sea of Claws, Captain." "Yes. And do you know why they call it this?" Achates thought for a moment. "I'm afriad I don't know, Captain." "Because when the first humans went to sea, the Phantasmic Elves of Ulthuan brought their powers against them by summoning up giant claws from the water to grab and throw their boats about. I cannot imagine what they made of it. And this, this is the very same waters which were there two thousand years ago at the birth of humaity. A rather disconcerting story, isn't it Achates?" "Very, Captain." *********************************************** Six hundred miles north of where Hydrus and Louen were, in the far north of Brettonia at the capital Couronne, King Leonceur of Brettonia stared at his Intelligence Advisor with a harsh frown. "Attacked?" "Indeed, my Lord." "Who won?" "Well, we did Sire. The Battle report the Squire sent us shows that the garrison of Knights of the Realm perished in the battle, but a small contingent of Archers was able to force back the invaders from atop the battlements." "Was there any damage to the fortress?" The Advisor glanced over the report in his hand. "Slight damage to the portcullis, a fire in one of the towers, nothing major sire." The King nodded. "Dispatch a regiment of Knights immeadiately to reinforce the fortress. Send messages of my most sincere condolances to the families. Oh, and inform The Empire, they should probably know about this." The Advisor hesitated. "Uhhh, Sire, perhaps that may not be the most wise course of action." "And why not?" "Well sire, the attackers, they were Undead." "Undead? The Estalians....they must have more waprstone than we estimated." "Actually Sire, the Undead were on our side of the border. We cannot tell the Empire of this because they would instantly send a massive army and turn half the Castles in Brettonia upside down looking for the source. Whoever," the Advisor hesitated, " whatever sent the Undead is most likely within Brettonia even as we speak." *********************************************** Isabella von Carstein took the hand of her husband and alighted from the Black Coach. As she looked up into the night sky, and a strange thought entered her mind. A distant memory, from before she became one of the Nobility, a memory so differant and unlike what she was now that it might as well have been from a differant life. This was a memory from a mortal. She sat on the steps of her family townhouse, a young girl, staring up into the sky just as she was now, the large warm figure of her father sitting beside her. "There is a story, Isabella, that the night sky is a giant sheet. A massive cover of the purest black, seperating our mortal world from the paradise of Heaven. The stars are tiny pin pricks from the spears of the Gods, tiny holes letting just a tiny dot of heavenly light down from above. The size of the light dosen't matter, it is it's existence that gives us hope that we might one day cross that giant sheet to the glory above...." "Isabella! Dear, are you ill?" The Vampiric Countess awoke with a start from her daydream. She looked down to her Husband, standing there with such care, such concern in his otherwise cold and heartless eyes. "Yes, yes of course Vlad. I am fine. We have arrived?" "Indeed. I am ready to begin the spell. Shall we?" Vlad smiled. Isabella nodded and they walked foward towards the edge of the cliff. Earlier that day they had sent forth a large regiment of skeletons to take control of Quennelles Pass so as to allow them easy passage to Estalia. Although they had not expected such a defeat, the Von Carsteins were not unprepared. The summoning of the skeletons had left them with little mana left, but the Vampires were intelligent creatures, they had with them a number of mana crystals with which they could cast a teleportation spell to move them directly into Estalia. They had to be within a certain distance of their destination, and it was extremely expensive work, both in mana and energy. Clearing his mind, Vlad Von Carstein looked out over the cliffs of the Grey Mountains, facing south towards Estalia. Clutching the glowing Mana crystal in his hand, he and his wife directed all their power to the delicate spell. Incandescent magic erupted from their bodies, coating the surrounding region a purple glow, a moment later, they were gone. Garbold the Coachman watched the empty air for several moments, then sighed and flicked the reins and began the journey back to Slyvania.

Gyrfalcon25 Bard Posts: 183 (1/15/02 10:05:56 pm) Reply Re: Feedback -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Gyr grins and sits back for more*

peredhil31 Elder of Lists and Manners Posts: 838 (1/15/02 10:30:14 am) Reply ezSupporter Feedback -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm a-likin' it so far. If you use the ezcodes to format, it will make it easier to read for some of our visually impaired/browser challenged readers. -Peredhil