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gorgometh
 
PostPosted: Tue, Oct 30 2012, 5:18 AM 

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Location: Southeast (USA)

For a little over two weeks now, travelers and common-folk seem to be witness to strange sightings. From as far South as Cordor and as far North as Kohlingen, each whispered story seems to contain one similar detail...

A child. A small boy, no older than eight with dark hair, but most notably, bandages tightly wound over his eyes. Strange indeed to see such a boy wandering on his own, but what might be even more odd is that when spotted, he seems to vanish without a trace. Leaving many to wonder if they ever saw him at all, or if, by chance, some shadow was merely playing tricks on their eyes.

One thing is clear, to anyone that might be following these tales, sightings are becoming more frequent, more vivid and all the more real.


______________________________


 
      
DerkDerkistan
 
PostPosted: Wed, Oct 31 2012, 9:39 AM 

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A rather morose, dusky skinned sun elf lay in her bed, not in the Salandran temple, but in Wharftown's Slanty Shanty. She kept the door locked and any windows covered. No candles were lit. She did not send for food or drink; Instead, she passed her time either sleeping, crying, or rolling around in pain.

"Anthony," She spoke occasionally. "They won't stop fighting. They stole my spellbook....what am I supposed to do?"

_________________
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PhantomDream
 
PostPosted: Wed, Oct 31 2012, 12:06 PM 

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Kaytie never meant to hurt Cilessa. She never meant to hurt anyone. All she meant was to find a way to bring her old friend back. Back from what ailment deluded her mind. Back from the taint that caused her not to see clearly. All these events, they were breaking down the barrier that made it impossible for her to see the real world. After today, she most definitely saw something. Cilessa clawed at her temples, the same as Aylomen. Kacha swore the "being" was feeding off them. Cilessa reciting her negative thoughts, the same tone she kept when she did her experiment; where she almost killed them. All of it even boiled down to Shar. The dogma the child was quoting.

Something was wrong. It didn't add up right.

They all saw it. Those who were there, on the Hill, they saw it. They all felt it.

Anthony had to be stopped. He was tricking Celiesa into his game, his ploy.


--
The spellbook and diamond were just the beginning. She would find others to help. She would lie, if she had to. She didn't need to ask her faith for guidance this time. The love in her heart, and the overwhelming feeling of protecting her friend kicked in. She just hoped she was right.


 
      
serbiris
 
PostPosted: Wed, Oct 31 2012, 12:09 PM 

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Location: Sydney, Australia

One particular individual takes note of the rumours; in various guises he travels the island, perhaps in search of the apparition. Occasionally he dares to question a commoner as to whether or not the child spoke to anyone, or made known its desires or intentions. The search is cautious, but persistent. The individual, if noted at all, seems content to simply observe at this time, rather than delve deeply into the matter.


 
      
P Three
 
PostPosted: Wed, Oct 31 2012, 12:40 PM 

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Hearing the rumours, a blonde Tormtar sets out in full armour from Kohlingen, longblade strapped to
her hip. She starts scouring and checking for traces of the child, or any marks of evil as Paladins can detect.

(Delia will use Detect Evil as necessary if the child is seen)

_________________
Bobo_Underhill wrote:
Ley lines, y'all. Just let me go wrangle up my cowboy boots and lasso us up some magic.

Yee-haw!


Aly'dra Zau'ana: Priestessish Of Eilistraee
Danika Nefzen: Druid of the Earthmother
Delia Am'Anodel: Paladin of Torm


 
      
gorgometh
 
PostPosted: Wed, Oct 31 2012, 15:11 PM 

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Location: Southeast (USA)

Any common-folk that might be questioned, should they even deign to reply, would not be able to offer any specific insight into these strange apparitions. Every now and then, one or two might add that they thought they heard something coming from the boy.

The child was humming a sorrowful sounding song.

One might be able to discern that whatever this being's purpose, it has little or nothing to do with simple travelers.


______________________________


 
      
Grymia
 
PostPosted: Wed, Oct 31 2012, 19:22 PM 

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Location: Kohlingen, and a Basement in Canada

In Kohlingen, a Gnomish Magician went over a particular spell he'd been working on and it's formulaic notes, trying to discern within them if there is anything he is yet missing, as he thought to himself.

~... Too much struggle.. too much infighting.. all it takes, is one with doubt... ~


 
      
AlannaMolov
 
PostPosted: Wed, Oct 31 2012, 22:56 PM 

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Alanna moves through Wharftown like an oncoming storm, dark and hostile. She convenes briefly with the High Priest of Selune before heading back out into the settlement, moving with single- minded purpose. She seems to be collecting things- oysters suspected to contain pearls are bought from the fishermen by the dock, a jug of ox milk, and several other odd items.

She sits and waits for the moon to rise.

_________________
Alanna of Wharftown, Captain of the Hands of Ieriyn

"A soft woman
is simply a wolf
caught in meditation."


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NinjaClarinet
 
PostPosted: Wed, Oct 31 2012, 23:35 PM 



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Elsewhere, in an alien world of shadow and impenetrable darkness, a lone knight attends his meditations, secluded in a shallow cave behind a waterfall of icy, pitch black fluid. He strips to the waist, revealing a figure seemingly bleached of all color, and possessing the lithe, toned build of a dancer and swordsman. His features are angular, severe, and an otherwise immaculate body is marred by a maimed left hand, the skin half way up the forearm replaced by nothing more than thin, unpliable scar tissue and exposed, toughened muscle and tendon. Taking only a moment to brace himself, he steps under the pounding weight of the waterfall, the raw, bone-jarring shock of cold as familiar as an old friend. Arms outstretched, face and palms angled upward into the heaviness of the viscous water, he lets the cold spread through his body, leaching away all the heat of life and mortality. The dull ache behind punished eyes is soothed, the stiffness of the old wound eased. The ritual is easy and familiar to this man as his breathing slows, opening himself to the dark power of his strange home. The myriad whispers in the dark greet him, and the distinct pulse of the Plane listened for and acknowledged as he slips into the trance needed to replenish his body and sate the reliance.

Time flows indistinctly in this strange realm, and the man doesn't rush the work, taking the time to replenish what he needs, and never hasty enough to lose himself in the barely contained insanity of it all. Slowly, methodically he backs away from the trance, stepping forward out of the waterfall, the icy pool lapping around his waist. His hands angle downward now, palms toward the surface of the water as he begins a sort of exercise. Tendrils of shadow rise from the rippling surface of the thick pool, slowly entwining about the body of the man. The shadows move, directed by his will, languid and unhurried. A slow illumination begins, a flickering, purple light cast by eldritch flames, rising from the stone surface he stands on, indifferent to the water that would quench a normal flame. The shadows are not vanquished by this light, merely lent life and sent dancing chaotically.

An image comes to his mind, unbidden. That of a child's hand, encompassed lovingly by the flawless, ghost-white hand of a familiar feminine figure. Despite himself, he smiles, murmuring softly with only the shadows for an audience;

"Forever is a long time, Anthony."

His thoughts change again, and he sees the woman smiling, now. A small smile, dark and mysterious, but genuine. Some part of him knew he was a slave to those smiles. His brow furrows in muted concern, the flames and umbral tendrils melting away into the darkness of the realm as his concentration falters.

"And it seems you've maneuvered me into ensuring you'll be around to collect on that bet. Well played, little one. Well played indeed."


 
      
Bini
 
PostPosted: Thu, Nov 01 2012, 1:05 AM 

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On her way home from the Slanty Shanty, a dysfunctional blonde had contemplated the wisdom her decision to leave the emotionally distressed illusionist on her own. How could she know Alanna would come? How could she ensure Cilessa wouldn't come to the same desperate measures that Lilia was all too familiar with? With this in mind as she brought her knuckles to the door of the Fryar-household, Lilia stayed her hand and instead caught the next ferry back to Wharftown.

"F-faintly burns the candle, that shines to light the way... It keeps away the darker things till the c-c-coming of the day."

_________________
feel the blood gushing from your anus
ONE
feel the blood gushing from your anus


 
      
DerkDerkistan
 
PostPosted: Thu, Nov 01 2012, 1:20 AM 

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The storm raged on. She kept herself talking, to Lilia, to herself, to nobody at all, just to try and forget about the agony inside her mind.

Crazy.
That's what they call her when they think she can't hear them.

Thieves.
That's what they are. They stole her spellbook. They stole her friendship.


She slept. She woke. Over the course of the day in the aftermath of the Hill of Lost Souls, Cilessa herself became one of those very souls. An hour of lucidity was replaced by an hour of incoherent ramblings. She measured time by the pounding of the war drums inside her head; One second. Two. Three. Time stretched and stretched, pulling and distorting her reality into shapes she could no longer recognize.

The scratching of a quill broke the silence in her room. She lay in her bed, covers pulled over her head, and she wrote. The book of War Lullabies that Kaytie had given her to read no longer resembled the book it was. Scrawled into every margin, between words, over pictures, and even overlapping things she had already written were more ramblings. The writing, however, was therapeutic. The waves broke over the wall inside her mind much more slowly as she scrawled in the book, like the pain was leaking out through the ink in the quill. She bled herself out into the book.

Crazy.
If they only knew how they sounded.

Broken.
And for what? For people that gave up on her as soon as things began to look bleak...


"Who are the broken ones, truly?"

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AzureLuna
 
PostPosted: Thu, Nov 01 2012, 3:25 AM 

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In a dark castle on a solitary island, a tune echoes through the castle. First the melody is a hum, then a voice, then the sounds of a violin join in. The phrase pauses and repeats, almost as though it is a song stuck inside the mind of the castle walls themselves. It's familiar somehow, and yet it is transforming and the harmonies layer in their complexity.

...Perhaps the simple notes are taking on a life of it's own.

A soft whisper carries through the shadows sounding like a reply to a question unsaid... "It is not so difficult to understand... That kind of emptiness."

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The1Kobra
 
PostPosted: Thu, Nov 01 2012, 6:34 AM 

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Kurchin went over to the Salandran temple recovery ward for a visit. Of note, he had a wrapped bundle, holding a slice of cake. After reaching the recovery ward, he looks around, apparently for a patient that isn't there.

Cilessa...?

The kobold looked rather worried after that, and headed off soon after.

--------------------------------------
--------------------------------------

A rather tense looking Kobold guardsman patrolled the night in Wharftown, Saylgarix seemed even more tense than usual, which was certainly something. He kept a rather hefty looking mace on his belt and continued to finger it throughout his patrol with one hand, other hand on the hilt of a poisoned kukri. He mostly kept to himself, but he seemed ready to brain someone at even a slight instigation.

Every target has a weakness, just need to get the right tool for the right job, and set the circumstances favorably...

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gorgometh
 
PostPosted: Fri, Nov 02 2012, 5:07 AM 

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...Bounce...

A small red ball, bounds back into the hand of a child after striking the ground.

.....Bounce....

This time, he grips it tighter, squeezing the rubber encasement filled with air.

.....Bounce-...bounce-.....bounce-....

The toy escapes the child, rolling across the darkened floors of some untold hall. Shadows reach out of the child at will, jerking the ball back into his small hand with a violent force. As the shadowed tendril recedes, he whispers softly, to no one.
"There is no compassion. Their light is words, and their words are empty. There is no compassion, only pain."

....Bounce....


 
      
Bini
 
PostPosted: Fri, Nov 02 2012, 7:39 AM 

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While dabbing away the mineral residue from the tears that had stained her face, LIlia tapped the end of her quill on the page incessantly. She had meant to write a letter to her uncle in order to convince him of the validity and adherence to Lathanderian values in Cilessa's ideas that she herself saw, but she just couldn't stop wondering: "Was she right?" With the ink drying out quickly in its pot, she'd idly trace Aylomen's dawnrise then write in the two resulting circles:

Lilia wrote:
Image

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feel the blood gushing from your anus
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feel the blood gushing from your anus


 
      
PhantomDream
 
PostPosted: Fri, Nov 02 2012, 9:19 AM 

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..and then that feeling diminished.

She couldn't do the right thing. She didn't know how to do the right thing, because she didn't know which way was the right way. She could listen to her heart, which was telling her to find a cure and stop the monster that was possessing the child from harming all she loved, or she could listen to her friend and do nothing. Nothing was pretty hard to do these days, but so was listening to her heart.

As her thought process went on, and the pain and struggle came and went, she sat at the wee hours of the morning in the Temple of Love straining to make since of it all. Vigil after vigil, she spent most of her nights curled up in a ball on the masseuse table in the back room, only to sleep but a few hours, before returning home to the man she loved. The routine became promising. She came from home to go to work at the Academy, and then she left the Academy and went on her way to the Temple for vigil. She spent hours in vigil, and then would walk around Kholingen and Cordor to find someone to talk to.

While most conversations echoed her back to Anthony, and the problem that was on the rise, a small look of clarity began to form. She didn't want to deal with Sharran children, or Sharran enclaves, or Sharran anything. She'd lost a friend or two already to the sway of the evil goddess, she didn't want to stand by and watch another. Though, she had a connection with Cilessa and most of those who catered to the child as if it was their own blood, she could not do the same. She found their trust in a being they'd known a few weeks disgusting, and misled. Yet was she really one to truly judge?

She was human... She knew how it felt to make mistakes...


...but in a world, back before her time on Amia, she knew how to be silent too..

...and it was silence that was her final choice.


 
      
Ravenovf
 
PostPosted: Sat, Nov 03 2012, 3:28 AM 

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The drow priestess had been exposed to the child through Castial and Andrew at first and later when she had accompanied the team of adventurers to the haunted hill. She had not changed her mind. In spite of her focus on other matters she could not help but think about a supernatural predator being treated like a child and it made her temper boil. Witch she reasoned was good, the monster possibly some kind of advanced Fetch was clearly an emotion feeder and neither her fury nor conviction were emotions it cared for.

It had threatened her twice now, called her powerless, claimed she would die like the rest. All words the priestess had heard from a dozen foul things that lay broken and forgotten. She had been tested by devil lords, Demon princes and even Lolth herself. This spirit try as it might would find her will was adamantite. The only thing that vexed her was in trying to figure out how to kill this Fetch before it grew too powerful to end and thus she paced her mind trying to focus on this out of the myriad of other tasks she had set before herself for the betterment of Amia.


 
      
Rigela
 
PostPosted: Sat, Nov 03 2012, 21:29 PM 

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Within Winya a rather more preoccupied figure of Shyllia would be seen moving to the storage dwellings, where the libraries contained wealth had been put in place for the time. A copy of a note kept on hand, she scanned it over a final time "...Therefore I recommend you ask the librarians or me what you need...."

The less that knew, the better, seemed to be their current voice of reason.

To keep themselves strong and united, or to simply pretend they were?

That, they were not. If they could not stay strong themselves... then how could anyone else?




Lady Le'quella was correct though, searching on her own was going to be an arduous task - she didn't even know where to begin to start to find what the human had asked her to find, Andrew was it? She still only knew a few of their names, or even any of them beyond what she had been drawn into. "Matters on Sharran faith or even Labelas. Old rituals associated with them and the shadow weave" was what he had asked for and surely the archives of the elves would have something, some mention that would be of use.

Prying open the first box, she began to dig through it with little success but refused to let this dampen her progress. Their only real other option was not something to consider and the other elf researching was... peculiar indeed. Better to rely on something reliable. And so she continued on relentlessly, moving through box after box in the hope that something might be found. Shifting them all into piles and corners of the building as she discarded them as of no use to the matter at hand

Sighing quietly to herself, she looked over the note from the lady of Le'quella a final time.

"Is it a risk worth taking?" She asked of herself.

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Estara
 
PostPosted: Wed, Nov 07 2012, 12:26 PM 

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Samantha shares whispers with a certain mage. Books, spells, worries, children, death, shadows and family... what's more important in the game of life? She never claimed to know the answers. Yet this time she knew where she stood on the issue. Cilessa might not understand her, Cilessa might pine after Samantha's accomplishments, but Cilessa didn't know what Samantha was thinking or planning. Perhaps she'd be pleased or perhaps she'd turn into the next Vyashir. Either way the renegade paladin felt a purpose. One she hadn't for a long, long time.

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Grymia
 
PostPosted: Wed, Nov 07 2012, 17:43 PM 

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Tuomas took some time aside to slowly begin to prepare to work more on his own side of the project, seeming to ponder to himself the nesscessary aspects of what he'd need to modify to make what he was doing possible.


 
      
AzureLuna
 
PostPosted: Fri, Nov 09 2012, 0:10 AM 

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Emilie sits alone in a mist-filled garden, her hands folded in her lap, as though she is waiting for something.. though her expression suggests that she does not expect that something to occur.

She murmurs aloud as she pulls out her supplies to paint, "That cannot be the solution, that must be wrong... I truly hope he is mistaken."

The painting, half finished, depicts ghostly white hands, with silvery strands dangling down and the outline of a face on a deep purple background. She pauses thoughtfully before painting over the face, blending it into the background completely and painting a smaller hand intertwined with one of the larger hands on the canvas. She hums the same tune all the while.

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DerkDerkistan
 
PostPosted: Mon, Nov 19 2012, 5:57 AM 

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A certain dusky-skinned elf seems to have vanished. She doesn't make any appearances lately.

In a rented room in Winya Ravana's Iron Butterfly, she sits at a desk, day in and day out. She writes, trying to figure out her role in this, trying to perfect it.

Emotions. These are the key. Hope, Loss, Faith, Despair, and so on...Tuomas wants to inflate their hope, sort of. There must be equal parts of each, however. I am to be the balance. For his end to work properly, the participants must be clear of conscience, pure of intent. They will need to abandon their despairs and such feelings. Those must still be present, however...

....one more burden I must shoulder.



((sorry for the delay, and the shitty post. Writer's block is killing me and I want to make this right))

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PhantomDream
 
PostPosted: Sun, Nov 25 2012, 5:52 AM 

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"He is a child. His intentions are pure. He is a child. His intentions are pure."


A young redhead would sit at her vanity, clearing her eyes of any cosmetics. Her face seems fragile as she looks into the mirror in front of her, frowning. She'd had to repeat the words to herself over and over again, even after her conversations with Alanna and Cilessa both. She'd been told he was a malevolent spirit, tormented and set on revenge against those who killed him. She'd been told he was a mad wizard, intent on stealing Cilessa and Aylomen's soul, and then leaving without another trace. She'd been told many other things, rumors, some conclusions she'd even came up with on her own. Her silence was biding her time in thought, until the day Anthony showed himself again.

He was in the market hall in Cordor, attracting attention like a fly. They thought the boy filled with wit and tricks, and he played in with their games somewhat. His attention to her was detailed though, and if she didn't welcome it she didn't show it. Instead, she embraced the time semi-alone with him, away from Alanna and Cilessa to feed her mind with thoughts on him. She allowed him to show her a side of him that wasn't evil. He acted like a little boy would when gifted with a shinning gold bauble, appraising it and accepting it graciously. He acted like a little boy would when she placed a protective hand on his shoulder, keeping him back or away from harm when many individuals surrounded him like he was a front-line show in the circus.

It was subconsciously how she felt when she looked at him, to protect him. He asked her if she hated him, and she replied honestly. She didn't understand him, but that didn't mean she hated him. She hated herself for not knowing what to do. He asked if he was being good, and she smiled and replied yes, because the truth was he was being good. His attention was stable, and he had not had an attack of shadows or anything else peculiar that seems to come in the wake of his arrivals. Instead, hee said to her he'd leave if he did have any attacks. He was being protective of the people around them, something she'd not expected him to say, or an act she expected him to do willingly. Their conversation was mild after that. It was hard to speak to him against the surge of the population growing around him, but that gave Kaytie time to think.

He didn't know love or compassion. He didn't know what know what kindness was, because he'd never been shown it. He was in that crowd, for just that short period of time, with people treating him like he was an adventure waiting to happen; he didn't need that. All he needs is someone to take his hand, talk to him kindly, and allow him a place to talk. He needs a person to understand him, allow him to show them a side of him they didn't all see, a way to break the barriers. He had that with the woman he approached, leaving Kaytie to speak with Lilia, Mengala, Kae, and Andrew.

She was a woman he had taken time to grown accustom to. A woman he'd put in visible and scarring pain, purposely, to figure out a ritual so they could destroy it. Cilessa welcomed him with open arms, even through all of that.

Kaytie understood he was not the greatest of things, but her hope and faith raised a little watching the little boy go to the woman he'd grown to love. She didn't think Anthony or Cilessa both knew they loved each other, but as she watched the child's hand twine with hers and a soft smile shared between the two...she knew.

Only a Sunite could spot love like that, especially one who'd long lost the person she loved like that many years ago.

It was a love only built for a mother.


 
      
gorgometh
 
PostPosted: Sat, Dec 22 2012, 1:34 AM 

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The crying of one small boy echoed across the isle of Amia this night. A child crying out in pain for someone to "help" as the entirety of the isle shook. Word spreads of a battle that took place in the Amian Frontier between a large group of adventurers and creatures and spirits made of shadow..

Something is losing control.


 
      
DerkDerkistan
 
PostPosted: Sat, Dec 22 2012, 5:05 AM 

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The lone candle in the room flickered briefly and died, its wax pooled on the corner of the table. The woman did not even seem to notice. Instead, her attention was fixed on the city outside the upstairs window of the Iron Butterfly. She watched a young couple chasing each other through the trees, hugging and kissing each other when they were caught. Eventually, the couple disappeared into the woods and the woman was left alone with her thoughts.

She turned from the window and paced the room, shaken by the sudden turn of her thoughts. She felt nothing from the couple, not even a little of their lust, which was typically the easiest emotion to sense. Despair briefly washed over her before she made a conscious effort to shrug it off. Whatever she was becoming, she could not dwell on it now. She had pressing matters to attend to.

Anthony visited often still, but he was speaking less and less. Most days, he just sat on her bed and watched her work. She had been making progress. It struck her as ironic that the more detached she became from the emotions of her People, the more she began to understand how to manipulate these emotions. She wondered if it was that very detachment that allowed for a broader sense of how to tap into these feelings in others, to pry them away.

Asmorid, her mephit familiar, had agreed to be her test subject, though not without protest. To date, she had managed to manipulate his hope and temper his excitement. She had also managed to dull his pain and fear slightly. The fact that it was easier to remove positive emotions than negative ones was something she was very aware of, and deeply troubled by.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sound that caused her physical pain. She quickly penned a note and hurried out of the inn, stopping only to hand the note to a courier to have it delivered.

Tuomas,

We need to talk.

Cilessa

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Grymia
 
PostPosted: Sat, Dec 22 2012, 6:39 AM 

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]When and where?

Tuomas
Would be the reply recieved by Cilessa.


 
      
AzureLuna
 
PostPosted: Sat, Dec 22 2012, 18:32 PM 

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Anthony... encounter in Cordor...
I hope he is not lost...
He seems ill....
...The consensus seems to be ... "losing control".

...That is very troublesome ... could summon him...
... he might hear you, anywhere there is darkness or shadows.
I shall have to try... and very soon. At the very least, say my goodbyes.

Fragments of whispered conversations replay in the young artists' mind as she paces the cob-webbed halls of the tower. Back and forth, with no destination and no answers.

Worry, she realizes. That's the name for this thing she is wrestling with. Pity and sympathy.

She knew, she always knew it would come to this.. She holds out hope that all he said was truth... That it is only a matter of time. None of these thoughts seem to grant her any form of peace.

'Can you miss something that isn't yet gone?'

She dons a heavy cloak and heads out of the tower into the thick fog, candle in hand. She goes to where the shadows resist and smother the light of her candles feeble glow.

She closes her eyes... and waits.

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gorgometh
 
PostPosted: Tue, Jan 08 2013, 4:25 AM 

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Chaos erupted in the streets of Cordor early this night. A child's head-splitting scream was heard around the island, followed by a mild earthquake. It ended with a gaping void opening in the streets of the Eastern District. Shadowy monsters and hungered creatures leaking out into the streets to strike at any living person or adventurer.

It ended as the hole was sealed by a child, a child that soon faded into shadow once more.


 
      
gorgometh
 
PostPosted: Wed, Jan 16 2013, 16:39 PM 

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All areas abroad, beyond the main island of Amia, experienced a strange quake last night. It began as a tremor, growing and escalating in violence until the quaking ground was accompanied by a voice carried on the winds, the blood-curtling screams of a child in agony.

As if some giant were ripping the prime apart, the quaking reached a crescendo and a palpable pillar of darkness exploded from the ground in the Brogendenstein wilderness, breaking the skyline and striking into the heavens. Another voice was soon after heard, almost felt more than heard, androgenous and soft...
"....My Chosen..."

The receding pillar of shadow and the sheer magnitude of the quake was enough to send a band of orcs from the gathered horde scattering for their lives only to fall by the blades, arrows and spells of the assembled Dwarven Defenders and their Allies. A small army of shadows and monsters soon showed themselves, lending credence to the fears of the orcs, but after a bloodied battle even the shadows receded in the face of these victorious defenders.

No child was ever seen, no "Chosen," but some sort of presence was felt by all, even in the soon passing but unnatural cold that settled in over the frozen lands...


 
      
serbiris
 
PostPosted: Wed, Jan 16 2013, 19:36 PM 

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Joined: 14 Sep 2010
Location: Sydney, Australia

Upon a ship dangerously rocked by waves, one cowled figure observed the great pillar of darkness erupt from the distant snowy island. Lips curled into an ecstatic smile, and a few words were whispered...

"Seems I have come to the right place."


 
      
Xaviera
 
PostPosted: Thu, Jan 17 2013, 3:14 AM 

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Joined: 07 Aug 2006
Location: Temple of Love

In the wake of the occurrences, Xaviera, Cordor's Minister of Health and Public Welfare, immediately seeks out Elijah Cromwell, the Minister of Labour, to organize a corps of inspectors to quickly survey the city's streets, wharves, sewers and buildings for damage and structural soundness. Citizens and business owners are asked to contact either ministry to report large cracks or split beams in their residences or shops and their addresses are placed on a list for more detailed inspections. A group of clerics and mages survey the area from whence the shadowy creatures issued to ensure that the rift has indeed closed.

_________________
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~Sharess on AmiaWiki~
Priestess, politician, prostitute
"[They] were moving in on me like Sharessans on a new broad in the bath house" - Tracer Bolt
AmiaWiki mod (mostly inactive)


 
      
ChickenChaser63
 
PostPosted: Sun, Jan 20 2013, 7:14 AM 

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Joined: 11 Feb 2010

::After a curtain event that occured, Vindel would find himself being dragged to the Temple of Love with the helpful assistance from a curtain Kobold many know as Kurchin. Gritting his teeth through each step. He would rest for a time inside the church, using what medical methods he knew to close the bleeding wound from his leg; that seemed broken in several place. Not too long he was assisted back up by the concerned creature, using what strength he had. He walked into Cordor; his tunic ripped in spotted areas from the barrade of magics. He found himself outside the door, and after a knock a familiar face answered. Andrew Fryar. Vindel would give him a smile and a appreciative before Saying::

"So you've been handling a Shadow Weave problem then?" ::With a weak chuckle::

::After getting appropriate medical attention, and a warm meal, he rested his head on there couch and dreamt of home::

_________________
Christopher Von Gradwitz- Weapons Master
Vindel Rastana- Spellsword


 
      
AzureLuna
 
PostPosted: Sun, Jan 20 2013, 7:36 AM 

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Joined: 26 Jul 2010
Location: Oregon, US

Powerless... The dirgesinger clung to the deepest shadows, crying silently as she witness the tragedy unfolding before her eyes, unable to lift a blade against the mere likeness to Anthony.

After the ordeal, she rushes to the only place light has never touched, and she calls to the child through the shadows. The fragments of the murmured conversation still races through her mind.


"I think I am lost..."
"I'm scared that may destroy you..."
"Help them... share with them your greatest fear..."
"I just wish there was another way... that I could teach you to control.."

She mulls it over, pacing the tower, wrestling with her own thoughts. She wished to preserve him... but how.. how can you look a child in the face... and deny them when they ask for your aid?

She sinks under the surface, finding no answer...

_________________
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Elvawen
 
PostPosted: Sun, Jan 20 2013, 8:01 AM 

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Joined: 29 Sep 2009
Location: USA

A woman dressed in dark leather took to the shadows in the fairgrounds after the sight of the mighty column that rose to the sky and blacked out the sun in Cordorian skies. She was unable to fight against the darkness that assaulted those adventurers gathered, but was equally unable to tear her eyes away from the sheer display of might from one child.

It was terrifying.

And it was impressive.

To see one being summon the volume of magic that had been wreaked across the grounds and tear asunder those gathered was a sight to see. And she was glad she had not missed it.


 
      
treant13
 
PostPosted: Sun, Jan 20 2013, 8:09 AM 

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Joined: 24 Oct 2012

A brightly colored man with purple hair could only watch in horror as small shadows fought with magic mightier then he has ever seen. He would dream horrible dreams that night.

_________________
Lance battle shifter of Red Knight
Lyle Underburrow...I would watch where you step when he's around, you might go boom


 
      
gorgometh
 
PostPosted: Sun, Jan 20 2013, 23:33 PM 

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Joined: 07 Oct 2008
Location: Southeast (USA)

Across the isle of Amia, there is a tangible presence of fear. This most recent display of one child's immense power has sent a shock wave of anxiety throughout not only some adventurers, but the common denizens of Amia. Wherever they gather, in pubs or before their hearths and fires, they speak of rumored sightings soon after the events that transpired in Cordor's fesitval grounds...

"I swear to you Malcolm, I overheard some snotty adventurers talking about this shadow kid what's wreaking havoc on the island...Not even a day past and on the road to the Dale, I saw this little kid sitting on a hill...had bandages wrapped around his eyes, dirty clothes..I tell you, he looked like some sort of orphan, but then his eyes...he looked right at me as I passed with my cart and that's when I saw him...he had blood stains on his bandages, and it looked like he'd been crying blood.. It was literally dripping down his cheek! Spooked the hells out of me..."

"You've got to be careful nowadays, Bill, between raiders and wizardly brats, us decent folk can't be safe!"

These sightings seem to persist with more and variously noted sightings of an aimlessly wandering child on the isle roads or the streets of cities around Amia. He looks more gaunt to those who have heard of him in passing tales and the blood stained bandages and tears are even more unsettling in person and do not seem to fade.

Witnesses tell of creatures in the wilds who have been literally torn apart by what could only be described as "gruesome" means. Craters from high levels spells and pieces of earth lie strewn about. Amian nights seem to grow darker and colder these days, and to those who listen closely or have an ear for such things, the wind carries the tune of a child's lullaby given morbid lyric and sorrowful tone...


"...Come my people, come with me
Safe and happy you will be
Away from your homes, now let us run
With us, you'll have so much fun
Oh, little children, please don't cry
I wouldn't even hurt a fly
Be free, be free be free to play
Come down in the dark with me to stay

Oh, trusting people, you mustn't leave
Your families for you will grieve
Their minds will unravel at the seams
Allowing me to haunt their dreams

We all have our end, a time to go
But surely, all of you must know
Oh, little heroes, you weren't clever
Now you shall stay with me forever.."



 
      
serbiris
 
PostPosted: Tue, Jan 29 2013, 19:34 PM 

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Joined: 14 Sep 2010
Location: Sydney, Australia

A day that had begun poorly slowly descended into intolerable levels.

By its conclusion, one angry, somewhat short and slight male humanoid stormed through the rift leading into the Shadow Plane. He traveled directly to the Temple, by which point he was able to master his demeanor to some extent. Forcing a calm upon himself, he entered the building and quickly approached one of the high-ranking clergy, who did not seem to be particularly engaged in one matter or other.

"So this kid," he began in a conversational whisper, pausing to offer a vague explanation of the child's appearances on the island of Amia. "Pretty sure he's not one of yours - seems more a servant of the Nightsinger. So if that's the case, I daresay we might have an enemy in common." Another pause, perhaps hesitant...

"Don't suppose we can work something out to deal with it?"


 
      
DolphinRacer
 
PostPosted: Tue, Feb 05 2013, 4:54 AM 

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Joined: 01 May 2009
Location: GMT-8 Bangor, Washington

Another battle North of Cordor, thankfully shorter than the last two, and yet more questions unanswered, even though one woman kept insisting she knew them all but kept refusing to share them. Taelar, disgusted at being told off for risking his life and limb to defend those around him from the Darkness, returns to Wiltun.

The boy is more of an adult than any of them, and I'm getting really tired of playing this game.

_________________
Sir Taelar Ardelyn of Wiltun
Winner of the Razor Tongued Award 2015!


Kira "Penny" Sigers
Better than Boulderdash!


 
      
DerkDerkistan
 
PostPosted: Thu, Feb 07 2013, 8:19 AM 

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Joined: 18 Jan 2009
Location: Earth

"Alone..."

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Remember when I knew a boxer, baby


 
      
Bobo_Underhill
 
PostPosted: Sat, Feb 09 2013, 21:49 PM 

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Joined: 21 Jul 2007
Location: The Drone Star State

Andrew lowered himself before before the piano of the darkened theater as he had many times before. He was ready to mourn or vent or something to deal with the negativity and darkness that rested in his heart after facing the abyss. But, as he placed his fingers on the keys, he discovered there was no such muse. Instead, it was something different he played. His eyes closed, he let his heart guide his fingers on the keys. It was rough, but what came out started low and foreboding, then rose to a sentimental and sweet conclusion. He sat back from the piano, cupping his chin as he watched the piano in thought.

Where there had been doubt, new resolve flourished.

_________________
Andrew Fryar: Cordor's Folk Hero
Bobrin: Eccentric Avenging Executioner
Lyle Torrowfire: Retired badass
Marigold Cobcruncher: Perceptive Priestess


 
      
PhantomDream
 
PostPosted: Sat, Feb 09 2013, 22:40 PM 

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Joined: 15 Jan 2012
Location: East Coast, USA

"Save me! My baby! Save me!"
"Mommy, help me!"


Thirteen bodies lay dead on the floor, not moving. A small girl, in the hurdle, lays on top of all of them, covered in blood. Her body twitching as the last breath is drawn in. The screams of a just born child fill the empty room from afar, but they are quickly silenced as the baby takes it's last breath. The woman who screamed in laboring pains is also silenced, her pleading cries to help her child ending. The woman donned in red falls to her knees, cupping her head in her hands. The tears pooling from her eyes are breaking her enough to make her shake. "I'm so sorry..." the voice of Anthony says. "I'm so sorry..." "I'm so sorry..." It begins to repeat, over and over again. "Wake up, Kaytie." comes a voice, gentle; serene. "Mommy?" She cried, holding a hand out to the darkness. "She's right beside you, baby. Wake up." The voice soothed again. Kaytie bent down, holding her knees to her chest, choking back sobs. "They killed her." She said again, shaking her head. "She's dead. It's my fault..."

A soft lullaby rises over her words, the darkness filling with a voice of warmth. It's a child's voice, but it feels possessive, and the love in the words is heard. It pulls her eyes open, and she searches desperately in the darkness.

~Sleep my baby on my bosom
Warm and cozy will it prove
Round thee mother’s arms are folding
In her heart a mother’s love~


She searches in the darkness for the voice. "...Cellie..?"

~There shall no one come to harm thee
Naught shall ever break thy rest
Sleep my darling babe in quiet
Sleep on mother’s gentle breast.~


She stands, searching in the darnkess..."Baby, where are you?"

~Sleep serenely, baby, slumber
Lovely baby, gently sleep;
Tell me wherefore art thou smiling
Smiling sweetly in thy sleep?~


A sob echos from her, a hand clenching her robe over her heart. "Do not play with me!" She screams to the darkness.

~Does the goddess smile down from heaven
When thy happy smile they see?
Dost thou on them smile while slumb’ring
On my bosom peacefully.~


"Go to her, baby. Wake up." A motherly voice sounds. Kaytie stands silent, listening..

~Do not fear the sound of a breeze
Brushing leaves against the door.
Do not dread the murmuring seas,
Lonely waves washing the shore.~


The feeling of someone curling their fingers in her curls takes her over. Her eyes close in shock, and she allows herself the breeze of the affectionate touch.

~Sleep child mine, there's nothing here,
While in slumber at my breast,
Sune is smiling, have no fear,
Holy Goddess guard your rest.~


Her eyes open. The image of a five-year-old in worn pajamas startles her and she gasps. Cellie's bright green eyes stare into her own, tears pooling down her soft and gentle cheeks. "Mommy, you were having a nightmare." Cellie stated, her hands curled into Kaytie's hair. Kaytie looked around. She was home, safe and sound, tucked in bed, a hand curled around a pillow that still smelled of the lover she'd lost. "Mommy..." Cellie's voice dragged her from haunting, a slight choke to her small voice. "Oh, baby..." Kaytie exclaimed, pulling the girl into her, laying her down beside her. The girl tucked herself around Kay, snuggling her head into lay against Kaytie's bossom. Cellie choked on a few tears at the emotions. "I love you mommy. Are you okay?" Kaytie smiled, brushing a kiss to the girl's forehead.

"I'm okay now, baby. I'm okay now."


 
      
Mr. Hackums
 
PostPosted: Sun, Feb 10 2013, 3:44 AM 

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Joined: 22 May 2008

//Theme Music-- Listen while reading!

As Nevaeh rested in bed beside the Priest the night after her return from the incident on the Hills, the blind man remained awake and thoughtful. His eyes resisted rest and lingered, open and directed toward the stone ceiling of their sanctuary. Sleep had become harder for the man in the recent days, plagued with doubt. With pain. He was exhausted, but not my his efforts or toils, but by his helplessness.

"Anthony."

The priest called lightly to the shadows and waited. His lips twisted into pained expression as the only reply was the steady breathing of his lover beside him. How wrong was it to wish for him to come, just once more? Even to say goodbye?

Aylomen rolled onto his side, away from Nevaeh. His brows furrowed forward as he fought the rising emotions. I couldn't even say goodbye. The man's breath caught and he swallowed, sitting upright and facing the stone wall. His mouth hung slightly open as if stranded on the forefront of a word or sentence. His breathing slowed and he leaned forward, resting his weight on his knees. Aylomen's graying hair fell like a veil over his forehead and eyes.

Illusions. Even though Aylomen was not present on the Hills as they purged the shadows gripping the child's restless soul, he was not unaffected. He too suffered illusions. Illusions of his own worth, remnants and shadows of the friendships he betrayed through his own foolish fervor. In truth, it was his own fault that he had to wait for hours on end alone in the Keep as his love-- and numerous others-- fought with the darkness. But the knowledge gave the man no rest.

"She was like a mother to him." Nevaeh's words from before struck him again soundly, forcing his large hands to hold his face in fight against his quickly swelling eyes. Did they forget that I loved him as my son?

Aylomen knew better. He was not forgotten-- he was forgone.


 
      
Grymia
 
PostPosted: Sun, Feb 10 2013, 5:03 AM 

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Joined: 14 Dec 2004
Location: Kohlingen, and a Basement in Canada

Whilst sitting in his quarters within the Kohlingen Keep, Tuomas looked off to the stars, thinking to himself with a brief smile as he seemed to go over paperwork and various simpler duties befitting a member of Kohlingen's Order of Magi.

~.. It is good that all is well with this matter... I pray that my voice was heard and that Anthony is watched over by Helm, or Mister Lord Justicar Marinsbane... ~ Tuomas thought to himself as he continued, his duty more focused to the city and to his own commital to the Virtues.


 
      
gorgometh
 
PostPosted: Wed, Feb 13 2013, 18:54 PM 

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Joined: 07 Oct 2008
Location: Southeast (USA)

_______________________________

There are no more signs of the strange child with bandaged eyes. No longer any strange sightings along roads or in the streets of settlements around the isle. Small rumors of a band of individuals who gave of themselves and sacrificed so much to save one lost soul begin to circulate. It's not abundantly clear if these rumors are based in fact, but only those who were closely affected might truly know the whole story...

...but the days seem to be growing darker. Across the island appear strange anomolies...

Shadows that seem to move away from the individual that owns them. The shadows of buildings and signs cast themselves in stark contrast to where light's fall would dictate they be laid. Even in the dead of night, some report hearing the vengeful call of some being angered by the loss of what was not "theirs" to take...

All is not well with Amia and whatever ill effects this absent child had upon the island have yet to be fully uncovered.


 
      
rafaelmacgyver
 
PostPosted: Wed, Feb 13 2013, 22:34 PM 

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Joined: 12 Apr 2010
Location: Rio de Janeiro - Brazil

Hallvardr is glad that the kid's soul is free now.
Although the things he saw took its toll on him and he is still... disturbed......

_________________
Wilfire Strongfeet (Tight pants)
Adela Griffonheart (Poke)
Hallvardr Erikson (Sexy Boy)
Emilly MacMillan (Happy)

Image Image

Sprites by Raua!


 
      
NinjaClarinet
 
PostPosted: Thu, Jul 10 2014, 20:47 PM 



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Joined: 12 Jul 2010

In a quiet temple, far removed from civilization, a lone knight knelt before an altar. The small shrine was bathed in opalescent radiance, a radiant female form wrought from marble standing in the center. The glow stung the templar's eyes, eldritch violet light guttering and flickering from his squinted gaze as he looked up to the figure. Soon the ache in his temples grew too much to bear, and he bowed his head in submission to shield his eyes. Still kneeling before the strange shrine, hands folded over the one uplifted knee, the Shadovar began to slip into meditation and prayer. The shadows could not gain much foothold in this radiant place, but still he called to them for comfort. Grey and marbled shadows flicker across his armor of ebony and ivory, weak but present, lending an unearthly quality to the knight's countenance. His breathing slowed to a standstill, the barest wisps of violet flame licking from the ground to harmlessly brush the cloak pooled around him as he practiced the delicate art of blending light and shadow.

Quiet words were mumbled between his prayers and mantras...

"With new understanding comes new perspective, child. Will you grow with us, or be swept away?"


 
      
PhantomDream
 
PostPosted: Fri, Jul 11 2014, 0:31 AM 

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Joined: 15 Jan 2012
Location: East Coast, USA

It began with the voice, a small voice she’d known so long ago, calling out to her in a question. “You in pain?” It asked, thoughtfully; quizzically. A hesitant breath was took as she pulled away from the conversation, her mind confused. She asked out loud if her company had heard what she had, but Shyllia just looked on quizzically and concerned. A frown formed. She couldn’t imagine what the elven woman thought of her now. Thinking it was nothing, she continued forward. She was sleep-deprived the past few nights. It could be a hallucination, or just her mind playing tricks. A sigh escaped.

The tapestry that hung in the hallway had caught both her Shy’s attention. It was odd, but they both knew the figures stood for something—had significant meaning. They just didn’t know who they were. She thought nothing of it, at first, but as she moved—the eyes of the figures watched her stray from the left and to the right; most dominantly the child. His eyes were filled with pure distain. She, again, voiced her concerns out loud to Shyllia—who sympathetically agreed. A sigh escaped. Of course they’d think she was going crazy. It wasn’t until Raziel seen the purple-hued fog build in the storage room, and the doors began to open and shut on their own. It wasn’t until the darkness became more, and the doors locked them into separate rooms, where screams out outrage and battle began. It wasn’t until she watched Shyllia be hurt for using shadows, and hearing Raziel take his last scream as he died, that she knew she wasn't crazy.

-----

Coldly she turned on a friend, delusional of the idea that Tempus would bring her brother back. The gods had toyed enough with them. She was just doing what needed done, but the woman had even forgotten her own scrolls. Death was not pretty. Death was destruction, and losing Raziel was the final straw she did not think she could endure. As soon as a breath was taken, she removed her hands from pounding on his chest; her actions trying to awaken him as if he were asleep. He would live. She could breathe again.

-----

Is he back? Could he truly be back? She was there when she watched him die, his soul finally released from the hold it was bound to. She suffered torture, ironically torture that had all came true within the past year, just to watch the child find the light. If it wasn’t him, it was something take his shape and mold; his voice, which now lingered with them all.

“You in pain?”

Yes. Yes, she was in pain, but fear had found its way back again as well. She could not defeat this darkness the way she could before…and that fact alone is what terrified her the most.


 
      
Anatida
 
PostPosted: Fri, Jul 11 2014, 1:02 AM 

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Joined: 09 Sep 2011
Location: Texas Y'all

Iim had been working in the office for close to an hour, when quietly, the door closed by itself. She knew the others were moving around, and thought at first that one of them must have closed it without her realizing they were nearby. Still she took the few small steps across the room, and tried to open it again. It was locked…

She tried her key, and it refused to work. She could hear voices on the other side of the door. Calling loudly to Shyllia she received a response, and then heard a voice she didn’t know. Raziel’s own words were angry now, the sounds of battle began rather quickly. She kicked the door once in frustration, and then calmed herself regaining her senses. She pulled on the shadows of the room and used them to manipulate the lock. The backlash knocked her across the room and left her swaying; barely on her feet.

When it was finally over the door opened the same way it had closed, on its own. She stepped out into the hallway, and frowned as she saw Raziel lying, unbreathing. There was no other sign of what had transpired. Then she heard a faint, disembodied voice, even over Kaytie’s panicked wails at Raziel’s form. “Are you in pain?”

The dragonkin asked the air calmly, “Should I be?” There was no response.

After a moment she stepped closer to Raziel, her tone matter-of-fact. “Kaytie, calm down.” She knew the woman had been through a lot. Had she stopped to think about it, she might have had more empathy for the fear the priestess must be feeling. As it was, she was only focused on doing what had to be done. She drew a scroll from a case and read the words. She did have the decency to not voice her thoughts… “Either he will return, or he is beyond our reach… wailing will not change that.”

_________________
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Iim'mur'ss - Grandmaster Shadowdancer / Aaralyn - Diplomat / Oleander - Toxic Desert Flower


 
      
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