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  1. - Top - End - #481
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    The Weaver examined the thing which Dasque had been working on so intently. "This is...extrordinary, Dasque. In the Dream-time, I can create all manner of things. But this. This is indeed Prime. A very small amount, but it could be nothing else." The Weaver tenatively reached out a hand, but then stopped himself. "May I touch it?" Despite himself, The Weaver was fascinated by Dasque's construct. The existance of Prime was something The Weaver had often thought of himself, though he favored another name for it, one which he kept close to his heart. He could feel the raw potential calling out to him. It was like a dream without a dreamer-it could be anything and everything. It felt a bit like Jongo, actually. It scared The Weaver just a bit. That Dasque had discovered the means to pull Prime into the world, even an amount this small, meant that she possessed a power greater than Faden, greater than he, greater even than Jongo. Dasque could truly create now, anything she set her mind to. It would take time, but there was virtually no limit to her ability. If The Weaver understood correctly. Which, of course, there was no guarruntee of.

    Then it disappeared. The Weaver shook himself out of his thoughts. "No, no. What am I thinking. This is of little consequence right now. What I-what all three of us should be focusing on is you, Dasque. Whatever you intend to do with this, creating it must have drained you. I implore you, rest. You need to recover your strength. You have spent much in the past couple of days."
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  2. - Top - End - #482
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    "I did not sleep." Dasque stood up, and turned around to face her two brothers. "But thank you for asking... it's been too long since anyone has asked me." She turned around to muse at her own work. The rage and sorrow had left her, but she was still weary, even moreso now.

    "Sadly this is only a blueprint. It is the theory, not the true substance our Father yielded. I dare not tap into true Prime, the stuff that created us, the Disk, even the Puppeteer. My understanding of it is far too limited."

    Slowly the array she had made started to falter. As she spoke, she stopped concentrating as much as the winds that held it aloft. Suspended tears began to fall to the ground like rain drops.

    "Please, let us see Faden now. I will rest when that is finished."

  3. - Top - End - #483
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    Council

    The tent was not wide, and yet everyone who needed to be in it found room to sit, Shyreza settling down with her legs folded before her next to Gizhela, disciple of the Wolfslayer and the Maiden, and on the other side of her Saven, leaning against a couch as if afraid that he would collapse at any moment. Bright-haired Shelkenezana, daughter of cold Merya, sat beside Belek the Fey, whose face was a crisscross of scars and spirited tufts of hair, and whose eyes were bright and careless; Mezen Coppertooth sat next to Hefar, and beside them lounged Gamesha and his hounds, copper-bright Zafira and pierced, fur-patched Skullsplitter of the Wolf's Get; Adhul ever-cunning knelt beside the Wolf Lord, whose grin was bright as morning, and beside the Wolf Lord sat beast-rich Arcetan of the Scarlet Household.

    Hefar spread his hands wide, his face grim. "Children of the Goddess," he said, slowly, "We are all proud, are we not? Before the goddess came to us, we were all men of war. Our dreams brushed against the sky. And yet, we allow her to work on our behalf. She keeps our hunters and our beasts from harm in the day, serves our wives and our outcasts in the night. She runs from one end of the land to the other, constantly in flight. And yet, misfortunes still plague us. We have not stood for ourselves. My son tells us that the bright goddess, sister to our Maiden, calls us all her pets. How can we be more, how can we be her tribe in truth, when we have not yet followed her commands in all things?"

    "What commands?" asked Belek with a wave of his hand, his manner brusque. Shyreza did not like Belek; he was wild, too wild, a man of the hunt and of the road. But there were enough of his ilk among the Fayheran that Hefar had brought him to their meeting.

    "Heal," Shyreza said, looking confidently at all assembled, aware of the eyes fixed on her. "Heal all things; she is not content with simple wounds, she looks beyond them. Heal the land who is our mother, heal the people who are sick and weary and have lost their love for those around them, let the blind see and the deaf hear and the lame walk and the heartless feel once more. These are the things she has told me, these are the things she has told us. Let the blacksmith make his sword, but only to slay the monstrous and the unclean; let the warrior know not only battle but love and kindness, and the honest toil of the day. This is what she has shown us, we who live among the rocks, between the mountains and the endless sands." Even Skullsplitter was quiet now, hanging on Shyreza's words breathlessly; Mezen was unnaturally still, his eyes filled with reverence above his brown mask. "She wishes for all men to be whole, yet for no man to be idle. She wishes for none to go hungry, none to be cast out without reason, but for each man to work for his household's bounty, and for households to be but families within one people, her Fayheran. And, above all, she wishes for us to live in peace among one another, to be united against the darkness but to show the light of dusk to those with eyes to see, and to be able to enjoy the highest arts, stories and music, dances and fine craftsmanship of all things."

    Every one of these things were Fayruz's word, cobbled together from all the time that Shyreza had known her, from every motion and every wistful sigh. The highest thing, the goddess had revealed to them, was to make things beautiful for their own sake, and to be able to have a purpose that would benefit others; was she not the example to show the people? She was the most graceful dancer of all the Fayheran, the sweetest singer and the most adroit harpist, and yet she chose to bring healing to the people, for that was the purpose she had chosen for herself.

    "One day, we will make the Olm a mirror of her home, and our streets will be lined with bright stones and godmade bronze. These are the words of Shyreza, her musician and counsel. We will keep our songs and our dances sacred for her, and they will be beautiful underneath heaven's eye. No man will raise his hand against another, and the monsters that plague us, and the evil spirits that incite men to worship them, will be driven past the north and the south and the east and the west by strong and noble hands. Like the lion-god will be our courageous warriors, and like the smith-god will be our clever craftsmen; none will go hungry, none will be plagued by sickness nor die in the throes of birth. And the broken walls about us will rise again!"

    "Beautiful words," Shelkenezana said with a wave of her gold-bright hand. "But how do you propose to make these things happen? All around us are monsters, witches and foul spirits; the master of the black sand continues to hunger for us all. And we still hunger, after all - I don't think I've eaten in three days!"

    "Moreover." Belek scratched at his chin. "Men are men. Weak. Cowardly. Fayruz Dragonslayer is here. Thieves still steal. Men forget teaching. Chieftains rise, enslave those beneath. Men defile her Tys."

    Hefar spoke before Shyreza could respond. "That is why we are here." He gestured to Shyreza, Saven and Gizhela. "Those who have been taught by the goddess directly are here to aid us, and those mighty among the Fayheran have come here to lead the tribe."

    "Lead us?" The Wolf Lord raised one pale brow, leaning forward. "Do we not follow the Maiden? Why should the people follow such as us? Are we appointed by her holy hand?"

    "I believe I know what we have to do, mighty chieftain," Shyreza said. "Saven and Hefar, they helped, but I believe that I know how to guide our people to become more than simply children tugging at her dress, begging for milk. First, the people need to know that there are those who are brave and wise, looking towards our future so that we might survive this famine. Hefar, you are beloved of the goddess, and you guarded the Aferi on the night of black sand; the Fayheran will trust your hand on our neck, guiding us. Adhul, you of all men are most cunning, and your guidance has kept the people of the Olm from going hungry completely. Shelkenzana, you are a bold heart and a discerning blade, the voice of fire beside water ever-shifting and air all-seeing; Wolf Lord, you are one redeemed by the love of the Maiden, and your strength rivals that of the one who is said to slay your kin. You are as careful as the rock of the mountain, and as hard to fool. But none of you know our land as well as the hunter who sought the white minotaur, Belek the Fey, touched by the hand of the spirits in days before our goddess. He is the voice of all those who do not camp as we do at the Olm, but wander ever-onwards, carrying words and goods between our camps."

    Now she pointed to Mezen, a smile on her lips. "You, mighty craftsman. The secrets of our trades must be woven into such carpets as all might read, so that we will not easily lose the knowledge of copper-smithing, or glass-shaping, or stone-carving. So, too, can we trade this knowledge with those we met - for the family of the goddess has proven to us that men beyond the barbarians of the wild exist."

    Mezen smiled in his own way, his copper tooth dull in his mouth. "Haramhold, may he be given ten thousand years of fine health, has already spoken with our most esteemed copper-smiths, and our most skillful glass-shapers, and our most careful stone-carvers. We could hang on his lips for ten years upon ten years, and still not know all that he, most generous of all men, knows. Rest assured that I shall speak with our great craftsmen, so that their secrets handed down from heaven to our unworthy ears do not die with them."

    Now Shyreza turned to Arcetan. "We can do nothing for our goddess if we all die of starvation. To the Scarlet Household, I give a greater burden than any of us: to find food, and bring it to the people. We need your skill, if we are all to survive this burning winter."

    Shyreza smiled to herself, then. The best was kept for last. "But... last night, I heard a song. It was like our goddess's voice, but... it was almost hers, but she did not speak like a child of the rocklands, even though I heard it in my mother's tongue. And in that song, I caught something which I want to share among my people. So, too, did Saven tell me that last night, he was visited by the Mother who lives in our river, who was darkened by the black sand just a day ago, and his brother through the mingling of blood told me that he saw, in his dreams, a bright maiden who was invincible in battle and had our Maiden's dark hair." Gamesha nodded mutely; Shyreza did not let slip any of what Gamesha had confided in her in the early hours of the morning, when sweat had been on his brow and his palms had run with his own blood. That dream had been a sign, but one that had caused Gamesha, the bearer of scars, more pain. But they had decided, there in the dark, to make good from darkness. "It is obvious, is it not? Our Maiden calls us to heal the body, heal the camp, heal the land."

    "Indeed, I do." Shyreza nearly jumped out of her skin, as the flap of the tent was pushed back, gently. "But not quite like that, Shyreza. You do not deserve to have that burden on your shoulders. No one deserves so much weight..." 'Except me', Shyreza could see written on the goddess's face, and it hurt.

    "Shyreza's plan was ruttin brilliant, Fayruz," Gamesha said, breaking his silence with a flood. "See, she knew that Saven and Gizhela were learning from you, and they could have their own students to help them, and people would know they could be healers like you, and she wanted to keep our songs and our memories with some few she knows, and us and mine all ruttin protecting the people who shouldn't have to fight."

    Fayruz's hand rested on Shyreza's shoulder, and squeezed gently. It was a gentle act, but it still sent a thrill through Shyreza, like receiving the kiss of a gazelle. "I think that's a wonderful idea," Fayruz said, softly, as if to herself. "We all need to know there are people we can trust. And, if I'm hurt by our enemies, if they come and take me away and do... do things to me... you need healers among you. Healers who know not only my songs, but also the herbs that sweet Merek has been teaching us, who know how to use the world's ways and the ways of the White City." She gently sat down, Gizhela obediently standing to make room for her - but then Fayruz moved closer to Shyreza, almost flush with the suddenly-hot maiden, and motioned for Gizhela to sit. "And there's another kind of healing - healing people's hearts. I... I still have much to do, so many of my own family to help, and who better to help open closed hearts and soothe broken hearts but musicians and dancers, historians and storytellers? If Saven knows the art of healing best, Shyreza, you yourself know this well, and so to you and your students I entrust it." She gestured up at Gamesha. "And, well, healers and artists, not to mention craftsmen and animal-herders, they need protection from warriors whose hearts are true and whose dedication is stronger than a griffin's grip. Gamesha, of all the warriors in the Olm, I trust you most of all, and I know that you would rather die than see harm come to anyone in this tent. Please, teach warriors in my name, teach them how to create as well as destroy, and what to fight for, and what not to fight for. This responsibility is something all three of you are ready for, have been waiting for, and so I give it to you. Saven, first among the Kindly Ones. Shyreza, first among the Artful Ones. Gamesha, first among the..." She hesitated, and Shyreza realized that Fayruz knew so little of war and battle, that even her tongue had hesitated and lost its power. But then Fayruz looked at the grinning Skullsplitter, and the grinning Zafira, and at the hopefully-smiling Gamesha, and she herself smiled. "The Smiling Ones. I trust this is all that the Council of the Fayheran requires? Please, if there is anything your servant can provide for you," And here, she looked down to the floor with all the demure grace of a serving-girl, as if she were not the Dragonslayer, the great healer of the Mother and the Olm! "Please, tell her. She is here to serve the Fayheran, and to guide them into making the right choices, not rule them."

    "But we still love her," Shyreza said, shyly, and the Wolf Lord howled assent, and Mezen nodded eagerly, and Hefar himself agreed with a cry of joy.

    "Now come," Fayruz said. "My brothers and sisters await me, and I would - if they would - have the people who took me in as their own with me as we speak of my family, so that you can learn just a bit more about us all."

    Spoiler
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    Three Minor Acts – Establish three mortal orders, the Kindly Ones, the Smiling Ones, and the Artful Ones.

    Ever since their inception, the Orders of Fayruz have been bound together. They all seek to protect mortals – not just the people of the rocklands, ever since the famous Sermon of Teti upon the subject, but all mortals. They all seek to bring cures to the woes of mankind, whatever they may be. And they all have their own identifying marks, making them obvious to suspicious men. In addition, the three Orders work together at a very intimate level – for every Kindly One to heal and bring guidance, there is a Smiling One to protect them, and for every Smiling One, there is an Artful One to guide their hand.

    The center of the Fayheran Orders – and not, it must be said, any offshoots that may have sprung up in foreign lands – is the Olm. It is here that apprentices to the three Orders are trained and taught the philosophy and practical teachings of the Orders, which together make up the closest thing that Fayruz Dragonslayer has to a church and clergy. From the Olm, companions are sent out, a Kindly One and a Smiling One and an Artful One, to walk the wild roads for a time and ply their trade wherever they go, until they return to the Olm to explain what they had done and seen in that time. The Orders, naturally, have a sympathetic connection with the Wanderers, and many a Wanderer has been saved by a Kindly One who happened to be traveling their way, or given an important story or message by an Artful One.

    These are the identifying marks of the Kindly Ones: they have been given training in not only the Blessed Art, but also rigorous education on herbcraft and natural medicine, and in haggling with lost spirits and sinful men alike. The Kindly Ones can not only cure a sickness or close a wound through their songs, but they can – and will – use a tea made from the petals of a desert rose that they carry, or loose bandages and thorns to sew up a wound. Their skill with herblore makes them popular in remote camps, where they often are happy to trade tea-leaves and herbal remedies to cure small ills for provisions, to sustain them on their journey. They wear the uniform of their goddess, the fool's robes and mask, whether they be men or women, as well as a belt festooned with herb-pouches and purses. This is their constant garment, and they are rarely seen out of it. Before being inducted into the Order fully, and being assigned a guardian and boon companion, a Kindly One must swear an oath of pacifism and dedication to his sacred trust, to bring both healing and guidance to mankind, on the Name of Fayruz. This has no supernatural compulsion behind it, but the fact that Fayruz often teaches a prospective Kindly One at least once in their apprenticeship makes them less likely to break the oath. An even more pressing concern is that there is one who will watch the Kindly One, and will not be pleased should they break it.

    These are the identifying marks of the Smiling Ones: they have been given training not only in hammercraft, the weapon with which their founder declared they would train with, but in brawling, knifecraft and slingcraft, so that they might never find themselves unable to defend their charge. They all wear warpaint to varying degrees, some painting smiles upon their faces in accordance with their name, and all tracing red lines across their faces to show their dedication to their order's founder; they leave their faces bare, whether men or women, as their founder did. They all carry hammers, and most a small assortment of other weapons. However, at the behest of their founder, the Smiling Ones know much more than merely the art of battle, though it is there that they are peerless among any in the rocklands. Their knives can be used not only as weapons but to work with skins and wood, and their slings are more often used for hunting than to crack open the skulls of their foe. And most famously of all, the Smiling Ones all know, to some extent, the art of the forge. Their great hammers are as much the blacksmith's tool as the warrior's weapon. The Smiling Ones, too, swear an oath on the Name of Fayruz, theirs to never let another harm their ward while they still draw breath, to defend the weak and the wounded with all of their strength, and to value peace above war.

    These are the identifying marks of the Artful Ones: they carry a harp, the sacred instrument of Fayruz, and know not only the ballads composed by such great musicians as Sonata, Fayruz and Shyreza, but also merry tunes and sad requiems, and the dances that lift men's hearts as well as the dances that entrance women's hearts. Their cunning is not only in those arts, but also in weaving, in storytelling, and in matchmaking. All wear a sash with all the colors of the phoenix woven into its pattern in pale imitation of her majesty, to set them apart as the historians and the lovers; all carry a glass blade and a curved bow, in honor of Shyreza, who saved the lives of her blood-brothers in battle with but her sword and her bow. All, too, wear their hair long, and while the women veil themselves, the men go about without masks; in this way, all three orders trespass against the clothing of normal men and women.

    The bonds between the three companions are often forged through fire; their travels together often teach them that their survival in the desert depends on how much they can trust their companions. Not all such companions are well-matched, however, but since Fayruz herself helps to choose them, clashes are few, and true tales of true camaraderie and romance between the healers, the warriors and the singers spring up in their wake. These stories have made offers to join the Orders very enticing and prestigious, although the invitations are rare and only extended to the extraordinary and the truly devoted. Becoming a Kindly One means giving up violence and one's own comfortable life to spend instead giving up their strength for others; becoming a Smiling One means giving up one's selfish concerns and instead spending one's life protecting another; becoming an Artful One means setting aside one's own story to pick up the thousand stories and secrets of one's people.

    All are blessed by Fayruz, the tribes say, and they understand: one shows love through compassion unveiled, one shows love through strength restrained, one shows love through cunning tempered.
    freedom in the flame

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    Raz, you scoundrel! You planned this!
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    Great, and now I'm imagining what Raz's profile on a dating site would look like. "Must be okay with veils."
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    I don't think there is such a time to have veils that it is not the fault of Raz_Fox.
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    It's a freaking Romulan dump truck. The Romulans are no more likely to build an unarmed warp-capable ship than they are to become a hippy commune.

  4. - Top - End - #484
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    A New Beginning, another End

    Faden had also not slept at all - in point of fact, he did not sleep, period. He regretted the loss of another tie to his siblings and the people of the disk, but he could at least get more done.

    He could, however, rest. He didn't feel completely like himself again, but he was getting better, and that was good. The rents and tears in his "body" were mended, and his eyes glowed brightly once more.

    He had wanted to spend the previous night practicing. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but he needed to find a way to apply the basic principles of magic toward combat more directly than he had before. But he had not had the time. He'd instead spent it rehearsing. Faden had considered multiple ways to phrase it, the best way to convince his siblings, and had finally settled on simply telling them what he thought. No tricks, no pranks, no illusions - there would be time enough for that later.

    As Dasque and the Weaver found their way to him, and as his other siblings gathered, he stood and moved so that everyone could see him.

    "I know everyone is tired, and hurting. I know that things have been said and done in the past day that will need a great deal more thought and resolution than they've been given, and I know that there is at least one large menace that threatens our continued existence. Normally I would let this matter rest until we were better prepared to pursue it, but if we are going to separate now, then this is the best time to bring it up." He waved, and before him a larger-than-life image of the now-crimson White City set against a clear sky over a bleak desert - the very image of the White City from the night and location that Faden arrived on the disk, an image burned into his memory permanently. "You know what this is. The White City, our home, was attacked by forces unknown some time ago, and since then there has been no contact from any of its usual inhabitants, including the spirits of haste that brought us here. No word from any of the First Spirits, or from Father himself has reached the disk to my knowledge. Yet there has been no trace of any more activity from the attacking forces either." Faden wisely didn't try to reproduce that image. Either he would fail and look silly, or succeed and have to look at it again.

    "You may wonder why I'm bringing this up. It's because sooner or later... we're going to have to go back." He held up his hand to forestall an argument. "I don't mean now, or tomorrow, or twenty years from now, even. But eventually whatever invaded the White City will be coming here, and if it does then it will be because it's ready. The only realistic chance we have to beat it is to somehow attack it in the White City and hope that it is still injured or tired from fighting Father. To that end, I'd like you all to start thinking, whenever you have the time, of how we might complete this."

    With another wave, a diagram not dissimilar to Dasque's Prime blueprints appeared in the air, although it did not shimmer or spin, being crafted of illusion rather than the purer substances of Dasque's creation. Next to the diagram, a wide image appeared, of a brilliant pillar of multicolored light stabbing into the sky from atop the very recognizable mountain range in the center of the Disk. "Returning from here to the White City without the aid of Father or any of the spirits will take more than all of us getting together and flapping our arms really hard, and I doubt an airship constructed of disk materials, no matter how well made, will be able to pass directly back into the realm of ideas, ideals, and possibilities that the White City represents. Such an effort will require a focused path of imagination made real, a... Rainbow Bridge, if you will, put together from each of our finest crafted efforts. I'm working on the solution for how the magical energies will have to be shaped, but there would have to be at least a dozen parts to it, all just as important as how the magic works. There would need to be an entire structure to contain this end of it, for one thing, plus a way to anchor the other end to the White City, a way to prevent whatever invaded the White City from using it to come here... just to name a few of the major problems in need of answers."

    He stops long enough to give the impression of taking a deep breath. "There are, I know, more pressing concerns right now, but I wanted you to keep the possibility in mind. If you see something interesting, if you have a spare moment, even if you just need a diversion... think about how we could complete and execute this design." His eyes flared. "That was all. If you have no questions, Dasque and I will be leaving soon."
    Last edited by Jade_Tarem; 2012-04-03 at 11:51 PM.
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  5. - Top - End - #485
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    Listening to Faden Haramhold says "That is a fine idea one which we should explore before you leave, but we have some more pressing matters to talk about." turning toward Kalandor the smith asks "You were in contact with the black sand more than any of us. Did you learn anything which could be used against this abomination?"
    Sometimes it is useful to know how large your zero is. ~Author Unknown

  6. - Top - End - #486
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    Frellon had not slept in the GreenMorningstar, instead, he had gone back there to collect his things. Carrying his possessions on his back, he traveled a short distance south along the river, just outside the Olm, and pitched his tent there.

    He slept deeply and well, recovering much from his exertions the day before. He arose long before dawn, as is typical of him, to perform exercises and prepare for the day. With these completed, he felt energized in a new way, the flow of his power thrumming pleasantly through his veins. Feeling reckless, he lifted a large rock, and crushed it with his hands, almost easily. He laughed, and began to string his bow for some target practice, as the sun was beginning to rise, and he would be able to see his targets, far away as they were.

    Quote Originally Posted by TheDarkDM View Post
    Beneath the stone tombs of the North, the First People beat the drums of war. Their Khar had not returned, and upon his iron throne the Overlord of the Titans plotted. Even as he gazed upon the great mosaic that laid the world at his feet, war parties moved south. Khar Melkhan had failed, but in he place would rise a thousand blooded warriors, their steel hungry for conquest and glory.

    With the dawn came the cries, the whispered prayers and desperate pleading of those that swore fealty to the new gods. Frellon awoke before the dawn, as his tribe was assailed by a force beyond their comprehension or their ken. Stout prayers for strength in battle soon collapsed into wails for mercy, and as the sun rose he was surrounded by a susurrus of prayers for deliverance.
    Frellon’s mind was assaulted by those of his people, he recognized some of them, as their desperate pleas ravaged his conscious. He had left them! Left them so that he could be here, at his family’s side! Their cries were unbearable, yet he refused to block them out of his mind. He had failed them, listening as their cries were cut short one by one was all he could do for them now. Still, Frellon attempted to communicate back, to promise them revenge for this, whomever it was, but he could not tell if they heard him.

    He resolved to himself: he must not stay here. His tribe needed him far more than Fayruz did; she had his other siblings here to guard her.

    He rose from his knees, he had fallen in his anguish, and packed up without enthusiasm. He arrived back to the others last, as they were rising from their respective slumber. He noticed with mild disinterest that Dasque was still here. He said nothing to her, she had either changed her mind, or someone else had talked her out of dishonoring Kalandor like that. It didn’t really matter which right now. Frellon needed a way home, FAST, thats all he wanted to think about.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Frellon eyed Faden’s illusions with interest. He wouldn’t know where to begin in its design, yet Faden’s words did spark a question of importance: If Frellon ever made it back up to the White City, how could he possibly make a difference against the monstrosity that could make Father afraid?

    Not that it really mattered, Frellon thought bitterly, How can I ever face that if I can’t manage to protect a single village?

    Frellon attempted to refocus his thoughts on the matter at hand, it was difficult, but the cries of his people had died down, too many had been cut short, yet he fancied that some may have escaped. Haramhold had asked a good question though, so he turned his head to look at Kalandor, waiting expectantly.

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    1 Major Act:
    Aquire the Ability: Divine Athletics
    Last edited by AntiMatter101; 2012-04-04 at 05:21 PM.
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  7. - Top - End - #487
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    Carolinus stared up at the Khar grimly, saying nothing at first as he slowly digested this new unhappy truth. When he spoke at last he appeared sterner then any other point in the short time Khar Melkhan had beheld him 'Then I charge you Khar, go back to your lord and carry to him these words. The First People are free to migrate as they will, but they will not be permitted to bring harm to the free peoples of the Disk. Tell him these words if you are loyal to your lord Khar Melkhan, for if he dares attack Markien I will beard him out in his own chamber with half dozen of my kinsmen, each equal to myself in power. When that time comes he will have a choice. If it is the wrong choice he will die by inches. Tell him these words and save your people from unneeded slaughter.' Carolinus moved to turn away, then paused. As if an afterthought he added 'You fought well Khar. You fought honourably, were I able I would once again salute you in the style of the White City.'

    Leaving his former foe he made for the Khar's camp. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and a hundred suddenly insistent hurts and pains grated against the euphoria of victory. The uneven ground transfigured quickly in his mind from battlefield advantage to irritating hindrance. 'Shieldbearer Kelmeris!' he watched to see the Titan's gaze flit from the Khar to himself 'Attend to your former master's wounds.'

    Carolinus watched with envious eyes as Kelmeris' long legs had him at the Khar's side before Carolinus had even made the clearing. The fatigue hit almost as soon as he sat down by the fire. His head swum as he carved off a large slice of meat with a shimmer black blade. He thought about how much that would have annoyed the Bastard and smiled tiredly.

    As he chewed his breakfast, watching the relationship between Shieldbearer and Khar, the women crowded around him. 'It is as I said, you are free.' his tired smile became brighter as he watched their reactions, the sheer waves of ecstasy woke him up and filled him with joy 'Take as much of the Khar's treasure as you can reasonably carry in reparation for what he has done to you. Should you will it I will see you safely to Markien and there ensure your full protection. I mean to leave soon, so go about making to leave if you have the will.'

    The women scattered, Carolinus continued to watch Kelmeris and Melkhan in silence other than the crackle of the fire and the sound of chewing. Even when the women returned laden with gold, silver and food (Far too little in the latter in Carolinus' estimation. He judged them harshly, but silently) he said nothing.

    His silence was only broken when Kelmeris, supporting the weight of Melkhan, returned to the clearing. 'Shieldbearer you are now my servant, but I have little will to keep any man hostage against his greater desires. I can see you would prefer to continue to serve the Khar and bear neither of you any malice.
    'However you owe reparation to the womenfolk, so you will return with me to Markien and give two years of service to the people there, you may then return to serve your Khar.'
    Last edited by Ladorak; 2012-04-06 at 08:20 AM.
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    The Human Spirit by kpenguin. The Raynnverse lives!

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    Sentient #6 Avatar by kpenguin. Clearly the best picture of a M&M character named after a Nevermore song there has ever been.

  8. - Top - End - #488
    Firbolg in the Playground
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    Quote Originally Posted by shorewood View Post
    Listening to Faden Haramhold says "That is a fine idea one which we should explore before you leave, but we have some more pressing matters to talk about." turning toward Kalandor the smith asks "You were in contact with the black sand more than any of us. Did you learn anything which could be used against this abomination?"
    Kalandor stands straight from where he was leaning against the tent's wall. Dispite a darker than normal tann he has donned, everyone can see he is pale underneth.
    "Not as much as anyone here would like."
    A Poor Tale

    Kalandor shook his head, facing downwards. When he looks up he speaks with a small frown framing his words.
    "It is a being from the white city, or atleast knows runes from our home, and has a platau to the south, which seemed to be where it lived. The 'Black Sand' it can create can grant it controll over lesser creatures, and can allow it to exhert it's will on you. However, at a much lesser state than when it has a chance to make physical contact, but all I know of it's form is that it's clawed. It is possibly using a ritual to establish a more compleate dominion, or it just drips acid.
    These last word's seem to sound a little like they are dark humor. However, Kalandor's face is completely serious. But then again, he was rather close to Rose, and at times he can be just as inscrutible as her. Atleast to the gaze of his other siblings...

    However for the sand to grant dominion you need to ingest some of the sand, which shouldn't be much of a problem for most of us here."
    Kalandor waits a moment, letting the words sink in. A lesson that walks alongside dont eat yellow snow, yet stands apart, for the danger the lesson talks of.

    "The thing is extreamly endurent, and can chanel it's power through any it has dominated, making them much tougher and stronger than normal, at the cost of their normal agility. You all saw that with me, but know that even a mortal only aflicted by the black sand can be as strong as any one of us. I am physically more potent than a majority of those here, and can push that should I need to, and even then a mortal had enough strength to put mine to a standstill, as Fayruz can confirm.
    He says this with absolutely no pride, and just the slightest hint of fear. His gaze for a moment locks on Fayruz, before he returns to speak.

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    "These infected mortals must be slain with a severed head, just like a old tail about zombies. Unfortunately like said tales, those aflicted, god and mortal alike may retain their facalties for a long time, when I chased the black sand back I was in full controll of my faculties the entire way there, a little agressive, yes, but he only used it to controll instead of influence when I was at his doorstep.

    Kalandor looks down a moment, as if to think, sighing he looks up.

    "He influenced my by my love for my family, and my desire for retribution. I did not plan to charge in alone, the only lapse I could see was removing a single 'ghouls' head by eating it instead of trying to rip it off with horns, or use my agility to unballence it and then finishing it. These last words he directs entirely at Dasque, starring at her. Only when he says 'removing a single 'ghouls' head by eating it' does he look from her.
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  9. - Top - End - #489
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
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    So, the thing is dangerous physically, is a talented manipulator and has claws... Frellon thought hard, but could think of no advantage to be gleaned from the information. One would have to simply be on guard for its tricks and not allow it to gain even the smallest of purchases on one's mind.

    The straight-forward approach; Frellon knew better than to think that was a good idea.

    Frellon waited for a drawn out second or two, and spoke his own peice, the words dropping from his mouth like stones, even and sad.
    "If I may redirect your attention, I regret to inform you all that I must depart. I have-" He choked on the words, but found fresh resolve and pushed on. "I have heard the deaths of my people, carried by their desperation from the other end of the disk. I must go to what is left of them, both to avenge them and to help them rebuild, should any have survived. I wish it were not so, for I would stay here and help if things were different, but I have been away from them too long. I was wrong about them being ready." This last, he says to himself, more than anyone else.

    Frellon purpousfully turns to his brother. "Faden, can the roc carry three? Is the North-Western Continent very far out of your way?"
    Last edited by AntiMatter101; 2012-04-04 at 10:29 PM.
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  10. - Top - End - #490
    Ettin in the Playground
     
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    Faden suppresses a wince before realizing that he couldn't wince even if he wanted to. The fact was that the North-western continent was way out of his way, as he'd been planning on swinging southeast to find Avyra as soon as he had dropped Dasque off with Shirvan.

    Still, he wasn't going to leave Frellon's people to rot. "I think we could stop by there, but I can't stay."
    Amazing Zealot avatar by Elder Tsofu.

  11. - Top - End - #491
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    Taming of the Lightning Wolf

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    And Sonata left Aria Nel and the three Lequera dragon princesses to help govern and keep the order of Ecchr, and the people of Aria Nel, created with human, jewel and fox songs, and woven by Ar Maen, under the conductress Sonata, the Hymmnoi were established to sing of the dream of Sonata and the White City, and to keep the histories and songs alive and playing. And the Hymmnoi were divided into seven houses, Aria, Ciela, Elysia, Tenoi, Presia, Partih, and Sarla. But at this time it was Aria which under Aria Nel was the most valued, but peace prevailed in joined harmony.

    So it was that Sonata could be not worried by the events of this place, and with the gentle rains and glorious rainbows, the fertile and lush valley rejoiced in song as she left with Renard, chief of foxes.

    And for a time Sonata put on the fox robes, and ran as a fox with Renard, for foxes were quick, and could travel easily over difficult lands.

    And south of Gozan, the mountains began to disappear, and there were grasslands and forests, lakes and jungles. And here there were many tribes that had not been named or ordered. Of these villages, they often began to pray to the fox goddess, who traveled through and brought with her the rain. But they did not sing songs of [Ar Maen], or share the vision of Sonata at this time. At her request, Renard sent fox messengers to live among them and encourage their fox ways.

    Sonata could feel her brothers spark to the west, near to her. It was surely Llassar, but difficult to see. Sonata's memory was of her lazy and relaxed brother, a calm feeling. But now there was this, and more. Like a sunshine day and gentle, swaying plants. The smell of rich corn, and fiery golden sun smells on delicious skin. And Sonata rejoiced of this feeling, to scatter the smell of fresh food with the intoxicating smell of rain. She desired to see him, but her twin Fayruz was south, and many of her family seemed gathered there. Surely too, Llassar would go that way, or perhaps meet in another verse.

    The lands grew cloudy, and barren, and became canyon and dry sand. And this is where the fox princess became again a moon princess, and looked down into the great canyon. Overhead the black clouded sky cried out, and Sonata felt the loud voice's song make her hair dance in the wind. The wind loudly cried, and Renard, the chief of foxes struggled to stand.

    "Lady Sonata, this plan of yours
    is truly cunning!
    But the den of wolves,
    is no place
    for a fox!"

    He said to the wind and to the goddess.
    Sonata smiled and responded.

    "I do not think
    wolves and foxes
    and moon princesses
    are so different!
    I now can hear this song!
    The song of wolf, and
    the song of desire,
    the song of promise!
    Look!
    Can't the running gray wolf clouds
    be seen?
    Can your fox ears hear how
    the sky threatens and boasts,
    how the white moon was veiled
    and now it veils the red moon?
    I do not think even a wolf
    of lightning did not once bow fealty
    to my father!"

    And Renard laughed, but the thunder cried louder.The small silver words of the fox were difficult to hear.

    "My lady has the
    crown of the rainbow, taken from dragons,
    fealty of humans, fed of rain,
    loyalty of foxes, treated like family,
    will you wear the wolf coat now?"

    And Sonata laughed, but didn't answer her cunning fox's question. She began to climb down into the canyon, even though the wind pushed her this way and that way. She climbed down and sang a song of a gentle spring wind. And slowly the wind calmed itself for listening to her. And Sonata came to the center of the canyon, and looked up at the dark wolf clouds. And she sang a song to taunt the wolf to show itself.

    "I have heard
    there is a wolf, who boasts
    that he can walk the sky-paths freely!

    I have heard
    there is a wolf, who boasts
    that he is faster than any in the world!

    I have heard
    there is a wolf, who boasts
    that his fur is more prickly than any sword!

    I have heard
    about a certain wolf,
    but wondered if it was true!

    And the wolf cried and descended, the lightning bolt of blue and gold. And thunder echoed his cry the next stanza. And the wolf ran down form the cloud, to stand in front of Sonata.

    I am the wolf named Lightning!
    I have said many things
    and laughed many nights
    for there are none who can match me!

    Look! The Red Moon cannot shine!
    In this canyon, food dares to challenge me?
    To make slander is evil!
    It is said that beauty is evil too!
    From an evil mouth comes evil words!

    But Sonata came to meet the lightning wolf, and gentle song words came as she touched his nose. With a loving and calming song, Sonata sang.

    "It is said that there is a wolf
    who is proud and true to his word,
    but who can know the desires of a princess?
    And who can know the desires of a lightning wolf?
    Oh, Lightning Wolf!
    If beauty is evil,
    why are you so beautiful?
    If to say evil words means there is an evil mouth,
    why is your mouth so good?
    If to make slander is evil,
    surely it means to make praise is good?
    If it is true, then are not my words just and honorable?

    And the Lightning Wolf made a noise of confusion, that howled like lightning. And he rolled about on the ground with sparking and sparkling, and deeply thought of these questions.
    But Sonata with her smile came to him.

    Oh, Lightning Wolf!
    truly you are a magnificent lord,
    to see your domain has inspired me.
    But with truth, I will tell you my desire,
    if you will tell me yours!
    I desire you,
    Oh, Lightning Wolf!
    Together we will be swift and beautiful!
    Together we will sing songs of sky,
    with rainbow and lightning!
    Together we will run,
    in wolf storm clouds and canyons,
    and in valleys and deserts!
    I can show you the world,
    Dearest Lightning Wolf!
    If you do not trust of me,
    then let us race around this canyon,
    and I will show you how swift I am!

    And the Lightning Wolf howled in laughter, for he was inspired by the words.
    And greedily he ate this song of praise. And as he danced to this song, he did not see Sonata tie the sash of the rainbow she wore around his neck with gentle caress.

    Let us race!
    If I win, then you will sing for me forever,
    those words of praise of my glory!
    No child of disk or moon
    is faster than me!

    And Sonata agreed with a smile and laugh like the rain and chime.

    It is agreed!
    If I win, then you will run for me forever,
    and I will ride you in praise of my story!
    It will be remembered by every child,
    that Sonata tamed the Lightning Wolf!

    And so it began, with the thunder's cry, that the Lightning Wolf began to run. It was 80 times around the canyon, faster and faster, until he leaped into the sky here and there, howling as he went.
    The greed and excitement of the Lightning Wolf blinded him, as Sonata held onto the rainbow sash around the wolf!

    And Renard watched and cried his laughter and sang a small song that all foxes and children of Ecchr remember.

    Be careful that
    if riding your wolf greed, to not become blind!
    Because if your greed blinds you as the wolf,
    then you will be ridden by it!

    To the end of the canyon, to the finish line, the Lightning Wolf danced. And from his back, Sonata held her laughter and joy, until the end. There, she reached her hand forward to pass the nose of the wolf, and so to finish first!
    And she jumped down and let out a song to the sky.

    "Oh, thunder and black clouds, friends of the lightning wolf!
    Oh, Renard, the hidden fox chief!
    Oh, trees and rocks of the canyon!
    It can be seen who finishes first! And it can be seen who wears the harness of a rainbow!"

    And the clouds and thunder cried in agreement with the trees and rocks, and Renard's silver voice. And the lightning wolf was embarrassed and shamed, and knelt before Sonata, as the rain began to fall to celebrate her victory.

    But Sonata hugged the sparking and sparkling lightning wolf and comforted him, and sang praise to his speed and beautiful blue and golden lightning coat.
    And so she won his loyalty and heart, and agreed to carry her proudly.

    And Renard came to Sonata laughing and said.

    Truly you have surpassed me!
    I will sing of this day forever!
    Even the skies and rocks listen to your songs!
    But a little fox voice is lost in the choir!

    And Sonata laughed and hugged Renard.

    "Don't think I will fall
    for all of these praising words !
    You know I made them!

    And Renard bowed as the lightning wolf laughed.

    "Truly my lady, there is nothing more I can teach you!" Sonata smiled and looked to the southwest, as she rested her hand on the lightning wolf's head.

    "I'm coming, Fayruz, dearest sister!" She whispered.

    Acts
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    1 Minor Act: Create a small number of servants of moderate power: Establish the 7 clans of the Hymmnoi (Aria, Ciela, Elysia, Tenoi, Presia, Partih, Sarla)

    1 Major Act: Create Exarch: Lightning Wolf (divine athletics)
    1 Major Act: Gain Ability: Reality Manipulation

    Kasanip's Sketchbook 2 Thread
    It is difficult to speak English, please excuse mistakes kindly m(_ _)m

  12. - Top - End - #492
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    Ladorak's Avatar

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    Warnings of War


    Within the Dawn Palace Elisa was sat in court. Upon her marble throne she listened to two men bicker. The throne was uncomfortable and cold, but this was something the Prophet was long accustomed to.

    The two men had recently formed Markien's two first Academies. Both were students of Kalli, once called the wisest of the tribes, but now fell out over a subject Elisa barely credited. Jem, twenty years younger than his peer and student of Kalli for a far shorter time, had placed the sigil of Carolinus above the gates of his school. Lothar vehemently disagreed with this, claiming it was a perversion of Kalli's teachings to place anything above knowledge. Elisa had soothed tensions between the two schools for years, but now things were coming to a head.

    Without warning a voice spoke within her head. She jumped visibly, though only Jem noticed, Lothar being far too enthralled in his own oratory. 'My Father's blessing unto you Elisa. I return to Markien soon, but there is no time to waste. A new and terrible power rises in the north, should they come at us in strength we cannot hold the Black Buttress. Have the Wardens remove the weapon caches there, but double the guard and have every man carry an extra quiver. This vulnerability is temporary, I swear it. When I return it shall be ended.
    'But this is not all that must be done. My brother's people are greatly threatened. I cannot hear their prayers but I cannot help but feel the waves of anguish travelling to Frellon. Send word that orcs approaching Markien are not to be harmed until questioned, I mean to give them sanctuary if they give word to keep the peace.'


    ************

    Once again a shimmering white shield bursts into life above Frellion. This time a shining star burnt upon the north western continent, it's lustre marked the route to Markien in delicate white trails. Once again the distorted voice of Carolinus issued forth. 'Father's blessing upon you my brothers. I wish I could grace you with thankful words and good intention, but such is not the nature of the world. A new power rises in the North brothers, and they are mighty. I fought their champion and when defeated he warned me of their coming.
    'Then call themselves the First People, also known as the Titans. They are as men, but wrought enormous and fierce. The one I fought stood thirty feet, his subordinate twenty five. I suggest you send all your people to Markien, it is the only hope we have of halting the oncoming tide.'
    Last edited by Ladorak; 2012-04-06 at 02:12 PM.
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    The Human Spirit by kpenguin. The Raynnverse lives!

    Vagrant and Seal by Smuchmuch. This depiction of Seal is so s'much like Smuchmuch

    Sentient #6 Avatar by kpenguin. Clearly the best picture of a M&M character named after a Nevermore song there has ever been.

  13. - Top - End - #493
    Ettin in the Playground
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    Fayruz was quiet as Faden explained his plan. Of course it would be Faden, bright and wise, who would have thought about getting back home. Why hadn't she? Surely, if she had put her strength to the test... well, she would have failed, but she would have at least tried. But that would have meant not helping the mortals of the rocklands, that would have meant letting mortals die and knowing that she could have saved them. That was a price too high.

    Did she even want to go home? The people here loved her, and she loved them; despite how tired she was, night after night, knowing that she was making a difference in so many lives meant more to her than the promise of going back home and seeing her father. Maybe, once she'd taught them how to heal themselves, and how to live in peace together without her, she could go back with them, but not yet. There was still too much to do.

    And then, so quickly, Faden was asking if they had any questions to ask him before he and Dasque left, as quickly as they had come. And Fayruz knew that there was one thing she wanted more than anything else.

    Fayruz stepped forward and embraced her brother, gently, to avoid accidentally crushing the empty robes that her brother had become. She simply held him close to her, and breathed in deeply, tasting the scent of dust and fire and magic lying heavy on her tongue. She would remember this. Then, she whispered, "Father would be proud of you."

    She looked up, then, at Frellon and Dasque, her war-ready siblings, and gave them a bright smile. "Come, come, siblings! Do you think you'll get away, after so long, without at least a sister's embrace?"
    freedom in the flame

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    Raz, you scoundrel! You planned this!
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    Great, and now I'm imagining what Raz's profile on a dating site would look like. "Must be okay with veils."
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    I don't think there is such a time to have veils that it is not the fault of Raz_Fox.
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  14. - Top - End - #494
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    Dasque features softened, and it was then that the calm, content, and caring Dasque they all knew had returned, if only for a short time. "Of course, Fayruz." She walked over to give his sister a big embrace. "You've grown so much."

  15. - Top - End - #495
    Ogre in the Playground
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    The Weaver stared at the illusions Faden conjured before them. They were impressive. But with them, something stirred inside The Weaver's mind. A strange pull, a desire to go, to wander, to find something of great import. Something which would be instrumental in the times ahead. The Weaver could literally feel his feet being pulled out from underneath him. It was unsettling, to say the least. But go he must. "You are, as ever, brilliant in your insight, my eldest brother. And I will be certain to keep your words in mind as I go about my travels. But it seems I too must leave. I must...I must..." The Weaver's eyes widened as a sudden thought entered his mind. It was troublesome. But it was right. There was only one place that could have what he needed to find. Or set him on the path to find it. He wasn't quite sure yet which. "I must go visit Avyra." With that, he gave Fayruz a quick hug, for he knew she would be disappointed if he didn't. And he left. One moment, he was there, clear as day, solid as the rocks of the desert lands. The next, he appeared ephmereal, as an illusion. The third, he was gone.

    As though he were a dream all along.

    The Weaver felt raw energy surge through him. Once more in the Dream-time, the world of dreams, his world, away from the darkness and disruption caused by the Puppeteer, The Weaver felt at home. He was ready to move forward, and accomplish great works. The Weaver knew that soon, events would force him to accept a new role, one that worked closely in the realm of war, of combat, that seemed to follow his siblings everywhere. But for now, he was content to walk his ever-changing landscape, and search for a door he knew would appear sooner or later.

    "There you are." Someone had dreamed of death. And, just as The Weaver had thought it would, a massive, iron door appeared in the Dream-time. It was just for a second, just long enough for The Weaver to brush his fingers against it. But it was long enough for him to be sure. Avrya existed in this reality. Perhaps not exactly alive, but not gone. Not destroyed. And The Weaver needed to see her.

    But how does one find the Protector of the Eternal Cycle in the Land of Endless Possibilities?

    The Weaver continued to walk. As he did so, he allowed his divine spark to grow, to bleed out of his form. Perhaps, his very soul shouting for his sister's company, in a land not far removed from the Paths she made safe, Avrya would hear, or sense, her brother. Then again, perhaps not. Perhaps the only way to reach the new Queen of the Dead was to die oneself...

    Perhaps that was what The Weaver needed to do.

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    1 Major Act: Increase Domain Rank. The Dream Domain is now at Rank 2.
    ATTENTION ANYONE WHO I'M PLAYING WITH:
    No news is good news.

  16. - Top - End - #496
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    Haramhold nods in acknowledgement at Kalandor's testimony. It wasn't the stunning insightful guide to how defeat the master of the black sands that he was hoping for. But it was a start.

    Waiting for a break in the conversation Haramhold turns to Faden asking "About your earlier suggestion. We do need to create a means of more reliable transport. Jongo, Frellon, Amanda and I could have easily been intercepted in our journey. Green MorningStar is an amazing ship that can reach any corner of the disc. But I fear we need a safer way to travel between a few select locations." Pausing to take a sip of cool clean river water Haramhold continues "You are right that we lack the strength to retake the white city but we will need a central hub to organize ourselves here on the disc. Between You, Kalandor and me, I think that we could create such a place "the hub" as it were. I can see it now, a realm interconnecting various parts of the disc through a series of magical gateways. I haven't figured out most of the details that alone would take us months to hammer out but we should certainly begin designing it."

    Haramhold was about to continue this line of thought until the memories of his peoples suffering echoed throughout his mind. I cannot allow myself to be distracted again. Must not loose myself in my work.

    "Unfourtunatly I doubt we will have time to dawdle here and work out the details. Before you leave Faden could arrange for some of your messenger sprites to carry messages between us after we have gone out separate ways. So that we may stay in touch until such time that we meet again."
    Sometimes it is useful to know how large your zero is. ~Author Unknown

  17. - Top - End - #497
    Firbolg in the Playground
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    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Kalandor nods. He had many things to think about. A 'Rainbow Bridge', a Transportation hub. The sort of things he could best think of when 'working', and he felt like he needed to be somewhere else. The tranquility of a simpler form was calling..... Calling.... Ahh, a solution for the communion problem. He had heard the Chil'R where without age, and many of his higher order priests where amoungst their kindred. Laying out a portal network... He needed to think.... And maybe map a little.

    "Yes, and perhaps a few other means of communion could be set inplace. Something tugs at my mind as for a communication network and a transportation network. I shall need to think of it some more, and it will be a good puzzle for my mind to unravel while I work. We must all travel home... Perhaps we could arrange a place for us all to meet in a few years or so. Mayhap the central continent, that way we would all be about as close..... It would also act as a good central point to set up a portal network."

    Kalandor nods, already he looks as if he is distracted in thought, almost as if half his mind decided to walk away to a quiet bench somewhere to work...
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    The professional, well-funded, well-backed, card-carrying, licensed murderhobos, yes.
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  18. - Top - End - #498
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    Frellon exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. “Even so, Faden, I am in your debt.” He would be able to go back. One less thing to worry about.

    Frellon’s nerves were shot, his heart ached and his mind was in turmoil, yet his dear sister Fayruz still managed to coax a smile from his lips. “How could I leave without saying goodbye?” he asked the air, as he returned her embrace. Straightening, he wondered if it would be too hasty of him to ask how soon they could leave-

    Quote Originally Posted by Ladorak View Post
    Once again a shimmering white shield bursts into life above Frellon. This time a shining star burnt upon the north western continent, it's lustre marked the route to Markien in delicate white trails. Once again the distorted voice of Carolinus issued forth.

    'Father's blessing upon you my brothers. I wish I could grace you with thankful words and good intention, but such is not the nature of the world. A new power rises in the North brothers, and they are mighty. I fought their champion and when defeated he warned me of their coming.
    'Then call themselves the First People, also known as the Titans. They are as men, but wrought enormous and fierce. The one I fought stood thirty feet, his subordinate twenty five. I suggest you send all your people to Markien, it is the only hope we have of halting the oncoming tide.'
    Frellon’s hand tightened on the hilt of his blade. “Titians?” He tasted each syllable, testing the word on his tongue. They were responsible? Then they would regret it. The ocean of Sorrow he had been drowning in ever since this morning retreated back down into his heart, only to be replaced with the cool fires of Fury. He still had no target, but now he had a name, they would find no refuge.

    Some part of his mind was examining the route Carolinus had proposed he take to Markein. Such a route would take time. Much more time than Frellon feared his people had.

    Frellon had stood lost in thought for several seconds. Now he shifted nervously, like a horse in a stable, desperate to be running free. He said nothing, but those who knew him would sense his urgency to be traveling already.
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  19. - Top - End - #499
    Barbarian in the Playground
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    Avyra

    In a clearing between a forest and a sea, there stood a house. It was not a very well-constructed house, being small and simple, but it was sturdy, for it was made from living wood by the hands of a goddess. Convincing trees to surrender their hearts to you for a place to live and work was no easy feat; the promise of resurrection, however, soothed the pain of dying. For all was alive, in this place. And all, someday, died.

    Of greater interest than the house itself was the curious stone archway that seemed to hold itself suspended under its own power, for there was no obvious support for it. It hung in the center of a larger ring of stones, and the area within it was scraped clean of life, bare dirt made smooth and level with hours of painstaking work. This was a sacred place, and it--unlike the house--had been crafted by hand and the sheer divine will of the goddess who had built it; if one had a second sight, one could see the tendrils of soul-power wound around the pillars of stone, woven throughout the carefully-smoothed dirt. If their eyes were especially keen, they would be able to trace the thin filaments back to their source, the goddess with eyes as deep and shifting grey as the skies of the lands she called her own. In the right light, the arch almost seems to shimmer; surely, it is a trick of the eyes.

    Surely.

    (2 Major Acts: Create Realm-The Quiet Lands
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    The portal outside Avyra's modest home is the only physical manifestation of an entrance/exit from The Quiet Lands. Though there are other doors within the lands themselves, other Entrances that lead to other Paths, this is the only one that is consistently located behind the goddess's house.

    The Quiet Lands are a convenient way to travel, as long as one is educated in the shifts of Paths; while it will not often bring you directly to your destination, due to its changing nature, it will often bring you close, and it can take less time to travel than simply traveling aboveground. Can is the operative word; without careful travel, a living person attempting to take the short road could become hopelessly lost. Luckily for those travelers, there are the Guides--description to follow. Still, The Quiet Lands are a vast place, and any who travel there should prepare themselves well.


    1 Minor Act: The Guides
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    A cadre of 10-15 souls gleaned from the dead, who voluntarily offer up a small chunk of service in the hopes of gaining a better Reincarnation. These souls work singly or in pairs, assisting others on their own Paths, working with the Guardian, and finding the occasional living lost traveler and setting them on their way. They cannot leave The Quiet Lands, and after a set period of time they are sent to their own Paths, to be replaced by other volunteers--often recruited by Anshar from repentant criminals or those who were victims.


    0 Major, 1 Minor, 2 Ceremonies remaining)

    The portal shimmers, and a wan woman steps through it, sinking down against the wall of her home. To the ends of the world she has gone, she feels...and still there is no trace! No trace of their Father, not even a hint of a spark calling to a spark. She calls a messenger to her, and sends it to Fayruz, before slipping inside to brew a calming drink and get some rest.

    Father, where are you...?

    To Fayruz:
    Spoiler
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    My dear sister:
    My search is yet unsuccessful. If our Father is dead--as I strongly suspect he is, due to the tidings I have heard in whispers of souls that have entered my Realm--he is either hidden or trapped. I will not give up hope; I will continue to search.

    I hope that you are well; I would like to see you soon. Perhaps you could come visit me? Or I could visit you, if you have the time. Let me know, post-haste.

    All my love,
    Avyra.

  20. - Top - End - #500
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    Olm, before departure

    Faden returns Fayruz's hug, saying only, "And prouder of you."

    As he turns away, he considers the "Nexus" idea. It had merit, but he had promises to keep and had already put off Pyra long enough. His sprites swarm around him for a moment, and he gives them some new, careful instructions - each to go with one of his siblings and follow their instructions. The orange one he instructed to go to where Jongo had last been seen and wait for him there, or seek him out should Jongo's spark reappear on the disk. The blue one, Tezzy, he kept by him.

    "Alright then, I think we're ready to go. I'll be outside with Pyra."
    Amazing Zealot avatar by Elder Tsofu.

  21. - Top - End - #501
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    Llassar looked around. He was in the middle of a vast rockland; brown as far as he could see. He shuffled in a small circle, pulling the brim of his hat above his eyes to shield his face from the sun, seeing if he could find any signs of plants.

    "Dust and rocks, rocks and dusts, a tiny cactus, a big hill with a flying ship over it, some sort of leafy-"

    Llassar stopped scanning and whipped his head back at the Olm. He blinked a few times, wondering if the apparent magic he just worked had just ruined his sanity. After a few minutes, he decided what he was seeing was probably real. As he continued to stare at the ship, he realized it hung over an entire city of tents. Since this was the only great and arresting sight, as well as the only apparent dwelling place of people as far as he could see, he began to walk towards the great hill.

    After a short while, Llassar found himself in the center of a small Fayhedran camp. He had absentmindedly walked right into the center of it, and was being regarded somewhat suspiciously with stares from the people. Llassar looked around, embarrassed at his lapse of vigilance, and took a nervous step back from them. He may have made a retreat, if at that point he hadn't noticed how very thin the people looking at him were. He took a few steps forward, and was surprised to see the people shrink back from him. He raised both his arms up, and said: "Oh, don't be afraid of me! I'm here to help you, not hurt you or anything like that!"

    One man, emboldened by the lack of black sand pouring out of the unnaturally tall, thin stranger in front him, stepped to the front of the group. "Who are you, scarecrow? What do you want?" Llassar responded with, "My name is Llassar. I've come from a very long way away, and I want to try and help you with your food problem." The people began to step closer to Llassar, curiosity outweighing the intial surprise at his entrance. The first man said "How can you help us with our problems, scarecrow? And how do you know so much about the contents of our larders?" Llassar shrugged, saying: "You look skinny, is all. You must not be eating much, if you're skinny. And I can feel the ground; it's hungry and brutal. It'll be hard to get a good crop out of this soil..." The people drew back, muttering amongst themselves. The word 'spirit' was repeated often. "Here, look, I'll show you can I help." Llassar said, thinking their muttering meant they didn't believe he could help him. He bent his knees and crouched down, pressing a hand into the hard dirt of the camp. Closing his eyes and muttering, he slowly lifted his hand, bringing a small shoot of green up with it. "See? I can help you!" The first man, a scowl appearing on his face, said: "We worship the goddess of the Fayhedran, the maiden, and will not be seduced from her by you, spirit!" Llassar jumped backwards in surprise at the man's accusatory tone. "Hey, easy now! I'm only trying to help, not trying to start a schism in your religion or anything!"

    The crowd's angry murmurs continued, but a few said: "Look at what he has done, though. Maybe he can help us. We should bring him to Fayruz just in-" as soon as Llassar heard that name, his loud inhalation stalled any further conversation. "What!? Fayruz!? She's here and alive!? An unbelieving grin appearing on his face, Llassar began to hop on one foot from the other in excitement! "Where is she!? You've got to tell me!" One of the Fayhedran, befuddled by the strangers sudden change temperament, gestured at The Olm; and was nearly knocked off his feet as Llassar burst into a sprint, his long legs and strides eating up the space between the small village and the hilltop. The shouts from the people to come back fell on deaf ears: Llassar wasn't stopping, not now!

    Two guards were standing near the entrance of The Olm when they say a scarecrow of a man sprinting up at them: They looked at each other and moved to block him. "Stop!" Llassar slid to a stop, sweat dripping off his face, taking great breaths, and just looked at them. After they had ascertained that the black sand wasn't tainting the tall stranger, they stepped aside, and allowed Llassar entrance. He ran into the city, bumping men, mumbling apologies, and generally causing a massive ruckus.

    He didn't even notice the floating robes, radiant woman, stalwart smith, the slender warrior, and the veiled and robed queen of the entire city as he frantically searched for any sign of his sister. It's doubtful that Faden, Dasque, Haramhold, Frellon, and Fayruz could miss the sprinting figure, shouting Fayruz's name, though!

    "Fayruz!? Fayruz, are you here? It's your brother! Where are you, Fayruz?"
    Last edited by Tectonic Robot; 2012-04-08 at 07:56 PM.

  22. - Top - End - #502
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    Llassar didn't even notice the floating robes, radiant woman, stalwart smith, the slender warrior, and the veiled and robed queen of the entire city as he frantically searched for any sign of his sister. It's doubtful that Faden, Dasque, Haramhold, Frellon, and Fayruz could miss the sprinting figure, shouting Fayruz's name, though!

    "Fayruz!? Fayruz, are you here? It's your brother! Where are you, Fayruz?"

    Haramhold could barely keep himself from laughing at Llassar's frantic energy as he sprinted to and fro shouting for his beloved sister Fayruz. The Humble Farmer's sheer joy and excitement stunning the all of the gods present. Even Jongo would have had a hard time matching this level of enthusiasm.

    Waiting for Llassar to pass by him again Haramhold reached out an arm and snagged his brother, muscles stronger than iron clamping down on Llassar's scarecrow frame.

    "Slow down." Haramhold said as he drew Llassar into a crushing embrace "It is good to see you again brother." Waiting for Llassar to calm down, Haramhold turned his brother toward the Maiden of Dusk. "I do believe that you have forgotten what our sister looks like. May I re introduce you to Fayruz The Dragon Slayer and Queen of the Olm."
    Sometimes it is useful to know how large your zero is. ~Author Unknown

  23. - Top - End - #503
    Ogre in the Playground
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    Aramar’s ball of darkness discharged in total silence, shooting forward – and passing right through the shape of the writhing snake. He slumped, exhausted – that final effort had finished him. And that was when he noticed the furtive shapes in the corners of the room, Blind-folk making gestures and chanting quietly. He had been so focused on the immediate threat that he had not noticed them before. Too late, as the giant serpent came apart into a thousand flaming pieces, did he realize their ploy. Their magic caught him up and locked every bone in his body from moving. While he had been distracted, they had dismantled his wards, and now he was helpless. Even as he listened to them chant, he felt a tickling, and then an absence of feeling at his feet. The last thing he was a gray color seeping up his flesh towards his face.


    Kran, high sorcerer and magician of the Blind-Folk, wasn’t convinced. “We shall tie his essence to this spot, so that should the worst happen, he will not escape. And time will pass differently. Every second to us will be an eternity within the sphere. Thus we can be assured that the godling cannot escape to torment us.”

    The twelve magicians of the inner circle positioned themselves inside the sphere – they were tasked with ensuring that the wards held the godling the days it would take those on the outside to react in relative time. It also meant that they would sacrifice their lives in mere instants. They were prepared.


    Those outside the sphere watched anxiously, tensely, prepared to intercede should the slightest movement be detected. They watched, and waited, as their companions within the sphere wasted away. Storms that had not yet occurred whipped the area with rain and winds, and leaves fell from non-existant trees, and still they watched. Three days they watched -- Three hundred years passed within. Nothing. Kran smiled. “Come my brethren. We have much to plan in the coming months.”
    My Homebrew:
    WIP
    The Fortunar Base Class: A Fortuneteller wielding a minor Deck of Many Things. Mid T3.

    Completed Classes
    The Grandmaster : A master of animated stattuettes and tactical magic. High tier 3.
    The Hidden Word: An infiltrator with a wide range of abilities that works best in small teams. Tier 2-3
    Web-Spinner: A martial class based around using webs. Mid T3.
    The True Warrior: A swift mundane martial combat class that can dodge and slice their way to victory. Low Tier 3.

  24. - Top - End - #504
    Firbolg in the Playground
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    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Where do we go from here?


    A Travellers Ballad

    Quote Originally Posted by Ladorak View Post
    Warnings of War


    Once again a shimmering white shield bursts into life above Frellion. This time a shining star burnt upon the north western continent, it's lustre marked the route to Markien in delicate white trails. Once again the distorted voice of Carolinus issued forth. 'Father's blessing upon you my brothers. I wish I could grace you with thankful words and good intention, but such is not the nature of the world. A new power rises in the North brothers, and they are mighty. I fought their champion and when defeated he warned me of their coming.
    'Then call themselves the First People, also known as the Titans. They are as men, but wrought enormous and fierce. The one I fought stood thirty feet, his subordinate twenty five. I suggest you send all your people to Markien, it is the only hope we have of halting the oncoming tide.'
    Kalandor stands stock still, his eyes gazing upright. A single whisper emmited from his lips, as his mind gazed upon the trails Carolinus had proposed, looking at posible short trails, calling to his minds eye the relevent currents of air and water.
    "Are mine threatened? It would seem I shall veiw the bestial titan."

    Quote Originally Posted by AntiMatter101 View Post
    Frellon’s hand tightened on the hilt of his blade. “Titians?” He tasted each syllable, testing the word on his tongue. They were responsible? Then they would regret it. The ocean of Sorrow he had been drowning in ever since this morning retreated back down into his heart, only to be replaced with the cool fires of Fury. He still had no target, but now he had a name, they would find no refuge.

    Some part of his mind was examining the route Carolinus had proposed he take to Markein. Such a route would take time. Much more time than Frellon feared his people had.

    Frellon had stood lost in thought for several seconds. Now he shifted nervously, like a horse in a stable, desperate to be running free. He said nothing, but those who knew him would sense his urgency to be traveling already.
    Kalandor looked to his brother Frellon, he could feel his nerves just as he could feel the dry earth beneath his boots. His gaze rested on Llassar in Haramholds arms, before returning to Frellon.
    "I am sorry my siblings, but I feel it is time for me to return to where I have made home. I know that I am not the only one that feels the call, Frellon, if you would have me, I would help you to the land we have made home."
    -----------------------

    From Little Things, Big things Grow

    And the Children from the Unfrozen north grew. They had learned from the teachings of Kalandor. They learned of each other, for amoungst the greatest of Kalandor's Tenents was of peaceful travel. To be an adventurer, a trader, to walk the fonteir and press the boundries.
    From this, the Races of Man had begun trading in earnest. More of the Basics of Cartography where explored, and while no headway was made, Trade had begun, and was florishing. The Beastial beings had begun to trade outside the boarders, and perhaps the most outcast and forethinking (If because it was the weaest) tribe of Orcs joined a growing community of neighbors. Technology and tools were traded. Idea's moved, and those most able to were able to run with them. And the chosen of Kalandor flourished.

    Spoiler
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    Acts:
    1 Major: 'Create' the Chil'R
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    The Chil'R are a special group, even amoungst the Bestial beings. They have existed long before Kalador 'Fell', created by what they believe to be a titan, they have become on of the 'Chosen of Kalandor.'
    The Chil'R have the apearence of black horses, but bearing canines and claws instead of hoves and molars, as they were orriginolly made to exact vengence upon the human populations of their continent of origen.
    While these slight differences from normall horses and their sapeince isn't to unusual amoungst the bestial beings, their are a few features that set them apart:
    They don't age.
    The second caste of the Chil'R can create members of the third caste with their claws and fangs, causing wounds that eventually cause the aflicted to transform.
    All members have some level of telekenises and magical potential.

    Due to their reliece over the melenia upon 'combat breeding', the two castes have forgotton how to reproduce (for the moment), outside of the Chil'Raben creating more Chil'Rabu (The Chil'Rabi having left after meeting Kalandor)


    1 Minor: Teach the people of the northan continent trading/the basics of diplomacy.

    Remaining Acts: 2 Major, 2 minor, 2 Ceromonies.
    Last edited by Erik Vale; 2012-04-14 at 08:22 PM.
    Spoiler: Quotes!
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    Quote Originally Posted by Sun Hunter's Recruitment
    Quote Originally Posted by Sliver View Post
    Saying no to a Sun's Hunter is as close as it gets to an invitation to have your place destroyed by them)\
    Quote Originally Posted by Vedhin View Post
    In other words, be nice to the murderhobos so they don't murder you?
    Quote Originally Posted by JanusJones View Post
    The professional, well-funded, well-backed, card-carrying, licensed murderhobos, yes.
    Quote Originally Posted by Chilingsworth View Post
    Congrats, you made me laugh hard enough to draw my family's attention.


    Life is Hectic.

  25. - Top - End - #505
    Ettin in the Playground
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    Fayruz held Dasque tight to her, tasting the scent of light and ice. They would be hard to explain to anyone else, but she knew them for what they were; light was clear and sweet, and ice was sharp and cold and crystalline. Much like her sister, she supposed. They'd all changed - Haramhold had finally grown into his skill, but Dasque, Dasque had become a warrior. Fayruz could see that in the sharpness of Dasque, and she remembered that warriors often hurt themselves as much as they hurt their enemies. So she held Dasque all the tighter, hoping to remind her sister that she was a sister, that she was still loved, even down here in the wild and the heat and the dark.

    And then, Frellon, oh, Frellon! His scent was the taste of sweat and bronze, like a lion on the hunt, the sun hot against its dappled back. When they'd all left the White City, young Frellon had been a child - Fayruz had watched his duels and helped him towel off after a few vigorous fights, but he had not been a truly noble swordsman until they had fallen. Now he seemed to be strong, vigorous, and yet still he prowled about like a lion, uncertain of what to do. She embraced him tightly, too, happy to feel his finely-muscled body free of injury and pain, and the beat of his heart against her chest.

    Bright blue light shone out, and she released Frellon, looking up - as her siblings did - to see the phantom shield floating above Frellon. As Carolinus spoke - brave Carolinus! - her heart sank. Was it not enough that the spider spun his wicked webs here in the desert, must there be Titans, as well? Was it this First People who built the Olm, when in days gone by, it had a roof, had walls, was great and grand? Did they dig out the river? But thinking about that was meaningless now; the family had another foe to fight.

    As Carolinus bade them to come north, to bring all their people to the fight, little clay fingers brushed against hers. Fayruz looked down, and placed a gentle hand upon the brow of the small clay-child sent by Avyra. A small, ink-stained piece of parchment was pushed into Fayruz's other hand by the child, and it slipped off into the crowd. She'd have to respond to Avyra's message soon enough - but, oh, how she wanted to see Avyra in the flesh once more!

    Fayruz made up her mind, then. She would apologize to her siblings for being unable to go and help Carolinus, for there was too much that she still needed to do at the Olm to protect her people. She would tell them that whenever they needed help, she would be there for them... but, no, that would mean that to live up to what she said, she would have to go to help Carolinus. But her people needed her... the two choices spun within her. No, she would have to go, if only to try and stop the war between the Titans and the Family before it began. She stepped forward to speak to her siblings, to her people who needed her so much-

    "Fayruz!? Fayruz, are you here? It's your brother! Where are you, Fayruz?"

    Fayruz blinked, non-plussed and surprised, as Llassar, who seemed taller and darker than he'd been back home, sprinted right past her. Didn't he see her? Couldn't he... and then she realized that the fool's outfit which marked her among the Fayheran, made her instantly recognizable by anyone, made her less recognizable to her siblings. She sighed, softly, and started forward, just as Haramhold plucked him from his course and embraced him tightly, like a rock wrapped around a stick. Then, as Haramhold offered to reintroduce Fayruz, she reached up and pulled down her mask, revealing her face to her brother. She smiled at him, happy to see him again, and she took him in her arms joyfully. "Welcome, Llassar! Have you met anyone else yet? We have Faden here, and Dasque," She began, gesturing to her brother in robes, and her bright sister, and then to each sibling in turn. "And Haramhold, of course, and Frellon and Kalandor, and Avyra and Jongo, who aren't here, and Carolinus and Sonata who are abroad, and The Weaver who you just missed... have you seen anyone else?" She pulled back, tasting the hot scent of corn and freshly-tilled earth and a hot tent filled with people, looking up at his face intently. "Have you?"
    freedom in the flame

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    Quote Originally Posted by PhoeKun View Post
    Raz, you scoundrel! You planned this!
    Quote Originally Posted by BladeofObliviom View Post
    Great, and now I'm imagining what Raz's profile on a dating site would look like. "Must be okay with veils."
    Quote Originally Posted by Kasanip View Post
    I don't think there is such a time to have veils that it is not the fault of Raz_Fox.
    Quote Originally Posted by Dervag View Post
    It's a freaking Romulan dump truck. The Romulans are no more likely to build an unarmed warp-capable ship than they are to become a hippy commune.

  26. - Top - End - #506
    Ogre in the Playground
     
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    Words of War


    There was a pause in the air above. The shield both magnificent and forgotten. Those in the Olm had no way of knowing that thousands of miles away Carolinus had been distracted by the petty business of breaking camp with both former slaves and Titan in tow.

    When next his distorted voice spoke he had taken stock of the feel of Frellon 's spark and those around it. If was difficult but with time he had become fairly certain which of his siblings stood with Frellon.

    His gravelly voice made strangely metallic by the spells distortion again spoke. It did not boom out this time but instead issued forth at more reasonable volume and more convenient location for each of his siblings. 'Greetings brothers, sisters. Glad I am to find you whole and safe. Father's blessing upon you all. Fayruz, to you I am undone. I failed in my oath to protect you, turned back to save others more helpless, I owe you deepest apologies. My fidelity to my oath to protect you will be henceforth doubled, you need only speak your need and I shall die to see you safe. Haramhold, knowing nothing of you for decades I still know I can ask this of you. I will never forget my brother's skill, nor his heart. Markien is in need of weapons, a great many weapons I fear. I have taught my people of ironwork but I know not of alloys. If they are to stand against the Titans I would see them do it with steel upon breast and in hand. To all of you I ask this, when next you see Jongo tell brother-sister I was greatly disappointed not to meet her and whomever was travelling with her. I expect she thinks I'm even more of a grassblade now... Whatever that means.' Although his siblings had not beheld him in decades all instantly recognised the wry tone in his voice. Carolinus had long beheld Jongo with a mystified amusement. With most of his siblings Carolinus always seemed a little detached and distance. The wiser of his siblings knew this was not without reason. He always seemed on his guard because he was literally on guard. The absolute nature of his vow and the absolute regard he held it in meant one thing. As soon as his siblings stepped into a room Carolinus became constantly aware of their surroundings, constantly ready to interpose himself between them and any threat, despite this often being absurdly unlikely. It was only Cireo and Jongo that could ever break that constant guardian awareness. Only with them did he seem fully himself, or perhaps it was only them that could cause the mask to slip. Even now, with his people threatened, his family scattered and the fate of Cireo and Father unknown, still the mere thought of Jongo broke his warrior stance, all could imagine the familiar small smile on one side of his mouth. But he was the knight of the White City, it could not last.

    'The Titan said they dwelled beneath a mountain in the north. I believe it unlikely they have any means of crossing the sea. All humans must stay away from the north western continent until this threat is ended. Spread the word to your peoples. I plan to gather as many as possible to safety in Markein, if you have any followers or friends upon this continent send them to me, with word of their coming. I will do all I can for them. I love you all.'

    And with that the shield was gone, as was he.

    Wardstone

    Carolinus stood in the shadows of Black Buttress, deep in thought. Above him hundreds of Wardens and volunteers stood arrayed along the rocky outcrops above the ten foot wall that now stood against the narrowest point of the pass. The wall itself was abandoned on Carolinus' command, to a Titan it was a little more than a few seconds of delay. He stood alone on the wall, assaying Markien defences.

    He had said before that the Black Buttress would not hold, he had hoped that seeing the great looming slopes of immutable black stone would allay his fears. It was a false hope, as it died in his chest he realised he had never truly believed it.

    Titans would have to assault the narrow pass in twos or threes. Without armour they would pay a heavy price, while a human's arrows or spears may at first seem inconsequential to a Titan their greater bulk also made them a far easier target. Against the host arrayed above they would fall as children before a swarm of hornets. But when they came in armour only marksmen aiming for eyes would make any difference, Carolinus doubted it would take long for the Titans to learn to cover their eyes. After that the Black Buttress would fall.

    He jumped down from the wall and started back, already certain of his next move.

    Through the Black Buttress the path gradually widened and began to slope up. The slope became much steeper shortly after the path reached almost a hundred feet across. 'Here is where we will stop the Titans.' he whispered to himself distractedly, his mind fixed on the beginnings of the epic task before him.

    He begun by raising up the earth itself until what was once a slope now stood a great cliff 50 foot tall, a tunnel at the centre ran up at the same angle as the original slope. Carolinus walked up the tunnel until he came level with the new edifice, he glanced back, surveying the new land spread out before him. He nodded slowly to himself, it was a start.

    ***********

    Six times Carolinus raised up the earth and cut a narrow tunnel through each slope up to the top of the former mountain turned series of plateau. When he was done he pulled stone and minerals up through the bedrock and dragged great sturdy walls out of the cliff faces. At the top he placed a great keep. There were barracks and rooms for cooks and medics on every level, he formed great towers into the walls that burrowed down instead of up into the sky, allowing men to fire closer to the ground via arrowslits without fear of any door being breached.

    By the time the sun had set he was content with his work. He sent word to Louisa to have the Wardens assemble in full force at the new home of their order. He called it Wardstone and then moved onto other tasks without a backward glance.

    Minor Act: Create a city
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    Last edited by Ladorak; 2012-04-11 at 08:48 PM.
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    The Human Spirit by kpenguin. The Raynnverse lives!

    Vagrant and Seal by Smuchmuch. This depiction of Seal is so s'much like Smuchmuch

    Sentient #6 Avatar by kpenguin. Clearly the best picture of a M&M character named after a Nevermore song there has ever been.

  27. - Top - End - #507
    Ogre in the Playground
     
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    Jongo, the Everchanging

    "Well of course I don't mean that I'm going to have a white moose fly with it's antlers. It obviously flies with it's hooves. Stop being ridiculous." Jongo was squawking at the ring pierced in his beak. As an Albatross, Jongo didn't need to flap or concentrate much on flying. So mostly, the trip to Salus was spent in conversation. And since Jongo knew her destination, it was a much easier task.

    But the Band of Chaos was being unusual - even more unusual - and the wind that Jongo had been occasionally speaking with pressed at his tail feathers, making them twitchy.

    The ring in her nose muddled a soft tune, and fell silent.

    "Fine. But giving a moose a red nose is just weird. That's all I'm saying." Jongo also fell silent, and let his consciousness roam. It chose to wander, and remember.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    The White City
    The Grand Kitchen
    Shortly After the "Birth" of The Weaver


    "The Weaver? Are you sure?" Jongo sat in the Kitchen, staring at a spirit who'd just answered his question. Which, of course, led to another question.

    "Yes."

    "That's... unusual for Father. I mean, I certainly don't disagree with it, it's a fine name, and it's probably better than some, but... Is it truly my new brother's name?"

    "Yes."

    "How... odd."

    "..."

    "You're also odd, Nyyck."

    "Yes." The spirit that Jongo had been following was nondescript. It usually worked at moving things from place to place. If something from the Gardens needed to be brought to the First Spirit of Knowledge's study, it was Nyyck who moved it. If young Avyra wanted to look at a heavy book in her quarters, it was Nyyck who went out and grabbed it. Blank, quiet, soft spoken, and almost featureless Nyyck.

    It was the featureless part of the spirit that drew Jongo to the Carry Spirit. Jongo never really needed things brought to her - it was much more fun to go find them himself. Still... bland Nyyck caught Jongo's eyes. Mostly, the spirit stayed in the Grand Kitchen until someone called for it to lift or move something. There were other Carry Spirits of course, but Nyyck was the only one who stood over seven feet tall, and had a tiny face that looked muted and almost not there. It was different, and Jongo noticed the different.

    Soon, Jongo was following the Carry Spirit around on it's duties, and even getting the unusually silent spirit to answer questions. Jongo ALWAYS had questions.

    "Do you think... do you think I have to call him that? The Weaver, I mean. It's just... such a mouthful. Couldn't it just be Weave, or Weavers, or even The Wee?"

    "Names are important."

    "What?"

    "Names. They are important."

    "Why?"

    "Don't know. I'm just a Carry Spirit."

    "I guess... But oh! I could... give him a second name? Would that be ok?"

    "Don't know. I'm just a Carry Spirit. But Names are important. First or second ones."

    "But... Why?" Jongo pouted, and watched Nyyck pick up a large sack from in the Grand Kitchen. Someone had probably called for the sack, because Nyyck wouldn't start moving until it was called.

    "Names give something meaning. I say 'Jongo' and everyone knows I mean you. Just you."

    "True... but you could easily say 'First Child of Baz'Auran' and mean me, and just me, as well."

    "Too long. Not a Name."

    Jongo caught it that time. Nyyck was pronouncing 'name' differently. It was the same... but not. It had... what was the word Faden would use? Emphasis. It had emphasis.

    "First Child of The Creator is who you are, no question. But I can say that with 'Jongo'. Just... 'Jongo'. Excuse me." Hefting the sack, Nyyck started to walk out of the Grand Kitchen. Jongo followed, interested in the conversation. Nyyck kept talking, "Give someone a Name, and it's theirs and only theirs. Might be, you could do something more with it. Give them a second Name, one that's not true? Don't feel right. Till it does."

    "What? What do you mean?"

    "Don't know. I'm just a Carry Spirit."

    "You seem to know a lot more than you are telling me, for just a Carry Spirit."

    "Ask Tezzerin." With that, Nyyck trudged deeper into the White City. Jongo decided not to follow. This time.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Jongo's tail-feathers twitched. The wind wanted to speak with her again.

    It was a different breeze this time. Heavier. More forceful. It didn't really have a voice... not one that Jongo could hear. It seemed to speak of a gathering of the winds close by. Something had forced them. Had made them push clouds together. They winds would have resisted - tried, in fact - but the will of air had been exhausted by Jongo's plea to push Green Morningstar to the Olm.

    So when the Being called, the wind answered, and brought with it a great storm.

    The heavy breeze seemed like it was apologizing, which confused Jongo at first.

    And then he saw it.

    Land. Land ahead at last.

    But beyond that... Dark Clouds. Dark Clouds that were angry, and in pain. Something was forcing them to be here, something was causing them suffering, and they could only find release in causing suffering to others.

    The Dark Clouds screamed with lightning, in pain and agony. They roared with thunder, so loud as to drown out all other noise. They wept rain so hard, it was like a wall of water from the sky.

    And it was all centered over Salus.

    Salus, who's protector and patron, Jongo had stolen, to go on a wild adventure.

    Salus, who's people were now fearing for their lives.

    "Oh man. I hope the sheep are ok." Jongo picked up speed, and raced towards the storm.
    Last edited by Gengy; 2012-04-11 at 08:32 PM.
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    BladeofObliviom said:
    I've only seen a character at anything resembling this level of absurdity thrive exactly once, and he/she/what-the-jongo had the advantage of being written by Gengy, who I look up to as a writer.

    "What-the-Jongo?"
    Before you insult someone, walk a mile in their shoes.
    That way, you'll be a mile away, and have their shoes!

    Got me a Real Job™ (yay!). Still busy (boo!).
    ~avatar by myself

  28. - Top - End - #508
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    shorewood's Avatar

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    Watching this new reunion of his family gladdens Haramhold's heart but time is of the essence. He has spent to much of the morning already with his siblings when he should be at work. For he had much to do and very little time to do it.

    "If you would excuse me Fayruz, some fell power has begun to terrorize my people so I have very little time to dawdle here." Haramhold said as he turned toward Fayruz "I will be leaving at sundown. If any of you would like to examine Green MorningStar I suggest you do so before then." and with that the smith left the happy reunion of his siblings and went to work.

    Cresting the small hill where he had crafted the crystal tub the night before Haramhold was recalled at how frayed and weary Fayruz was. It was time to fix that.

    Amanda who had anticipated Haramhold's needs had brought all of the various chemicals and tools needed for crystal crafting. Opening up the first jar he almost spilled its sparkling brown contents onto the children who were prancing and playing around and in the tub. Shrieking in laughter at the befuddled god the kids scampered to a safe distance. Hassling each other in their eagerness to watch this brother of the great healer.

    Haramhold poured some of the liquid into the tub not needing to measuring cup to know exactly how much to use. Several other chemicals were added each in their own volume and order. Finally the preparation was complete and Haramhold plunged his hands into the mixture kneading it like a baker would his bread. Slowly at first the heart of the crystal came to life, expanding with an ever increasing rate. Haramhold molded the crystal into an tall octahedron perfectly clear and four feet tall and two feet wide. Lifting it out of the tub Haramhold grasps it tightly in his calloused hands sending a strand of his divine spark coursing down his fingers and into his work. A bright flash blinds the immediate area as runes of power etch themselves into the insides of the crystal leaving the surface unmarred.

    The light died down and Haramhold let the crystal go, but it did not fall. Rather it stopped exactly six inches above the ground where is levitated freely. Placing a hand on the crystal Haramhold plunges it in, the hard surface parting like water. Haramhold pulled out four of the runes each encased in a small portion of the larger crystal.

    Wiping the sweat from his brow Haramhold smiled at his creation, the Crystal of Community.
    Spoiler
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    Major Act: create artifact

    The Crystal of Community floats six off the ground and it is a four foot tall two foot wide octahedron. The crystal itself is perfectly clear except for the runes of the white city which float within it. At the very center of the crystal its heart shines with a light whose intensity corresponds with how much power is currently stored within. The nature of the light corresponds with the nature of those who have donated energy to it.

    This artifact essentially acts as a mystical battery, anyone who touches it surface can donate a portion of their energy to the crystal which it will store until it is drawn from by one of the four smaller crystals.

    The Crystal of Community reflects those who give it power. If naught but good willed healers donate power to it then its power would be much easier to wield for healing. But if some fell chaos beast steals it away and begins pumping power into this artifact then one would find it difficult to use its power to heal. Rather the arts of destruction and domination would be easier to achieve. This balance is correlated with the proportion of the nature of donated energy.

    It should be noted that the farther away one draws power from the crystal the less efficient the expenditure is. This wasted energy is negligible for such small distances as several hundred kilometers. But is noticeable at very long distances.


    Looking up at the sun Haramhold notes that it has begun to sink in the sky and knows that he is pressed for time. "Amanda, would you be so kind as to deliver this gift to Fayruz. I must see to the defenses of the Olm." Haramhold said as he pressed the four crystals into her hands.

    Stepping forward Amanda nods in acceptance watching as Haramhold marches away. Looking about at the watching crowd Amanda places a slender hand on the crystal and gently nudges it down the hill where Fayruz was last seen. The crowds parted at the sight of the red lady and it wasn't long before she found her aunt. "Fayruz may I present you with a gift from your brother Haramhold. The Crystal of Community, let its light ease your burdens from now until the end of time." Amanda announced hoping that the gods present would find her tone appropriate. She went on to explain what it did and how it functioned. For although Haramhold had not explained its purpose for he did not have to. She was a master of crystal lore, The artifact spoke its secrets to her as clearly as birds singing at dawn.

    ----------
    Haramhold left the Crystal of Community in the care of his sweet Amanda. He rather liked the way the light from Jewely reflected on the Crystal of Community how it... No not now.

    It did not take him long to find Kureza the southern warrior which Saven had suggested to him. The stark white bones which decorated her long dark braided hair stood in contrast with her dark skin and onix eyes.

    "Greetings Kureza, I have a favor to ask of you."

    Looking at the bald, muscled god whose beard had never known proper grooming, Kureza thought for a moment. This sibling of Fayruz the blessed, seemed nicer than some of her other relations. But the warrior remembered what the lady of light and the vile way she had referred to the people of the Olm. It was perhaps not safe to grant a favor to these other gods, for none could compare to the majestic beauty of Fayruz. But Kureza was no coward and it needed to be known if this Haramhold could be trusted. "Name your favor, god of crafting."

    "I have need of your help Kureza, I intend to impart a great knowledge to my sister's people and see that the Olm is no longer defenseless. But I do not have the time teach them or to survey the surrounding landscape. So I would have you lend your knowledge of the land to me and accept the skills I would impart to you so that you might spread them amongst your craftsmen."

    This seemed like an odd request to Kureza. Surely if this god had time to create a fortification then he would have time to survey the land. "Why ask me? Why not seek out one of the craftsmen to help you. I am certain there are several that are just as familiar with the land as I am."

    Looking at the proud warrior Haramhold remembered the battle against the black sand. "Because your people face many dangers and it would be better if a warrior is intimately familiar with the Olm's defenses."

    This made some sense to Kureza but she was wary of the god's wording "Who am I to question a god." she stated managing to keep her concern out of her voice.

    Taking Kureza's hands in his own Haramhold closed his eyes and whispered "Concentrate on the land."

    Kureza's mind opened up, all of her knowledge about the Olm's land flashing through her mind. Every hill, rock, and bend she remembered in exquisite detail. All of this knowledge was passed to the Haramhold's mind and with it he began to work.

    Every spare rock for miles around tumbled and rolled toward the edge of the olm. Boulders buried deep within the earth rose up to join the smaller rocks. Reaching their destination the rocks merged together like water, forming great stone bricks which formed the first the foundation and then the walls themselves.

    Three walls were built each with one gate of iron from the deep earth. Each gate is flanked by two strong towers. The first was the longest but the shortest standing only ten feet high and ten feet thick. It was positioned at the base of the plateau. The second was twenty feet tall and fifteen thick. It stood halfway up the hill, located at the steepest point. The extra height giving those on the second wall enough range to shoot those on the first with bow and arrow. The third wall is thirty feet tall, and twenty feet thick. Positioned at the very top of the plateau also. None of the walls are perfectly circular rather they twist and twine with the natural landscape as to make a attack as difficult as possible. The top of each wall is connected to the one behind it by three bridges, only wide enough for three man to walk abreast. The anchor's of the bridges can be broken by a few well placed blows from a sledge hammer from those on the higher wall. Between each gate a strong paved path winds between them. The walls entirely surrounded the Olm so that none could assault this holy place without first breaching all three walls.

    Kureza was aware of all of this and as the fortifications of the Olm rose the knowledge of stone crafting flooded her mind. The knowledge of how to shape rock, how to quarry it, the mixing of mortar and the properties of rocks.

    Spoiler
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    Minor act: teach a skill stone working
    Minor act: create the fortifications around the olm

    Note: the gates on each wall are not linear.
    Note: the idea behind the bridges is that if the defenders of the olm need to fall back to the wall some/all of them can do so via the bridges. So they would not have to go run down the wall they are defending, through the next gate and up the next wall. Each of these bridges can be destroyed by those on the higher wall as to prevent them from being used to breach the next line of defense.


    And as the sun sank low into the sky the Great fortifications were finished to the wonder of those within the Olm. Releasing Kureza's hands Haramhold gazed upon his work with pride. It would take a great army to force their way through this fortification. Turning toward the southern warrior Haramhold said "I have given you the raw knowledge of stone work. How to quarry and shape it. But only time and dedication can turn this knowledge into mastery. Take care that you nurture this gift well."

    Leaving Kureza to digest all of the new knowledge which had been poured into her mind Haramhold turned around toward Fayruz's tent.
    Last edited by shorewood; 2012-04-15 at 04:42 PM.
    Sometimes it is useful to know how large your zero is. ~Author Unknown

  29. - Top - End - #509
    Ogre in the Playground
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    Nothing moved. In the distance, an owl hooted. The caved-in roof of the room gave it the look of a ruin, open to the elements – as well it should. No one had entered that particular room in nigh on three millenia. Outside, one could hear the constant tramping of feet as the endless lines of Blind-Folk marched by in the distance, and the clanging of forges. Occasionally, one could hear the snap of a whip as a slaver uttered a curse at some unfortunate Nightborn, who had slipped in their duty. It was a hot, oppressive night. The room itself lay, unexplored, unexciting. Little remained except some crushed statues, statues of fantastical creatures, most precedent of the woodlands to the south – fey, centaurs, a pair of massive cave wolves. Each cave wolf was easily the size of a small hut, measuring perhaps eighteen feet from head to tail.

    A cool breeze blew through the room, throwing up small eddies of leaves and mulch that had fallen in among the shattered remains. The breeze spun momentarily in place, then whisked around a statue that lay, unnoticed, to the left and behind the wolves, half-hidden beneath a massive slab of stone. It played around the covered statue, pushing leaves away from the face to reveal a hooded face, scarred by the passage of time – a youthful face, but one contorted with both wrath and despair. And pain, a boundless torment. A small squirrel scampered into the hollow, skittering around excitedly. Stopping to perch on top of the statue’s head, it chattered eagerly to itself, and jumped to another perch, a few feet up from where it was. As it did, a small pattering of stones fell down, bouncing against the hooded head below. For a second, the squirrel froze, tilting its head. It heard whispers, dark whispers – voices speaking words that had not been spoken in eaons. As the whispers grew louder, the squirrel fled, all thoughts of searching for the acorns it had stashed away in this hollow erased by a primal, instinctual fear. A stronger wind whipped up and played around the room, a whistling sound growing in the air, and a darkness gathering about the hollow. The last thing the terrified squirrel saw before the darkness obscured everything was a pair of hateful, glowing, purple eyes – and the white flash of fangs in the darkness.
    Last edited by Demidos; 2012-04-14 at 01:04 PM.
    My Homebrew:
    WIP
    The Fortunar Base Class: A Fortuneteller wielding a minor Deck of Many Things. Mid T3.

    Completed Classes
    The Grandmaster : A master of animated stattuettes and tactical magic. High tier 3.
    The Hidden Word: An infiltrator with a wide range of abilities that works best in small teams. Tier 2-3
    Web-Spinner: A martial class based around using webs. Mid T3.
    The True Warrior: A swift mundane martial combat class that can dodge and slice their way to victory. Low Tier 3.

  30. - Top - End - #510
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Tectonic Robot's Avatar

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    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Llassar rushed through the crowd, his search growing more and more frantic with each passing moment. Where oh where could his only living sibling be? He wanted to hear about her adventures, what she had been doing! Maybe, just maybe one of his other siblings was still alive, and Fayruz knew where they were! But where was she!?

    And suddenly a pair of strong arms were wrapped around him! Llassar contained a yelp and began to struggle, feeling the earth beneath him- when suddenly the man spoke, and it was Haramhold! "Haramhold!? You're alive!" Llassar wrapped his long arms around Haramhold. "Haramhold, I can't believe that..." And then he's pushed up to Fayruz, who looked different... what was different about her? She seemed more...

    And then Fayruz started listing names. Name after name of his siblings... siblings that were still alive! "Wait! Everyone is still alive? We aren't the two left!? Everyone is..." Llassar impetuously rushed to Fayruz and embraced her, laughing with joy!

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    The fact that Haramhold was leaving was crushing news to the god so soon reunited with his family, and Faden certainly wasn't going to stay for long, but Frellon and Fayruz and Dasque were certainly not going anywhere! "What happened? How did you survive? What have you all been doing?"

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