The Return of Netharzeem

Saxious · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Saxious** on Fri Dec 09, 2011 3:49 am

This is the IC of The Return of Netharzeem (OOC), it's still open for new characters, so pop by the OOC and see if you're interested.

Jozan von Carstein

Jozan’s lips moved silently as he read the words in the Holy Text. Praying to Lunian was both a mandatory and a necessity for Jozan, his work demanded a clean soul and his mind needed peace from the heavy burden he had on his shoulders.

Barely three weeks ago had a senior member of the Saint Hectar Order approached him, handing over a single letter that would contain a task which wasn’t easily given out to any member. He was to prevent Netharzeem from ever returning again.

The task sounded near impossible when he was first told, though when he read the letter of what he had to look for, it all became simpler. He didn’t know what to expect when wizards called for the aid of demons, though he had never imagined it would be anything so short and yet hard to achieve.

However, unlike the other tasks he had ever been assigned, he wasn’t to bring a whole army, or even a warband of mercenaries. He’d have to cross political borders, and as the Lunian Empire and the Aunriel Republic hadn’t been on good political terms, so the last thing the Order wanted was a political scandal.
So, if Jozan couldn’t bring his usual small army of henchmen, then he’d bring a one man army with him.
He had sent a rider to fetch Terryn for him, the man was practically worth three armies, and the two knew each other from the past. When he proclaimed his plan before the Order’s council, they proclaimed that Terryn should become a member, as the goal was noble and would suit the vigilant.

Though Jozan didn’t support the idea, he had remained silent. All he could do now was wait, he had written in his letter that Terryn could find him here, and that they’d find the Brother Wizards, Theodoric and Alexander. The two wizards were notorious for their hoarding of books, enchanted items and powers, although they weren’t subjects to the Lunian Empire, making it dangerous work for Jozan.

What is holding you back Terryn? Jozan thought impatiently as he attempted to pray his worry and stress out of his body and mind.

Drax

“What are these imbeciles trying to achieve, other than slowing me down?” Drax asked aloud as he looked down on the Kresh warriors. The Kresh were the natives of the Yougratian world, aggressive people, though not very smart when it came to fighting an opponent that fought dirty.

Drax had spend nearly three decades traveling through their swamp world, fighting those who got in his way and using their currency to hire mercenaries to make it easier for him to pass through the more densely populated areas.
The Kresh were too consumed with honor and fighting fairly, only mercenaries were willing in winning with sheer number, and since they accepted their stone currency, gold, and outer world treasures, it was easy to hire thousands of them when he needed muscles.

He looked up at the pink sky. It wasn’t a bad world, he had to admit that. Blue grass, murky waters, with eatable creatures, pink skies and blue clouds; he had, of course, been to far worse worlds, some had even poisonous fumes for air! Drax shook his head, getting rid of the dreadful experience when he participated in the 174th world invasion.

“Now, I came from that direction-” he pointed from where he had originated-“and the shaman told me that I was to head towards the black mountain. Well, if that’s the only place they have a portal, then so be it.”
Drax began to walk through the muddy lands again. Experience and hard learning had taught Drax how to precede through swamps such as these, after all, Netharzeem had proclaimed his race for Master Scouts for a reason.

gezzygezzy · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **gezzygezzy** on Fri Dec 09, 2011 6:29 pm

It happened again. Of course it had to happen on her wizarding permits test. Why not some other day, any other day! She was supposed to make a small fireball, but it had gotten to big and now the water wizards were dousing the fire. She had ran out as soon as she had done it but was now mocked by the other kids who had passed. Kicking a pebble it landed in the river, seperating her small little village from the kingdom with the council. It was amazing that for a village so close to them it was so small. This river seemed to separate the wealthy from the average.

The average, that was all she was. A group of kids walked by and snickered at her. Just another reason for her to be different, separated. Her black choppy hair was different than most of the perfectly even blonde or brunette hair in this village. Image mattered where you knew everyone and everyone knew you. She was outcasted for her midnight-like face, even though they were in the Lunian empire. Fascinating this village was, Sevek was filled with people who looked exactly the same, even her features her mother haad once called "beautiful" were cast aside as "strange" and "different".

What was it like to be in the big leagues? The council, the rulers, the gods especially. Was it nice?
'You should know'
said a voice that seemed to be coming from all directions. Looking around, Luna saw nobody except her reflecion in the smooth river. Grabbing a larger rock she threw it at her reflection distorting it and changing her features. How would she know? She was probably just hearing things, after all, she didn't say it out loud.

Great, just another thing to top her off. Hearing voices, that didn't sound like she was crazy at all. Gazing at the bridge with longing she wished she would have the guts to walk across, but a girl like her belonged in a small village, not this one apprently, but somewhere else with no purpose. The city would cast her out in seconds. But still....something in her was tugging her to that kingdom. Like she needed to go there. Maybe she just felt that from all the crazy talk of Netharzeem coming back flying around. It was the talk of Sevek, and apparently many other kingdoms and villages. Getting up she headed out to her house, but not without casting one final glance at the council building looming in the distance.

Irish Wolf · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Irish Wolf** on Fri Dec 09, 2011 11:30 pm

Alexander

The city of Snowieview on the edge of the Snowsilver Moor, the eastern quarter, the Aunriel Republic.

The massive black stone square stood in the mid-morning sun, soaking up the rays and looming along the homes of wizards and common folk.

The master of Freycrest Tower smiled thinly, watching the retreating backs of a party of adventurers. Fools a of them, offer a few babbles of little worth, gold coins, small jewels or weapons with minor enchantments out of the treasure room and they come flocking to complete any tasks he wanted. The wizard almost laughed but kept his tongue in check. he had just been delivered a pair of bracers, which if the rumors proved to be true, would be worth twenty times what he just paid for them. Every adventurer is a born fool.

Alexander did laugh, as the doors to his audience hall were closed by the chimeras he had made to act as servants in his tower. Looking up from the black metal bracers, one set with a ring of rubies and the other with a ring of star sapphires, he glanced around the hall. Lining the approach to the cushioned bench he liked to sit on, were some of his favorite or most interesting magical objects, all encased with crystal and protected by spells of his own design. His purple eyes always seemed drawn however, to the object he had placed to his right. Set on a pedestal, was a block of clear crystal, surrounding a torn slip of parchment, covered in the spidery script of magical runes.

Incomplete but the thing radiated power. The wizard (and his thrice accursed brother) had found it together, while....exploring a destroyed liberty in Lunian, three steps ahead of a band of witch hunters. They had both grabbed a spell book at the same time and by the magic of thing, were forced to share it but not the scrap of magical parchment, tucked within it's pages. His brother had found it, true enough but he had stolen it fairly, setting off a long string of swapping the ownership of the parchment over the past decade.

Theodoric

The city of Snowieview on the edge of the Snowsilver Moor, the western quarter, the Aunriel Republic.

Byley tower was a cheery place for the selected few who worked there. Most of the place was kept clean by magical measures and most of the rooms that did get messy, were off limits save for the master of tower. The only real hard work, was shooing away those who might bother their employer. That or when they had scale the smooth sides of the tower and hand scrub the deep blue stone, which was embedded with shining quartz crystals. They had to climb from the base up to the each top, of the triple branches of the top. One was flat, perfect for viewing the stars, one was capped with a cone of shingles and the last was topped with a smooth dome of stone.

Theodoric strolled through the walls and passages of his home, making his way down from his bed chamber, to one of the many libraries. He passed by an odd door, set in the outer wall of the tenth floor. It didn't lead out to a balcony or platform of any kind but rather, it was a magical connection to Freycrest tower. A brif thought flashed in his mind, concerning a particular piece of parchment but was pushed away. Simply walking over to see his brother and snatching the magical artifact, wasn't going to work. He was going to need to make a plan to get his incomplete spell back.

SkullsandSlippers · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **SkullsandSlippers** on Sat Dec 10, 2011 1:56 am

Vloria
Temple of Maklail
Snowieview, Aunriel Republic

Vloria exhaled through her teeth as the younger priestess wiped her back with the healing balm. It stung but it would make the welts heal quicker. A small smile turned up the corners of her mouth. Vloria didn’t really mind the sting; it was a reminder of her work that afternoon.

Some days she was the giver, wielding pain to those who came to honour her goddess and relinquish their control for a time. Other times, like this afternoon she was the receiver. The man needed to release a great deal of frustration and rage. Her back as well as the rest of her body had been at his mercy.

Like most, he had talked as he smacked her back with the thin switch. Sweet agony blurred her vision as he talked about his job. Vloria made a point of listening to all her clients. One never knew what they would say. Many liked to vent, especially if they were causing the pain, gave them a sense of accomplishment and control in their otherwise frustrating lives. Today had not been an exception. What was intriguing was the subject matter.

The man was a dealer in items rare, antique and hard to find things, in particular magical items. It had been a particularly trying week for him. A few stolen items, a bad deal and finally, a deal made with an arrogant wizard finally drove him to seek out Maklail’s priestess’.

Vloria thought back to the man’s ramblings. “Smack....arrogant bastard....smack....thinking he knew everything...room full of all sorts of junk, no order to it...smack, smack...half a spell...” It was this item in particular that had peaked her interest. He described a pedestal with a torn piece of parchment, encased in crystal. Vloria had coaxed more information out of him as the man changed from the light switch to the thicker riding crop. He told her so much about it that by the end, even as she panted from the pain and he was breathing heavy with the exertion of the beating she knew what he had seen.

The priestess’ had heard rumours. They were looking for a way to open the portal and so any information, no matter how trivial caught their attention. There was a spell that was needed. It was said that it had been torn in half and the pieces separated. Now, it seemed that one half had turned up and in a wizard’s care no less.Vloria had done her best; appeasing that man’s every desire until he finally gave her the name of the wizard and where he resided.

The younger woman finished and left the room. Vloria stood and dressed. Her green corset caused a fresh wave of light pain to sweep through her. Again a smile turned up the corners of her full lips. Dressed, dagger hidden in the front of her corset and another strapped to thigh she went to see the head priestess.

The two women talked about what Vloria had heard from the man and the implications of the spell, even half of it being found. Maklail wanted the portal opened, to regain her former power and now it seemed they might be at the beginnings of making that happen for her. By the time the women had finished their supper it was decided. Vloria would go and see the wizard to view the parchment herself, confirm that it was in fact what they hoped. Once that was done, Vloria would use her best judgement of what to do next to server her goddess.

Vloria donned her cloak, and in the dark, took to the streets. She made her way across the city. Heading towards Snowsilver Moor, her destination was Freycrest Tower and the wizard, Alexander. The moon was high when the woman rapped on the door of the tower.

Irish Wolf · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Irish Wolf** on Sat Dec 10, 2011 3:48 am

Alexander

The city of Snowieview on the edge of the Snowsilver Moor, the eastern quarter, the Aunriel Republic.

Once the knocking had faded upon the only outer entrance to Freycrest tower, or at least the only one on the ground level. A slit was pulled open and a pair of bright eyes looked out. A voice, soft as silk drawn over steel and filled with a light hiss, demanded to know the knocker's business with the master of the tower. The answer made the doorkeeper pause, instruct the visitor to wait and slowly close the slit closed, revealing a clawed finger, covered in tiny green scales. For a moment, he, for it was a he, paced before the door, claws clacking against the stones, before racing off into the tower, legs pumping as he climbed up stairs.

Slowing only as he approached the chamber, the doorkeeper knew the wizard to be in, the creature stepped into a dark room , lit with only a few candles. Trembling slightly with fear, the reptilian chimera, made to have a humanish face and walk upright like a man, threw itself down on the floor, pressing it's face into a rich carpet. Others in his position, had simply been destroyed for disturbing the master about trivial things, while the proud wizard was meditating. He only hope the interest that visitor might create, would cause the human to spare his life.

"My Massster" cried the doorkeeper, "You have a vissssitor, a priestesssss named Vloria. She claimsssss to be a gift for the night, from the Lady Lucia of Maklail'sssss temple!"

Alexander slowly opened his purple eyes, as his creature stopped speaking. For a long moment, he did nothing but then slowly untangled his legs and stood up. Turning around, he stared down at the squirming reptilman, who was wiggling on his belly. A priestess from that infamous temple. He had never had many dealings with Maklail's faithful. Oh there had been a few fun encounters before but nothing that would have made The Lady of the temple, send him a....gift. It was about damn time the temples started recognizing his greatness and that particular cult, was a very very fine start indeed.

"Get up" commanded the wizard, snatching his silk shirt from the floor with a stray strand of magic, "Return to your post and admit my visitor but walk slow."

"Yessss Masssster" breathed the doorkeeper, scrambling to his feet and forcing his legs to walk slowly.

Slipping back into shirt and waistcoat, Alexander pulled on his boots and donned his coat. Running a hand through the raven wing colored hair on his head, he walked at a brisk pace to his audience hall on the ground floor. A sharp snap of his fingers, awoken the enchantments in the place, balls of a magical light appearing near the ceiling, casting a decidedly red glow about the hall, as the wizard took his place upon the bench at teh far end. moments before the doors opened, to allow his guest to enter.

Aftershock · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Aftershock** on Sat Dec 10, 2011 5:16 am

Terryn was surrounded. Not by enemies, no. Were he surrounded by some mortal foe, it would be simpler. He could rush at them, blades spinning in a dizzying blur, or strike them down from afar with his magic. But alas, the ills of society are far harder to deal with.

On all sides, the greed of those with the wealth to flaunt it revelled in finery. Ornate homes, all tastefully done in the latest style to sweep through the wealthy of the Lunian Empire, they were elegant without being flashy. These nobles were nowhere near gaudy enough to outright flash their gold, oh no, they were far too 'civilized' for such vulgarities. In such a religious surrounding, such things were frowned upon you see. Modesty and charity were valued highly. Unfortunately, despite how very dear they are to those with affluence, they are rarely held in practice, as the more 'common' people of the city could attest.

Despite the clean streets, and the well-dressed members of 'high society', one did not have to look far to see the poverty sitting right beneath the very nose of the Lunian Temple itself. Beggars would never be allowed on these streets, but as soon as the noble district diluted into the commons, they were rife. Poverty is a big issue in the city that holds the golden Lunian temple. Ironic, no? Alas, listen to how I go on, Terryn thought to himself. With talk like that I shall be an old geyser far before my time. I cannot fault these people. Many of them are good men and women, who have done their share of kindness. It is human nature to ignore that which we find too much to deal with.

Terryn gave a gentle nudge to his horse, using his legs to guide it. The creature was finely trained, a true warhorse and well worth the gold it had cost. It came to a gentle stand still, and Terryn slipped out of the saddle. As he looked upon the temple itself, he let his travel cloak slip off, revealing the golden helm beneath. A fine work, of two of the finest smiths in the land, it's smooth face was marred by no eyes hole, or any visible space for the air which Terryn breathed to slip in. Glittering resplendently on the helms face, an angel of silver spread it's wings. The challenge it lay down was clear; this man is blessed by the Goddess Luna, a warrior not to be taken lightly. There was no hint of rain in the air, so Terryn slipped the cloak off completely, stuffing it into one of the packs on his warhorse's side.

Glancing over his shoulder, Terryn saw the stunned face of the stable boy who had, only moments before, been approaching him with the indifference he would approach any of the servants of the temple with. Seeing now the ornate armour in which Terryn was clad, the boy sped up a great deal. As though the magic that radiated off the finely crafted armour wasn't enough to set off an air of something vaguely mystical, the smooth face of the helmet, with nowhere for Terryn to see out of, made him seem otherworldly. It had an interesting affect on those not used to dealing with magic. The wide-eyed boy hesitantly offered to take Terryn's horse to the stables and watch him.

"Be careful with that one boy. He's a good horse, but a feisty spirit. Wouldn't want him to hurt anyone." Terryn slipped a few gold pieces out from his coin pouch, depositing three in the boys hands. It was far more than was due, but Terryn was in a giving mood. He turned and strode up the steps of the temple. None challenged his presence. The blessings of their God were clear to see. It did not take long for him to find the man he was looking for. Jozan von Carstein knelt in front of the orders holy texts, in the center of one of the temples many prayer rooms, worshipping the Lunar Goddess in solitude and silence. Fitting.

Terryn leant against the frame of the open doorway, waiting quietly for Jozan to finish his prayers. The man was devout in his faith, and Terryn knew he would not appreciate interruption.

almostinsane · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **almostinsane** on Sat Dec 10, 2011 2:42 pm

Aedan

The city of Snowieview on the edge of the Snowsilver Moor, the western quarter, the Aunriel Republic

Snowieview was a pretty standard city, in Aedan's experience. Its wall and important buildings such as the homes of the rich, the monasteries and churches, temples, and upper-class inns and shops were made of stone, usually as white as snow, while the homes of the poor and less important buildings were wooden, Merchants and traders vied for the attention of those whom they thought may purchase their goods, and people were pressed together like too many rabbits in a den. This gave way to a small feeling of claustrophobia for the Ranger, but he was spared the worst of the crowds by the fact that he was clearly armed knew how to use said arms.

As he approached Byley Tower, the crowd thinned further. After all, not many worked in that place and it was custom to never disturb a wizard or witch unless one had business with him or her. A wise custom given the behavior of wizards lesser in esteem than the Master of Byley Tower. Nonetheless, Theodric was a relatively benign wizard, albeit, one with his nose pressed against a book, though that was normal for magic users at his age. Nonetheless, Aedan respected the older man, which was why he did business with him.

Two guardsmen at the door of the tower moved to intercept the mercenary, "Halt. State your business."

"I have information for your Master," he stated, ignoring the indignant looks they gave him.

gezzygezzy · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **gezzygezzy** on Sun Dec 11, 2011 12:05 am

When she opened the door the smell mof cinnamon filled her nose and was so strong she actually coughed a few times. Walking into the kitchen she saw her mom, and the stove, and food. She looked aorund for a fire of some sorts. After figuring out there was no fire she asked her mom while waving at the air to clear it so she could breath.
"What are you doing? You never cook."
Her mother put her hands on her hips and said,
"I do so. Remember that one time I made...well, almost made cookies."
"You almost burned the house down," mumbled Luna. Peaking into the stove she frowned. Were cookies supposed to be black?

Her mother saw her look and glanced at the cookies. She did a little squeal when she saw them and quickly pulled them out. Burnt, again.
"It's blacker than hair," her mother said. From anyone else she would have been offended or hurt, but it was normal and she wasn't judged by her mom. She cast another glance towards the river that was now just a shadow in the distance. The tugging feeling was back and it was stronger.
'Go, you have to.'
She twirled around when she heard that. It was that imaginary voice from earlier. Nothing, yet why would she expect there to be something. She was going crazy, and it was coming from what seemed like inside of her, almost like her own thoughts but more distinct like a voice.
'I AM NOT IMAGINARY!'
said the voice and she held her head from the pain of the words. The force had given her a migrain and her mother looked at her oddly.
"Everything okay sweetie?"
She managed to smile and said,
"Yeah, I think I'm just going to take a walk,"
She left and said something into thin air, not quite expecting an answer.
"Who are you?"
'Well I'm certainly not you're imagination. I am much to brilliant for that limited source in your puny brain.'
Anger flared in her but she didn't know why, she should be having one of those attacks that people got when they were seniors.
"Well you certainly aren't as nice as my imagination would have made you."
She thought she heard a small mumble about years ignored and had a reason to be grumpy, being all lonley but she kept walking, not minding that she had gotten it to shut up, even if she had done so rather rudely.

EbonDruid · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **EbonDruid** on Sun Dec 11, 2011 7:10 am

Patrick
Fevriona, border of the Lunian Empire and the Aunriel Republic

Ah, Fevriona. Nothing but a small town, a couple of dozen two-story houses nestled between two hills, straddling a fast-rushing gully. Too far out of the way for the war to affect it, the people of Fevriona saw themselves as their own people, and payed little attention to the affairs of the two nations.
That is not to say that the town had not been influenced over the last two years. The streets were still dirt, and two wooden footbridges still spanned the tiny river. The houses still had thatch roofs and the cottage that had been burnt to the ground two years ago had never been rebuilt. But some things had changed. There was now a Lunian Temple, small as it was, and staffed only by an elderly priest, kindly enough. And there were a few more graves in the graveyard than there had been in the past.

Patrick Vainhill sat aside his placid horse, half-harp in hand. He was the only person in the streets at this ungodly pre-dawn hour, but smoke rose from the chimneys of houses around him. He rode past the church, where he could hear the priest's voice, calling prayers to the Lunian Goddess. He passed by the bakery, of which the proprietor was hard at work. He also passed by the burnt-out cottage at the edge of town. He stopped there for a moment, looking down at the ground, before he continued on.
After he'd left the village behind, he followed a game trail through a patch of forest to a clearing. There was another small cottege with unmorated stone walls, and wooden slats for a roof. Patrick had made those slats himself. As he dismounted, a woman exited from the building. She had blonde hair, the colour of daffodils, and wore a hemp robe dyed black the way hedge-witches are wont to do. She carried in her arms a basket, ready to be filled with vegetables and fruits that would make the day's meals.
"Ysolde, I have returned." Patrick said.
The hedge-witch smiled in return. "Tyge, I have not seen ye in quite a-while. Enter, boy, sit, make yeself tea. I'll fetch some food for us."
Patrick nodded and entered the small hut. It was one room, with a large hearth and all manner of dried herbs hanging from the wooden beams supporting the ceiling. A low double bed took up a quarter of the room, and a rug, a table, and a couple of chairs meant the room was almost overcrowded. Patrick set the kettle on the fire and picked a couple of herbs from the roof. He remembered this tea well. It had nursed him back to health when he...
... well, he didn't like to think about that.

SkullsandSlippers · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **SkullsandSlippers** on Sun Dec 11, 2011 5:25 pm

Vloria waited. Dark eyes stared at the door, she knew the servant would be back but granting her entrance was the unknown. Eventually the door opened for her. A man-like reptilian being ushered her in. Vloria stepped inside the door.

The room was a small, simple entrance room. Vloria wondered how long the wizard would make her wait. Apparently the wait was not to be a long one as the servant led her to a set of double doors. Opening them, the creature stepped aside to allow the priestess inside the audience hall.

Vloria’s eyes took in the room. The wizard, Alexander was sitting on a bench at the far end of the room. Her eyes adjusted to the odd light. Everything had a red glow to it. Vloria smiled slightly, the wizard was obviously fond of atmosphere. Vloria walked slowly across the spanse of the room, her hips swaying under her cloak. Her hood covered her facial features but her eyes took Alexander’s form as she moved towards him.

He was young looking, maybe slightly older than she was. Loose black hair fell about his face and shoulders. Alexander sat, straight backed as if a king in his own mind. Red silk complimented his dark hair. What caught Vloria’s attention however were the purple eyes that watched her move.
Her eyes shifted just slightly to take in the items that sat around the room. There, to his right she caught sight of the item she was here to see. Encased and on a pedestal, just as her client had told her. As she moved closer she could make out the decidedly odd script on the page. Yes, indeed it was something she needed to have a closer look at.

Stopping just in front of him, Vloria raised her chin but did not remove her hood. “Well met my lord wizard. I come as a gift from my mistress, the Lady Lucia. It has been some time since you have graced our halls or made use of our services. The lady fears we have offended thee.” Lucia had been very specific about this man. Alexander was cocky and arrogant, decidedly in control and power hungry. If Vloria could manage it, he would be a useful and extremely powerful ally in opening the portal. After all, one needed a wizard to use the spell.

Pulling back her hood, Vloria met the man’s gaze. Her dark hair fell softly around her shoulders and the cloak opened slightly to reveal her green corset and skirt. Silver bracelets shone slightly in the red magical light on each of her wrists.

“My lady wonders if perhaps a man with your power has stayed away due to the nature of your particular...” Pink lips turned up in a knowing, wicked smile as she continued. “...tastes. She felt that maybe you would be more comfortable within your own walls to do as you pleased. I am here as her gift to you, for one of power deserves to have his needs catered to. She hopes this will please you.”

Vloria was stroking the man’s ego. Being coy and innocent would not do with a man like Alexander. She licked her lips lightly, hoping that he was watching them and not her eyes as they again shifted to the encased parchment. She wondered if the man knew what that half piece of a spell was for or the potential it possessed.

Her eyes met his again. He was taking his time to respond. She expected nothing less and patiently Vloria stood in his presence allowing the man to soak in the compliments she had bestowed upon him.

Irish Wolf · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Irish Wolf** on Sun Dec 11, 2011 8:42 pm

Alexander

The city of Snowieview on the edge of the Snowsilver Moor, the eastern quarter, the Aunriel Republic.

The smooth, neutral expression on the wizard's handsome face split into a pleased smile, as the priestess finished her flattering speech, filled with promises for the evening. His absence from her temple was not caused by any offense from the faithful (a rare oddity for interactions between the magically gifted and clerics) but rather he had simply been busy. Weeks might pass him by without noticed, as he scoured a new spell book for magical workings he had not yet learned and then spending time to master them. Or he, like many a master wizard, would spend long hours, crafting protections about his tower and items, building layers upon layers of spell work in jealous fear others will try to take them.

Her hopes, that his eyes were not watching hers, while the priestess took a moment to study one of those treasures, were for filled. Alexander's sharp violet eyes were taken with the tip of her tongue, running along her full lips, before they shifted to study the teasingly and slightly revealed garments, she was wearing. Very easy on the old viewing orbs but that was almost to be expected from the order she was a part of. He couldn't help but wonder what be hidden under the clothing, whats scars or bodily modification she might have undertaken, to please her cruel goddess.

He slowly got to his feet, standing over the pretty gift he had been given. There was only about four inches of difference between them but with the enchantments in the room and upon his coat, the soft rich but unidentifiable fabric shifting around him, made the magic user seem to tower above her. Reaching out, his lips moved slightly, whispered arcane words under his breath, he stroked her throat with the very tips of his long fingers. Arches of blue electricity jumped between his fingernails and her skin.

"You must tell Lady Lucia" said Alexander, in a smooth but strong tone, "She has my many thanks for such a lovely gift, when you finally do return to the temple and that I will make an effort not to get so caught up in my never ending work, so that I might visit your halls again. Come child, tell me your name, while we retire to my chambers."

Theodoric

The city of Snowieview on the edge of the Snowsilver Moor, the western quarter, the Aunriel Republic, that morning

"You and a score of others already today" said the younger of the pair of guards, armed only with smooth, plain wooden staffs, "What makes your information so special?"

Before the mercenary could reply, the older of the pair, a little gray in his trimmed beard smiled and winked to the visitor. He had work there long enough, to have seen the man before, normally when there were more artifacts to be gathered, then the tower's master could go after himself. Tapping the younger man on the shoulder, the gray beard reached into the door and touched the rune, which dropped the protective spells. Just because a wizard's door was open, didn't mean he had an open door policy.

"Go on in Aedan" said the guard, who's name was Perrin, "Master Theodoric said he was going to be on the first floor library today."

Saxious · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Saxious** on Sun Dec 11, 2011 9:34 pm

Jozan von Carstein

Jozan stood up, finishing his prayers, made the symbol of Lunia and turned to see Terryn standing at the entrance to the Temple. “Lunia be blessed!” he said as he quickly walked towards Terryn, arms opened in a greeting. “I was starting to fear you had never received my letter, please, please, Ser Terryn. Walk with me.”

Jozan insisted that the two were to walk down a specific hallway while they talked, “As I wrote in my letter, the Saint Hector Order wishes to see you a member. You share many ideas with their seniors, one being the prevention of Netharzeem’s return, and that is why we want you to come along,” Jozan came to a halt and gave a quick look up and down the hallway. To the untrained eye, it would appear as if they were alone by coincidence, but to those who knew where to look, they would see servants at the end of each end, shooting warning glances to those who came too close to the hallway.
Jozan had clearly planned this talk to be in uttermost private. “Now, while there normally are ceremonies, vows and speeches to be held, I feel the private urge to…postpone such events. I took the liberty and had you registered within the Order’s archives.”

Jozan then pulled out an amulet; it had the Hammer Insignia of the Saint Hectar Order, and on the back if had a golden VI on it, Terryn would hold a knightly rank if he decided to join the Order’s council. “Before you take it, remember this: ‘you shall never show any mercy, give any quarter and expect nothing in return. You will be silent and deadly as poison and strike at the heart of the enemies of this world. As the forefathers have done, so shall you.’ ” Jozan quoted, saying the same words he had been told when he was initiated into the Order, yet his words were empty when he spoke them, more of a second-chance for Terryn to reject the offer of becoming a member of the Order.
Jozan held a lesser rank, and though his face remained neutral his eyes still gleamed with the jealousy of seeing someone like Terryn gaining such a higher rank than himself and so quickly.

Aftershock · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Aftershock** on Mon Dec 12, 2011 6:38 am

Terryn

Terryn regarded Jozan curiously. He'd been asked to join the Saint Hector Order before, by a member far closer to him. Richard Montgomery. His father's best friend, he had taken Terryn in when he was orphaned. Yet Terryn had refuted his offer of joining the Order, opting rather to be free-lance. Jozan had no reason to expect that Terryn would accept. Besides, Terryn knew Jozan. Though a good man at heart, he would be loathe to offer a rank above his own so freely. Which meant one thing.

It wasn't coming freely.

Whatever was going on, the Order thought it incredibly important. Important enough that they needed him on the job, and that they needed to know that they could trust him completely. The fact that he had proven himself before but they were still hesitant to trust him on this, and that this was being held in such secrecy that it was even being hush-hush within the Order itself meant that whatever was going down, it was big. Which was worrying. He held the same views as the Order, mostly, but if they couldn't even trust this to some of their own members, how could Terryn? And there was no way he was going to be a lapdog to someone he couldn't trust. Certainly, he was with them for now, but he was going to be keeping his eyes open.

Fortunately, the helmet Terryn wore betrayed no sign of what was going through his head. All Jozan could see was a blank silence, a hidden mind calculating it's next words.

"I have a condition. I will join with you, in recognition of our common goals, but this is an honorary title. You may ask much of me, and I the Order, but there are no shackles that tie us. I am still my own agent, and the Order shall not be held accountable for me should I decide that our paths must split." Terryn clasped the amulet in his hand, and raised his other to gently touch the silver angel upon his helm.

"Lady Luna, Goddess of the Moon, it is to you that this temple and this order are dedicated. Now I, Terryn, shall take up the hunt of evil, especially those that would see Netharzeem return.I shall show them no mercy, grant them no quarter, and expect none in return. I shall be a deadly plague upon our enemies, raining down upon them in a blessed purge. As the forefathers have done, so I shall do better. You are my witness Lady Luna, for I carry your blessing with me."

Not the Oath of the Order, Terryn had made his own prayer to their Goddess. He would hunt with them, but not serve them. He would make a far more valuable ally than servant. Turning to Jozan, Terryn spoke to him.

"Now, what have you called me for? What have you learnt?"

gezzygezzy · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **gezzygezzy** on Mon Dec 12, 2011 3:17 pm

Luna stopped in front of the bridge and looked off to the council. She would never join them, even though she had more potential than three of the others combined. She couldn't control it, which made it useless. Suddenly she felt somebody else around and stiffened, thinking it might be somebody coming to rub in their wizarding permit. But no, it was worse, her teacher.
"Luna, I know this must be hard for you. I know how hard you try. But this has happened one to many times to not take some sort of action. I'm taking your situation to the Lunian council. I think it would be best if you came along."
The day had just gotten worse. She had wanted to go to the council but not like this! Now they would see her face, remember her for her incapability to control how much magic she used. Not even bothering to protest she nodded her head and he walked alongside her across the bridge and towards the council. She had no idea that he had meant now but why not? Just add on to today's disappointments.
'It could be worse. You could be stuck in your head'
Thank you voice.

Saxious · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Saxious** on Mon Dec 12, 2011 8:15 pm

Jozan von Carstein

Wait, this isn’t the Oath of the Order! The fool won’t be a true member then, even with the amulet. He won’t overshadow me, good. Jozan thought as he heard Terryn make his own oath. Jozan did his best to flinch, yet his inner satisfaction couldn’t prevent the small smirk that crawled up the corner of his mouth, quickly forced back in place alas he feared he had already shown too much of his own intentions.

“Worry not, Ser Terryn. I’m certain that the Order will understand your…Judgment. Now, please, lets cut to the chase,” Jozan said and flicked his finger, and the servants at either end of the hallway sprung to action, running to do some pre-designed order.
“The Order assigned a special group with the assignment to look for a permanent way of preventing Netharzeem from escaping his prison. Through, external help-” he said, referring to the wizards of the Aunriel Republic- “They’ve managed to narrow every possibility down to one final solution.”
Jozan pulled out a small letter and handed it to Terryn, “Here is a list of the equipment that those accursed cultists will need to open a portal. Destroy them, and He’ll never escape.
They say we ought to destroy everything on the list, for even if there’s one of these left, the enemy might be smart enough to find another way to open a portal.”

As Jozan spoke they came nearer a side exit, “Now, I’ve heard that there’s two wizard brothers who has dedicated their lives to hoarding enchanted items, hereti – I mean, books of knowledge, and much more. They’re roughly twelve days’ hard ride from here, but I doubt their tower will grow legs and walk,” Jozan said, sounding slightly uncertain with his last statement.

As the two men exited through the side door, they were greeted by servants who had prepared a small group of horses, including Terryn’s and Jozan’s. Supplies had been prepared and a small group of servants were ready to accompany them; Jozan was known to always make use of the Temple’s resources, even when he was strictly told not to.

“My servants will ensure that we’re fed and a fire burning while we ride for the Wizard Brother’s tower,” Jozan said making his way towards his own mount. The servants had loaded their own horses with more supplies than they had with Terryn’s and Jozan’s, anything from a small load of timber, to food, to water sacks even as far as simple axes and short swords if they were required to fight. It was a sorry bunch of servants that would accompany them; no doubt they were hand-picked by Jozan for being expendable for the Temple.

Aftershock · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Aftershock** on Tue Dec 13, 2011 4:03 am

Terryn

Terryn unfolded the slip of paper, committing to memory it's contents. It would be difficult to locate both pieces of the summoning spell, and dispelling it wouldn't be a breeze either, but it was doable. The staff of power should be easier to relocate, though harder to permanently seal away. The amulet of protection though? The creation of such a thing would be hard to prevent... Terryn held ties amongst the dwarves, but somehow convincing all their smiths not to craft such a thing? That would be nigh on impossible. Oh well. Songs are not sung about heroes with easy tasks.

"Hang on a sec". A thought had just occurred to him. "Wizard brother's? You aren't by any chance speaking of Alexander and Theodoric of Snowieview?" The expression on Jozans face made clear that he was. Terryn broke into laughter. His was a warm, usually contagious laugh, but Jozan clearly didn't see what was so funny. "Well then, it's a good thing you brought me along!" he chuckled, "you're a good man Jozan, but I think that in you're devoutness, you'd struggle to get on with the pair of heretics! I know them well though - and so I should. They are my uncles after all. I learnt much studying under them. I've been meaning to visit them for awhile, go over the enchantments on this armour with them. Funny how fate weaves it's way around us."

Terryn suspected that Jozan didn't approve of the joviality in his voice, in face of such matters, but he didn't really care. The world is always ready to fling doom and gloom to crush you. May as well smile at it. Terryn mounted his horse, turning to glance around at the procession of servants that were set to accompany them. They weren't a particularly impressive sight. If something happened along the way, either Terryn would have to be the one to protect them, or the servants lives would be forfeited - neither of which he approved of.

"Jozan, do we really need so many to accompany us? They'll only slow us down. I propose that we merely take some of the water sacks and dried meat, and go just the two of us. If we ride hard and use Thorongeir's pass, I can get us to Snowieview in nine days. The servants will merely slow us down, and make us to big of a target for whatever creature has most recently taken residence above the pass." Terryn could see hope flair in some of the servant's eyes, a chance that they may not have to cater to the two rider's every whim for the next twelve days of riding.

gezzygezzy · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **gezzygezzy** on Tue Dec 13, 2011 7:20 pm

Luna almost broke out in a run when they went through the doors of the council's chamber. The walls towered over her, making her seem like an ant in the world. But of course, her teacher didn't seem to mind at all. She was certain he enjoyed torturing her, certain of it. Their were some chairs by the door and he ushered her to a seat, she grudgingly took it. Certain that he was enjoying it.

A servant passed by and Mr. Helansor waved him over.
"Go inform one of the council members that Helansor has arrived with his pupil."
The boy rushed off and Luna wondered if that would be her future, running around this huge, endless abyss from a simple wave of an elder teacher, certainly not in any postion to command. Probably not, she would probably be kicked out of that just as she was about to be banned from this. Not that she wouldn't stop trying, just that she would be in trouble if caught.
'That's the spirit! Do what you think is right, not caring what others put in your path!'
Said the voice.
"Yeah? Then why should I listen to you?" she thought.
The voice was silent once again, but minutes later said,
'You don't.'
That was a good point.

SkullsandSlippers · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **SkullsandSlippers** on Tue Dec 13, 2011 9:49 pm

Vloria
The city of Snowieview on the edge of the Snowsilver Moor, the eastern quarter, the Aunriel Republic.
Freycrest Tower

Vloria's smile grew as the wizard stood. She felt like she was looking up at him, even though he was not much taller than she was. Yes, he was fond of the show. One eyebrow rose as he whispered something. Fingers stroked her throat, small jolt shot down her neck as Alexander barely touched her.

Vloria's lips parted and her tongue ran along her lips. The shock sent ripples through her body. Oh yes, this was going to be fun. "When I am allowed to return I will be sure to let my mistress know you send your thanks." Hands reached up to release her cloak. It fell in a pool at her feet revealing a simple green skirt attached to an ornate belt. The striking part was the slits that ran up both sides leaving her legs visible as she moved.

Vloria let the wizard lead her to his chamber, her eyes straying to the parchment as they passed it.

"Vloria..."
------
Some hours later, bare feet padded across the floor of the of Alexander’s audience hall. It was dark now, the red magical glow having faded when the castle’s master turned his magic other activities. Vloria, devoid of her clothing moved cautiously into the room. She had left Alexander happily sleeping in his bed, using her small bit of stamina after their session to bring her to her goal.

Her dark eyes scanned the room. There was no sign of his reptilian yet human-like servant. She exhaled slowly. Her lips curled into a smile. Her goddess had been well worshiped this evening but Vloria had another job to do.

Lightly stepping, unsure what sort of magical warnings Alexander might have in place, Vloria moved to her cloak. She had left it on the floor when they left the room. It served a practical purpose. If he came looking for her, she was simply retrieving the garment. Picking it up, her eyes turned to the pedestal and the parchment that lay on it.

The crystal case shone slightly in the dark, a power of its own connected to it. Vloria dare not get too close nor touch it but she did peer closer at it. The writing, if it could be called that, was interesting and foreign to her. Lucia had given her specific things to look for. Vloria’s eyes scoured the paper. It was all there. Everything she needed to see. It was clearly half the spell they would need to open the portal. Her pulsed jumped slightly. Now, she had to convince the wizard that he wanted to help her open it.

Vloria licked her lips. Power. It would be a language Alexander would understand. Vloria stared at the parchment. So close to it and yet, it was just a small part of what she would need to give her goddess what she wanted.

Vloria straightened up. Her eyes sparkled with possibilities and her mind whirled with thoughts. Just as quietly as she entered, the naked woman made her way back to the wizard’s chambers.

EbonDruid · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **EbonDruid** on Wed Dec 14, 2011 6:18 am

Patrick

Outskirts of Fevriona, on the border of the Aunriel Republic and the Lunian Empire

"Play for me, Tyge."
Those were the words that Ysolde now uttered, as she had said so many times since Patrick had woken to her care. Patrick smiled and shook his head. "There will be time enough for music later," he said softly, taking the hedge-witch's hand in his own. They were so delicate, but calloused with honest work. "But I have missed your touch for so long."
Ysolde rolled her eyes. "Ye think ye'r sappy tact is enough to get any woman to fall for ye,"
"Aye, well, it has served me thus far," Patrick replied. He kissed her, and she giggled, backing off and setting her basket down on the bench.
"One kiss shan't harm nothin', but I'll be demanding a song after this." she murmured as Patrick slowly cornered her toward the bed.
"Any song you wish, my lady." he said. Ysolde reached up and unbuttoned Patrick's collar, revealing the ugly scar where he had once been decapitated. She laughed, but it was now that the kettle chose to whistle.
Patrick rolled his eyes. "I'll get that," he said. He moved to the fireplace and poured each of them a cup of tea, steeped in the herbs of his memories. "Tell me of this year's news," he said.

They talked, and spoke of many things. It had been nearly a year since Patrick had last seen Ysolde, and so they had many things to say to each other. Sometimes they sat placidly, talking over tea or carrot and beef stew. Other times they spoke not with words but their bodies, on the straw mattress of the bed. Eventually, however, the sun was set and they were satisfied both physically and intellectually. They lay next to each other in silence. With a sigh, Patrick rolled out of the bed and sat by the fireplace, which was now the only source of light in the cramped hut. He picked up his half-harp and struck a few notes, making sure the instrument was in tune. When he was satisfied, he began to play.

Long ago, in the realm of Man
When angels and gods walked the earth,
There was one voice, a creature so vile
That even his name carried worth.
Warriors stood and warriors fell
As this Dark One rallied his force,
Mages fought and mages died
While history followed its course.

The Netharzeem, the child of dark,
The Netharzeem, the preacher of Hell.
The Netharzeem, who ate children as well!
The Netharzeem, the Twisted one who fell.

"'Tis beautiful," Ysolde murmured as Patrick finished the first chorus.
"I didn't write it." he replied, still staring at the flames.
"That's okay. You'll write your own song soon enough."
"Oh really?" he said.
"Ay, and I've seen it in the flames. Yu'll be headin' to Snowieview soon enough, where ye'll be needed."The bard scoffed as she said this. In response, Ysolde crept up behind Patrick and slid her arms around him.
"I'm not going to be going to Snowieview any time soon. It's a boring place."
"Boring, yes. I am much more exciting. But ye'll have to go, and ye'll be leaving on the morrow."
Patrick turned to the hedge-witch, uncertainty in his eyes. "Do I have a choice in this matter?"
"In this matter? Nay, Tyge. Ye do not."

Saxious · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Saxious** on Wed Dec 14, 2011 8:59 am

Jozan von Carstein

Jonzan felt his throat tighten as Terryn mentioned his relationship to the two wizard brothers, the embarrassment was too great for Jozan to look directly at Terryn, even though he had a dismissive tone for his attitude. He felt the need to object against Terryn's declaration of leaving the servant behind, and that they would slow them down, though he reconsidered protesting against the man. e's more experienced when it comes to standing alone, Jozan thought and then barked orders forn the servants to have nothing but the most important goods loaded onto their horses, and then they were dismissed.

"I hope you know your path. I've consulted the best pathfinders in this area for directions and they were certain that we had to go around the Thorongeir's pass and through the Swallow Dale," Jozan said though he knew it was already a lost argument. Terryn was much like a statue, cold and determined when he put his mind to accomplish something, and that would be an advantage and a disadvantage for when they'd work together, Jozan thought, already playing with the idea of stealing the glory for his own benefit.

Open the gates! Jozan called for the men at the walls as he climbed his horse, and the gates from the Temple walls opened up the streets of the city. "Now, will you need a guide through these cities or can you manage?" Jozan asked, giving a small dare for a horse race through the streets. Perhaps not the most reasonable thing to do, yet Jozan longed to feel the rush of youth again and the idea made Jozan smile.

The Return of Netharzeem

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The Return of Netharzeem

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