Lance Elgard

Standing tall, holding his shield high, Lance boldly vows to protect and serve his King, his God, and his comrades. Defeating all that is wretched and evil in this and any other world.

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a character in “Calisma”, originally authored by GoodJobDino, as played by RolePlayGateway


Full Name: Lance Elgard
Gender: Male
Age: 20
Sexual Orientation: Girls
Height: 6' 3''
Race: Human
Class Paladin
Skills: His obedience to the lord had granted him special powers from time to time. He would act as a conduit between god and the world he created. This power allowed him to use the cross welded to the shield to cast a great light, repelling evil, and revealing it's true form. Something he was able to do only twice a day, and only when in possession of a cross, part of the reason he had one welded to his shield. And on occasion he has been known to be able to heal, from smallest wounds to great illnesses, but only with herb in hand.
Weakness(es): Trust. Lance trusts very easily. He tries not to let it get the better of him, but sometimes he just can't help it. He desires so much to protect and help others.
Equipment: As a paladin Lance has a seemingly impregnable suit of armor, which helps represent his unyielding faith. It glistens in the sun, shining of silver and gold with a blue inlaid design that seems to wrap around parts of the armor like a winding serpent. Matching it is a blue cape which flows from the shoulders of the armor. When it is not sheathed, he wields a broadsword in his right hand. But his greatest weapon, as well as his greatest defense, is the shield on his left arm. Just a bit bigger than his torso, it has a cross welded to the front of it, and with it he repels the demons and the wicked of the kingdom. Matching the armor is a helmet, from which a short blue mane flows down, and two small golden wings flow from each side.
Armor - Shield
Personal Quote: "Equity for the Meek with Perseverance and Strength."
Description: Lance has short blonde hair, gentle but confident blue eyes. He has very good posture, always standing and sitting up straight. When not dawning his armor he favors light-colored tunics, particularly sky blue, or gray, and his cloak is emblazoned with the symbol of the sun. He has a very toned muscular body. But he is not too big, not too skinny either. At first glance he may come off as a pretty tough guy. His pants are a fine leather, hanging just slightly baggy for comfort and agility. He had leather boots, which probably put another inch on him. They showed signs of use, scuffs, fading color. There were metal plates on the front of the boots over the area where his toes would be. The only noticeable scars on him are one coming up the side of his neck, and then a few on his forearms.
Looks sort of
Personality: Lance is a polite young man. Though he is bold and intelligent, his weakness lies in his trust. To him a man's word means a lot. And his is unwavering. He has a kind gentle soul, contradicting of his muscular body. He loves to laugh and experience new things. Meeting new people is one of his greatest joys. When he gets a moment to himself, you may notice his eyes wander off with his mind, looking to the sunset. Awaiting the next day to come and all it has to offer. He stays positive, and is always willing to learn, though he will not blindly follow something if he senses it isn't right. Because of his ability to trust easily, he gets close to people quickly. Which leads to his headstrong urge to protect those he is close to. And he would sacrifice life and limb to do so. In secret, he wishes he had a sibling. He would also like to fall in love. He is a bit of a romantic, in many ways. He sees the beauty of life.
History: Lance was not always a man of god. He once ran among the streets with a gang of other miscreants. A pretty common thing for a child in Thoav. Never did he commit any serious crime, but petty theft and vandalizing were very common on his rap sheet. He decided to change his ways after he and his friends sneaked into the local church one night. They're childish plot was to knock over some statues. They had done the deed and were running from the priest when suddenly he stopped. The moons light was shining through the beautiful stain glass window above him. He was struck with awe and unable to move. A gentle hand fell on his shoulder and he heard a voice, "I forgive you." A small statement, but one strong enough to touch him, and make him eager to change his ways. He now strives to be a pillar for his king and country, giving his life to the god Pelor. So in Thoav he stayed, learning the ways of a paladin. The priest, Oleander, taught him the ways of the lord, while he learned the sword from the local guard. The guard taught him tactic, while his time on the street had given him some experience in doing whatever it took to survive. After a few years he spent some time trying to reach out to children that were like him. Getting them off the streets, and into the house of god. It was much longer after that word reached his ears off the kings illness. Despite the wishes of his brothers and sisters at the church, he left for Paetax. Hoping to be of some help. Before leaving, the local blacksmith welded the cross to his shield, and dipped his broadsword in holy water.

So begins...

Lance Elgard's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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Word had traveled to Thoav, and to Lances ears of the quest to save the king. Without a second thought he was packed and leaving Thoav by ship, despite the wishes of his brothers and sisters at the church. Though they saved him a life of thievery and mischief, he remained a bold spirit. He would remain loyal to his god, Pelor, but that would not mean forgetting the loyalty he had to the king. So with a few fresh caught fish, herb, bread, and a steed he set sail on a ship headed to the harbor near Paetax. He took a look back at his majestic city as the ship pulled off, giving a wave and a smile to those who came to send him off. The priest, and a few of the orphans in their care.

It was on this voyage that he would hear tale of the prince and his dealings. "Oh yes." He sat at a round table, the smaller items on it swayed very lightly back and forth with the motion of the ships hull. He was joined by a few of the crew and a merchant traveling to Paetax. "What I hear is that the prince himself is leading a band of adventurers to save our beloved king. My brother in Paetax sent me this a night ago"

The merchant revealed a parchment which detailed the call for adventurers to a place called "The Black Vagabond". Promising much wealth and renown.

"This up your alley aye?" The merchant turned in Lance's direction. "Thought you church types were against such promises" He would follow this remark with a heavy drunken laugh, coughing in between chuckles.

Lance gave a sincere smile to the merchant after gazing down at the piece of paper, "Hm. This is the first I have laid eyes on this paper sir. But your news brings my heart great joy. For indeed I shall be joining the prince on his quest. But it is not riches or glory that I seek. As we set off, I looked back at a beautiful city, with smiling faces, that is what I fight for. That such peace will remain. That I will be able to wake everyday to a shining sun, a sign from the gods that all is as should be. And if that sun should ever fade, I will do anything to return it's light. No matter what amount of gold you promise me." As he finished this he patted the merchant on the back and stood up. Holding onto the parchment. From the distance as he walked he could hear the merchant speak, Yeah... well... I wouldn't mind a butt load of money in me pockets! followed once again by his bellowing chuckle-coughs that brought a smirk to Lance's face.

Lance walked his horse, Artemis, down the wooden ramp, to the dock. He placed the saddle upon it's back as well as the bags of goods he had brought with him. As he was brushing the horse the merchant approached him with intent. "Good luck. May Paetax bring you much fortune, and tell your brother I said hello" Spoke Lance to the approaching man.

"Yeah sure. You better get a move on there hero boy, your party leaves today. The prince leads them to the woods of Gaeric. Or sos I hear anyway. The merchant said with a smug smile on his face. He was skeptical of Lance's endeavor, but just couldn't keep his trapped shut. As if he wanted to see Lance fail.

And sure enough, he was right. Lance had reached Paetax late. It was confirmed by the barkeep at The Black Vagabond, after Lance had explained his past and intent, that the prince had set off already. But before he left the barkeep gave him a map to the where the prince was headed in Gaeric. "If you ride well you should catch up soon. A wily and odd group he took with 'im. Here, take this to." It was simply a note from the barkeep that he had found Lance to be on the up and up.

"Thank you. Thank you very much sir. You know not just how big a help this is." He managed to utter that much on his way out of the bar, and with the sun past it's peek he started toward the woods of Gaeric.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rydas Errion Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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Lance, sleeping soundly in his make shift camp, lying on a bedroll next to a smoking pile of ash that was once a small fire, found himself woken by a familiar sound, battle. It was faint, and he could not hear it clear enough, or see through the dense brush and trees to get an idea of it's origin. He rose, slipping on his chain mail, gauntlets, and boots, grasping his sword and shield, when suddenly it was over. The last sound made was a few disappearing footsteps. Silently he stood and listened, when from beyond a tree he saw a man come creeping toward him, grasping his side, he was draped in black, with deep red sash around his waist, and an accordingly colored scarf around his neck. The man did not approach with intent, in fact it seemed he was not aware of Lance's presence at all, Lance took advantage of this by slinking slowly behind a tree, hoping to remove himself completely from sight. Focusing, he heard the man's footsteps stop suddenly just a few feet away. Maybe, in the faint moonlight, he had noticed the smoking ashes or the empty bed roll. Grasping tightly to his armaments, readying himself for a probable fight, he heard the man collapse.

Lance peaked around the tree, making sure what he heard was correct, and sure enough the man was face down, barely breathing. Lance rushed over and flipped the man over, cradling his head. "What has happened!" Being this close he was able to get a better look at the man. Lance moved the man's hand so that he could look at the wound. "I will bring you water, and herb." As he said this, the man strained, and coughed up a little blood between trying to utter a word of gratitude. As Lance was about to rise, he noticed something when the man strained. He knelt over and looked closer at the man's neck where he thought he noticed a marking. He lowered the scarf to reveal a tattoo of a winding snake biting it's own tail. "You bear odd marking. And your garbs are made for sneaking around at night, for certain. What is your purpose here tonight? With what group do you make allegiance?" While speaking he brandished his shield, glaring down at the man. The man laughed while spitting up more blood, scowling at Lance.

"F- Fool." This would be the man's last word. His eyes became empty, and his body limp. Death had claimed him. Lance said a silent prayer before lifting the body and throwing it over the horse. He put the rest of his armor on, absent a helmet and began heading in the direction where the mysterious man had come from. Was not long before fire light came into view, pausing only for a moment for a deep breath, Lance approached through the brush, one hand leading the horse by the reigns, the other held up in a show of peace as he noticed many people around the fire. Some wounded, some tending to the wounded. "Please, excuse my intrusion, I mean you no harm, I happened upon this man creeping away from this direction." He paused, lifting up the head of the limp man's dead body, revealing his face, but the scarf was still on, concealing the mark on his neck. Lance scanned any part of the group he could, looking for similar marks. "I brought no harm to him, he passed from bleeding out on the ground. I was simply-" As he scanned the group, a familiar face struck him, and the fine armor, combined with the sigil on a finger, it had to be. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head. He spoke again as he rose, "My prince, I am so happy to have caught up to you and your adventurers so soon! My name is Lance Elgard, Paladin from Thoav. I have crossed over by ship in hopes of aiding you on your expedition, here." Without really thinking, due to excitement, he reached for a satchel on the horse and pulled out a parchment. "I was given this map by the barkeep from The Black Vagabond." he held it out, taking one step in the prince's direction.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Narenia Halen Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Acacia Winn Character Portrait: Mirabella d'Adreci Character Portrait: Nelinia Jaze Character Portrait: Rydas Errion Character Portrait: Attica Ninethorn Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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#, as written by Celedia

Mirabella wouldn’t have wiped the honest grin off of her face that had crept upon her lips in response to Acacia’s comments, even if she could. The Bard, despite the fact that she had most likely never participated in battle before, had held up quite well. The Triansui was shocked that even with the surprise attack and having no time to prepare that the group had fared as well as it had. She looked around briefly, walking a few steps behind Acacia as they made their way towards the Prince and before they could come to a complete stop, Nel rushed to their sides.

The tiny brightly colored monk was quick, that was for sure, and before Mirabella’s lips could part for her to address the girl’s concerns, the petite Nelinia was already clambering about with gauze in hand to patch the warrior’s wounds. Laughter spilled from her lips as she went to stop Nel’s hands so that she didn’t waste her supplies and she warded off the tiny monk until she could speak properly.

“Nel, love, I am fine. Honestly. Thank you for looking after me, though.” She smiled at the yellow-garbed girl before turning to Acacia as well. “It is good to have people such as your selves by my side after a battle.” If this was the kindling to true friendship, then let it come. The warrior had not trusted any one before in her life but that didn’t mean that it couldn’t happen either, right?

“Speaking of such things… Where is Nari?” Her golden eyes suddenly went wide with curiosity and a touch of fear as she pushed away from the small group, her eyes seeking the red-haired ranger even as she passed by others. Mira made sure not to pass by anyone that looked injured but she didn’t happen upon anyone with more than a scratch until she approached the group of wounded. It seemed that two had fallen and Nari and one of the mages had held watch over them until the end of the battle. A smile of relief passed over Mira’s face until she noticed that Nari was, indeed, injured. Lips parted as if to call out for the cleric until she noticed that he was one of the ones upon the ground and she gritted her teeth, moving beside Nari. A grimace now replaced the smile upon her lips as she looked at the wound. It was in a bad place and it looked deep as well.

“Look at you, Ranger, getting yourself in to trouble our first battle. I thought you would be dancing among the treetops and shooting from above.” The Triansui managed a brief smile and upon closer inspection, realized she could do nothing for Nari and it was then that she remembered the wildling, Attica.

“Forest dweller!” She called out, trying to find the woman that had brought the battle upon them. “If you are knowledgeable in the healing arts we could use your assistance.” Her eyes held worry though she obviously tried to look positive when facing Nari. "If she refuses, I will try to raise the Priest. Don't move, Nari." With that, she knelt beside the prone figure of the Priest. That was when a new figure caught her eye, wearing the shiny and well-tended armor of a Knight but his words as he addressed the Prince marked him as a holy man. A Paladin. She had heard of their kind before and she prayed silently that he was trained in the arts of healing as well.

"Paladin!" She addressed Lance as such because she had not overheard his name. "We have many wounded. Could you leave the introductions for later and help us tend to them?" She didn't even bother to see if the man had agreed and she assumed he would hear her since the Prince was only a few feet from herself, tending to the other ranger. "We have a cleric which is unconscious and another ranger with an arrow in the belly."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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Lance gave as much help as he could to those who needed it. This included gathering the scattered bodies and bringing them together, ready to be burned. Hoping that the apparent raid would end the excitement for the evening, he removed his armor placing it near his bedroll. As night wore on he took his place around the fire with the others, taking this calmed opportunity to get a better look at everyone. His eyes were paused slightly by the notice of a young red headed woman. He thought he recognized her but could not make out where.

As drink came to him he took it in well. It was not often that he had the chance back home. But he much enjoyed it. Everything about it. The taste, the smell, and of course how it made him feel. It always succeeded in lifting his spirits, even if they are not down. As he drank and ate, he listened intently to the words of the prince. He was still a bit in awe of the presence, many questions raced through his mind as he listened. But as the prince finished up. There was one that stuck out severely. One that he was, quite honestly, a bit afraid to ask. He hesitated, and in that moment the girl he noticed spoke. And as she did he finally recognized her. It was not easy for him to keep things to himself of pressing matter. Made him a particularly poor secret keeper.

She stopped speaking, and he knew not what to do. He did not want to be rude and interrupt her question, nor did he want to bombard the prince with questions. But seemingly without control he blurted it out. "Believe me when I say I am very sorry," he began, looking to the red headed girl, "but the pressing matter on my mind is... one of a more grim nature. My allegiance to the king is unfaltering, but as he is tended to, I am out here to tend to you, and make sure you make it home safely, whether we find this artifact or not. So I must know, are we prepared for failure? Should, for whatever reason, you return home empty handed, will you be ready to take the throne? And lead your people along proper path? For who knows what should come if the king should pass. And again, I apologize for asking such a thing out of turn." He swallowed, staring ahead unfaltering.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Rydas Errion Character Portrait: Geraint Magdohl Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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Akdov woke up with a thriving pain on his rear, he could remember having gone at the attackers armored with fate but at some point in time he had completely blacked out and lost any sense of his surroundings, he wasn’t dead that much he could tell if that was the case Rivaldi and Opal would be here to greet him into the Hall Lord presence.

He could figure that he was located in a tent, probably he had been knocked out in the skirmish and they had won, it would be tragic if their quest ended before they even knew what it was they were looking for… it was dark since the only light on his tent came from a lamp, probably he had been out for days now.
The priest dragged himself out of the tent and realized that while the pain was there, there was no strain or bleeding which could indicate that an exceptional healer had tended him… but whom? The rangers and the thief could know a thing or two but this was a work of a person who had made a profession out of healing, clearly they held nothing against Akdov`s skill but he was a cleric… to be able to attain this results without a divine intervention baffled him, maybe it had been the savage girl?
While it would be understandable for any man to go out and ask for questions, Akdov was not any man, someone had left his belongings outside the tent

I don’t remember having a tent; some merciful soul must be sharing

He grabbed his staff, which someone had apparently retrieved, and chained his tome of truth around his chest as well as tying his cup to his girdle. Again the priest was whole now, realizing that the group had been gathering around a fire and that the prince was about to make some sort of rousing speech

If it was as good as his last he should find a spokesman or let the bard do it

He made his way when suddenly his eyes saw someone, and a shower of memories came rushing back to him
“Deud be blessed” he said while walking incredulous “It cannot be… Geraint?” the man drew a smile and nodded “I has been a long time, not since the Vradakah, I should have known that you would come to the King`s help… Just as we did beforeWhen you didn’t show up I was beginning to fear you had settled with your family or kicked the bucket”
He sat next to him and clasped his hand as they bumped shoulders against each other, he wanted to introduce them to the rest of the crew but they probably knew him already and besides the price was about to say something important

As the prince ended Akdov broke into an incontrollable laughter “So it was there all along on the citadel of Idassava” he said to those that were looking at him trying to explain the source of humor, but without the context they were not clear on his amusement

Vradakah scourged half a continent looking for that as well and it never occurred to her to look there, how many homes would have been saved from the shadows if she had found it rather than terrorize the countryside in her quest

A man in knight gear then voiced his concerns about the prince and the king lives “The man speaks true my prince, for that I must implore you to take as little part in combat as you might, the hall lord would never forgive me if you fell before such a wasted old man who is living past his days.

Im certain the prince has something in his mind about the whole endeavor leading to nothing, I think that he would speak of it if he wanted to share it, for now we must all give him our support- As well as keeping him on sight -I beg all of you to put the life of his majesty as the highest priority, the nation is quaking with the loss of their beloved king, if the prince followed I can only wager how devastating it would be.
But as always prince, Ive got no questions I am ready when you are”

He then on second thought said “come to think of it I do have a question, it just doesn't concern the Panacea but rather” he signaled at the knight who had expressed his concern for the King`s safety “Who are you?”


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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Lance heard the old man's question but was lost in eagerness of the Princes reply to his own. Although he found opportunity in the inquiries of others to go and speak to him. He stood and, silently as he could, moved over next to the man, kneeling down to make eye level with him. He spoke low enough to not interrupt others questions, feeling a bit shameful still for having done it already. With a smile on his face he introduced himself looking into the mans eyes, "Good to meet traveler. My name is Lance, and I am a paladin from the city of Thoav." He stopped himself briefly by taking a swig of wine from his goblet.

"I heard rumor of the Prince's expedition and immediately made out to join the group. Unfortunately I had arrived late to the meeting at the Black Vagabond, but was given direction by the barkeep. Very nice man. It was during my sleep that I was awoken by the sound of the battle over here. After I had risen one of the bandits fell before me. He has a strange mark on his neck" He gestured with two fingers to the lower left of his neck. "It could mean nothing, but back in Thoav it was common for gangs of miscreant to use such marks to identify with whom they made allegiance. And now I find myself here. Rambling" He let out a solid laugh before catching himself and once again taking a swig. Wiping his mouth he remembered his manners, "And who are you? From your garbs you appear to be a man of god. Maybe..." He looked him over quickly "Like me... Yet at the same time not. But a man of faith none the less. The kind of men I like to surround myself with."

As the prince spoke, answering his question, Lance nodded with a smile. Magnificent he thought. This will truly be a quest for the ages. As he turned his attention back to the man, his eyes quickly caught the red headed woman again for a moment. But then he made his attention on the man before him.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Xan Hallister Character Portrait: Narenia Halen Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Rydas Errion Character Portrait: Lance Elgard Character Portrait: Travian Zarel

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As the prince finished his speech, a priest that Travian hadn’t noticed before began laughing loudly. Something about the man stuck out in his mind and he stared at him thoughtfully, zoning out slightly as some of the other members voiced their concerns.

“Who are you?” The priest seemed to say rather loudly, though whether this was because it had actually been spoken so or because it had snapped Travian out of his thoughts was unclear. His guts wrenched for a moment at being called out, until he realized that the inquiry wasn’t directed at him.

As the other paladin spoke it hit him. He had seen the priest around Paetax before drinking and/or preaching, Travian couldn’t think of the name but he’d definitely run into him multiple times. As a paladin he had the utmost respect for priests of any order and he had seen enough of the man's healing skills performed in the streets to know that he was a useful addition to the party….but…weren’t there any other bold priests available for this quest? Judging from some of the facial expressions in the group he wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Despite his thoughts he had managed to pay attention to what the other paladin had to say and decided it gave him a good opening to introduce himself, before he too was called out.

“Well spoken, brother,”
he said as he stood and walked into the open. “My name is Travian Zarel and I too am a paladin, but of Paetax. It would seem that we both arrived a little too late to be of help with the bandits and I am relieved to see you all in one piece.” As he spoke he looked around at his audience, trying to gauge their reaction to him, particularly the woman he had treated and Xan. He paused as he considered his next line, deciding it would be rude to hold off an address to the prince for any longer. “My prince, as a knight I have already sworn my undying devotion to you and your kin, but as we have never truly met I take the opportunity to do so again now,” He knelt before the prince in the prescribed manner, “my spear and shield are yours to command.” He rose and faced the rest of the party again, “I should hope that none of you doubt the word of your prince, however, I would like to say that though I was unable to see the battle for myself I completely agree with his judgment. That is no small pile of brigands over there, and I say with no ego that the addition of my brother and I should ease any worries you may have.” His eyes lingered on the injured woman again as he spoke the last part. “I am confident we will succeed.”

No longer a stranger, he settled down closer to the fire. As he sat he saw the remaining cakes and realized that he had not eaten since his early breakfast and hungrily helped himself.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Xan Hallister Character Portrait: Acacia Winn Character Portrait: Mirabella d'Adreci Character Portrait: Rydas Errion Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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She heard the Prince's reply and just nodded faintly as a reply, closing her eyes. Nari was tired and wanted sleep, though part of her mind wanted to thank the Paladin that had stitched her up in the battle. She hadn't even seen the wound so she didn't know how well he had done, or if he had healing powers to close it up on the spot. Either way, it didn't feel so painful. The last she heard was the beautiful voice of Acacia when she started to sing, playing on her lute as she did. Nari was thankful for having her with them on the journey, her music brought a soft relief over her. Then she passed of to sleep.

Her next sight was the ground on which she lay. Nari was on her side as she was woken up by the noises from her fellow travelers. Leaves in her tangled hair and with her cloak around her, Nari hurried to get up on her feet. There was no way she would let the others do the work as she just slept the morning away. She had just been worn out by the wound and the battle. "Vanir!" The ranger called and watched her horse trot toward her. "I'd half forgotten how big you are." Nari smiled and patted him, planting a kiss on his head. She reached up and stroked him, winking at her horse as if to tell him 'Good morning'. "Go. Go eat the days first meal." Vanir walked off, toward the trees and started searching for food. Nari turned and walked toward her tent, the scent of the jerky being cooked over the fire reaching her nostrils. It was a heavenly smell. She hadn't expected their food to be of this quality, but then again, they did travel with Royal purpose. And a Royal member. She could feel the wound on her belly, but it didn't pain. It felt as if the skin pulled at the stitches a little, but that seemed only logical. At her tent, she found her armor and her bow from the battle, the night before. She praised herself lucky for the fact that it was still all there. Slowly and with a little struggle, Nari began packing her tent down.

Once she was done, and everything had been put in it's right place, she called Vanir again, and packed her things on her horse. All but her armor. At the moment, Nari was only wearing the cloth on her body. None of her light plate, or the mail was on her shoulders. Or anywhere else for that matter. She sighed and took a deep breath, feeling a little dizzy. Her hands found the edge of her shirt, pulling it up to reveal the bare skin on her stomach. Nari traced a hand over the wound from the battle, where the arrow had gone in. The Paladin had done a remarkably good job, yet it nagged her that she couldn't remember his name. I shall have to thank him later. She thougth, setting her direction toward the way Xan had disappeared after the battle. Once she had found the small stream, or river, Nari knelt down and splashed water onto her face. It felt nice and cleared her mind as the cold water seemed to freshen her up a bit. Nari hadn't spoken a word to anyone all morning, and wouldn't notice if anyone was watching her for the moment. Maybe this is reckless, unarmed and alone. Her mind warned her, but she thought nothing more of it.

Her clothes were clean and her spirits lifted, and Nari headed back for camp. She walked straight to Vanir and put her arms around his neck, resting her head against him for a moment. That was until she noticed the Paladin that had saved her. Nari walked toward him, no smile but just a neutral face. "Thank you, Paladin, for coming to my aid." She said, bowing her head slightly. Although he had saved her, Nari held no ill will toward him, but neither did she trust him. He may have sworn fealty to the Prince, but that wouldn't make her drop her guard. Respect is earned, not given. The words had stuck to her all her life. With a nod, Nari turned again and made sure she had nothing left to pack. She would also have to thank Mira as soon as she spotted her, and had a moment to do so. Her ears caught the voice of the Prince. Nari looked at him, and shook her head gently. In her proud mind, their enemy deserved no prayers in their death. Not these cowardly dogs who had ambushed them from the trees, fighting with cheap tricks and low blows. As she couldn't find anything else to do, and most of the others seemed done with their own packing, Nari sat down near the fire opposite Xan. Should anyone need help, they could call for her. Starting a fire to burn the bodies couldn't be very hard, and she doubted that they'd light it while they sat and ate.
"Was it difficult getting on your feet?" She asked Xan with a smile, tilting her head at him. Due to her remembered manners and nobel birth, Nari didn't start eating before the last of them had arrived, or the Prince had given them permission. It was a strange thing to see herself not in her ranger attire, but in the clothes she wore underneath. Her shirt was a dark green, nothing special about it. It was short sleeved and made of cotton. Her legwear was a dark brown, made of leather, fur on the inside to keep her warm. The boots were the same though, reaching halfway up to her knee. Nari ran her hand through her hair, closing her eyes again. "Are you alright? Did you sustain any injuries from the battle?" If she was sitting there, Nari might as well talk to the man instead of just stare at him.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Acacia Winn Character Portrait: Nelinia Jaze Character Portrait: Callavan Sole Character Portrait: Rydas Errion Character Portrait: Geraint Magdohl Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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“I am quite alive Callavan, if poison, the gallows a serrated blade and a Riftwalker could not be my end I don’t think a stick stuck on my arse is anything to worry about, besides I have got an old friend to drag me back to safety if things get messy”

Now that the prince was done he figured it was time to tell them about Geraint “Ladies and gentlemen id like to introduce you to Geraint Maghdohl or… G for those who are close, in any case he is a shaman the kind that you would not like to find in a dark alley or anywhere really… he is strong as a bull and just as stubborn never argue with the shaman because once he is set on something only Deud could strafe him away… but few friends are as true, reliable and fierce”

Geraint had told him how he had not aged a day –That’s because I didn’t…- “Well I wish I could say the same about you, before you didnt look so goddamn wasted you old fart" he laughed as he spat the words... Geraint probably knew or at the very least suspected something... every time they met he always made the same remark

Akdov smirked at the paladin, this was one of the nice ones it seemed “Lance, good man we share a common goal and that makes us allies I will put all my abilities to our endeavor” it wasn't necessary to add how many times Akdov had been cornered and barely survived to the blades and clubs of the so called defenders of the faith “Fear no betrayal or secrets from me, you will see it coming if there is anything you should be worried about” there was however also something he wanted to ask of his fellows but had quite got the nerve to speak, but a Paladin was just the thing "Might I ask a little advice of you later lance? I am not the most formidable or sensible fighter maybe I could benefit from your directions"

The round up afterwards came easy, with the singing of the bard to sweeten their moods, she was good at it and made the priest realize that while she had no weight or utility in combat or practical purposes the others might as well see him as that, but she knew how to play a song and it soothed him, as everyone was making their ways to sleep he would go sleep under a trunk or something of the like, probably Geraint was going to sleep like a wild animal and snore loud enough for everything in a 20 kilometer radius to hear them all.

The priest mind came back to Ryja, never had something had pushed him so far, had she lived he would have probably forsaken his responsibilities to Deud for that maiden... but as they say... Deud has a plan for everything and if he willed for her sacrifice then it was simply meant to be,besides she made her choice and he had accepted it long ago

Even if I never agreed to it

It was good to have Geraint show up again, but memories of an unwelcome nature had surfaced as well... so many had died to stop the Vradakah and he knew it had been worth it all, even if a whole continent had to die to stop the mad goal of the Riftwalker it would be called a god damned good bargain, he was proud of what they had achieved... but it had left him full of sorrow, a survivor guilt and the longing of their company

He wasnt going to get any sleep so he might as well stand watch, he approached the prince and told him "prince, you might want to get some sleep I already got enough from that wound so im not in the right mood if you catch my meaning" the man didnt look in the right mood either, but as a priest it was the right thing to do, he figured he could lighten his mood too "You know, having two paladins a prince and a priest we could easily make a knighting here and there or who knows even a wedding ceremony" he gave a chuckle at his own joke, one the prince did not seem to share

Holy brew, the court of this one is going to be boring as the underlands

"Go catch some sleep your highness, Ill sleep when im dead"

The next morning he woke up to a discussion about what to do with the corpses, the monk wanted to bury them "lass you can not afford yo be so naive!, next you will have us tracking their family members to return any heirlooms, we`ve dallied here long enough as is and frankly we dont know if they have any friends in the area and if this is the case I wont be bothered to dig them a grave" he made a nod to the mages "let the flames purify them, they lived by the sword and died by it, only fair way to go" but a prayer was needed no matter how wicked the men and women might have been " Lance I think you, who did not drawn their blood would be the right man to say anything in the rites of passage for this wretched or..." he looked at Geraint "Well G could do a ritual for them... but they're not worth the effort of the man Id say" he scratched his beard and said "Ready when you are your majesty"


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Xan Hallister Character Portrait: Narenia Halen Character Portrait: Mirabella d'Adreci Character Portrait: Callavan Sole Character Portrait: Rydas Errion Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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She smiled when Mira came over and nodded, moving a little so she could sit down at a more comfortable spot. The ground was more even where Nari had taken a seat. She held a hand up to decline her offer of berries with their breakfast. Nari was fine with the bit she had already taken. "No thank you," She said and smiled. "And thank you. For partaking in saving my life." Nari planted her hand on Mira's shoulder and squeezed it gently, giving her a warm smile as if to make sure she knew she meant it. It had really meant a lot to Nari that another person had actually come to her aid. It also gave her hope that this quest might actually succeed. At least the group wasn't fully without a sense of unison. The ranger took another bite of her food and chewed, glad that they were at least offered something to prepare them for along days ride. The Prince had said they were going to Pyzer Lake. In her mind, Nari wondered if they were going to travel further inland, or if he would follow the coast along the bay.

She laughed briefly and looked down at the ground, giving a shake of her head when Xan told her that it was always difficult to get up in the morning. Fortunately, Nari had never had that problem. At least, not during the time she had lived on her own in the wild. As a Ranger. When she had still been a child -living in the South- due to her highborn heritage, she was allowed to sleep late some days. And the days she weren't allowed, she did it anyway. Her excuse was that she needed her beauty sleep. "I'm quite fine." Nari said and nodded, giving Mira another smile and then searched for the young Paladin who had stitched her up. She was unable to find him though. "The young Paladin was a great help though. He did a good job." She lifted her dark tunic once again and looked at the stitches. It was strange how it seemed so rapidly healed already, leaving Nari to yet again wonder if the young man had any healing skills beside just needle and thread. Her eyes were still upon the thief as he walked off. Nari too had noticed the escalating arguement between the Prince and the Monk. She gave Mira a look and wrinkled her nose at the mention of burning flesh. Nari agreed with the Prince though. Burn them and let that be it. She shook her head and ate the last of her jerky. "She's too naive. Too young, at least of mind." Nari sighed deeply and looked toward the Monk again. "I can't help but care for her though."

People came and went to the fire, eating their breakfast and minding their own things. Some of them gathering at the scene of the two argueing. Too Nari's own agreement, the Prince gave her an ultimatum, like you'd give a child, and let her stay behind to dig. He was under pressure of time and worry. They had to move on. "She'll scratch her nails off before she gets a foot deep." Another sigh escaped her as she stood and brushed her behind, ridding it of dirt and leaves. "We should probably get ready." Nari pointed toward the mage now helping them digging a hole. If that would speed up the process and let it be the last to hear of it, that was please Narenia as she was tired of hearing about it. As harsh as it was all put to the Monk, it was sadly the truth. They simply didn't have time to bury each and everyone of their enemies. "If by chance you'd like to, feel free to ride by my side. I'd like to talk to you, Mira." With that, Nari stood up just to hear the last words of the Prince Rydas. They were told to mount, and so Nari did after donning her armor and strabbing her sword onto her horse so it was easy to draw. Her bow was there as well, and the quiver on the right side of the horse. She gently kicked the horse and rode up the Prince, waiting for him to lead the way.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Rydas Errion Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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Lance listened intently to both the other Paladin's introduction, then Akdov's request. Giving out a chuckle he put his hand out for a shake and said, "I will do what I can. Please feel free to ask" He spent another hour or so out by the fire having drink and chatting. As he sat, he watched while the red headed girl went off to her tent. When Lance set off to bed he laid out his bedroll next to his horse and laid back, staring up to the stars. I'm really here. This feels right. he thought before drifting off to a silent sleep.

As per usual Lance's inner clock had him rising up quite early. As he did he did not notice many others stirring, so he figured it would be a good opportunity to get a good morning exercise in. He took from his bag a slice of bread, and swallowed it down with a few swigs from his water bottle. The taste of wine still somewhat on his breath. As he prepared his legs by doing some lunges he could not help but really take in where he was. The sun was barely risen and the sky was golden over the tree tops. He stood up straight and took in a deep breath of the air. It was fresh still, barely tainted by the stench of the rotting pile of corpses. He took one last look around before turning and beginning a jog. He wove around the trees, making fake strikes at the branches and trunks with his hand as he ran, and he did so all the way back to the camp.

As he neared there were more figures up and about. It was not until he stopped by his horse, chest heaving a little, to take another drink did he hear that there was a debate going on having to do with the care of the bodies. He decided to remain neutral for this, having a small breakfast to revitalize him, and throwing on pieces of his armor after packing up his sleeping area. He helped silently, saying prayer in his head, as the bodies were dumped into a hole, taking one last look at the marks on their necks. He stood for a moment over the mass grave as he finished his prayer, then turned toward the group, mainly the prince, and uttered, "So, what is the next step in our journey?"


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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Lance gave a smirk at the Prince's comment as he rode behind. "Not before I got you home Rydas."

For miles and hours they trotted towards the ruins. The time was filled with laughs and stories from all around the group. Lance even found an opportunity to tell one of himself before they made camp. Between stories Lance admired the surroundings. Even the darkness of the forest had entranced him, as it was the furthest he had ever been from his home in Thoav. But inevitably the sun would begin setting in the sky ahead of them and they would have to stop for camp. Confined to his thoughts he spent much of his time pondering how things were going back at the church. But then his thoughts would drift to the quest at hand. The many chances of success, and failure, and of the symbol worn by the bandits from the previous evening. He had seen many symbols of the same nature in Thoav, and figured it was the mark of their group. But he could not associate a particular group with it. So as they broke down to prepare for the night he suggested, "Maybe a couple should scout ahead, see how far or close we may be to the ruins. Maybe the mages or the druid could set up some sort of wards? To let us know if we have any surprise visitors. And of course if we don't have anything to burn we should search for that as well. I would volunteer myself for that. If it's not too much bother of course. I don't mean to take charge or anything, haha."

He was a little embarrassed at being the one to request all of that, but then remembered, "Would anyone have a way of sending out communication beyond our little group here? I have some suspicions about the marks the bandits had." He asked all this while doing off with most of his armor, hoping silently for a quiet night beneath the stars.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Acacia Winn Character Portrait: Nelinia Jaze Character Portrait: Callavan Sole Character Portrait: Geraint Magdohl Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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Everyone seemed to be all brisk business once the bodies had been "properly" disposed of, well, with the possible exception of the bearded mage, but it was entirely possible, even likely, that the younger man had expended a great deal of energy opening and closing a hole in the earth that size. As such his relative lethargy was excusable at worst. Still, Geraint waited, for everyone to get up and ready to go and then followed, acting as vanguard for the group on their trek to catch up with the rest of their fellows.

The old man didn't have a horse, and a combination of pride and newness to the group precluded his asking to ride along with someone. He hadn't exactly been much help with the body disposal, and wouldn't he look the old crotchety fool to stay behind, do nothing, and then have to beg a ride to catch up with the others? Fortunately, and Geraint had kept this thought well in hand before making the decision to stay, he had a "Shamany way" to handle the problem. While he'd waited for the others to gather themselves together, the little bear cub, her riding companion, and the others, the aged watched had reached into one of a number of pouches kept beneath his kilt, pulling from the soft leather confines two small tokens. One was a crudely carved depiction of a spotted cat, though it's eyes seemed almost to move of their own accord if you looked at it out of the corner of your eye; the other was a much more detailed little elephant, ridges, wrinkles, trunk and all, intricately worked with obvious care and skill.

Plucking a long fallen leaf from the ground, the old Shaman crushed the brown brittle thing in the hand not carrying the tokens. He kneaded his fingers a moment or two, before opening his palm and blowing the leaf's fragments over the two animal tokens, muttering something in a gravely voice as he did so, and squeezing everything tightly in his fist for a moment or two. Then without further ceremony, he popped them both into his mouth, completely ignoring the fact that they were made of wood and sparsely covered in plant matter, and pressed them beneath his tongue. There was a tingling sensation as they seemed to meld their forms with his own "dissolving" in the old man's mouth, and then all was ready. Including his compatriots.

When they began to move, Geraint took up his caber and stayed to the rear, moving in only a light jog and yet matching pace with the horses. The dual tokens he'd used served, as one might expect, two purposes, one was to allow him to move at greater than normal speeds, the other was to give him the endurance to continue for the whole day if necessary. Like much of his mysticism they could be used differently depending on the situation. For example he could have used the speed token to grant him speeds faster than most mortal beasts, but the charm would have lasted only a few moments, a minute or two on the outside, whereas this lesser modification would last him the day. Either way, the spirit within would be spent for the rest of the day, until it had had time to recuperate.

Almost surprisingly, making Geraint realize he was getting pessimistic in his old age, his group seemed to catch up with the rest of their party with little incident, and indeed the remainder of the day past in a similar fashion. Till finally the time came for camp to be made, fires to be readied and tents to be pitched. One of the knights calling out duties shortly after everyone had grouped up in their chosen place for the night's rest.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Xan Hallister Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Acacia Winn Character Portrait: Feylon Haradas Character Portrait: Geraint Magdohl Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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The monk was a naive, naive fool there where no two ways around it her idealism would lead her to an early grave, he could only hope she was on her own when it happened.

It was better to drop the argument and ride out with the prince, he felt odd seeing how Geraint and Callavan had stayed behind with the woman, it gave him an ache he was not comfortable at all with, the journey was long and the priest kept most to himself and to his tome of truth, he was reading the holy passages of Deud´s landing and how he built the great hall which would house all of the faithful for when the end days came.

Then at last they arrived at the ruins Idassava, Akdov could only help to wonder what had left it in such status... he was a bit rusty in his history lessons but he did not remembered the citadel ever falling victim to a prolongated siege or a divine intervention, the necromancer had one day simply banished, he knew that it had been destroyed in the Sortelige wars, but until a few days ago he didnt even knew its location... the most probable outcome was that Errion and his army destroyed it, but that would mean that soldiers under his employ would have good knowledge of the place, soldiers that the prince could have used and none of them showed up to give insight of Del Reyanth's property

I should have paid more attention to my history lessons

As night creped in he felt some sort of tension in the prince and his companions, maybe it was time to enlighten them with a history lesson or two "Say this reminds me of the tale of the Vradakah; Accacia maybe you have heard of it" he began "before the King was a king and magic became structured there were wars raging on the continent, it was a truly terrible time mages had only morals holding their power back, today if you dont have a guild sign you are taken as soon as they can... but before, before people could use their gift to be tyrants and have a monstrous advantage over others and their power paved the way for abuse

There was one in particular, Vradakah the Riftwalker a woman that was not entirely sane and on hindsight how could she?"
he almost dug holes with the stare he gave at the mages "As I have it understood, mages are taught in schools about how to properly harness their magic so that they dont become a danger to themselves and others, but before people did not had those guidelines... the riftwalker was threading a dangerous path... her power and magic had began to shatter the reality around her, the skills she had belonged to a domain of absolute horror, things that shattered the sanity of lesser men... yes, she was almost close to fulfilling her goal until..." he grinned and looked at Geraint, he was there, maybe he could give a better version than the one Akdov remembered, after all everyone else failed to share the love Ryja and the priest had "Some adventurers made short work of her, I wonder if those adventurers where like us... if the trials that they faced tore them apart or bound them together for a common cause which made them stronger"


The shouts woke him up... he had been having a dream at the hall and there had been a most exquisite roast, well that was there and this was here "What is all the ruckus about?" he woke up with his hair all tangled, a breath so foul it would move rocks and a voice so raspy someone could swear he ate razors last day... all in all he was looking good and feeling better

Apparently the prince was missing, Akdov would have dismissed that as him feeling adventurous but if the two rangers agreed that something was amiss he was not about to question their skills "Men of god" he shouted in a thunderous voice to his paladin companions but it seemed that they were busy elsewhere, he decided it was time to be proactive

He found Geraint half awoken and filled him in "The prince is gone get up!" he ran towards Lance´s resting place "Lance, his majesty is missing! get up we need to get ready"

Damnit, not again


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Xan Hallister Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Acacia Winn Character Portrait: Hayley Furdiligit. Character Portrait: Nelinia Jaze Character Portrait: Callavan Sole Character Portrait: Feylon Haradas Character Portrait: Geraint Magdohl Character Portrait: Lance Elgard Character Portrait: Travian Zarel

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He laid on his bedroll, goblet in hand, dripping the last essence of wine that he had missed, when it rang in his head. The voices echoed, but sounded as though part of a dream. That was of course only until one rang then grew louder, even in his sleep he tried to make out hat it was saying, "Lance, his majesty is missing! get up we need to get ready". With a thunderous roar it awoke him. He rose quickly and wildly to the news.

"What? Wher- Where has he gone?" As he stood, it seemed almost in an instant that he was holding his sword and shield. It took him a second to gain focus. Seeing that everyone was in a sort of organized panic he realized that this was not a time for battle, but one of haste in action. He threw down his weapons to begin donning his armor. His eyes glanced over the party hurriedly, making it difficult to make out who was who, what he did notice though was that he is probably the last person awake.

As he struggled to quickly make ready, another voice rang in his head, that of the prince, and of his own promise to him. A heavy breath of rage and guilt heaved in his chest. Immediately he turned and began shouting orders in a way out of character of himself. "Quickly grab a small bite to eat and drink! Let us try to quickly take down camp, let us not leave too much trace. Rangers and rogues, begin tracking cautiously if you have not already. The rest will follow your lead, with mages in the middle, and the warriors covering the rear." As he was about to put on his chest plate he first rested his head on his horses saddle, attempting to gather his thoughts, center himself. "It may be best to either release your horse or walk with it, as we must be extra careful and aware from here on in towards the ruins. If the Prince's cloak is still around, someone should put it on, covered by the hood, and pose as the Prince to not raise the suspicions of any who see us."

He shouted the orders while clearing his sad excuse for a camp, reaching into his sack to blindly break off a piece of bread. The walking will have to suffice for a morning workout. The adrenaline from being awakened so hurriedly made his armor feel light as usual, but he knew it would not last. Eventually the lack of sleep and exercise would weigh on him, but he could not show it. "You're now our head of defense" the Prince's words made him shake under his armor, but he had to keep his head up and his eyes sharp now. "I will not fail you again" he whispered to himself, sheathing his sword and picking up his shield.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Acacia Winn Character Portrait: Feylon Haradas Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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Akdov was shaken by what seemed to be a hasty choice by Lance, he had not yet had a good chance to see the group´s capabilities which made him wonder about things, was this his first time taking command?

"Lance?" Akdov aproached the man "Do you know any of these men? I was busy being unconscious on our last skirmish but from what I have seen right now we are in need of cool heads and distribute our formations accordingly.

We do not quite yet know what happened I wager it is a bit early but I think the citadel is our goal and properly manage our assets, we have two mages, a former soldier, a triansui, a professional scoundrel, a ranger huntress, one odd merchant, a monk a bard and two consecrated paladins.

By the looks of it the huntress is already on her way, she can be lead scout but until we realize what we are up against it is too early too manage our manpower, wait until the rangers get back to us.

I think the triansui and the soldier have military formation, they must be accustomed to lead in one way or the other, assign the safety of each of the mages to them, I think Xan is probably more used to urban environments and dealing with infiltration in man made edifications, well have to ask him when he gets here.

Travian or Geraint should lead our charge I can tell that they are reliable on that spot, the triansui and the soldier can be hold in our rear while we allow the rogues do their thing, whatever that is anyway, us and the mages should keep our senses keen in case there is something supernatural about this disappearance."
he met his stare and asked a much more personal question in a lower voice "tell me true have you ever been part of an exorcism before? I might be jumping to conclusions but we have got to consider the nature of the previous inhabitant of the citadel, if either you or Travian have had any run with this things before we would have chances that would make me confident, ill try to talk Accacia out of this, I would just feel better if she was out of harm´s way"

He walked towards where the bard was, currently engaged with the soldier in chatter

What was the soldier´s name again?, something about hard or felon

"Accacia?" he said looking to them both "good to see you are up, seems like most of us are, go to Lance so that he might better prepare our positions and... bard" judging by how well the monk and the woman were getting along this was probably as much of a spitfire "If what the rangers are saying is true we probably are going to plunge into peril head on, I just have to ask that mayhap you should stay in the camp if anything goes grim on that cursed place, it simply strikes me that the gift that Deud gave you was that of music not combat, id hate to see you go in and not out" she didnt looked particularly moved

Well time for advice

"Would you not agree soldier?" he told Feylon hoping to find some backup there


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Acacia Winn Character Portrait: Mirabella d'Adreci Character Portrait: Feylon Haradas Character Portrait: Lance Elgard Character Portrait: Travian Zarel

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#, as written by conor
Feylon looked at the bard as he processed the question. "I highly doubt he has come back. He is not in his tent, the footprints lead to the citadel and his cloak is resting somewhere down the path" as he pointed to the red fabric on the floor. Then he acknowledged the Priests question of the bard. Feylon turned to the bard and thought for a minute before opening his mouth. "While I agree with the Priest to some degree I do not wish to relegate you to camp duty. It will be dangerous down there. If you wish to come I will certainly not stop you." He un-sheathed one of his two daggers and offered it to the monk. Surely better protection than a lute and some throwing knives. Whether she took it or not was up to her and he thrust it into the ground near her feet.

As everyone began shouting and running off Feylon grew angry, People were beginning to be reckless about the task at hand. The priest had more tactical sense than he had imagined with some tweaking it would be the best shot they had of infiltrating the citadel. His anger however got the better of him. He cleared his throat and began to shout. "EVERYONE STOP!". He would not be responsible for the ones who had already run off, that was their choice and he wasn't going to strain himself to look after the ones who already left. "Right now we are heading into something unknown. Evil creatures are probably lurking inside the citadel, all of which will poses some kind of magic. We need the mages, the shaman and the priest for a magical defence and this is how we should do it. Up front we need two soldiers preferably Mirabella and Travian. In the middle of those two I recommend the shaman however it seems he has run off down towards the citadel. Hopefully if we catch up to him he can fit in. Right behind them in the middle is where the two mages should fit in. One looking left and the other out right to protect the flanks from creatures. However each mage should stick tight to the warrior in front of them for extra protection. Behind that I will slot in and the other ranger should she come back. This should allow us adequate protection for aerial attacks with our bow's. Then behind me again I would have everyone else in a semi-circular shape protecting the rear and closing down the flank's, with the other paladin, Lance?. To hold the rear line.."

Feylon took a deep breath and wiped his forehead. He waited to see whether anyone would listen to him so they could try an ordered and structured assault on the citadel. Otherwise he feared the Prince and most of the group would be lost to them and Feylon was not done with the Prince yet. Not by a long shot.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Feylon Haradas Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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Lance took Akdovs words very carefully into consideration. He knew he was no leader, it had never been his place and he had no qualms about it. Before he went off, Lance put his hand on Akdov's shoulder, "Thank you friend. Mine is not the mind of a leader." He gave Akdov a sincere smile and let out a great sigh. He could once again clear his mind, and focus on the task at hand. We must recover the Prince. He chuckled silently as he thought to himself, he did request that I burn his body should he perish. His jest was interrupted by the words of the ranger, Feylon, "the other paladin, Lance?. To hold the rear line.." He looked up quickly and gathered what was going on. His reply was swift and simple.

"Aye." Suits me just fine. A true smile returned to his face as he started walking his horse with the rest of the group towards the ruins.

As they approached the ruins everyone seemed to Lance, a bit uneasy. Even if it was only showing in subtle ways. The lack of organization worried him a bit, and of course there was a troubling question on his mind that he was not sure would get great response. it was before they were to enter the ruins, so he figured now might be a good time to raise the concern. "Excuse me everyone, but I can not wonder about how we are also going to handle the task at hand, which was to locate the amulet. I understand the desire to find the prince, find him safe and return him home. But I... I also wish to succeed at the task we set out for." He stood calmly, confident, awaiting the possible barrage of discontent. But he was ready for it. He did not feel that the party was ready to enter the ruins, not without foolishly losing their lives. And as much as he wanted to see the prince to safety, he wished this also of his king.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Acacia Winn Character Portrait: Nelinia Jaze Character Portrait: Feylon Haradas Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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#, as written by slcam
Acacia nodded at the ranger's words. She looked toward the citadel, quickly seeing the cloak. Now, more than ever, she felt the evil that eminated from that place and wondered just what awaited them there. She was just about to hurry off and help pack up the camp when Akdov came up to them. It seemed he already needed to state his opinion, loudly of course, so early in the morning. Acacia crossed her arms and listened as he voiced his opinion on how Acacia couldn't handle what was ahead. At least that is what she took from his speech. Feylon, on the other hand, seemed much more reasonable. Acacia nodded her thanks at Feylon before picking up the dagger and tucking it in her belt.

She took a small breath and calmly responded to Akdov, though there was still a certain fire in her eyes. "I knew when I decided to come on this quest that it would be dangerous. If I were unprepared and unwilling to take that risk, I would have stayed in Paetax. If expected this quest to be safe, I would have left after the bandit attack last night. Despite what you may think, I did not come here on a whim, just to play music and entertain. I know enough about Idassava to understand the magnitude of what we are taking on. However, I am ready to do whatever possible to see this to completion, and that is not cowering in fear at the thought of 'perils' and taking the easy way out while everyone else enters this 'cursed place.' I appreciate your concern, but you greaty misjudge my character if you think I will abandon this quest because of the danger that I always knew was there."

Acacia turned from the man, not wanting to argue, with a new determination apparent on her face. She quickly helped pack everything up as several people suggested battle plans. She grabbed Maria's reins in order to lead her on, and Nel quickly found her. Acacia returned the monk's smile with one of her own and nodded at her. "Neli." There wasn't much else to say at the moment, so Acacia said little. When everyone was ready, Acacia steadily, set off toward the looming citadel. As they drew closer, Acacia couldn't help but stare at the large ruins that loomed before them.

At Lance's words, Acacia bore a considering look. "I may just be a bard," she glanced at Akdov before continuing, "but I would think that, though our quest is to find the amulet, the Prince should be our first priority..." 'since he is the only heir.' She left the words unsaid, but they still seemed to hang in the air. It almost felt as if she had shouted them. She looked uncertainly at the looming ruins, feeling uneasy, but determined to find the Prince.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Narenia Halen Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Acacia Winn Character Portrait: Alice Sangera Character Portrait: Mirabella d'Adreci Character Portrait: Nelinia Jaze Character Portrait: Callavan Sole Character Portrait: Feylon Haradas Character Portrait: Geraint Magdohl Character Portrait: Lance Elgard Character Portrait: Travian Zarel

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Akdov was dissapointed by Lance`s lack of leadership, if he ever wanted to be a paladin he would have to accept that protecting is part of the task but so is leading and the idea of the soldier leading was not something he wanted, the man was unable to detect supernatural presences and could not distinguish if the events unraveling in front of him were to be fought by faith or by steel

"We have to move people, those that are ready prepare to move out we already have quite the lot of people headed in the citadel while I will not have anyone enter it just yet we must judge the situation from what we see in the outside and verify if Xan is back with news" despite how reluctant he was and longing for the comfort of just following around it was too risky to let others make choices that he should be making "Geraint already moved ahead, so it is settled that he will be our vanguard I know the man and can attest that he will do fine"

He pointed at the green eyed rouge "Huntress if Xan has failed to come back to us I want you as our lead scout, while I realize that the woodland might be more to your liking I hope whatever our scoundrel has unveiled can give us an edge, besides I can judge that you have some knowledge of first aid so I will be requiring you to assist me when my mending is not enough"

O shit what was her name?

"Mages" he said to Alice and Callavan "you must not under any circumstances find yourselves alone the advantage you provide is far too valuable to risk, Mirabella guard good Callavan and soldier I will insist that you keep the other girl safe, I will be needing the paladins on other roles due to their potential to fight the unholy if the 3 of us focus I believe we can heal wounds and purify the foul taint that the necromancer might have left lingering"

Some growled, some gave an approving nod and he realized that his own preferences had clouded his judgment, he had completely left out the 3 brats they had a spine all of them he knew

"Acacia I would insist, again, that you stay behind but if you must come I have a task well suited for you, I assume bards have good memory no? I hope that someday you will make a lovely tune about our courage here but I will ask you to keep a close track of the surroundings, take note of any icons or landmarks and the doors and paths we take I would not like to get lost there and that is something that would be valuable to us"

He then looked at the monk... part of him struggled to not make a smart remark of how she should be the headmistress of the rites of passing but right now he had to make bridges not pits "Monk I will ask you this, assist the huntress in whatever she might ask of you, I trust you are agile enough to perform under her direction" then there was the firecrotch, Akdov did not want hot tempers going to the Citadel with friends like those who was in need of enemies "Id like you to stay and guard our flank at the entrance dont want the enemy sneaking on our back"

Or you for that matter

"The paladins and myself will be in the center their ability in case we need either involvements of both arms or prayer we will be able to assist either the rear or the front in short notice" he looked at the group and concluded "Those that are ready accompany me to the entrance, the others dont take too much time but dont arrive unprepared either"

He had everything he needed, the tome of truth, his staff and the cup, he walked pondering if he was fit to lead... if Xan was around or the paladin lance had been up to it he would have been more comfortable with them having to bear the burden, if these where faithful then it would be different, but right now he had to act as the elder that he was and make his best to see them all alive through

As he drew closer however, the stench of something that simply was not right permeated his advance, he looked at the hellish citadel and it occurred to him that it looked more like an unholy cathedral which was a bastion of blasphemy to the faithful "Deud`s mercy" he told to himself, he was unnerved by the realization that the place was emanating something dark... in broad daylight

The prince did went missing at night did he not?

They would have to preferably end this quickly, he found Geraint there waiting "Were getting too old for this friend" he smirked giving some humor to a truth that was harmful to the pride, however in case he indeed didnt made it out he had to slip "G, look should things go sour... remember that I told you that before I became a priest I was a man of influence in Queran? I heard that my last wife had a child who himself bore a daughter later on, they probably are living off the wealth that I left them back when... they're doing good, just..." he saw how those that had accompanied him were giving looks to them "well you will know what to do I'm sure, just being a paranoid old man"

As they gathered around he began to prepare a rite, a blessing of sorts... faith would shield him to an extent, but would Deud be so benevolent to those who did not bowed?


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Xan Hallister Character Portrait: Narenia Halen Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Mirabella d'Adreci Character Portrait: Nelinia Jaze Character Portrait: Callavan Sole Character Portrait: Lance Elgard Character Portrait: Travian Zarel

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#, as written by Celedia
Time was of the essence and perhaps it was this fact that caused the next series of events to play out both too rapidly and too slowly for Mirabella. If it were to be recalled at a later time, the warrior might bring up a flicker of random memories. A pat on the shoulder by Nari as she passed to catch up with the nimble Nel who hopped through the dangerous arrow trap to head off on her own with Xan, another agile acrobat, quickly following.

There was the eerie stillness of the citadel, the odd play of emotions through each of her comrades as they too made their way via the mage’s protective spell towards the circular room. A few jokes were told to ease tension. The mage, Van, called the priest elderly which made her lips split into a wide grin before the priest cracked his own comment about kinky hands. If hers had even been free, she would’ve held them aloft for his viewing pleasure. Those free roaming touches wouldn’t come from her hands even if they did not currently bear sword and shield. The holiest man among them seemed to be one of the most lascivious.

Then the world paused, as if holding its breath before all hell broke loose. Upon entering the room, Mirabella’s mind couldn’t keep up with the calamity. Nel, seemingly frozen, was being dragged away from a vile creature that reeked worse than any place she had ever visited. Ghoul the word was either screamed out or whispered by various people and everyone battled desperately to take down this new foe. Only the second battle they would encounter and it had to be this… This thing?

Ghouls were notoriously hard kills. In all of the lore she had collected on her various travels or through her kinsmen there had never been any real tactics shared about the creature. Holy magic, the kind that her people couldn’t cast, was useful so the only options she was given to defeat a ghoul were slim.

Decapitate it or run for your life.

Its touch was paralyzing so she couldn’t get too close but still she had to do something. The priest needed time for his spell.

Keep it busy, she heard the priest say and with that she saw the ghoul being knocked back once more, this time by the stomach-churning display of Akdov vomiting upon the creature. Disgust roiled through the warrior’s body but they couldn’t hesitate. They had to keep the beast away from the others while the men with holy magic did their duty.

Keep it busy.

Mirabella held her shield in front of her and ran full force at the ghoul. Thankfully its movements were lethargic so even as it reached out its uninjured hand, she bashed her shield into the foul undead sending it staggering back another few feet and disorienting it briefly. Over her shoulder she called out to the priest and paladins, “Keeping it busy. Do what you need to do.”

With that declaration, she caught the eye of Xan, Nari and Van. Those with ranged abilities that could give the ghoul everything they had while awaiting the spell to unfold. The ghoul took another lumbering step towards her and she parried its outstretched hand away with her sword then tried to hack at its leg with a swift blow. Perhaps, if they could disable it then it would be easier to take down.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Lance Elgard Character Portrait: Travian Zarel

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Akdov smiled as he saw the group function as a well organized party with people bringing in sausages, others chairs and most of them booze... one of these days he would show them how to party hard as in the days of Ruglia`s age

Everyone was giving their effort to see the ghoul put down, if they kept it up they probably would not even need his intervention, but they were ignorant he assumed... they had not considered that once that thing had been human, that right now there were remnants of a soul trapped in that wretched husk asking for release, a task that Akdov felt it was his sacred duty to acquiesce the vows he had taken and believe in redemption

"Paladins" Akdov beckoned them close to his presence "the others seem to have a firm grip on things, I am going to perform an intervention to send the soul that inhabits that corpse directly to the peace of the afterlife, the soul has been held long enough by the body...It is time for it to meets its host" the next part would be the hard one "I will perform the rite of Sanskar that demands that you act as my acolytes and put your arms down while cleansing your souls of any intent of violence" he knew that demanding such vulnerability in front of such creature was too much "My staff will indicate when the rite is complete, until then the ghoul will be infuriated by my presence, it must reach me only when im finished"

With not a moment to spare Akdov kissed his tome and opened it, reciting words in a sacred language, pages from the book began to fly around him forming a circle around those involved in the ritual and his cup burn bright with a golden fire that very slowly extended from his hand... once it covered his whole body it would be ready, the staff that had been planted too began took its part as well as it latched to Akdov`s back acting as some sort of third arm as he held the cup in one and with the other 2 held the book and took pages out of it to join the circle around him

The ghouls eyes shone red and an unholy frenzy took over it, now more than ever its corruption compelled it to eliminate that annoying source of divinity... it would not stop until the priest was dead


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Xan Hallister Character Portrait: Narenia Halen Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Mirabella d'Adreci Character Portrait: Nelinia Jaze Character Portrait: Callavan Sole Character Portrait: Feylon Haradas Character Portrait: Geraint Magdohl Character Portrait: Lance Elgard Character Portrait: Travian Zarel

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#, as written by Celedia
Mirabella was grateful for the aid in fighting the creature. Geraint had helped her in taking down the creature and then Xan had used his unique daggers to chain the ghoul to the wall. Seconds were ticking by and still she had not seen or heard the arrow fire that the mage had crafted for them. Hadn’t he said they didn’t even have half of a minute before it would blow?

Turning her head quickly to scout out the area to see where everyone was, Mira caught sight of Nari with the spelled arrow still in hand. “Everyone back!” She called to the people still left close to the monster and with all the speed she could muster, she sprinted towards the female ranger while sheathing her sword. Plucking the arrow from Narenia’s hand she moved just as quickly back towards the ghoul, praying to whatever spirits were listening that she wouldn’t be blown to smithereens and once close enough she stabbed the arrow at the ghoul’s face. Her aim had been reckless and the projectile stabbed its way through the rotting flesh of the creature’s cheek, pushing the scrolls which were wrapped around its shaft up a bit until they were pressed flush against the ghoul’s jaw.

“Nowwouldbeagoodtimetorun!” The Triansui’s words ran together as she turned on her heel and raced passed anyone within spitting distance of the ghoul. At first, she thought that her rushed efforts had been for naught. That the arrow hadn’t worked for some reason but thankfully she had not turned her face to check. Within seconds of the thought of failure entering her mind, she was quickly proven wrong as a muted boom echoed through the massive room. Mirabella didn’t stop again until she was beside Xan and she finally turned, seeing blackened bits of flesh sprawled against the wall while smoke emanated from the spot where the ghoul had been chained.

Xan’s weapons looked a little worse for wear but that was probably just undead gobs sticking to the metal. It would no doubt be hot to the touch since it had been within the blast radius and while she tried to catch her breath, the warrior looked over to the Priest and Paladins to see if they had completed the ritual. The ghoul and his paralytic touch were no longer a threat but the holy men would no doubt be concerned over the state of the monster’s soul.

Patting the thief on the shoulder, Mirabella muttered a breathless, “Good thinking, shady man. Sorry ‘bout your daggers.” Then she passed over to where the monk, Nelinia, lay unmoving. She placed her round shield upon her back then fell to her knees beside Nel, casting a look at Feylon, the ranger whose name she still did not know. “How is she doing?” Her voice was quiet, worried, and barely perceptible to anyone but those nearest to her.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Narenia Halen Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Nelinia Jaze Character Portrait: Callavan Sole Character Portrait: Geraint Magdohl Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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A grim grin broke out over Geraint's face as he watched the ghoul explode. Despite his years of adventuring, soldiering, and the fact that he'd engaged undead in the past, that was probably the flashiest Ghoul kill he'd ever seen. The explosion making fleshy unliving kindling out the creature, which, like the fire itself, was briefly stopped against a translucent bubble of force before falling to the ground. The grin turned to a look of confused concern when he heard his long time comrade shout out a single word in anguish. "No!" Came the cry. Geraint's face whipped around, hair whipping his face as he his eyes landed on the old priest in time to see what the Shaman's experienced eyes realized was Akdov's soul fly from his chest into a portal not far away.

The Old Shaman's face turned ashen grey as his friend fell, not just lifeless, but soulless the vomit slick floor. The sheer shock of the moment caused him to remain still long enough for the unearthly voice of the Necromancer, presumed dead, now likely undead, to deliver her soliloquy, before he even took a step toward his fallen comrade. The crunching of stone beneath immense weight and the very faint sound of claws scrabbling, even digging, into stone, diverted his attention long enough to register the displacer beast's presence... it didn't matter.

It had been many, many years since someone close to him had been lost, and Geraint was unprepared for his reaction, he had to get Akdov back, he had to. Normally it would be impossible, but with the method of removal being the Sanskar, and with the veil between the world of life and death so thin in this sanctum of evil, the possibility existed that he could draw the priest's soul back to his body, and circumvent the Sanskar ritual. Perhaps it was that possibility that drove him to act as he did, foolish by any standard, he ignored the battle about to erupt around him. Ignored the call of the mage, the arrows fired by the ranger, even the shouts of the little Bear Cub. With a swift sureness of step belaying the frayed nature of his thoughts, the Old Shaman was at his fallen friend's side in moments. As the Six-Legged Not-Cat began to attack the others, and some of the group retreated to a defense position in the corner, Geraint slammed his caber into the stone merely inches from Adkov's face, the stone splintering as he drew spiritual power into it. Channeling his allied spirits into the caber and creating an anchor for Akdov's soul to hold onto, he just had to draw it back to this plane. He closed his eyes and shut out the battle around, the sounds of the Displacer Beast pouncing on his fellows and the fighting and shouts that ensued. He peered through the veil to find the recently departed priest.

In the most basic sense, there are two planes of existence. The material plane, the plane of existence that the average man or woman knew and experienced, and the land of the afterlife. But there were other places, other planes, and, most importantly for the Shaman's purposes, places in between all of them. Akdov had been dead only moments, the transition from life to death eased by both the ease of passage in this place, and the ritual that took the Priest's life. As such the Holy Man's soul would not have traveled all the way to the land of the dead. Reaching out with his thoughts and his unique brand of power, Geraint sought and found Akdov's soul, glowing bright and golden just as it had moments before, and drew it back toward its home plane, and home body.

Eyes opened, and the pained leonine roar of the giant Not-Cat reached old ears. Hopping back effortlessly on its five uninjured legs, the Displacer Beast backed away from the foes it had already engaged, shaking roughly and violently in an attempt to dislodge the yellow-clad monk so fiercely clinging to one of its legs, assaulting the beast all the while. Finally, with a growl, a barbed tentacle wrapped around Nel's leg, wrenching her from its leg with a whip-like motion and flinging her away. Geraint had only time to see that it looked as if she was sailing in the general direction of the Mage's net before the feline eyes focused on Geraint. It occurred to the Old Adventurer then that he was standing alone in a room, near a corpse, with a vicious beast that had him to choose from out of a number of small groups of people. His old eyes widened at the realization.

Time. "I need time!"

As if an answer from a god, and perhaps in in some ways it was, Lance came roaring out of nowhere, sword gleaming in the dull light, and shield glowing with holy power. Shouting a challenge and calling upon his god, the Paladin charged the Displacer beast, shield held forward, the bright white light shining from the cross welded to it, and something interesting happened. Where the light touched the Not-Cat, it seemed to shift from where it appeared to be when viewed outside of it's glow, and the Shaman realized that the Paladin's holy light was revealing the creature's true location. Satisfied that for the next few seconds the Holy Warrior would be safe, and his contribution would aid the others in the Displacer's demise, Geraint returned his attention to his reattaching of Adkov's soul.

The weaving was a complex process, the Sanskar ritual had ripped Akdov's soul from his body true, but Akdov's willingness had made the cut clean, Geraint needed to bind and retie the metaphysical fibers of body to soul, which would be easier if he had an unraveling tapestry to work with instead of a cleanly sliced and bound tablecloth.

The Shaman wasn't sure how much time had passed, it could have been seconds, it could have been minutes. All he really knew was that the process had been started, the life-giving threads were attached, but it wasn't nearly complete yet, when he felt himself flung forward by a heavy object impacting his back. He was flung forward, careening over Akdov's still warm quasi-corpse to crash and skid several feet away. Shaking his head to clear it, Geraint looked back that way, and his eyes widened, an agonized, snarling sound ripping from his throat. His caber had been toppled, laying over and possibly crushing Akdov, with Lance sprawled partially over it, his helmet gone and a great bleeding gash on his forehead. The magic had been ruined, everything was unraveling, even if he had the free time and lack of distraction Geraint wasn't at all confident he could wrest Akdov's soul from death's parlor room a second time... and with the beast causing problems, inflicting more death and destruction, it would... it would be impossible.

Beyond the, now pile, of corpses, the Displacer Beast crouched, watching the room and group at large, eyes narrowed, likely in pain and/or annoyance against the intense cacophony of sound, one leg raised to keep pressure off of it, and blood dripping from a number of cuts along its muzzle, neck and one of the tentacles, each of which swished about defensively.

The Old Man's eyes watered briefly, but he frustratedly blinked them away as he stood to his feet. It didn't take long at all, and when he'd risen entirely to his feet, his stance was that of a predator, his eyes ablaze with a fury he'd rarely felt, and none with him had yet seen. Truly, if looks could kill, the Displacer Beast would have been banished to the deepest layer of hell, bathed nightly in brimstone and ripped apart piece by tiny piece over the course of millenia with no gap in the pain until it was too far gone with madness to even continue to beg for the end.

One hand shoved into a pouch as the Shaman set his jaw. "You will know death creature, and if you're mistress revives you I'll feed you her head before killing you again myself..." The words were lost even to Geraint's ears, but that didn't take the wind from his sails any. Indeed, with that he crushed the cat token in his hand, pulled from his pouch, his pupils narrowing to feline slits, and with a growl to match that made earlier by the giant Not-Cat itself, blurred forward at surprising speed to collide with it. There was a flurry of movement as the two grappled, and when they "stilled" if that word could be used, Geraint seemed to be grasping two handfuls of empty air, which was dimly mirrored by the two forelegs seemingly suspended out away from his body. The barbed tentacles lashed at his body, grinding his back and sides, but he ignored them, answering the roar of the Displacer Beast with a growl and a head-butt to it's nose, which caused it to let out a startled yip.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Mirabella d'Adreci Character Portrait: Nelinia Jaze Character Portrait: Feylon Haradas Character Portrait: Geraint Magdohl Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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He could hear the singing, familiar voices of those that had gone before him cheering and celebrating in the great hall, the smell of roasted meat seasoned in exquisite spices filled his nostrils, he then began to recall his life in that sinful earth.

The youthful Arthur growing up with an unhealthy ambition, he wished to rise high and beyond his menial position in Queran, it was shameful to recall how he had stripped young boys from their mothers to send them marching to a war they wanted no part in, the flashing memory of his first wife accident with the flu... holding a pillow against her head was the cause of her demise, not the goddamn flu.

Then the memory of the second woman who had drowned, she could not bore Arthur any children so a little push in a boat and she went down like a brick, that man Arthur such a terrible sinner he was... had Akdov done enough to repair the damage and mend the wounds that such a despicable individual brought down upon innocent folk powerless to defy such a cruel twist of fate?

"yes" a female voice had said decades ago, Ryja sister to the nefarious riftwalker who would have scarred the borders between realities forever had she not been stopped, but she was wrong in a way, indeed while the vanquishing of such a menace was something commendable and that so far, history had failed to take note upon the unsung heroes, it wasn't enough

The vanquishing of evil did not equal the creation of good

No doubt existed in the mind of the priest that he would be accepted in the presence of the Hall lord to have drink and dance, but that didn't meant that he was ready to go, his projects of healing Queran and establishing a proper clergy for the merry church a holy bastion which would make Deud proud.

Yet, he had failed, in his confidence he had attempted to have another soul freed from its foul chains and in the end it had been him, not the ghoul who had died, he had some regrets but the destination was a fine reward, he would be in the presence of the sacred party... and he would be with Ryja at last.

"Not yet priest" the familiar female voice echoed coming from everywhere but nowhere as well "You are needed still" he felt a pull, one that slowed his advance "The hall will be here when the day comes" then the pull became more than a restrain, it began to drive him backwards

Then he saw, it was Geraint his old comrade and Lance the eager young paladin, they were surrounding the ruin that was his corpse, if they were planning to put his soul back into its old socket they were being naive, the wound that the violent release of his essence had left would mean that he would only return to die from it... such an honest and stubborn effort should not go without its reward, but there was no point to their endeavor... the vessel of his body was wrecked.

As he went down, ever faster he managed to see how in spite of his bravery Lance was ultimately outwitted by the foul beast that now had the group on the defensive, with one swift and decisive strike the beast had ripped through Lance signature helmet and sent him tumbling over Geraint and Akdov´s own ruined husk.

Blue eyes opened and Akdov took a deep breath, he rose up blood dripping from his short blond hair he leaned on the sword he had been carrying using it for support as he got back on his feet and looked at his allies under attack from an alien creature, it looked like some sort of minion from the riftwalker rather than a necromancer... he felt feelings of vengeance and retribution race through his flesh


He felt a terrible headache he touched his chest and found that there was no sign of the burst of his spirit, only hard metal plates

Metal plates?

His allies needed him! the beast used the cover of darkness to strike, he didn't knew why or how he knew but the certainty of it covered his conviction, he struck his sword and hand against the massive shield he carried and the unnatural shroud that covered the monster dissipated like cloth burnt by a fiery blaze, the eyes and ears of the group would now be hindered no longer by the threads of the beast

"Strike it down! take the offensive!" he shouted to those that were not engaged with the creature, when he began to turn to lead the offensive Akdov thought he saw an old hairy blond man lying near were he had came back to his feet, he charged towards the beast not really paying any attention where his iron gear had come from, why he felt such an outburst of vitality or why his cup and tome could not be found in his presence


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mirabella d'Adreci Character Portrait: Nelinia Jaze Character Portrait: Callavan Sole Character Portrait: Geraint Magdohl Character Portrait: Lance Elgard Character Portrait: Travian Zarel

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#, as written by Celedia
Once more the chaos of battle took over the small group and with the lack of leadership weighing heavily upon them, everyone seemed to disperse. One moment she was on her way to the corner to guard those that needed it but then on her way over, the small monk yanked her down to the ground with a strength and a quickness that she did not believe the young girl capable of possessing. It was just as her back hit the stone flooring that she felt the faint whoosh of air as something passed over top of them and though she didn’t say it, she was thankful for Nelinia’s quick thinking.

The displacer beast was a bastard to fight, that much was sure and as soon as she was standing on her own two feet once more she tried desperately to slice her blade into the creature’s flesh. Yet, how can a warrior without a hint of magical know-how attack a beast that is shielded by illusion? The image of the creature seemed to always been a few feet away from the actual body and though a couple of lucky strikes hit something she didn’t feel comfortable battling a hidden foe while there were so many of her comrades in close proximity. Nel was attached to one of the beast’s many legs and Travian and Lance would both zero in, slashing at the creature before retreating to assess the situation once more.

The mist and cacophony of sound that the mage summoned seemed to hinder the creature’s attempts but it also affected their side equally. Those with keen hearing stood about clutching their sensitive ears and it was only then that Mirabella noticed that the mist that Van had summoned would part in a way that didn’t make sense. The displacer beast would pounce towards someone but the mist would part three feet to the side of the illusion and it was then that she found her answer. Attack wherever the mist was cleared from movement and not the actual visualization of the creature itself.

Using this logic, she struck the beast with great force three times and annoyed it so considerably that it leaped in her direction, causing her to just barely evade its massive form but the dirlagraun’s paw still caught her shoulder which knocked her off balance and sent her tumbling to the ground.

“Mira! Slice off those damn things if you can!”

”Oh, right Ian because I was simply waiting for you to give me the go ahead, I’ve been practicing my footwork for the next masquerade ball. What was I thinking?”

Though her comments were sarcastic, they were also good-natured. The Paladin and Triansui had a history of ribbing each other and even in a situation as dire as the one they were in now, she couldn’t let the opportunity pass to respond. Yet, both Geraint and Ian were right. With the illusion of the displacer beast nullified, now was the time to go on the attack and she pushed herself up, steadying herself briefly while she swapped out her shield for her hand axe. The beast was massive so there would be no shield pummeling it into submission so she may as well use her free hand for something useful, like an extra blade.

Now wielding her short sword in her right hand and her axe in her left, the Triansui sprinted forward while the dirlagraun’s attention was focused on Ian. Using a stabbing motion, she buried her sword into the creature’s side to keep it steady then swung her axe at one of the tentacles. Her axe had remained unused since it’s sharpening in Paetax so it cut cleanly through the appendage, causing it to fall off of the beast while the dirlagraun let out a vicious sound that was somewhere between a squeal of pain and a roar of anger.

The blond warrior grinned but the victory was momentary as the beast wheeled around, its attention now focused solely on her and as she jerked her arm to withdraw her blade from its musculature the dirlagraun vaulted towards the Triansui with renewed ferocity despite its many wounds.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Alice Sangera Character Portrait: Mirabella d'Adreci Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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The frontline troops had engaged the enemy and without illusion on its side anymore the displacer beast had the odds against it, already the Triansui and the paladin had loped off a member of the wretched creature but it seemed to be determined to not go down without first giving them a fierce remorse to go with the joy of victory.

But nobody is going to die to this cat, not one more

It appeared that his illusion nullification had affected the mages in an adverse way as well seeing how they were not busy raining hell upon it, it was of little importance the day would go to valor and zeal.

Mine... Ours

Then in a turn of good fortune the feline began to freeze as it was about to strike a counter attack at the warrior "Yeeeeeargh!" Akdov smashed himself with all the impulse he had attained in his charge against the beast putting his whole weight behind it, so mighty was the attack that the legs it used to stand upon it stayed behind in its wake glued to the ground, an effect of the freezing act that one of the mages had conjured.

Now he pressed the shield against the maimed cat pinning it in the ground, one of its tentacles was still free and it lashed around aimlessly unable to cope with the events around it in time to avoid its grim fate, it struck Akdov several times before he had the idea to stab his sword into its throat and use it to carve a bloody road till it met the jawbone and then in one last movement it had sliced the thing open leaving its elongated tongue kissing the floor as guts and fluids escaped from the foe

He had seen that done when he was young, a thug which whom he ran into at times had killed a man in a similar fashion and had told him that it was a very balanced method of slaying, elegant, painful, quick and fatal...

Wait... I... I was a noble in Queran

With the enemy down the man that had been known as Lance placed his hands on his head as if to stop it from lifting and soaring on like a humming bird, he was having a violent clash of memories, things Akdov had never seen or done

Pray to Pelor for guidance, wait... no thats wrong, there is only Deud

He screamed and kicked making his pain a well known fact to everyone as he still seemed to be struggling with an invisible demon wrapped around his head recoiling in the ground and rolling from side to side


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Callavan Sole Character Portrait: Rydas Errion Character Portrait: Geraint Magdohl Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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His head felt as if a giant was feeling in a mood for vandalism and his brain was the only object around

The man known as Lance was grinding his teeth in agony, memories that rushed in unwelcomed and deeds of the past that he could not find no matter how hard he dug into his memory, there was a small notion of what the cleric knew about the man he had been before, but he could not recall for his life the face of his last wife, or the color of the hair of his child, nor the landscape surrounding his manor

In its place there was the streets of Thoav, the experiences of running away with a mouth half full a stomach half empty and a man shouting after him and his band and also Oleander whom had pushed him forward into the path of righteousness

But that wasn't right, it had been Aliuqet whom had taught him the ways of Deud, the first man that the person who would later be baptized as Akdov had seen, the one that had revitalized him with the spirit of the Hall lord, he could also recall the exploits that such holy man had carried out.

And he would never forget Ryja, nor her dreaded sister the Riftwalker. There were others too, Geraint the bear of a man, Emerich the marksman who had doomed himself covering his friend`s escape even as the enemy closed in around him, Nathenya the crazed warrior witch that chopped off manhoods and fed them to her wolves...

Who has he? Who am I?

He stood and watched the looks thrown at him by his companions and then finally realized what had happened when he saw the grayish ruin of a man that had a mutilated wound on his chest that was gripping firmly a book with a cover he knew all too well, he made his way forward and closed his eyelids, he retrieved the tome, the chalice and the staff.

"Callavan, if you would be so kind this vessel needs to be set ablaze" some of them objected and then he explained "I am sorry to inform you that... the cleric that had traveled with you as well as the paladin Lance are... in a different state now I dont have the answers I am sorry" he continued "I am Lance, I am Oleander`s pupil and acolyte and I remember the sacred oaths that I took long ago, but..." this was not getting any easier, he had hoped it would as the tale progressed "Above that I am also Akdov Mur, of Deud`s chosen blessed by his sacred gaze who imbibed on the holy cup of the days of Ruglia, I remember our quest, I remember that the King to whom we owe peace lays sick and dying and our beloved prince now has gone missing in a macabre maze"

He chained the tome around him, placed the staff at his back and tied the chalice to his belt with the girdle that had been in the priest "Now is not the time to doubt our duties but to embrace our task, you might call it destiny, luck or divine guidance but we are here today to set the world straight, to honor the sacrifices of those that fell we must keep forward"

A wicked giggle then was heard and then an amused clap coming from a balcony above them a woman and... Rydas? they were praising their performance and inviting them forward to a chase "By all thats holy what in the dry hell was that?" asked Akdov not really expecting an answer "I had doubts on the prince intentions but this goes beyond what I ever could have feared" the mages could probably know "Was he under any kind of spell? is he master of his own will?"

We have to thread carefully now


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Xan Hallister Character Portrait: Narenia Halen Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Alice Sangera Character Portrait: Nelinia Jaze Character Portrait: Callavan Sole Character Portrait: Feylon Haradas Character Portrait: Lance Elgard Character Portrait: Travian Zarel

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For all the blows Travian and his fellows seemed to land on the beast, it showed no signs of slowing down. It thrashed and clawed and bit at anyone foolish enough to get close to it. Then, in an instant it was dead. No twitches, no howls of pain; one second it was alive and the next it was just dead. It had been brought down by some sort of powerful spell and Travian couldn’t help but shudder at the terrifying power that was magic. He couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to live in a time where mages were unchecked, where displays like the one he had just witnessed were commonplace, old hat.

He was by no means ungrateful for the spell though, it had no doubt saved lives. Assuming that it was the older mage who had done it, Travian turned towards him to offer his praises. However the look of bewilderment on the man’s face suggested that it wasn’t his spell….or at least not the one he intended. It wasn’t until the others began praising the young girl that he realized it was she was the one responsible. He was not only grateful to her, but happy for her; after looking so scared before she had managed to find some courage. She seemed a little overwhelmed at all the attention the others were giving her, so he simply added a thank you to the chorus. It wasn't much but if she had paid any attention to his face and tone when he said it she would have known how sincere it was.

Just as the words left his lips, Lance became the new center of attention. He was on the ground next to the beast, screaming with his hands to his temples. Travian rushed to his side and hovered over him unsure what the man’s problem was or how he could help. The man stopped after only a few howls and was then silent for a few moments. It looked as though he was collecting his thoughts, so Travian let him be. When he finally did speak it was with a calm demeanor that suited neither his still echoing howls or what he had to say.

How could it be? How could two distinct people fuse in this way? His manner of speaking, it was very much Akdov's but the voice was Lance’s. He seemed to know the histories of both men though they had not known each other before and had not interacted much since meeting. But perhaps worst of all he saw no hope of Akdov returning, for he instructed Callavan to burn the body. Travian could not accept that. But he couldn't bring himself to say anything. Travian knew that whatever turmoil he felt must be nothing compared to what those two felt and yet they were acting as though they had accepted it. Because there was no time to deal with it right now. And if they were ready to move on then Travian had no right to hold everyone up.

No time. No time. There were those two words again as the Sorceress and her new lover left the room. No time to think about whether the prince betrayed you. No time to think about if you were all brought to be butchered. No time to think about the possibility of having to kill the man you swore fealty to. And no point anyway, since you have no idea what's actually going on.

The mage didn't know whether he had been enchanted or not. For a few moments the room was almost completely silent. Those who did speak did so with lowered voices and everyone made themselves busy in some way or another. Taking care of weapons and wounds, Travian was no exception; he rubbed some ointment onto the light wounds the spiked tentacles had left, gathered and cleaned his spears. He was ready....at least when it came to the physical preparations....

The monk however, was totally ready and she had no qualms about climbing up the balcony after the prince and sorceress. She only paused for a moment to address a red haired woman who had just caught up with them. Travian just stared at her in utter disbelief, only returning to his senses when she passed out of sight.

“DAMN IT! You think she would have learned after the Ghoul!" He took a quick look around at his companions, "We have to catch up to her before she gets into trouble again! Xan, rangers, can you scout the other rooms? I'm sure you all could make the climb but the rest of us are going to need to find some stairs and quickly.” Then turning to the other paladin. “Lance, Akdov, can I leave the wounded to you or would you prefer I stay?” Before they could respond he noticed the mage girl, floating just below the balcony as though she were unsure whether it was okay for her to follow. She was looking at him. "Go!"He would feel better with someone going directly after the monk. "But please be careful! Is there some signal you can give us if you get into trouble?"


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Akdov Mur Character Portrait: Rydas Errion Character Portrait: Geraint Magdohl Character Portrait: Lance Elgard

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Geraint just stood there as the Displacer Beast was ripped from his hands... and its own limbs. His mind swirling to a semblance of coherence in the aftermath. A few moments passed, and his attention was turned to... Lakdov? Geraint's mind was obviously still a little shell-shocked in the wake of his friend's failed resuscitation, or maybe it was just that he instinctively knew enough to leave such questions for a later time. Just now, it frankly didn't matter in the slightest. They had one more body, with some derivation of holy capacity, to aid them in the slaughtering of this necromancer. Aaaand speak of the devil...

... and she shall appear.

A woman, the old man could only assume it was Idassava in one form or another. Ghost, apparition, lich, simply a spirit bound to her sanctum? Perhaps she did even have the amulet they sought and had used it successfully. The possibilities were endless and irrelevant until the group knew more. Of more interest was Rydus standing aside her. Geraint was old, he'd had a lover or two, he'd been married, he had a child and grandchildren. The way those two held onto each other it was obvious to his knowing eyes that in his current mental state Rydus thought of Idassava as a lover, a wife, something along those lines.

That however, was about as far as the Shaman's coherence went. As the others milled about, he gave Lakdov a simple nod as he passed him, heading away from the stairs the malevolent duo had laughed from, watching out of the corner of his eye as the Priest's corpse was set aflame. He stooped, and it wasn't until than that he realized, with the searing pain flowing through his upper back, that, oh hey, he'd had his back shredded by a Displacer Beast's tentacles. His armor protected him to some degree, but his back probably looked something akin to ground meat where he'd been wounded. Sucking in a breath, the shaggy grey hair retrieved his caber, slung it onto his shoulder with a grunt of pain as much as of effort, and stalked toward the stairs. His eyes closed as he walked, a light, thin, cold green mist swirled about him, seeming to seep into his wounds before flowing back out and swirling gently, almost invisibly about the tall old Shaman. His wounds weren't healed, not really, they just wouldn't continue to bleed, and they would bother him less. Sort of like magical adrenaline.

With everyone flittering about, doing whatever it was they were doing, Geraint ascended the stairs. "I'm going to kill them." He said to himself. It wasn't under his breath, it was simply stated from about halfway up the stairs. By "them" he wasn't sure if he meant Idassava and whatever was powering her and/or all her cronies, or if he meant the two magically linked lovers. He still wasn't being very clear headed, which may be why he simply walked up the stairs. The fact was, he figured the Necromancer would want to... gloat, or use them or something by this point, so the stairs weren't likely to be trapped.

Presumably he was correct, as he made it up the stairs, down the hall, and into the large banquet chamber without issue. There Geraint stood, the logician in his mind keeping him still, planning to get as much information out of the two antagonists across the room from them, near the head of the table, as he could. But the longer he stood there, the more he seethed. The woman next to Rydus was responsible for the death's or mastication of two men's souls. Two good men, holy men. One of whom was quite probably one of his greatest friends.

So much so, that by the time the rest of the group filtered in, it was taking a goodly amount of will for Geraint to keep standing there in silence, waiting. After all, it was the smart thing to do, especially considering the palpable magic in the air and the apparently sleeping "dinner guests". But when the couple across from them greets the group like old friends, he snapped. No words, no sound escaped him, save a grunt of effort. With all his strength, and not inconsiderable shamanistic aid, Geraint hurled his caber toward Idassava. The log flew straight as an arrow... or maybe a ballista bolt if one were to be more precise in their comparisons. The rational part of his brain. That part that was struggling to breath under the sea of the Old Shaman's rage, was nigh certain that there would be some sort of defense mechanism, but that hardly seemed to matter to the angry eyed Shaman.

The Necromancer was the target, but the two "lovers" were close, holding eachother, it was possible that Rydus could be collateral damage if in fact there was no defense, but in his current state of mind, Geraint just. Didn't. Care.