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Nineve: The Age of Men

Lorcliff - The Stone Walled Town


a part of Nineve: The Age of Men, by Beach-Born-Boy.

A town built by the minds of some and the labor of more

Beach-Born-Boy holds sovereignty over Lorcliff - The Stone Walled Town, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

263 readers have been here.


Lorcliff is home to the mages and arcane artists of the Mayyssus race of Men. Carved from a seaside cliff by old magic and the help of the Fire Giants, Lorcliff is a city of both knowledge and industry. The city itself has several mines, each worked by slaves and prisoners of war from the other races and as such, is a city of vast wealth, both monetarily and mentally. The Mayyssus spared no expense in finding their loft and creating it, as hundreds of tunnels run into the earth of a sheer cliff face. Branching off from each tunnel lie homes to the mages, their walls laden with mithral, gold and fine cut gems that they pull from their mines daily.
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Lorcliff - The Stone Walled Town

A town built by the minds of some and the labor of more


Lorcliff - The Stone Walled Town is a part of Nineve.

1 Characters Here

Alusan Ilossa [1] "Giant-son. That's what they used to call me. But that was before the desecration of The Tor."

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Character Portrait: Alusan Ilossa
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Two weeks, four days, thirteen hours and twenty three minutes. The ticking clock on the wall reminded Alusan of each moment he spent in this living hell, a world at it's own throat. But for him, it didn't matter. For him, all that mattered was out. Twenty four minutes. His axe, quite possibly the only weapon of his race that bore no name, hung just past his cell's bars, in the low torchlight. The air was dank, never fresh unless someone stepped into the room. The heavy, wooden door locked out the fresh air, the sounds of the beaches seated just beyond the wall, even the light of day with a harsh oppression. Twenty five minutes.

It didn't matter though. None of it mattered. All that mattered was that solid oak stave, the crescent of steel that sat upon it, humming, beating in time with Alusan's own heart as is pulsated with energy from before even the thought of the Balt was in the minds of the Gods. It reverberated with the power of Karas, the first Sky Giant to fall in the war. His blood had blessed the weapon, even thousands of years beyond his death. And these Mayyssus jailer pigs had not but an inkling of what power it held. Twenty six minutes.

So Alusan waited. Waited for his moment. Waited for one of them to come and stand from their chair, come to take him away for another day of what they thought was torture. He waited for one of them to get - "Giant-Son. Feh. You look like a sorry bastard to me Giant-Son." The jailer picked the axe up off the hook on the wall and smacked the blade of it against the iron bars. Once. "Get up Balt." Twice. "I don't have all day." Thrice and the sound was muted as Alusan sprang to his feet, quicker than the dumbfounded guard could comprehend. Twenty eight minutes.

His hands clasped the handle that seemed so far away for so long, and twisted rapidly. The poor Mayyssus slave had no time to react as the axe twisted and with it, his arm until it snapped like a twig underfoot. Writhing in pain as he stepped away from the cage, the jailer screamed in a mixture of surprise and agony. However, Alusan could only smile. His weapon was his once again, and with it, he needn't worry about getting out of this Gods-forsaken city. Twenty nine minutes.

A quick thrust of the oak rod through the bars of his cell was all Alusan needed for this man. The blood of Karas surged through the Blueshine steel of the axe as it connected with the jailer's chest sending him reeling backwards and into the wall. The force was powerful enough, that when the man hit, he left a crater in the wall. No doubt the impact had killed him, and this was only confirmed as he slumped forward, landing face first on the floor.Thirty minutes.

Alusan turned, his eyes on the blank wall at the back of his cell , the wall that separated him from the outside world. The sound of the clock striking the hour on the wall behind him was drowned as he swung his axe, the steel striking stone and the following crack and explosion as the wall crumbled away. The chimes of the clock , twelve noon, was the last of this hell that Alusan would ever see or hear of, if he could help it. The salty sea air billowed through the opening in the wall, and sunlight poured like nectar into the chamber. "A hundred feet to the water, easily." Alusan muttered to himself. As the clock reached the final bell, he dove, out of an adventure and into a war.