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Wading nearly waist-deep, his cloak fanning behind him, Zabu went deeper still, until the biting cold soaked through his clothing into his fur. The underwater snakes left behind phantom trails that felt like slime along his exposed limbs as they slithered, back and forth, sometimes circling, closer, closer, until another serpentine shape splashed the surface and disappeared, and the water became eerily calm. Not a thing stirred in the murk below. Then, suddenly, something whipped tightly around his right ankle and tried to yank him off his feet and pull him into the icy, unseen depths.
The setting changes from Pools of Sorrow to Embassy
Sylwyn stopped short of reaching the back door that opened into the East Wing, letting the drunken man stumble a few steps before she leaned over and glanced at Karem. She knew the entire floor plan, every structural weakness, hideaway and passage of the embassy, and it was no secret the elf guilelessly talked even the most stoic guardsmen into catering to her apparent flights of fancy. Doubtless capable of wooing the emperor himself, she had no trouble smiling her way through any sticky situation, but it was that diplomatic mind beneath a disarming facade which dictated her every action, every word; all that to others seemed an exception was always, always according to order.
Her eyes crinkled with a twinge of humor, and she let one corner of her mouth turn up in a half-smile. Still, Karem knew her, perhaps too well. The halt in her steps, coupled with a brief span of silence, was enough to give her away. You have but to ask, for, when first we met, I swore to you I would uphold our relationship with honesty. I have not yet broken that promise, and I never will.
"Well, one surely can't expect a girl to have spent the last twenty-five years charming the guards for nothing, now, hmm?"
...
"Out of my way!" Calihal barked at either guard, his gaze seething with hatred that darkened his eyes to deep carmine. "I have a private meeting with Captain Cylas. I'm certain he is on his way to his office right now, if you care to gamble your sorry hides on the next convoy to Kyoth by impeding official business.”
Her eyes crinkled with a twinge of humor, and she let one corner of her mouth turn up in a half-smile. Still, Karem knew her, perhaps too well. The halt in her steps, coupled with a brief span of silence, was enough to give her away. You have but to ask, for, when first we met, I swore to you I would uphold our relationship with honesty. I have not yet broken that promise, and I never will.
"Well, one surely can't expect a girl to have spent the last twenty-five years charming the guards for nothing, now, hmm?"
...
"Out of my way!" Calihal barked at either guard, his gaze seething with hatred that darkened his eyes to deep carmine. "I have a private meeting with Captain Cylas. I'm certain he is on his way to his office right now, if you care to gamble your sorry hides on the next convoy to Kyoth by impeding official business.”
Making sure that the young guard was able to cross the threshold, Karem allowed him to stumble forward a few steps inside before pausing to return Sylwyn’s glance. She leaned in conspiratorially, as if to share some mischievous secret.
At this, Karem had to chuckle, more at the way she said this than what it may have implied. Of course. If he had fallen under the spell of her unfaltering charm, why not his comrades? The laughter was also a way to push back darker questions.
Twenty-five years . . . yes, that’s right, Sylwyn had been in Zamil’s service and visiting the Embassy since long before he had arrived. Before he could even lift a sword . . .
But why? Why the interest? What use would such detailed knowledge have for you?
That’s what he had been truly asking, perhaps without even fully realizing it himself. However, now was not the time.
“You’ve definitely gotten something tonight,” he said with a shake of the head.
He might have added “Welcome to the world of military leadership, in which I make sure those guards stay in line and don’t drown in a drunken stupor or get killed by owls”. He didn’t, of course, not only because it was not in his nature to express such sentiments, but also because he would have preferred to say “I’ll give you more than you bargained for, if you let me.” Or something along those lines. Courtship had never been his strong-suit.
Swinging the back door as wide as it would open, Karem rummaged in a side pocket on the inner lining of his jacket for the flint stone most mercenaries carried. This inner pocket did not come standard with the dress uniform, but being raised a nomad and trained a mercenary, he preferred to carry the basic necessities on his person and had sewn it in. This way, he would always be prepared, and no one needed to know of the unauthorized alteration.
With a quick wink at Sylwyn as he also removed his pocket knife, Karem stepped into the dim room. The moons gave the deserted room a vague glow, and he used whatever light there was to track down a spare torch. The stone walled room was cool during day, and downright cold at night. Fire would provide not just light, but at least a semblance of warmth.
Karem’s companion, on the other hand, might have benefited from a cold slap (of water or sudden temperature change, of course).
********
The human guards glanced at each other. The serious one who spoke lifted an eyebrow before turning back to Calihal without so much as a hint of a flinch.
“The Captain is with Rear Admiral Lantis,” he said coldly. “We’ll take our chances.”
If there had been a meeting between their Captain and their charge, both were certain that they would have been informed. Cylas was not one to neglect important information. Whatever was going on here, the guards had every reason to suspect more personal reasons for Calihal’s apparent ire. Soldiers in particular knew what might be expected from an armed man with a temper.
Neither guard stepped down, and both were prepared to act should the Chancellor defy his effective house arrest. Having spent the hours before their shift among his kin, they willing to use the new trick they had learned from their Dark Elvin counterparts. As it was, they did not make any moves until directly provoked to do so.
At this, Karem had to chuckle, more at the way she said this than what it may have implied. Of course. If he had fallen under the spell of her unfaltering charm, why not his comrades? The laughter was also a way to push back darker questions.
Twenty-five years . . . yes, that’s right, Sylwyn had been in Zamil’s service and visiting the Embassy since long before he had arrived. Before he could even lift a sword . . .
But why? Why the interest? What use would such detailed knowledge have for you?
That’s what he had been truly asking, perhaps without even fully realizing it himself. However, now was not the time.
“You’ve definitely gotten something tonight,” he said with a shake of the head.
He might have added “Welcome to the world of military leadership, in which I make sure those guards stay in line and don’t drown in a drunken stupor or get killed by owls”. He didn’t, of course, not only because it was not in his nature to express such sentiments, but also because he would have preferred to say “I’ll give you more than you bargained for, if you let me.” Or something along those lines. Courtship had never been his strong-suit.
Swinging the back door as wide as it would open, Karem rummaged in a side pocket on the inner lining of his jacket for the flint stone most mercenaries carried. This inner pocket did not come standard with the dress uniform, but being raised a nomad and trained a mercenary, he preferred to carry the basic necessities on his person and had sewn it in. This way, he would always be prepared, and no one needed to know of the unauthorized alteration.
With a quick wink at Sylwyn as he also removed his pocket knife, Karem stepped into the dim room. The moons gave the deserted room a vague glow, and he used whatever light there was to track down a spare torch. The stone walled room was cool during day, and downright cold at night. Fire would provide not just light, but at least a semblance of warmth.
Karem’s companion, on the other hand, might have benefited from a cold slap (of water or sudden temperature change, of course).
********
The human guards glanced at each other. The serious one who spoke lifted an eyebrow before turning back to Calihal without so much as a hint of a flinch.
“The Captain is with Rear Admiral Lantis,” he said coldly. “We’ll take our chances.”
If there had been a meeting between their Captain and their charge, both were certain that they would have been informed. Cylas was not one to neglect important information. Whatever was going on here, the guards had every reason to suspect more personal reasons for Calihal’s apparent ire. Soldiers in particular knew what might be expected from an armed man with a temper.
Neither guard stepped down, and both were prepared to act should the Chancellor defy his effective house arrest. Having spent the hours before their shift among his kin, they willing to use the new trick they had learned from their Dark Elvin counterparts. As it was, they did not make any moves until directly provoked to do so.
The setting changes from Embassy to Pools of Sorrow
As Zabu continued through the tunnel of waist deep water, he felt the snake like shapes seemed to leave ghost like trails behind them as they moved. Zabu could feel a slimy feeling across the skin of limbs which were bare as they slithered back and forth around him, circling him like a pack of sharks splashing out on the surface before disappearing. He didn't feel safe at all in the icy freezing water, and entities he didn't seem to recognize having trouble convincing himself whether or not these snake like shapes he felt were real or just a figment of his imagination. Taking but a step or two more he suddenly noticed that the water seemed to grow unnaturally calm. Nothing stirred at the bottom of the water as it did before just a few moments ago. Upon convincing himself that it was just probably in his head he prepared to take another step.
That's when it hit him. Something wrapped around his right ankle and attempted to yank him off of his feet. Having his body become filled with surprise and fear he let out a loud yelp, before attempting to grasp onto a rigged part of the wet stone wall of the tunnel to hopefully keep himself from falling whilst he attempted to free his foot from whatever held onto his ankle and tried to yank him underwater. However Since the walls were wet and slippery, Zabu's grip onto the wall if he had managed to get a grip onto it, would have a probable chance of slipping depending on how hard whatever had Zabu in it's grip was yanking him.
That's when it hit him. Something wrapped around his right ankle and attempted to yank him off of his feet. Having his body become filled with surprise and fear he let out a loud yelp, before attempting to grasp onto a rigged part of the wet stone wall of the tunnel to hopefully keep himself from falling whilst he attempted to free his foot from whatever held onto his ankle and tried to yank him underwater. However Since the walls were wet and slippery, Zabu's grip onto the wall if he had managed to get a grip onto it, would have a probable chance of slipping depending on how hard whatever had Zabu in it's grip was yanking him.
The setting changes from Pools of Sorrow to Academy for the Arcane Arts
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The reactions from the stuffy faculty were somewhat predictable, although the sudden arrival of a messenger bearing news was quite the opposite. Something was going down in Gooseneck, and it was clearly up to Felix and Alexandria to help out. Besides, it could even help put them in good standing with the Academy, which was more than welcome in the current circumstances, the healer thought to herself.
Predictably enough, the pyromancer seemed to have come to the same conclusion. "We'll get it done," he said bluntly. Was there some sincerity behind those words? It damn well seemed like it. Regardless, Felix had made up his mind. Those upper-class types over at the Embassy weren't going to benefit from the aid of the two mages. If they actually needed it, of course. But first, before setting off for Gooseneck, they'd need someone who knew where to rendezvous with the mages stationed there.
"Gregory! If you could be so kind as to let us borrow you for a moment..." Before he could escape, the poor messenger was being half-led, half-dragged towards the door by Felix. Alexandria simply walked by Gregory's side, but kept telling him that everything was going to be okay in the hope that it'd calm him down sooner or later.
Meanwhile, Felix looked ahead thoughtfully, occasionally asking Gregory for directions to the meeting spot. He'd known Archmage Tess back from his old Academy days. What was her reaction going to be when she saw him? Fear? Happiness? Some other third thing? Who knows!
Predictably enough, the pyromancer seemed to have come to the same conclusion. "We'll get it done," he said bluntly. Was there some sincerity behind those words? It damn well seemed like it. Regardless, Felix had made up his mind. Those upper-class types over at the Embassy weren't going to benefit from the aid of the two mages. If they actually needed it, of course. But first, before setting off for Gooseneck, they'd need someone who knew where to rendezvous with the mages stationed there.
"Gregory! If you could be so kind as to let us borrow you for a moment..." Before he could escape, the poor messenger was being half-led, half-dragged towards the door by Felix. Alexandria simply walked by Gregory's side, but kept telling him that everything was going to be okay in the hope that it'd calm him down sooner or later.
Meanwhile, Felix looked ahead thoughtfully, occasionally asking Gregory for directions to the meeting spot. He'd known Archmage Tess back from his old Academy days. What was her reaction going to be when she saw him? Fear? Happiness? Some other third thing? Who knows!
The setting changes from Academy for the Arcane Arts to Arisha
Jenkins disappeared for almost a minute and returned with a lantern. Suspending the light over the water, he leaned out and squinted down at them. Eddie stayed perfectly still whilst under the First Mate's scrutiny, the only movement that of his chest rising and falling with subdued breath.
Finally Jenkins stood and turned, cupping one hand around his mouth. "Drop the ropes! Roderick sent us some more drinking buddies!"
Moments later, a pair of thick, bare chested sailors clad in loose breeches and crimson bandannas popped up near the forecastle and tossed two woven ladders over the edge. The ropes whacked the side of the ship and fluttered in the brisk ocean breeze.
"Come on up, boys," Jenkins called to the boarding party. "One of our lads just turned seventeen today, if you care to bet a few beers in a friendly game of Liar's Dice!"
"You're about to get much more than you wagered, my friend," Eddie muttered, a grin stealing across his face as he eased into a low crouch.
The rowers skimmed their oars along the glassy, black surface, steering the rowboat so that it pushed right up alongside the schooner. Two at a time, the Ravens began to ascend the ropes, and Eddie, not far behind, clung to the center rung on the nearest ladder, his face damp with sweat.
Right when the lanky, yellow-toothed thief reached the top of the ladder, a loud thunk came from the other side of the schooner, with a resounding echo gradually quieting into the steady rhythm of water slapping against it. Both sailors, their attention directed toward the sound, exchanged glances.
Eddie peered down at the dark elf and raised his free hand in Jenkins' direction. Not yet, he mouthed, silently. Wait for it...
"What was that?" one of the sailors wondered aloud.
Then, they heard a series of thuds from across the deck, and their hands dropped to their swords. No doubt, the rest of Eddie's men had just cast their grappling hooks over the port side.
The Red Ravens' leader barely uttered the word, "Now," and lowered his hand, giving Taena the signal to fire.
Finally Jenkins stood and turned, cupping one hand around his mouth. "Drop the ropes! Roderick sent us some more drinking buddies!"
Moments later, a pair of thick, bare chested sailors clad in loose breeches and crimson bandannas popped up near the forecastle and tossed two woven ladders over the edge. The ropes whacked the side of the ship and fluttered in the brisk ocean breeze.
"Come on up, boys," Jenkins called to the boarding party. "One of our lads just turned seventeen today, if you care to bet a few beers in a friendly game of Liar's Dice!"
"You're about to get much more than you wagered, my friend," Eddie muttered, a grin stealing across his face as he eased into a low crouch.
The rowers skimmed their oars along the glassy, black surface, steering the rowboat so that it pushed right up alongside the schooner. Two at a time, the Ravens began to ascend the ropes, and Eddie, not far behind, clung to the center rung on the nearest ladder, his face damp with sweat.
Right when the lanky, yellow-toothed thief reached the top of the ladder, a loud thunk came from the other side of the schooner, with a resounding echo gradually quieting into the steady rhythm of water slapping against it. Both sailors, their attention directed toward the sound, exchanged glances.
Eddie peered down at the dark elf and raised his free hand in Jenkins' direction. Not yet, he mouthed, silently. Wait for it...
"What was that?" one of the sailors wondered aloud.
Then, they heard a series of thuds from across the deck, and their hands dropped to their swords. No doubt, the rest of Eddie's men had just cast their grappling hooks over the port side.
The Red Ravens' leader barely uttered the word, "Now," and lowered his hand, giving Taena the signal to fire.
The setting changes from Arisha to World of Ruyn
Taena smiled at Eddie, and winked at him before releasing the bow straight through "Jenkins" throat. The expression on his face was priceless as he muttered "Att-" before being cut short. His body landed in the water, luckily not splashing. Knowing the attack would commence soon, she slung the bow on her back, and began to climb the rope up, before Eddie helped her up onto the ship.
She saw a young man, 17 maybe, with a bewildered expression on his face.
"Where did Jenkins go?" the fellow asked, before whirling her Silver axe into his face, cracking the skull and releasing bits of brain and bloody all over the ship.
She turned to Eddie, seeing him smile at her grace. She grinned, relishing the feel of the young mans blood on his face. She threw off her cloak, and showed off the fact she was wearing very tight fitting, red leather armor. She charged at another, 7 ft tall sailer, heavily muscled with a mean luck on his face. She sliced his throat with her axe, laughing at the carnage she was causing, before kicking the toppling body onto another sailor, chaos raging through the ship as the Red Ravens unleashed their fury.
Taena turned to Eddie, a physchopathic glint in her eye, walking up to him, smiling.
"It may be time to signal the alarm, handsome" she purred, before standing beside him, relishing in the chaos she had caused.
She saw a young man, 17 maybe, with a bewildered expression on his face.
"Where did Jenkins go?" the fellow asked, before whirling her Silver axe into his face, cracking the skull and releasing bits of brain and bloody all over the ship.
She turned to Eddie, seeing him smile at her grace. She grinned, relishing the feel of the young mans blood on his face. She threw off her cloak, and showed off the fact she was wearing very tight fitting, red leather armor. She charged at another, 7 ft tall sailer, heavily muscled with a mean luck on his face. She sliced his throat with her axe, laughing at the carnage she was causing, before kicking the toppling body onto another sailor, chaos raging through the ship as the Red Ravens unleashed their fury.
Taena turned to Eddie, a physchopathic glint in her eye, walking up to him, smiling.
"It may be time to signal the alarm, handsome" she purred, before standing beside him, relishing in the chaos she had caused.
The setting changes from World of Ruyn to Arisha
"Good work," Eddie grunted offhandedly as he hoisted the dark elf up onto the deck.
Drawing his cutlass, he gutted the nearest man, twisting his blade and pulling it out with a wet squelch. The man fell to his knees, still clutching the scarlet wound oozing from his abdomen. Eddie turned to cut down his next foe, and chaos erupted around them in a skirmish of blood and steel.
He saw the gangly thief scale the rigging, gnarly digits grasping the braided ropes, and climb to the crow's nest. Grabbing one of the lookouts by a fistful of his dingy shirt, the man hurled him overboard, and before the other could react, gripped his knife by the hilt and sliced his neck clean open in a splash of crimson. The rest of Eddie's men went head-to-head with the sailors. Caught off their guard, Imperials dropped like blowflies in a summer drought, and no one from below deck had yet surfaced to discover the carnage let alone defend their vessel. Ah, parties, Eddie thought, and grinned wholeheartedly, stepping over one of the last bodies to fall.
"It may be time to signal the alarm, Handsome," he heard Taena purr behind him.
"What?" he asked, sheathing his sword, and turned toward her, his grin broadening. "Oh! Why, yes. Yes, I am."
Drawing his cutlass, he gutted the nearest man, twisting his blade and pulling it out with a wet squelch. The man fell to his knees, still clutching the scarlet wound oozing from his abdomen. Eddie turned to cut down his next foe, and chaos erupted around them in a skirmish of blood and steel.
He saw the gangly thief scale the rigging, gnarly digits grasping the braided ropes, and climb to the crow's nest. Grabbing one of the lookouts by a fistful of his dingy shirt, the man hurled him overboard, and before the other could react, gripped his knife by the hilt and sliced his neck clean open in a splash of crimson. The rest of Eddie's men went head-to-head with the sailors. Caught off their guard, Imperials dropped like blowflies in a summer drought, and no one from below deck had yet surfaced to discover the carnage let alone defend their vessel. Ah, parties, Eddie thought, and grinned wholeheartedly, stepping over one of the last bodies to fall.
"It may be time to signal the alarm, Handsome," he heard Taena purr behind him.
"What?" he asked, sheathing his sword, and turned toward her, his grin broadening. "Oh! Why, yes. Yes, I am."
Beneath the Seafire’s deck, Captain Roderick and his men enjoyed a few (several) bottles of whisky and rye beer. Having picked up a respectable load in their home port, the men thoroughly intended to enjoy the portion promised to them. Why they were paid this way in kind instead of gold for this particular shipment was uncertain, but the generous amount and quality of the goods ensured that no one asked. It was certainly an appreciated break from the usual rum the sailors enjoyed.
Only one man, a silent burly fellow, kept to himself as he kept a close eye on one of the heavy wooden crates. It looked no different from the homogenous assortment of other shipment crates, save the newer and cleaner looking wood.
Several of the sailors noted the man eyeing the favored crate, but only Roderick gave him more than a fleeting thought. Unaware of anything unusual stored in the bowels of his ship, he tried to decipher the purpose of the stranger’s vigilance. Yet the nature of the festive circumstances drew his attention away quickly.
“Ship under fire!”
The alarm snapped the mixed handful of Imperial sailors and archers and their Captain to the deck. The sound of muffled steps, furious and fast, gave the momentarily silent scene a ghostly quality.
Taking the lead, Roderick furiously climbed the weathered steps with both sailors and land-loving military men in his wake. The sailors stormed the deck, while half a dozen or so archers making a half circle around the man with their taught bows at the ready. The remainder made two neat lines along the steps leading below deck as reinforcements.
One of the sailors from below caught a Raven by his ragged coat collar, pulled back roughly until the man stuttered backwards. The sailor landed a solid punch that broke the outlaw’s nose and a second into his midsection before pinning the main precariously across the ship’s port side. A second, fending off an immediate attack by a bandit ready with a dagger in hand managed to survive with just slash across the side of his face with the bloodied weapon. He didn’t hesitate to remove his own shortsword, with which he sliced at his attacker’s body in a well-practiced motion as he did so. With his opponent felled, he found it hard to miss his next target - a dark skinned distinctly female figure clad in a type of armor wholly impractical for nautical life. She threw him off somewhat, but only for the second it took to compose himself as he advanced an attack on her from behind.
“How in bloody hell did these vermin get on my ship,” Captain Roderick growled.
It was fully an attempt to use the force of his anger and presence to control the situation. Any reasonable being would have thought twice about butting heads, fists, or swords with an irate sailor. Especially if said sailor held any sort of authority or respect among the pecking order of a ship. This particular Captain had both, to some extent.
As a longtime seaman, Roderick was familiar with both rough fighting and pirates, and was unfazed by the sight of blood. At that particular moment, it angered more than upset him that most if it was his crew’s. It was the appropriate response of both a weathered sailor and a human mind attempting to avoid the inevitably heartbreaking grief. That more humane response of “weaker” men might eventually express itself as bad blood between himself and the sanguinary party. If he let them live.
Only one man, a silent burly fellow, kept to himself as he kept a close eye on one of the heavy wooden crates. It looked no different from the homogenous assortment of other shipment crates, save the newer and cleaner looking wood.
Several of the sailors noted the man eyeing the favored crate, but only Roderick gave him more than a fleeting thought. Unaware of anything unusual stored in the bowels of his ship, he tried to decipher the purpose of the stranger’s vigilance. Yet the nature of the festive circumstances drew his attention away quickly.
“Ship under fire!”
The alarm snapped the mixed handful of Imperial sailors and archers and their Captain to the deck. The sound of muffled steps, furious and fast, gave the momentarily silent scene a ghostly quality.
Taking the lead, Roderick furiously climbed the weathered steps with both sailors and land-loving military men in his wake. The sailors stormed the deck, while half a dozen or so archers making a half circle around the man with their taught bows at the ready. The remainder made two neat lines along the steps leading below deck as reinforcements.
One of the sailors from below caught a Raven by his ragged coat collar, pulled back roughly until the man stuttered backwards. The sailor landed a solid punch that broke the outlaw’s nose and a second into his midsection before pinning the main precariously across the ship’s port side. A second, fending off an immediate attack by a bandit ready with a dagger in hand managed to survive with just slash across the side of his face with the bloodied weapon. He didn’t hesitate to remove his own shortsword, with which he sliced at his attacker’s body in a well-practiced motion as he did so. With his opponent felled, he found it hard to miss his next target - a dark skinned distinctly female figure clad in a type of armor wholly impractical for nautical life. She threw him off somewhat, but only for the second it took to compose himself as he advanced an attack on her from behind.
“How in bloody hell did these vermin get on my ship,” Captain Roderick growled.
It was fully an attempt to use the force of his anger and presence to control the situation. Any reasonable being would have thought twice about butting heads, fists, or swords with an irate sailor. Especially if said sailor held any sort of authority or respect among the pecking order of a ship. This particular Captain had both, to some extent.
As a longtime seaman, Roderick was familiar with both rough fighting and pirates, and was unfazed by the sight of blood. At that particular moment, it angered more than upset him that most if it was his crew’s. It was the appropriate response of both a weathered sailor and a human mind attempting to avoid the inevitably heartbreaking grief. That more humane response of “weaker” men might eventually express itself as bad blood between himself and the sanguinary party. If he let them live.
The setting changes from Arisha to World of Ruyn
Taena examined the carnage as the sailors from below deck began to filter up, advancing on the Red Ravens and defending the ship. Taena loved this, the blood, the death, the insanity of it all, the taste of a salty sea on her tongue.....Taena suddenly remembered exactly WHY she was a pirate/outlaw, and looked to the strong, handsome, muscled and dashing figure of Eddie. She smiled to herself. He might be wanting a woman tonight, the Dark Elf thought...
She turned around just to see an Imperial Captain lunge for an attack, which she nimbly dodged, before upholstering both her axes and taking the fight to him, before she slipped and dropped them both. She was now on the floor, with no weapon apart from her bow, with a rather angry looking Imperial Captain advancing on her slowly, sword out its sheath.
No bloody way my armors going to protect me against that, the Dark Elf thought. She felt humiliated having to do this, but she had no choice.
She turned her head towards Eddie, fighting a swarm of Imperial scum.
"EDDIE! BLOODY HELP! the Dark Elf screamed, praying to gods she did not worship for a response...
She turned around just to see an Imperial Captain lunge for an attack, which she nimbly dodged, before upholstering both her axes and taking the fight to him, before she slipped and dropped them both. She was now on the floor, with no weapon apart from her bow, with a rather angry looking Imperial Captain advancing on her slowly, sword out its sheath.
No bloody way my armors going to protect me against that, the Dark Elf thought. She felt humiliated having to do this, but she had no choice.
She turned her head towards Eddie, fighting a swarm of Imperial scum.
"EDDIE! BLOODY HELP! the Dark Elf screamed, praying to gods she did not worship for a response...
The setting changes from World of Ruyn to Old Forest Road
"Hey, hey, watch the shoes!" Gregory snapped at Felix, and abruptly stopped in the middle of harnessing a dopey, splotched horse with doleful brown eyes to his rickety cart, and turned his attention to Alexandria. "Don't touch anything!"
"Quit yer flappin," The Halfling retorted. "Your wagon's older'n dirt, and besides, ye ain't got naught but dirty linens and old boxes up there."
"I'll have you know, those are priceless antiques!" the errand-runner barked.
"Don't forget," the Halfling cautioned the duo, waggling a finger at Alex as she climbed onto the dusty platform, maneuvering boxes, and sat down next to a half-open crate with the words, 'Take to Arielis' scrawled in fresh paint on the side. "Be back at the Hall by tomorrow evening. Uthis' been working all day on that spell... Be a real pity to see all that magic go to waste."
"Wouldn't it," Gregory muttered under his breath.
...
On their way out of the city, sans one Halfling, the grumpy errand-runner, silent since leaving his house, maintained at least an appearance of aquiescence aside from the annoyed looks he gave Felix, until he suddenly cried out and yanked on the reins, bringing the horse to a full stop in the middle of the street.
"No, get off!" he shrieked, shooing at a lithe black creature that had jumped into the driver seat next to him and surreptitiously wormed its way onto his lap. "Bad, bad kitty. No!"
Gregory attempted to shove the cat away, but it nosed his arm and slinked underneath. He drew back, as if in horror, and tried to grab the feline by the scruff. The cat yowled and leaped, just missing his head, and scrabbled over his shoulder, onto one of the boxes next to Alexandria.
The errand-runner suddenly held his breath and put a finger under his nose, turning his face toward the late afternoon sunshine.
"Ah-ah-ah," he heaved, tossing his head back, mouth wide open, and sneezed, "Choo! Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!"
Sniffling, he wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve and glared over at the cat, who only blinked in response.
"Stupid animal. Fine, he's your problem now," Gregory grumbled and picked up the reins.
As the cart began to move again, the feline sat down and peered back and forth between the duo, licking his chops, probably looking for his next victim.
"Quit yer flappin," The Halfling retorted. "Your wagon's older'n dirt, and besides, ye ain't got naught but dirty linens and old boxes up there."
"I'll have you know, those are priceless antiques!" the errand-runner barked.
"Don't forget," the Halfling cautioned the duo, waggling a finger at Alex as she climbed onto the dusty platform, maneuvering boxes, and sat down next to a half-open crate with the words, 'Take to Arielis' scrawled in fresh paint on the side. "Be back at the Hall by tomorrow evening. Uthis' been working all day on that spell... Be a real pity to see all that magic go to waste."
"Wouldn't it," Gregory muttered under his breath.
...
On their way out of the city, sans one Halfling, the grumpy errand-runner, silent since leaving his house, maintained at least an appearance of aquiescence aside from the annoyed looks he gave Felix, until he suddenly cried out and yanked on the reins, bringing the horse to a full stop in the middle of the street.
"No, get off!" he shrieked, shooing at a lithe black creature that had jumped into the driver seat next to him and surreptitiously wormed its way onto his lap. "Bad, bad kitty. No!"
Gregory attempted to shove the cat away, but it nosed his arm and slinked underneath. He drew back, as if in horror, and tried to grab the feline by the scruff. The cat yowled and leaped, just missing his head, and scrabbled over his shoulder, onto one of the boxes next to Alexandria.
The errand-runner suddenly held his breath and put a finger under his nose, turning his face toward the late afternoon sunshine.
"Ah-ah-ah," he heaved, tossing his head back, mouth wide open, and sneezed, "Choo! Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!"
Sniffling, he wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve and glared over at the cat, who only blinked in response.
"Stupid animal. Fine, he's your problem now," Gregory grumbled and picked up the reins.
As the cart began to move again, the feline sat down and peered back and forth between the duo, licking his chops, probably looking for his next victim.
The setting changes from Old Forest Road to Embassy
If only you knew, Sylwyn thought to herself, but the glint in her eyes...
"I see," she replied, that mischievous little half-smile , a sure sign she might be up to no good, tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Sylwyn managed to pry her roving gaze from those sculpted shoulders bathed in moonlight, long enough to draw in as much breath as she could muster. I must be dreaming, she risked one more peek as she pulled the rusty lever to the spigot in the middle of the room, Goddess, if this is a dream...
Water began to trickle from the faucet until she lifted the lever all the way up, releasing a gushing torrent that spilled into a large bucket and spattered her dress with dark spots. Lightly stepping on the hem, she turned to their inebriated charge, hands on her hips, her smile replaced by pursed lips.
"Alright, you, arms up," she said sternly, and ignored his grumbles of protest, instead peeling off the outerwear of his crimson uniform, followed by his under shirt, and pointed at the closest washbasin. One firm hand pressed between his shoulder blades, she pushed him toward the edge of tub. "I'd sooner dunk you a few times just to see if you come out clean, but this will suffice. Bend over."
...
The Chancellor made no move to unsheathe his sword, his darkened gaze shifting between the two guardsmen barring his path. There was something different behind those burning hues, not the look of an enraged man, but something far more calculated, as anger driven so far into madness he just as soon might plot the ruin of a kingdom as lop off the head of any who would dare stand in his way.
"Is that so? I suggest you check his office again. I'll even spare your miserable careers the humiliation by allowing you to escort me yourself."
"I see," she replied, that mischievous little half-smile , a sure sign she might be up to no good, tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Sylwyn managed to pry her roving gaze from those sculpted shoulders bathed in moonlight, long enough to draw in as much breath as she could muster. I must be dreaming, she risked one more peek as she pulled the rusty lever to the spigot in the middle of the room, Goddess, if this is a dream...
Water began to trickle from the faucet until she lifted the lever all the way up, releasing a gushing torrent that spilled into a large bucket and spattered her dress with dark spots. Lightly stepping on the hem, she turned to their inebriated charge, hands on her hips, her smile replaced by pursed lips.
"Alright, you, arms up," she said sternly, and ignored his grumbles of protest, instead peeling off the outerwear of his crimson uniform, followed by his under shirt, and pointed at the closest washbasin. One firm hand pressed between his shoulder blades, she pushed him toward the edge of tub. "I'd sooner dunk you a few times just to see if you come out clean, but this will suffice. Bend over."
...
The Chancellor made no move to unsheathe his sword, his darkened gaze shifting between the two guardsmen barring his path. There was something different behind those burning hues, not the look of an enraged man, but something far more calculated, as anger driven so far into madness he just as soon might plot the ruin of a kingdom as lop off the head of any who would dare stand in his way.
"Is that so? I suggest you check his office again. I'll even spare your miserable careers the humiliation by allowing you to escort me yourself."
The setting changes from World of Ruyn to Embassy
The dust on the vacant shelves stirred only when fire finally sprung from the ragged end of an old torch. Karem had found it buried beneath a forgotten dingy sheet, and had to fuss over the mildly damp wood with the blade and stone, but a spark finally caught. When it did, he thought he caught Sylwyn’s head turn quickly away as the firelight rose. Could he have done something so right that even an unfortunate turn of events could not turn a woman away from him?
Just as quickly, whatever expression Karem hoped he saw was replaced by one of tough love as she faced the unfortunate guardsman. For all his protests, he was in no state to argue and complied with her requests.
The desolate, stale scent of a place that saw little life within its walls was replaced by the fresher one of groundwater. Easily unbalanced by Sylwyn’s firm hand, the man stumbled forward and caught himself along the sides of a washbasin.
“Don’t be too hard on him yet. He’ll regret everything in the morning,” said Karem as he placed the lightly burning torch in its wall mounted copper holder, clearing the thick spider webs that stretched across it as he did so.
In more ways than one, he added to himself.
Lifting the tin pail in one swift motion, Karem tipped it over into the old washbasin. The icy contents mercilessly drenched the head and shoulders of the topless man that stood in the way.
“Cold,” he gasped, but seemed to regain some vague remnant of alertness at the shock.
Karem simply replaced the pail under the spigot and let it run again. If it wouldn’t be needed at the moment, some other soul might find use for it that night.
The sight of fresh water seemed to memorize the drunken guard for a moment as he bent over it. Cupping it with one hand as he supported himself with the other, he drank greedily.
“Come on man, don’t be stingy,” commanded Karem as he lightly pushed the guard down closer to the basin.
His jaw and shoulders were set with a hint of tension as he picked up the empty flask and filled it with clean water. It would be enough to get the man started on a process that Karem knew one of his comrades would ensure was completed. As much as he respected and appreciated Sylwyn’s dauntless sincerity, he had no intention of disgracing the Embassy Guard further by demonstrating how its members knew how to pump their own stomachs. He suspected that this whole situation might not actually lower himself in her eyes, but it was a personal matter of principal. Of pride. They would see the man to the barracks and that would be the end of it
********
The guard paused, considering Calihal's words. He was mildly irritated at the renitence, although he had expected it might happen. He was hesitant to trouble Cylas with matters that were delegated to him to deal with, but if the Chancellor spoke the truth . . . You're too kind. Fine. If you really insist.
"We're honored. Come," he answered just as coldly, if for no other reason than to perhaps to find an excuse to demonstrate how miserable the skills his career had taught him could make an enemy. Guardsmen could make very convenient allies, and amazingly annoying enemies.
Both guards returned the spears to their sides and took position with Calihal between them.
His comrade felt the hair on the back of his neck rise at the darkness he saw creep across the elf's features, rising from the depths of those crimson eyes. His shoulders tensed, and he did not remove his hand from the hilt of his sword as they walked.
Just as quickly, whatever expression Karem hoped he saw was replaced by one of tough love as she faced the unfortunate guardsman. For all his protests, he was in no state to argue and complied with her requests.
The desolate, stale scent of a place that saw little life within its walls was replaced by the fresher one of groundwater. Easily unbalanced by Sylwyn’s firm hand, the man stumbled forward and caught himself along the sides of a washbasin.
“Don’t be too hard on him yet. He’ll regret everything in the morning,” said Karem as he placed the lightly burning torch in its wall mounted copper holder, clearing the thick spider webs that stretched across it as he did so.
In more ways than one, he added to himself.
Lifting the tin pail in one swift motion, Karem tipped it over into the old washbasin. The icy contents mercilessly drenched the head and shoulders of the topless man that stood in the way.
“Cold,” he gasped, but seemed to regain some vague remnant of alertness at the shock.
Karem simply replaced the pail under the spigot and let it run again. If it wouldn’t be needed at the moment, some other soul might find use for it that night.
The sight of fresh water seemed to memorize the drunken guard for a moment as he bent over it. Cupping it with one hand as he supported himself with the other, he drank greedily.
“Come on man, don’t be stingy,” commanded Karem as he lightly pushed the guard down closer to the basin.
His jaw and shoulders were set with a hint of tension as he picked up the empty flask and filled it with clean water. It would be enough to get the man started on a process that Karem knew one of his comrades would ensure was completed. As much as he respected and appreciated Sylwyn’s dauntless sincerity, he had no intention of disgracing the Embassy Guard further by demonstrating how its members knew how to pump their own stomachs. He suspected that this whole situation might not actually lower himself in her eyes, but it was a personal matter of principal. Of pride. They would see the man to the barracks and that would be the end of it
********
The guard paused, considering Calihal's words. He was mildly irritated at the renitence, although he had expected it might happen. He was hesitant to trouble Cylas with matters that were delegated to him to deal with, but if the Chancellor spoke the truth . . . You're too kind. Fine. If you really insist.
"We're honored. Come," he answered just as coldly, if for no other reason than to perhaps to find an excuse to demonstrate how miserable the skills his career had taught him could make an enemy. Guardsmen could make very convenient allies, and amazingly annoying enemies.
Both guards returned the spears to their sides and took position with Calihal between them.
His comrade felt the hair on the back of his neck rise at the darkness he saw creep across the elf's features, rising from the depths of those crimson eyes. His shoulders tensed, and he did not remove his hand from the hilt of his sword as they walked.
The setting changes from Embassy to Pools of Sorrow
Zabu's claws scrabbled for purchase on the cavern wall, but the serpent moved over his legs, its papery dorsal fins brushing his abdomen, and wound round his left forearm, trying to pry his hand away from the jagged rock. Another snake slithered up his back, and in the faint light, he saw cresting his shoulder the tiny mouth of a hagfish with circular rows of fangs and two suckerlike appendages protruding from the sides of its head. The hagfish emitted a high-pitched scree, joined by a chorus of shrill, unearthly wails that filled the air, and within seconds, the Rith'na felt the water churn around him. Several more serpents began to wrap around his extremities as the one on Zabu's attached its suckers to his shoulder and arched its eely body, lunging for his throat.
The setting changes from Pools of Sorrow to Arisha
Grinning still as fights broke out between brigands and mariners, Eddie whipped out his flintlock pistol and fired off a warning shot that ricocheted off the cross tree supporting the central mainsail some thirty meters meters above them. Startled swordsmen from both sides momentarily broke step and looked about for the source of the gunfire or to see who or what had been hit before continuing their duels. The Ravens leader only glanced up toward the lower platform surrounding the schooner's main mast, where the thief, precariously balanced on one side of the crosstree, nodded at the Ravens leader and started cutting through the frayed ropes of the shroud.
Eddie jammed another round into his pistol and ducked just in time to avoid a sword swinging past the top of his head. "That wasn't very nice," he commented, watching glass shatter as the blade struck one of the windows of the ship's deckhouse with a resonating crash.
The soldier, a rough-looking blond fellow grimaced, tightening both hands around his weapon. "I'll kill you!" he swore, and pulled back for another swing.
"I'd rather you didn't," Eddie grunted. Lowering his head, he barreled barreled into the bigger man, arms outstretched to grapple him around the chest, effectively toppling his center of gravity, and sent him sprawling halfway over the starboard side.
The soldier glanced back as his sword fell into the sea with a loud plunk.
"Here, let me help you retrieve that," Eddie suggested, and conked him on the head with his gun before shoving him overboard. He craned his neck, listening to the resulting splash with a smug smile.
"Eddie! Bloody help!" he heard Taena scream, and turned back to into the fray to see the ship's captain all decked out in the navy's roughspun casual attire, only a crimson sash with an official emblem to signify his status.
The Red Ravens leader had spent enough years pirating at sea to learn the ranks and garb of navy seamen. This Imperial pig was no different.
"Now, now," he began coolly on approach, briefly looking up to see the thief had cut most of the mainmast's support ropes, and brought his pistol to bear in their direction, despite not exactly having a clear shot. "Put that sword away, and we can settle our differences like men."
Eddie jammed another round into his pistol and ducked just in time to avoid a sword swinging past the top of his head. "That wasn't very nice," he commented, watching glass shatter as the blade struck one of the windows of the ship's deckhouse with a resonating crash.
The soldier, a rough-looking blond fellow grimaced, tightening both hands around his weapon. "I'll kill you!" he swore, and pulled back for another swing.
"I'd rather you didn't," Eddie grunted. Lowering his head, he barreled barreled into the bigger man, arms outstretched to grapple him around the chest, effectively toppling his center of gravity, and sent him sprawling halfway over the starboard side.
The soldier glanced back as his sword fell into the sea with a loud plunk.
"Here, let me help you retrieve that," Eddie suggested, and conked him on the head with his gun before shoving him overboard. He craned his neck, listening to the resulting splash with a smug smile.
"Eddie! Bloody help!" he heard Taena scream, and turned back to into the fray to see the ship's captain all decked out in the navy's roughspun casual attire, only a crimson sash with an official emblem to signify his status.
The Red Ravens leader had spent enough years pirating at sea to learn the ranks and garb of navy seamen. This Imperial pig was no different.
"Now, now," he began coolly on approach, briefly looking up to see the thief had cut most of the mainmast's support ropes, and brought his pistol to bear in their direction, despite not exactly having a clear shot. "Put that sword away, and we can settle our differences like men."
The setting changes from Arisha to Pools of Sorrow
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Claws grinding against the jagged stone walls of thee tunnel, finding a small grip to hoist himself up, Zabu struggled as he felt more serpentine shapes coiling around him. Feeling the serpent shape's papery dorsal fin brush against his abdomen, which brought extreme discomfort to the Rith'na causing him to struggle more. Then the sudden feeling of a chilling slime seemed to slither up his back before coming into his view at his shoulder. Zabu's eyes widened to see it appeared to be a hagfish complete with circular rows of fangs and sucker like appendages at the side of it's head. Zabu seemed to cry out a yelp as the eerie hagfish screeched out a sound of ungodly proportions thanks to the walls having echoing the sound. Moments later Zabu would feel more enter the area, beginning to wrap around his feet, up his legs, and around his wrists and arms. Zabu was in a pinch going with most of his strength attempting to tug his limbs free from these parasitic serpent creatures that bound him. After a mere half second after this transpired Zabu watched as the one hagfish on his shoulder made it's move, attaching it's sucker to his shoulder causing him to yelp feeling the attachment he watched as it lunged for his throat. Using more of his strength now Zabu attempted to break his constricted arm free of grip of one of the eel like appendages that coiled itself around it. If he could do so he might just be able to block the hagfish's lunge at his neck with his fore arm or at least swat it away. He hoped he can break free of these creature and simply attempt to vault down the tunnel, even if it meant he had to sustain injuries. He would Rather that, then become something's meal.
The setting changes from Pools of Sorrow to Arisha
“He won’t help you, dearie,” Roderick half growled and half chuckled at the Dark Elf before him as he brought his weapon dangerously close to her throat.
The light blade’s razor-like sharpness was something he made a habit of maintaining. Being a man, he considered keeping this one as a personal hostage. If this ‘Eddie’ was as willing to rise to her defense as she hoped, he might pay handsomely for her safe return. Until then . . .
Roderick halted his advance and turned his head sharply at what sounded like the woman’s aspiring savior.
“Freebooters like you have no place among the ranks of men,” he spat as he delivered a heavy kick to the Amazonian at his feet, resting his weather-worn boot on her shoulder so as to keep her pinned to the bloody deck.
Roderick had dueled and looked down both ends of canons enough times to keep his head when faced with one who he considered a pretentious youth. Did this lawless vermin really expect him to back down after attacking his ship? Not while he still called himself her Captain.
Motioning for the stand-by archers to come on deck, he held his ground and smirked as they readied their bows. The Imperial Captain understood the romantic allure of firearms, but arrows were notoriously more accurate than an old flintlock pistol.
The light blade’s razor-like sharpness was something he made a habit of maintaining. Being a man, he considered keeping this one as a personal hostage. If this ‘Eddie’ was as willing to rise to her defense as she hoped, he might pay handsomely for her safe return. Until then . . .
Roderick halted his advance and turned his head sharply at what sounded like the woman’s aspiring savior.
“Freebooters like you have no place among the ranks of men,” he spat as he delivered a heavy kick to the Amazonian at his feet, resting his weather-worn boot on her shoulder so as to keep her pinned to the bloody deck.
Roderick had dueled and looked down both ends of canons enough times to keep his head when faced with one who he considered a pretentious youth. Did this lawless vermin really expect him to back down after attacking his ship? Not while he still called himself her Captain.
Motioning for the stand-by archers to come on deck, he held his ground and smirked as they readied their bows. The Imperial Captain understood the romantic allure of firearms, but arrows were notoriously more accurate than an old flintlock pistol.
The setting changes from Arisha to Old Forest Road
"Quit yer flappin," The Halfling retorted. "Your wagon's older'n dirt, and besides, ye ain't got naught but dirty linens and old boxes up there."
"I'll have you know, those are priceless antiques!" the errand-runner barked.
"He's right, Ferdy," Felix added jokingly as he clambered aboard the cart. "Those boxes are priceless antiques. They've even got some valuable-looking mildew on 'em, too!" Meanwhile, Alexandria listened to what Ferdirand told her before assuring the Halfling that she'd make sure they were back in time for the spell.
...
The journey to Gooseneck was pretty uneventful, but to the duo it was a welcome break from the usual adventuring career. It seemed like, for the first time in ages, they could just sit back and watch the world go by for a while. Felix put one arm around his friend as they watched the clouds in idle contentment. Suddenly, they were surprised by Gregory's loud sneezing. Just like that, their little moment was gone.
When the cat decided to take a closer look at the two mages, Felix wasted no time in picking the cat up, probably to do the very same thing. However, before the pyromancer could utter the blatantly obvious concerning how adorable the little feline was, both he and Alex started sneezing uncontrollably. And yes, quite a bit of it went in the poor cat's face.
"I'll have you know, those are priceless antiques!" the errand-runner barked.
"He's right, Ferdy," Felix added jokingly as he clambered aboard the cart. "Those boxes are priceless antiques. They've even got some valuable-looking mildew on 'em, too!" Meanwhile, Alexandria listened to what Ferdirand told her before assuring the Halfling that she'd make sure they were back in time for the spell.
...
The journey to Gooseneck was pretty uneventful, but to the duo it was a welcome break from the usual adventuring career. It seemed like, for the first time in ages, they could just sit back and watch the world go by for a while. Felix put one arm around his friend as they watched the clouds in idle contentment. Suddenly, they were surprised by Gregory's loud sneezing. Just like that, their little moment was gone.
When the cat decided to take a closer look at the two mages, Felix wasted no time in picking the cat up, probably to do the very same thing. However, before the pyromancer could utter the blatantly obvious concerning how adorable the little feline was, both he and Alex started sneezing uncontrollably. And yes, quite a bit of it went in the poor cat's face.
The setting changes from Old Forest Road to Ruins of Bael-jar
Follow the north tunnels, Harvest's emerald-eyed beauty had told him, her fingers lightly stroking the base of his jaw. Go through the Ruins of Bael-jar. There, you will find a hidden passage into the Stronghold, where I have opened a Gateway for you to retrieve the Arabimitore. Once you reach the Isles, seek out and slay the Champion to unlock its power. Hurry, for once the portal collapses, all within it will be trapped in the Maidar. And, she added, her lips brushing his ear before planting a soft kiss on his temple, you wouldn't want to be left behind...
...
With David close on her heels in avid, mostly one-sided conversation, the Drakryvon warrior maintained a brisk pace, forcing the boy to jog to keep up with her as she caught up with B'rnard.
"I don't get it," David said haltingly between his resounding footfalls along the narrow tunnel. "Why would savage- sorry, barbarians, I mean..."
"Did anyone ever tell you ye talk too much, boy?" Siv riposted, shaking her head and rolling her eyes in Br'nard's direction as if to say, I told you we should have left him.
"Be easy on him, lass," he urged. "He's had a hard way to go, today, and spilling blood ain't everyone's idea of ventin'."
"If he doesna quit flapping his gums, I'll do more than spill-"
"Since when do the Middle Clans come this far east just to get a hand in killing some Orcs?" David blurted out.
Br'nard peered down at the Shield Maiden, arching one brow. The collar of her tunic had slipped down again, hinting at the scar nearly concealed by the fabric. Could it be? The barbarian just shook his head. He had heard whispers on the north winds of a warrior in the south who would rise up to unite the outlying clans under one banner, but if the rumors about awakening the dragon-god were true... He glanced around at the assortment of men, his gaze momentarily coming to rest on the mercenary sporting the wolf mask, and decided against confronting her outright just yet. Too many eyes and ears.
"Lad's got a point.," he told her simply.
"It's none o' yer business, ye'd do well ta stay out of it."
"Mind yer tongue," Br'nard growled, crossing his arms and leaning toward her."Gods be damned before I take orders from a-"
Stopping suddenly in her tracks, Siv narrowed her eyes, locking her stare on the darkness reaching far beyond their line of sight.
"What're ye-"
"Shh!" she hissed, putting a finger to her lips.
About to protest, Br'nard heard in the voicelessness a faint, but intermittent sound, harsh,like the ring of steel on stone, emanating from depths that broke pattern from the steady hum to which his ears had become accustomed. Murmurs cropped up from the men behind him in the tunnel, and he held up a hand to quiet them, cautiously advancing toward the entrance, but the Drakryvon had already crossed the threshold, her torch illuminating and the remnants of sculpted columns reaching high into the cave ceiling. Closing her eyes, Siv ran a hand along the weathered, chiseled walls, her expression calm as her leather glove scraped against the marble facade, exposed fingers gliding along the stonework.
"What is it," Br'nard asked in a low tone, as if his very voice would disrupt that primal, almost symbiotic exchange between host and vassal he knew only the middle clansmen could possibly fathom. He had heard rumors of Drakryvon whose psychometric ability extended to a sort of mind-link between people as well, and the thought of what secrets his mind would yield to the warrior's fingertips, what of her knowledge he might inadvertently uncover... was enough to make him a wee bit apprehensive. "What do ye see?"
Seconds of silence passed between them before she opened her eyes again and met him with that icy gaze.
The shaken intensity therein revealed whatever she had gleaned was beyond even her comprehension when she answered evenly, "There is something down here."
...
With David close on her heels in avid, mostly one-sided conversation, the Drakryvon warrior maintained a brisk pace, forcing the boy to jog to keep up with her as she caught up with B'rnard.
"I don't get it," David said haltingly between his resounding footfalls along the narrow tunnel. "Why would savage- sorry, barbarians, I mean..."
"Did anyone ever tell you ye talk too much, boy?" Siv riposted, shaking her head and rolling her eyes in Br'nard's direction as if to say, I told you we should have left him.
"Be easy on him, lass," he urged. "He's had a hard way to go, today, and spilling blood ain't everyone's idea of ventin'."
"If he doesna quit flapping his gums, I'll do more than spill-"
"Since when do the Middle Clans come this far east just to get a hand in killing some Orcs?" David blurted out.
Br'nard peered down at the Shield Maiden, arching one brow. The collar of her tunic had slipped down again, hinting at the scar nearly concealed by the fabric. Could it be? The barbarian just shook his head. He had heard whispers on the north winds of a warrior in the south who would rise up to unite the outlying clans under one banner, but if the rumors about awakening the dragon-god were true... He glanced around at the assortment of men, his gaze momentarily coming to rest on the mercenary sporting the wolf mask, and decided against confronting her outright just yet. Too many eyes and ears.
"Lad's got a point.," he told her simply.
"It's none o' yer business, ye'd do well ta stay out of it."
"Mind yer tongue," Br'nard growled, crossing his arms and leaning toward her."Gods be damned before I take orders from a-"
Stopping suddenly in her tracks, Siv narrowed her eyes, locking her stare on the darkness reaching far beyond their line of sight.
"What're ye-"
"Shh!" she hissed, putting a finger to her lips.
About to protest, Br'nard heard in the voicelessness a faint, but intermittent sound, harsh,like the ring of steel on stone, emanating from depths that broke pattern from the steady hum to which his ears had become accustomed. Murmurs cropped up from the men behind him in the tunnel, and he held up a hand to quiet them, cautiously advancing toward the entrance, but the Drakryvon had already crossed the threshold, her torch illuminating and the remnants of sculpted columns reaching high into the cave ceiling. Closing her eyes, Siv ran a hand along the weathered, chiseled walls, her expression calm as her leather glove scraped against the marble facade, exposed fingers gliding along the stonework.
"What is it," Br'nard asked in a low tone, as if his very voice would disrupt that primal, almost symbiotic exchange between host and vassal he knew only the middle clansmen could possibly fathom. He had heard rumors of Drakryvon whose psychometric ability extended to a sort of mind-link between people as well, and the thought of what secrets his mind would yield to the warrior's fingertips, what of her knowledge he might inadvertently uncover... was enough to make him a wee bit apprehensive. "What do ye see?"
Seconds of silence passed between them before she opened her eyes again and met him with that icy gaze.
The shaken intensity therein revealed whatever she had gleaned was beyond even her comprehension when she answered evenly, "There is something down here."
The setting changes from Ruins of Bael-jar to Embassy
Almost an hour had passed since she sighted the crimson flag, and there was yet no sign of Sennex. Wherever he had gone in pursuit of the wayward schooner could not have been too far off the coast; during peacetime, the Legion seldom sent more than a handful of ships on diplomatic missions. If Sennex hasn't returned, Sylwyn thought, keeping an eye on the foggy horizon as they led the guardsman back into the East Wing, something must be happening out there. The Dreamwalker could neither lose his way nor venture further than necessary from his mistress, and already Sylwyn shifted in discomfort as she felt invisible threads pulling, braiding together the tethers of their very existence, reminding her of the newly formed link between servant and master.
Still, she remained close by Karem, merely allowing him to take his fellow guardsman to the North Wing. It was not that she had enough of 'running with the boys' for one night, but the two men no doubt had a few loose ends to tie up. Willing to overlook what otherwise would be considered a scandalous affair in the realm of politicians, Sylwyn also knew whatever happened behind barracks doors stayed there, and she waited patiently for her escort to reemerge.
Hands folded with fingers clasped around her sandals dangling by the heels, she leaned against the wall, the weight of the night's events catching up to her. In the span of a few hours, she had wined and dined with the best and worst of dinner guests and been taxed to her limit to uphold a dignified appearance while faced with a hard-pressed deal meant to alter the course of the empire. Then, there was Karem, whom she doubted fully understood the political implications of their supposed courtship. No way would the senior guard wish to keep up the charade. As much as she pestered him and spent her free time in his presence, she knew she should not expect more than he had already given.
Nonetheless, Sylwyn did not discount what had transpired between them back on the beach. She might have blamed it on the sudden the pressure to adapt to unfolding events, or too much wine, but there was no denying what they had shared was genuine. There was something tangible, something poignant, a sense of breathlessness, the feeling that her heart stopped when he took her in his arms and started anew the moment their lips met. I'm still waiting to catch my breath, she thought, and realized, for the first time, perhaps, that she just might be in love with Karem.
The repetitive tap-tapping of footfalls in the long hall caught Sylwyn's attention. Glancing back toward the barracks, she spotted three indistinct shapes in the flickering shadows moving along the walls. Embassy guards, by the sound of their careful, measured gaits, were leading someone down the Wing, the intermittent steps of their charge hurried, as if eager to arrive at their destination. She listened until the footsteps diminished and a door shut somewhere in the neighboring corridor. To where, and whom could the guards be accompanying at this hour?
Still, she remained close by Karem, merely allowing him to take his fellow guardsman to the North Wing. It was not that she had enough of 'running with the boys' for one night, but the two men no doubt had a few loose ends to tie up. Willing to overlook what otherwise would be considered a scandalous affair in the realm of politicians, Sylwyn also knew whatever happened behind barracks doors stayed there, and she waited patiently for her escort to reemerge.
Hands folded with fingers clasped around her sandals dangling by the heels, she leaned against the wall, the weight of the night's events catching up to her. In the span of a few hours, she had wined and dined with the best and worst of dinner guests and been taxed to her limit to uphold a dignified appearance while faced with a hard-pressed deal meant to alter the course of the empire. Then, there was Karem, whom she doubted fully understood the political implications of their supposed courtship. No way would the senior guard wish to keep up the charade. As much as she pestered him and spent her free time in his presence, she knew she should not expect more than he had already given.
Nonetheless, Sylwyn did not discount what had transpired between them back on the beach. She might have blamed it on the sudden the pressure to adapt to unfolding events, or too much wine, but there was no denying what they had shared was genuine. There was something tangible, something poignant, a sense of breathlessness, the feeling that her heart stopped when he took her in his arms and started anew the moment their lips met. I'm still waiting to catch my breath, she thought, and realized, for the first time, perhaps, that she just might be in love with Karem.
The repetitive tap-tapping of footfalls in the long hall caught Sylwyn's attention. Glancing back toward the barracks, she spotted three indistinct shapes in the flickering shadows moving along the walls. Embassy guards, by the sound of their careful, measured gaits, were leading someone down the Wing, the intermittent steps of their charge hurried, as if eager to arrive at their destination. She listened until the footsteps diminished and a door shut somewhere in the neighboring corridor. To where, and whom could the guards be accompanying at this hour?
The setting changes from Embassy to World of Ruyn
Silent as night, Sennex circled the Seafire just low enough for his sharp owl eyes to penetrate the darkness and observe the bloodshed below. More than a few of the raggedy attackers actually seemed to be enjoying the carnage. So enamored were the participants in their deadly dance that no one cared to look up.
They may or may not have caught his gray, broad-winged shape against the mist, nor given him much thought if they had. But they would be poor excuses for seamen if they had failed to note the lone, scraggily figure climbing the ship’s mast and commandeering the crow’s nest, turning the sails to take the ship towards the dock. Naturally, the pirates and sailors below appeared to be fully engrossed in what appeared to be a stalemate between the bloody redhead and the Imperial archers – over a woman. Typical.
Sennex had to wonder – why this particular schooner? Was it just for the sake of a cover to get close enough to the Embassy for the real loot? Or was there a darker, more sinister purpose? Those would surely be the questions on Sylwyn’s lips, and perhaps his own. He would certainly be conscripted in an attempt to find out if this was the case. Might as well, then . . . The situation on deck provided as good an advantage as any.
With the speed and agility of a practiced hunter, Sennex swooped down and pressed his wings close as he dropped through the open door leading below deck. Re-expanding their broad length at the last moment to turn his kamikaze fall into a controlled landing onto the wooden steps, he took in the catacombs of the ship. A standard storage area to the careless eye, but Sennex’s natural instinct sensed another’s presence, and his borrowed night vision and sense of smell detected the rouge figure quickly.
Releasing an ear-splitting screech, he wasted no time flying directly at the crates around the man’s head, sending the carefully stacked cargo upon him. It was enough to produce a cry of surprise followed by a rather creative cuss cut short as he was sent into unconsciousness.
Landing safely away from the wreckage in a comparatively clear area, a swirl of dust and cold night sea are sucked in from the still-open door slapped around him as Sennex assumed his natural form.
Now able to freely maneuver unhindered, his unchanged molten gaze swept the area for anything of interest. It stopped upon reaching an unusually well-kept crate. Although it sported more than a few scratches from travel, the wood had not assumed the dingy appearance of the other storage containers.
Hefting the thing upon an intact stack or ordinary crates, Sennex inspected it. No hinges, no nails - only solid planks of a rich brown wood with an unusually lightly colored grain. Looked at closely, its pattern made regular, undulating patterns vaguely resembling the tattoos winding up his arms. But it only appeared that way if he stared at it too long, which, he realized, he probably had. Shaking off whatever unnatural power had mesmerized him to it, Sennex attempted to lift what he could only presume to be the crate's lid.
The force of something from inside was so powerful, that he immediately let go with a backward step. Although no longer touching the ungodly thing, Sennex could still feel whatever skin he had tingle with the pins-and-needles like sensation, which had crawled up with lightning speed up his arms. It was as if a living force had sparked upwards through him, causing the usually dark tattoos to momentarily glow with life.
Once his stunned expression was replaced with one of perturbed determination, Sennex tried a second time with the same result. Whatever this . . . box was would not allow him to open it.
Even a bolt of liquid gold auric energy was absorbed by the enchanted wood with nothing more than a small bounce. Whatever - whoever - had done this was at least as powerful as his first mistress. As powerful as the gods themselves.
With time racing against him, Sennex performed a quick body search of his unconscious victim. He was not quite so low as to unnecessarily strip the man of his weapons, but was very happy to take a ring of iron-cast keys, one of which hung on the rust chain by an ornate, hand-crafted top. That looked important.
Tossing the treasure on the most clutter-free area of the floor, Sennex used the sound of fighting from above to once more take the owl's disguise. He shot into the night air the same way he had come, keys in beak. Before anyone could ask themselves what owl took wing over sea at night, he was already under cover of the low lying fog. With wing-tips just barely touching the glassy surface of the sea, the Dreamwalker flew on stealthy wing towards shore.
*******
In the barracks, Karem was met with a round of uproarious cheering by way of greeting. Sailor, guardsman, and Dark Elf alike was gathered around a campfire lit silver by the moonlight streaming through the open windows. Or maybe it was silver to being with, and simply used the power of those moons for fuel, for the light immediately surrounding the dancing flames seemed to be consumed by and reflected back from them.
Had he not had a miserably drunk soldier hanging on his shoulder, Karem would have been inclined to show his displeasure with more than a gruff "Don't burn your bunks. You're not getting new ones."
It had been a long night, with as many low points as high. But how the best moments of that evening had been worth it . . . In any case, Karem understood their need to enjoy their night of freedom, but declined their invitation to join in on the borderline reckless form of celebration.
"But . . . "
"Jack," mumbled the guardsman with only the vaguest remnants of sobriety.
"Jack here would be honored to have you demonstrate how safe that fire is," offered Karem.
This was met with equal parts amusement and disappointment.
"I expect you all to present yourselves for inspection promptly at 0600 in the drill yard. Full uniform, swords polished, bows ready. Especially you," he added with an encouraging push towards the band of military men
Groans of despair rose from the guardsmen, for they knew that having to rise an extra hour early in full uniform meant not only additional training - hard training - but also the likely chance that they would have to demonstrate their skills in one test or another. And, being a fraternal group of military men, they were able to deduce the likely culprit of the order.
Karem, on his part, left Jack in the care of his comrades and their guests.
"Take care of him," he called over his shoulder as he threw his crimson dress coat onto his bunk and left to finish his duties as escort.
They may or may not have caught his gray, broad-winged shape against the mist, nor given him much thought if they had. But they would be poor excuses for seamen if they had failed to note the lone, scraggily figure climbing the ship’s mast and commandeering the crow’s nest, turning the sails to take the ship towards the dock. Naturally, the pirates and sailors below appeared to be fully engrossed in what appeared to be a stalemate between the bloody redhead and the Imperial archers – over a woman. Typical.
Sennex had to wonder – why this particular schooner? Was it just for the sake of a cover to get close enough to the Embassy for the real loot? Or was there a darker, more sinister purpose? Those would surely be the questions on Sylwyn’s lips, and perhaps his own. He would certainly be conscripted in an attempt to find out if this was the case. Might as well, then . . . The situation on deck provided as good an advantage as any.
With the speed and agility of a practiced hunter, Sennex swooped down and pressed his wings close as he dropped through the open door leading below deck. Re-expanding their broad length at the last moment to turn his kamikaze fall into a controlled landing onto the wooden steps, he took in the catacombs of the ship. A standard storage area to the careless eye, but Sennex’s natural instinct sensed another’s presence, and his borrowed night vision and sense of smell detected the rouge figure quickly.
Releasing an ear-splitting screech, he wasted no time flying directly at the crates around the man’s head, sending the carefully stacked cargo upon him. It was enough to produce a cry of surprise followed by a rather creative cuss cut short as he was sent into unconsciousness.
Landing safely away from the wreckage in a comparatively clear area, a swirl of dust and cold night sea are sucked in from the still-open door slapped around him as Sennex assumed his natural form.
Now able to freely maneuver unhindered, his unchanged molten gaze swept the area for anything of interest. It stopped upon reaching an unusually well-kept crate. Although it sported more than a few scratches from travel, the wood had not assumed the dingy appearance of the other storage containers.
Hefting the thing upon an intact stack or ordinary crates, Sennex inspected it. No hinges, no nails - only solid planks of a rich brown wood with an unusually lightly colored grain. Looked at closely, its pattern made regular, undulating patterns vaguely resembling the tattoos winding up his arms. But it only appeared that way if he stared at it too long, which, he realized, he probably had. Shaking off whatever unnatural power had mesmerized him to it, Sennex attempted to lift what he could only presume to be the crate's lid.
The force of something from inside was so powerful, that he immediately let go with a backward step. Although no longer touching the ungodly thing, Sennex could still feel whatever skin he had tingle with the pins-and-needles like sensation, which had crawled up with lightning speed up his arms. It was as if a living force had sparked upwards through him, causing the usually dark tattoos to momentarily glow with life.
Once his stunned expression was replaced with one of perturbed determination, Sennex tried a second time with the same result. Whatever this . . . box was would not allow him to open it.
Even a bolt of liquid gold auric energy was absorbed by the enchanted wood with nothing more than a small bounce. Whatever - whoever - had done this was at least as powerful as his first mistress. As powerful as the gods themselves.
With time racing against him, Sennex performed a quick body search of his unconscious victim. He was not quite so low as to unnecessarily strip the man of his weapons, but was very happy to take a ring of iron-cast keys, one of which hung on the rust chain by an ornate, hand-crafted top. That looked important.
Tossing the treasure on the most clutter-free area of the floor, Sennex used the sound of fighting from above to once more take the owl's disguise. He shot into the night air the same way he had come, keys in beak. Before anyone could ask themselves what owl took wing over sea at night, he was already under cover of the low lying fog. With wing-tips just barely touching the glassy surface of the sea, the Dreamwalker flew on stealthy wing towards shore.
*******
In the barracks, Karem was met with a round of uproarious cheering by way of greeting. Sailor, guardsman, and Dark Elf alike was gathered around a campfire lit silver by the moonlight streaming through the open windows. Or maybe it was silver to being with, and simply used the power of those moons for fuel, for the light immediately surrounding the dancing flames seemed to be consumed by and reflected back from them.
Had he not had a miserably drunk soldier hanging on his shoulder, Karem would have been inclined to show his displeasure with more than a gruff "Don't burn your bunks. You're not getting new ones."
It had been a long night, with as many low points as high. But how the best moments of that evening had been worth it . . . In any case, Karem understood their need to enjoy their night of freedom, but declined their invitation to join in on the borderline reckless form of celebration.
"But . . . "
"Jack," mumbled the guardsman with only the vaguest remnants of sobriety.
"Jack here would be honored to have you demonstrate how safe that fire is," offered Karem.
This was met with equal parts amusement and disappointment.
"I expect you all to present yourselves for inspection promptly at 0600 in the drill yard. Full uniform, swords polished, bows ready. Especially you," he added with an encouraging push towards the band of military men
Groans of despair rose from the guardsmen, for they knew that having to rise an extra hour early in full uniform meant not only additional training - hard training - but also the likely chance that they would have to demonstrate their skills in one test or another. And, being a fraternal group of military men, they were able to deduce the likely culprit of the order.
Karem, on his part, left Jack in the care of his comrades and their guests.
"Take care of him," he called over his shoulder as he threw his crimson dress coat onto his bunk and left to finish his duties as escort.
The setting changes from World of Ruyn to Gooseneck
"Blast it!" Gregory griped, barely giving the feline a backward glance as they turned down the last stretch of road into the outskirts of town. "That's 'Mr. Snuffles', he said mockingly. "The old hag Gertrude's cat got out again. I don't know why she lets that thing run amok. She thinks he's some master magic-sniffer. Well, I'll tell you something, all it does is wreak havoc and make trouble. You can't even get near it without sneezing your head off!"
Mr. Snuffles shook his head, and with a noise that sounded very like a sneeze, wriggled out of Felix's hold using the mage's lap as a launchpad to propel himself into one of the open crates. He poked his head out and glared evilly at the pair before slinking down out of sight, where he remained until at long last, just after nightfall, they pulled into town.
When the errand-runner finally brought the cart to a stop by a group of mages standing near the sundial, the town's local landmark, a tall, white-haired woman clad in a belted slate blue robe met the arrival with a stern face. Several of the younger men and women stopped talking amongst themselves and looked up as the duo stepped off the rickety cart.
"Well, well, would you look what the cat dragged in?" someone hollered in the crowd.
No one noticed the black feline creep out of the box and slip to the ground, disappearing into an alleyway, silent as a ghost.
Archmage Tess gave Felix the slightest of nods, whether in approval or acceptance, it was impossible to tell, but her clasped hands twitched in the slightest, as though she wanted to open her arms in that matronly way, but as ever, due to her station, she had her reservations and as such, remained placid.
"Phoenix," one of the guys called, waving him over. "Hey, Phoenix! Man, it's been too long. Where've you been?"
Mr. Snuffles shook his head, and with a noise that sounded very like a sneeze, wriggled out of Felix's hold using the mage's lap as a launchpad to propel himself into one of the open crates. He poked his head out and glared evilly at the pair before slinking down out of sight, where he remained until at long last, just after nightfall, they pulled into town.
When the errand-runner finally brought the cart to a stop by a group of mages standing near the sundial, the town's local landmark, a tall, white-haired woman clad in a belted slate blue robe met the arrival with a stern face. Several of the younger men and women stopped talking amongst themselves and looked up as the duo stepped off the rickety cart.
"Well, well, would you look what the cat dragged in?" someone hollered in the crowd.
No one noticed the black feline creep out of the box and slip to the ground, disappearing into an alleyway, silent as a ghost.
Archmage Tess gave Felix the slightest of nods, whether in approval or acceptance, it was impossible to tell, but her clasped hands twitched in the slightest, as though she wanted to open her arms in that matronly way, but as ever, due to her station, she had her reservations and as such, remained placid.
"Phoenix," one of the guys called, waving him over. "Hey, Phoenix! Man, it's been too long. Where've you been?"
The setting changes from Gooseneck to Pools of Sorrow
Zabu managed to free himself from one hagfish long enough to fling his attacker off, but not before it whipped its head, quick as a blink, and struck, sinking serrated fangs into his forearm, and withdrew the instant the Rith'na vaulted from the wall. He landed in the water with a deafening splash and plunged into the icy depths, barely registering the lacerating pain in his arm when he hit rock bottom, jarring every bone in his body and crushing several hagfish beneath his weight. Tasting water tinged with brine, he drifted toward the surface and found himself afloat downstream with the slow-moving current, his feet no longer touching down, though, for the moment, he seemed to be leaving the serpents behind, that is, until he felt warm liquid running from his arm into the water, and the high-pitched screeches of ravenous hagfish echoed louder and louder in the cavern as they honed in on the scent of fresh blood.
The setting changes from Pools of Sorrow to Blood Fang Caves
Br'nard Even'star cast an eye over his gathered troops.
"Ach hell no,"
Br'nard growled, shaking his head,
"I ain't taking ye lot down intae a Demons nest, ye'll be slaughtered tae a man."
The Barbarian looked towards the General and hefted his axe up over one shoulder.
"I'll do it me'self."
He declared, his tone brooking no argument.
Turning on his heel, the Warrior strode out of the main cavern and down the dark passage, alone, leaving the gathered Soldiers and the strewn bodies of the dead Orcs behind him.
"Ach hell no,"
Br'nard growled, shaking his head,
"I ain't taking ye lot down intae a Demons nest, ye'll be slaughtered tae a man."
The Barbarian looked towards the General and hefted his axe up over one shoulder.
"I'll do it me'self."
He declared, his tone brooking no argument.
Turning on his heel, the Warrior strode out of the main cavern and down the dark passage, alone, leaving the gathered Soldiers and the strewn bodies of the dead Orcs behind him.
View All »Arcs
Arcs are bundles of posts that you can organize on your own. They're useful for telling a story that might span long periods of time or space.
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Game Master Controls
Welcome home, Promethean. Here, you can manage your universe.
Arcs
Arcs are bundles of posts from any location, allowing you to easily capture sub-plots which might be spread out across multiple locations.
Add Quest » Quests
You can create Quests with various rewards, encouraging your players to engage with specific plot lines.
Add Setting » 41 Settings for your players to play in
Settings are the backdrop for the characters in your universe, giving meaning and context to their existence. By creating a number of well-written locations, you can organize your universe into areas and regions.
Navigation
While not required, locations can be organized onto a map. More information soon!
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Collectibles
By creating Collectibles, you can reward your players with unique items that accentuate their character sheets.
Once an Item has been created, it can be spawned in the IC using /spawn Item Name (case-sensitive, as usual) — this can be followed with /take Item Name to retrieve the item into the current character's inventory.
Mobs
Give your Universe life by adding a Mob, which are auto-replenishing NPCs your players can interact with. Useful for some quick hack-and-slash fun!
Mobs can be automated spawns, like rats and bats, or full-on NPCs complete with conversation menus. Use them to enhance your player experience!
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Spawns
Locations where Mobs and Items might appear.
Events
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Orphanage
By marking a character as abandoned, you can offer them to your players as pre-made character sheets.
The Forge
Use your INK to craft new artifacts in Ruyn: The Winds of Fate. Once created, Items cannot be changed, but they can be bought and sold in the marketplace.
Notable Items
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The Market
Buy, sell, and even craft your own items in this universe.
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Open Stores
View All » Add Character » 34 Characters to follow in this universe
Newest
Elderoth Drag'athan
"Family, Duty, Honour."
Taena Noctus
"Men tend to find me exotic, and then get their dirty groping hands all over me.....until I chop them off"
Nostalgic Syndicate
Logic is the beginning of wisdom, not the end
Satinka Mahdis
A good word is an easy obligation. Not to speak ill requires only our silence, which costs us nothing.
Karem Altan
Never forget what a man says to you when he is angry.
Eddie Clarke
"Stand and Deliver!"
Sennex
Honor before glory.
Chancellor Calihal
Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.
Br'nard Even'star
"Last of a dyin' breed!"
Trending
Eddie Clarke
"Stand and Deliver!"
Karem Altan
Never forget what a man says to you when he is angry.
Sennex
Honor before glory.
Taena Noctus
"Men tend to find me exotic, and then get their dirty groping hands all over me.....until I chop them off"
Satinka Mahdis
A good word is an easy obligation. Not to speak ill requires only our silence, which costs us nothing.
Br'nard Even'star
"Last of a dyin' breed!"
Chancellor Calihal
Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.
Elderoth Drag'athan
"Family, Duty, Honour."
Nostalgic Syndicate
Logic is the beginning of wisdom, not the end
Most Followed
Chancellor Calihal
Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.
Br'nard Even'star
"Last of a dyin' breed!"
Sennex
Honor before glory.
Taena Noctus
"Men tend to find me exotic, and then get their dirty groping hands all over me.....until I chop them off"
Elderoth Drag'athan
"Family, Duty, Honour."
Nostalgic Syndicate
Logic is the beginning of wisdom, not the end
Karem Altan
Never forget what a man says to you when he is angry.
Satinka Mahdis
A good word is an easy obligation. Not to speak ill requires only our silence, which costs us nothing.
Eddie Clarke
"Stand and Deliver!"
View All » Places
105 posts · 4 characters present · last post 2012-10-15 21:33:28 »
The Imperial Embassy, located northeast of Port Arn.
20 posts · 4 characters present · last post 2012-09-18 21:01:35 »
Gooseneck Owner: RolePlayGateway
Gooseneck is a small, rural town outside of the Imperial City.
10 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2012-09-12 16:28:08 »
Sewers ↪ Pools of Sorrow Owner: RolePlayGateway
The only danger you will face... is that of succumbing to the madness of a mortal mind.
17 posts · 6 characters present · last post 2012-08-22 23:59:06 »
Arisha Owner: RolePlayGateway
The silver sea, home to all forms of aquatic life, separates Zamil and the High Elf kingdom, Daemus.
6 posts · 5 characters present · last post 2012-08-05 09:44:51 »
Blood Fang Caves ↪ Ruins of Bael-jar Owner: RolePlayGateway
It is said that herein these ruins, and others across the globe lies the hope and fate of civilization as we know it.
64 posts · 2 characters present · last post 2012-07-28 02:38:36 »
World of Ruyn Owner: Sylwyn
Welcome to the World of Ruyn.
30 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-07-16 16:33:05 »
Eytherghymn ↪ Blood Fang Caves Owner: RolePlayGateway
The only good Orc is a dead one.
10 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2012-06-19 06:56:19 »
Old Forest Road Owner: RolePlayGateway
The northern road leading out of the Imperial City.
10 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-05-12 21:18:36 »
Imperial City ↪ Academy for the Arcane Arts Owner: RolePlayGateway
Only the most talented magic-users are accepted.
9 posts · 3 characters present · last post 2012-05-09 07:35:41 »
Gooseneck ↪ Grimm's Books Owner: RolePlayGateway
A bookshop. Not much else to be said here.
16 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-03-15 03:00:05 »
Imperial City ↪ Sewers Owner: RolePlayGateway
A network of tunnels and waterways under the Imperial City.
9 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-03-05 21:33:13 »
Imperial City Owner: RolePlayGateway
Capitol of the Zamil Empire.
19 posts · 2 characters present · last post 2012-03-01 08:56:16 »
Imperial City ↪ Imperial Council Hall Owner: RolePlayGateway
The Council Hall.
11 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2012-02-23 22:03:46 »
The Marketplace ↪ Warehouse Owner: RolePlayGateway
A musty building on the outskirts of the Marketplace.
1 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-02-10 04:32:05 »
Imperial City ↪ Borough Owner: RolePlayGateway
Residential District.
14 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-02-08 11:37:54 »
Imperial City ↪ Purlieu Owner: RolePlayGateway
Residential District.
4 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-02-08 08:41:37 »
Gooseneck ↪ Gooseneck Tavern Owner: RolePlayGateway
The least happening place this side of Zamil.
8 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-02-06 04:43:07 »
Imperial City ↪ Imperial Prison Owner: RolePlayGateway
Imperial Prison.
26 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-02-06 00:36:37 »
Merchant's Way Owner: RolePlayGateway
The eastern road out of the city.
2 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-02-02 08:11:14 »
Eytherghymn Owner: RolePlayGateway
It's a forest.
3 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-02-01 08:55:39 »
Merchant's Way ↪ Merchant's Lodge Owner: RolePlayGateway
The halfway point between the city and ports leading out of Zamil.
3 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2012-01-29 16:50:30 »
Imperial City ↪ Arielis Owner: RolePlayGateway
The Arielis Hotel.
1 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2012-01-23 01:29:10 »
Crystal Temple ↪ Rectory Owner: RolePlayGateway
The rectory, home to the laity and clergymen of the temple.
10 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-01-17 02:25:48 »
Port Arn Owner: RolePlayGateway
The largest port city for foreign travel and trade in all of Zamil.
10 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-01-12 18:42:06 »
Old Forest Road ↪ Accursed Inn Owner: RolePlayGateway
The inn has been boarded up until further notice.
2 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2012-01-06 04:47:44 »
Academy for the Arcane Arts ↪ West Wing Library Owner: RolePlayGateway
One of the Academy's two libraries.
1 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-01-04 20:01:59 »
Imperial Prison ↪ Cell Block Three Owner: RolePlayGateway
The ward for low-profile magic users.
1 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-01-03 20:41:23 »
Imperial City ↪ The Crimson Blade Owner: RolePlayGateway
The civil sword shall and must be red and bloody.
2 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2012-01-02 23:47:22 »
Imperial City ↪ Imperial Gardens Owner: RolePlayGateway
The Imperial Gardens.
5 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2012-01-01 22:37:32 »
Imperial City ↪ Crystal Temple Owner: RolePlayGateway
A place of worship.
1 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2011-12-31 19:07:37 »
The docks at Port Arn.
1 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2011-12-30 18:27:40 »
Emerald Road Owner: RolePlayGateway
The Emerald Road leads to the underground land of Thaya, realm of the Dwarves.
1 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2011-12-30 18:10:10 »
Emerald Road ↪ Thaya Outpost Owner: RolePlayGateway
The Thaya Outpost, a military/trading post between Thaya and the Imperial City.
1 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2011-12-28 20:18:04 »
Imperial City ↪ The Marketplace Owner: RolePlayGateway
The hub for all trade in the city.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Ellysathem Owner: RolePlayGateway
The hidden realm of the Ka'ua
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Gooseneck ↪ Fort Nuoro Owner: RolePlayGateway
The Imperial Army is stationed here.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Thaya Owner: RolePlayGateway
The entrance to Thaya lies within the Ruins of Thaya.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Road of Mirrors Owner: RolePlayGateway
The west road out of the Imperial City leads through the My'Bael mountains.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Thaya ↪ Ruins of Thaya Owner: RolePlayGateway
The entrance to Thaya is protected by the ruins of this ancient city.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Arisha ↪ Atel??ntian Isles Owner: RolePlayGateway
*Atelæntian Isles* The general knowledge of time on the island depends, curiously enough, on the direction of the wind.
0 posts · 1 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Road of Mirrors ↪ Gorgon's Pass Owner: RolePlayGateway
Gorgon's Pass lies between the My'Bael mountains.
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Ruyn: The Winds of Fate
by Sylwyn on Sat Jan 21, 2012 10:02 pm
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on Tue Jun 05, 2012 9:57 pm
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Ruyn: The Winds of Fate
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