Information Stories of the Past and Present - Page 4 - RPG Crossing
RPG Crossing Home Forums Create An Account! Site Rules & Help

RPG Crossing
Go Back   RPG Crossing > Games > Hall of Fame > Hall of Fame Games > Previous Inductees > 2018 > Legacy of Fire > Souls of Destiny
twitter facebook

Notices

Reply
 
Thread Tools
  #46  
Old Apr 24th, 2016, 12:35 AM
Squeak's Avatar
Squeak Squeak is offline
Of the Fartnocker Clan
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Nov 30th, 2020
RPXP: 40537
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak
Posts: 13,987
The path less travelled
left-aligned image
Grak'Ark towered over the human girl, waving the engraved dagger menacingly before her eyes as she trembled in terror. His mother, the high priestess Arre, stood over his shoulder, directing her student as he began the ceremony.

"You must be gentle with your blade, for the screams of the girl will be like a nectar to Lamashtu. " she whispered softly, the magical enhancement she had placed on herself carrying over the girl's screams even after Grak'Ark began his work. She continued to whisper her reminders to her to her pupil as he continued, hoping that this time he would be able to complete the sacrifice properly.

"A total of 30 cuts must be made, each with horizontal strokes. Each of the incisions must be evenly spaced across the upper half of the body. Do not forget that you need to harvest every drop of blood you shed, so that the essences can be burned and the essences transferred to the goddess in the abyss."

Grak tuned out the words of his mother, for the young alcolyte knew the requirements of the ritual well. This was his third attempt to complete the sacrifice of the full moon, although each of his previous attempts had ended with disaster. His blade struck too deep on the first attempt, killing the elven female before he could get the proper amount of cuts. His second was a male human warrior, who had managed to slip his bonds during the ritual andwas forced to impale him before he was able to flee.

This time will be different Grak promised himself, weaving the ceremonial dagger through the girls skin with the precision of a surgeon,each painful cut bringing louder screams from his victim. His left hand moved rhythmically, the brass bowl it held catching each drop of flowing blood. As the screams reached a fevered pitch, the blade ended her cries with a single stroke, a powerful slash across the throat.

His head tipped back in triumph as he knew he had finally completed the ritual perfectly. But as he began to congratulate himself for a job well done, his left hand lost control of the bowl he held, spilling it's gory contents to the ground.

"No!!! Enough, you have failed again!!! The blood must be saved or the goddess will not accept the sacrifice!!!" Arre growled at her young charge, the whip she held in her right had flicking out in growing irritation with her pupil.

"Go and bring the body to the Wuta Horrro so they may feast At least some good will come from your incompetence. We will find a new prisoner and try again tomorrow." she snaps, completely fed up with the inability of her charge to complete some of the most basic requirements of a priest of Lamashtu.

As her acolyte lowers his head and drags off the failed sacrifice, Arre wonders about her young charge. Grak'Ark possessed the mark of Lamashtu, claw marks to his shoulder that he received years ago. The wound had never healed, the trickle of blood making it clear that he still held the favor of the goddess. He was a smart gnoll, far smarter than other acolytes she had trained. So why is it that he is so incompetent in the rituals of the priesthood? she wondered.

Arre knew she could not tolerate this continued failure, she expected more from her own blood and more from a chosen of Lamshtu. There was something holding him back, either his ability, his desire or his understanding and she needed to find out what it was.

So when her acolyte returned from delivering the feast to the wuta horrro, the powerful priestess held her punishment for a few moments. Instead of a cracking whip,she lashed out with her stinging tongue, "Grak'Ark, tell me. Do you enjoy being a priest of Lamashtu?" high priestess Arre asked him, making him a bit surprised - and concerned - that his punishment did not come at the end of a whip.

The lack of abuse made him understand that this was a serious question, one that would impact him significantly, so the young gnoll thought for a moment to choose his words carefully before replying. "It does not matter whether or not I enjoy it. The goddess has touched me, naming me her chosen. It is my duty... No, it is my privilege to serve her."

left-aligned image
Arne's whip lashed out in frustration, the tip connecting painfully above his left eye. "I do not doubt you were chosen, nor do I doubt your loyalty to Lamashtu!!! That is not what I asked. I asked is if you enjoy being a priest. And before you answer, know that the goddess has granted me a spell that will tell me the truth of your hear. And I will not tolerate your lies." she persisted, her whip twitching menacingly in her hand as her gaze stared intently into the soul of her own whelp.

"I... I... No, I do not enjoy it." responded, lowering his head for a moment in shame before he lifts it up, a fire in his eyes, his explanations flowing forth like a raging river.

"The rituals, they do not make sense!!! If the offering suffered great pain and provided sustenance for the goddess, why should it matter that it was done by an exact ritual? She is a savage fury... When she hungers, she feeds, when she is thirsty, she drinks - why does there need to be more? And I speak not only of the ritual of sacrifice, but all of the rituals! I mean, why should the goddess require me to shedding my own blood for her each day weakening me, when the blood of my prey is a far sweeter nectar to her?

We spend so many hours worrying about the proper symbols, hand gestures and words we speak in an effort to honor our goddess, but none of it matters! She is the Master of the Beasts and the Devourer of Souls! Such insignificant tripe should mean nothing to her!!! She is no civilized whelp thriving on pomp and circumstance, but a feral power beyond understanding, drinking deeply of the blood of our prey and inhaling their screams of terror!!!
"
he growls, his breathing coming heavy as his impassioned response flowed out of him before he was able to stop it.

He knew his outburst would earn him severe punishment from the high priestess and perhaps his own death. What he had said was sacrilege, he challenge he made to the ways of the priesthood were unforgivable. But the blows did not come.

Indeed, the High Priestess Arre said nothing, her eyes closed as she absorbed the words of her pupil and communes with her goddess. She listens intently to the will of her goddess, a curious look crossed her face and the corner of her mouth upturns as the divine inspiration flowed through her.

"Perhaps the failing was not your own, but in my training. You bear the mark of Lamashtu, you are destined to serve her. But it was my own ignorance I assumed your worship should be modelled after my own.

There is another path, a more ancient path to the priesthood of Lamashtu, one that I know little about. What I do know is that this priesthood does not focus on each of the facets of the goddess equally. Our goddess is many things... She is the Master of Monsters and the Demon Queen. She is Grandmother Nightmare, the Mother of Perversion and the Mistress of Insanity.
"
she begins, doing her best to explain her own path, so that he could better understand the ancient path she was talking about.

"But the old faith focuses on only one her facets, that of Mother of Beasts. It accentuates her role as the Great Predator and our role in the cycle of life. This path focuses on a connection with the earth itself and teaches how all things that grow on it are here as her prey.. It is a more primal form of worship, bereft of rituals and sacrifices, focusing itself only on the heartlessness and savagery of nature. Priests of this old path are not healers and enchanters, but instead seek to become one with the vicious beasts and the uncaring earth itself.

Is this the path you would follow?
"
she asks, looking into his eyes as she waits for a reaction.
right-aligned image

Grak'Ark remains silent for what seems to be an eternity, allowing the thought to flow through his mind. The path in which the mother spoke of sounded too easy to him. It was as if this were a path made for him and him alone, taking away all of the requirements and duties required of a priest replacing it with savage fury that was his passion. He nods mutely in response, the silent acknowledgement telling Arne that this was the path the goddess has destined him to follow.

"i cannot guide you on your walk, for the faith of the old path is unknown to me. This is a journey you will have to make on your own." she says softly to her charge.

"No mother, I will not be alone. I will travel this path with Lamashtu." he says softly, moving away to ponder his thoughts.

Last edited by Squeak; May 11th, 2016 at 10:51 PM.
Reply With Quote
  #47  
Old May 12th, 2016, 02:51 AM
Admin TeufelHeunden's Avatar
Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden is offline
Ars artis gratia
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Nov 22nd, 2020
RPXP: 24916
Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden
Posts: 11,958
Enroute to the Ruins of Kho
left-aligned image
The sky loomed low and steely gray as Remkah`ar, Pandrecha, and Gazouq, accompanied by the priest, his protégé and the guides trudged quickly across up the steep path towards Gembasket and away from the edge of the Brazen Peaks and the eerie call of the Carian King. They were forced by the sense of evil looming just at their heels. The bones of Remkah`ar’s hands showed white beneath his red skin as he gripped his staff and fought to stay awake. It had been four unabridged days – or was it a week? – From the time when they had a full night’s respite before entering the White Canyon, and the piercing lines of reality were badly distorted. But they could not stop now. Not when they were so close to Gembasket and their last stop before the Ruins of Kho.

The air was wet as it thrashed his face and the land stretched out around them on the plateau, a tedious brown tinge spattered with uninspiring green. Before them stood a wall of tousled trees blocking their way, their fingernails scratching at the clouds as though they would rent them open and release the rain; the cold, spiteful, despondent rain of this land so dissimilar from his home. Remkah`ar did not long to be out here when it really let loose. All of them were fatigued from being cold; weary of being wet; exhausted from being chased… simply tired.

Gazouq paused a good forty feet from the boundary of the forest, bouncing and swaying in place as Remkah`ar tried to spur her on. For an instant she stopped, reading the dark wall of the forest before the group as the wind lamented through the rocks and trees with the keening voices of something foreboding. Had they a choice, they would have gone around these trees, but this was certainly the fastest route to Gembasket – and sleep.

“Go, Gazouq,” Remkah`ar muttered, though where he found the strength to talk after so long a climb without food, water or sleep was unfathomable, “We are nearly there… Just a little bit further.”

Gazouq coughed and snarled, likely even more tired than Remkah`ar was, but she was a well-trained warrior who had scrapped many battles, and in the end she submitted.

They entered the glooms of the high forest slowly, picking their way through the jumble of roots, stones, moss and half-rotted tumbled trees. Murky figures pirouetted in the corners of Remkah`ar’s sight, rushing at him on the crying wind then waning the moment he looked their way. Maybe it was simply paranoia goaded by the lack of sleep, but the faint light and sheer, eerie stillness of this place were putting him on edge. This thicket was nothing like the desert of his youth; it had nothing in common with that blazing, windswept world draped in swags of sand. The world he dreaded he would likely never see again.

A scoff of nostalgia speared him, so fierce he actually doubled over.

Lucky for him.

As he leaned down, his forehead at the center of his staff, a bolt of fire shrieked over his head, the searing prickled his spine as it passed.

“You or halt or you are dead!” A feral voice warned.

Remkah`ar stood up, looking hard at the burnt bark on the tree next to him. It appeared real, but who had fired it?

He dropped his staff and lifted his empty hands over his head as he scanned the trees, probing for any sign of the attacker, fully primed to find the famed red dragon. Though, just to be safe, he tipped his right hip back, ensuring that his loaded crossbow was still where it should be.

“We are but poor travelers,” Remkah`ar called out to the forest, his gaze still examining the shadows, “We have nothing of value.”

Rough gnoll laughter circled the party. Was that one gnoll? Ten? Or was it the laughter of the dragon whose moans had chased them through the valleys and forests and across the rocky cliffs, carried by the wind?

“It isn’t your gold we’re after, my red friend,” the feral voice responded from all around them, “but the desire of taking your life.”

Five gnolls emerged out of the shadows, encircling them. A burly gnoll with bushy dirt-brown fur and wicked black eyes took the position in front of them, a spent crossbow insouciantly resting on one shoulder.

Remkah`ar exhaled a sigh of reprieve; he was in no state to deal with dragons today. At least gnolls could be killed – like that brute who’d attacked them in the White Canyon four days ago – or was it a week? Why couldn’t he remember?

The gnoll smiled wide, displaying a feral grin full of yellowed teeth gnashing like daggers, “Now lay down your weapons nice ‘n slow… No need in making this tough.”

Remkah`ar frowned, slowly lowering his hands, “And if we refuse?”

The gnoll shrugged, indicating the two similar spotted gnolls on either side of them, “Then Gremock and Thurrg’ll have to drag the others off. Our king told us not to damage you Ifrit.”

A cold that had naught to do with the wretched weather sank into Remkah`ar’s gut. Their king could only be one; the same gnoll who had ruined their sleep and chased them across the Brazen Peaks. How did he always know where to find them? Desperation choked Remkah`ar; he was so sure they would outrun them this time…. But that didn’t matter now. They would not lie down and die here.

The warrior inside Gazouq strained and agitated as she returned the bandit’s grin with a thin smile of her own, “In that case, come and get us.”

The hadis nodded, and his two fighters advanced.

Remkah`ar’s hand dropped to his crossbow. He twisted it and squeezed the trigger. The gnoll on his right gurgled and fell, the feathers of his bolt jabbing out of the bottom of his throat.

Pandrecha lashed out with her left boot, snaring the other gnoll solidly in the temple. They stumbled and buckled, blood leaking down their cheek.

The other two gnolls howled a savage growl gnashing their teeth and charged.

Gazouq leaped over the frozen guides landing on her feet, her bowing blade just kissing the lead gnoll’s throat as all hell broke loose. Remkah`ar smiled as Gazouq gnashed the other two men in the head with her wicked blade. But not before they had raked one of the guides to a fleshy pile.

Damp earth and spongy dead leaves squashed in the stillness as two more bodies hit the ground.

“Now, what were you saying about taking my life?” Remkah`ar inquired amiably.

The gnoll faded and began trembling, “He told me… said you’d be tough to kill…. I thought surely five’d be enough…”

Gazouq pressed the tip of her blade into his skin until Remkah`ar saw a drop of blood, “Who is your King?”

The gnoll shook his head, “No… I can’t tell you… He’s a beast… Killed my wife and daughter just to get me to drop the bounty for your hide… If I tell you, he’ll kill me!”

Gazouq pressed a little firmer with her sword and Remkah`ar pushed, “If you don’t tell me, she’ll kill you.”

The gnoll swallowed, “I… I don’t know who he was… All the packs tremble under his claws from his bastion on the Pale Mountain. He didn’t speak his name, but his voice was dark as the pits of hell and his soul twice as black.”

It was a suggestive portrayal, but not very supportive. It could be the Carrion King, but there was no real way to be sure. Remkah`ar considered the gnoll for a long minute, but it was clear he was telling the truth. He knew his type; plucky with a half dozen men behind them, but an absolute weakling on his own.

Gazouq re-sheathed her blade as Remkah`ar pointed back the way they had come, “The Brazen Peaks are twenty minutes’ saunter that way. I recommend you run. The next time we see you or any of your friends, we won’t be so merciful.”

He didn’t have to repeat himself.

As the gnoll retreated back into the Brazen Peaks Remkah`ar and the others continued onto Gembasket where they would find ample rest before continuing on to find their fate and fortune.

__________________
My apologies to all I game with, going through some challenging times with RL at the moment but I am still here and will persavere. TY for your Patience.
Reply With Quote
  #48  
Old May 17th, 2016, 02:20 AM
Admin TeufelHeunden's Avatar
Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden is offline
Ars artis gratia
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Nov 22nd, 2020
RPXP: 24916
Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden
Posts: 11,958
The Efreeeti Ring

left-aligned image
Ruins covered the walls from the ceiling to ground, radiant with the same light as that coming from the amputated head. There were images of cattle, birds, fish, mountains, forests, and people. As well as something else. It had the figure and arms of a human, but the symbol was twice the size, and it was headless. This disturbing creature’s image was strewn amongst the images of landscape and animals.

The guides moved recklessly for people who had never been to this place. Remkah`ar passed a shadowy corner from which emanated a clicking sound chased by a blast of air. Something heavy hit him in the shoulder, and he cried out in pain, whirling deftly with a scimitar in hand. Before him in the gloom, hefty almond shaped eyes hovered burning with a wild green light. The thing hissed, and a skittering of several armored feet sounded as the eyes rushed forward. His scimitar carved the air in front of him and clattered against what felt like twin blades.

The eyes rose up to where the ceiling was. And then the boy guide was in front of him, sword in hand. The glowing orbs darted to the right, and the boy took a chance to jab at the thing, only for it to drift off to the left. It seemed to size him up as he tried to flank with a firm grip on his blade.

“Don’t be a fool, boy,” Remkah`ar scorned. “It’s just playing with you.” The youth seemed to pay no attention. The boy was a diversion and Remkah`ar leaped out of the way as he considered the thing in front of them. His years had taught him enough, that a thing with a head and legs may not have a neck. But if it has a front, it should have a back….

Behind them were Gazouq, Pandrecha, and the priest's ward. “Priest!” he heard Gazouq whisper harshly in her feral growl. “When I give the word, release the light at that thing. Blind it!” The priest’s frozen form left both Gazouq and Remkah`ar with the small assurance he would do his job as the gnoll progressed around to the back of the thing. A shriek came from the front as the beast sprang forward, providing the unspoiled opportunity for Gazouq. She scrambled up the slippery scales of its back. Blackness still surrounded them when the crunch of the deadly wound pierced the stillness. Then came a “thwack” as Remkah`ar’s scimitar hit against the armored hide.

“Where is that blasted priest!” came the feral growl, even as Gazouq drove her blade, she felt the beast shift under her. It raised, and a flash of light blazed from Pandrecha’s spell, lighting the pathway behind and edging the beast in silhouette. The great sword sliced an arc in front of her, but as the head fell, she made sure to turn away from the light. Everything lurched into darkness then, and she could feel the lifeless body of the beast drop to the ground beneath her.

“Pandrecha?” Remkah`ar peered ahead of him, there seemed to be a figure curled up in a corner. When he touched it, there was only a sticky wetness.

“Help…” came a spluttering gasp. It was the young guide huddled in a ball against the glyphs. There was no help for him now, so Remkah`ar finished him off with a plunge of his scimitar. Then he spun to follow the glyphs down a steep passage followed by Gazouq. It seemed like hours, and still there was no sign of Pandrecha or the priest and his ward. The fragments of strange symbols began to appear at chest height. He knew the breaking of these letters meant the breaking of spells, especially those wards against incursion. The broken writing became more irregular and jumbled until it covered the ceiling and floor. No one was meant to come down here, he thought. Why so much protection? What was down here? And where were the others?

Ahead came screams and then a bright light irradiated in the corridor ahead. Remkah`ar stepped through a doorway into a well-lit room. Pandrecha was there faltering backward until she hit the wall behind her. She was clasping her eyes. In the middle of the room was the priest, his student kneeling before him. From inside the sleeve of his robe, the priest drew a baleful blade and held it under the boy’s chin. Then he glared at Remkah`ar.

“The way to Rovagug is cemented with blood and bones!”

Before the priest could finish his sacrifice, a sweeping blow lopped off his head just as with the beast earlier. “Filthy cultist, I never trusted him or his gods, and now we see why,” growled Gazouq, her feral grin showing her yellowed fangs. The silence was parted only by the sobbing of the boy and the cries from Pandrecha as she continued to shield her eyes. On the altar behind the slain priest lay the Ring that Remkah`ar had drawn them here to retrieve, grabbing it he pulled the boy up off the floor to his feet and turned to Pandrecha, “Take your hands down, the worst is over, let’s just get out of here.”

As the group turned to leave this tomb Remkah`ar examined the ring, the only thing he came here for – despite the wonders of this ancient civilization or the riches scattered around. Gazouq, Pandrecha, and the others collected gold and riches hoarding them into sacks, but Remkah`ar only held onto the ring, his vision concentrated like a workhorse with blinders he examined it. Teary eyes poured over the wonder in his hands, the flawless ruby sparkles but that is not the treasure he traveled here for. His hands rub over the surface as it twists in his hand, his eyes capturing all of the intricacies and workmanship of such a fine piece of jewelry.

Then he sees the true meaning of the ring, his chest hitches and he stumbles a bit leaning against the wall. This ring was an Efreetri Ring, the prison of a great and powerful Efreeti – but more than that ….. it was once the home of Vardishal.

His head grows light as his breathing becomes difficult. His shoulders curl into his caving chest as he falters against the ruins on the wall. Could it be …? Is this a sign? His breath seems to falter until he is lurched from his fog by Pandrecha who grabs his shoulder, “Perhaps it is time for you to gather yourself red one. Come we must get out of here before the spirits of this place decide we are to stay here forever.” She is right Remkah`ar thinks to himself. He puts the ring on his finger and follows Gazouq’s lead as they exit this temple, ample treasure for all but none greater than the band around his finger. He will need to explore what this means to him when the time comes. But for now, they need to make it back over the Brazen Peaks and to home in Kapatesh.

__________________
My apologies to all I game with, going through some challenging times with RL at the moment but I am still here and will persavere. TY for your Patience.
Reply With Quote
  #49  
Old May 24th, 2016, 10:33 PM
aerondor's Avatar
aerondor aerondor is offline
Great Wyrm
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: May 9th, 2018
RPXP: 11192
aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor
Posts: 10,655
left-aligned image


The prayer of Omacui (often said at dawn)

Establisher of days!
Your presence upon the horizon banishes the night from the world,
and your presence in my heart banishes the hidden evil that dwells within.
Your light guides my feet as I walk upon the sands!
The eastern sky is one of hope, and from you are all directions of the world made known,
yet it is your light within me that guides the hardest journey that I must make.
Awakener of the world!
Awaken my body with your tender warmth
Awaken my soul with your compassion
Awaken my mind with your teaching.
You are the Initiator!
You were there at the beginning of time, you were there at the Binding of the Enemy,
you were there when all began, you were there when I was born.
Be with me now at the start of today.
Opener of Eyes!
Without you I am blind. I stumble and fall in the darkness. Open my eyes!
Without your guidance, my soul stumbles and falls to the snares of the mundane. Open my eyes!
Redeemer!
Purge the evil from the world with your holy fire.
Purge the evil from within me with your holy fire.
Soften my heart, so that I might see your goodness in all.
Dawnflower!
As the flower unfolds its petals at the start of a day
Unfold me. As your rising shows all the way
Guide me. And when I fall astray
Redeem me.


Hanif smiled at Omacui as the young man did his recitation. The sky too seemed to smile, red lips curving across the top of the distant mountains as dawn brought colour to the world once more.

"That was well done Omacui ibn Ishan." The older slave looked pleased.

"That prayer too is new. Within 'The Birth of Light and Truth' you will find much more that is good. One day you may see a copy of that book. But beyond that there is a truth." He pauses for effect for a moment.
"Each copy is different. Unique as each Dawn. Your prayers should be like the Dawn. Fresh and real, but at the same time regular. There are themes to return to again and again. Each time differently."

A grin crosses his face. "There is no need to rhyme thought. "

He nodded to himself. "Yes. I like your prayer very much. May I use to tomorrow?"


Last edited by aerondor; May 24th, 2016 at 10:55 PM.
Reply With Quote
  #50  
Old May 25th, 2016, 05:03 PM
Squeak's Avatar
Squeak Squeak is offline
Of the Fartnocker Clan
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Nov 30th, 2020
RPXP: 40537
Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak Squeak
Posts: 13,987
Grak hears the Omacui utter his heathen prayer, begging for gifts that he did not deserve. At first, the devout gnoll wanted to rip out the dark-skin's throat, but held off only because he was part of his pack.

A smile crossed the gnoll's face as the prayer ended, an idea that would put the hairless pafe back into his place. Grak seldom prayed to the goddess, knowing that she cared little for inane drivel, but he decided to do so anyway, knowing that these words would strike fear into the ranger's heart. And to Lamashtu, fear was the nectar that sustained her.

Speaking loud enough for Omacui and Hanif to hear, he begins his prayer. Rather than speak it his native tongue, he does so in the awkward common tongue of the pafe so that his words did not get confused in translation.

The Prayer of Grak'Ark (Seldom spoken)

Mistress of Mutilation
You have warped us into your image,
giving us teeth to chew, claws to rend,
hide to protect us and noses to sniff out our prey.

Mother of Beasts
It is you who make our bitches fertile
and allow our number to swell in size.
You taught us the power of working together,
teaching that a larger pack can take down bigger prey.

Lady of Insanity
We thank you for our ravening hunger
And our passion to devour those weaker than us.
Ours is a hunger that can only be satiated by the suffering of our prey
and each cry of their pain makes us strong.

Great Predator
We offer no gratitude to you for these gifts, because we know platitudes mean nothing to you.
Instead we offer to you gifts that are deserving of the Great Predator.
We give you the sounds of our prey pleading for the sweet mercy of death,
although we shall not grant it until you thirst has been slaked by their screams.

Grandmother Nightmare

We offer to you the wailing of the weak, the cries of the downtrodden.
I give to you the terror of the pitiful and the blood of the defeated.
Let their cries of terror fill you with delight and sustain you.

We know you will not guide us, but will let us make our own way.
As always, the weak will fall and the strong will carry your burden.
As long as we draw breath, we will fight, kill and maim,
until we become food for one stronger than us.



"Hey, look at that, mine doesn't rhyme either." Grak says to Omacui and Hanif as he walks away to join Drusilla on his daily patrol.

Last edited by Squeak; May 25th, 2016 at 05:10 PM.
Reply With Quote
  #51  
Old Jun 11th, 2016, 06:43 AM
aerondor's Avatar
aerondor aerondor is offline
Great Wyrm
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: May 9th, 2018
RPXP: 11192
aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor aerondor
Posts: 10,655
Ambush

left-aligned image


Omacui cursed loudly as blood ran down his face. The curse was cut off short as he was forced to stop and spit to clear his mouth. He lay sheltered behind a rock, where he had dived moments after the first javelins had been hurled from the rock faces around the caravan.

Looking around the ranger noted three of the guards had injuries, although the scout was lying out in the open and unmoving.

Saeraen, keep is life within him so that he too might know your blessed redemption

Then, in his heart of hearts he adds so I can beast some sense into him. A scout is there to trip an ambush such as this, not to lead us into it.


Shading his eyes against the sun, Omacui took pause for a moment. In the shade on the other side of the wadi, he could see Gravel. The elder rangers eyes were scanning the wall like cliffs above Omacui, and Omacui returned the favour, looking to see what might be lurking in the heights on the wadi’s right.

Omacui knew what he was looking for. The javelin was gnoll made, and even were it not... it smelt of gnoll. He’d been away too long if he’d allowed the caravan to be ambushed like this.
Likely Gravel is having the same thoughts. – it didn’t make him feel any better.

Slowly Omacui nocked an arrow and waited. Gnolls were stupid, and more importantly, impatient. In spite of that, the creatures were canny, and strong adversaries. They had launched a good ambush, but he knew if he waited they would soon tire of lurking where they had the advantage. They wanted to taste blood.
And I want it to be their own.

Another flurry of javelins came down, but everyone had taken cover now. One of the camels was hit and screamed horribly. At his side Euyun min fawq squirmed. “Not now brave one. Your time will come, but for now you would just be a target” he whispered.

He continued to wait. A third flurry of javelins – but again without effect, and the patience of the waiting gnolls was exhausted. From ahead four charged down the wadi. It sounded like more from behind. Omaci stood and let fly his arrow. He had never been the best shot, but gnolls were big creatures, and his understanding of them was instinctive. The arrow buried itself in the lead gnoll’s throat. It dropped and didn’t get up again. He had but a moment to draw the Scimitar of the Dunes before the other three were on him though.

The first tried to just leap over the rock Omacui sheltered behind. Tough as gnolls are, rocks are yet tougher, and while it proved it’s courage, the rock took the impact. That one would keep, for a moment or two. The second came around the side and swung an axe at him, but that was met by the Scimitar of the Dunes. The axe blow redirected to the nearby cliff, the scimitar slid down the handle removing the gnolls hands. In the flurried exchange of blows, Omacui had lost track of the third gnoll. Instinct saved him. As he stepped in towards the rapidly dying and handless gnoll he felt a massive blow to his back. Luckily the blade was stopped by the enchanted chain shirt he wore – but that didn’t help against the force, and Omacui found himself slammed against the nearby cliff face.

Wincing with pain he kicked the handless gnoll in the teeth to stop it biting his boot as he fought for space and time to counter the large and horribly strong creatures. Horribly strong and brave, but they had seen him drop two of their own number, and then survive a blow that should have cut him in half. Now they came cautiously, spreading out to try and distract his attention. Omacui kept circling, his world shrinking to just a half dozen or so yards around him and where the two creatures were. Omacui feinted at the left most creature. Cautious of the ranger, it jumped back just as its pack mate closed in on their prey’s back. This was what the ranger had been waiting for.

FlashbackSheik Khayyam was an unusual man to say the least. His warriors trained as hard as anyone else’s. But the sheik wanted them to be more than just warriors. He was a man of learning, and wanted warriors who would understand why to fight, not just how. As such, one of the Sheik’s retainers was a strange Irori priest. This priest was the one who taught hand to hand combat. After watching Omacui in the circle, he had approached the young slave.

You must fight with your heart, not just your fists. Your heart, it gives power and meaning to your fists. It must shape your fist, not the other way around.” He had said more than that. He had talked of the five great animals – the Tiger, the Crane, the Leopard, the Snake, and the Dragon. “They each exist within each of us. But for each of us, one is stronger. You must find your inner animal if you are to be the master rather than it.” There had been months of lessons, most of which had gone over the young Omacui’s head. But at the end of it he had found his inner animal. And in times of crisis, Omacui knew how to let it loose.


Omacui let loose his inner dragon. With a mighty cry he leapt backwards. The Scimitar of the Dunes was far out of position to threaten the beast – but his left hand held the power of the dragon. Omacui knew how to hurt gnolls, and the dragon provided his fist all the power he needed. It crashed right into the centre of the gnolls face. The sound of breaking cartilage was like music to his ears. But the damage didn’t stop there, the gnoll's head crashed backwards, his neck broken by the mighty blow.

The last gnoll gaped in stunned horror for a moment. One of the other guards took the opportunity and removed its head with his own scimitar. All around was a moment of silence, and then the whimpers of the wounded started up.

The ranger limped over towards Gravel, who seemed to have come through the battle without a scratch – three dead gnolls also in a circle around him. “Pity about the camel


Last edited by aerondor; Jun 11th, 2016 at 06:47 AM.
Reply With Quote
  #52  
Old Jun 11th, 2016, 10:39 AM
ShinobiMaster123's Avatar
ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 is offline
Great Wyrm
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Nov 6th, 2020
RPXP: 7232
ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123
Posts: 3,980
Obeegon




Walking through the shifting sand dunes a lone figure walks in the blazing sun. Not ever looking up, walking with confidence against the harsh temperature. He passes through the sand sure and steady, not leaving any traces of his movement as if he was floating on the sand. The dark brown headscarfs and kaftan pulled tight acrosss his face to keep the sand from any sudden drafts from his nose and mouth. This cover his aged, wrinkled skin. Obeegon walks with a spryness for someone so old.

He holds up his hand and calls upon one of Irori's gifts as the side of the mountain turns to a clay like consistentcy and he passes into the hidden cave near Mt. Jihad and chuckles to himself, as he hopes that his pupil has found what he has left on top of the mountain. He ends the gift as the side of the mountain returns to normal. It took years to be able to do this seamlessly.

Obeegon, remembers the first time he met Dullen at the Battlemart in Kelmarane. The brash young woman, Haleen had brought in the lad and he remembers the conversation vividly....

Obeegon, was the Redeye knight assigned the area surrounding Kelmarane and stopped by for a visit to see his pupil, Harluun. He received an urgent message from his sister, Haleen to come to Kelmarane.
As he was walking through the battlemart, Haleen grabbed his arm and pulled him into a deserted shop. She was accompanied by a young boy.

"Obeegon, I have seen a vision and it is bleak. You know that the visions I have spoke to you in the past have come true, so you know I'm not exaggerating. Harluun is going to turn away from Irori and give up his duties that you are training him as a Redeye knight. He will be seduced by the dark forces and the destruction of Kelmarane will be his undoing. You must do something, surly Irori will be able to help you to turn back to the ways."

Obeegon sees the terror in her eyes. He has seen some signs and Harluun was picking up the training so fast, so soon. Could it be in his own hubris he did not see this coming.
"Haleen, my child. I know you are concerned about the future and the dreams that have scared you about Harluun, but you are too old to be trained in the ways of the Redeye to help if that is the case. Irori teaches search for enlightenment and those who choose the quick and easy path are affected the greatest by the dark forces. If this is Harluun's destiny, we must be prepared. If your vision becomes the truth, his arrogance will become his undoing, he will cast aside the training and the tools I have provided him. Once this occurs, you must spirit these items away for someone that will have to face him one day.

Who is this you have brought with you today?"
Obeegon looks down at the young lad.

Haleen thankful that her words were not taken as just the ramblings of a histerical woman calms down somewhat, "This is Dullen, Halruun's oldest son. I wanted you to meet him. He out of all his children, has the wisdom vast beyond his years and could be the answer to the prayers we have been looking for. I will look for what you speak and what tools do you speak of?"

Obeegon looks down at Dullen and smiles, he holds out one of his hands and mumers a small prayer to Irori,"Haleen has seen this small one to be a future Redeye knight, is she Augury Spellcorrect? Your guidance s needed now. Typically Irori would not answer for something that would not result in something for the immediate future, but Obeegon actually staggers a bit as he hears a resounded "WEAL!" in his head. He drops to one knee as he knows the sign is truly there.

He asks Dullen a question, "Hello, my son. I am Obeegon, I have been your father's teacher for in the ways of Irori's force. What is the path you have chosen?"

Dullen looked up at the Redeye knight in wonder and the is proud to meet the teacher of his father. Being as young as we was, he just answered quickly and honestly, "I will strive every day to be the best that I can be and teach others what I learn."

Obeegon stood and tussled Dullen's hair with his right hand. He smiled as he understood what Haleen had meant. This boy has been touched by Irori. He knew that if Harluun or Haleen had children that somehow Irori would speak to him as they had both been touched by Irori. Harluun was a good pupil, but rose through the ranks quickly. Now Obeegon had to prepare, just in case.

"Dullen, go wait for your aunt over there for a moment, she will be right with you."

Dullen moved over to one of the shops of the battlemart out of earshot from the conversation.

"Haleen if this event takes place while I am not here remember this. Halruun will think that his dark power he embraced will be the true way and will cast off his Redeye ways. He will disguard the Sword of the Redeye, forged to combat the forces of Cold Ironabyss, he will disgard the Boots of the Desertlands that allow us to walk through the desert unharmed, unabled to be followed. He will disgard the Headband of the Master's Rebusheadband that allows us to communicate with others more tactfully, pursuasively and the Ring of Sustanancering that allows us to require minimal sleep and sustains us.

You will need to get the family away, emmigrate to a surrounding city and I will know. I will find you. I will hold the items for when the time comes where Dullen if he choses the way of Irori will need them, to either fight his father or possibly train to become a Redeye. I see what you mean and pray that if the time comes he will still be able to benefit from the training. Irori moves in mysterious ways and as long as I live, I will look for the signs and be sure to know what Dullen is up to and check on him occasionally. Irori be with you my child."


After the meeting with Dullen in Kelmarane, through Irori's gifts he was sure that this band that Dullen has aligned himself with would be able to face down the undead scourge that Halruun has become. This would be the test to see if will have to faith to face him down and possibly destroy him. The other evils that possessed Kardswann would also have to be dealt with but Dullen will survive. It has been foretold.

After the liberation of Kelmarane was the sign that Dullen was ready. In his meditations Obeegon was graced with the presence of Irori as he if he was with Dullen in the temple as Irori spoke directly with him. He hears again, "DO NOT DISSAPOINT!"

Obeegon saw Haleen leaving Kelmarane alone and searched Mt. Jihad for days until he found her. She implored Obeegon to go to Kelmarane and assist Dullen. Obeegon explained to Haleen that Dullen needed to unlock the secrets of that prior to his next teachings. Obeegon will know. He has another task for her. Find the dwarven swords master Yoba.

As Obeegon stops pondering, he is anxious on what Dullen will think as finds the Rebus he left on top of the mountain. He is ready. He has turned from the life of mercenary and found the ways of Irori. Took him a very long time, but he knew if and when Dullen embranced the teachings he would find his way. Now he is the high priest of Kelmarane. He knew that the boots would come in handy as he handed to him dressed as the merchant at the Battlemart. He was grateful that the years had passed and Dullen didn't recognize him. Now the only tool needed to be given to him was the ring and he would save that for the face-to-face meeting.

Obeegon smiles as now his physical training will begin soon. Hopefully Dullen is up to the task.
__________________
Live each day as it was your last, for one day you will be correct

Last edited by ShinobiMaster123; Jun 11th, 2016 at 12:54 PM.
Reply With Quote
  #53  
Old Jun 22nd, 2016, 06:58 PM
ShinobiMaster123's Avatar
ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 is offline
Great Wyrm
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Nov 6th, 2020
RPXP: 7232
ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123
Posts: 3,980
Haleen's Quest... Part I

Dullen looks about the structure of the Temple of Irori and knows there is a lot to accomplish towards getting the temple rebuilt. He knows that it is close to the time for his training to become a Redeye Knight. To do this he will need the guidance of Obeegon and Dullen is unaware of where to find him.
Dullen can only trust a scant few people at the moment and Brotis is needed here for his strength to help rebuild Kelmarane. To do this, she will need to travel far and wide, Obeegon hasn't been heard of for years. Haleen will need the tools to survive. She obviously is an accomplished warrior and she truly impressed him in the battle arena.

Dullen met with Haleen to discuss the fact that now that the temple was being restored, he would need the guidance of his old master to learn the ways of the Redeye and spent some days in preparation for Haleen's departure. Dullen goes to Father Zastoran to get some potions to allow Haleen to deal with the extreme heat in case of emergency. Studying the Unbinding of the Fetters , Dullen notes the power of Irori as to become the best that one can be, there are gifts that he can call upon to make items of the highest quality. Dullen takes the time to use his personal wealth to making Haleen's journey as easy as possible, creating customized camel's lead and tackle, saddle and clothing to protect her from the harsh environment. With the liberation of Kelmarane, trade started up again. Dullen was able to procure a goblet that would help Haleen in her journey. He also gives her healing potions from his personal stock in case she runs into trouble.

 

With the preparations completed, Dullen discusses how important finding Obeegon is to helping Dullen get better prepared tojoin the ranks of the Redeye Knights. Dullen gives Haleen the signet ring and tells her to present it to Obeegon, he will know that he is needed. He advises her to go to Solku to begin the search there.

At dawn the next morning, Haleen prepared to face the harsh elements, sets forth with one camel laden with provisions. She heads out toward Solku, but only about 30 minutes into her journey, she sees a dust cloud from the direction of Mt. Jihad. The dust cloud comes closer and closer, moving to intercept her. She feared a gnoll patol, but the cloud was too small. Suddenly, as the cloud got closer, Haleen noted a singular figure, dressed in a dark brown robe moving with great speed.
As the figure got closer, Haleen's hand dropped to the hilt of her rapier. Before she drew, she suddenly recognized the features of the weathered face of Obeegon.

"Obeegon! What are you doing here? Dullen thought you may be a geat distiance from here and I was going on a quest to track you down. Well, I'm glad I didn't have to search for you. Dullen needs our help to rebuild Kelmarane and he has asked me to give you this, to let you know he is ready to complete his training." Haleen passes the family signet rring to Obeegon.

Obeegon looks thoughtfully at Haleen, "My child, I have never left. I have been keeping tabs on you and Dullen for a long, long time. You are correct, Dullen is getting ready to start his new phase in his training. I will bbe coming to him very soon. In the meantime, I heard of this trip you are embarking on. It can serve a different purpose. Irori teaches us to strive for enlightenment in all we do. Dullen will need the help of another master. Yoba, the dwarven swordmaster. There are secrets in that family sword he has in his possession that lay untapped. He will need Master Yoba's help to o this. Luckily he stays to cities to passs his knowldege and craft. Continue your journey to Solku and other major towns/cities. You will be able to spot him quite easily. His last encounter with Xulthos and Harluun left him aged and without hair. They knew that this a fate worse than death for a proud dwarf as Yoba is. He travels from town to town, trying to spread the word of Irori and earning his keep by making masterful swords and personal training. You can also identify him by the signet ring he wears. It is of the Redknight order, that shows Irori's outstreached palm. When you see him, let him know that the son has returned and the temple is whole. He will know that he needs to return to Kelmarane. I will continue to oversee Dullen's awakening."

Haleen, just nods to Obeegon and understands her duty to Dullen. She embarks with the knowledge that her quest is of great importance and her duty to her family outweighs any doubt she may have. She embarks into the desert and he figure of Obeegon gets smaller and smaller as she travels.
__________________
Live each day as it was your last, for one day you will be correct

Last edited by ShinobiMaster123; Jun 22nd, 2016 at 07:09 PM.
Reply With Quote
  #54  
Old Jun 27th, 2016, 02:29 AM
Admin TeufelHeunden's Avatar
Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden is offline
Ars artis gratia
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Nov 22nd, 2020
RPXP: 24916
Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden
Posts: 11,958
Visons or reality ....
Thematic Music

Remkah’ar sat inside the brilliantly decorated walls of the small chapel; they stood out as abnormally brash for the otherwise reticent style notable in other parts of the monastery. On the walls were abundant quadrangular wooden plates outlined in gold filigree which depicted a burly warrior battling creatures of fire, riding a chariot on the wind, and engaging in other acts of noble heroism.

Opposite to the door, controlling a section of the north wall, stood an effigy of the warrior, its face marred by what looked like copious blows from an axe. The statue held both hands in front of him, bent at the elbow, palms up, as if expecting an offering. Several deep rents from similar axe blows made it clear that someone tried to hack the arms from the statue decades ago, but was unable to do so.

Suddenly and unexpectedly the blackness encircled him, forcing its way up his nose and his throat. He gagged, and fought to free himself, but still it inched around him. His vision dulled, as his breath was crushed out of his chest.

As he began to feel as though he was losing consciousness he was bombarded with voices and visions. They tore through his skull like a cyclone, merging with and overhauling his own memories until all was a disjointed, broken mess.

left-aligned image
Experiences and emotions from what could only be multiple lifetimes assaulted him. Each apparition, each consciousness, as sharp as a blade, cutting through his brain, searching, grouping, taking his consciousness apart fold by fold.

He was an Ifrit, young, irate at the vices of the world. He had achieved deed after deed of greatness, of conquest, but there was always a greater evil, a new threat.

You are a man, now, and still you battle to guard your fellow man. Quarterstaffs, swords, crossbows, his companions were true masters of weaponry. Sympathy, morality, sacrifice, these are the attributes he revered. Long past was the excitement of adventure replaced by the burden of his duty, yet he persevered.

And he did not fight alone, he had companions. He knew that he would do anything for these brothers, trial after trial he faced, gaining victory by the slimmest margin. It is trust, and teamwork that made you a team of legends, The Templars of the Five Winds.

The first was his favorite, a jolly giant of a man. Truthful, simple, blunt. Always going into battle with a grin on his face, and easing his worry with a tankard of foreign drink. The South Wind, the most well-traveled and worldly wise of the winds. Kardswann and his giant axe always had his back, on the battlefield or not.

Another, a fervent man, wise, cautious, resolute, spiritual. The East Wind, upon which the murmurs of the gods and the advice of elders was carried. Pazhvann has the best guidance ready and waiting. And when the tides of battle go wrong, he trusted Pazhvann, his celestial light, and his hefty flail to find him a way to persevere.

And Zayifid! He who could charm the skirts off a virgin with a sneer. The cheat, the diplomat, the charmer, the spy. The West wind, upon which, secrets thought hidden were carried. A wit unmatched, harsher than his scimitar, Zayifid always has the lyrics for the job.

Finally, the wind from every direction at once. Silent, efficient, dominant. A capable assassin and scout. His methods at first appeared ruthless, but his devotion to the cause is indisputable. He would do anything for him and the group, when his other companions might falter, Davashuum, got it done.

Through the inundation of thoughts flew events. Mortals made of flesh and flame roared, and cursed his name as he cast to them to the earth, over and over. Wounds, implausible suffering, but you cannot die, carried back again and again from the edge of rest, your life, your duty, and your burden endure. This is the fate you elected. But then, you always would do everything she asked.

You see a women. The most lovely women you have eternally seen. And the most brutal warrior. She is your friend, your poised, your hadis. It is for her that you agonize so, her revelation of a better world. Your fight eternal, it is all to please her. And she is honored of you, and your cost. But it is not her pride that you wish.

She has become your everything. Your Heart, Your Determination, Your Future.

Perhaps, no…



Suddenly Remkah’ar snaps back to the chapel, a rush of the Katapesh heat burning across his cheeks.

Suddenly alert he feels a sinking feeling in his stomach as he suddenly looks around. A dream in his mind and he looks up at the statue of Vardishal.

His lips press together as he pulls in a slow breath and lets it out,

These visions…they are not your memories, you are not Vardishal, your life is your own!

You have your own goals, your own love, your own Future!

GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!

The Visions stop.

SilenceDarkness

And then a voice, strong, confident, yet fading.

“Son of my Blood, It is good that you fight. You will need fight in you before the end. Long have I waited, conserving the last of my mortal energy for this moment. I could take no chances. "

Weaker now, as if short of breath

“Remkah’ar, take these gifts, my memories, my knowledge, and the strength of my truest ally. It is much I require of you, much that the world requires of you. Continue to fight, do not lose hope…as I did. The Legacy of Fire must end. My duty is renewed in you. I…I am sorry.”

He awoke, and the memories began to fade. Like a hallucination they disappear, but some small part remained. His head hurt, and his arms itched, where blood had encrusted itself on his bare skin.

A thought traipsed across his mind, there is something he needed to uncover.
__________________
My apologies to all I game with, going through some challenging times with RL at the moment but I am still here and will persavere. TY for your Patience.
Reply With Quote
  #55  
Old Jun 28th, 2016, 02:40 AM
ShinobiMaster123's Avatar
ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 is offline
Great Wyrm
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Nov 6th, 2020
RPXP: 7232
ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123
Posts: 3,980




The sweat beads on Dullen's forehead and bare back as he continuously pounds his hands into the containers of heated sand, the fire from the braziers licked it's way up the sides . The pain was almost unbearable two weeks ago, but now it hurts but in a good way.
Dullen thinks back to when Obeegon appeared out of the desert like a mirage. He couldn't believe his old mentor found him. He thinks back to the conversation..

Dullen embraced his old mentor, tears forming in the corners of his in his eyes.. "How did Haleen find you so soon, I thought she would have to search for at least a couple of years to find you! Where is she? Is she with you?"

Obeegon speaks with a subtle calmness that is infused with wisdom, "No, Haleen is not with me. She has been given another quest. I have been here all along. Watching, waiting for you to reach your potential. Making sure you had the tools needed to continue your journey toward being a Redeye knight. You must start in your ways of learning the ways of Irori's Hand. For this part of your training, you need to abandon all forms of armored protection. This stops your freedom of movement and you will not be able to allow Irori's force to flow through you. You have unlocked the mysteries of the Unbinding of the Fetters, yes? You understand to see Irori's force, you can't be constrainted by wearing a helmet. To weave through the battlefield, you can't be slowed by armor. You will begin your training but you must learn quickly. Who knows waht danger will arise and when. We will training night and day, Redeye Knights go without much sleep as you will learn. AS you will see, as you will see..

Dullen starts his training with the lesson of balance. Large rocks are placed in two backpacks and he has to hold them out with outstretched arms. Obeegon commands him to stand on one leg for as long as he can. Then he switches legs and continues. This goes on for days as Obeegon makes clear that balance is the most important thing. The way to be in touch with Irori's way, is to see that balance is the foundation for everything. For without balance, one can't see enlightenment.

Obeegon is pleased on Dullen's progress, he sees much wisdom in his eyes. The experience of unlocking the book, has given him extreme focus. Dullen masters the fine points of balance in just a few days. Next Dullen is taught to bend the ways of the Irori's force to anticipate danger to dodge existing attacks. With that he learns the Stance, Irori's Hand. It is very similar to the Snake Stance that Far Eastern culture uses to emulate the movement's of the snake. These techniques more emulate an Eagle's claw in motions, and they hunt snakes so it makes perfect sense. Similar to the Snake Style, you study your opponent and can sense their attacks. This sook the rest of his time to accomplish.

*thump* *thump* *thump* .. Dullen's hands are conditioned now and are hard like steel.

Obeegon, spars wtih him in the open temple area on off hours of worship service, like all the other monks. At last, Dullen is ready to move to be a Redeye Knight.
__________________
Live each day as it was your last, for one day you will be correct

Last edited by ShinobiMaster123; Jun 28th, 2016 at 02:52 AM.
Reply With Quote
  #56  
Old Aug 15th, 2016, 07:02 PM
ekidnu's Avatar
ekidnu ekidnu is offline
Nargle
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Nov 30th, 2020
RPXP: 35212
ekidnu ekidnu ekidnu ekidnu ekidnu ekidnu ekidnu ekidnu ekidnu ekidnu ekidnu
Posts: 7,923
A day in the life

DawnThe desert air is pleasantly cool as Drusilla wakes at daybreak, ready to take advantage of the early hours before the midday sun scorches the land. She starts the day by washing herself with a damp rag—oh, how she misses the luxuriously full basins of water that spoiled her in Cheliax—followed by a routine of light exercise and training: some simple calisthenics to warm up, an assortment of weapon techniques, and footwork drills of increasing complexity. It is a routine she developed over the long voyage from Westcrown, and one that has endured to this day, one of her last links to a former life.

She eats a quick, simple breakfast of flatbread and olives before dressing. With her original clothes degraded by the harsh desert environment, all her clothing is now of the Kelish style. It helps her to blend in better with the local populace, though she still dons her darkleaf lamellar beneath her long flowing abaya, as if Kelmarane, despite being secure for months now, could be attacked at any moment—apparently some habits die hard. Indeed, the only time she has not worn this armor (besides when she sleeps at night) is when Omacui had taken it to Solku to enchant it for her—then she had worn one of the enchanted chain shirts from the crypt which, though it offered better protection, was still too heavy and bulky for her liking. She was very glad to have the flexible lamellar back, especially given its history and rarity—surely no one in Katapesh would have the same kind of useful connections that her father did with other armorers.

A protective amulet—also courtesy of the ranger’s trip to Solku—and an enchanted cloak complete her outfit. Before leaving her house—a generous but deserved gift from Lady Almah—she casts a sad glance at her brand new composite longbow, which had arrived just last week. She had ordered it a few months ago, back when she was patrolling the outlying areas around Kelmarane—a good investment for slaying gnolls from afar—but now that she spends all her time helping to rebuild the town, the bow remains virtually unused, leaning against a wall, lonely and neglected. Such a waste.

She doesn’t miss the patrols though, not with all the gnolls seeming to have vanished. There’s no point roaming the desert with no worthy enemies to fight—that would be a waste of her talents—the rank-and-file soldiers under her command are much better suited to such a dreary task. The dearth of gnolls does concern her though—she senses that something big must be happening, and hopes that Grak is able to find out what it is. He has been gone for several weeks now. Though she won’t admit it to herself, a part of her misses the strange gnoll—or is it just the promise of battle that accompanies him?


DayMost of the morning is devoted to rebuilding the village with her assistant Mika’il. The rescued slave is a quiet, stoic worker, not particularly bright but hard-working and eager to please, and they make a good team. It’s not terribly exciting work, but it’s necessary, and at least it keeps her mind occupied. Fortunately for her, many of the buildings are terribly dilapidated, giving her the challenge she craves, and a myriad of opportunities to exercise engineering skills that have languished since her days as a young recruit helping to fortify Westcrown’s city wall.

After the midday meal and siesta, she takes some time to tour the village, inspecting the town defenses and the guards manning them. Typically there is little to report—the captain of the guard, Ammon, is a capable, like-minded soul who handles the day-to-day affairs in a brisk, efficient manner. Drusilla is grateful for his appointment: she gets along well with the straightforward warrior, and is glad that he has taken over training and management of the militia, a task that she never particularly enjoyed. There were too many ‘people’ issues to deal with: overly emotional wannabe soldiers, jealousy and infighting, and of course addiction to pesh or nightwade or whatever the hell Tahir is selling now these days. Thankfully all of that is out of her hands now. Ammon’s only drawback is a thick Osiriani accent that can be hard to understand, but as she picks up more and more words of the Osirion language, this becomes less of an issue. She has already mastered the rudiments of Kelish (a skill which she keeps secret to her own advantage); with her mother’s gift for tongues, surely Osiriani will also yield in time.

More buildings are reconstructed as the sun slowly sinks behind the mountains, setting the sky aflame with rich purples and deep reds, a vivid tapestry of light that veils the harsh landscape. Despite the many shortcomings of this foreign land, she must admit that the desert can be blessed with a desolate beauty.


DuskAfter the sun has set, Drusilla often eats dinner at the Poppy Seed Inn. Meals here are always bittersweet—somehow, in this backwater village, Qudsiyah has managed to hire an excellent cook, churning out consistently delicious meals, but after almost a year of Kelish food, she sorely misses good old-fashioned Chelish cuisine. Some of the Cult of the Dawnflower eat here too, but they don’t bother her too much—for someone used to dealing with Chelish hellknights, a few zealous cultists aren’t a problem. Nod your head and agree with their nonsense, fabricate sarcastic stories about your husband and children back home in Westcrown, appease them with words but not actions—whatever it takes to get them off your back.

In the late evening the warrior stops by the battlemarket to chat with Nadia. As the tiefling becomes more and more enamored—and jealous—of Tahir, her visits become fewer and fewer. It is strange: the one person she should feel closest to—the only remaining member of the Lions Rampant—and here they are, drifting apart. True, they were never really that close to begin with—more professionals with a good working relationship than good friends—but still, the conversations have become strained of late. Nadia is obsessed with the knife wielding drug dealer, talking about him incessantly and perseverating about what he says, or does not say, what he does, who he does it with, what he thinks, or might not think, or thinks about her thinking about what he thinks, or … frankly, Drusilla can’t take it any more. What makes this especially infuriating is that Nadia used to be so cool and controlled—and she still is, except when talking to Drusilla, who apparently has earned the role of confidant/garbage disposal for all her anxieties about Tahir.

The fighter ends with the same question: “Will you come tonight?” The tiefling shakes her head—she has to stay in the battlemarket, to keep an eye on Tahir. Drusilla can do nothing but shrug. After all that she and Nadia has endured—hellknights, dust-diggers, gnolls, and worse—only to see her friend succumb to the tragedy of love. And to Tahir, of all people. Yes, opposites attract, but really?

So, the warrior visits the graveyard alone, in the deepening darkness while the village slowly goes to sleep. It is a desolate place that most of the townsfolk avoid—and that is during the day. The site is plain and unremarkable, with nothing more than disturbed earth or large rocks marking the buried. Two graves, however, are graced with small tombstones, a single name carved upon each. Horatius. Lucilla. Of all the people in her former adventuring party, theirs are the only remains she could find. She kneels, and prays.
Reply With Quote
  #57  
Old Oct 8th, 2016, 03:23 AM
Admin TeufelHeunden's Avatar
Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden is offline
Ars artis gratia
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Nov 22nd, 2020
RPXP: 24916
Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden
Posts: 11,958
The Sinister Cleave

left-aligned image
Remkah`ar and his friends Pandrecha and the feral gnoll Gazouq were traveling back through the Brazen Peaks. Their delve into the Ruins of Kho had been a tremendous success beyond their dreams. Remkah`ar had upheld his agreement, Pandrecha and Gazouq were carrying so much treasure that even Gazouq had a hard time keeping up with the Ifrit sorcerer as they traversed these dangerous canyons. The young boy had experienced far beyond what his teachers ever dreamed to teach him, and found out that you can never trust anyone as lightly as he had the priest.

Every night they heard the sinister howl coming Pale Mountain. Gazouq seemed to feel the chill in the air from the howl more than the others and whenever she was pressed about the source she growled back that it was evil and she would not speak of it. Remkah`ar managed to gather from Pandrecha two nights ago as they passed under the Pale Mountain that whatever the source of that night howl was is also the source that drove Gazouq out of these mountains and down into the Nightstalls of Katapesh so many years ago, but that the gnoll will not speak of any details about it.

Tonight was not any different; the howl reverberated off the rocks and sunk down into his bones as they trudged across the mountains. Remkah`ar pulled out his water skin taking a long draw as he noticed Pandrecha’s eyes begin to sparkle ahead as she bounced from toe to toe. She had obviously seen something ahead that excited her as she turned crisply around the rock face in front of them. Remkah`ar was about to offer some of his water to the boy when Gazouq bolted from her rear guard charging up front to follow Pandrecha. Something was there, but what.

Remkah`ar corked his water skin and grabbed the boy by the scruff of his collar urging him forward as he quickly ran up to see what they had found.

“The Sinister Cleave!” Pandrecha feverishly called out, “I told you it was here and that we could cut days off our travel.” Gazouq said nothing. Holding her elbows wide and tightening her eyes the gnoll swung out at the witch knocking her off her feet and unceremoniously to the ground in a surprised lump. Remkah`ar felt his heartbeat race as he held his breath. He stopped mid stride as he placed his hand on the chest of the boy. He had only known the pair for a few months, but he had never seen such violence between the pair.

Gazouq growled as though attacking her mortal enemy as her drool spit at Pandrecha, Her feral growling voice cut deep and low, a sign that she would not deviate from what she was saying, “I told you three days ago we will not pass through that canyon. It is filled with the evil of Rovagug and his spawn Jhavhul.” When Gazouq mentioned the Efreeti Prince's name a tear pricked the corner of Remkah`ar’s eye as he felt a sudden dull awareness. He felt as though he had been here before. And that he knew this Jhavhul, even though he had not even so much as heard the name until that very minute.

“We go around down the Dwarven Roads from long ago. It will take more time but we are assured of at least having a chance of surviving these mountains and finding some pesh in a tent back in the Nightstalls.” Gazouq was adamant; there was no way short of being carried on a death stretcher that she would pass under those statues into the harmless looking canyon beyond. The gnoll turned and sped past Remkah`ar and the boy heading back in the direction they had come. Pandrecha stood up dusting herself off and rubbing her triceps that she had fell upon in the assault. With a disgruntled sigh, she sped up to catch Gazouq. As she passed Remkah`ar pushed the boy, "Go follow them, I will catch up soon enough.” And he turned to the winged statues.

He walked slowly up to them, close enough so he did not pass between them, but so that he had to tilt his head up as though looking at the noon sun over the desert to see the faces. They towered above him. Ancient yet so enticing. He was mesmerized by their beauty and craftsmanship. They were ancient and he could not imagine them being built by any hands other than a god's hand, but which god. He felt drawn to enter, his mind almost going blank as he lifted his foot to step forward.

He felt a jolt as the hand grasped his shoulder pulling him backwards. Remkah`ar shook his head snapping out of his dream and spun around to see Gazouq. The gnoll did not hold anger in her eyes as she had for Pandrecha, but a subtle plea. “I beg you Ifrit, you do not have the strength yet to handle what lies beyond those gates, maybe someday you will, but today is not that day. Come, we will go down under this canyon and survive to fight another day.”

The howl came again, cutting into the very rocks of the mountains. As Remkah`ar looked up at the statues he could have sworn they were looking at him and smiling. He turned as Gazouq put her arm around the Ifrit and guided him down the path and around the cliff.
__________________
My apologies to all I game with, going through some challenging times with RL at the moment but I am still here and will persavere. TY for your Patience.
Reply With Quote
  #58  
Old Mar 7th, 2017, 01:24 AM
Admin TeufelHeunden's Avatar
Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden is offline
Ars artis gratia
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Nov 22nd, 2020
RPXP: 24916
Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden
Posts: 11,958
The Behive

left-aligned image
Remkah`ar twisted the ring upon his finger circling it around and around as he beheld the sights before him. The molten copper flowing out from pockets reminded him of something, but what he could not place. The Katapesh sun streamed brightly through the breaks in the rock above them. They were in the BeeHive, a place below the mountains above. Cavernous within the Mountains of Katapesh, a web of chambers fused by snaking tunnels formed a well-protected compound. Notorious as the Beehive, it was located on the part of the Dwarven Road and gained access to by some widely known entrances. A home too many clutches that have inhabited the compound for a time: smugglers, slavers, bandits, gnolls, dwarves, and even 5-foot-tall anthropomorphic bees, from which the burrows acquired their name. The dwarves moved out when nothing prized was revealed behind the rock walls. It was a shortcut for them and would get them past the Dawrven roads by this nightfall according to Gazouq, if they survived.

It was rumored that there were portals down here to other planes, planes of fire and built upon molten metal. Remkah`ar felt at ease down here for some reason. The molten copper heated the surroundings and made him feel, feel almost like he was at home and belonged here – or at least somewhere near. They spent the better part of the day making their way through the tunnels. Gazouq had an eerily familiar sense of these caverns, almost as though she had lived here before.

As they came to a turn suddenly, Gazouq slowed her pace into a slow walk that she had been pushing them on thus far. She seemed to slouch, and her hands dropped with her shoulders in slow, languid motions. She stopped and sat down on a rock outcropping. Remkah`ar looked at her wrinkling his nose blinking, was this feral warrior crying. He walked up to her and touched her gently on her arm as Pandrecha and the boy continued around the corner. Gazouq looked up at Remkah`ar. She had an almost empty glare as she rubbed her chest with the heel of her palm. “What is it Gazouq?” the Ifrit Sorcerer pleaded. “I have never seen you like this.”

Her empty glare turned in the direction around the corner. Her voice was almost tearful and breaking in hitches, “This is where I once lived with my tribe. I thought I could make it past this place, but the memories are just too much. My tribe lived here.” She caught her breath and looked pleadingly at Remkah`ar, “This is where the bloodbath happened that drove me from my lands. The Carrion King sent his army down to either enslave us or kill us. I was the only survivor because I was young and knocked unconscious under the bodies of my family. They were ruthless and not like other gnolls; they did not even stop to eat of the dead, just intent on killing everyone that did not want to join them and follow Rovagug.” She paused a moment and wiped some tears from her eyes, a rare thing to see from a gnoll.

After she had caught her breath, she looked up almost smiling her feral smile at Remkah`ar. She looked at him and gently rubbed his cheeks. “There were stories told when I was young in this place. These were stories of Jhavhul and his brother entering here through those streams of liquid metal. The descriptions of his brother remind me of you young Ifrit. Come we must go and get out of this place; it is too dangerous to stay here in the night.” With that, she leaped up from her rock and pushed forward at her fast pace from before. Remkah`ar wondered what she meant that he reminded her of those stories from her childhood, and what about the stories of those Genies entering here and leaving through the rivers of molten copper. He would need to think about that later. If he did not keep pace with them, he would not find his way out of this BeeHive.

As he came around the corner, he saw what she had feared. There were hundreds of gnoll skeletons scattered across the cavern around the corner. Most twisted and mutilated in grotesque positions. He now understood why she was saddened to come past this place if this was indeed her home.

They pushed through the rest of the day until they found the exit and a few miles more to a cave she knew about. They rested and ate while hydrating themselves before setting watch and settling down for the night.
__________________
My apologies to all I game with, going through some challenging times with RL at the moment but I am still here and will persavere. TY for your Patience.
Reply With Quote
  #59  
Old Apr 19th, 2017, 02:09 AM
ShinobiMaster123's Avatar
ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 is offline
Great Wyrm
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Nov 6th, 2020
RPXP: 7232
ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123 ShinobiMaster123
Posts: 3,980
Revelations

Dullen looks down at the vanquished creature. Even though the connection is strained here in this valley, he knows that Irori is still with him. His faith brings him closer and closer to him. Prayer, dedication, duty. Self improvement towards perfection. His journey towards becoming a Redeye Knight is one that is bringing challenges to overcome, but will make him stronger in the end.

Dullen looks at his father's sword, and the engraving of the Redeye order. He takes a sweeping motion with the blade and the creatures ichor flings off the cold iron blade effortlessly.

Not a magical blade, just made of material that is the bane to many different creatures. With the power of knowledge, Irori grants his warriors ways to bypass creatures defenses.

This Cleave is a deathtrap. An area blasted by so much wish magic, that the very fabric of existence is strained. Dullen thinks back to his Redeye training in the desert with Obeegon. He worked Dullen hard and for hours on using his father's sword. He thinks back on the conversation...

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

Dullen was sweating profusely.
left-aligned image
Obeegon ran him through multiple different sword play scenarios for hours. As the sweat pours down his brow, it runs into his eyes causing a stinging sensation and makes it difficult to keep his eyes focused.

""Obeegon, I don't understand. If the way of the Redeye is to champion peace, why do I need to take up the sword. You have given me the ability to defend myself with my fists, for protection.""

Obeegon, shakes his head and laughs heartily. ""So young. So opinionated to think you know better than I. Irori teaches that knowledge will be the downfall of any enemy. One small pebble taken from the right place in a stone structure will cause the entire structure to fall. All it takes is knowledge. You may think this as a pointless exercise after all the teachings we have done int he mountains, but that sword may one day save your life. The properties of that sword and are like those of the order. Handed down by generations. Though not of arcane of nature, it bypasses the defenses of certain creatures. To that I will leave to you to discover."" Obeegon says with a wry smile upon his face.

"Now stop your whining, Again!" Dullen continues his exercises until sunset, confident that Obeegon is leading him down the right path..

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

Dullen looks down at the sword that saved his life and nods to the sky, ""Obeegon, never should have doubted you."" Dullen expertly sheaths the cold iron longsword and looks toward the mountain in the distance. He look up and says,""Continue the faith my friends, I am on the way...""

__________________
Live each day as it was your last, for one day you will be correct

Last edited by ShinobiMaster123; Apr 27th, 2017 at 10:39 PM.
Reply With Quote
  #60  
Old Aug 26th, 2017, 02:25 AM
Admin TeufelHeunden's Avatar
Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden is offline
Ars artis gratia
 
Tools
User Statistics
Last Visit: Nov 22nd, 2020
RPXP: 24916
Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden Admin TeufelHeunden
Posts: 11,958
Kelmarane

left-aligned image
Rem’ka har speculated where his life was headed and where he would end up in the end of this world. He thought about how that cleric named Dullen was faring, the one that frequented his dreams ever since they passed the Sinister cleave and ventured south through the caves. He remembered that Dullen and he had been friends, if only in his dreams. Dullen suggested they meet for dinner, but Rem’ka har didn't have access to that realm of wishes so he only hoped that the warrior would hear his call and reach out to him should the chance arise.

The thought brought back memories of having his face smashed into a bale of snot-damp pesh, his knees pressed into chest as the Pactmasters drove onward into the open desert toward their destination of Kapetesh.

Rem’ka har awoke with a jolt in the cave, a small bit of sweat rolling down the side of his face and launching off his cheek only to land on his shoulder and absorb into his robes.

He looked over at the Gnoll, Gazouq’s sneer growling back at him. Gazouq had taken a special interest in Rem’ka har. She had told him shameful and embarrassing things, stuff Rem’ka har would have liked to erase from their collective memory, but having her as a confidant had kept him from losing his mind that year. Rem’ka har felt like maybe he owed her something. She was probably going to be alone when they reached Kapetesh, as he was.

Rem’ka har stood up and went to the mouth of the cave stretching to weave out the sores from lying on the rocky bed they slept on that night. He glanced out into the blinding sun as she rose across the horizon and saw Pandrecha who wore a fringed, buff-colored jacket he had never seen, like a Bedouin jacket he had seen south of here many years ago. The witch was staring blankly into the distance. Rem’ka har felt a blast of anxiety; certain he had made an intrusion on some mystic veneration. He was going to drive her away, but Pandrecha saw him and smiled.

Rem’ka har made a few quick glances back at the depths of the cave and back out into the endless sands, as though he thought someone might see him, closed his robes a bit, and approached Pandrecha.

"Let's not go there," Pandrecha said, thumbing at the tall desert dune to the south. The witch seemed shorter and thicker than Rem’ka har remembered her.

Rem’ka har asked her where she'd like to go. She said it didn't matter to her; she would go where the winds call. She said there was a village down in the valley that she remembered having adored, though she couldn't recall the name.

The troop took a hard curve and Rem’ka har told himself to slow down. A scenic overlook vacillated past, a glimpse of the endless pesh fields spread out in the valley below. Tremendous boulders were strewn along the edge of the road in the shadow of orange cliffs towering on the right.

The road sloped into the foothills and came to the crossing just outside the village of Kelmarane. The Inland Kingdom stretched in both directions. "Swing a left here," said Gazouq, meaning east toward the village. They passed a mill for the grain and pesh set upon the riverfront. Rem’ka har began to dread the empty silences lying ahead in this all to quiet village. Pandrecha kept glancing to the sides of the road, and Rem’ka har got the strange idea that he was eyeing a place he would see sometime again in the future.
__________________
My apologies to all I game with, going through some challenging times with RL at the moment but I am still here and will persavere. TY for your Patience.
Reply With Quote
Reply

Thread Tools

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off



All times are GMT -4. The time now is 06:57 PM.
Skin by Birched, making use of original art by paiute.(© 2009-2012)


RPG Crossing, Copyright ©2003 - 2020, RPG Crossing Inc; powered by vBulletin, Copyright ©2000 - 2020, Jelsoft Enterprises Ltd. Template-Modifications by TMB