Post/Author/DateTime	Post
aravilar_holistacia 08-19-04, 02:10 AM	The Darkness and the Light An epic Forgotten Realms in-story novelistic roleplaying campaign "When love returns to two of heart and the world is cloaked in fright, tested true will friendships be in the Darkness and the Light." So sayeth the wise Alaundo in a letter to the lord augur Eurid of Myth Drannor circa the Year of the Ominous Oracle (694 DR) It is the Year of Risen Elfkin, 1375 DR, and the continent of Faerūn has been swept by a plague of assassinations, coups, rebellions, and even several open conflicts between otherwise peaceful nations. Common folk have learned to shy away from the shadows, lest they be sucked into their inky depths, lost to the ages; around every corner could lurk a single-minded killer, waiting for her moment to strike from the dark, only to melt back into the shadows once her mission has been completed. The nations of Cormyr and Sembia have all but collapsed into open civil war, thanks to a series of murderous rampages by a nameless figure of darkness, and the city of Waterdeep has been under martial law for almost two years. The Masked Lords of that city have turned to regularly making attempts on each others' lives, and Lady Aleena Paladinstar (the Open Lord of the city, and the heiress of Lord Piergeiron Paladinson's office) has withdrawn into her Palace, never to be seen by the public, so great is her sorrow and depression over the state of the nation. Even worse, the Chosen of Mystra are nowhere to be found: Only Syluné, the ghostly Chosen, tied to the lands around the city of Shadowdale, remains, and she knows naught of her sisters' and companions' fates. With the Chosen seemingly gone from Faerūn (which has been confirmed by scrying magic of many nations), the goddess Mystra has lost a considerable amount of power, greatly weakening her hold on the magical Weave. Her servitor deities, Azuth, Savras, and even Velsharoon, have banded together to maintain Mystra's control of magic, but in the fraying ends of the Weave, a sinister darkness has begun to pervade the purity of the fabric of spells. As each nation, one by one, falls into disorder and eventual chaos, there is a deepening darkness settling over the Western Heartlands, growing more and more palpable as Faerūn sinks into civil war. The elves of both Evereska and the island of Evermeet have been largely unable (and unwilling) to help in the mainly-human problems of civil war... but even in the bastions of elven might there lurks a dangerous umbra of evil. Rumors of a war in the heavens has caused great alarm within the elven nation, and not even the highest of the Seldarine clerics nor the greatest of the high mages can determine what battles rage in the planes above; every attempt to scry the heavens is met only with a strong opposing will, so great that some high mages and some high priests have withdrawn into insanity. The gods of Toril are growing restless, as the evil that is pervading the Material Plane grows steadily more noticable. Even their divine divinations cannot tell from where this sinister darkness stems, but one thing is certain--heavenly war is imminent, and the world of Toril will not be spared the battles of the gods. (And now, a note from me! :D Some of you will remember my characters Aravilar and Keya, and I've brought them back in this RP for an encore performance. Their tragic love story has been in the works in various forms since November 2003, and this will be the ultimate incarnation of that story. Once the main characters post, it will be much easier to define the sides to the story, but for now, I'll note that there are two main plots to this story: the classic good versus evil, with the protagonists adventuring to find the source of the evil power, and the secondary story, with Aravilar and Keya trying desparately to be reunited with each other. All are welcome to join the thread! I'd be happy to have you join us in our epic story. Be sure to post an appropriate introduction for your character, and get started. For RP purposes, characters on the side of good (loyal to Aravilar) should attempt to start in the city of Silverymoon, and characters on the side of evil (loyal to the shade demon) should begin in the castle of Darkhold (the seat of the shade's power.) And now... the prologue. Enjoy!) Edit: 8/23/04 1:32 AM EST The boards upgrade will cause a good deal of our posts to be lost. Please save all posts made so that they can be reposted after the upgrade is complete, until further notice. Thank you. Also, I have written several future chapter synopses that will be a guideline for where the story will go--while you are free and encouraged to expand on the story, the chapter guidelines are there to keep the story centered and on topic. I'll have those posted soon after the boards upgrade. Dramatis Personae (Current as of 8/21 1:15 PM EST) The forces of the Light Aravilar Holistacia, celestial elven high mage from Myth Drannor Keya Moonstar, celestial elven enchantress from Myth Drannor, an incarnation of the goddess Hanali Celanil Saerynishar, shadow construct archwizard from the Graypeak Mountains Fiorentina, planetouched human paladin from Waterdeep Devaen Othil, wood elven ranger from the High Forest Kistil Calagen, wild elven sorcerer from Silverymoon Drazar, half-draconic (blue) (cleric of Bahamut?) from Shadowdale Gilithian O'Mar, half-wood half-sun elven arcane ranger from the Silver Marches The forces of the Darkness Sabbola, demon shade from the Plane of Shadow Linne Moonshadow, moon elven shadow priestess of Shar from Deepingdale Delwyn, human bard from the North Prologue: What We Left Behind As if the forest itself had warped to conform to her presence, the pool of water she had appeared in was suddenly pushed back, in a perfect circle, around her pale feet. The vaguely elven girl looked more like light made corporeal than a flesh-and-blood creature, but when she stepped tentatively forward, she found that her body was indeed solid and she was indeed standing on the bottom of the cool pond. She flexed her toes slowly, as if she did not believe her own existence, and when she felt the sandy silt of the pond's floor between her toes, she smiled very slightly, a smile that although to the eyes of any looking upon her shining form would seem more a smile of confirmation, to the white-feathered elf that smile was the expenditure of almost a thousand years of built-up waiting and hoping, a smile born of long years of silence and solitude, a smile born of all the warmth in her heart that she still harbored... for one purpose and one purpose alone. She blinked once, her pale blue eyes focusing to encompass the small glade she had appeared in, and when she finally gathered enough courage to walk forward from the watery portal, she smiled again, this time much more warmly and much more sincerely. She was returned... returned again to the world of mortals that she had known back in the days of elven glory, back in the days of Coronals and mythals and armathors, the days where men like Eltargrim Irithyl were honored figures, and where the values of honor and truth were upheld by the strong. She sniffed once, taking in the fresh scent like that of earth after a rainstorm, and blinked her cornflower eyes once again. She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but seemed to think better of such an endeavour as she walked slowly around the forest's misty trunks. She knew how she had come to be in the wood--there had been a woman dressed in gold, and a man with gleaming silver and gold armor. "And there was a... flash of light and then..." she said aloud, but as she heard her own voice for the first time in hundreds of years, she nearly jumped in surprise. Keya's own melodic tones sounded like a wistful ballad of long ago as she scowled at her own timidity. "Perhaps I should become more used to this new form before I try speaking with any clarity..." she mused aloud. She examined her pale form, looking along the lengths of her arms and legs before abruptly (and rather belatedly) realizing that she was nude--she quickly spoke a few syllables of magic and flicked her fingers, and a silken, form-fitting dress with a color to match her eyes materialized upon her person, and she allowed her embarassment to subside. After she regained enough of her faculties she examined her newly-acquired, white-feathered wings, first stroking her left wing lightly with a fingertip, then doing the same to the other, feeling the smooth, soft feathers beneath her until quite recently unused fingers. She smirked slightly, a mischievious grin that won her so many admirers back in the days of old, and flexed her wings experimentally. The long wings moved back and forth slowly, and she grinned even more devilishly and gave a short flap of her wings. To her great delight, she floated a few inches off the ground before landing with a quiet thud on the soft earth. Out of the corner of the enchantress's eye came a flicker of bright light, and she turned quickly to meet the supposed threat, but as she looked closely at the source of the radiance, she found yet another small pool of water. Curious, Keya walked to the edge of the mirror-like water and gazed into its reflective depths. "By Corellon..." she whispered to herself, and her eyes went wide as she noticed for the first time the halo of light that crowned her head. She ran a hand through her pale purple strands of hair, pushing her bangs from her eyes so that she could study the annulus of light more closely. "It's beautiful," she said with a note of awe in her voice. But as the angel examined her own face, she could not help but visualize another visage. "Ara... Aravilar." His silvery hair. His deep blue eyes, streaked with gold. His always-far off look, as if he was never really sensing the present... always looking to the future, never set in one moment of time. The face she conjured in her mind turned to meet her glance, and her eyes met his... and there was a flicker of recognition in a recess of her mind. He was alive. She looked down at her finger, where a ring of pink crystal glowed brightly... the ring that Aravilar had given to her so that they would always be in contact, always together... By Hanali, he was still alive! The name sounded at once both a name of hope and a name of despair. Keya quickly looked away and found herself wiping unbidden tears from her eyes. At last she remembered why she was returned, the sole reason she was granted this immortal form. "Aravilar," she said again, as if to prove to herself she could speak the name still. "Where...?" she mouthed, although no sound came from her mouth, and no answer was gifted to her. And it was at that moment she stood from her reverie and finally came to terms with the world around her, finally realizing her purpose for existence. With a glare and a series of gestures, she began to weave a matrix of spell effects around her, casting her spells with more and more speed until her nose began to bleed a bright red. She continued to take out her frustration on the spell matrix she had woven until the matrix could hold no more energy, and it collapsed into a roiling maelstrom of elemental components and half-developed spell powers. When she finally ceased throwing about her spells, she wiped her nose unconcernedly. More than an hour passed before the angelic elf reached the edge of the forest she had spawned from, and when she laid eyes upon the relatively small town in the distance, she instantly recognized it. "Highmoon," she said to herself, blinking her pale blue eyes with the same childish curiousity she had centuries ago. With each step she took towards the town, she recounted each year she spent in solitude... each year spent alone... each tear shed... each second she was without her love... each second she was without Aravilar.
aravilar_holistacia 08-19-04, 05:03 AM	The mindvoice rang through Aravilar Holistacia's head like a sweet song from a bard's lute, each word sounding like a lyric from a bygone ballad, so melodic were the words spoken to him. The voice that he had not heard in centuries sounded just as it did over six hundred years ago... but he knew it wasn't real. The smiling face that he saw in his mind's eye was only a memory of what he once had... who he once loved. The mage frowned slightly as his memories flowed into an intimate moment he had shared with that chestnut-haired girl of his past, his fingers moving through her hair as his memories forced their lips together and apart, her sapphire eyes gleaming in the moonlight. And yet... the emotions weren't there. The feeling, both physical and emotional... was dulled. The passion he should have felt, the heat from her kiss on his lips, the softness of her hair between his fingers... they were all ghostly, mocking reminders of what was torn from him. And with that thought, he blinked a tear that had formed in his eye away and dispelled the Reverie he had fallen into. Aravilar blinked again, the sunlit room coming into focus, and as his eyes traveled to the man who was standing several paces away he stood, hoping this was not another hallucination from his past. The other man turned around, the pointed tips of his ears catching the light from the open window as he whirled about. "Aravilar," the elven man said, "you were speaking aloud in Reverie again." "And was I predicting good fortunes and light laughter for the People, Dev?" Aravilar said with a wry grin. "Was I telling you that you would have the child of a goddess and that you would become Coronal of your own city?" Devaen Othil shot Aravilar a patronizing look and turned his eyes to the sky outside the golden window. It was unlike the elven high mage to joke about such things, but even in this dark time for Faerūn spirits had to be light. "And certainly the spirit of Aravilar is the most darkened of all the elves of Evermeet," Dev thought to himself. The sun-drenched island of Evermeet, the last bastion of defense for the Tel'Quessir of Toril, was a hub of activity as of late, with many prominent Faerūnian leaders coming to confer with Evermeet's chief priests on the darkness that was pervading the Western Heartlands. Rumors of entire villages being destroyed and their populations slaughtered by an unknown, fell force were causing widespread panic in the civilized nations of the continent, and with every divination cast to determine the source of the spreading darkness, there was another attack and another massacre. Human and elf alike were confounded with the malevolence, and no small measure of concern was in the air at the palace of Queen Amlaruil. "You were thinking of her again, were you not?" Devaen said quietly, unsure whether he should have even opened his mouth about such an event. Aravilar raised an eyebrow and stretched his white-feathered wings, electing to leave the question unanswered. Of course he was thinking of the only woman he'd ever loved, and he was certain Dev already knew the answer to that query. Crossing the room in a dozen strides, Aravilar opened the door and motioned for Devaen to follow. "We're expected at the Palace," he said coolly, turning his metallic silver eyes towards the golden-spired palace compound only a few miles away. From behind him, the other elven man snorted indignantly. Devaen, a green elf, did not have much respect for the crown of Evermeet, even if he was bound by its laws. "Fine, I'm going," Dev said, unconcernedly. "The Queen won't be any more phased by my advice than by anyone else's. Even if I'm the one who actually scouted the Dales for her." And the ranger had the scar on his cheek to prove it. Aravilar turned his head towards the dusky skin of the other elf and let his eyes fall on the long, reddish band that went from Devaen's temple, across his lips, and down to the left of his chin and out of sight. "If that damned shade had extended his arm just a fingertip's length further..." Devaen began, but Aravilar tuned the wood elf out. From their vantage point on the top of Mooncrown Hill the duo of elves could see much of the island--including the brightly-colored sails of a fleet of ships that were anchored in the harbor of the capital of Leuthilspar, proudly displaying the sigils of a half-dozen nations: Waterdeep's crescent moon, Sembia's Raven, Cormyr's Purple Dragon, and a number of other lesser nations' symbols danced along the sails of the fleet's caravels. Aravilar winced at the sight--he could almost hear the cries of the more traditional elven nobles, the outrage at their island home being host to this array of humans, delegations from the "n'tel'quess" nations that didn't deserve to walk on the sacred isle. As if to prove this view, Devaen spat on the ground as he rounded the bend of the path the duo was taking down the hill. "Amlaruil's insane if she thinks she's going to be in power much longer, you know," Dev said with a note of annoyance in his voice. "Not that I care about such things, but she's enraged the nobles." "It's her decision, not ours. She is our Queen," Aravilar noted, "and she is the People. If she wants to hold council here on the island, she is free to do so." Devaen rolled his eyes theatrically, behind Aravilar's back. "Don't give me that nonsense, Aravilar," he said with a grimace. "And don't speak treasonous words, captain," Aravilar retorted. Aravilar smiled slightly as he mentioned Devaen's military rank. It was more a comment meant to annoy the other elf, although both elves knew who was the superior--even if they were in entirely different branches of the military. As Aravilar smiled, Devaen scowled. "Yes, spellmajor," the green elf said sarcastically. Aravilar smiled even more, knowing Devaen was sufficiently bothered by his rank comment. It was several hours after the duo reached the palace that they emerged from between the golden doors of the Queen's court. After a fond farewell, Devaen returned to his home on the north side of the isle. "Sweet water and light laughter, Aravilar, until next we meet," the green elf said in the traditional manner. Aravilar nodded, but something was tugging at the edges of his thoughts. "We can't penetrate the darkness with any of our scrying spells," the Queen had said. "Not even the high mages can figure out who is behind this. And all we've heard from the gods is short warnings of impending battles, and then they end the communication spells." Amlaruil was looking very old indeed, the years of rule finally weighing down on her conscious, but in the light of the court, her eyes betrayed her true feelings and the true nature of the situation. Amlaruil was a Chosen of the Seldarine, the protector of the People on Toril--she was the voice of the gods for her nation. But in her eyes there was a missing glow, a missing spark of divine power that she once had in abundance. Once the rest of the congregation had left the court, she spoke to Aravilar in private. "Aravilar... I have to tell you something," she said, in her even voice. "Corellon and Sehanine have whispered portents of things to come to me, things that chill me to my core, things that I fear will escalate the civil wars that have broken out all over Faerūn." Aravilar had guessed that she was in secret contact with the gods, but he hadn't expected her to reveal that to him. The high mage nodded, blinking slowly. "Have you any idea what is happening around Darkhold, my lady?" Aravilar asked the Queen, his voice betraying his concern. "That's not important," she said, and Aravilar raised his brow, genuinely surprised. "It's about Hanali," she said quickly, as if saying that sentence faster would keep Aravilar from reacting strongly. Her ploy failed--Aravilar's dull silver eyes seemed to glow with inner light, the miniscule gold streaks catching that light and refracting it inside his pupils. "Hanali, my lady?" he said, his voice yet again betraying his emotion, save that this time his voice spoke of much deeper emotions than mere concern. "The Lady Goldheart was very pleased about something... but at every turn I was blocked in my questions," the Queen explained. "She was happier than I've seen any of the Seldarine in recent years." Aravilar nearly jumped up from his seat, so great was his interest. "Could this have anything to do with my..." The wizard trailed off. He didn't want to admit to the Queen of the Elves that he was having recurrent fantasies in his Reverie, but before he could cover up his words, she cradled his hand in hers and said, "There is no shame in what you are experiencing, Aravilar." She gave his hand a short squeeze and stood up, releasing it and moving towards a window. "Yes, I think your... dreams... could have something to do with Hanali's joy." The Queen and Aravilar both shuddered at the word "dreams". Elves did not dream. "You can't be serious," Aravilar attempted to reply with a bite in his tone, but it was plain for the Queen to see the emotions she had elicited from the high mage. Aravilar's eyes, like most elves', betrayed his true feelings. "Keya Moonstar," the Queen said, "is Hanali's incarnation. And the only reason Hanali would be so happy would be if her incarnation were alive again." Aravilar scowled and stood, turning away from the Queen. "That's impossible. She was killed when the mythal at Myth Drannor was in flux, her spirit was lost in the void in the Weave that the Army of Darkness made when they attacked." The Queen looked to Aravilar, a flash in her eyes. "Impossible? I think not," she said, her tone suddenly icy. Aravilar turned about, and gave a small bow. "I apologize, my lady, but you understand my skepticism." "I understand that you need time to deal with that revelation," she countered, the icy tone still ringing clearly in the court's white walls. The high mage nodded and said, "What would you have me do?" Aravilar knew full well what the Queen would order him to do, but it was a formality he was willing to commit. "The lord mage of Silverymoon is reluctant to deal directly with this new dark threat, but he may have more information about it than we. And I am certain he will be pleased to see Evermeet involved in this investigation. You are to go to the city of Silverymoon," she said, walking across the marble floor to Aravilar, "and you are to find out why the gods are so inclined to withhold information from us." Aravilar nodded again and said in response, "I shall return when the gods will it so." The response was standard for all military men and women who were venturing off into the unknown, but Aravilar was sure that the reply was more than a formality in this case--it was more than likely the solemn truth. "May Hanali shine her light upon your face until you return, Aravilar," she said, "and may Corellon guide your spells." She leaned to him and kissed his cheek, the second surprise to Aravilar this day, and when she stood upright again, her eyes were glistening with tears. She smiled slightly and said in the human fashion (something that she had grown more fond of as her time with the humans grew longer), "Good luck." Aravilar smiled back and nodded before turning about and walking from the Queen's throne room. He didn't hear the tear she shed hit the floor, nor did he know that the tears in her eyes were not her own, but the tears of the Seldarine, weeping for the unseen future that threatened to change the lives of all the elves left on Faerūn.
Luren, High Demilich Lord 08-19-04, 03:30 PM	A voice chimed in, deep, regal, and filled with a sickening spite. The voice was very loud, projected over the cavern, reaching all the recesses, and shaking the ground near that who uttered it. "The Shadow Weave!" The figure, seeming to absorb the light that shines on him, spreads his arms, them leaving small streaks of pitch darkness as they cut through the air. The creatures behind him, an entourage of sorts, staring with a stoic, unfailing gaze at those massed below the battlements of the castle they stood on. Composed of Adamantium, worked with hellfires, it spiraled into the heights of the cavern, its surface completely smooth. It must be ten feet thick, And at the least two hundred feet tall. And those were just the walls. Out of the walls rose eight towers, their surface jutting spikes, as they curved into the air to almost join in the center over the castle. Those towers, those spikes protruding from them, could not help but give one the sickening feeling that not all was as it seemed. The towers... They seemed almost, flexible. With the cacohonus words uttered by the being of dark, the towers roiled with a slow energy, tendrils of it lashing out to suck the light from the room. The large cavern, the ceiling of which, when even able to be seen was covered with not only rocky outcroppings, but creatures. Cloackers, those of magnitude seen nowhere else. Spiders, of such size they could fight a great metallic dragon with ease. And below... Below, away from the castle, roiling masses. Sentient dead, Demons, devils, Yugoloths, Mutants of all races, grim maladies of life. Where the ground was not its charred black, there were either geysers, vomiting forth a greenish liquid with corrosive properties, red hot magma, or rivers and ponds of these liquids. "We join, all of us, to bring unity to that of the Shadow, and the Weave!" His voice, bellowing out, would seemingly shatter the eardrums of anything within his vicinity. His entourage, seemingly not there. Now that it's pondered on, they looked like gods. But no, not quite gods, merely messengers of them. Their purpose? Seemingly to oversee the small 'presentation'. this figure must be powerful, there were many creatures near him. The roiling masses below yelled, screamed, cheered, and otherwise caused a small riot. Though it could not be seen, on that things forehead, a vein was bulging, and about to burst. He roared out, and jetissoned a roiling tendril of darkness over the masses, pulling it back to let loose a deafening crash, knocking many to the floor. "SILENCE! You will listen!" He drew in a sharp breath. "In this equation, we have the variables. We have solved them all except for two. The divine force that we need to join the Shadow Weave with the Weave, and how to get that divine essence." His hand went to the side, and out of darkness shon light. The very matter was folding on itself to make a view of a field. A foot treads on the ground where the view is, and the view flies up to view the face of that which bears the foot. The face is fair, has pale blue eyes and purple hair. A halo garners the head, causing this figure to spit in disgust. The view freezes, the picture captured to be hissed at. "This. This pathetic wretch, this scum, this carbuncle on that which is the flesh of life is our target. She will provide us with the divine essence needed. Her name is Keya." He keeps the image floating there, and turns back to the roiling mass of underlings. "You have your orders. Follow they explicitly, and you shall live to witness the new world that comes with the merge. That is all." The figure turns on his heel, and dissapears through a set of black doors. The crowd disperses, many going through gates to other planes. With that, there is silence, the cavern is still, and it is as nothing happened. Inside the keep, a figure made entirely of bladed chains stands behind the shade, and in a grating mettalic voice, utters a short sentance. It cannot be made out, only the response. "Yes, Rallaster. The blood shall flow thick from the mortals once we have the essence. There will be all the destruction even to sate YOUR appetite. But for now, I want you and the others to go back to trying to life the ban that bastard Shaundakul has placed on me." With that, the being turns into a whirling maelstrom of chain and blade, slowly fading out of the castle.
Saerynishar 08-19-04, 07:19 PM	In one second, a nigh-infinite number of events unfolded about the Realms, from the birth of a child to the death of an elder. Each of these could be logically deduced from the past events, the pregnancy from the love from the glittering of the eyes of the father, the death from the disease from the lack of food in the poverty-ridden village. Reality was reality was reality, though, for the mage. His senses mightn't have been a valid representation of the world, but they were his, and reacting to something outside of his senses would have required an assumption; he did not make assumptions. Oh, no. Assumptions led to pride, which led to more assumptions. Flash. In that second, the world itself had unfurled before him, memories he had erased long years ago springing back into existence. Searing fires, an amalgam of physical and spiritual rendings, and in the end darkness. A guttural scream escaped him; his very nature torn asunder for that instant. Cool. Stone. Marble, that was the word for it. He'd fallen. Sensory perception of the floor, all knowledge beginning with a single feeling. From there it would lead to more complex... pains. Memories. Echoes of the past. Something. His mind would take that and stabilize it, take it from the ephemeral and into the form of the substance. "What.. in the hells did I just feel?" his voice creaked, unused in the past century. The stone moved away from him, or he moved away from it. Altogether irrelevant, honestly, and he soon found himself floating vertically several inches in thin air. Ebony silks trailed from his tattered robes, fluttering wildly as cerulean energies pulsed in concentric circles, summoning trinkets to him. Momentarily, he found himself armed for a battle he hadn't realized he'd be fighting. Like every damned battle in his life. The floor grew more distant as he floated through the window, roused for the first time in an age.
aravilar_holistacia 08-20-04, 06:00 AM	Ever closer the city loomed in the distance, and Aravilar let his eyes wander from the towers of Silverymoon across the low hills to the Nether Mountains to the southeast, and to the Moonwood to the north. The high mage could even see with his sharp elven eyes the figures of Silverymoon's spellguards, standing at the gates, their wands at the ready, and their faces set with grim expressions, as if they were awaiting the apocalypse. The sun was low in the sky, an orange and yellow sheen spreading across the high clouds that were streaked along the fabric of blue, and occasionally, there would be a quick flash and a shimmer of magical energy: Aravilar smiled, knowing full well of the secrets of Silverymoon's mythal would keep would-be magical deviants from entering the spired city. "But will it protect the silver city from this impending darkness...?" Aravilar mused aloud, and he turned his eyes to the southeast. Although he couldn't see the clouds of shade that had covered nearly half of the Heartlands, he could sense the aura of fell spirits, and he shivered slightly. No mythal, save for Evermeet's divine shell, could withstand such a force. By the time Aravilar reached the gates of the city the stars had already begun to shine their astral brilliance down upon the plains surrounding the city, and the night watch had been posted to the city walls and gates. As he neared the gate one of the watchmen moved to intercept the elven mage. "Traveler, you are hereby subjected to a search of all--" the young soldier said, but another watchman who was slightly taller and who had a series of golden insignia welded to his breatplate stepped out from inside a guardhouse and walked to the other soldier's side. The older guardsman bowed slightly to Aravilar and said in a rough voice, a voice marred by years of soldiering in the Silver Marches, "Welcome to Silverymoon, milord. I trust your journey was uneventful?" Aravilar did not know who this nameless captain was, but he replied in turn, "Uneventful, yes. I am Aravilar Holistacia, an emissary of Evermeet, here to see the Lord Mage." The soldiers around the gate looked uneasily at each other, but the captain stood firm. "So I surmised. I will send for him, lord wizard." Aravilar nodded and said with a sigh, "Tell him I'll be in the guildhall." Without another word, Aravilar swept past the guards and entered the torch-lit streets of the silver city.
Zollex 08-20-04, 09:26 PM	Kistil sat in his office, taking a brief brake from the constant decision-making to insure the protection of Silverymoon, as well as much of the Lord's Alliance as possible. A knock on the door broke the wild elf's quiet contemplation. He sighed and said, "Enter." A guard opened the door and stepped into the room, then stood at attention in front of the desk and said, "Sir, there is an Aravilar Holistacia of Evermeet here that wishes to speak with you. He is waiting in the guildhall." Kistil nodded and dismissed the guard. "Great. More negotiations," he mumbled as he got up from his all-too-comfortable chair. The elf walked out of his room, out of the building, and onto the streets of Silverymoon. He passed a few of Silverymoon's inns, most of which were packed with the nobles that wished to escape the chaos of their homeland. Finally, he came to the guildhall. Kistil took a deep breath and prepared himself. He stepped through the broad opening into the hall, and found Aravilar pacing across the room. "I guess you're the emissary from Evermeet. I'm Kistil Calagen, the lord mage of Silverymoon. I have been handling the negotiations for Lady Alustriel. What news is there from the Isle of the Elves?"
aravilar_holistacia 08-21-04, 12:19 AM	Aravilar heard the voice before he saw the other elf, and he lifted his head from silent contemplation to meet the other's gaze. "News indeed," Aravilar said with a twitch of annoyance. "I was actually hoping you could give me some news. The elves of Evermeet have been largely unsuccessful in determining the source of the dark clouds that have covered the Heartlands, and Queen Amlaruil sent me to confer with you on that," the high mage explained. "Would you have any information at all? Evermeet has none." That brought another pang of annoyance to the celestial elf. Evermeet was the island home of the elves, the divine grounds of the People, and its citizens were supposedly the most intelligent and learned of the Tel'Quessir... and not even Evermeet could locate the source of the disturbance. Surely, a human nation wouldn't be able to do more than the isle of the People.
Lord Tarran 08-21-04, 02:27 AM	Elsewhere in Silverymoon, along the streets, heading towards the main building. Drazar was exhausted. Having run all the way, on all fours, from Shadowdale, the half blue dragon was beginning to feel the pains of his mortal heritage, as his body began to give way. His normally glistening saphire scales were caked with mud. His shining black horn was chipped and dirty. His armor, though form fitting to a fault, was beginning to chafe, and its magic to allow him to run as he did was beginning to wear down. Though he was still a blue blur to the townspeople, Drazar knew that soon he would be a pile on the floor of Silverymoon Guildhall. With a last spurt of speed, he could see the hall ahead, as he used his front claws to punce himself over the gate and into the door. Barrelling through it, Drazar fell in a clump at Aravilar's feet, his golden, and enchanted, Symbol of Bahamut was the only clean thing on him, glowing as it lay around Drazar's neck. With the last energy within him, Drazar whispers, "My lords, news from Sylune. Strange shadow creatures attack the edges of the Vale. By her calculations, they should arrive in the city before tonight's nightfall. She also..." All 8ft, 450 pounds of Drazar collapses completely, as he drops into unconciousness.
Saerynishar 08-21-04, 03:13 AM	"Sir, you will need to be examined in order to proceed into Silverymoon." The man's voice was irritating, but not overly so, and this appeared to be his purpose. Tone slightly nervous, approach oddly hesitant; of course, the silks swathing Saerynishar were drawing in the very radiance of the sun. This would excuse the fear, perhaps. "Examined?" calm, unassuming, that was the voice to use, "I assure you, I am quite harmless. In either event, the spellweb around your city will decide for certain if I belong within; you see, I am not certain myself if I am wanted here. Seems to me that you aren't, either. As such, shall we test the magic?" Wiser than youthful features belied, the soldier nodded his acquiescence and joined Saerynishar across the bridge, then noted as both of them passed effortlessly through the wards. A relieved smile flickered onto his face; he would not have to sacrifice himself against this strange mage after all. “I must ask your business before I allow you to continue.” The gold of silence filled the gates of Silverymoon, then the archwizard spoke, “I am making certain your reality does not unravel.” With those words he turned and, quite contentedly, left the baffled guard, moving off to seek audience with the most learned man in the city.
Fiorentina 08-21-04, 06:31 AM	She was thankful for the sunrise. It was always a welcome comfort and yet a grim reminder of the days of her youth. She was just a child when the Efreeti enslaved her people. Though they had not been treated as badly as the flame elves whose lot was to work like mongrels in the searing heat of infernal mines. Her destiny had been forged in servitude, though she seemed to enjoy it. Being an indentured servant was more like a life of privilege and far more advantageous than to being a disposable slave yet still a pawn in the master plan. She learned to accept what she was and there was no shame in that. Being a half-elemental her passion for life burned within her heart as her appearance burned continuously within flames of fire. And just as she could control the production of heat emanating from her body so could she contain the powder keg of emotions surging just under the surface of her well tempered countenance. This was practically unheard of among her people. They were a warlike race. Their organization was that of a military aristocracy, they lorded it over the subject populations on whom they lived by tribute or pillage. They were mercenary warriors who fought for pay and for the love of warfare. Under their rule on the Material Plane the common population would have became reduced almost to nothing so it was a great relief to many when the human elementals were abducted by the Efreeti and returned to the Elemental Plane of Fire. She longinly gazed out the window upon the sunrise once more before settling back in her seat to mentally prepare along her journey from Waterdeep to Silverymoon. She wondered just how long it had been since she last come this way. It was as if she were going back in time. She pulled her cloak tighter around her form trying to conceal her brazen appearance as she moved closer toward her appointment with destiny.
Luren, High Demilich Lord 08-21-04, 06:44 AM	His eye flashed, and he turned around. In his room, seemingly his main chamber, there were stone figurines lining the walls. They changed in form at a mental thought to the shape of whoever the Shade lord thought of. Currently they were featureless, and that is how they would stay. He turned back to his small alcove, semingly he was writing. After a few minutes, he turned around, and pointed to three of the figures. One turned into a perfect form of Keya, breathing, moving, a perfect copy if it was not made of stone. The other two transformed, one into a large winged demon, the other into a lich-like creature. The winged demon darted at what was meant to be Keya, and spun around, its tail raised and aiming at Keyas head. The figure of Keya darted away, and with a mere gesture caused the demon to shatter. The lich attempted a spell, but with another mere gesture, the spell was reflected on the lich. The lich shattered, and the shade slammed his fist on the table in anger. "This will be harder than I thought..." He gestured to the last standing golem, and it froze. Its features melted away and it stood back against the wall. "If you want something done right, you must do it yourself." The room darkened as many more simulations bega to occur, to all a degree of cursing and anger. Finally, even several hours later, a triumphant hiss was heard...
Keya Moonstar 08-21-04, 09:36 AM	She raised an eyebrow at the gathering crowd around her, unknowingly imitating Aravilar's trademark gesture, as she surveyed the town square with her lightly tinted eyes. Shouts of "Milady!" and whispers of "She's an angel!" spread like wildfire around the town of Deepingdale and within a matter of minutes, even before the sun had fallen below the rolling horizon, Keya had been surrounded by nearly a thousand Dalesfolk, all hoping for a glimpse of this "angel" they had been hearing about. She tried to push through the crowd, but it seemed the townspeople were more interested in gawking at her near-perfect form than in letting her continue on towards the runied city of her birth. She cried out, "Please, let me pass!" To her great displeasure, the sound of her voice seemed to cause the crowd to become even more exciteable. After several more failed attempts at calming the crowd, she called in a fit of rage, "Move or I'll have you all banished to the Abyss, damn you!" That final epithet caused the entire thousand villagers to grow very quiet, and one man called out, "Run!" A split-second later, there was a stampede of Dalesfolk, all rushing to get to their homes or out of Deepingdale entirely. Keya grinned her mischevious grin and said to herself, "If Aravilar were here to see that..." The smiling celestial continued to grin uncontrollably as she shook her head and continued walking north towards the forest of Cormanthyr.
aravilar_holistacia 08-21-04, 10:00 AM	Originally posted by Lord Tarran "My lords, news from Sylune. Strange shadow creatures attack the edges of the Vale. By her calculations, they should arrive in the city before tonight's nightfall. She also..." All 8ft, 450 pounds of Drazar collapses completely, as he drops into unconciousness. Aravilar swore loudly, kneeling to tend to the fallen draconic. "Send for a healer," he commanded, and two members of the spellguard saluted and ran from the guildhall. The half-dragon didn't look too badly hurt, but certainly he was exhausted from the journey to Silverymoon, and the high mage cast a short spell, sending for Syluné. When Aravilar found no consciousness at the end of his spell, he swore again. "She's not responding," he said aloud, more to confirm the fact to himself than anything else. "Lord Kistil," Aravilar said breathlessly, "post your spellguards on the walls. We are under attack." As if to punctuate this sentence, a massive line of fireballs collided with Silverymoon's mythal, sending sonic explosions through the entire valley that Silverymoon lay in. The Mythal crackled loudly and retaliated on its own, firing crystalline bolts of raw magic into the unseen enemies that had attacked earlier. From inside the guildhall, Aravilar could hear the roars of their assailants. The high mage stood and rushed to the door, moving his fingers rapidly in spellcasting, and he threw the door open, running onto the stone-paved streets of Silverymoon. "Come, Kistil, to the Startower!" Aravilar looked to the tallest tower of Silverymoon, appropriately named the Startower for its black granite stone that was studded with quartz and other minerals. From the Startower, Aravilar would be able to aid the Mythal in repelling their attackers.
Luren, High Demilich Lord 08-21-04, 10:46 AM	A lithe elf busted through the doors to Sabbolas chamber, and he turned around. "Has the latest incursion begun?" "It has, master. Silverymoon is under attack, and the mythal is their last real vestige of defense. Collapse it, and we can drive them out." Sabbola nodded, and got to his feet. He turned, and swiftly floated from the room, the elf in tail. The eight spires of the castle were pulsating with a dark energy, and a vortex was forming in the middle. Sabbola gased up to it, and waited. ... Meanwhile, at Silverymoon, a sphere of darkness was manifesting in the air. A giant spear of... nothingness, shot out of it, and was drawn back in, causing great ripples of darkness to come out of it. With a large explosion, the fabric of the planes came apart, and tore a hole directly to the underdark. This porta was unstable, however, fluxuating between the location in which a mass of Sabbolas forces were, and the planes of the Abyss. The seige of silverymoon continued. ... "Today, we fight, to conquer Silverymoon and draw the elves back!" With that, Sabbola extended two long tendrils of blackness to the portal. They grasped around the edges, and he flung himself through it. He was closely followed by several Shadow Adepts, and a swarm or flying creatures. With that, the portal closed. ... Sabbola was flung from the portal, followed by four of his six adepts, and less than half of his small squadron. He cursed loudly, as the portal shut, sealing them in whatever plane they had mistakenly been sent to. He turned back, gazing at Silverymoon, and halted where he was. Floating on the darkness, he brought his hands back to summon a large influx of mana. He threw it forward, it rolling like a tsunami towards the Mythal, breaking through it, leaving a tunnel, that began to close. In the blink of an eye, Sabbola was inside, lurking in one of the shadows of the startower. He stepped back, and gazed at the tower for a split second, marvelling at its architecture. It was, almost a pity he had to destroy it. Almost. With that, his form changed. It grew smaller, and changed in form to a small ball. The ball grew, and a vortex grew around it. It began to suck in light, objects, air, stray animals and people... And then, it stirred. It rocketed forth, and slammed into the Startower. After a few seconds, it burst out the other side, no debris, no rubble, just a clean hole where matter used to be. It banked a hard right, and came around to slam into the tower again, blowing another hole through it. The ball turned upwards, going towards the top of tower, and hovering over it. It flew downwards, directly through the tower, cracking it into four quarters. The four quarters held together, barely, and the ball began to focus on enlarging the vortex it had already. After a great exertion, and physical strain, the tower shook, and began to collapse on itself. In the place where the Startower once was, there was merely ground. Air began to flood back into it, light, and Sabbola slunk away, letting his forces pound more on Silverymoon.
Lord Tarran 08-21-04, 11:16 AM	((Ava, cleric is only half right. You'll see.)) Drazar lay on stone floor, his body enjoying the coolness compared to the fires he had run from. He felt positive energy begin to course into him, though he fought to stay asleep. He was dreaming, and it was a pleasant dream. A city lay below him, his great dream wings beating to keep him in the air. Looking down, he could see the spell bubble that identified the city as Silverymoon. It glowed, like some angelic thing, in its own light. Suddenly, a shadow exploded from over the mountains, sweeping over the forest, surrounding the bubble in a sea of darkness. Slowly, it began to attack, trying to break through the shield. Drazar now found himself, however, no longer in the sky above Silverymoon, but in the great golden halls of his great grandfather. The giver of Drazar's powers, Bahamut was curled like a great cat, fast asleep. Walking over to the great platinum dragon, Drazar puts his hand on the god's skull plate, whispering in the Draconic, "What am I do to, grandfather? My body has had enough, and I need rest. But Silverymoon needs my help." "Grandfather can't help you, son," a voice like Drazar's rumbles. From behind a column, a great bronze wyrm steps. "He's been asleep since the Mystra's Chosen disappeared. In hopes to help Mystra, he sacrificed his conciousness to her, until it was dire that he go to the battle field. In doing this, only his high priests, the Sacred Warders, and you are spared from losing their powers." Drazar began to protest, as his father gave him a patronizing stare. "Don't deny it. You've already observed that you are, even if Grandfather hasn't said it aloud yet." The grreat dragon pauses, as he nudges a large treasure chest towards his son. "Within this chest are three things. All three you will need, and Bahamut thought you needed. One is your wings. You can retract them completely though, unlike my kind. The next is a platinum holy symbol. I'm not sure what it does, but wear it none the less. The final thing, or perhaps things, are new gauntlets, and fang covers. They will meld into you once you wear them, but they will grow with you. Now begone my son, Silverymoon needs your help." With that, Drazar finds himself suddenly awakening. The human healers stand up above him, as he stands, finding his body restored beyond even his own skill. Checking over his body, he finds that his father's gifts were in place, even though his wings were not visible. He hears the mythal attacking, as he heard Avarilar roar for the star tower, Draz takes to the air, his newly beating wings knowing what to do, as he went out the guild hall doors, towards the star tower top. He will arrive shortly after Aravilar.
aravilar_holistacia 08-21-04, 11:36 AM	The high mage called out the string of mystic syllables in a clear, loud voice, but in mid-incantation he was cut across the cheek with a shard of black glass, and he shook his head. Blood ran freely from the wound, and Aravilar didn't bother tending to it--there were more important matters to attend to, and the umbral blot that was pulsating around the Startower was no exception. Aravilar ran as fast as he possibly could towards the wizards' tower, but not even the celerity given to him by the Mythal could move him fast enough to save the black granite monolith. "Damn it all!" he cursed, watching as the tower was quartered and ripped into pieces, then as if it were never there, the tower phased from reality. The skies went quiet and the Mythal stopped humming its spellsong. Aravilar looked up at the shimmering field of magic, watching for any hints of spell assault, but it seemed the barrage of fire had ended just as swiftly as it had begun. No spell in Aravilar's repertoire could determine where the Startower had been moved to--all he could glean from the meager spell effects left in the area were small glows of minor enchantments and a few motes of wrecked spell components, strewn about in the chaos. The tower was truly gone.
Saerynishar 08-21-04, 11:39 AM	He wasn't going to make it to the collapsing tower, for he did not dare risk a teleportation spell while encompassed by a spellweb of this complexity. Even if he could have made it, his magic wasn't going to keep it from collapsing; best now to assess the situation, note the enemies, and deal with them as they came. Having made his decision, Saerynishar began to radiate ebon fire, his spellmantle flaring to life. Zombies, he could deal with. Even as they reached towards him, their limbs ceased to be. Roiling energies peeled away from his body and struck at the festering undead; ashes in his wake as he moved towards a being composed of purest shadow. "You there!" It turned to him, massive body drawing in all light. Crimson eyes met his silver ones, and neither flinched. "Begone." with that he released the latent power of the mantle, a searing coruscant of blue-grey fire. It lashed out at the shade, rendering it but a memory... along with a major portion of the street. To the tower, then? Inner monologue suddenly a dialogue, a decision in the making. The tower had fallen, of course. He had percieved it, and the amount of energy it had taken... obviously. It didn't matter who it was, just that it had been done. That was the place to be. And like a bolt of midnight, he crossed Silverymoon and floated high over what was once the Startower.
aravilar_holistacia 08-21-04, 12:08 PM	Originally posted by Saerynishar And like a bolt of midnight, he crossed Silverymoon and floated high over what was once the Startower. For all the good high magic did him, Aravilar had to physically restrain himself from casting it. Lessons learned from the incident in which Elminster himself had been thrown into the Hells by a dimensional rift, created by the interaction of shadow and normal magic, proved to be more helpful than any barrage of spells could be. The high mage bit his tongue deeply, keeping himself from casting even a cantrip. Aravilar wasn't ready to learn the effects of a dimensional rift opening inside a mythal. He didn't want to know the effects. "You there," he said, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and from his sliced cheek. "Shadow mage. Identify yourself." The words sounded idiotic in Aravilar's ears. He felt helpless to stop whatever storm of umbral spells the other could send towards him; not even he could be so blind as to ignore the effects of shadow mixing with light.
Lord Tarran 08-21-04, 12:12 PM	Draz reached where the tower had been at the same moment that Saerynishar did. As both floated in the air, Draz mad sure that his holy symbol was visible, to avoid being attack. Seeing several creatures come into the air, the half blue dragon let loose his breath, sending several creatures to thier doom. Still keeping aloft with his new wings, Drazar yells, "Who are you? I have little trust right now. Are you with the city, or against it? Speak quickly, before one of these beasts ends one of us." He lets his breath loose again, stoping several creatures, before dropping heavenly flame upon those on the ground far below.
Saerynishar 08-21-04, 12:22 PM	"Normally that sort of request works better with a token of good will, like a name, elf." Even as he spoke, his mind was alive with a thousand possibilities. Mage of some sort, that much was obvious. Not of his weave, though... this was relevant, because the magic that had done away with the tower had been shadow. Of course. The wizard thought is had been he that had vanished the tower. "Then again, you don't have good will, and so any token would be false. My name is Saerynishar, and we'll talk after we deal with these things, how's that?" He turned to the half dragon, analyzing things from basic posture to the holy symbol, then nodding, satisfied. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." Bolts of crimson and black fire rained down on the surging groups of creatures, the will of an archmage made manifest on his foes. "I will, at the least, have your names."
aravilar_holistacia 08-21-04, 12:40 PM	Aravilar smiled a venom-laden grin that could only be born of great interest and newfound respect. This shadow mage acted like the most acidic Gold Aravilar had ever met, and yet he was as far from a sun elf as possible. Certainly this man was no fool, and he had both the willpower and firepower to prove it. The high mage let his nimbus of pale blue light subside and lowered his casting hand. "I am Aravilar Holistacia, a..." Aravilar trailed off slightly. Why not? "A high mage of the Court," he finished. No use in hiding that fact any longer, he mused to himself. To the half-dragon, Aravilar called out, "Our shadowy friend here seems to be more benevolent than his Art would like us to think, Drazar. Let's hear what he has to say."
Saerynishar 08-21-04, 01:03 PM	"Ah, a high mage. Your brethren did well in Evereska." He spoke the words as if they were common knowledge, then turned and tore another shade from it's aerial perch on a distant building. After a long moment, his mantle dimmed, causing the immediate vicinity to brighten considerably. His own powers were slightly dampened here. Assumably this was due to the mythal; it was of a different weave, and made casting difficult. All told, this was the best possible scenario. Here, in the city, the two could have easily slain him. "Outside, I was asked for my reason for being here. I will elucidate just a bit- I am here because this is the only place I can be. My presence here is a result of a barely finite number of things; my existence is determined but my will a different case," there was a long pause as he realized that this wasn't the information they wanted, "I am here to preserve my life."
aravilar_holistacia 08-21-04, 01:23 PM	Originally posted by Saerynishar "I am here to preserve my life." "Always a noble reason," Aravilar said dryly. "I trust you'll understand our skepticism." But Aravilar knew, from the tone of the shadow mage's voice, and from his choice of words, that there was something about him even the shadow mage himself didn't understand. And that, Aravilar thought to himself, was enigmatic enough without having to ask. "I should thank you for your help here," the high mage added. "I wouldn't have expected your aid, but it is welcome."
Legions of the Unknown 08-21-04, 02:06 PM	Watching silverymoons glistening splendor Gilithian watchs as the first signs of battle sound across the crags and rifts along the great Spine of the World. He liveing with Silverymoon as hub to his existance watchs as the mythal falls and thenas a few forms float into the air 1 on wings the other on something unseen. at the mythals doom Gilithian makes with all speed on his single horned mount to the great silver city more to the point to the other side out of the mythals lingering afects. as he aproches Gilithian thinking it faster to go through the city to the other side he swerves his unicorn mount into the city using it as a becon of his alignment as an ally. Gilithian rideing through the panicked city finds Aravilar and a shadow mage at the mythals previous location jumping from his mount Gilithian draws both his swords and a speed on 1 other legendary fighter can match and "Shadow mage, what is your purpose in this city of light? Speak quickly! I've not the time to ask again. Aravilar... what is going on here? Who are our assailants?"
Saerynishar 08-21-04, 02:13 PM	“Every reason need not be noble, if the result is that which you desire,” Saerynishar responded, “And skepticism implies lack of understanding, which I am quite fine with.” Strange sort, these. Thanking and condemning simultaneously. Very interesting, each a paradox. Reactionary and dynamic, yet both somehow static in the world. Both would live far longer than a typical human, outliving their friends and family... they had not yet learned that to make those bonds was to invite more pain. “Your thanks are not needed, as my actions were not derived from desire to gain them. The two of you were quite capable of dealing with this threat-,” Pause. Flash, once more. Mage, aerial. Casting. Wilting, drawn from the shadow weave. The words of his previous sentence trailed into an incantation, countering and reversing the spell, drying the water in the distant adept’s body. Lost in focus, he failed to notice the humanoid shadow coalesce and creep up behind him.
Zollex 08-21-04, 02:48 PM	"Get the spellguards to the walls!" Kistil yelled to the nearest guard. "Get the Knights of Silver to the walls and gates!" A young page ran up to Kistil carrying a cloak, belt, and sword, among other things. The elf threw off his cloak to replace it with the more beaten-up, greyish one the page carried, then put on the potion belt and a bandoleer, then took a scroll organizer and a pouch full of wands. "Now go get to safety, child," Kistil ordered. The boy nodded and ran off. Kistil looked up to the pair of flying figures and said, "I'm Kistil Calagen, the lord mage of Silverymoon. Now that we've all met eachother, perhaps we should help the efforts to defend Silverymoon. Without the mythal, the only things defending this city are the knights, the spellguards, and us."
Luren, High Demilich Lord 08-21-04, 02:59 PM	Originally posted by Saerynishar Lost in focus, he failed to notice the humanoid shadow coalesce and creep up behind him. Strolling through the wastes around his castle, Sabbola suddenly becomes aware of a minion still in Silverymoon. He focuses, and in a thought they have switched places. Sabbola brings up a hand, it hardening into a black spike, and he places it just under the tip of Saerynishars skull. With a quick burst of force, he slams it into the constructs "head", and melts away into quickly fading dark tendrils.
Saerynishar 08-21-04, 03:06 PM	There was a hot explosion on the back of his head, activating a contingency that sent blackened fires dancing about his body, sizzling at that which had struck him even as his knees buckled beneath him. Saerynishar collapsed, mumbling something about waiting thirty seconds before touching him as he fell unconscious. The fires still limned his prone form, but slowly died down over the next half minute.
Legions of the Unknown 08-21-04, 05:09 PM	Gilithian rides with all speed, armor and his mounts barding now flareing in a white aura, out of Silverymoons west gate faster than anything can see letalone attack He gets a half a mile down the road and dismisses the aura turning his mount to flank the enemy that is presenting itself and prepares to draw some fire away from the Silver City. as he nears his foes he stings his bow in a tree and begins takeing steathy precautions as he nearshe lets out a low growl and begins a barrage and for each arrow taken from his enchanted quiver it is replaced with 1 as equally enchanted and equally as powerful as his barage continues he moves about where it looks as if there are a hundred arches instead of 1 lone elf. His ememys gain a semblence and send a group to look for him he goes back to his mount and rides back for the northern side of silverymoon... he has done as much as he can out here and now he would best help on the walls with the spellguards and Aravilar as he nears the city he resumes his aura of light
Lord Tarran 08-22-04, 12:43 AM
Lord Tarran 08-22-04, 01:02 AM	Drazar did not wait to lift up Saerynishar, taking the much smaller man in his arms, even as the fire burned him slightly. Taking to the air, Drazar flew his fastest back to the guild hall, placing the man in the same healer's care as he had been in. Having enough of not seeing combat, he reports to Kistil. "My lord, I can rebuild a shield around this building. I will need, however, 10 minutes uninterrupted. After that, I can guarantee our safety in this stronghold indefinitely, with the help of a few saphires." Assuming, possibly to much so, that the lord of the city would agree to the guarding of the last stronghold, Drazar went to the center of the hall, where he had originally fallen. Sitting crosslegged, the dragon draws his wings completely into his back, out of sight, as he drew a circle around himself with a razor sharp claw. Pressing his hands together, he appears to be praying with his eyes open, as they go from his ancestral yellow cat eye, to glowing blue. His body, having been caked with dirt, suddenly becomes clean, shining, as his armor, covered with insignia of Bahamut, glows again, mud blasted off. His scales crackle with energy, as the same blue magic seen in his eyes jumps from his horn, to his subhorn, in a constant arc. Faster and faster the bolt jumps. Soon it becomes nothing but a blinding blue light, as waves pass from the horn, and down Drazar's body, across the floor, stopping at the circle. The circle begins to glow, as does the floor beneath the half blue, as he takes his hands apart. Between his hands is the same energy, glowing blueness, as he places his hands just next to the circle, palms up. The arc travels over him, creating a small dome of blue light over him. The arc on his horn, and the arc above get brighter, as they seek to join one another. As if to answer their wishes, Drazar turns his head up, expelling another blast of blinding lightning, joining the arcs. The arcs in his hands jump to the floor, joining with the circle. With his free hands, he brings them together again, now joined into a great fist. Lifting it above his head, the light around him grows brighter, as he slams the floor. With a dull roar, the dome expands, passing through walls, even people, as it contains the building. Hedging out the shadow creatures, the beasts will find they can't bust it down. Drazar is now standing, facing the glowing blue floor circle, as it maintains the security of the building. Reaching into his armor, he takes out his old holy symbol, the one of gold. Crushing it in his hands, he soon finds within it what he had been looking for. A perfect blue sapphire, glowing in its own eminence. Dropping it onto the circle, Drazar watched as it centered itself inside. Cracking his knuckles, the ward complete, Drazar sits on the stone steps of the building, looking out at his shield, and the creatures beyond it. He is tired, his eyes and scales somewhat dulled by this. He sighs somewhat, as he suddenly remembers something, which brings him alive and to his feet. "Did I just leave Aravilar outside?"
Zollex 08-22-04, 03:59 AM	OOC: Ava, Kistil is a sorcerer, not a wizard, silly. :P IC: Kistil felt the potent magical shield as it passed through him. "We can pass through the shield freely, correct?" the wild elf asked with a slight quiver in his voice. "This thing will be a deathtrap rather than a defense if we can't." Not waiting for an answer, Kistil drew a wand from the pouch on his belt, then cast a quck spell on himself. He exchanged the wand for another, this one slightly scorched at the end. He passed the wand over to his left hand and drew his sword. "I'd rather die out there with my troops than allow them to die thinking their commander left them. Can I pass through the shield?"
Legions of the Unknown 08-22-04, 04:43 AM	Gilithian comes to the citys northern gate and begins a frantic search for Aravilar as he is doing this he senses great magic from the Guild hall it is a protective spell he knows so he contiues his hunt and kills any feindish creatues that presnt themselves with his deadly, amazeing, and awe inspireing Dervish Dance with twin wildly glowing scimitars that seem to cut through anything they touch and cast spells as Gilithian does. OOC Ava we need a post from the leader at least i do hehehe.
Malcoren 08-22-04, 06:55 AM	The Silver Knife The eternal, silver sky is reflected in his equally reflective hair. Behind him stretches an infinite expanse, shining like all the polished silver in the world. It shines with its own light, for here there are no worlds or stars or anything else found between terrestrial horizons. The glow shines off both the little man's tangled mop of hair and the irises of his eyes. He does not notice the glare anymore. He barely even notices the motes of darkness that float within it. For now, he is too intent on what floats before him. To eyes unaccustomed to this realm, it is but a speck, a mote of dust floating in an infinite brilliant space. But to eyes that have seen many worlds, it is no speck of refuse beneath notice. It is, indeed, exactly what he has been looking for. He reaches for it with eager hands, both deft and thin, and runs his grey fingers around it in complex motions. Zall looks down and grins. His smile is partly from success and partly from rememberance. His teacher once said "Here, every enemy is down." That adage has not changed, as floating among the argent void, one's perceptions were one's only limitations. And now he had overcome them. "This place must be very difficult to find if you don't know what you're looking for." Zall whispers to himself. It's a habit he has acquired from traveling alone for so long. Indeed, it is the only sound he ever makes. "Why, it's almost as if someone tried to hide this place from the outside!" He continues motioning, without any knowledge of what he does. He is working now on intuition alone, the motions coming to him from somewhere else. He reaches down to his belt, blue as midnight, and pulls forth what appears to be a large metal ring. It clanks faintly from the tiny pieces of metal hanging from it. Taking one, smooth and unmarked, he holds it in place next to the mote floating before him. He continues to gesure, but from the frown on his angular face, it is obvious he is frustrated by the speck. An image flashes in his mind, a giant wall made of glowing shapes--runes floating in empty blackness. Behind it is another wall, its glyphs a parody of the first, made of symbols that absorb the light of the first, shedding a reverse radiance that fools the eye. Zall smiles now, his frustration forgotten. A wall. He has found a wall. And to one who has made it is life to go over, around, or through walls of all kinds, he realizes that it, too, must have a weakness despite its obvious purpose of keeping people out. Through memory, he recalls the image. As he does so, it forms again in his mind, as strong as the first time. He looks past the glowing wall to the one behind it, the wall of Shadow, and he beckons with his other hand. There is resistance at first, strong and cold, but it relents quickly. Something pushes from the other side and the runes relent, peeling toward Zall and dislocating their radiant brethren. A gap is formed, for the briefest of moments, a breach in the wall that keeps this place from being remembered. A moment is all Zall needs. Outside the vision, he touches the mote with the metal wedge and completes his gesture. The mote swells with darkness, energy sliding into the metal, it's flat surfaces running like liquid and taking on the shape of a slender key, a complex shape resembling moon and stars where the notches would be. Zall grins, his silvery eyes turning jet black. He laughs with glee. Rivulets of silver and sapphire pour upward from his hands, along his arms, enveloping his body even as the darkness spreads out to wrap him in its chilling embrace. His hair darkens, pulling itself tight against his scalp, as his ebony eyes seem to bubble and fracture beneath their surface, swelling almost out of his skull. His laughter changes from a sound of mirthful glee to an alien clicking sound as sharp talons extend from his fingertips and are pulled into the darkness emanating from the mote. Seconds later the silver void is empty once more. Only the radiance and the motes remained. All were the same, all alike, the only difference between them the faint sound of clicking laughter echoing through the empty expanse. --- --- --- --- --- OOC: Pardon me for a moment, Luren, but I need to 'borrow' your character enough to pull mine into the story. You're welcome to repost your version after mine if it is insufficient in which case I'll remove all these parts or the ones you request. If you have any thing you want me to change, name it, and I'll do so. Thanks. The Intruder The Shade Lord smiled, a rare occurence indeed. His plan was proceeding nicely, the dislocation of the mythal having disrupted the defenses of the city of Silverymoon. The technique was masterfully performed, preventing the usual magical holocaust that occurs when a mythal is destroyed by mundane means. He even enjoyed the body-swap that allowed an attack against one of the more powerful defenders, the shadow construct Saeryndinar. It was worth even the sacrificial disruption of the translocated shade to throw their foes plans into disarray. And yet... there was something else, something tickling the back of his mind. Almost an itching, as of something important that was recently forgotten. For a moment he concentrated before discovering the source of the disturbance. It was the Shadow Weave! The rituals at his fortress disrupted its effects slightly, pulling forth its tainted arcane power to achieve his goals. It was a faint ripple in these energies that tickled his mind and aroused his curiosity. Pausing for a moment, he turned inward, become aware of the Weaves about him. Something was bypassing the Weave from outside, something tugging at the shadow weave like a child pulling on the frayed string of a sweater. The effect was not causing much disruption now, but if it continued, the entire arcane tapestry he had woven could be torn apart! Relaxing, he continued inward, achieving visions that his probing mind sought. Images flashed before him, images not unlike those seen by a certain being worlds away, except in these visions, only the viewpoint was different. He saw a short, lithe shape reaching out toward a wall of glowing script, past it toward the shadowy distorted reflection behind it... the Shadow Weave that encircled the Shade Lord's home! He focused at this intruder, mental sense taking in every detail as he realized the interloper was... "A gnome?!?!" He was taken aback for a moment at the mere thought of it, baffled at the concept, but on a whim he focused on the creature's heart, looking through its flesh at the soul beneath... ...and saw something there that could fit his purpose perfectly. It was then he noticed the blades strapped over its back and waist amd feels the presence of something dark. He smiles, a grin that reaches even to his physical form, and stretches his power toward the breach caused by the intruder. In moments he sees the creature twist from its mundane form into that of something as horrific as any in his own ranks. He touches it with his own darkness as it is pulled in, tainting it slightly with the Shadow that is part of its new heritage. And then it is gone, leaving no trace of its presence aside from a lingering echo of its laughter. The Shade Lord grins wider, knowing that the being from another dimension is most likely to appear in the place where a more recent dimensional breach occured. He was gratified to feel his dark nexus finding its center once more, power continuing to pour undisturbed from the Shadow Weave. Laughing faintly, a sound out of nightmares, he turns and focuses his world-spanning gaze once again on the place where the Startower had stood... OOC: At this point in time, technically, Zall is an unknowing pawn of the Shade Lord. I guess that means he should be put into the Cast of Chars as such. He'll find his approach to the 'bad guy' starting spot in due time. What happens after that is determined by what goes on and how the balance of players works out. Right now there's entirely too many 'good guy' types to make this fun.
Luren, High Demilich Lord 08-22-04, 09:29 AM	Originally posted by Malcoren [b]OOC: Pardon me for a moment, Luren, but I need to 'borrow' your character enough to pull mine into the story. You're welcome to repost your version after mine if it is insufficient in which case I'll remove all these parts or the ones you request. If you have any thing you want me to change, name it, and I'll do so. Thanks. OOC: No problem, i'll just continue from that point. "Now... Now that I have the Startower, I can use it as a weapon, but to do that, every weapon needs ammuniton." He extends his hand, a hole opening in one of the walls of his chambers. Outside, the remanents of the star tower and a large metal object that looks somewhat like a cell. The cell begins to float as tendrils surround it, lifting it to Sabbolas eye level. Sabbola walked forwards and large squares of rock flew upwards right below Sabbolas feet, the path constructing as he walked. A hole stretched in the cell, and Sabbola put his hand in. The machine instantly flared to life, and Sabbola pulled his hand out, the machine dying down. Sabbola walked away, the path and cell staying fixed perfectly where they were. He re-entered the chamber, and it sealed behind him, a small ripple going across its surface. He sat down, and a small book manifested in front of him. He began writing in it, and then he flipped forward many pages, and read for several minutes. He closed the book, and it evaporated. Sabbola stood up, and floated outside the castle, into a wide, open space. He brought his hands up, extended his claws, and they cut into the air, leaving a small rift. The fingers went round in a large circle, cutting out the material plane, and going directly to the shadow weave. A ball of red energy formed in his hands, and he pushed it into the weave. After a short while, he pulled it out and moved as quickly as he could to the cell. Halfway, the red orb exploded, and it blew Sabbola to the ground. He groaned as he got up, and with a gesture re-sealed the rift in the material plane. Slowly, his body reformed, and he floated back into his chamber. "The first attempt at opening a direct link to the Shadow weave without it being monitored was a failure, the secnd try will proceed later..."
WizO_Illusen 08-22-04, 03:35 PM	Originally posted by Keya Moonstar She raised an eyebrow at the gathering crowd around her, unknowingly imitating Aravilar's trademark gesture, as she surveyed the town square with her lightly tinted eyes. Shouts of "Milady!" and whispers of "She's an angel!" spread like wildfire around the town of Deepingdale and within a matter of minutes, even before the sun had fallen below the rolling horizon, Keya had been surrounded by nearly a thousand Dalesfolk, all hoping for a glimpse of this "angel" they had been hearing about. She tried to push through the crowd, but it seemed the townspeople were more interested in gawking at her near-perfect form than in letting her continue on towards the runied city of her birth. She cried out, "Please, let me pass!" To her great displeasure, the sound of her voice seemed to cause the crowd to become even more exciteable. After several more failed attempts at calming the crowd, she called in a fit of rage, "Move or I'll have you all banished to the Abyss, damn you!" That final epithet caused the entire thousand villagers to grow very quiet, and one man called out, "Run!" A split-second later, there was a stampede of Dalesfolk, all rushing to get to their homes or out of Deepingdale entirely. Keya grinned her mischevious grin and said to herself, "If Aravilar were here to see that..." The smiling celestial continued to grin uncontrollably as she shook her head and continued walking north towards the forest of Cormanthyr. The young raven-haired elf stood, huddled in her cloak of velvet as black as a night without a star, her eyes not leaving the bright creature, trying to make her way through the crowd. "Maien quel, Lirimaer..." she muttered under her breath. She froze for a moment, as the beautiful creature rose her voice and her threat silenced the crowd, sending them to their homes in a panic. Realising that there is nowhere for her to go to keep from being seen, she quickly ducks behind a vat of large red apples, pulling her elvencloak around her small narrow shoulders. Keya passes her, not noticing the huddled figure. Watching the passing being with hooded eyes, Linne resolves to follow her into Cormanthyr... [OOC: I suck at RP'ing. Bear with me, okay? :P ]
Legions of the Unknown 08-22-04, 05:13 PM	OOC: that was priity good u tied into the story line where no one i think would really go its the part of the story where there isnt as much action good pick ;) IC: Gilithian continues searching everywhere for Aravilar finally giveing up on that he attempts to find the lord mage so he can get directed where he is needed. Gilithian goes to the sheilding sphere around the Guild hall as he approches he is blocked by 3 lesser shades and casts 3 simultanious searing lights which are so powerful the shades instantly and completely destroyed. As he reaches the guild hall he attemts to move through the sheild Elsewhere Aramil Gilithian's unicorn mount is watching the battle progression as he was told to by his Chosen of Mielikki partner. The battle that started so bad for the people of light has turned and is now about even with the forces of night.
Lord Tarran 08-23-04, 12:40 AM	"Yes Kistil, you may move freely through the shield. I would suggest however, that instead of battling, you give me a moment, and we can rescue those men. Most are lost already, its the reason I put up the shield, but I did sense a few pockets of men in the small mythal bubbles. I don't suppose you have a few dragons in the city army do you?" Draz already knows the answer, having see the "mythal bubbles" for what they were. Sacred Warder shields. He needed to save those clerics, and their charges. The city could be saved. "Lord Kistil," Draz said as his wings unfurled. "I need you to cause a massive distraction. Those bubbles I talked about, their creators could help me ward the entire city. If they are as strong as I believe, they could even help us hedge out the invaders." Knowing it would take to long for the answer from Kistil, Draz takes to the air, flying towards the nearest bubble, next to where the Startower had been. Within it, Draz saw clearly several men, the center one, the obvious creator of the shield, a tall half bronze female. Her eyes looked through the blasted ceiling, as her charges fought through the shield at their opponents. The shadow beasts seemed to be unable to break it, as the dragon creator began to break under the strain of her opponents magic battering the shield. It appeared to Draz that her training was far from complete, and if he hoped to help, he had to act quick. His lightning breath led the way, sending many beasts reeling, as he slammed into the ground, wings gone, as more creatures lost their balance. The soldiers seemed to not know what to do, not expecting a half-blue to appear, especially one with the symbol of Bahamut. The bronze however, recognized Draz, at least for what he was, as she moved to allow him to enter the sphere of her protection. "Here to help, Warder?" She cried, "Cause now would be a great time!" "I can take control of the shield and move us back to the guidl hall. The humanoids can go there, but you and I need to help our kin!" "You Draz?" "Yeah... Merc?" "Mmmm. Lets move boys!" With that she moved from her place, as Draz stepped in, taking the shield into his hands. Slowly they crawled along, closer and closer to the hall.
Lord Tarran 08-23-04, 12:49 AM	"Yes Kistil, you may move freely through the shield. I would suggest however, that instead of battling, you give me a moment, and we can rescue those men. Most are lost already, its the reason I put up the shield, but I did sense a few pockets of men in the small mythal bubbles. I don't suppose you have a few dragons in the city army do you?" Draz already knows the answer, having see the "mythal bubbles" for what they were. Sacred Warder shields. He needed to save those clerics, and their charges. The city could be saved. "Lord Kistil," Draz said as his wings unfurled. "I need you to cause a massive distraction. Those bubbles I talked about, their creators could help me ward the entire city. If they are as strong as I believe, they could even help us hedge out the invaders." Knowing it would take to long for the answer from Kistil, Draz takes to the air, flying towards the nearest bubble, next to where the Startower had been. Within it, Draz saw clearly several men, the center one, the obvious creator of the shield, a tall half bronze female. Her eyes looked through the blasted ceiling, as her charges fought through the shield at their opponents. The shadow beasts seemed to be unable to break it, as the dragon creator began to break under the strain of her opponents magic battering the shield. It appeared to Draz that her training was far from complete, and if he hoped to help, he had to act quick. His lightning breath led the way, sending many beasts reeling, as he slammed into the ground, wings gone, as more creatures lost their balance. The soldiers seemed to not know what to do, not expecting a half-blue to appear, especially one with the symbol of Bahamut. The bronze however, recognized Draz, at least for what he was, as she moved to allow him to enter the sphere of her protection. "Here to help, Warder?" She cried, "Cause now would be a great time!" "I can take control of the shield and move us back to the guidl hall. The humanoids can go there, but you and I need to help our kin!" "You Draz?" "Yeah... Merc?" "Mmmm. Lets move boys!" With that she moved from her place, as Draz stepped in, taking the shield into his hands. Slowly they crawled along, closer and closer to the hall.
aravilar_holistacia 08-23-04, 01:00 AM	OOC: Well, I'm glad to see everyone's settled into the RP. :) And a warm welcome to our resident thread-haunting moderator, Illusen. :P In my next post, I'm going to advance the plot along by a few hours, so that we don't get too focused on one skirmish (and its aftermath). You're of course free to finish up what you've started, such as inter-character dialogues, but I'd ask that you act accordingly in regards to this post. Thanks. ;) -- He slammed his fist down on the table in frustration, earning him a series of glares from the others in the moderately-crowded inn. Aravilar scowled and returned his eyes to the piece of parchment that had been handed to him by a spellguard only a few moments earlier--there was a short message from Queen Amlaruil, whose high mages had detected the removal of the Startower from within Silverymoon's mythal. Only three hours had passed since the tower vanished from the city and already reports were coming in and accusations were being leveled. Damage control wasn't Aravilar's forté. He hastily wrote a return message on the reverse of the parchment: "Startower investigation forthcoming" was the reply. Whoever had destroyed--no, not destroyed, Aravilar thought to himself, more like stolen--the Startower must have been a potent Shadow Weave master, to bypass the Mythal's defenses, and wherever the Shadow Weave was propagated, evil soon followed. Evermeet would not tolerate this, right underneath Aravilar's nose, and the high mage knew the Queen must have been furious when she received the fateful news. "Kistil," the wizard said, activating a sending magic, "Gilithian, Drazar, please come to the Silverwater Inn. I have need of your counsel." The high mage thought for a moment, and added, "Saerynishar, you are welcome to join us." Aravilar didn't particularly care if the Weave-based magic would reach the shadow caster, but the Mythal would more than likely see to it that the spell was delivered. Aravilar ended the sending and looked up from his correspondence. Curiously, there was a fire-haired woman sitting at the table next to his that he had not noticed a mere moment ago. He narrowed his eyes in frustration, blaming his ignorance on his eternal fatigue. Such as it was with most of the High Mages, their corporeal shells of bodies made nigh-immortal with spell, but their psyches made wilted by the same magic that sustained them.
aravilar_holistacia 08-23-04, 01:08 AM	OOC: Now, if I remember correctly, the boards upgrade (the 24th until whenever they are done) is going to cause us to lose all the posts we make from the time they take the "snapshot" until the time they finish the upgrade. Although I'll certainly save all the posts made during that time, it would be a great help if you each saved a copy of your own posts made during the upgrade. The "snapshot" will reset the boards back to the exact state they were in at a specific time (the time the snapshot is taken). Just a public service announcement. ;)
Zollex 08-23-04, 01:27 AM	Kistil nodded to the half-dragon and activated the ability the wand had bestowed upon him. He rose through the air and did a quick check over the battlefield. On the wall to the right stood Olsuen Frostfeather, his lieutenant. Kistil floated down to the wall and pointed to a hill about 300 yards to the south. "I need an army to come over that hill." "Sir, are you out of your mind?" Olsuen asked. "No. I mean I want it to look like there's an army coming over that hill." Olsuen nodded and passed the order to the other spellguards on the wall. "Begin casting as I do," Kistil ordered. He muttered a few unintelligible words and moved his hands in a seemingly random fashion. Three hundred well-armed men came running over the hill. Many of the shadow troops turned to attack them, but when the two forces met, the men dissolved into nothingness. "Hopefully this will buy enough time." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Kistil recieved Aravilar's message and passed a few quick orders to his troops, then ran to the inn. "Yes, Aravilar? What do you need? The damage is great, and I'd like to be out there helping."
Lord Tarran 08-23-04, 01:29 AM	Drazar nodded, as he recieved the message from Aravilar. Taking a quick head count of his new charges, he cursed himself, before heading out the door with a nod to his new second in command, Mercury Yataha, a Sacred Warder of Bahamut, one of which was able to hold on to her powers. From what Kistil and Merc had told him, 40 of draconic blood, mostly half golds and coppers, a true brass, and a few of half silvers, had been employed by Silverymoon as soldiers and clerics. Of that 40, only 15 survived. But luck was there. Of that fifteen, all ten of the areas Sacred Warder's were among them. With their help, Draz had managed to reinforce the Mythal. Silverymoon would stay intact as long as at least on of the eleven of them remained alive. And considering that they could possibly be the most powerful force together in the city, Draz was not worried. Still, he was upset. Though Kistil's troops had managed to turn the tides, and hold the shadows just long enough for Draz to rescue the 15 dragons, and many troops with them. Kistil's troops, and the draconic reinforcements and their friends helped hold the shadows off just long enough for Aravilar to finish repairing the mythal, and Drazar and his team to reinforce, solidify, and create a true Sacred Ward, powered by each of them. But many had been lost, and much of the city was in shambles. Many innocents died, and Draz had little time for rest, healing those he could, ressurecting those beyond that, helping out his new compatriots, who Kistil placed under his care. Fixing up the building as a HQ and a hospital, setting the pecking order, sending the true brass with the last two remaining half silvers for reinforcements from the high temple, and to find more warders. Marrying the two half golds that weren't warders, and cleaning himself up. Drazar knew soon he would need sleep, but not, at the least, until the next sundown. He was still tired though. He leaves the Dragon's Nest as he called it, arriving shortly to see Aravilar.
Legions of the Unknown 08-23-04, 02:20 AM	Gilithian sitting next to Aramil in the hills north of Silverymoon takeing in the sight. Silverymoon was...was in shambles even if the draconic forces managed to make the sheild it still wasnt a fast enough fix to keep those innocents from death and Aramil's thoughts where the same. The first parts of Aravilar's message where sinking in and Gilithian imparted the message in full to Aramil with that the both got up and went easily to the city Gilithian called home, that was now half destroyed..... "Hello friend you called me to a meet...it is good to see you after loseing touch when this...shadow swept the lands of Faerūn..." "Kistil well met and well fought Drazar i beleive we havent been introduced but i beleive you are the one that organized the powerful clerical energys now enshouding us..." Gilithian pull a wounderfully crafted scimitar seeming to be crafted of ice and touches the floor behind him and from that spot a second later a bule velvet plush high-backed armchair is produced. the scimitar is already back in its scabard
Malcoren 08-23-04, 02:41 AM	OOC: It'd be so much easier to adapt to the timing, Aravilar, if everyone wasn't posting within 10 minutes of each other and then someone capping it off with a 'lets end the skirmish' before others can join in. ;) The "SNAPSHOT" is advantageous, as it will allow us to 'sort' the messages once more in chronological order. The shape moved across the building's wall, seemingly made from the very white stone on which it crawled. It moved low and fast, pressing it's cool body against the colder stone so as not to leave a discerning shadow even as it scuttled into the shade provided by another edifice. With eyes like faceted onyx, it regarded the scenes around it and the pure chaos that raged across sectors of the city of Silverymoon. If the shape had eyelids it would have blinked, shifting its vision through different spectrums to gather as much information as possible about this unknown city and this unknown world. The shape continued it's crawl, limbs reaching out with perfect precision, claws sinking into the tiniest cracks and flaws of the surface over which it moved. It kept to the shadows with great skill, taking the shadowed routes at every opportunity, even when doing so required it to go far out of its way to get to the destination it had in mind. None noticed its path, not even those with the most powerful of magics. Magic is no substitute for skill. While it can enhance it, it can not replace it. Had the creature been moving under a cloak of invisibility, had it been partially in this dimension and partially in another, it would have been immediately obvious to the spellslingers and demonic hosts that swirled above. This shape, however, used neither. It was completely here, but its chitonous hide and its great skill allowed it to move unseen in mundane ways that no spell could discern. However, it wasn't a spell of divination that swept over him, but an abjuration of great power. To its strange eyes, the wave of sapphire light seemed to swirl like oil on water, a massive swell not unlike a soap bubble spreading from a central point in the city outward toward the edges. Many of the shadowy creatures phased out instantly, banished back to the place whence they had came, and judging from the tingling under its plating, the odd creature was susceptible to the effect as well. It dropped as if stunned, yet landed swiftly and silently on its rear set of claws. Behind the corner of a greyish wall it crouched. Faint snapping and tearing sounds could be heard, as well as the strange clicking that was its native tongue. It would have went unnoticed, too, had not one of the city's defenders, a Shining Knight by the name of Aram Vail, seen the stone-like shape drop from the wall like a dislodged brick. Aram drew his shining longsword and checked to make sure his blue cloak--a gift from his fater--were ready. He braced himself, certain that the creature was another of the Shadow invaders. Rounding the corner, blade at the ready, he was taken aback by what he saw. A strange creature, half the height of man, with massive black compound eyes and chitonous plates as reflective as his own armor crouched low and hissed at him. Talons as long as his own fingers extruded from each claw and the air around it seemed to shimmer almost like a heat mirage. Despite its insectile appearance, it had a tangled mane of dirty black hair sprouting from the back of its buglike head. The creature continued to snap its mandibles in his direction while uttering that clicking sound that seemed its only method of communication. Under other circumstances, Aram might have considered this being. He might have noticed the tattered remnants of what might have been clothing, or the midnight blue leather straps laden with exceptionally thin knives. Perhaps he might even have tried to communicate with it. But not this day. Not after seeing his friends fall to shadows and spellcasters and demonic shapes more foul than this. Today he would take no chances with such an alien being, for clearly it could only be another one of the invaders laying siege to his home. Alas for Aram, he would not have another day after this one. Brandishing his blade, he charged at the creature, screaming "For Silverymoon!" at the top of his lungs. The creature jinked to the side with incredible speed, gesturing with one arm even as a sparkle of light left the other. For Aram, it was strange, as his perceptions seemed to slow, every detail of the fight burning itself inside his brain. He could see the pits and scrapes in the stone wall between the creature, he could see himself reflected a hundred times in its eyes, and he could even see the source of the sparkle, a thin dagger that seemed to hang in space off to his right. Unfortunately for Aram, the effect was only an illusion. The blade took him just under the gap beneath his helm on the right side of his neck. Puncturing a both a key artery and a vital nerve, it numbed that part of his body even as he could see its effects striking the ground beneath his feet. He would have slapped a hand to the wound, except that he was still in the middle of his charge. Rushing at the creature, he slashed with his shining blade right across where its neck would be. Had the creature not disappeared from the spot, it would have been a lethal blow. As it was, Aram's last moments were defined by twin blossoms of pain in his lower back. He sank to his knees, the name of his beloved city on his lips, as he faded from this world and his soul went on to visit its deity. Behind him the shape crouched, silver and blue streams pulling back from across its carapace and back into its claws. The talons retracted, the bare grey skin below was exposed, and within moments, Zall had returned to his natural state. Looking down at the blade, moving in utter silence, he hefted it. "Nice knife." Taking the blue cloak, which he had been careful not to damage in the fight, he wrapped it around himself, slashing at it in places with one of his sharper knives, and made it into a bit of robe. Pulling it tight about him with his grey hands, he cast about with his reflective eyes. Zall searched for something. Even he did not know what. Zall leaned back down for a moment, rifling the body of the man he had slain, pulling forth an amulet and a pouch of whatever currency this place used. Turning to leave, he followed the strange gut instinct that seemed to drive him toward an unseen goal. --- --- --- --- --- OOC: Borrowing him for a sec, Luren. Thanks! The Shade Lord smiled once more. Although his experimentation with the stolen mythal was unsucessful, he had nevertheless gained important knowledge as to its operation and capability. The next test would not be as much of a failure. Thinking for a moment, the Shade Lord sent forth probing tendrils of magic, searching for the intruder he had helped into this world. After a moment, he found it, and with eyes that were hedged out by the defensive ward, he was surprised to discover he could somehow, inexplicably, follow the intruder by watching through its own eyes. The Shade Lord witnessed the effortless dispatch of one of the city's more skilled defenders. He smiled at the capabilities of his new toy. For the moment he was content to watch, even as the twin blades sunk through the Knight's armor and into his kidneys. This creature was powerful indeed, and yet it had no purpose, no set goal to drive it. The Shade Lord would give it a goal. Reaching deep within himself, he followed the link, the trail of Shadow with which he had tainted the intruder earlier when it crossed into Faerun. This minion was somehow immune to the warding magics, an unknowing pawn that could achieve the Shade Lord's goals without drawing undo attention--assuming it didn't leave a trail of bodies. Indeed, the creature had seemed to have already chosen its allegiance after the Knight's mistake. Now it would hold a grudge against the same people that called the Shade Lord foe. He implanted something dark in the things mind, a thought that was willingly accepted, and his 'hound' set out upon its hunt. Now and then, whilst preparing his dark spells and experiementing in his arcane sanctuary, the Shade Lord checked in on the gnome named Zall. His pet was quite skilled in the arts of assassination, having slipped throughout various places in the city and efficiently dispatched various other lower-ranking members of the city's guard. When he sent it after one of the lower ranking draconic clerics that had become lost and searched for its brethren, he was impressed how the thrall moved with grace, evading the priest's breath weapon with little effort, appearing behind the creature and planting its blades in the creatures back just as it had done to the Silver Knight. If he risked his toy, however, it could be broken by those who did not want to play. Contemplating for the briefest of moments, the Shade Lord realized the greatest potential the creature could offer. He would not use it as an assassin, no, for eventually someone would catch on or find a way to hunt it. Instead, he would let it do what it did best. Travel unseen and take in all around it. He would not use it explicity to kill... ...he would use it to spy. --- ---- ---- ---- --- Zall continued onward, blades never staining from the blood they spilled, eyes never changing from their mirror-bright state. He had acquired much since arriving here, but he felt, deep inside, that something greater was to come. As it was, hours later, he found himself perched on the wall of an inn, blending perfectly with the wall around him, as he placed his ear against the wall and mumbled something indecipherable. Inside, one of the most powerful concentrations of magic walked the land, and Zall could feel his skin tingle even as it was pressed against the wall. OOC: Zall's Hide is incredible. However, true dragonkin would have no problem smelling something faintly unnatural, metallic and sharp, should they be in the area...
Lord Tarran 08-23-04, 02:51 AM	OOC: Thanks for the lead, man. Drazar enters the inn before the others, walking over to Aravilar with his pounding steps. Seeing that the mage was fighting off sleep, the half dragon pulls out a vial of brown liquid. Putting it in front of his mouth, a small beam of lighting passes through the liquid, making it hot. Drazar passes it to the High Mage. "Drink," he ordered. "Your mind needs to be here as well." He then leans against the wall, picking up the strage scent from the other side of the wall. He braces himself for an attack, but otherwise pretends to not notice.
Fiorentina 08-23-04, 04:50 AM	Fiorentina glances across her table toward Aravilar. Though his reputation precedes him, it was the first time she had actually seen him in person. She slowly rose from her seat, seemingly drifting over to his table so that she might introduce herself. Her deep black boots made the faintest of sizzling sounds with each step as she drew closer. "Greetings Aravilar." She stood before him shrouded in a deep crimson cloak. Tongues of flame licked out from the edges, coming from deep within, and she pulled it tighter about herself to keep them from escaping. "My name is Fiorentina." Her drink bubbled in its ceramic mug, steam rising up from it constantly as she spoke. The flames still licked gently out of the openings in her cloak, yet they did not produce enough heat to cause the High Mage any discomfort. "I have been aware of the empending danger here for quite some time for it seemed to be enevitable. I myself have borne the outrosities of defeat at the hands of a heartless and cruel adversary. I have witnessed the slow decay of a once mighty people. It is with deep regret that I have been forced to withold my hand from my own kind as they have already been overtaken if not utterly destroyed. I cannot bare to see this happen again nor grieve the loss of a great civilization knowing that I had done nothing to try to preserve it. Unfortunately it seems that I may have come too late but I wish to help if there is anything I can do."
Saerynishar 08-23-04, 04:58 AM	Saerynishar awoke unmarked a few minutes after being carried to the building, and wandered back into the streets. The vast majority of the battle had ended; there was no reason to further interfere. The incident with the shade was the product of carelessness... holed up in his tower for the past century, he had lost an edge. It wouldn't happen again. First goal would be to grow accustomed to the city. As he wandered almost aimlessly, fewer and fewer enemies were encountered. Those that stood before him were reduced to memories and dust, those that fled were forced to return, then flung against one another by the powers of his magic. Inky tendrils reaching from his roaring mantle, there was no question as to why the townsfolk fled. Benevolent. That had been the word used to describe him; it was perhaps accurate, but against these things, there was no measure of altruism. The seemingly random path was quite well planned, however, and by the time he recieved his invitation to the council, he had long since memorized the layout of the city. Fortuitously, the inn was close, and so, with a slight grin on his face, he wandered in and took a seat across the table from Aravilar. "The ability to kill things does not grant one an invitation to a council. If this were so, the inn would be more full than any of us could make fit," Saerynishar shrugged, not one to partake in things like eating or drinking, "As such, I am forced to hypothesize that you've some sort of plan already formulated, and either want my help smoothing it out, or executing it." There was a slight pause. "You carried me earlier, Drazar. Your aid was appreciated, even if I was not fully aware of it."
Malcoren 08-23-04, 05:29 AM	The stealthy gnome clung to the wall not unlike an insect. He used his abilities to enhance his hearing, pressing himself so close to the surface that he almost became one with the stone. It had taken but a short time to find a perch, one with a shadow draped across it perfectly so that the dark swath contrasted the shining stone of the wall. It would be uncomfortable for people below to focus on anything in that area, and most would assume it was empty as always. It's easy to hide where people do not think to look. Inside, Zall hears the people talking. There's quite the commotion, everyone speaking of the recent events with urgent voices. It is not until he hears the heavy footfalls, complete with faint scratching sounds that could only be talons, that he feels a twinge of worry. Zall had seen the blue dragonkin in action before, effortlessly zorching the flying shades from the sky. Judging from the increased tingling in his skin, the gnome would bet that the dragonkin... no, Drazar was its name, according to the recently-slain priest... was the source of the ward that had encompassed the city. Dragonkin had the annoying tendancy to use other senses than sight and hearing, as some inherited potent abilities of scent from their draconic ancestors. The spy clings to the wall, shifting his fingers slightly to find more comfortable cracks in which to rest. "This might take awhile..., he thinks. Listening close, he believes he can hear the intake of breath, the flaring nostrils and subtle chance in breathing. It can only mean one thing... the defender known as Drazar had caught a bit of his alien, not-quite-natural scent. Fortunately, a woman's voice interrupts his scenting. Zall listens to the woman and feels a faint twinge of kinship. It appears that she is not of this world as well, but that does not make her an ally. Indeed, her oath to save these people causes the gnome to frown. Still, it is not until the arrival of the Shadow construct that he is content that the blue dragonkin has relaxed enough not to start a commotion... yet. It is just as well, Zall doesn't wish to tangle with a dragon anyway, even a half-breed. Despite the fact that their breath weapons are almost pathetically easy to dodge, nearly everything else about them leads to an unpleasant fight. And fighting is not what he is here to do... so he doesn't. He merely continues to wait and listen. "Saerynishar. Aravilar. Drazar." The names brought amusement to the spy. "Three 'ar's. How ironic." He waited on what he dubbed the threeargh to discuss their plans. Far away, looking through Zall's eyes and ears, the Shade Lord did as well. OOC: Any time, Tarran. It helps to give little 'cues' to other people so they have ideas and places with which to connect their posts. Guess it's just the DM in me. ;)
Zollex 09-03-04, 08:05 PM	OOC: I think Tarran left the boards. Regardless, let's get this thing moving again. If there's one thing I've learned about RPs, it's not to depend on one person (whenever possible, of course) to keep the plot moving. IC: Kistil watched as Drazar tightened his muscules slightly. The wild elf set his hand near his sword, just in case. After a moment of waiting, Drazar noticed that Kistil was watching him. The half-dragon walked towards the elf, then pointed to the wall, drew a circle in the air, and clenched his fist as if crushing something. Kistil nodded, grabbed something out of a small pouch on his belt, and cast a spell. A few seconds later, a circular section of the wall about six feet in diameter turned to dust and fell away. Kistil drew his sword and cast a quick protection spell while the dust cleared.
aravilar_holistacia 09-04-04, 01:53 AM	OOC: Well, as some of you know, my computer has decided to crash at this most inopportune time. I'll be back once my new computer is delivered (hopefully on or around the 16th.) Until then, you're free to develop on the story, of course... I leave Saerynishar and Zollex in charge until I'm back. Have fun. Don't miss me too much. Aravilar
Malcoren 09-06-04, 07:03 AM	Fingers slid into the cracks of the cool, shadowed stone, the erstwhile spy strained to listen. He wanted to hear every word spoken, though he knew now why. He had no idea why this place should somehow draw him closer--all he knew is that he had to be here, for some reason he did not yet understand. He heard numerous greetings. He heard the footfalls and laughter and conversations in the background. Zall lay perfectly still and concentrated further. He heard something else then, something he recognized. He heard... the incantation of a spell. Upon the final syllable of the first spell, Zall felt a tingle on his spine. Climbing sideways like some sort of oversized spider, fingers scraped raw on the stone, he pulled himself back farther into the shadow. Not more than a span away, the stone of the wall briefly pulsed green and disappeared, it's component molecules magically pulled apart leaving nothing more than dust. "Hmmm... Not the dragonkin.." Zall thought. "This voice was different..." Unconsciously, one of the gnome's grey hands reached down and stroked the bandolier strapped across his torso. Each little nub of metal felt different under his thumb, each a different weapon for a particular task. Now was not his chosen time to fight. Right now, he needed a distraction. In only a couple of seconds, he found the one he needed. A jagged, rough cut stone that felt cold to his skin. Looking about, he searched the crowds around and off to the side. He heard the faintest of crunching sounds, almost below the awaresness of most races, and realized the spellcaster below was walking toward the opening, through the dust created by his spell. A second incantation filled the air, coming through the newly-made gap in the wall. The second spell had no obvious effect like the first, but the tingling continued, much fainter than before. Zall scaled his way across the wall almost as fast as a human could walk across the ground. Clutching what looked like a thin piece of crudely shaped flint, he glanced about for a distraction. Off to the side, a crowed was pushing it's way through the street, a rather corpulent and loud merchant or aristrocrat yelling for other poeple to get out of his way. The heavyset man was dressed in a vermillion robe etched with gold around the edges and walked with a well polished, gilded staff. The gnome smiled. "Perfect." Just like his aim. The wedge of blackish stone streaked through the air, leaping out from his shadow and unerringly flying toward his foe. It drove deep into the back of the "merchant's" calf, just above the ankle, through his robe and boot and into the soft flesh beneath. A split second later, just as the man screamed in agony and fell toward the ground, it exploded with a sound like shattering glass. The icy shrapnel slashed out at the surrounding crowd, slicing into clothing and exposed skin but doing little real damage. The red-robed man fell hard, squirming in agony, as he grabbed at his still-bleeding leg and attempted to staunch the flow of blood. The crowd around him erupted in screams of pain and fright, and soon the ripples of confusion spread outward, creating yet more surprise and chaos. Zall grinned, completing his climb, and positioned himself directly above the new opening. He reached, slowly this time, for the next dagger he intended to use. He didn't reach for the one's on his strap, however, but for one on his hip. An astute observer--one who could actually spot Zall in the first place--might notice the sheath was made of a dark grey stone, scribed with runes unknown on most of this world. "Come on out..," he thought, "...and meet my magic, wizard..." Assuming his foe spotted him over the distraction outside and managed to attempt an attack, he would do his special draw-and-throw. Hopefully it would not come to that, however, for the strange feeling deep in his gut gave him the impression that things weren't going according to plan... and fighting is not what he was here to do. OOC Info: A) Zall is 'readied' to respond to violence in like kind. He'd rather not fight, but if you need a distraction until Aravilar and Co. get back, Zollex, then it's on. Depending on whether or not Kistil heard reports of Aram Vail's death, he may or may not hold a grudge if he figures out what's going on. B) That was no 'merchant'. Kudos to anyone who knows why. ;) C) I know your character isn't a wizard, Vollex, but Zall doesn't. He'll find out eventually, I'm sure. ^_^
Gilithian O'Mar 09-06-04, 05:22 PM	OOC hate to see ava out of his thread like that but the show must go on :) IC *Gilithian gets out of his chair to inspect the hole in the wall when he hears the screams of people outside...he walks calmly outside for he is no healer quite the contrary...he is out by the crowd and castes a few minor healing spells on a few that see he is a wizard...he searches the area thoroughly and isnt searching for anyone but he looks for potencial hideing spots...he "tells" his swords to give him protection and find any evils in the area.* *Gilithian begins to glow with a faint white aura and a faint tingleing rushes out through the city* *he sences an evil that is near.....*
Zollex 09-06-04, 10:46 PM	Kistil followed Gilithian out the newly-created hole. Most of his spells had been spent protecting the City of Silver from the first threat. Now he would rely on his skill with a blade. Kistil mentally ordered his longsword to glow, and it illuminated the nearby shadows. The wild elf didn't spot anything, but he had a funny feeling about something. Something evil. "Order all exits of the city sealed. Nothing gets out, nothing gets in," he told a nearby spellguard. "Have the Knights of Silver watch the walls, too. The spellguards will sweep the city with divination spells. I think something got in." The spellguard saluted and sped off to give the orders. Drazar sniffed the air. "Sense any--" Kistil stared to ask, but the half-dragon raised his hand to stop the elf. Drazar listened for a moment, then looked up to the wall. Kistil watched the same place, but didn't see anything. Knowing Drazar's senses were much better than his, he assumed someone--or something--was up there. He drew a wand, this one bent in three places to look like a lightning bolt. "In the name of the Spellguard, surrender and you will not be harmed," he said. "Yet, anyway," he added under his breath.
Gilithian O'Mar 09-06-04, 11:12 PM	*Gilithian takes a double step to Kistils side, in which time he has both swords drawn and a spell of destructive properties in his mind his swords are similarly pointed at the spot on the wall though slightly to each side*
Malcoren 09-07-04, 05:15 AM	Zall tensed, flexing his fingers. Down below, the dragonkin named Drazar was attempting to sniff him out like a rat. Fortunately for the sneak, while half-dragons did possess more advanced scent than the common races, it was nothing compared to that of a true dragon or even a dog. The blue man-dragon was looking in his direction, but not directly at him. Once again the silver began to flow out from beneath Zall's fingers, slowly covering his hands and arms, the substance first reflecting things around it and then mimicking the stone beneath his hands as it slowly travelled up his arms. He saw the sorcerer below draw his blade and cause it to glow before ordering one of his troops on an errand. Zall only half paid attention... the being wanted to keep him from getting out, when creatures far greater couldn't keep him from getting in! Such irony! Below, Kistil drew his wand and readied it, shouting up to him "In the name of the Spellguard, surrender and you will not be harmed!" Zall heard this, and the mumbling that came after. He thought for a moment, contemplating his options, then broke into a sneering smile. Surrender? Yes... that would work perfectly... The silver that was flowing over him slowed to a crawl at his thought. He strained for a moment and reversed its flow. Slowly, then with ever increasing speed, it pulled back into his fingers and left him in his normal form. "No sense giving them too much of a fright..." he thought, "...let's see where this goes first. With a one-handed flourish of his blue cloak, Zall tucked in his legs and kicked off from the wall, tumbling in mid-air and landing a dozen feet behind the trio of heroes. He made no attempt at silence, hitting the ground with a soft thump. "Oh, you are quite the perceptive heroes..." The gnome speaks with a voice like a whisper. The most striking feature is his mirrored eyes and hair, though his greyish skin is not very common amongst his race. Wrapped around the end of one arm, wrapping around most of his body, a bright blue cloak that was obviously cut to fit seems to shroud him from sight. From under it, you catch a glimpse of his clothing--what remains of it--made of a deep grey material, darker than his skin, torn and ripped at the hems of his sleeves and pants legs. Strapped across his chest is a dark blue bandolier with numerous protruding hilts of small size and around his waist a belt of midnight blue with other articles tucked inside. The being bows low, pulling the cloak around him as he does so and nearly touching the ground with his chin, and yet his eyes never leave the three people before him. He smiles, flashing white teeth, and straightens, still moving the cloak in his odd way. "Tell me, is it customary in this land to obliterate walls rather than use the door?" His eyes quickly flick back and forth, taking in the sights behind the group and he continues to smile, a grin without humor or even a trace of warmth. He keeps his free hand behind them, fingers crooked in an odd fashion as he looks toward Kistil, obviously assuming him to be the leader here. The preceptive can even see a faint quicksilver-like liquid on the tips of his fingers... and to those who can feel the presence of evil, the feeling is only getting worse... OOC: OK, I'll play. Let's see how things turn out.
Gilithian O'Mar 09-07-04, 12:06 PM	*Gilithian moves his sword tips with the high flying gnome and when he lands Gilithian hears the mumbling* *he tightens his grip on his sword hilts feeling the evil pouring out of this small gnome* *gilithian takes a few steps forward to sparate himself from his companions* "tell me gnome what is that on your fingers and would you care to put that bandolier down" *Gilithian smiles slightly knowing that when things started to heat up for this gnome there were going to be some blows thrown or a chase* "I am Gilithian O'Mar might I ask what your name is?" *tightening his grip on his swords the whight aura grows slightly as more spells of protection (from missiles and spells alike) are piled onto Gilithian's slight frame* *he waits with every muscle tensed for any attack ready to block it with a movement*
aravilar_holistacia 09-08-04, 08:29 PM	OOC: I'm back... I'll get to posting IC as soon as I can. I'm busy rebuilding what I lost. -_-;
Bait the Bard 09-09-04, 07:19 AM	OOC - I think I seemed to have missed this thread, forgot to subscribe to it :embarrass well, I'd appreciate a run-don of whats gone on so far, because I really don't have the time to browse through 2 pages of extreme RP :) Sorry about the OOC post
Lord Tarran 11-26-04, 08:54 PM	((No matter what Ava said, I can not let this thread die.)) Drazar watches with interest as the gnome leaps down. A sparkle of curiousity passed over the half blue, seeing such a creature, with its interest armor and movements. But, as it was a threat, Drazar could not let it live. Knowing that like everyone else around him, the gnome had fallen into the predjudice that the half-dragon could not fly, and that he had no more lightning blasts coming, Draz leapt off the side of the inn, extending his wings rapidly, like a hawk pulling out of a dive, as he charged through the air towards the gnome. Letting loose another bolt of lightning, the Warder grabbed the gnome off the ledge, trying to have him fall to his doom far below. Back at the Dragon's Nest: Mercury's work was cut out for her. Drazar had put her as her second in command, as well as head of the patients that no one else could heal. The army of darkness that had come had brought a strange disease on those who had taken wounds from the flying shades. Though Merc and the warder's were quite compentent in healing this illness, it was unpleasant watching someone fade away suddenly. "What are we going to do about this?"
Fiorentina 12-06-04, 05:55 PM	OOC(I'm back to stay, will be in contact with Malcoren asap, trying to rebuild my loss as well Ava, and a belated Welcome Back! :mage: )