|04-22-2006, 10:36 PM||#1|
Join Date: Apr 2002
The red-haired pixie grins playfully as she returns to Virtue hall, carrying her usual variety of bags and pushing a wheelbarrow before her. 'Bag lady' they sometimes call her, but the name only makes her giggle. She zips through the door to the forge, the pass-through magic forcing her loyal doberman to remain outside, and unloads twenty heavy steel broadswords from her dimensional pocket, dumping them into the scrap steel bin with a clatter.
The pixie pays little attention to her costume as she fires up the forge. The lace-edged bodice, made by her clan-brother Bertrand, though it looks far different, now, than when he crafted it for her (restrung, of course), and the short blue skirt (also restrung), crafted by the, sometimes creepy, but handsome and attractive, neon haired pixie mage extraordinaire, Yorkin, are both stronger than they look and will not be harmed by mere forgefire and raw steel ore.
With a toss of her bright red hair, held firmly by a crystal tiara, Felicia exchanges the embroidered silk handkerchief in her hand for a pair of steel tongs and pulls a broadsword from the bin to smelt it down quickly. The raw ore produced isn't close to what she needs so she repeats the process until the ore is sufficient, then forms the steel into a dagger-like form, nodding slightly and taking up a hammer.
As she pounds, Felicia ponders why she makes weapons at all. She is high in the temple of Barbades, possibly the highest worshipper of all, aside from Duchess Raine, and is sworn not to kill the other residents of Naerlan. She takes the oath seriously, indeed, though she has failed, twice, in preserving the life of her opponent, a fact that torments her in idle moments of thought. She would have to answer to Barbades for her crimes, someday, but she knew he would be merciful. She was repentant, no matter what Tlenok had said. She had not meant to... She did not enjoy... She only went armed to protect herself and her allies and fr.. Crash! the hammer shatters the form and she ducks the flying ore, frowning at herself for losing her concentration so badly as she smelts down the pieces she can find and begins again.
"I make weapons so my friends can defend themselves... and for the Knights and Scouts that are allied with us, so they can protect all of Tharel in the manner they must," she tells herself, then nods, her eyes determined as she draws another broadsword from the scrap bin...
Come and see what else is happening in the world of Tharel!
tharel.net port 5005
IP Address: 188.8.131.52 port 5005
|06-03-2006, 05:37 PM||#2|
Join Date: Apr 2002
Elsewhere in Tharel, one subject of Felicia's thoughts was not idle: Tlenok.
And to all sayeth he "Bow down minions and worship your true Lord"
The hall was silent as none dared to move even the smallest of muscles.
The aura of power clearly evident about his being, his magnificence belittled his minions adding to the inconsequence of their existence.
Never did the words need to be uttered when they were, trouble was surely brewing for the land of Tharel and any who opposed the path.
With great temper and the surety only a being of power could possess, orders were given to the chambers' residents. Specific instructions to be relayed through the temple networks and carried to all reaches of the world were revealed.
The severity of the orders was not surprising to any of the entrusted few but many did wonder of the true meaning behind the actions of the many. However never knowing but needing to trust was the depth of their faith.
With ferocity of action and contempt for the masses, the dedicated methodically carried out their orders. With the joy of pain, the chosen tortured the souls of the innocent releasing them only to the servitude of the Abyss.
Screams echoed through the nights and days, bloody fingers caressed creamy white cheeks, and the suffering continued.
The halls which were once full with the devout, echoed with silence as the stained stone slab called out for innocence. The call was heard by one who was left, however one is all it takes.
Supple arm tendons restrained the heishan's wrists as effectively as they once allowed movement in the same appendages. Surgical slices ran the length of her legs. Her ankles were restrained in the same manner as her wrists. Her struggles had ceased many hours earlier as blood loss had weakened her constitution however she still breathed in ragged rough breaths. She knew her future, all who were blessed to pass through upon the slab knew their sacrifice and the nature of their future servitude.
Clarity of their situation seldom escaped their notice.
Gently with a careful and thoughtful movement, the lone drow waved his hand over the mouth of the heishan drawing forth her essence similar to one pulling a snake from a hole, its wispy existence threatened to escape his light touch until with a subtle finger twitch he sent it spiraling into the stone at the base of the slab between the heishan's lifeless feet.
Few in Tharel understood the significance of the stone. Few understood the balance of power and what their actions truly meant. A mark is not the only way to serve a God of Death and Destruction. The drow understood, he understood his place in Tharel and the place of others.
Someday, all would understand, that day is not today.
Come visit us and see what trouble is brewing in the world of Tharel.
|06-11-2006, 05:12 PM||#3|
Join Date: Apr 2002
Reading with horror the news article given to her by a friend, Felicia bites her lip, guiltily. She repaired a mace for an acquaintance, against her better judgement, and she sobs as she suspects that it may have been one of the weapons used...
Day of Righteousness, Toroid's Denial 10, 689
MASSACRE IN DELTHERIAN
Though many rumors of trouble from the Orc advance
near Deltherian have kept the city on edge and armed,
today, a more insidious and deadly attack nearly wiped
out the entire population of the town.
Rumor says the attack was sparked by racial hatreds and
epithets uttered over the mirror network. The response,
when it came, was far more deadly than the words that
sparked it. The town was overrun by a mob of drow, and
at least one troll, slaughtering civilized elves, most
of whom were innocent of any offensive speech. Women
and children were mowed down, as well as the soldiers
that attempted to protect them. Fires raged in the
streets, burning the bodies that had not been eaten or
sacrificed. Only the dampness of the forest and the
heavy rains kept the entire Deltherian wood from going
up as well.
Drow, and even trolls, have traditionally been allowed
to walk unhampered among the trees of Deltharian, the
soldiers marking their passing, of course, with
suspicion, but nothing of this magnitude was foreseen.
The population of Valeda is warned to keep a watchful
eye on the shadows, and already young men are stepping
up to volunteer, both to help rebuild Deltherian, and
to train to begin to take retribution on the drow.
Our readers will be kept abreast of developments as they
Lianwen Blitzer, field reporter
Who could she ask? Dare she confront the bearer of the mace? Felicia's eyes close, feeling the pain of all those deaths. She would have to ask him... She would ask him.
|06-16-2006, 02:14 PM||#4|
Join Date: Nov 2004
Elsewhere in Tharel, another one of Felicia's acquaintences was having a hard time.
In her coma-like sleep, Shadow Mistress Kaelan deSeramine, dreaming of events that happened approximately three months previous to her being struck ill. The memories are startling in their clarity, not at all hazy like most of her dreams.
In her dream she was sitting on the chaise lounge in the sanctum, the innermost chamber of the halls of Sophism, the elite force that she led in the name of the Goddess Jirah. Sidoc, her childhood friend and loyal servant, was sitting at the foot of the chaise when she came in and sat down, and smiled up at her in a disheartened fashion when she greeted him.
Kaelan was not used to being met by her primary advisor with anything less than cheerful enthusiasm, unless something heavy was on his mind. Frowning slowly, she asked, "What bothers you, Sidoc?"
Without any preamble Sidoc looked up at his Shadow Mistress with a slightly wounded expression, "The Lord of Earth punished Mistress Shanna for speaking out against him... he took from her her soul... when I objected and stood up for her, and the Temptress, I was treated the same... it was many hours until I found my soul again. The Temptress was nowhere to be seen." A frown began to spread across his face.
Kaelan sighed, "I am not surprised. I've been meditating on her absence a lot, lately, Sidoc... and I believe she's testing us." There were once times when Jirah, the Goddess of the Shadows, had frequently visited and rewarded her subjects. That time was not now. Perhaps the Shadow Temptress had her attentions elsewhere in the world.
Sounding bitter, Sidoc voiced, "I tire of these tests... if she will not guide us, who will? Have I not remained devoted to her during these last five years of her absence? Does this mean nothing?" His voice gradually crescendoed until he was speaking far too loudly for a soft conversation between him and his Mistress, "For how long must I devote myself to one who does not show care for us?"
Kaelan spoke softly, to counteract the loudness of Sidoc's voice. Tilting her head slightly to survey his eyes, she spoke, "She cares, Sidoc." The simple words were meant to be reassuring, but they only seemed to make Sidoc more angry.
"Does she?? Does she really??? Why must my devotion be questioned NOW after so many years of service!"
Kaelan smiled lightly, trying to divert the tension that was obviously building up in her friend, "I think you have it backward, Sidoc. It was our devotion that was questioned before, when she mothered us constantly. I think now she's let her children grow up, and she trusts us enough that she can focus her eyes elsewhere."
Yet, Sidoc wouldn't accept Kaelan's reassurances, which she continued to give while he questioned for the next fifteen minutes. Finally he shook his head and left to be alone, and she let him go, to go about her own errands...
... only to be informed by the twisting shadows in her chamber that Sidoc was waving his knife about his own stomach, threatening to 'prove his devotion' to the Temptress. Tracking him down, Shadow Mistress Kaelan gave him the most severe dressing down she had yet given him while he was in her service.
He could not forget that he was the servant, and the Temptress was the master, and she would not come simply because he called. She, his Mistress, would have to teach him some humility so that he would stop shaming her in front of the Temptress in this fashion.
Only a few months ago, she had told Sidoc what a selfish, insufferable child he was being. And now Kaelan was at Sidoc's mercy, in the grips of a deep sleep from which she couldn't find her way out, with Sidoc as her only guard. He was still wearing the collar Kaelan had made him put on to remind him of his place in the matriarchal society. The Gods of Tharel certainly had a sense of humor.
Share in these adventures at -
tharel.net port 5005
IP Address: 184.108.40.206 port 5005
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