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 Cruising through Reaver's Lane(Reavers vs. Fides/SO) 
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Stablehand

Joined: Wed Nov 06, 2002 10:07 pm
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The reverend had just waken up when he heard the trumpets
My sir, we have been summoned by Archangel to get ready for war at once, i have already begun mobilizing our armies and we should be ready to move out shortly after night fall
OK, I just have to go get a few skins of cactus juice and i'll meet up with you on the field

[center]------------------------------------------------------------------[/center]

the battles had begun when the reverend arrived and he started barking at his troops

Men, get ready for a very tough war. We have four targets tonight that we are to dispose of. May of you will die, but those who don't will get a very handsome reward.ATTACK
Sir, are you sure that is a good idea, four targets all bigger than us in one night? this will be suicide, mabey you should stop drinking
Nonsense, they will not present us with any challenges, we have darden, and drunkenness, on our side

[center]------------------------------------------------------------------[/center]

Battles raged on through the night. One by one, the heathen realms of the Reavers fell. By the time all was said and done, The Reverend had broken all four targets with little opposition

What did i tell you, i knew we would get them all. Where is your faith in me these daysI must have misplaced it for, i just found it here in my pocket
Tonight was a success, but we must march again soon. Help tend to the wounded and raise a new army for the next battle

With that The Reverend rode back to his castle, images of his victories floating through his head, to get a bit of shut eye before the next fight

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[center]The Reverend[/center]
[center]WoR[/center]


Wed Nov 06, 2002 7:30 pm
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Stablehand
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Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
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A parchment arrived in Dreadd's Castle. It was a letter from Seska Kardis, Arch-Chancellor of Quod Magnus Justus declaring war against the Seismic Reavers for taking her land. it was printed in the letter that Reaver troops have invaded Her Realm in between the War. Dreadd shooked his head. " Seska was last seen on the Flag of WoR who did scumming and Sorcery tactics to take Down the Realms of the Reavers."


Days came by and a reply was recieved. Apparently it has been stated that Seska already left WoR and gathered her people to another place where its peaceful. wanting to get back the lands that was taken away to her. approximately 3,200 acres was needed to take back so that they will not get involve in the war.

Dreadd agreed to give Negotiations, written below will be the terms and conditions to be met:

Quote:
Seska will recieve a 3,200 acreage for the negotiations and a bonus of 300 acres when agreed by both sides.

It will be given Back when the war will be over for her new Established Guild does not need to be involved in the current war the Reavers are Having.



Goodluck to you and to your fellow Lords, May you uphold your Principles and Beliefs the Right way.

Dreadd ~ Gm of Reavers


He later Sealed the latter with his siget ring, the Mark of Reavers Symbol, Go now and send this back to her lands.


_________________
[center] ~[shadow=yellow]Xe'l Naga Reaver[/shadow]~
~[shadow=blue]Lost Knights Alliance[/shadow]~
~Nawala na Kauban sa Buang~ [/center]


Thu Nov 07, 2002 12:47 am
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Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
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Location: The palahahahahahAHAHAHA
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This is the faith you picked for us Tvar...you realise we will invariably be tarred with the very same brush yes?

Dyvim looks carefully at the patch-work scarred face of his Captain of the Gaurd and grins wolfishly, thin lips pulling back to reveal wickedly sharp fangs that almost glitter such is their whiteness a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he shrugs his slender shoulders a little before raising slowly from the plush leather armchair he is lounging in. Silently he paces around the knight lord, the same predatory grin splitting his pale face and his crimson eyes glittering with menacing mirth, after several moments he stops behind the ghoul and rests his taloned hands on his shoulders, caressing the soft velvet of his jerkin and leaning closer to whisper in the mans ear, noting with some satisfaction that their is no trace of fear in this warriors scent.

I don't care in the slightest Rawne, not in the damned slightest!
You see while these petty little idiots are fighting their pointless wars and running around posturing like battling peacocks we stand atop the pile!
We stand above the rest and why? Because they consider us beneth their notice...yet if they knew we were more than the sum of our faith do you think they would leave us in peace Rawne? Do you think they would let us live unhampered if they knew our true agenda...I think not, so for now we play the game of politics like any other guild...it is already common knowledge that I condemn the actions of Isonia and Foret alike in this matter despite my loathing for the wretched scum of Darden. I firmly believe that when a foe is so mentally inferiour you should not need strength of arms to defeat them, outmaneuvering their meagre minds should suffice enough...alas my bretheren of the faith seem inclined to disagree with me so let them rot for all I care. My support in this faith, for what it is ever worth is restricted only to those who have ever aided us or shown a shred of dignity or self respect.
Let the others squabble in the filth of their own making, we are better than they are and when the end times are brought to pass they will realise their folly of shunning our truth!


The Dark Elf turns slightly and catches the slightly glazed look in his masters eyes and shudder just a little, casually prying himself from the tightening grasp of Dyvim's hands and siddling towards the door carefull, clearing his throat to jerk his lord out of his trance with a quiet clearing of his throat. Dyvim glances quizzically at Rawne and cocks his head to one side exectantly.

Would you like me to send out a public missive on the mattr my liege or shall we continue to play from the shadows as per the script of the puppet masters?

Dyvim just laughs and waves his hand dismissively at the poorly concealed disgust in Rawne's voice before glaring slightly, his mood suddenly dangerously serious to the point of chilling the air between the two, his voice now a soft and deadly hiss,

Never reffer to them like that again Rawne, it displeases more than just their vanity you know!
As for your question...yes, make it public! See if people care enough to go into an uproar or if they merely dismiss us as babbling lunatics beneath their attentions as always...one way or another we win out in the end, how can we not? We are eternal after all, sure as sure!


Dyvim starts to laugh at his private joke and saunters back to slump into his large leather chair as Ranwe exits the chamebr hurriedly.

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Eddie Kim sends his regards, motherfucker!
WhY so SeriOUs?
FOXHOUND - It'll make you a god damn sexual tyrannosaur, just like me!


Thu Nov 07, 2002 2:44 am
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Stablehand
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Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
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Location: Your nightmares.
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She groaned in irritation, then rolled over onto her stomach, burrowing her head under the pillow and yanking the blankets up overtop. The incessant pounding outside had kept her up for over two days. The annoying cretins had been visiting her realm every chance they got.

At first it had been skirmishes with her soldiers at the borders. Then they had decided to try and send their thieves in to destroy. Just last night some sorcerous fiend had attempted to fry her while she slept. Of course they hadn't succeeded. Her people were resilient and had quickly set to repairing what damage had been done.

The only thing the mongrels had succeeded in was to grab a few acres of briar patches and keeping her up past her bedtime. She hated when she wasn't allowed to sleep. Snarling she tossed back the covers and threw her pillow at the startled chambermaid who had the unlucky misfortune of walking in with a pitcher of water at the exact moment Demetria had taken aim at the door. The water of course ended up all over the poor, stammering girl and the floor.

Glaring at the cowering servant, she narrowed her eyes.


As soon as you have cleaned up your mess, I want you to take word to Maledict. Tell him I am tired of not getting a moment to myself because of these curs and if I'm going to have to constantly see their ugly mugs, then it's gonna be over the dead bodies of their children in the bloodsoaked ground of their towns.

And then bring me a bagel. I'm hungry.


She didn't wait to watch the frightened girls rushed curtsey as she ran to do the bidding. She was already tossing her bed-clothes around the room and then leaving her room to go borrow some breeches from one of the serving boys. The annoying matronly old woman had taken her clothes again and left her with nothing but dresses to wear.

You'd think she was a lady or something.

_________________
It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe...
...the night belongs to us.


Thu Nov 07, 2002 8:20 am
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Location: The red desert realm
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For two risings of the sun I stood out in the barren lands, for two days I watched the sun trace its path across the sky. For two days I waited to see of any of the heathen hordes would dare come speak with the beast of Darden.

And not one came.

Did I honestly expect that they would? No of course not, why would these ones dare lay their heretical gazes upon a creature such as I? They would see me and not understand, never seeing that I am Darden's strength made flesh, I am the evidence of His love for His followers. How could such enemies as we war against grap the truth of that? They have become so blinded by their own versions of the truth that they are no longer capable of seeing what is plainly laid before them. Instead of accepting what they are and what they do they would rather weave a web of their own deceptions across the lands, entangling all who live here. And when we were all ensnared in their net of falsehoods, what would happen then? Then we would all truly be damned, for to live as they do is not to live at all.

I move away from the wastelands that none claim as their own, seeking my way ever closer to the heathen lands. And as I lope onwards I realise that these ones will never learn from the mistakes of their past, they are too stubborn, too entombed in their own way of thinking. All creatures that hope to prosper in the isle must record of their past, many do set themselves to keep to that task, I have seen the products of their toiling. And yet these ones do so rarely tell of their 'great' deeds that I must come to the conclusion that they forget their past as soon as it occurs. I growl at such a thing, knowing that to foget the past is to forget who you are. The growl forms itself into a prayer, Darden preseve us from such a fate. Never let me forget where it is that I originate from, never let the scribes stop the their writing of the tales. Lord of all Sorrows...let me act out a tale for You as the sun sets once again.

The land is devoured under me, sweeping away and leaving only my footprints behind as the sign that I was there. My pure white fur is sleeked back against my body with the speed of my travel, the wind pressing it flat even as the last of the light dances upon it. Occansionally I see a homestead or two, poor farmers trying to eke out a living in this most inhospitable of lands. What must they think as they see me? A great white beast that almsot looks like the terrible melding of a mountain bear and a northern wolf. Teeth of whitest ivory gleaming in the failing light, sharp enough to tear the flesh from their bones without troubling myself. Claws ripping at the ground, rupturing the earth and creating new holes there that will never be home to the seed that they try to sow here. Now and then I let my eyes met theirs and that is when I see the strangest, most fearful reactions from these heathen peasants. They expect to see the feral eyes of some creature from their darkest nightmares but instead they find themselves looking into human eyes of lightest blue, intelligent and angry.

And I have good right to be angry, good reason to allow my rage to flow through every muscle of my body. Together heathens of both faiths sought to put an end to the righteous children of Darden, together they lusted after the land that He had given to us. And even now when our brethern come to our aid we are still out-numbered by the enemy who set themselves before us. Some of them even seek to decieve, pretending that they do not send their armies out against us when they do, when their banner of war against us still flies for all the people of the Maxim isle to see.

There shall be a reckoning for them someday, I only trust that I am there on that most blessed of days to catch their tears and offer them up to the Lord. Now there would be a fit sacrifice for the demon God, though not as worthy as if it were their wretched selves prostrated before His altar, begging for His forgiveness.

Up ahead I see the sorcery-blasted territory of the heathen who has dared defy His laws. If this follower of the pride-filled Eldest God would only look upon his actions and those of his leaders perhaps he might see the truth of his crimes against Darden's followers. But no he will see our retaliation as justification of what he has done, the lies forced upon his soul by his foul deity having dug too deeply, their grip too great to be taken out. Mother would be sad to see another's soul lost to the damnation of the afterlife already, but this one has already turned his back on the cowled God. He seeks his own soul's torment almost gleefully like a child does candy, never seeing that his choices lead him ever further from salvation.

Towers alone protect this realm now from the armies of Darden, great lines of buildings standing like silent guardians along his borders. I cry out my rage, letting it bellow out into the heathen lands, resonating in the hearts and minds of all that heard it. I set my strength against the stone blocks, tearing them down one by one, knowing that it might be a futile gesture but knowing also that it might aid those of Mother's allies that came after us. Here me heathen, blasphamous wretch, Foretian slave of Isonia, your life is forfeit in Darden's eyes, the life of your realm the same. The followers of the true Lord Darden have proclaimed it so and by His will it shall be so, the blood of your people shall drain into the earth and render it forever barren as a visible memory of your sins, the rage pours through me with each word. Pray to Darden for forgiveness savage, for His mortal followers shall not give you it.

_________________
[center]~~~SO~~~
Beast of Darden, Child of Ebony
I don't do this because I hate you, but rather because He loves you[/center]


Thu Nov 07, 2002 10:19 am
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Stablehand
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Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
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The Archangel stood at the edge of the ramparts of his keep, gazing out across the darkened nigh sky. Behind him stood Caelum Militis, awaiting orders.

"Caelum Militis.. Leader of my armies..."

"Yes, Sire?"

"Last of the Sky Knights..."

"Yes....."

"Leader of the former Sky Knights during their only defeat. A defeat brought about by treachery..."

"... Yes ..."

"Caelum Militis, only survivor of the ambush that destroyed the Sky Knights..."

"You know all this, why must you bring it up again?"

The Archangel smiled slightly, turning his head to look at Caelum, and pointing out to the fields in front of the Keep.

"Look."

Caelum stepped forward, looking out into the field... Seeing nothing in the darkness, till a massive bolt of lighting turned the area a light as mid-day.

And he gasped, staggering backwards. On the field, stood hundreds of soldiers, winged, and all wearing the armor and crests of the Sky Knights. Long swords at their sides, a dozen heavy spears attached to harnesses across their backs.


"They're yours, Caelum. Take them, and destroy our enemies... Let the Sky Knights rule the sky once again!"

But Caelum was already off.. Having taken two bounding steps and leaping over the stone rail, he spread his great black wings, gliding over the new Sky Knights. As a unit, the armored figures turned, and ran, taking to the air almost immediatly, and falling into formation behind their General.

The terrors of the sky had returned....

_________________
[center]~Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall~
Captain of the Guard
WoR[/center]


Thu Nov 07, 2002 9:45 pm
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