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 Of Sweet Decay and Chaos (open) 
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Stablehand
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Joined: Tue Mar 02, 2004 8:28 am
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Post Of Sweet Decay and Chaos (open)
So many prophets and soothsayers had tread this very beach, feeling the powder fine sand chafe beneath the straps of their pilgrims sandals. Some had preached of rebirth and life renewed, while others foretold of dark days and the end of all time. Yet as the waves crashed angrily against the strand, and the sky steadily darkened, the hooded wanderer carried no such visions of finality or rebirth. His message was one of decline and decay to be sure, but death and the end of days were much too merciful for his master, and rebirth and renewal, the mindless drivel of fools and victims.

And the day shall come when the very dirt and rock of the Isle shall swallow entire realms regardless of faith and alignment. Those that remain shall build anew, and in the building breed the sweet bastard child Chaos. He will walk amongst us, wearing the mantle of a man, yet bearing no soul. He will profess no allegiance to any deity, nor will oppose them, for the Faith is his favorite mistress. Faith feeds complacency to the weak, and desire to the driven. She revels in the sound of blade against blade and the battle cry of her mindless slaves as they clash , bleed and die. Faith is crueler than an executioner, for she offers only empty promises hope where there is none.

The bastard Chaos and Faith shall wed and in with their union, rain woe and misery upon the realms of man, elf, elemental and droben. And the beings shall give thanks for their overflowing cups. They will drink the bitter wine with relish, toast their gods and perish in their fervor.

Chaos is constant, and ever changing. Chaos is the truth entwined with a lie. He all fulfilling and emptiness at once. He is my true master and I serve him to the grave and beyond.


The dark wanderer continued along the storm washed beach, mindful of the faint shaft of light just beginning to penetrate the grey green thunderheads. His master would soon arrive.


Tue Mar 02, 2004 10:50 am
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Stablehand
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The tiny seaside settlement of Angasbore boasted three boats, a ramshackle dock and a dozen or so hovels, that would have been considered poor quarters for sheep on much of the Isle. The villagers pulled their hard won, yet meager livlihood from the sea, and in death, to the sea their bodies returned. These poor folk cared not for politics, aside from paying their annual tribute to whatever Lord claimed them at the time.
More times than not, their little circle of paupers huts was completely overlooked by outsiders and Lords alike. Not on this day.


The Hooded man entered the village nigh upon noon. The seafarers were readying their nets and launches late today, due to the violent storm that had disappeared as quickly as it had blown in. As the dark wanderer passed the docks, all work halted, the fishermen staring in suspicion, a nagging fear tugging deep within their core.

Beneath the hood, his lips parted over his canine like teeth in a triumphant smile.

This village will do nicely. My Master will be most pleased.


Wed Mar 03, 2004 11:47 am
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Stablehand
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The child sat squalling in the middle of the dirt track that passed for Angasbore's only thoroughfare, tears tracing streaks through the grime on his cheeks. His mother, heard not his cries of fear, for she layed upon her straw pallet in their squalid little hovel, numb from the wine and revelrie of the night before. At seven winters, the lad had grown quite accustomed to the steady stream of ill reputed men that ebbed and flowed over their threshold, and though wise in the ways of the world, his fear had won out at the sight of the robed stranger striding into town.

The wanderer paused before the child, fixing him with a cold, ice grey gaze from beneath the dark hood. The childs sobs subsided, sheer terror robbing him of what little voice he posessed as the wanderer lifted the lad into his arms and hissed into the childs ear.


Your tears are well founded, little one, and are not the first nor certainly not the last to be shed on these shores. Rest easy now though, boy for you shall watch it unfold by my side and if the master wills it, mayhap you'll be an instrument in the chaos that is to come. Look around you, boy. Has it not already begun? Your mother lies in a stupor, her mind nearly dead, and her body soon to follow in it's misuse. Where is your father, Boy? I would venture to guess your mother knows not, had she ever. The only assumption would be it is one of these thick headed louts that cuffs you in the ear at your own door as he enters your home seeking services. No. There is nothing for you here in your current state. The Masters coming will change it all, little one. The Master will give you a gift you will one day come to cherish above all else. HE will give you sweet revenge.

The Wanderer gently lowered the boy to the ground and extended his gnarled and scarred hand. Without hesitation, the boy grasped it and following the Dark Man into his mothers hovel, the faint spark of hatred landing upon the tinder of seven winters of abuse.


Thu Mar 04, 2004 11:57 am
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Stablehand
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They entered the dark hovel, and stood above her, the eyes of the child blank, those of the dark one glowing hungrily beneath his heavy woolen hood.

The womans sweat soaked dirty blond hair wrapped around her haggard face...her skirts, riding high up her thigh. Reminders of a night spent with no thought of the child now standing above her.

The dark man withdrew a simple iron dagger from beneath the folds of his robe, and pressed it into the boy's hand.


It begins here child. With one stroke, the first of your woes shall cease to exist.

His young hand closed around the hilt with purpose as he knealt beside the snoring harlot he had called mother. The spark had caught, and grown to a flickering blaze. He now knew hate and thirsted for retribution.

The child drew the flat of the blade slowly across her forehead. She stirred not. Tracing it down her soot smudged cheek, he paused, yet only for the briefest of moments, when the iron caressed her pale, exposed neck, before turning the well honed edge and drawing it violently across her throat.

As her life spilled forth in a torrent, the womans eyes opened in shock, terror then finally resignation.

The DoomSpeaker plucked the dagger from the childs hand, wiping it clean on the dying womans tattered blouse, looking down at the shuddering boy.


The power you feel now is but a glimpse. You shall take back all that was stolen from you. The Master wills it.


Sun Mar 07, 2004 3:03 am
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Stablehand
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The unlikely pair exited the tumbledown hut, heading for the boats at the waters edge. The Dark Wanderers eyes glowed with malice beneath his hood as they neared the fishermen readying their nets. When they were but a few steps from the first of the boats, The Doomspeaker shouted above the waves and clamor.

The time has come for atonement. Surely men who exhibit such strength, power and confidence will have no issue with reckoning for their deeds. Come hither and receive the payment due you, every last one of you. Strikers of children!

The blades flashed before the first of the men could break away or draw his own steel, his jugular spilling life onto the sand.. The Doomspeaker whirled on the second and third driving his fist into the nose of one, and a blade into the belly of the other. The fourth man dropped to his knees, weeping and pleading. The Dark man gently lifted the mans chin, locking the cowards eyes with his own, smiling a knowing smile.

Yes, little man, I will show you mercy. The greatest mercy of all He whispered as he drew the dagger savagely across the mans throat, opening it from ear to ear. Would that I could make you linger for a week or two, praying for death.

Turning to the boy, the Doomspeaker ordered Take what you will of from these dung piles and let’s be on our way. We’ll leave the simpering fool with the broken nose to tell our tale, for a fine tale it is.

The wanderer grinned wolfishly.

Yes, the master will be quite pleased with our work here, my young friend. But there is much yet to do.


Fri Mar 19, 2004 9:30 am
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