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 Threatening Scribes, Hollow words. 
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Stablehand
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Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 91
Location: Maxim
Post Threatening Scribes, Hollow words.
Obsidian eyes rolled heavenward once he had finished reading the scribe so graciously sent to him by a certain Lady Hannah. He wracked his brains trying to put a face to the name but despite her claims to have been a force to be reckoned with in the area of sorcery he had never heard of her.

Perhaps he shouldn't have sent the handful of thieves that he'd hired. Perhaps he shouldn't have ordered them to loot a member of the clan IOM. The world is full of perhaps and maybe and what if, the harsh reality was that he had sent them in and they had returned with sacks full of gold and expensive trinkets. That was when the messenger arrived.

A young boy, probably no more than twelve human cycles of age ran up to the outskirts of the makeshift camp, his face was bloated and red as he breathlessly asked the guards to give the demon a scribe from this Lady Hannah.

Maledict had heard it all before, whining interspersed liberally with not-so-veiled threats. All hot air and bluster that served to make the demon chuckle to himself rather than quake in the fear that she had obviously hoped to provoke within him.

Fear. Of what? He had attacked some of the finest kingdoms on the Isle, not only that, but he had lived to tell the tale. The Officium may well be no more, but the demon fought on for now and a scribe full of threats wasn't worth the parchment that it had been written on. True enough, if he pushed hard enough he could well find himself on the recieving end of something nasty, painful, even. Would that really be a bad thing?

What shall we do, Lord Torturer? The guard who had passed on the scribe asked.

Do? Maledict threw the parchment into the camp-fire and grinned as the flames enveloped it greedily. Send out a few messengers, make sure that this Lady Hannah knows that she has got absolutely no chance of a public apology from me.

The guard nodded. And then?

And then.. nothing.

The truth was that he was past caring.

_________________
The Torturer


Wed May 14, 2003 5:53 am
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Stablehand
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The bleating shriek of a nearby Goat awoke the sullen Giant as he gained much needed rest. For he certainly did not appreciate the interruption, especially from such an unhelpful source. It appeared it was a busy night for his scribes and messengers as his nearby desk was stacked with many scribes. He quickly dressed and left his quarters decided to read the scribes outside in the fine morning sun. Many minutes were passed carefully understanding the full ramifications of what had occurred.

The cumbersome beast nearly choked on his selection of fruit, it seemed Isonia’s chosen had decided to stick their nose in such matters that did not concern them, therefore the Torturer himself threatened in a callous manor.
They wish to take on the Torturer! The Giant cried into the morning sky Well they are braver fools than I ever gave them credit for.

Smiling to himself, he returned to his quarter in preparation for the day ahead, musing at the still bleating Goat.

_________________
[glow=firebrick]Where there is evil, there has to be Good[/glow]

[glow=black]Sanctum Officium still flows through my veins[/glow]


Wed May 14, 2003 3:16 pm
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Pseudo-Voodoo Sidhe
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Cold were the eyes of the sorceress, cold and empty of all emotion, she stood like a maiden of ice even in the middle of the scorching desert. But no sun could melt her, no heat could turn her limbs to water and make them run into the thirsting earth. Any who looked at her might have thought her a statue, carved by some artist caught up in a dream, or perhaps some twisted nightmare. She had lived longer than many creations of an artist's hands, seeing through the ages as a Sidhe, time taking her slower than the more mortal races. And now she watched the world dispassionately, now that the desert realm of her sleeping host was far from the wars and petty troubles of the guilds.

But still news would reach her now and then, tales of what occured outside their borders of sand and stone.

Dark grey eyes looked down the parchment before her, a most amusing morsel of news. And just as an onlooker might have thought the sorceress truly a work of stone and not flesh, she smiled.

They play with fire here, her voice lilted with laughter, a chill amusement that did not sit well with her too-hot surroundings. To threaten the Torturer? To demand a public apology from him? How amusing, even I who has once slain that demon with iron would not would not presume such a thing. I wonder if they really thought that they would be capable of making him back down, to make him grovel before Isonian forces. A delusion if they thought so, Maledict has never done such a thing and I do not think that this Lady Hannah is the one to make him do so now. I do not believe that there is a heathen among the dead or the living who could bring the Torturer to heel, but let the heathens dream their impossible dreams.

The one who had brought her the news looked sullenly on, the people of the red sands were of few words. Shall I raise the army? Is it time to fight by the side of the Torturer once more?

Lyssia smiled sadly, her amusement gone, she knew how much the people of the sands longed to fight for their Lord once more. These souls lived and died for Darden alone, they longed for nothing more than to see despair wash across the world and drown all those of the Foretian and Isonian faiths. To them even the idea of people not following the God of Sorrows was an affront, the most wicked of sins that must be destroyed. They wanted to see heathen blood spilt by their hands again, they wanted to water the desert with it...but now was not the time. The Officium is gone friend, the desert is withdrawn from the games of politics and power...for now at least.

And what of the Torturer and this 'Lady Hannah'?

The Sidhe sorceress turned her back on the man, letting the parchment fly from her hand and be drawn out to the sands. Perhaps she smirked, perhaps she felt sorrow for the one who had caught the attention of Maledict so, perhaps the emotions of a Sidhe are too hard to trace. Let him have his fun.

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SO - Into darkness...
Hlasta! Quetis Ilfirimain
Elador's Sváss


Wed May 14, 2003 4:41 pm
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Stablehand
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And so the fun began.

The Sidhe smiled as he looked down from his tower, a piece of crumpled parchment in one hand. The time was nearly at hand; new allies would rise to replace the new, and the next Reckoning of Darden would consume what remained of the island.

Until that happened, though, he had a few small other matters to deal with.

Such as one particular Isonian, who seemed to take it into his head that he could interfere in a war between Darden and Foret forces, torching Darden's sacred temples. His justice was swift and merciful, and that Isonian soon knew Darden's particular brand of Despair.

And now this message. The Sidhe did not know how he had received it, since the names on top belonged to his former colleagues, Maledict and Nufan, but it amused him to no end nonetheless. Ryloc, the leader of NV, humbly requested that they stay out of their current undertaking against some of Darden's most fanatic followers, the Drinkers of the Bowl--then offered them residence in his own guild, adding insult on top of insult. He smiled slightly--the Bitch Goddess would never hold his loyalty, let alone his faith, and no amount of requests or demands or threats would keep him from a war he felt compelled to intervene in.

Of course, he had no plans to do such at this point--there were much larger issues in the works than but one war.

The crumpled parchment left his hand and floated away from the tower, carried by the wind to destinations unknown. Such a veiled ultimatum deserved no written response--actions spoke much louder than words, in any case.

And so the Sidhe retreated back within his keep--there were plans to be laid, and carried out, before the night was over.

_________________
[center]Sorentio Rhicende
Rhyming Magician
Sanctum Officium
1am GMT 27/3/04
[/center]


Wed May 14, 2003 7:48 pm
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Stablehand

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Batlord had listened to the words told by the Torturer

Himself and his friends were hit by this group of unguilded paria's, a bunch of wannabees moving around from one city to another, from guild to guild searching for a home but apparantly no one was willing to give them a house and a home.

The one who was called the Torturer shall be known now as King for one day.
He was thinking that us Isonians wouldn't hit him after he eliminated our top kingdoms. Wrong, very wrong...

The only real punishment for being homeless in this guilded lands is DEAD and DESTRUCTION. Know that every rich and landfat kingdom will be taken down when they stay unguilded...

Spread the words to the other paria's over there who surround this Torturer.
The Officium is dead or dying ...

They won't give money and support anymore to the other Dardens.


Thu May 15, 2003 11:44 am
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Stablehand
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Location: Lost and Wandering
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The Bleating Goat had returned! Consistency. It nearly bored the irritable Beast. Some things remained the same no matter what time had elapsed, or events past. Thumbing through the latest offering from worshippers of the Bitch goddess he was hardly surprised. Batlord had once more staked his claim interfered where he had no right of that there was no doubt, and in turn Sorentio provided him with ultimate retribution.

Returning to his quarters, he slowly and calmly packed his most important possessions into several cotton bags. For he was tired, tired of life upon the Isle, tired of the ramifications of caring for a vast castle, and most of all tired of the bile spewing idiocies from the likes of Batlord and his following. He would rather spend the rest of his days under no banner then associate himself with the likes of the Mastabas.

If he was to live in the shadow of the Officium for the rest of his days, then maybe it was best not to be remembered at all. The Officium had long gone before Bat had heroically declared as such, the only explanation the Giant could find was jealousy, but yet he did not possess the time, or inclination to fully comprehend the ramblings of a fool.

Resting his huge skull on his bureau, he took a few minutes of well-earned rest.

_________________
[glow=firebrick]Where there is evil, there has to be Good[/glow]

[glow=black]Sanctum Officium still flows through my veins[/glow]


Thu May 15, 2003 5:34 pm
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Stablehand
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I see. Even though his heart told him to take down as many of them as he could before his armies died, his wisdom told him to find a home, hopefully a permanent one. The captain stood before him with a sullen look on his face, news of the attacks made on Sorentio hadn't taken long to reach the Torturer, twelve whole kingdoms had attacked the valued ally.

Twelve.

As powerful as his army was, he knew that those odds were stacked against him twice over. Four he could have handled, perhaps. Twelve though, that was just too many and so he sent messengers out to the followers of Darden offering the services of his army and more importantly, his mind.

A reply soon came back, he had been offered a home and gladly accepted the gracious offer. So let us fly the banner of the Dogs with pride. He said in his usual hushed tone. It seemed ironic that he should be a part of a clan named Dogs, for he had been called such many times.

The demon had had his fun, now it was time for him to settle into the home that he had been offered. As for this Batlord, well, perhaps he would be shocked that the pariah known as Maledict, this unwelcome creature of darkness, a demon reknowned for his deadly ways, had been given a place to stay. Surprised even that he had friends? Not that Maledict cared what an Isonian thought of him, an old saying sprung to mind.

To thine own self, be true.

The Torturer had no reason to boast, he knew his worth.

_________________
The Torturer


Thu May 15, 2003 7:56 pm
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Stablehand

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The lands from the Islanders have finally found peace.

The pariah's , the restless rich and wealthy darden's had finally found a new home.

It's good to see that they finally found a bed and a hot meal. That way they wouldn't hit us anymore...temporarely of course...cauz there restless nature will evidentaly cross our ways again. Not now...soon...not too soon but soon enough.

It's good to see that Nufan, the good guy among the bad guys have finally joined a new guild.
Go in peace my friend but know that we keep an eye on your wealthy doms...


Sat May 17, 2003 5:48 pm
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