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 Magus asks, "Who are you?" (Open) 
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Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
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Post Magus asks, "Who are you?" (Open)
OOC: I thought it would be rather interesting to have a thread where people could post thier character history so that others might use it to help Rp with yah. All may use Magus


Magus walked into the library at propmtly dawn as he alwasy did. It was a rather old library havng been kept here for ages by the monks of his order. An order that had almost died out. The tombs that covered the many shelves were all dusty and yellowing with age. Everyday, Magus and the other monks would enter and take another scroll off the shelves and recopy it. Today was another day to begin the work. These were the monks of Bisbo, they were of all the faiths and only talerated each other becasue of the common task that they preformed, the charting of history as it were.

Magus walked in and went to the back of the great room that was as long as the outer castle wall, as a matter of fact the shelf he was looking at rested aginst this outter wall.

Reaching at the top he grasped the scroll he would be copying for the day...

Aidan Feargahal

Was written on the side of the scroll. Taking the sroll Magus walked over to the old rear worn stool that sat at his desk, and layed the scroll out. Taking a piece of new parchment from his drawer, he used his inkwell to hold the parchemnts down, and he began to copy....

The morning dew, was on the leaf as I lifted myself from the ground and stood brushing myself off. My father liked to play tricks of jumping out of the cupboard when one was coming down the stairs. Today I was not thrilled by this behavior. Last night I had received the grandest news of all my life. Today I was to go fishing with my father and his men on his fishing boat. My mother was none to happy, but I was 12 I was a man.

My mother woke me early in the morning that day, kissed me on the forehead and hugged me tight. I think she rather felt something was going to happen. I ran downstairs and that is where my father scared me. We all three sat at the table and had porridge and milk. Upon finishing, my father looked at my mother...

“Dun worrie Bridg. The boy el be fine. Why, hes goin outta wit me and me best mates. Why there aint a finer vessel or a more experienced crew.”

My mother stood then and wiped her hands on her apron as she gathered up the dishes. Now that I think back I often wonder why she bothered to wipe her hands off to grab dirty dishes. Regardless she said nothing and turned her back on the two of us. My father and I shared a secret smile as we gathered our belongs that we were taking with us. AS we left the house, I could feel the woman’s eyes on my back. I wish I had the thought to turn back and look at her one more time, but I thought I was being a man.

The town we lived in was called Dun Galowey, it was on the island of Erin. Located on the western side of the island, it was a green paradise. Little did I know that this was to be the last time I saw my native land. As we approached the dock, I watched as my younger school mates came and goggled at me as I walked the gangplank tot he vessel that my father and his friends owned. As I walked across the plank, I was greeted by a throng of sweaty oily men that had already begun the days work...

The night light was getting dim. Magus reached over adn folded up the scroll again. He would have to finish copiing it later. Standing he walked out the door and with a creak it slammed behind him. Leaving the great library tothe ghosts and the dust bunnies....

Sat May 24, 2003 8:22 pm
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Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
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The scroll had been left upon the doorstep for the master of the keep to find, nestled in its small wooden chest, the design and make of the chest was simple but was well protected so that it would not come to any harm whether by man or nature, the ward would dissolve itself once the scroll was in the hands of the historian. The contents read as such.....

Taken from the Chronicles of Oriana Shadowbain
as scribed within the Garden of the Willows
Raya Keeper of the Chronicles of the Shadowbains.

She called for me one night, her usual smile on her face and in her violet eyes when I entered the garden parchment and quill in hand, it was a weekly ritual for my mistress to call for me to meet her in the garden where we would sit on overstuffed and oversized pillows sipping elven wine while she spoke adding another piece to her history and to her familys Legacy, and I would write.....

Life. Such a funny thing with its twists and turns, it's ups and downs, ironic really that some things come full circle. I write this in the hopes that someday my daughter and her daughter and her daughter and all daughters to come will reach some sense of knowing and understanding who and what they are.

So it came to be that I grew in my true mothers womb, the Sidhe Goddess of the Art Maelstryx , while she was banished to what I call the void, until it was certain that I would be safe from any punishments brought on by my parents actions, a mere man falling in love and laying with a deity was forbidden afterall.

A suitable couple were chosen to become my family and I was born unto Mara and Griffon Shadowbain.
And I wanted for nothing. They brought me up with the love and nuturing that is every childs right, they had enough love for me and my brother Gabriel,their true son to span all of eternity.
I never knew I was not of their blood and they loved me and treated me like I was their very own. They were heartbroken when the time had come for me to leave the home they had built around me and Gabriel, they knew what I did not, that Azrael the mage in the black robes and the most respected of all magic users in our lands was my father.
He came for me the day of my ninth birthday and after a tearful goodbye from my parents and my brother I left the only home I had known to study in the Archmages tower.
Fast forward a few years and you would find me the top student in all my studies, the Art seemed to flow from me like water from a stream and nothing was to complicated or complex for me to manage, I should have been happy but I was far from it.
I missed the warmth of my family, there certainly wasnt any in the cold hard tower in which I had lived, I missed so many things and I blamed Azrael for my misery and in turn decided to make his life hell.

The best way to describe how I was then?

Let me just say that if his hair hadnt been white already I would have made it so. My free spirit and wild nature matched my thirst for knowledge and I suspect this was the only thing that saved me from the full onslaught of his temper.
I hated him. Yet I held such high respect for him, had it not been for him I would not have been able to accomplish all that I had<
Of course the time came for me to leave the tower and you'll have to excuse me if I am not a stickler for detail like the mage, if I were to get into such detail we would be here for days

And leave the tower I did, much to the mages disappointment and most likely disgust I followed my own path and found myself wrapped in the arms of Leto so to speak.
Had I known then what I know now I wonder if I would have made the same choices.
I followed the golden god, held a position of power as leader and it was during this time that I met my husband Guidion, and together we created Tierney, I dont know if you have seen our daughter, her hair and skin is much like that of her grandfathers, kissed by Leto himself when she was brought into this world she was born already cursed.
She was born as his Avatar, and Letos sole intent was to set her loose upon all of Mo'Pri.
Of course to do so would upset the balance of the gods and thus would bring about the end of our world as we knew it.
My father kidnapped my child mere minutes after her birth and with Ayens help a doorway was opened to another null verse..

To make an even longer story short my daughter was given Maelstryxs' power by my mother herself, and by handing down such a gift, my daughter aged into the woman you have most certainly seen about .
But by doing this Leto was able to set Tierney upon Azrael and needless to say my daughter doled out to the mage the beating of his life.
Of course I had to interfere and by doing this I enraged Leto who turned on me as much as I turned on him proceeded to destory me from the inside out with nothing more than a mere touch from his hand.
And yes I died, but not before I had given my father the whole of my exsistance, I gave him the magics that flowed in my veins in order to aid him in defeating Leto.

I was gone for a year and somehow was brought back to this world with its new gods, the old world is gone and so much has changed through the tides of time. So few of my race remain, and I dont know how, I dont know why I just know that I still exsist. One thing remains constant .
My love of family, my loyalty to the many lives that have been connected with my own.

You see my history is long and complicated and I do not have my fathers flare of words, nor as you can see do I have the patience to speak them in order to fully explain it all properly. So if you have questions, you are more than welcome to ask them Keeper of the Chronicles and I will answer them as best I can.

My Heart, My Soul Lies Within the Dragonhand.
I'll miss you everyday until I see you again Darth

Sun May 25, 2003 3:29 am
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Bedow entered the old library he had heard the were a small order of monk’s that kept the family history and story of all who inhabited this realm. Lord Bedow and one of the monks walked to one of the far corners of the building where the account of Bedow’s family was kept. As they opened the scroll Bedow realized it contained very little. It didn’t contain much more then a list of names and various guilds that he, his brother, and father fought under. Other then a few dates which recorded births and deaths the parchment did not mention much more.
Bedow decide he would start with he and his brother’s story. Then include his family’s early beginnings. That was a task the would take much more time and a lot of research, but the search for information always intrigued him, so it would be a task not to burdensome.

Lord Toranork lay on his death bed with his twin sons at his side, Creed and Bedow. His final words were they split all of his land and his possessions between the two of them equally. Creed choice was for the lands to the north and west, leaving the lands east and south for Bedow. Each son was very different in their upbringing and their training. Creed the warrior, he excelled in all things involving war. The sword, he was a master rider; he also was a master of stealth, and he had a working knowledge of sorcery, though he did not trust those with powers of witchcraft and trickery. Bedow on the other hand was the diplomat; he was familiar with all matters of the state. He had spent many years in the search for higher learning, both here an abroad.
Both men choose different paths as well as faiths; each flourished for a time but they both eventually suffered the same fate, Destruction. Creed being the warrior ran his land much like a dictatorship. Though his people seemed happy, when he went to war his economy could not support a long drawn out war. Creed also lacked the skills to negotiate and his bold and brashness lead other leaders to dislike and distrust him. Whenever they had the opportunity, they would attack, in fear that Creed was planning the same for them.
Bedow the scholar helped his economy flourish. His people were always happy. Bedow to had a weakness, he lacked the skills to lead armies into battle. On several occasions Bedow misjudged his enemy’s weakness or went into battle blindly and was quickly overpowered by a much larger opponent.
Bedow thought there had to be a better way, so he sent a messenger to his brother requesting a meeting. They met, and both agreed that together they would be much more formidable. Creed would control all matters involving the armies, while Bedow would control all the functions of the state i.e. “economy, building and, diplomatic affairs”. Together they would be come one of the most powerful countries in the land, though they still made mistakes those were few and far between, and it would not be to long before they reached the top.

[center]<====]==OThe blood is on your handsO==[====>[/center]

Tue May 27, 2003 1:28 pm

Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 8
Location: Reading, UK
At the back of the library, lay a scroll that was much in need of copying to save it from the relentless passage of time. Dust lay heavily upon it, almost threatening to weigh down the page to the extent where it would crumble into dust itself. It had been overlooked for some time, after all the life that it contained was one that was now long dead and gone. Perhaps if the young monk had not chosen to walk that way the scroll would have remained forgotten, perhaps not. All the same when the monk walked by the shelf upon which the scroll rested it caught his attention. Not because it was the oldest among those that lay there, not because it was engraven with any special seal or name. But rather because he could have sworn that out of the corner of his eyes he saw it move.

Reverently he picked it up and took it to his work desk, careful not to put any further pressure upon the old scroll. The ink that the life had been written in had faded to grey, almost disappearing here and there. Yet the monk had young eyes and could make out enough of the tale to copy it. And as for the rest, those areas where the ink had vanished completely, well later the monk would say that it had seemed as though another stood by his side and whispered the right words in his ear.

The life of Lupren Mortalion, Paladin of the Three

Part I

The times of peace are gone, no more than whispered tales about the fireside now, passed on by world of mouth from eldest to youngest. Where once those of the isle worshipped all Three Divines, now we are splintered and split for the most part, each holding to only one. Prophets scream that the darkest of times is upon us, that all hope is gone and that it may never be found again. Already I have witnessed groups of lands banding together in the name of a single God, raising similar banners and marching on those who they claim are not 'of the true faith'.

True faith...

There was a time when all the Gods were looked upon equally, Their praises sang by all for They all had Their part to play. But the people forget that, already they break apart the shrines to what they now see as the 'false Gods' and spit on the graves of their forebearers who were wiser than them. I look upon the world and see naught but chaos, my heart bleeds at the sight and I wish to stop it. In recent years I have seen the corpses of women and children who have been stoned to death for daring to have their on beliefs. I have seen men sent out to war against blood-kin and friends because they stand on different sides of a border.

But enough of the world as it is, I can trust that it will get no worse than this but I fear that it shall. I fear that my actions, that I once had such hope would do good in the world, have only served to make things worse. They will come for me soon, come to judge my soul and I know that I shall be found lacking. These are my last words, I hope that apart from the misery I have caused, they shall be the only thing that I pass onto the next generation. If it is otherwise, if I pass on the darkness...then may the Three save you all.

When I was but ten summers of age I was pledged in service to a holy order of warriors who took me from my family. I was only a poor farm boy but those warriors took pity upon me and decided to raise me above my lowly upbringing. They taught me the mysteries of reading and writing, of the use of sword and shield, of how to ride a horse and how to hold true to all the Gods. Though the order was not looked upon favouribly it still kept to the old ways, worshipping each God as was Their right, praying to each for Their guidance in times of need. Many were the times that we were attacked simply for that, our traditions offending those who considered themselves purists of one faith or another.

In my fifteenth year I became a page to one of the great knights and followed him in his travels about the lands. It was then that my eyes were truly opened to the horrors that were happening because of the breaking of the one faith. During those travels I also came to realise how hated my order truly was. People would throw things at us as we passed, calling out swers and curses as though we were the most disgusting members of humanity that had ever existed. One night several men even tried to kill my lord knight and myself, their poisoned blades seeking out our flesh as we slept. Narrow was our escape from that town, but it also lit a fire within me, one that desired to raise the order in the eyes of the people, one that wanted an end to all the wars of religion.

Finally in my twentith summer I became a fully ordained member of the order, worthy of carrying arms and going about the business of the order in the outside world. Never had I been prouder than when I stood before the altar to the Three and recited the words of the vows. Images of Them stared down benevolently at me and my soul sang with joy.

After that time my life was unremarkable for several years and I travelled and fought for the honour of the order. But always I had that wish in my heart, that desire to see things made right so that there would be no more pain or hurt and so that the order would be revered rather than reviled. Eventually a tale came into my possession of an old artifact that seemed to be the answer to all my wishes. The story was told to me by an old man in a town whose name is now lost to me, indeed the town itself may now have been washed away by the endless tides of war. He told me of a crown fashioned from a fallen star, its beauty unsurpassed by anything that mortal man or woman had made since that moment. It seemed that the crown had been made by a holy man in a range of mountains where the star had fallen, and that each of the Gods had desired it for Their own. They wanted to possess it so much that each sent a champion into the mountains to search out the holy man and his creation. But when the champions arrived they found the old man dead, his fingers still clasped tightly about the crown. So they turned on one another, each wanting to slay those not of their deity so that they might take the crown, but so well matched were they that none of the survived the fight, together they went to their deaths. I had laughed at the old man's tale at first, not believing that anything made by mortal mans could be so coveted by the Gods. But he went on telling me of the crown's supposed powers and of how it had finally been dragged beneath the earth by a giant serpant.

The tale of the crown would not leave me and for many weeks I could not sleep without the thought of it entering my dreams. Finally I went to the head of my order for help and we prayed together in the temple. After a day of prayer I fell suddenly into a deep sleep from which none could wake me and in that sleep I thought my prayers were answered. I dreamed of the crown once more and seemed to find myself led to the very lair of the creature that had taken it from the world above. And as I stood and beheld the serpant I seemed to hear a sweet voice in my mind commanding me to slay it and retrieve what it had stolen. The voice seemed to promise me that if I were to do so and present the crown to the temple of the one true God then all would be made well.

The monk laid down his quill and rubbed his eyes wearily and in confusion. This was only part of the tale of this paladin Lupren, where was the rest?

Thu May 29, 2003 10:46 am
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Toph grimaced and snarled at the monk who had sat him down in a small room.
"Why cant you show me the records you have about my history, monk? Why am I here?"
"Because there are no records. Yet. It is my job to create them."
"No records?"
Toph paused, slightly unsure of what to do. He had come to see what the world knew of him and his exploits... and had just discovered that... they knew nearly nothing.
"Oh. Then what should we do?"
"Come, sit down, and start talking. I'll write it down and economize it later. Just whatever comes to mind. Start early, and move towards the present. Take as much time as you want."
"Ok. Here goes."

"I was born, oh... now it was 258 years ago, in a small, wooded clearing in the Limdil forest on the far side of the island. For my first 75 or so years, I lived with my mother and uncle in that clearing, my father having been killed in an anchient war. I like many sidhe, took years to mature, and grow, but my mind was trained at an early age in many subjects: math, science, writing, economics, public speaking... although I must admit that my practice in public speaking was slim to none... the forest is not a very... receptive audience, and my family was always supportive. Little did I know that, through all my tutoring, it would lead to my leadership of kingdoms, armies and people. Then, on my naming day, I got my first true gift. My bow."

Toph reached up and ran his hand along the well worn, polished ash that still served as his most trusty bow.

"There's something magical about it. Anyways, a few years later... I believe I was 80....3. 83. I decided that it was time for me to strike out in the world. So I snuck out and went into the city to see the sights. I ended up participating in a quest."

Toph paused.
"Do you think I could get a glass of water or something? This might take some time"

The monk nodded and got up to find a cup.

The monk returned, and Toph took a sip.

"Ahhh... much better. Thank you. Where was I?"

"I remember how I got involved in that quest... I managed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and ended up being pushed to the front of the crowd, along with the other questers. Little did I know what was waiting. We were... to get a sword or something, some lost relic.

What I got was a dragon. Or, perhaps more appropriately, a dragon got me. Llardorwyn has always been touchy about that subject... I dont have a dragon, he has me. I can remember a few times that I've been... erm... reprimanded for being out of line.

Anyways, Llardorwyn found us on our journey, in the midst of a battle against strange black riders. When I first saw the dragon's huge, golden, scaly head come down and stare at me... I was pretty frightened. I reacted instinctivly.

Suddenly, the world became so much clearer and sharper to me... my senses were heightened, and... trust me I was very confused. But the dragon wasn't moving! Later I learned that I had used magic... I hadnt known I could do any of that anchient craft, and yet, there I was, holding back a dragon with my mind. It was an experience... however Llardorwyn was much more experienced than me in the ways of magic. He dispelled my barrier in an instant, then turned to deal with a new band of riders."

Toph paused to take another sip.
"How is it so far?"
"Good, good. Keep going, keep going."
"All right."

"After that quest, which, Im sorry to say, ended rather unsuccessfully, Llardorwyn and I talked for a long time before finding a small parcel of land to call home. That parcel grew, as I used my magic skills to aid my neighbors and recieved recompense for it. Soon, I was elected the mayor of one of the free villages between kingdoms, as well as the land around it. When the wars started, I was offered the opportunity to protect the town, and soon became its lord."

"That is enough for now, my friend. Let me write it down, and come back in... maybe a week's time, and we can continue, if you wish."

"I think I will do that. Thank you."
Toph smiled and got up, as the monk led him to the exit of the library.

"That wasn't too bad..." Toph thought...

~OAFS' Resident Sidhe Mage~
The "EpiToph of Faith" ~Nagash

Fri May 30, 2003 12:35 am
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Taken from the Journals of Tierney Shadowbain....

Mother, friend, teacher, daughter, wife, Guardian...

My mother, the Archmage Oriana, born into this world yet not of this world, our beginnings so much alike yet it is with those histories that the similarities end.
Once she followed a golden god from a world long gone a loyal servant to Leto if ever there was her only flaw in the eyes of many was her ability to love, and her love for me, for her father would ultimately be her end....

Not many can speak of the day they were born but I can.
Created by the love of my mother and my father Guidion I was born into the world among wild storms, storms that have been whispered to only have raged in the same way but once before.
From these storms a hand reached out from the planes of death to wipe my mother brow and see to my safe arrival, Talanthys my mothers closest friend and perhaps even her biggest rival in some ways had gone against the laws of nature to be there as my mother had been there for her bringing me into the world kicking and screaming.
Golden skin kissed by Leto himself , hair as white as snow and eyes the twins of my father yes I had been born without any of the complications that so often arise in our time but safe I was not.
When I was brought into the world I had been born already cursed as an Avatar of Leto, his sole intent to loose me upon the now destroyed world of Mo'Pri.
To do so would upset the balance of the gods thus ending our world as we knew it, little did anyone know destruction was emminet regardless of what they did.
My Grandfather the Archmage Azrael kidnapped me mere minutes after my birth, ripping me from my mothers arms and with Ayens help a doorway was opened to another null verse.
It was in this void that my mother met her own mother Malestryx for the first time, and it was also how I came to be the age I am now instead of the 3 years I should be, Malestryx for whatever reasons bestowed upon me the bulk of her powers in the Arcane accelerating my growth and in this void I went from being a mere newborn to a woman almost 19 summers old.Yet by doing this Leto was able to bend me to his will and set me upon Azrael needless to say I doled out to the mage the beating of his life. As Leto looked upon his Avatar in her element my mother stepped in between me and the mage, enraging Leto to the point where with just a touch of his finger he destoyed her from the inside out, I watched my mother die just as our world was dying, I remember being forced through another portal and finding myself on a new world, but the rest is still shadowed in my memory, my father says its from the shock and all I've been through, I think I just dont want to remember....

Tue Jun 03, 2003 10:04 am
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Posts: 129
[OOC]Thanks Aidan [/OOC]

[center]Pyren Arkanius[/center]
[center][History Of Carthia][/center]
Once belonged to a droben Lord Goldlinger from an ancient age known as the time of the Regent, a time long since passed and best forgotten. This passage is all that remains from that time,"For it was when the gods themselves began to question the creations of life that each had made, including the race of droben who were singled out for their unique abilities during war.....I must attend to a meet on the Prophets island to hear of this Regent and plead for my peoples lives to be spared in my stead."
It was a mighty city then and had needed only minor improvements which wouldn't come till some 30 years later.
Refugees,frightend ex soldiers,lost children all sought refuge in it's broken walls and built homes from parts of the broken city. As more an more had arrived they began to rebuild the city with temples ,markets, libraries and schools of learning near any sort of vocation. It was during this era that a young wild eyed titan nobleman named Zal began forming a structure of order and law and began setting up a town guard and militia for the cities defense.Many were the battles he and his men fought so many none could keep track properly, Zal was even rumoured to be the reincarnation of the demon god Darden come back to seek vengence for some untold travesty. A rumor which served him well for his bravery and skill had been unmatched ,his foresight was thought unnatural and divine and few could sway his opinion should it conflict with it.
Loved by the denziens who made Carthia thier home he was soon elevated to the position of King by deeds alone with not one voice of objection from any. 10 years of peace passed and King Zal had just completed his families house Lictalon, a trend that the other nobles soon began .
But there was still one thing missing and that was King Zal had no heir or queen to rule by his side, Being a 10 foot tall titan made things a lil akward when it came to finding a mate and scribes were sent far and wide to all families of titans whom had high born daughters and were of noble blood.
27 families arrived with their daughters and all their belongings all vieing for the kings favor ,it would have an all out nobility war between them as to who would be the one to marry the King, till Zal himself stepped in to keep the peace.
It was then that Zal saw Lina of the house Atlana and his heart skipped a beat , her father was Carsus the Weaponsmith of the house Rior, a master weaponsmith without equal. When he saw that her father was about to declare war on the house Mirtis over an insult of his daughters clothing, Zal stood up on his dias and simply called her name out loud it was enough to silence the arguement and settle who was to be queen of Carthia in a weeks time.

Born to a royal family ,Pyren was the second of three children to the House Arkanius, His father Captain Borazan Arkanius and his mother Princess Alina Rior Arkanius , had seen fit to raise his children outside of their mothers royal comforts.
Much to the dismay of Alina and her father King Zal who almost forbid the wedding as Pyren's father was not of high born blood, but by the hand of Darden or by fates design. It was meant to be as Pyren's father was the only remaining warrior left alive from a war that ripped thru the lands .
Cathia was once a jewel of the river folk ,during easier and much missed times the cities splendor poured out in the form of botanical gardens, artworks and fine craftmanship from across the races and lands, during war the large garden area's housed the refugees from outlying vales,shires and each man was expected to do his part for the defence of the city citizen or no.

Borazan was but a young officer at the time but because of his previous service and gallant war record he was charged with protecting the princess along with 20 other men. He had learned to be a soldier the hard way as a young man , he had served in King Zal's army since he was 13 and had fought in 2 score worth of battles. At each successful victory he was called for promotion ,for feats of bravery ,diligence of orders.
It was during his 24th campaign against the armies of Isonia and his 2nd year as protectorate of the princess, that brought about a great change in courtly policy and his life.
The armies of Isonia had laid siege to the city of Carthia but could not break thru it's defense's ,the young wild eyed King Zal had seen fit to reinforce the walls that previous summer and employ several well known wizards to cast spells of protection and wardings.
His forsight and wisdom was well placed but his defense was still flawed as he had overlooked a small crack persae in his cities defenses. A river which brought fresh water and removed sewage flowed ungated under the cities defensive wall.

The entrance was some 200 feet under water and because of the current and distance one would need to hold his breath ,no man could make it alive. An oversight that nearly cost the King his only childs life.
40 elven assassins entered by way of the underwater tunnel not a sound was made as they hauled themselves out of the water and onto the river bank inside the city walls.
Wrapping themselves in dark cloaks they made their way thru the city unseen or heard by those who were on duty, it did not take them long to reach the outer wall of the castle.
In moments the guards were dead,poison needles protrude from their necks the small company makes it's way inside the castle courtyard..pfft pffft ...and 2 more guards die without a sound.
The only noise heard was the clasping "click" of the door to the grand hall closing behind them ,with deadly precision the assassins made their way thru the castle.

The attack would have gone unnoticed if it were not for Borazan's stubborn attention to detail, he was off duty and was returning to his officers quarters when he got the urge to do one final round at the castle before turning in.
It was then that he noticed the guards dead at the outer castle gate, running for the inner courtyard he broke thru the door to the grand hall , the sound of the door shattering roused what sleeping guards there were on duty.
Scanning the room he saw no sign save droplets of water on the floor all leading in all different directions, drawing his sword Borazan made his way swiftly to the royal chambers .Pulling on the alarm rope as he passed by it, a sharp bell sound rung out.
Soon followed by another and then a continuous clacen of bells as the castle was put on alert. In moments half sleepy and dressed guards were clamouring into the royal chambers, fanning his men out in 2 directions Borazan told his men
"To follow the droplets of water on the floor and find those intruders".

Borazan and 5 men began their search for the intruders by following a trail of water , after a short time the trail could be seen leading up to the queens bed chamber.
A cold chill came over Borazan as he slowly turned the handle, a scream was heard from behind the door in a flash Borazan and his men were in the room an upon the assassins.
The elves were half their size and a quarter their strength and fell fast when struck ,but their advantage was speed although all 4 assassins died they took 4 of his with them.
Leaving the last guard inside the room Borazan locked the door to the queens chambers, the guard had orders of no admittance till his return.
He then made his way thru the castle to the princess's chambers, as he rounded the corner he could hear the sounds of combat up ahead .
He was about to come running around the next corner when the fight came to him. The hallways although large by human standard were ideally designed to cause an opposing force no room to outmanuever it's defenders.

His guardsmen were using large kite shields to protect themselves from the poison darts,all the while advancing forward on the elves as they began to back away down the hall. But although their shields covered most of their bodies his men were falling almost as fast as the elf's.
It was at point Borazan realized the door to her room was in the path of the fight ,charging forward he caught them somewhat by surprise.
He felled 3 by the time they had realized they were being attacked from both sides ,grabbing a tapestry from the wall and using it as a shield Borazan swung his sword viciously at the intruders .
One by one they fell but so did his men, in what seemed like days of battle was over in less then a cock's crow. 39 assassins along with 19 of his men lay dead ,He was at a loss as how they got in when his thoughts of the princess snapped him him back to reality.

Quickly he made his way to her room and bursting thru the door bloody sworn drawn woke the princess with a fright. Scanning the room he found no trace of any intruder turning towards the angry and shocked young woman ,Borazan quicky told the Princess of what had transpired.

"Forgive me M'lady but we've intruders in the castle, i must ask that you dress quickly and lightly as we need to move you and the queen to a safer location. If it would please your highness i will help you pack."
Not taking no for any answer Borazan walked towards her walk in closet ,when a splat sound struck his ear..Stopping him in his tracks, looking down he saw a droplet of water just outside of her closet.
Turning quickly to the princess he motioned her to find cover under the bed and to be silent ,reluctantly she found it undignified and unlady like to hide under the bed .So he would have to suffice to have her
duck behind the bed.
Standing to one side of the closet, he called out to the princess...

"if she was ready to go and that they must move quickly", in his best impression of a female voice Borazan answered himself with a "yes"
Seeing another open closet door Borazan slammed it shut and deftly took to hiding beside the walk in doors, his sword at the ready he hoped his ruse would pay off.
As luck would have it did after a short wait and a couple of stay hidden gesture's to a reluctant princess ,she watched in horror as her closet door opened by what seemed it's own volition.
She was about to scream as she saw the hooded elf carefully begin to exit her closet ,but her voice would not come.At that point he spotted her, he stiffened and was about to bolt but it was to late Borazan's sword shot thru the closet door and his ribs pierceing his heart.

Quickly Borazan hefted the young woman into his arms and ran towards the queens chambers, unlocking the door and calling to the guard before opening the door.Borazan entered the room gesturing for them to follow both he and the remaining personal guardsman along with their charges made their way to the great hall.
It was then that reinforcments had arrived from the defense wall, King Zal's coach had also just arrived thankfully Borazan thought his king was at the front and not in his castle when they struck.
Borazan along with his only remaing guardsmen stood at attention awaitng the King,when the princess Alina saw fit to thank him with hug thought to long by her mother and by a kiss that caught even Borazan off guard let alone her father who walked in during her moment of gratitude.

2 years later they were married with a blessings from the King and his fathers people, the following year Pyren's older brother Atos was born, 3 years passed till Pyren was born and then came the day of sadness as Queen Lina(Princess Alina's mother) passed of a sickness. Still with child Princess Alina was devasted by her mothers passing , and fell into a dreadful melancoly, fearing for his wife and unborn childs health Borazan moved his family from the comforts of the castle to their new home in the city district.
A decision that nethier his father nor his mother would regret, for shortly after moving Lina was born and Pyrens mother found a renewed strength of will in her home and family....

~From the endless void we come, and blackness shall consume us. Time is the abyss and death has no meaning~
PitLord of TBL
Titan of TDoD

Tue Jun 03, 2003 3:09 pm

Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 8
Location: Reading, UK
The young monk had searched high and low for the remaining tale of the life of the paladin Lupren and yet he had found nothing. He had spoken with the older members of his order but they had simply shook their heads and had told him that they knew nothing of it. Why had someone taken the time and trouble begin the tale of this human's life if they were not going to finish it? The man's life had not seemed so strange or odd, there was nothing there to make him think that there was some terrible reason for the story remaining unfinished.

Lupren had been a paladin, a warrior for the Gods and had not cared for distinguishing between them or elevating one above all others. He had loved the Gods equally, acknowledging that each had Their place within the world, that each watched over a different aspect of the lands. He had seemed to believe that worshipping one and neglecting the others was wrong. The young monk could almost believe that he could hear the paladin say "To love Isonia, or Foret, or Darden best is like saying that air is more necessary to survive than water". True you might survive longer without water than without air but still in the end you would die for holding one while denying the other.

He wandered up and down the stacks of scrolls and tomes, searching for the one that might tell him how the life of Lupren had continued. Finally in exhaustion he sat down at his table and laid his weary head upon it as sleep calimed him. In later life he could have sworn that he woke, not properly, but just to a kind of half-awareness in the middle of the night. And if asked the monk would have sworn that he saw a blue cloaked woman walk up to him and set two scrolls down by his side. But when he awoke the woman was gone...but the scroll was truly there.

Unrolling the first scroll his heart leapt, for within were the words that he had been searching for.

The life of Lupren Mortalion, Paladin of the Three

Part II

Long did I search for the crown, hoping that by finding it I would somehow cause peace to once again cover the lands. It was true that I wished only for peace, that I did not care what price that peace might come at. Though I would kneel and say my prayers to all of Them in Their Divine glory, still I knew that if I recovered the crown only one would be able to wear it. One God from three, that would be the price that was paid if the artifact that I had been told about truly did exist. Though I wished the world to return to the joyous times before, when none of the deities were revered above the others, in my heart of hearts I knew that it was not to be. There would be peace, my order would be respected again, but there would only be one God. One God would have Their praises sang eternally while two others would fade away to nothingness, and it would be my burden to bear the guilt of that just as the knowledge of the peace that I would bring lightened the load I would carry.

North and south I searched, east and west, from the highest peaks to the deepest pits, through darkness and light.I listened to the muttering of madmen and the sage counsel of wisewomen the length and breadth of the lands. Rumours and stories I gathered to myself, seeking out the clues that would lead me to where the serpant's lair lay. The ages passed by me as I searched, my youth fled without my notice so caught up was I by the quest that I had set before me. The other knights of the order would avert their gaze from me, thinking me mad to search for something that was only spoken of in stories.

My dark hair was riddled with grey long before I found that final clue, a scarp pf a tale that had been passed on from one generation to another in an old mountain village. They knew of that day long ago when a star had fallen from the sky and of the old man who had found it. However they knew nothing of the three champions of the Gods sent to find what that old man had made from the fallens tar. What they did know though was a story of a snake that made its home in the very roots of the mountains, curling its coils about the dark places in the womb of the earth.

And more of that they knew of a cave that was the supposed entrance to its lair, a place where all the young ones were afraid to go.

Taking up my sword I went down into that cave, sure of my strength and my faith, convinced that this would be the end of my search. The darkness was cloying, unnatural and seemed to almost have a life of its own that almost felt as though it were formed from the sorrow and grief of a thousand lifetimes. Down I travelled, into the very bowels of the earth where strange creatures that have never seen the light of the sun live. And in that dark place I found the serpant's lair, the snake's eyes bright with madness and its scales tightly curled about the artifact that I sought.

Long and hard we fought, each seeking to put an end to the other's life, each consumed by thoughts of the other's death. Who knows how long that fight lasted? Only the Gods Themsleves know the answer to that question for in the darkness time meant nothing. Everytime my strength faltered I would cry out to the Three, trusting that one of Them would see fit to aid me. And each time I cried out strength did indeed seem to flow back into my tired and aching muscles so that I could continue on.

In the end my sword found a soft section of the serpant's underbelly, the steel sliding in between its scales and into the foul creature's heart. It made no sound as it died and I would swear by all that is held holy that as I watched it die the madness seemed to fade from its eyes and the serpant almost appeared to be at peace. I went to extract my blade from the corpse of the beast but as I took up the hilt of it again the metal shattered, leaving me with only the broken remains.

But the crown was mine, what did I care for a broken sword?

A strange speed came upon me as I raced back to the surface with my prize in hand, covered with a rich soft cloth that I had found among the other treasures that the serpant had horded. I did not think it odd that the material had not rotten after all its years in the earth but now as I think back I realise that there was much that I did not realise as I made my way back to the world of light and life. Perhaps if I had noticed that dark little voice in the corner of my mind, the one that whispered to me of all that would be then matters would not have turned out as they have.

In exhaustion I fell into a sleep at the cave's entrance, never hearing the desperate cries of the villagers who had lead me here. It was not until the next day when I awoke and travelled back there that I found out what had happened to them. Not one of those who had lived within the mountain village still lived, all were dead, every human and beast within the place no longer breathed. The terror and the sadness that was etched upon their faces still brings horror to me, but I would have been far more horrified had I known then that their deaths were my fault.

My horse had perished with all the other life of the village, so I was forced to walk, carrying my precious burden before me. I walked from mountain to verdant forest, to the very heart of a nearby realm, never taking my eyes off the covered crown. In silence I walked into the central city of the realm, knowing that unlike many others here the people still could abide those of different religions. Followers of all three Gods lived and worshipped there in peace, content to tolerate the beliefs of others. And followers of all three deities followed me through the city as I made my way to the temple district though they did not know my purpose.

Before the temples of Foret, Isonia and Darden I knelt and uncovered the crown. In a strong voice I declared, Here I hold the Crown of Heavens, forged from a star by a man of purity and faith. The lands of the isle are divided and the innocent die without cause, cut down by their fellows because they choose to worship one God and not another. The isle is in pain, it needs one to pull it together, it needs one to make it whole once more. Here I hold the Crown of Heavens, let the one true God claim it and bring peace to the isle. All at once a great cry went up from the crowd, each urging me to offer the crown to one or other of the Gods. But I ignored their pleas, I had offered the crown to all and foolishly I trusted that only one would be able to claim it.

Bright lights of silver, purple and orange seemed to surround me, spirits in service to each of the Divine. The spirit of silver whispered, "Give the crown to Foret and the innocent shall the never be without justice". The spirit of purple countered its fellow, "Give the crown to Isonia and never shall the innocent shall never be without a sword arm to defend them". And finally the spirit of orange laughed, "Give the crown to Darden and the world shall always change, never stagnating".

The crowd fell to their knees at the sight of the lights, praising the power of the God to whom they had trusted their souls. But then praises turned to anger as brother questioned sister as to why one Gpd should possess the crown and not another. Friends looked at each other with angry eyes and before long blades were drawn and blood was spilt. It was then I knew that my dream of peace was no more than a false hope, in that riot of blood and anger I knew that all was lost.

[center]Thrice Cursed Paladin[/center]

Wed Jun 04, 2003 7:21 am

Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
Posts: 8
Location: Reading, UK
With trembling hands the young monk reached for the second scroll that had been left upon his desk. Would this one finally complete the tale of the paladin's life? Would it explain what had happened to Lupren and the crown that he had fought so hard to retrieve, the artifact for which he had given up his youth? Surely it had to, he did not want to think about how he would feel if even after reading this final piece the puzzle of Lupren's life was still unfinished. He had to know how events had ended, he had to know the last of the story.

The life of Lupren Mortalion, Paladin of the Three

Part III

With bowed head I walked from that city, the crown, once more covered from mortal sight, still in my hands. Behind me I could still hear the screams of those that were dying in that city that had once been a place of peace and understanding. It broke my heart to know that those cries, their pain, were all my fault, that the guilt of it laid firmly upon my shoulders. Had I not brought the crown to this city then the people would still be at peace, untroubled by the fact that their neighbour or their relative worshipped another God. But by bringing the crown here I had unleashed chaos, death had walked with me into that city though I never saw the reaper standing by my side till it was too late.

Just outside the city's walls a river ran, pure and clear, providing clean water to all who lived in the region. I knelt by its banks, my guilt overwhelming me as I realised what I had done. A tear fell from either eye and ran down my cheeks till they dropped from my skin and landed upon the covered crown. As I watched the tears became hard like diamonds, glittering upon the cloth momentarily before the crystallized tears fell into the river.

I did not try to stop them from falling, I knew that they were no longer mine. They were the last tears I ever wept.

Once more I took up the crown and continued my journey, though now I made sure that no one ever looked upon the artifact that I had wasted most of my life in search of. I knew the trouble that it could cause, how the followers of all the Gods would bicker and fight for it. It was my burden to carry now, no God would ever claim it, no deity's temple would ever be glorified by its presence. I would travel on with it, never staying in one place long enough for any to realise what it was that I protected, or who I protected it from.

But it was not long before I realised that even though I hid the crown still trouble and despair seemed to follow in its wake. Everywhere I journeyed sorrow would seem to come with me, all the life of a place would seem to vanish as the crown came into it. Children would be found dead, lovers would murder one another, parents would find their offspring turned against them and skirmishes would break out between once peaceful neighbours. Joy would depart from any town or village that I went to, replaced instead by a deep grief and despair. I feared that it was my doing, that somehow the serpant, that previous guardian of the crown, had cursed me with its dying breath. After all it couldn't be the crown's fault.

Could it?

It had been forged from metal untouched by human hands, not dug from the earth by fallen from the heavens themselves. No mere greedy craftsman had made it, no a man of purity can created it far from the taint of the rest of the lands. How could anything like possible be the cause of the sorrow that descended on everyplace I visited? I laughed at myself for even thinking that it was possible, blinding myself to the truth for as long as I could. I did not want to acknowledge the feeling that I no longer travelled alone, did not want to admit that I saw how the shadows lengthened in the crown's presence. But in the end I could take no more, I could not stand by and watch others die because of my journeying.

I made my mind up to take myself and the crown far from all who lived within the isle to a place deserted and abandoned by most. Somewhere where I could bring no more harm to the land or its peoples, a place where the crown would never be found by any of the so-called faithful of the Gods. So I took to the north coast, to where the bitter winds whip the dark waters into a frenzy of wave and foam. Up there, in the most north-western corner of the lands I found a series of islands, broken segments of land that were cut off from the mainland. With the last of my worldly goods I bought a small boat and set off towards those islands, trusting that I would have enough strength to find one that was suitable.

Here I made my home, in an isle of black stone riddled with passageways that almost seemed to lead into the darkest depths of the lands. Here I shall spend my last hours in prayer and in seeking out a final resting place for the crown. I know now its evil, but I will not speak of it to you good monk, it is best forgotten about. You found me here but you shall be the last. I have told you my tale and now I ask one thing of you monk, bury this tale, hide it away in your library where none shall ever find it.

And tell no one of this isle where you found me.


I found the paladin, Lupren Mortalion, though I shall keep my word and not speak of where I found him. I watched him walk away across that black stone island, into its depths and knew that I was watching a man condemned. He has already decided his own sentance, he shall never see the light of the world again. I only hope that the Gods can give him the absolution for his sins that he cannot give himself.

-Yusef Carfin, monk of Bisbo

But still there were words on the page, below the final script of Yusef, the monk who had written the tale of Lupren so long ago. Words written in another hand, the ink was still dark and almost looked as if it had been written no more than a few hours beforehand. Someone other than Yusef knew the tale of Lupren, but this someone knew what had happened after the monk had left the stone isle.

Pay close attention to my words, for I alone of all living things know the events that took place in the last hours of the paladin's life. He was a good man at heart so do not judge him too harshly, others have already done that, myself included.


He made his way back down into the dark tunnels that ran like a maze beneath the stone island, his peace made with the outside world. In the deepest cavern there he returned to the crown, his eyes growing dark and almost angry as he set his eyes upon it and upon the shadow that stood beside it. For the crown was not all it appeared, the fallen star had long ago been polluted by a spirit, almost an unformed soul of darkness. When the mountain sage had found the star the soul had tainted him, twisting that pure man to its own ends, bringing forth desire and lust within him. It alone made him form the crown for its own purposes, feeding off the dark emotions of the man that it called forth.

It had planned for one of the champions of the Gods to take the crown and offer it up to their deity. Who knows what plans it had once it was in the possession of one of the Three, but I can imagine enough having met the dark soul. However the spirit's plans were thrown off-course when its crown, its connection to the physical world was taken by the serpant. Long years did it spend stuck underground, raging at fate, before Lupren took it into the world once more.

When the crown came into Lupren's possession the spirit was able to return to the isle, wrecking havoc and chaos where ever it went. It caused despair in mortals and fed off their feelings growing stronger with each new sadness that it consumed. But Lupren did not know this, he thought that the troubles that were ccuring were his own fault. When he took the crown beneath the lands once more the spirit cried out in anger and made itself known to him, begging and pleading that he carry it out again. It offered to make all his wishes come true, it promised to make him a glorious king of the lands if only he would submit to its will.

But the paladin would not be swayed to its evil and turned a deaf ear to its wailing. For two days and two nights after the monk of Bisbo left the dark soul by turns tempted and tormented Lupren, seeking to break him. And yet he stayed strong, closing his eyes and remaining in prayer saw out its rage. On the third night, weak from lack of water and food, the paladin knew that he was dying. But he thought that he would die a happy man for the crown and its spirit would remain trapped with his mortal remains. He knew that the gods would call judgement down upon his soul for not giving any of Them the crown but he thought that he could suffer any punishment that they put upon him.

As he closed his eyes to drift off into death, the dark cave became as bright as daylight, shimmering with lights of silver, purple and orange. Voices that were both beautiful and terrifying spoke to him as one, "Traitor", they shouted their displeasure. "You who promised to worship Them have betrayed Them, seeking to take Their power for yourself, seeking to become Their equal. Foolish mortal man".

The light of purple seperated from the others and surrounded Lupren, laying down the Goddess's judgement upon him. "She judges your soul and finds you unworthy, Battlemaiden and Mother, She gives you death for your actions". But no sooner had the words been spoken than the orange light replaced that of the purple saying, "He judges your soul and finds you unworthy, Trickster and Demon, He gives you life for your actions". His body died in according to the judgement of Isonia, but his spirit was caught within life to fulfil the judgement of Darden. Trapped between the words the ghost of Lupren knew that he would never find peace and so awaited Foret's judgement.

Silvery light danced about him, "He judges your woul and find you unworthy, Defender and Judge, He commands that you be forever tormented by that dark spirit that you brought into the world". There was a pause and then the voice spoke once more, "But He is merciful and gives you a chance at salvation if you will take up His cause. there will come a time when the crown will no longer lay here, it will lay beneath a city of white stone, a city of Foret. One among that city's number will lose faith, usher that soul back to Foret's care and you shall be forgiven".


That is the tale of Lupren Mortalion's last hours and of the death that came upon him. His spirit still walks the lands, for he failed at his chance for salvation many ages past. But that is another tale and if you wish to hear of it then there are many that must be sought out to give the telling of it. I have played my part, I have finished the story of his life.

May you realise where knowledge truly hides,

A teller of tales, a weaver of stories.

[center]Thrice Cursed Paladin[/center]

Thu Jun 05, 2003 6:35 am
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