Mega Story II: The Unfreezing

[Dean_the_Young]

Mouar Esirce watched as another vessel returned to the docks. To call it a ship, or even a boat, was a disgrace to the memory of all such craft that the Grigori had once mastered. To call the little coastal strip a port was an equal offense of scale.

Even so, she could help herself as she hurried to the docks. It was a rare time of good news: for years, the ice had been ever present up to the coast, but now, for the first time, the ice was beyond the horizon...

Grigori lands were sparse in crops and animals, a holdover from the Citadel of Trial's geography and history. As an island, animals were less common than on the mainland, and during the Stasis much of what had remained had been hunted to extinction. And agriculturally, the influence of the Hell Terrain...

It had been both a blessing and a curse. The Hell Caves underneath the citadel heated the land, made it usable at all. But the same effect made crops so much harder, more difficult to grow. It was as growing crops on the steepe: enough to survive, but never enough to satisfy.

And so the Grigori turned towards the sea, and the fruits thereof. History was replete with experiences of their kind: peoples who, unable to produce food in the marginal lands at home, turned to the seas for food, for trade. To date, only small catches of fish and seaweed had been recovered. But with careful management, her efforts had harvested enough wood from the forests to build a dedicated naval ship, able to go further and pull in more than the rest, to create an entire fishing village if possible.

The fishing boat was being unloaded as she arrived, and the captain greeted her warmly. She was the patron, after all, one who had thrown considerable diplomatic capital and personal risk into this voyage. If it failed, if a fishing village were to succumb-

But the captain was smiling.

"Lady Mouar," he greeted warmly.

"Captain," she returned, and then proceeded promptly to business. "Do you have news of success?"

"See for yourself," he offered, gesturing to the crates his men were unloading.

Mouar did, and was surprised at the return. Fish, clams, so much food...

"The poor will eat a good meal for once, now that this will bring down prices," she noted.

The captain nodded. "Rich yields, ma'am. Just as you said, there is land across the straight."

"Did you-" Mouar began, but the Captain shook his head.

"Couldn't send out a real scouting party," he explained. "No clue just how close, or far, from the continent we are. But we left the start of a fishing village on a small island of the coast: good fishing grounds there, but good to see around. In fact," he leaned forward, unwilling to speak publicly.

"We were following what looked to possibly be a large school of fish, and one of the men said they saw something in the distance. Smoke. It could have been natural, but-"

Natural fire, even in the twilight of Auric's Stasis, was a joke.

 

[readercolin]

The Dural Emerge

Spoiler :

The ice was slowly creeping back, and the land underneath slowly emerging. The people, who remembered themselves as the Dural, slowly emerged from their caves. Few remembered the great cities that they had built, none remembered how they had been built. But they did remember one thing - peace lasts only as long as others are willing to leave you alone, and no one, ever, leaves anyone in peace.

This time, instead of machines of construction, would be built machines of war. This time, instead of the magics of creation, would be the magics of destruction. This time, the creativeness of the Dural would develop new ways of WAR. Only once their borders were secured would they be able to rest, and look once again at creation, not destruction. But never again would the Dural let their guard down.

 

[Diamondeye]

What Happened to The Calabim:

Queen Alexis was trialed and found guilty of treason towards the Overcouncil and the Calabim Empire. From his sickbed, Flauros could not intervene, and the Calabim Queen was decapitated by the Bannor executioners. Alexis' execution did not go by smoothly, for a stranger intervened and apparently mocked the Queen, causing her to lose any remaining self-control. She was executed immidiately thereafter, and the stranger miraculously escaped; he seemed favoured by Esus.

Shortly after Alexis' demise, Flauros was attacked by another assassin, this time succesfully. The Calabim and the Grigori wept side by side as the brave man who had reformed the Vampires and brought the Calabim back from the service of infernals died.

The Calabim suffered heavily from the deaths of their leaders, and were almost wiped out during the second Age of Ice. What few survivors were left had returned to the Blooded Vampirism of their former time, and were led by a ruthless woman by the name of Losha Valas.

But other fractions of the splintered nation were to be found, strewn across the slowly waking land of Mazera. Somewhere far from all civilization, Katakien dragged his sundered body towards where he knew the Sheaim remnants had to live, supporting himself with a very special sword.

And a single reformed Vampire, Comillo, the champion of the Calabim and later one of the Grigori adventurers of fame, dug himself from a collapsed dungeon, once a magnificent magi's tower's cellair. He had been trapped when the Tower of Alteration collapsed and had only stayed alive by feeding on the blood of the angel, Onsted Hastil. Cleansed beyond even the Succellean Vampires by this divine aether, a radiating aura surrounds Comillo as he makes his way into the reborn world. He has seen for himself in the ruins the dead body of Flauros and is now prowling the surface of the world in search of any surviving Calabim or Grigori that may remember him...

 

[cypher132]

Just a little update for some civs.

Spoiler :

Doviello workers pounded away with their hammers, adding more and more wood to the ever growing harbor of Portsholme, the new Doviello capitol. The workers had begun pulling crabs and clams from the waters and the first of the new generation of ships began construction. Zerenthal, leader of this new Doviello tribe, watched his men slave away, reinforcing the docks and hammering at the galleys. Zerenthal smiled slightly and thought of the carnage of war as the Doviello tribe slowly grows and begins to move into a blood frenzy.
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Alessea looked about the trees of her Evergreen, the new Ljosalfar capitol. They had constructed their camp among the trees and had begun fashioning permanent homes for the elves to live in. Scouts sent out into the wilds have found wild life beginning to flourish again and have seen no sign of the Svartalfar. Yet. Alessea walked amongst the youngest of the elves, playing with sticks and rocks as if they were the greatest toys in the world. The Fellowship would begin anew here and would sweep this shattered land.

 

[Diamondeye]

Losha Valas sat alone in her throne room. It was nowhere near the standards before the Age of Ice, but still a most elegant construction compared to those around it. Had one looked inside the room, one would have barely noticed the man standing opposite her, more part of the shadowy murk than an actual figure.

Goetia spoke: "Remember, Queen Valas, your people have strayed from the path of Esus once and it was almost their downfall. Only by returning to their subtle patron did they find hiding for the cold of Auric's winter. Need I remind you the words that I whispered to the the dying Queen Alexis? Need I show you my knife, still tainted with the blood of Flauros? You will keep on the path that He has struck, or you will fail to never rise again. With these words, I take my leave, but do not doubt that I will always be watching you from the shadows."

The shadowy figure melted into the darkness. Valas sat, now completely alone. She would not fail her people where Alexis and Flauros had. She would not stray from Esus' path.

 

[Dean_the_Young]

"Where is the head of Cassiel?"

It's a question more and more people are being asked. Barbarian clansmen, emerging from the tundra, are increasingly coming not for war but to ask that one question. Many of them do not even know who Cassiel even is, was. More enlightened tribes, those with histories tracing before the Stasis, have their own fragments: Cassiel, Angel who Fell not to Hell but to Creation. Stolen and made sacrifice for Auric's ascension.

Tales diverge. Histories mingle. But some legends of the end of the last age remain: that Cassiel's body was not destroyed, but divided. The corpse, retaining it's angelic nature, retained great power to those who would replace their own limb with his. The Eye of Cassiel, said to give the seer great insights into the minds of others. The Hand of Cassiel, replacing the old limb and giving perfect balance and control of every motion. These remains were harvested and used by the Illians, granting Auric's greatest priest-generals great power.

But now, someone is looking for the Head. The possibilities of power... if a single Eye can grant insight and see Truth, if a Hand can give a swordsman perfect control over his blade, just imagine what the mind, the Head, of Cassiel might grant?

That someone is impressing, dominating, wayward tribes of savages to look for the remains of Cassiel. Savages wander the lands, the ruins of old. Some now even approach the crumbled tower of a metropolis of old, the magic still so strong that it resonates in men's bones.

Someone wants the Head of Cassiel very much. Will you stand by, or will you turn your eyes to it as well?

 

[Diamondeye]

@Cypher: I only wanted to nudge the Calabim in the direction I figured they were going. I will only be playing Comillo although I will certainly write some other stories now and then.

"In here, I sense it: Angelic presence!"
The nomads stopped as their shaman moved forward another pace. He sniffed the air expectantly. "Not only Angelic presence... This place hold great magic. Let us take what we can find."
The tribal nomads sifted through the ruins, their weapons at the ready. The old Mazera had been a harsh place and things had not grown better with the coming of the Great Winter. It was always advisable to keep your weapon handy.
A yelp from one of the men quickly attracted the others, and they rushed towards him to surround whatever foe has surprised him.

Comillo looked around at the beastlike men who stood around him in a half-circle, clubs anda simple axes at the ready. He had himself no weapon, having just barely freed himself from the ruins and wreckage. He could feel the cold air against his bare torso, but somehow it did not chill him.

"Angel!", snapped the shaman. "You're an angel!"
Comillo looked at him with wondering eyes. He looked down at himself; a pale-skinned adventurer in ragged clothes, then looked back up on the face of the shaman, who was visibly taken aback by angst.

To the shaman - and the other nomads - Comillo was anything but an ordinary Calabim. Extended from his back were two light, feathered wings, drenched in ruby-red blood dripping from their tips. Behind his eyes, a strange fire burnt, and his hair, having grown long, fell like a black drape from his head, cloaking his face but the eyes alight. They stood like this for a moment until Comillo tryingly stepped a pace towards the shaman. With a gasp, the tribesmen turned and ran, one and all. Comillo looked around in confusion at the ruins of the Tower.

Angelic Presence?
Several tribes speak of an angelic presence that wanders the otherwise scarcely populated island just off the Nortek/Cualli coast, close to the Lanun and Grigori islands.

 

[Valkrionn]

Is Comillo not a Grigori adventurer who left the Calabim because of their practices? How is he suddenly part of them again?

 

[Dean_the_Young]

Is Comillo not a Grigori adventurer who left the Calabim because of their practices? How is he suddenly part of them again?

Spoiler Answer :

In Mazera (the pre-story), Flauros was on a quest to reform the Calabim after being betrayed by demon-worshipers of the Ashen Veil. Comillo was once one of them, but was later exiled when Flauros returned, went on a redemption quest, and was in good!Flauros' confidence afterwards.

 

[Diamondeye]

OOC: Valkrionn: Yes, Comillo is a Grigori adventurer (or was in the first Mazera). He left the Calabim armies and became Grigori. But I figure the Age of Ice pretty much wiped out all such allegiances and major societies, so he's left out in the wilderness, in the vague vicinity of the Grigori. He is not part of any nation.

 

[lemonjelly]

Auric, God of Ice

Spoiler :

“There was once a time where giant crystals of immense power grew from the very earth. Those gifted in the Arcane Arts could draw their energies from these, and cast powerful magic, because these so-called mana crystals were where streams of the ever-present energies of the gods collected. When Auric ascended, the balance of this power shifted, and these crystals transmuted, I know, for I was there. The cold was slowly spreading anyway, and all the mages felt their powers changing. I felt the arcane energies of the gods change, as the sphere of Ice spread through these ancient leys. The Mage Guild was worried, they all collected around these beacons of hope, for the mana crystals were the only links we had to the other spheres. And, there was a way to amplify this energy, and we did it, we purified the crystal and channelled it, and for a while we thought we could hide away from the Ice Age, but one day the cold hand of Auric was noticed again, and, slowly, the node of Life that we had purified shifted and changed, it grew cold, colder than the wastelands we now inhabited. And, as the snow settled around the node that Auric had somehow converted, we fled, we ran until we found this cave, and we mages didn’t dare touch its energies, for Auric was possibly the most powerful being in existence at that moment. The Amurites and what remained of the Elohim lived in this cave for years, until Auric’s warriors came to drag our souls into the frozen waste of hell, and while we fought, we evacuated as many people as possible. The Amurites crossed the river, and we didn’t have any contact with them for almost 20 years.”​

The Crystal of Light

Spoiler :

The Elohim had been busy in the Age of Ice, writing down the legends passed down, collecting the knowledge of the elders, and sending out parties to collect relics from the many ruins scattered around the city. Now, the Citadel of Light had been partially rebuilt, and the families had started moving their belongings into the Grand Hall. Each family had a job to fulfil in this new world, from the priests and priestesses to the mages, the artists and philosophers, masons and carpenters. Slowly but surely, the scaffolding went up, the stones were laid, and the Cavern Lacunus was evacuated. Plans were drawn up for two new buildings, each built into the walls of the Cavern Lacunus and ornately decorated, with lush gardens surrounding them. These would be called the College of Sirona and the Temple of Rays. Already, a group of volunteers had started building the pieces of these complexes that were to be in the Cavern Lacunus.

Ethessa was sitting alone in the meadow outside the Citadel of Light. She watched the green waves of grass float in the gentle breeze coming from the way of the Amurites, and her thoughts drifted. There were legends of a mighty people who could see into a green sea of arcane energies. There were a people that didn’t worship any religion, and those that saw the good in all divinities. There were the brave Bannor, who had escaped from hell itself, the majestic elves, sitting regally in their forested cities. She wondered whether any of these grand civilizations had survived the age. There was one way to be sure, to travel throughout the world, and find these people, but she couldn’t she wouldn’t leave, not yet, not until her family was safe, and until then, she could study hard under the mages and the priests, and she could practise her few hobbies, and try to bring a little bit of beauty into the Citadel.

So, Ethessa walked off into a secluded grove. She lay out her belongings, and tried to remember. A memory floated to the front of her mind. Ethessa focussed, channelling the energy that was part of her. She felt the energy drain from her body, and watched through the haze of arcane power as the colours from the grove around her collected together and fixed themselves onto a little pool of water. Slowly the colours spread through the liquid, then, a single word passed Ethessa’s lips, and the pool of water froze in place. Ethessa was near to collapsing from energy loss, but she opened herself up to the mana in the air. It spread through her body, restoring the majority of her energy. And then, slowly, she lifted the crystalline structure out of the ground, draining more of her energy. And, the crystal rested on the floor, and Ethessa examined her work. It was a crystalline structure, at first sight it was clear, with flickers of blue in the centre, but as rays of sunlight hit it, the blue flickers spread through the crystal, growing and changing colour, glowing, spreading their light through the grove, blues and purples, greens and yellows, oranges and reds. Ethessa walked away, letting the people who were working on the Citadel of Light to discover it.

She walked down the slope, and slipped into the Cavern Lacunus and walked past the Lacunus. Her mind brushed against the raw energy the crystal was radiating, and she walked into a small cave to the back of the Cavern Lacunus. In the cave, there was just a small book, and a pool of pure water. On the wall was an ornate engraving of the Goddess of Wisdom. She kneeled under the engraving, and prayed. As she prayed, the water glowed, and a pure white angel materialised behind the young girl. And, as Ethessa stood up, the angel vanished, leaving just the feeling of heavenly peace in her wake.

 

[Zugvogel]

Legacy of the golden dragon - Kwythellar

Spoiler :

Taryl of Twelfth was on the march, or to be more precise and accurate towards his way of movement: He was on the waddle. It was not his fault, exactly: He was a ferret. One of the two-legged kind, of course, but still there was only one way of walking when you weren’t taller than 1.20 meters and had legs as crooked as a sabre. All in all, to send Taryl of Twelfth anywhere further than a few miles from his guard post seemed a stupid idea. But then again, Ferrets had always been part of the eyes and ears of the Kwythellar City Guard, ever since the loosely allied tribes of the Ferret, formerly being part of the Kuriotate Empire only by name, had been forced to abandon their holdings to the severe blizzards and flee to the great city. There, in the warming aura of the Golden Dragon, civilization and ferretkind had survived. Just as had many other species. Lamia, Centaurs, Humans and so on. A bit of each and every culture once unified under the banner of the boy king, though of course neither as diverse nor as magnificient as they once, even in the dark age of war against the Sheaim warlocks, had been.
But of course, Taryl didn’t know much about history. He had been born in the city, like almost all Kuriotate, no matter to which species they belonged. 150 years had passed, two entire generations had lived and died within the walls of the inhabitable core districts of Kwythellar were Eurabatres had warmed and protected them, even though it had cost him all his power and almost his life.Now he lay in a deep slumber in a great palace-like temple, formerly the Office for Foreign Affairs.
But now, Aurics firm grip on the world seemed to be waning. The land was warming, slow but steady. The Kuriotate had reclaimed almost all areas of their once sprawling metropolis, excluding the harbour which had been severely damged. And now, for the first time in centuries, a scouting party was leaving the town. A group that consisted of the best the City Guard (which was pretty much all that was left of the Kuriotate military) could muster. Ferret and human scouts, Centaur warriors and even a Lamia mage. They would see for themselves what lay beyond the horizon. And Taryl of Twelth was among them, on the march northwards.


Lessuri Relassi watched the explorers leave. Brave men and women, leaving the city that had been their home for over a generation and facing something only old songs still told about: The outside world. Not that Lessuri had anymore insight on what they would face than the scouts themselves, though he had carefully studied all the lore of the land the (admittedly rag-tag) archives of Kwythellar had to offer. The Lamia mage leaving with the group was his nephew. And though the Kuriotate administration and the ruler himself were astonishingly resistant to all temptations of Mammon, Lessuri didn’t think it going astray from the noble example of Lorda if he helped his relative. As little help as he had been able to provide.
There was only one person still left in Kwythellar that actually remembered the world yonder the city boarders and Lorda had not been very loquacious on the topic. The only thing his majesty had told them was that he suspected from his experiences (which after all dated back all the way to the first age of ice) that the retreating glaciers would have changed the countryside once and for all.
Then again, Cardith Lorda proved a source for constant mysteries in any case, whether talkative or not. He was no longer the boy king the legends told about. He had begun to age, reportedly shortly after the creation of the great dragon. It was a slow process, but eventually the new age had found him no longer as a boy but as a handsome young man with long, brown hair. The only thing that was still definitely similar to the Cardith of legends was his unquestionable wisdom. A trait, the Lamia mage and politician Lessuri both envied and admired most in the King.

 

[cypher132]

Here is the Fall of Corane. It's not the greatest, but I hope it's enough. Enjoy.

Spoiler :

Corane looked around before turning to Aldrick, his body guard for the night. He was spending the night with Faeryl, planning the attack on the Hippus, speaking of the state of their nations, and most likely making love several times. "Aldrick, I need you to stand at the door tonight. No one comes in, understand?" Aldrick nodded. "The same as usual, sir. Guard the bedchambers, kill any who try to enter." Corane grinned and heard his name being called. He turned in the direction of the voice and saw Faeryl Viconia, the Queen of the Svartalfar elves, a cunning and shrewd negotiator, and a killer in bed.
"Come, Corane. We have much to speak of. There have been developments." Corane noticed the seriousness in her voice and hurried into the room. Aldrick watched him go, watched the door close, and stood with his back to it, watching everyone who walked by. Inside the room, Faeryl sat in a chair at an oaken table and beckoned for Corane to sit. Corane picked up a goblet of wine left out for him and took his place at the table. "What has happened?"
Faeryl nodded and picked up some parchment. "The Hippus under the command of King Alexander have started pushing into our eastern flank and is dangerously close to reaching my capitol. What is the Archos plan for the Hippus or do you even have a plan at all?" Corane noticed she seemed aggressive about this, most likely believing he was trying to betray her. "We do have a plan. Our spiders have already infiltrated several Hippus cities and have begun building. They should be ready to start an attack within a few days."
Faeryl looked at Corane sternly. "In a few days, I may not have a capitol. I need the Archos to act now to distract them from their assault." Corane pulled up a map and looked at it carefully. "I have a small swarm of spiders southwest of the Hippus position. I can assault them at night and hopefully cripple their attempts." Faeryl smiled and stood. "Good. Now, we have..Other things to discuss."

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Aldrick stood by the throne as Corane listened to another citizen beg for help from the Archos government. Corane glared at them as they spoke, causing them to stutter and slip up their words. Aldrick whispered in Corane's ear, "Sir, this request is ridiculous. We don't have enough money to help every person who comes in here begging for assistance." Corane nodded and addressed his second-in-command, Agnir. "Agnir, get this..Thing out of my throne room. I grow weary of its begging." Agnir nodded and dragged the crying and pleading citizen out of the throne room.
Corane sighed angrily and slouched back in his throne. He had been listening to pleas all day, not hearing them all and blanking out for many. His focus was distracted. Out of the corners of his eyes he would see darting shadows, strange figures, and hear clicks and noises. He ordered his men to check every time, but they insisted that there was nothing there, some even claiming to have not seen or heard anything to begin with. Those men were put to death for their lack of attention on the job.
Corane wiped the sweat off his brow and reached for his water flask. He had been sweating since he woke up, nervous about the moving shadows and noises. Aldrick had assisted in getting Corane to the throne room, but Corane's attention was always somewhere else, his mind slipping away to different thoughts and sometimes feeling not all his own. The mana stones in his spine had been burning slightly all day and it had intensified as they day wore on. It was a barely noticeable pain, but he could always sense it was there.
"Sir? Are you not feeling well?" Corane looked up and saw Aldrick standing in front of him with a concerned look on his face. "No, no. I'm fine. I'm just tired of hearing people beg. It's tiresome. Ask them what they're here for before letting them in and whip the ones who are here to beg." Aldrick nodded and headed off into a side hallway to fill out the order. Corane took a drink of water and jerked his head to the left as a shadow moved. There was nothing there, of course, but Corane still felt there was.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The room Corane sat in was dark, so dark he couldn't see anything around him. He could hear a dripping sound and screams regularly emanated from..It seemed everywhere. He kept seeing a ghastly face that yelled at him in another language, seemingly ordering him to do his bidding. He clapped his hands over his hears and shut his eyes. He grit his teeth and tried to block out the voice and screams, but they continued to assault his mind. He growled at first and soon it became a scream. He opened his and swung his fist at the face, but it hit nothing. He looked around and he was sitting in his throne room.
The room was empty and there was no sign of the face or the dripping sound. No screams or ghastly languages. Corane rubbed his eyes and looked around warily. He could've sworn he had just seen that face, heard the screams that seemed to rake on his very sanity. He stood from his throne and stumbled to the center of the room. He fell to his hands and knees and tried to draw breath, but it was so hard. He fell to his side and drew a short breath before everything went dark.

Corane sat up quickly. He found himself in his bed chambers, lying in his bed and Aldrick standing at the door way. Aldrick stepped forward. "Sir? I found you lying in the throne room and brought you to your room. Are you feeling well?" Corane looked around the room and saw that everything was as it should be. He tried to remember getting here, tried to remember Aldrick finding him but could find no recollection of the event. "Yes. I'm fine now."
"Are you sure, sir? You looked very pale and sick when I found you. You are lucky it was I who found you and not a guardsman. That wouldn't have looked good. What were you doing on the ground?" Corane rubbed his eyes and tried to thing back. He couldn't remember. All he could remember was a dark room with a ghastly face, then waking up in his bed. "I don't know. I feel fine now, though. There is no need to worry." Aldrick nodded and walked out of the room. Corane sighed, then jerked suddenly as a shadow slipped by him.

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Corane was once again sitting in his throne room. Aldrick stood at his side, carefully watching to make sure his lord was ok. Corane looked out through the throne room doors and could see the people standing outside, waiting to come in and beg. He thought he had told Aldrick to take care of that, but perhaps in his recent state he simply imagined it. A beggar came forth and fell to one knee in front of him. Corane looked at this beggar and couldn't help but feel as if something were different about it. He looked to Aldrick to say something, before a sharp pain blasted from his chest.

Corane was later found, in an abandoned ruin, particularly in the old throne room. He had been missing for days. His people had been worried and searched for their lord. When he was found, he was still sitting in the old throne, a self-inflicted wound in his chest. It was a dagger, thrust into his heart, his hand still holding it strongly. Agnir stood over his fallen lord before seeing him draw breath. He fell close to his lord and listened to his last words, "Where was Aldrick?" before he coughed up blood and died. Agnir looked around skeptically, having never heard that name in his life.

 

[Kyzarc Fotjage]

Sorry about not writing. All my classes seemed hellbent on giving tests and papers at the same time. Hopefully I'll be able to write more often now
An excerpt from the Lawrence's journal

Spoiler :

There was shouting in the streets today; Ghazi and the warband were returning. The last of the free tribes had joined the League, guaranteeing our control over this area. But the prisoners, what to do with them? They should be returned to their tribes, it would help build ties between the tribes and show how compassionate our lord Lugus is. However Malik disagreed; he said that it could be perceived as a sign of weakness, that they should be used as labor. Show the tribes what happens to individual tribes and they would see the wisdom of uniting. Malik was right, he was always right. The Messenger of God couldn’t be wrong. Lugus and his Messenger were to be obeyed, they know better than us mere mortals.
Priests would need to be sent to these new members of the League, to explain the wiseness of accepting me as their prophet. Lugus would shine over them, granting them prosperity and wisdom, like how he shines over the other members of the League. The Lightbringers have scattered like leaves, bringing knowledge of Lugus to all they meet. Some goblins have tried attacking these messengers, but they were soon taught the error in their ways.
But now where? Rumors have come of savage beastmen far to the southeast, and more civilized ones much closer to the southwest. Scouting parties would have to be formed and sent to confirm this and more warriors in case their nature shows through. Some people have been clamoring for the construction of palisades around the more southerly villages but no one could be foolish enough to cross the Mash’al to fight us, for we are the Mash’al. I only hope that this isn’t foolish pride.
A strange taint seems to have appeared on the Mirror’s otherwise pure surface, but whenever I’ve tried to find its source it has escaped my grasp. Something is definitely wrong. If even the Mirror, our only real connection to Lugus, can be corrupted then there is surely no hope. I must find the source of this, no matter the cost.
On a related note I still haven't found out why noone else can see Malik, his claim that only a true prophet can see him seems slightly flimsy. Reminds me of a tale my sister once told me of way back when Patrick ruled the world, when the emperor got new clothes.

 

[thomas.berubeg]

Sorry about not writing. All my classes seemed hellbent on giving tests and papers at the same time. Hopefully I'll be able to write more often now

Same. my last midterm is on wedsday, though, so I hope to write some then

 

[cypher132]

Don't worry. This one is slower-paced since not everyone can write every day. Plus, some people don't always have ideas to write about. Gives more time for those people (Me).

 

[Dean_the_Young]

It's not like we've had a real world update in a week and a half or anything, after all.

 

[lemonjelly]

It's not like we've had a real world update in a week and a half or anything, after all.

You should be looking at cypher132 there, but sorry for the lack of map updates. I'll try to upload an updated one soon

 

[Dean_the_Young]

But... you could have written one in the same space you said to blame cypher. It's not hard; consider.


---

Disappearances in Coastal Settlements

A rash of disappearances have affected coastal settlements boardering the Middle Ocean. Animals, children, even small outposts have disappeared, with only brief evidence of struggle and ominous dragging marks toward the sea.

Civilians are advised to be careful, and city garrisons to watch the icy coasts, lest these disappearances escalate into a serious danger. Of course, those who are pushing their garrisons to expand the frontiers may have other priorities...

 

[lemonjelly]

World Update!​

The Citadel Is Finished
A tribe known as the Elohim have just finished repairing the once-mighty Citadel of Light. Work has already started on the College of Sirona and the Temple of Rays.

Amurites Successfully Decode Ancient Writings
The Amurites have recently celebrated a massive feat, they have decoded one of the ancient Books of Lorelei, a set of six scrolls that are reported to contain the secrets of a mysterious Ether, Necromancy, Elementalism, Divination Alteration and Sorcery. The Mages have written up the ancient first book and are spreading it around the encampments of the Amurite lands, spreading the Knowlege of the Ether.

The Light Of Lugus
All tribes in the great desert where the Malakim live have converted to Lugus. The deserts now shine with light from the Mirror of Heaven, and the priests have noted that the light shines strongest at Midday, when the temples are full of worshippers.

Grand Tree Found
The Convenant of the Moon have founded their capital city, around an ancient tree which has probably been standing since the first age. Shadows and light seem especially seperated under the canopy of this gnarled old tree, giving the whole city a contrast between bright sunlight and deep shadows.