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Random Stories and Fragments

Discussion in 'Fall from Heaven Lore' started by KillerClowns, Jun 29, 2008.

  1. Ekolite

    Ekolite Deity

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    Errrr Magister, these stories were written for a FFH based forum game, which is set in a kind of alternate FFH world, some things are different some are the same, but the calabim are very different. In that world, this is true. I was hoping to portray that with, you know, the fact that Alexis saw it in her dream and remembered seeing the events and all that.

    Still, thanks for the comments!
     
  2. Tyrs

    Tyrs King

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    Northern Virgina
    Heh, yeah, the forum game kinda uses FFH minus almost all the evil. *sigh*
     
  3. Avahz Darkwood

    Avahz Darkwood Emperor

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    Behind You!!!!
    Keep it up you all, I like reading all the different interpritations... Lore be damned ;)
     
  4. Kael

    Kael Deity

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    Yeap, variety is good. Besides, how can any story thats starts "Alexis stood naked..." be bad?
     
  5. Sofista

    Sofista Emperor

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    Add pictures = instant classic. ;)
     
  6. MacGyverInSpace

    MacGyverInSpace Monarch

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    a.k.a. a.a.5, toasters. . . .
    For page 6: You know, I think a druid would give an angel enough xp to go seraph...
     
  7. Ekolite

    Ekolite Deity

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    The latest stories in the Calabim Series are up in my thread (follow the link in my sig), leave a comment! :D
     
  8. TheJopa

    TheJopa Šumar

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    Croatia
    From the same game:
     
  9. KillerClowns

    KillerClowns Emperor

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    I've been meaning to post this for a while, but just recently remembered to do so.

    Spoiler :
    Commander Aston readied himself. The legions of the Bannor had faced many evils, but few matched the man he was about to meet. Few survived an encounter with General Maestro, and those who did found him so terrifying they spoke of him only hesitantly. And now, he was to meet with the man... if indeed, he was still human. Some stunt to silence the damnable Empyrean.

    They'd agreed to meet on neutral ground, in what had once been a roadside tavern, each bringing an impressive guard, as well as the Empyrean forces watching over both. Aston was more expendable then Maestro. He knew this, and was willing to die. Indeed, he hoped Maestro would attempt betrayal, silencing the Empyrean and allowing his men a chance to kill the fiend.

    “Welcome, welcome, welcome!” Maestro said. A young, boyishly handsome man save for a few scars that more accentuated then diminished his appearance. “Now, then, do have a seat! I managed to get some wine off the Balseraphs, excellent stuff! Mass slaughter is thirsty work!” “Water, thank you,” Aston said. Maestro took a swig of the wine himself. “No sense of fun, eh? Always so dour, so dull. Tell me, did you have any friends or family in Domus Novus?” Aston remained silent. “Fides? Judicum? Pactum? Re Vera? No, none of them? In that case, why do you hate me so?” Aston refused to give the madman an answer. “Oh, of course! You had family in Vis Vires, didn't you! I lose track of how many cities I've annihilated. Terribly sorry. Somebody else keeps the records, you see, and I have terrible memory. After a while, they all sort of look the same.” Maestro's cheerful demeanor bothered Aston. “Well, since you aren't much of a conversationalist, care if I tell you my life story? I think I'll publish it. I used to be a Balseraph, you see, but apparently, even they frown on the mass sacrifice of several hundred innocents. And to think, the Overlords didn't even accept them! Oh, sure, the sacrifices were obtained by killing everyone at their temple, but a sacrifice is still a sacrifice, wouldn't you agree? Apparently the Overlords didn't. Really, really, do have some wine! I went through a lot of trouble to get this! Good year, good year!”

    Aston decided he'd have to speak sooner or later, and now seemed a good time. “You are completely insane. You know why I hate you? You represent madness, cruelty, sadism...” “Oh, no no, not sadism! I just kill people! Torture is so... messy. And really, you don't get anything out of it. Nah, I just skip straight to the slitting throats.” “How benevolent of you.” “Thank you.” Aston wasn't sure if Maestro had noticed the sarcasm or not, but decided not to bother. Instead, he tried a different tactic. “You have slaughtered more people than you can count, and what excuse do you have for it?” “Well, seeing as I'm working for a pair of omnicidal maniacs on a dying world, it really doesn't really matter, does it? Kill 'em all, no regrets, we're all dying anyways!” “Omnicidal?” Aston said. He pieced together the Patrian roots... “Killing everything?” “Oh, did I just say that out loud? Whoops. Well. This is kind of awkward. Yeah. So, uh, y'know, let's just pretend I didn't say that, right. Because the Sheaim empire is about unlocking ancient arcane secrets for the betterment of mankind, not annihilating the entire world in an apocalyptic furnace, right? Yeah. Heh heh. I was joking about the omnicide thing. Forget I ever said it.”

    The Empyrean guardsmen looked nervously at each other. Apparently, they had no intention of forgetting what they'd heard. “Look, let's be realistic,” Maestro said. “Know why you hate me? I represent freedom. The freedom to do as you will, damn society, damn the consequences. Damn them all! I want sex, I get me a whore, willing or otherwise. I want money, I take it from the weak. Bored? I kill people nobody will miss. There's a lot of people nobody will miss in this world. You see, that's what I love about you Empyrean gentlemen, you're all for liberty!” Maestro's attempt to ingratiate himself with the Empyrean, naturally, failed. The guardsmen, already nervous, seemed ready to strike at a moments' notice

    “You know what? This is really boring. Commander Aston, you bore me. I was expecting a raving, fire-and-brimstone Junil follower, ready to scream about how damned I was, then I was going to go into a speech about how you were not so different from me, then point out how many people the Order has killed and congratulate you for your achievements. But no, you had to be all sane, silent, and stoic on me, didn't you? Where's the fury of the Bannor?” “We save it for the battlefield.”

    “Ah, this is going nowhere. Why aren't you ranting about the glory of Junil, anyways? Not a single accusation of heresy, anarchism, independent thought, or anything else you punish with torture and death.” Religion was a soft spot for Aston, but not for the reasons Maestro had assumed. “I don't particularly care for the gods. I serve Junil's purposes: law, order, peace, and goodness. But we have some disagreements. I follow the laws of the Bannor, and would give my life for my people, and for the good of humanity as a whole, but not for any god.” “An atheist Bannor? You're supposed to be a frothing, militaristic, fanatical, kill-em-all berserker, and instead, you're just some old general with an obnoxious respect for human life.”

    Maestro thought for a second, before saying, “You know what? You want to kill me. I want to kill you. Our men hold similar sentiments. What say we end this farce and get back to the fun?” “Is war your idea of fun?” “Why, yes,” Maestro said without hesitation. Aston thought about it for a moment. War was not fun. War was sending good men off to suffer and die because nobles or gods had philosophical disagreements. War was hell. But he had to admit, the lunatic had a good idea. “So, we agree. Let's just leave now and return to battle.” The Empyrean representatives looked shocked. Aston, doing his best not to grin, said, “you said you'd leave us be when we came to an agreement. We've agreed to war.” They briefly conversed, and then, with a sigh, nodded. “Good, good. You can leave. But I think we need to warm up first. Help these gentlemen forget what they heard.” Maestro smiled and looked at the Empyrean's agents. Aston and his bodyguard quietly slipped out before the bloodshed commenced.

    [Maestro comes from a few sources, many of which doubtless inspired each other. Mr. Teatime of Discworld, the Joker, especially his Dark Knight version, and as you may have guessed by his name, The Master from Doctor Who. I grant that the Sheaim would employ few individuals as insatiably insane as Maestro, but if they're competent... Astron, meanwhile, is pretty typical for my vision of the Bannor. I've never liked the depiction of the Bannor and Order as raving fanatics; they seem far more complicated than that.]
     
  10. Micky Onimusha

    Micky Onimusha Prince

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    This is my first time delving into this thread. Have only gotten to page two so far but it's made for quite a fascinating read. I particularly liked the Balseraph story in the opening post, particularly the last section on the Balseraph family. Also, being a big Balseraph fan, I did love the little snippet of them killing a Unicorn and just thinking of it as meat with a cool looking trinket on its head.

    The two Mage stories intrigued me as well. Portrayals of magic vary, but I like the way they were portrayed. Saw different sides of Mages. The enthusiastic young one intent on being a Battle-mage burning himself out quickly and an experienced mage whose compassion has departed after many battles. And of course, the Necromancer, who I presume to be an example of one of the stronger Mages out there (considering he took out a dozen or so Elohim Monks on his own).

    Fun thread, I like :):goodjob:

    Also, KillerClowns, I like those 'pedia entries ^^
     
  11. Ekolite

    Ekolite Deity

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    Could anyone make a kind of catalogue to be posted in the OP? There are some really awesome stories lost in this thread...
     
  12. thewyrm

    thewyrm Ambassador to Real Life

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    KC is pretty much the "editor" of this short story collection, so I guess that would be his call.
     
  13. thewyrm

    thewyrm Ambassador to Real Life

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    Hey KC. You are so gonna owe us a "canon" story of the scenario you wrote the intro to on the 16th!
     
  14. KillerClowns

    KillerClowns Emperor

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    I think that would be a good idea. I'll do that as soon as I have some spare time.

    I might connect the scenario from Keelyn's perspective into a single story. Honestly, my knowledge of the scenario itself is thoroughly limited; I got enough info for the needed writing, but it's pinpoints of light in a black abyss. So I'll not be able to make the story proper until I actually play the scenario. Which, given my level of FfH competence, could be a while; the scenario starts off locked, from what I see, and I've got the vague feeling from what I do know that it will not be an easy scenario itself. (But, hey, I'm playing as Keelyn! What could possibly go wrong?)

    On a random note, I recall some time ago that somebody (I think it was thewyrm) was speculating about whether or not Keelyn would have any part in the scenarios. I swear, I wanted to post "hell yeah, and you aren't gonna believe where!" but somehow resisted. My willpower and dedication to Esus are rapidly failing as the 16th approaches, though.
     
  15. KillerClowns

    KillerClowns Emperor

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    Just re-posting my frontpage stories to make room for the index. Nothing new.

    It seems unlikely only raving fanatics make up the Order...
    Spoiler :
    Alan stepped nervously onto the platform. Although surrounded by the Kwythellar city guard, he could not help but fear for his life. He was the youngest person to ever achieve the rank of Vicar, but this mattered little to the crowd... no, the mob that surrounded him. He had been proud to don the golden robes a few days ago, but now they would only make him more obvious should he try to escape. Centaurs, humans, dwarves, and elves made up most of the mob, with a scattering of the various other races of the Kuriotate Republic. Except, of course, orcs. "Why do we tolerate these scum in our cities?" demanded a fearsome-looking old Dwarf, "why do we let them live fat off our wealth even as we fight the wretched Clan that spawned them?" The crowd murmured in agreement. Alan had been sent to talk sense into the angry hordes of Kwythellar, to explain why turning upon their fellow Kuriotates simply because they were orcs was as unforgivable as turning upon their on family, despite the continued, and indeed, failing, war with the Clan of Embers.

    Just as Alan was about to begin his speech, another figure walked onto the platform. His robes were those of an Order Prior, and while they had originally been purest white they were now quite dirty. The shield of Junil hung loosely from his neck, and he had a massive, unkempt beard, a worn old staff, and a flask on his side, from which he promptly took a sip. "Gonna try to calm 'em down, eh?" the Prior asked. Alan glanced at the Prior's flask. "Are you allowed... to have that?" "That," the Prior responded, "is sacramental wine, me boy! Well, it's sacramental rum at any rate. We're allowed some of that for blessings an' such... an' right now, I feel like blessin' me innards." Alan looked dubiously at the old man; his impressions of the fierce and unforgiving Order bore little resemblance to the dirty, rum-swigging, grinning old fool that stood before him. "Well, there's a crowd down there lookin' forward to yer speech, laddie. Don' keep 'em waiting; they don' look to be as forgivin' as that damned Empyrean ya follow."

    Alan began. "Brothers and sisters; for truly we are all family under Cardith Lorda." That would help; everyone respected and loved the boy king. "You would take up arms against your fellow citizens? You would strike down those you once called friends..." "Ain't no tuskie ever been a friend of mine!" interrupted someone from the crowd. Alan ignored him and continued. "You would slay the innocent because they look different, or they speak differently, or don't follow the same religion..." "obviously, we mus' also tolerate the ones that demand ya sacrifice innocents to Agares" muttered the Prior, but Alan barely heard him as he continued. "You would destroy all that we have worked to create?" "No!" came a voice from the crowd. "We are loyal to Cardith Lorda! We are loyal to all the Kuriotate Republic stands for!" Alan breathed a sigh of relief, but the man continued, "this is why we must wipe out the vermin infesting out cities! What next, shall we grant citizenship to the rats that eat our grain? Better that, me thinks, than letting orcs inhabit our fine city! At least rats don't seek to kill us all! Hells, I hear they can be trained; that's more than can be said of the tuskies!" A nervous laugh came from the crowd. "We must cleanse the city in the name of Cardith Lorda! In the name of the Gold Dragon! In the name of the Kuriotate Republic!"

    As soon as the heckler finished speaking, the Prior banged his staff upon the platform. The air grew chilly, and the color seemed to drain from the surrounding city. A flawless crystal floated upon the platform. Alan knew better than to look directly at it, and thanks to years of practice, resisted; the Prior had done the unthinkable. "We follow the Empyrean," Alan said to the Prior. "That... that thing denies people their most basic freedoms, makes them into slaves! It is an abomination!" "Sometimes," the Prior said, "people won' listen. I don' like that thing," and with this the Prior motioned to the crystal, "any more than you do. But I'd rather use it, jus' fer now, than watch good people get slaughtered on account o' a couple o' nutjobs who know how to start a mob. Give yer speech, and when yer done..." from somewhere in his robes, the Prior pulled a knife marked with symbols holy to Junil, "pierce that crystal with this. They'll be free, aye, but they will also 'ave 'eard yer words. Really 'eard 'em, not just sorta heard 'em like before. An' make sure ya return the knife when yer done; jes leave it outside the local Temple o' the Order. It'll get back to me from there." The Prior was about to walk off the stage, but then examined his nearly empty flask. "It's twenty silver pieces fer the finest rum... for sacramental purpose, ya know." The Prior held out his hand, and accepted the coins Alan handed him. He left the platform whistling a particularly bawdy folk song and left Alan to show wisdom to the now docile crowd. Alan began again, speaking this time not to an angry mob, but a crowd whose hearts and minds were open to the truth.


    Mistforms, or why a walk through Svartalfar lands is a bad idea.
    Spoiler :
    "There's mischief in these woods, mark my words," Acolyte Jodiah muttered. He had sent on a holy mission from Tor Achare to spread the word of the Order to all... even the treachorous Svartalfar. "Junil is with us... hopefully..." muttered the Sergeant Hotspur, the man in charge of Jodiah's small bodyguard. "I mean... the dark elves aren't exactly nice people... to put it lightly... but they aren't stupid either. If they tried anything funny, it'd only take one of us to get the word back to Capria... and then... well, then we'd drop the Bannor hammer on the Svartalfar empire, wouldn't we? Why, they'd not have a hope of defeating the Bannor Empire in a real battle! We'd grind 'em up and spit 'em out, we would!" With this, Hotspur began singing an old Bannor anthem, his spirits now high.

    One of the men, a private fresh out of the Academy, stopped suddenly. "It wasn't this foggy before, was it?" "Forget it! It's just the mist! What's it gonna do? Eat us?" "well," another private pointed out, "this is Svartalfar lands... they say the very mists and shadows turn against the unwary." Hotspur laughed. "The unwary, maybe! But not the Bannor!" Hotspur had these particularly patriotic moods sometimes, and it was best not to argue with him during these times. Usually they came when he was most terrified, although the last man to point this out had gotten latrine duty for a month.

    Something moved in the shadows; Jodiah glimpsed a hooded figure for a fleeting second, but it vanished just as quickly. From their reactions, the rest of the bodyguard had seen it as well. "Hah! If they're dumb enough to try and challenge us, so be it!" Hotspur cried, unsheathing his sword. As if in response, the mist thickened in front of them... and took shape.

    It was a humanoid figure, essentially, but its exact shape was uncertain; Jodiah couldn't place exactly where the mist ended and the creature began. Hotspur slashed at it, and the creature hissed and clawed back. Its hands were sharpened talons, and they proved to be more than mist; the creature had almost gotten through the light plate on Hotspur's chest. Hotspur's blow, meanwhile, went straight through the beast. It hissed with pain, but the blow had been nowhere near enough to kill the beast. Its form wavered, but it managed to slash at Hotspur's face, tearing it horrifically, before finally vanishing, taking the eldritch mist with it.

    "Svartalfar witchcraft!" screamed Jodiah. "How dare they! It's not long back to Ithmariar, men. We'll tell the magistrates there what those barbaric dogs did, and see if the healers can help Hotspur; that foul blow is beyond my abilities, I'm afraid. The Svartalfar attacked a missionary and his bodyguard! For no reason but their own foul spite and malice! They shall be taught respect. The Bannor Empire will see to that..."

    Watching all this but remaining out of sight, the hooded man smiled. It had worked. The priest had taken the bait and easily believed the creature had been sent by Svartalfar hands. The Bannor would be at war with the Svartalfar in a matter of weeks, if even that. Idiots. The Svartalfar would claim innocence. But with their history of trickery, who would believe them? When the two foolish powers had weakened each other over this pathetic war... then his masters could deal the finishing blow to both of them. But that would come later... for now, he knew his masters would reward him richly for this wonderful bit of deception...


    Converting Doviello: never boring.
    Spoiler :
    "So, Blackwolf, what do you reckon? The tall one or the ugly one?" asked Redhand. The entire town of Iskvard had turned up to watch the battle... or more likely, the farce. A few days ago, two travellers had entered Iskvard. The first, the "tall one" had announced himself as an follower of Lugus from the Elohim empire, while the "ugly one" called himself a Savant of the Ashen Veil, and announced himself as Sheaim. Both had been thrown in the caves that served as dungeouns for the town, but upon seeing each other began insulting, threatening, and damning each other all through the night. Finally, the jailer, fed up with the bickering, said that the two could settle their differences in a duel. They had agreed, eager to spill blood in the name of their respective gods, and perhaps impress the Doviello enough to spread their word.

    "Well, the ugly one's got that look in his eyes... he's a real scrapper, that's for sure." Blackwolf was an expert gambler who always seemed to be on the right side of any duel, battle, or squabble. As an young man, he had been one of the few to side with Mahala, and was still reaping the benefits of this wise choice. "But if you look at him," Blackwolf continued, "he's a bit scrawny. Look at him with that little knife of his." Of all the weapons in the Doviello armory, the Savant had picked an Orcish sacrificial knife which, due to its size, the Savant carried like a sword. "And the way he holds it... like a butcher, not a warrior. Then again, he's probably killed before, likely sacrificed humans to whatever gods the Sheaim worship, and that's to his credit. That might give him an edge, having no qualms about killing. Like I said, he's a scrapper, and he's a killer. Vicious. Nasty. Brutal." "So," Redhand asked, "you think he'll take the victory?"

    "It's too close to call... I wouldn't wager on this fight, but if I had to, I suppose I'd actually go with the tall one. He's Elohim and, despite what you might of heard, when cornered the Elohim have quite a bite. He took the tip off the spear he picked out... everyone else laughed, but I've seen what an Elohim can do with a staff. The ugly one's a scrapper, but the tall one? He's a warrior. He's fought before... I doubt he's killed, likely he's only been in sparring matches. Probably never even shed blood except by accident, but he knows how to handle his weapon against another warrior. And he's definetly stronger then that Sheaim. They're useless in combat, the Sheaim. All witchcraft and black magic, but seperate them from whatever monster they've summoned and they're as good as dead. I mean, compare the two. The tall one's no Doviello, obviously, but he's fit... you could mistake him for a Bannor, I'd say. Nothing to laugh at. The ugly one? If you told me his father was a goblin, I'd believe you. Then again," Blackwolf paused to contemplate, "like I said, the ugly one's got that look in his eyes... the tall one might not have the stones for this. He might panic in a real battle. He's definetly fresh. He's seen twenty winters at the most. The sight of his own blood might be enough to make him queasy. He could forget all that practice in a few seconds of stress. Now, the ugly one... look at him. Convered in scars. Whatever god he worships demands blood, and he's given it. He might not even feel pain any more. And killing? He knows how to do it... he probably knows exactly where his foe's heart is, and might do just as well against a moving sacrifice as one tied down. Too close to call. But I still say the tall one's got the slight edge"

    A blast from the great horn announced the start of the battle. The two combatants were shoved unceremoniously into the heart of the primitive arena while, from the stands, the Doviello cheered or jeered. Some had taken a liking to the preachings of one or the other, but plenty had wagered on the outcome of the battle and were rooting for whoever would bring them some extra gold. The Sheaim charged, cackling, knife raised, while the Elohim moved more cautiously, watching his foe's bull rush. "Your blood for Agare..." the Sheaim's battlecry was interrupted by a swift jab to the gut from the Elohim's staff. "Should've kept the spearpoint. He could've killed that idiot like that... then again, the ugly one might not have charged a spear so foolishly," Blackwolf noted. The Sheaim took the blow suprisingly well, however, and swung his blade at the Elohim, leaving a vicious gash on the Elohim's leg. The Elohim winced, but put his weight on his other leg and continued to hold his staff at the ready. "Last time he got a gash like that, if he ever has, there was probably a healer within ten minutes. He hasn't lost it yet, but let's see if he can take the pain for the rest of the battle." The Sheaim attempted another slash, but all he got was another blow, this time to the face, from the Elohim's staff. The next strike knocked the Sheaim to the ground, but he managed to roll away from what would have possibly been a fatal blow. "What did that ugly one do to make an Elohim so willing to kill? They don't even hate us that much, and that's saying something..." "Foul dog," the Sheaim yelled as he got back up and readied his blade, "my lord will feast on your entrails in Hell!" The Elohim refused to respond, instead watching the Sheaim carefully. The Sheaim circled, and then feinted. The Elohim didn't even flinch. The Sheaim growled animalistically and then came forward again, this time for real. The Elohim responded swiftly... a blow to the face, a downward strike to the head, followed by a rain of blows. At this point he seemed to notice the crowd for the first time and, as if seeking to impress them, leapt up and kicked the Sheaim square in the chest with his good leg, somehow managing to land on it aftewards. The Sheaim lay motionless and bloody, while the Elohim turned to face the crowd. In some parts, brawls broke out, started by those wagering on the Sheaim, but most of the crowd cheered, suprised by the Elohim's skill in battle. But with shocking speed, the Sheaim leapt up and stabbed the Elohim in the back. The cheering stopped as the Sheaim proudly declared, "I am the champion! You will heed the words of mighty Agares..." but then, he noticed that the crowd surrounding him did not seem pleased. Mutters of "coward," "viper," and "weakling" floated through the masses...

    Barrius had not wanted to go to the Doviello territory. It had been several weeks since Armus had been sent from chair Abbey to convert the Doviello, and he had not yet returned. Doubtless the brutes had killed the poor fellow, and Barrius knew he would be next. He wasn't afraid of death... he was more worried about what savagery might precede that. As he arrived at the town, he saw a guard. "Where is Armus?" asked Barrius. "Armus? Tall Elohim fellow, disciple of some sun god?" "Yeah," Barrius said nervously. "Dead," the guard responded simply. "Dead?" At first, Barrius was outraged, but he noticed no malice in the guard's voice... indeed, he seemed to speak of Armus with a certain respect. "Dead. Slain by a cowardly Sheaim serpent. He was given a warrior's funeral." "He spoke of Lugus, did he not?" Baririus asked. "Indeed," the guard responded, and then asked, "you know of this Lugus?" Hope filled Barrius. "Yes! Indeed I do!" "Very well," the guard said. "Come in, and tell us more."


    An ordinary day in Ashen Veil-ruled Jubilee, seen from three different perspectives.
    Spoiler :
    It was a good day, Lovio reckoned. The smell of sulfur coming from the east covered up the stench of excrement, urnine, and decay that usually prevaded the slums of Jubilee, and the sun was a more pleasant shade of crimson than usual. "Thank Junil," Lovio thought, but he dare not say it; mentioning Junil's name would assure you would be dragged off to the Ashen Veil's sacrificial altar or to serve as some carnival amusement; both were lethal, and Lovio was unsure which was a worse fate. He glanced at the twisted vines growing on the crumbling apartment block that served as the headquarters for the Order in West End of Jubilee. He had heard plants used to be green and pleasant, and seen illustrations of "flowers" in the books he had read as a child. These were probably myths, Lovio reckoned, to cheer up children, but it was pleasant to imagine. It gave people hope, something that was lacking for the poor of Jubilee.

    He had been sent to get groceries. This might have seemed a simple task, but for the poor of Jubilee, nothing was ever that simple. He had a handful of coins; several silver pieces bearing Keelyn's image and a single gold coin with Perpentach's leering face. Enough for the week, if Lovio spent them wisely. He dared not show such a sum, though. Street gangs were everywhere. He knew his own gang, the West End Ravens, and the South Road Deathskulls, were fronts for the Order, and there were several others. But nobody in the Order knew too much, to keep it from being tortured out of them, and even his fellow followers of Junil might unwittingly mug him seeking to feed their own flock. So Lovio watched carefully, sticking to the main roads. He realized that a day this pleasant would bring out more gangs than usual, and his safest bet would be to go through the carnival.

    The music was pleasant, but it had a dark, slightly hypnotic undertone. If he stayed too long, he'd doubtless make some mistake, made drunk on the music's call or some drug-filled vapor. He knew the carnival pretty well, but it changed from day to day as some attractions moved on and others took their place. He saw a tent with a beautiful but sobbing half-naked woman outside, covered in chains and whip marks. "Care for a bit of time with my finest slave?" enquired the woman's "owner." Only a few fools even looked twice; most knew the "slave" to be a succubus, since no man had ever been seen emerging from the tent. Served them right in Lovio's opinion. They doubtless suffered exactly what they had planned on inflicting.

    He heard the slavedealer offering his wares. "How about this fine young lad?" The slavedealer offered up a boy young boy. "He's Ljosalfar, so he works well in the woods. Unless someone would like him for more... private uses." Lovio shuddered as a fat man offered three gold coins. The boy would be lucky if he was merely worked to death. He heard screams from nearby. "This red button makes the trap door open! The green one brings down the saw! The blue one lets loose the acid! And there's so many more! So many more! Five copper pieces if you provide your own slave, ten if you use one of ours! Not only can you watch them die, you can even choose their death!" This was a new attraction, Lovio noted. "Mommy, can I please?" demanded a small boy, well-dressed and clearly some noble's brat. "You know our old slave is too worn out to work! I want to make him die!" Lovio shuddered and continued on. He was regretting not taking the long route.

    He finally came upon a food stall. "So, how's the weather?" asked Lovio. "Heavenly," said the stall's owner. He took a great risk; this was the newest codeword for the Order, but it might have already been found out. Lovio could have been an agent of the Ashen Veil, for all the stall owner knew, and they might have already found out the codeword. Then again, the stall owner could also have been an agent of the Veil, seeking to find out if Lovio was a member of the Order. Or it might have been a coincidence. Lovio chose to avoid pursuing the subject, instead examining the food up for offer. No gulgarms; it seemed likelier the stall owner was an agent of the Order, but nothing was sure. Lovio had been taught from an early age to loathe gulgarms; they were said to damn the souls of those who ate them, and the Order was taking no chances. For most, they were the most delicious of all foods in the Balseraph empire, cheap and succulent, but they were damned anyways and cared not about old wives' tales. Lovio was tempted by the roasted toad; it was a delicacy, but the price made Lovio decide against it. Although he did love a good roasted toad, Lovio had to feed the orphans as well as himself and his Brothers. He also liked cockroach, however, and the price for that was far more reasonable. There was some ludicriously overpriced steak, imported from Amurite lands. Lovio had tried the stuff once, but found it strange and disgusting... all the more so when he discovered what sort of beast it had come from, a massive creature with horns like a Balor's. Of course, nobody could live on cockroach alone and, on a whim, Lovio picked up some maggot pies and a jug of bat's blood.



    It was a good day, Arvan reckoned. He set up his food stall in the carnival. His stall was right by that new attraction, the Executioner's Delight. Waste of good slaves in Arvan's opinion. But the rich were dumb. They had slaves to spare. He watched one sliced in half by a swinging blade. It would go right over a Dwarf's head, Arvan thought, but as if to reply, another blade flew at the man's kneecaps. "They think of everything, don't they?" But Arvan had better things to do than watch the rich dispose of slaves. The thing he loved about the carnival was the music. He wasn't keen on the vapors; those were for people with money to spare, but the music was the one thing that was free. He was putting together as much money as he could. He was planning to move to Letum Frigus. Arvan had heard that in the Illian lands, one could go their entire life without risking sacrifice; their god apparently was satisfied as long as nobody caused too much fuss. Sacrifice an animal or two to him, and he'd be happy. It sounded pleasant, and Arvan already had a collection of fur coats ready.

    He watched some idiot pay the owner of the Succubus' tent a few coins. The fool grinned lecherously at what looked like a beaten, sobbing beauty and the two went inside, the woman pleading the whole way. It would soon be the man that was begging for mercy, Arvan knew. If people wanted to beat women, Arvan thought to himself, they should have enough sense to buy their own.

    Some slave dealer was selling his catches. Or possibly someone else's catches, to guess by the inflated prices. "How about this fine young lad?" A young Ljosalfar was dragged onstage. "He's Ljosalfar, so he works well in the woods. Unless someone would like him for more... private uses." Arvan looked at him. Young and beautiful; some fetishist would get him. And, just as Arvan thought this, a fat man offered three gold coins. Arvan reckoned the kid would make a good cockroach hunter, but he didn't have money to spare and had to tend to his stall. So he let the fat man have his toy. Waste of a good slave, again. The rich were always wasting their slaves on fetishes or amusments.

    "This red button makes the trap door open! The green one brings down the saw! The blue one lets loose the acid! And there's so many more! So many more! Five copper pieces if you provide your own slave, ten if you use one of ours! Not only can you watch them die, you can even choose their death!" The barker for the Executioner's Delight began hollering about the machine's wonders. Some brat heard him and began whining to his mother. "Mommy, can I please?" The kid was staring at the Executioner's Delight. "You know our old slave is too worn out to work! I want to make him die!" A noble's spawn, of course. Only a noble would waste a slave in such a fashion, and only a noble would dress their child in such ludicriously rich clothes... of all the wastes of gold, a coat of human skin. Dark, Malakim skin no less. His parents were doubtless in Perpentach's inner court. One bad day, and they'd be up the sacrificial altar. Arvan preferred his stall to spending time near that clown. "Just a few platinum pieces and I'll be off to Letum Frigus." Arvan reminded himself.

    "So, how's the weather?" asked a scraggly young man, dressed in the black and teal of the West End Ravens. Arvan had heard of the Ravens; they were said to be some of the most vicious brutes in all of Jubilee, so ruthless and murderous that even the priests of the Ashen Veil avoided West End. But this guy was just a punk. And Arvan was in a good mood. "Heavenly," he responded, thinking of the paradise of Letum Frigus. The man seemed slightly startled by this reaction, but after a moment of contemplation seemed to decide it wasn't important. He glanced at the steak in disgust. Arvan was slightly insulted; it was genuine Amurite steak, good stuff. But the punk was probably used to local food. Arvan would sell the steak to someone with more money then sense later. The punk picked out some cockroaches, a few maggot pies, and a jug of bat's blood. He definetly had good taste, Arvan thought approvingly as he added the coins to his stash. A few coins closer to Letum Frigus... a few coins closer to getting away from this madhouse. The only thing he would miss was the music.



    It was a good day, Lasur reckoned. Mommy was taking him to the carnival. He loved the carnival. The music was fun, and there were always so many things to do. He put on his new coat. It was made of bad people. It felt really nice, but it had cost a lot. His daddy had to be really nice to the Perpentach, the smiling king, and his daughter to get it. Lasur had seen Perpentach's daughter. Her name was Keelyn, and she was pretty. He'd wanted to play with her, but his parents wouldn't let him. They seemed worried, like she'd hurt him, but she seemed so nice. She'd wanted to show him her friend, Giggles. His parents always seemed to be scared of Perpentach and Keelyn, even though they both seemed so nice. Perpentach always spoke in fun little rhymes and riddles.

    Lasur liked the carnival. There was so much to do. And Mommy and Daddy were rich, so he could buy whatever he want. They almost never said no to what he wanted. Mommy was too busy with her vapors, and Daddy was usually playing all sorts of strange games with his slave girls. Daddy had promised Lasur he'd explain these games when he was older. Lasur had asked Mommy about these games, but she had sighed and cried a little bit when he did. She always had extra vapors when she found Daddy playing with his slave girls.

    Lasur saw a tent with a woman outside it. She was crying, and looked like one of Daddy's slaves. She was pretteir than most of Daddy's slaves, though. A man paid the tent man a few coins and went in with the pretty woman. "Maybe we should take Daddy here. I think he'd enjoy that tent," Lasur said. "Yes," Mommy said with a strange grin. "I think it would be perfect for him..."

    Lasur saw a great big machine. It was really complicated, and had lots of gears and levers and buttons. "This red button makes the trap door open! The green one brings down the saw! The blue one lets loose the acid! And there's so many more! So many more! Five copper pieces if you provide your own slave, ten if you use one of ours! Not only can you watch them die, you can even choose their death!" Lasur had lots of copper pieces. "Mommy, can I please?" Lasur asked, pulling on Mommy's dress and pointing at the machine. "You know our old slave is too worn out to work! I want to make him die!" Lasur was tired of Mommy's old work slave. He couldn't carry as much any more. He wasn't any use. He was old and boring. Mommy had been planning to sell him, but that was boring. "No," Mommy said, "he's still worth gold... but if you're a good boy, you know what we'll do?" "What?" Lasur asked. Mommy had been speaking quietly. Lasur knew that he should be secertive as well. "We'll take one of Daddy's slaves to the Executioner's Delight. Maybe that pretty little Svartalfar girl he's been playing with so often... yes, she'll be perfect... I'll make her suffer, then you can finish her off! Doesn't that sound fun!" "Yes! That sounds really fun!" Lasur promised he'd be a good boy and say his prayers to Agares every night and not ask Mommy for anything when she was on her vapors and tell Mommy everything that Daddy did and not tell Daddy anything that Mommy did. He was going to have so much fun!
     
  16. cyther

    cyther Lord of the Dance

    Joined:
    Jun 9, 2008
    Messages:
    1,033
    Location:
    Fane of Lessers
    I was trapped in a building for a short time earlier today so I decided to write a story/ song. The song is the real part but it didn't make much sense to just post that.

    Spoiler :


    Dain was lost in the streets of Rocket Hill, as strange little city on the border of the Grigori empire. In the middle of the alley he was walking through there was a diseased old man. The man called on him to come close and so he did. The man said he had to tell someone of his travels before he died. Dain then heard one of the strangest songs that he had ever heard:

    Erebusmas:(Sung to the tune of the 12 days of christmas)
    In the first day of Erebus
    The gods gave to me
    A Fruit of the Yggdrasil

    In the second day of Erebus
    The gods gave to me
    Two Sidar ghosts
    and a Fruit of the Yggdrasil

    In the third day of Erebus
    The gods gave to me
    Three Lanun Pirates
    Two Sidar ghosts
    and a Fruit of the Yggdrasil

    In the forth day of Erebus
    The gods gave to me
    Four Hippus Mercs
    Three Lanun Pirates
    Two Sidar ghosts
    and a Fruit of the Yggdrasil

    In the fifth day of Erebus
    The gods gave to me
    Five Balseraphs
    Four Hippus Mercs
    Three Lanun Pirates
    Two Sidar ghosts
    and a Fruit of the Yggdrasil

    In the sixth day of Erebus
    The gods gave to me
    Six Demons Fighting
    Five Balseraphs
    Four Hippus Mercs
    Three Lanun Pirates
    Two Sidar ghosts
    and a Fruit of the Yggdrasil

    In the seventh day of Erebus
    The gods gave to me
    Seven Treants on Fire
    Six Demons Fighting
    Five Balseraphs
    Four Hippus Mercs
    Three Lanun Pirates
    Two Sidar ghosts
    and a Fruit of the Yggdrasil

    In the eighth day of Erebus
    The gods gave to me
    Eight Mages Casting
    Seven Treants on Fire
    Six Demons Fighting
    Five Balseraphs
    Four Hippus Mercs
    Three Lanun Pirates
    Two Sidar ghosts
    and a Fruit of the Yggdrasil

    In the ninth day of Erebus
    The gods gave to me
    Nine Elven Ladies
    Eight Mages Casting
    Seven Treants on Fire
    Six Demons Fighting
    Five Balseraphs
    Four Hippus Mercs
    Three Lanun Pirates
    Two Sidar ghosts
    and a Fruit of the Yggdrasil

    In the tenth day of Erebus
    The gods gave to me
    Ten Vamps a Biting
    Nine Elven Ladies
    Eight Mages Casting
    Seven Treants on Fire
    Six Demons Fighting
    Five Balseraphs
    Four Hippus Mercs
    Three Lanun Pirates
    Two Sidar ghosts
    and a Fruit of the Yggdrasil

    In the eleventh day of Erebus
    The gods gave to me
    Eleven Golems Working
    Ten Vamps a Biting
    Nine Elven Ladies
    Eight Mages Casting
    Seven Treants on Fire
    Six Demons Fighting
    Five Balseraphs
    Four Hippus Mercs
    Three Lanun Pirates
    Two Sidar ghosts
    and a Fruit of the Yggdrasil

    In the twelth day of Erebus
    The gods gave to me
    Twelve Orcs Attacking
    Eleven Golems Working
    Ten Vamps a Biting
    Nine Elven Ladies
    Eight Mages Casting
    Seven Treants on Fire
    Six Demons Fighting
    Five Balseraphs
    Four Hippus Mercs
    Three Lanun Pirates
    Two Sidar ghosts
    and a Fruit of the Yggdrasil

    Dain offered his apologies to the man but the man just sat there staring into the sky. Dain asked the man what was wrong with him and the man said "You know, I really wish that I could do it all again."

    "Why?" Dain asked, "That was one of the worst lives anyone could ever live."

    "I know" the man replied, "but I really loved day nine."
     
  17. cypher132

    cypher132 Emperor

    Joined:
    Dec 7, 2008
    Messages:
    1,009
    Hey, I'm probably not..uh..Good. At writing, but I gave it a shot a while ago.

    Doviello Arena

    Spoiler :
    Artugra stood at the entrance to the great arena. He saw at the other entrance a small scared man he knew by the name of Modin, wearing nothing but dirty rags and the expression of an animal about to die. This is not to say Artugra himself felt fear. When you are forced into the arena by your master, there is a high chance you will die. Artugra got here by defying an order from his master to kill a sick child. Now he had to fight to the death to keep his life. He surveyed the crowd around him. The bloodthirsty crowd all crying for blood and death.
    A large Doviello man broke the skull of an ogre with his club, signifying the beginning of the battle. Artugra was pushed out of the entrance and into the arena, the same for Modin. He knew he had to fight or both would be left for the sport of wolves. He glanced around frantically, looking for something he could use as a weapon and saw several stones lying on the ground near the side of arena. His opponent, equally as frantic, noticed them as well and opened up into a highspeed sprint to reach what could be his salvation. Artugra ran to the pile of rocks himself, arriving at his destination at the same time as Modin. Realizing that Modin could not get his hands on these precious stones, Artugra tackled the man, forcing him to the ground and began to rain blows down upon Modin. He heard a sharp crack as his opponent's nose was broken from well-aimed punch, but the Doviello were raised to be hardy and Artugra soon found himself lying on the ground with Modin standing above him, holding one of the stones that Artugra had coveted mere minutes before.
    Modin leapt onto Artugra and swung the rock down onto his shoulder, breaking it in the process. Atugra reached for his own weapon with his last good arm and swung it up to Modin's face. There was a loud crack as the bones in Modin's cheek snapped and cracked from the force of the blow. Modin fell off Artugra, holding his face and screaming in pain. Artugra, filled with adrenaline and his natural Doviello bloodlust, repeatedly brought the stone down upon the back of Modin's head, breaking through the bone with ever strike. Pieces of blood and bone flew from the head of Modin and from the upswing of Artugra's stone. Soon, Modin became motionless and Artugra stood holding the stone high in a symbol of victory. The crowd roared, delighted in the carnage and bloodshed they had just witnessed. Artugra waited for the entrance gate to lift so he could exit, but another gate opened to the left of him. Three wolves strode out of it, fur raised and growling at the victorious man. A wounded Doviello is a useless Doviello and the wolves were hungry.
     
  18. Ekolite

    Ekolite Deity

    Joined:
    Sep 15, 2007
    Messages:
    5,451
    I completely forgot about this story, I always meant to continue it...

    Good work on the catalogue, but could you possibly put a link to my thread in the Stories forum up there? It has some more recent ones then what I've posted here.
     
  19. KillerClowns

    KillerClowns Emperor

    Joined:
    Oct 6, 2007
    Messages:
    1,139
    I've already got this thread under "See Also." Or do you mean another one I missed? Post a link if so.
     
  20. Ekolite

    Ekolite Deity

    Joined:
    Sep 15, 2007
    Messages:
    5,451
    Oh right, I didn't see that. Still it would be nice if the link was with the rest of my stories, saying ''see more at...''. :)
     

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