Fundraiser
By Nala | January 29, 2020
Everything except for theme packs, advanced character token: Grandmaster, advanced character token: Legendary, and caster artisan Ingredient Pack, will be 2 for 1. So double your items while helping the server replace equipment. http://store.uoroleplay.com/
Be sure to check out the Items Hall, we have a ton of new items.
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The buried queen
By Parallissi | October 11, 2019
Another individual entered, and closed the metal door behind him. He was maybe six feet tall, with a red cloak and hood covering his face, and smiled in return.
"What did you find?" the hooded man asked.
"You may be right." replied the other, smiling and slightly tilting his head "I found that name in our records. She is probably real."
"Very well, this is great news." said the hooded one, with a grin.
"Is it? Because if that is the right place, and she is really what we think, seeking her may not be wise." The blonde man gazed at the other, his lips pursed and his expression uneasy.
"Do you understand that she may be the oldest one still alive? She may have all the answers I'm looking for." said the man wearing the hood, placing his hands on the table.
"Or she will just destroy you, because she maybe doesn't want to be disturbed. And even if she means you no harm, how can we know in wich way a vampire that old will react, after centuries of quiescence." the blonde man quckly said, his tone troubled.
"Whatever is going to happen, it will be worth it." the hooded one said, quickly moving to the metal door of the chamber.
"Pridbor this time you are risking too much, and not only you." the other said loudly, before the door shut.
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Hindsight and Revelations
By Miri | October 1, 2019
She remembered that night, clear as day...
She remembered coming back from one of her explorations, finding her adopted human family celebrating, and had offered to go hunting so that they could feast.
She remembered returning with some game, only to find that the entire caravan was in shambles. Blood throughout, as well as the bodies of those who had taken her in when she had been left on their figurative doorstep as an infant.
She moved now,in this dream- through this destruction as it flickered from the joyous scene, remembering clearly, the bodies butchered like animals... strewn alongside the bodies of orcs.
Only this time, instead of her gifts of meat for the feast, she held her bow, strung and ready as she stepped over and around those she had loved, and those orcs who had fallen victim.
As she checked the remnants of wagons and tents for any signs of life, she had come to realize that not much had been taken, which did not seem the norm for orcs. She had not noticed this before and now she had questions that she was not sure that she would ever have answers for.
Gripping her bow, she set off from the caravan, treading down the broken path through the woods... anger and frustration driving her to one goal...
The dream seemed to speed up, like she was now watching it from far away. She could see her form, up in a tree on the outskirts of the orc encampment, watching them celebrate their own sordid victory.
With her bow in hand, she let loose arrow after arrow, calculated rage in her eyes. Alarms sounded, signalling the clan that there was danger, and they had begun to spread out into the forest in an attempt to find the threat.
This had been a bad move, as they made it easier for her to slip through the trees and pick them off, and eventually, she started to play that classic game of cat and mouse. Toying with her prey.
At times she would not even use an arrow, but her skinning knife. Boldly cornering, prodding and picking at her target until they were furious enough to rush her, in which she would deliver a deadly wound and leave them to suffer. Just as she had been sure that her own 'family' had, at their hands.
There were some that she did take pity on, those who seemed to be servants who had fled out of fear. She made sure that their ending was quick, but not entirely painless...
The little half-elf did not stop until she was sure that the entire clan was dead. And to be extra sure, she had used herself as bait, running openly through the trees and picking off stragglers as she had wandered the entire area.
By morning, the forest floor was soaked with blood from her deadly hunt...
~*~
Miri woke to the sound of the lone candle sputtering out on the table before her, her head on her arms, which were resting on piles of maps and parchments pertaining to her recent tasks. Something was in her hand, and as she looked down, she had come to realize that it was the talisman that Pridbor had given to her after finding it on the corpse of a drow. The Elven etchings were somewhat faded as she ran her fingers over them in thought.
The caravan that she, Cloelia, and Eleanor had happened upon roused the memory of that night many years ago, she was sure. But then she remembered something that had been mentioned about Drow joining forces with orcs and other sorry ilk to further their means, and she wondered if it was all somehow connected to her past.
Had the drow targetted her family's caravan for some reason and used the orcs to wipe them out? They had not taken much, if anything, so it seemed plausible. But why? Now she had more questions than answers and she had to plan her next course of action...
She rose, tucking the talisman away into a hidden pocket and wiped away a tear that must have fallen while she had dreamt, and set out to start her day.
Soon she would find answers. She could hope, after all. Hope and plan. But for now, she would finish this job. She had given her word.
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A binding sip
By Parallissi | October 1, 2019
"Maybe, but that is not my main concern at the moment. Was she one of us?"
In response, a short haired man wearing a crimson robe, lifted a golden goblet and sneered. "She may have been, but as you saw there is only an old tale left about her. We cannot be sure." He sipped from the cup.
They were sitting at a long table, with golden plates, chalices and cutlery arranged for a banquet. One with short blond hair, wearing a dark red robe, and the other wth long cherry hair, wearing dark pants and boots with a black fabric jacket over a white shirt. They had something in common, their whitened and almost emotionless faces, illumined by the candelabrums on the table.
"The reason why some of us think she was" added the one in crimson, putting down his goblet on the table "Is because of what she did, and how. Surrounding herself with so many devotees, in a very short amount of time, looks like something we can do." He smiled, staring into his interlocutor's eyes. "You can do it, am I right?"
"It is not the same thing." replied the other, his right hand running through his red hair. "Yes, some of us can, but then she did something with those people that destroyed her. The tale says of how quickly people started to speak about her cult, and in no time they took and killed her. And nothing about that part of the story makes me think she was a vampire, it says they simply put her down."
"There are many reasons why someone of our kind could do such a thing, simply the impossibility to control his or her hunger, could be enough. Does it remind you of someone?" said the short haired one, with an amused smile on his otherwise phlegmatic face, and he again reached for his cup.
The man with long hair briefly sighed, with his lips contorting into an annoyed grimace. "What about the chalice then, do you know something about it?" he added.
"Oh, now I understand. I should have known you were interested in that, still looking for the knowledge of the ancients I suppose." answered the other man, pensively gazing at the dark red liquid inside his wine glass.
"Some say it was the source of her power, that some demonic influence was involved but, if she was one of the accursed she probably had no need for something like that." the one in crimson said, in a sigh. "But I never saw the object, and I don't know anyone who ever did. If you are really interested in that, probably it is still somwhere in the lands of the Empire, where she started her cult."
The red haired smiled, and took another golden cup, in front of him. "There is someone, that is already taking care of it for me."
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Hunting Orcs
By Artemas | August 14, 2019
Baas smiled to himself as he thought of his Father's superstitions. He himself had been back to Trinsic many times since the miracle return of it's inhabitants and though he found it a bit dull he did not find it threatening by any means.
Having reached the Varstaad bank he paused for a moment and looked around. The Calormen city seemed to be doing very well for itself. There were many people out and about on this fine day and the streets had many guards on patrol. Baas even took note of the vibrant new uniforms the guards wore before resuming his walk, turning at the bank he headed North. Along the road he passed a stable and a large mage shop.
Being the fifth son in a merchant's family did not leave much room for advancement, and Baas had wanted advancement. He wanted fame and fortune, like his Father had, and he did not want to share it with his brothers. So instead of staying in the family buisness he had decided to branch out. He had no knack, or desire, for martial skills nor did he show much ability for the schools of magery. He was a well mannered, fairly good looking young man who was good at talking and little else, so naturaly he turned to politics. Baas, with help from his Father's many connections, joined the Council of Towns. His Father approved greatly of this as he hoped Baas would provide him with inside information on the dealings of the Council.
It had seemed like a good plan three years ago. But here he was, a low level assistant to an advisor of one of the Council Members, running errands similar to the ones he would have been running if he had stayed in the family buisness. He sighed to himself as he turned sideways and squeezed betweem a provisoner shop and a tinkerer shop. Clearing the buildings he found himself standing before one of the larger buildings in Varstaad. Formerly a wondeful tavern known as the Mystic Muse it had , mysteriously, fallen into the hands of a new mercenary company called the Wolves of Calormen.
As he walked towards the building he looked it over. There was a large stone porch running half the length of the front of the building. One half of the porch had a table with a few chairs around it. The other half of the porch had a forge and some chests, for the most part neatly organised. He walked between the table and and the smithing area. Coming to the door he paused for a moment and took a deep breath before knocking loudly on the single door. He waited, and waited...
With no repsonse coming he decided to try the door and found it unlocked. Pulling the door open he walked into the large, dimly lit, main room of the building. He had visited the Mystic Muse once and it had been a very warm and friendly tavern run by a delightful lady named Lillie. It looked like these wolves still intended to run a tavern, but it was no longer warm, nor did it seem very friendly.
The bar had previously been across from the door he had just entered through but it was no longer there. He looked around the room and at the south end of the room it looked like a rough bar had been pieced together using barrels, sitting upright, with a heavy board laid across the tops of the barrels. A few stools stood before the rickty bar. Where the bar meet the wall sat a man. His stool was titled back so that his back rested against the wall. Baas realized the man must have been watching him this whole time. It was hard to tell the man's height, over six feet maybe, but not by much. He had a wild mane of mostly black hair and a large unkept beard, shaggy eyebrows and a heavy brow that partially hid a pair of dark eyes. He wore dark chainmail with a few pieces of plate armor. A thick belt with many pouches circled his waist and he wore a kilt of the same color as his armor. A norse style helm, also the same color, sat on the bar and a finely crafted halberd rested against the wall within easy reach. Though a bit discomforted by the man's stare Baas did not let it show. He had heard of this one. Artemas was his name. One of the partners that had formed the Company, he was making a name for himself helping the Covians fight the orcs...for a fee of course.
Baas turned his head slightly to the left and took note of another man. This one was behind the bar. He was giving Baas a measuring look as well and not making any attempt to hide it. Baas returned the look. The man was bald, most likely shaven, but he had a dark beard and mustache, short and a bit unkept. He was larger then the other man, heavier of build with both his hammer like hands resting on top of the bar. He reminded Baas of many of the famers who had worked for his father over the years. Big and strong as a ox. He gave Baas a friendly enough smile but the smile did not reach the man's dark eyes. Standing up straight he waved Baas over and gestured towards a stool. "Want a drink?" he asked with a booming voice.
Baas gave him a friendly smile in return and walked towards the bar. This must me be Clarkson, the other partner. Baas did not know if Clarkson was his first name or last, but it did not really matter. "Thank you good sir, I would not mind an ale, or some wine if you have it." Baas replied as he climbed, a bit akwardly, onto the stool. With a casual look to his right he noted that the dark haired man was still staring at him. His look reminded Baas of how his hounds looked when they noticed a rabbit or squirrel in the yard. Tense and still, but ready to spring at a moments notice. Baas turned back to Clarkson and took the bottle of ale that was being offered him. "That'll be ten gold, sir" the large man said as he casually rested his large hands back on the bar, the right one unassumingly nudging a tip jar towards Baas. Baas had been about to take a drink from the ale bottle and did his best to hide his surprise at the cost. Nodding he reached into his money pouch, noticing Clarkson's eyes following his hand, and took out enough gold to cover the cost. He slid the coins across the rough bar. Clarkson frowned slightly as he scooped up the coins, giving another glance towards the empty tip jar before letting his eyes fall again to Baas' money pouch. Baas smiled again and took a drink of the ale. He was surprised as the ale was quite good, not what he had been expecting from this pair.
With another slidelong glance he noted that the other man was still sitting still and watching him. Clarkson noticed the look and let out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Don't mind 'em sir, he don't talk much 'less he knows ye." Clarkson said as he sat down on a stool behind the bar.
"Ye just here to drink or are ye here on buisness?" The large man asked as he opened a bottle of ale for himself. He shot his partner a questioning look as he held up the bottle of ale, receiving no response he drank deeply from the bottle before placing it on the bar and giving Baas his full attention. Baas smiled slightly and took another drink of his ale. "The ale is surprisingly good but I am here for buiness gentlemen. My name is Baas Meijer and I am an aid to one of the members of the Council of Towns." he paused to measure the impact of his words on the two men. The one to his right still sat still and watched him, the other, Clarkson, seemed unimpressed and drank deeply of his ale. Finishing it and, leaving his empty bottle on the bar, he reached into one of the barrels for another. "There are many people on the Council concerned with recent orcish activites." Baas nodded toward Artemas " The Covians speak well of your efforts there sir. " Baas turned towards Clarkson " and we have heard you have lent a hand there as well." Clarkson gave a dull nod in response and drank some more ale. Clearing his throat Baas continued. "Word has reached the Council recently of unusual activites among various orcish camps and forts. Stronger leadership then what is usually found there and the Council would like to hire you, off the books of course" Baas grinned a little sheepishly. "They would like you and your company to clear out the orc fort near Yew and then march over to the Orc Dungeon." Baas checked to see if he could gauge the two mens interest thus far and was slightly disappointed to still find the one staring through him and the other looking out a window. Baas paused and finished his ale, setting the empty bottle on the bar he unconsciously wiped his mouth with his sleeve before starting in on his pitch again. "Once at the dungeon the Council would like you and your company to clear out as many orcs as you can from that hole. But," he paused and looked at them both "most importantly, they want you to dispatch a particular orc." He again studied both men...at least now Clarkson was looking at him, though he still seemed bored. Frowning slightly Baas jumped back in. "This orc is a powerful warlord who rides a large warg and he stays deep, deep within the dungeon. The Council would like you to bring them that orc's head! If you and your company can clear the fort and the dungeon AND " Baas stressed the word knowing this last part would hook the merc's. "bring us the head of the warlord you will be paid fifteen thousand gold!" Baas sat back triumphantly, his eyes sliding back and forth between the two men. Clarkson had sat up straighter and shot his partner a curious look. For his part Artemas no longer stared through Baas, and though he looked the same Baas no longer felt the man was ready to spring. Artemas had turned his head and was now sharing a look with his partner....both men slowly began to grin...but Artemas stopped and quickly turned his shaggy head back to look at Baas. "State yer terms, clearly...what exactly are ye hirin' us fer?" Artemas' rough low voice surprised Baas, giving him pause as he went over what he had said to the mercs, and then he reviewed it one more time for good measure before speaking. "The Council would like you to kill all the orcs at the orc fort located between Britain and Yew, and then you and your company would march to the Orc Dungeon in Yew. Again, killing all the orcs found within the dungeon and specifically the orc warchief within that rides a large warg. Bringing them the warchief's head as proof that you have slain him. Do this and you will be paid fifteen thousand gold to be split however you see fit." Baas paused for a moment and then he nodded. "Those are the terms." He said as he rested his hands on the bar. Looking at Clarkson he gestured towards his empty bottle "May I have another one please?" he asked.
Artemas had listened closely to Baas' terms and then turned to give his partner a look and a sharp nod. Clarkson, for his part grinned and brought out another ale for Baas, sliding it across the bar as he spoke "This one is on tha house and ye sir have got yerself a deal. We accept yer terms, but we'll need a couple a days to get things in order. " Clarkson paused and shot his partner an amused look. " and yer gonna have to give us at least five thousand gold up front. Deposit and all, ye understand."
Baas took another drink as he listened and smiled to himself. He had expected them to ask for half and was slightly surprised that they had not. "That sounds very resonable gentlemen. I will make arrangements with the local bank and you shall have your deposit by the end of the day. With the understanding that you will perform the requested tasks within the week. Agreed?" He smiled as he finished. The mercenaries leaned in to talk with one another briefly. Artemas stepped back and turned towards Baas. Spitting into the palm of his right hand he held it out towards Baas, who frowned only slightly, before grasping the offered hand and giving it a firm shake, and then repeating the process with Clarkson.
Baas finished his drink and thanked both men. " I look forward to seeing your results gentlemen. Good hunting!" and with that he turned and made his way to the door and through it. Smiling broadly as he walked back towards the bank, wiping his hand on his pants leg as he walked, he thought to himself that if the mercenaries managed to succed it worked out well for the Council, and if the mercenaries failed then the Council was only out five thousand gold, which was nothing to the orginazation. And if they were successful perhaps there were other jobs that the odd pair could do for the council....off the books of course.
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The Ronin of Ishiyama
By Mal | July 4, 2019
“They are late,†the young woman said with crossed arms. The middle age man beside her nodded absentmindedly, his full attention given to the fish grilling over a bed of coals. The young woman continued to look out to sea as if she could through sheer force of will call the boat to appear over the horizon. “They should have been here by now,†she thought as she began to tap a foot. A loud sigh brought her attention away from the sea. She shot a glance at the older man bent over the bed of coals. “Aren’t you worried?†she asked clearly annoyed. “The only thing I am worried about is all the noise your armor is making with each tap of your foot. It is distracting and cooking is an art. It requires absolute concentration.†Her brows furrowed but she stilled her foot. “Here Hanamara, eat this,†the middle age man said lifting a speared fish from the fire over his shoulder. The young woman reached for the spear but quickly paused. “That’s still raw…†she said even more annoyed. The older man simply peered over his shoulder with a smile. “Oh...I know that look. Don’t you get philosophical on me, Masao.†The older man’s grin beamed into a wide toothy smile. “Very well. I will spare you this time but be patient. Remember, scattered as we were there is no telling if and when our band will be complete again.†Hanamara took in his words and let out a deep breath. She knew he was right but still... “The letter said today,†She added after a moment. “And I told you ten minutes for dinner but to be honest with all this chatter I fear it will be closer to fifteen,†Masao said while turning the fish over on the coals. “Life happens,†he added as he seasoned the sizzling fish. That was a truth they both knew all too well. “Hai, so da ne†Hanamara answered in their native tongue. They had lived through that truth since their fated meeting when they were jailed beside each other all those years ago. The memory brought a smile to her face. She and Masao had broken out that same night. And since then they traveled together. Town to town, province to province. Everywhere they traveled they helped people like themselves, the downtrodden, the oppressed, and the outsiders. As time went by their duo grew. People from all walks of life came to join them “No tashi Orai,†She said to herself, remembering their mantra of “To make many one.†And born out of their travels and deeds were the Ronin of Ishiyama. Yet their deeds and success were not welcomed by all. Powerful lords in their distant homelands banded together and sought to smother the growing band of Ronins. “No honor...unforgivable,†She said with a sudden flash of anger under breath as the memories came back to her. She could recall the surprise attack, the fire and chaos, and the death of so many of her fellow Ronins. She could still feel the shame of waking up at sea with only Masao looking over her. Before her thoughts could go any further, she felt a hand on her shoulder. “They will come, and in these new lands we will continue what we started. Now, dinner is ready. If you are quite finished brooding...let us eat,†Masao held a cooked fish out to her. She suddenly realized how tense she had become. She let out a deep breath and took the fish from her close friend. “They will come, in this I know you are correct,†she said to Masao as she gave one final glance to the open seas.
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The Ronin of Ishiyama are a band of people from a mysterious and distant land. Whether you are an honorable samurai, a stealthy ninja, or master tea brewer, all people from this distant land are welcome to relocate and join their Ronin brothers and sisters in Britannia. For more information message Hanamara or Picacho on discord or in game. There will be an ongoing guild event, in which players will help rebuild an abandoned castle for the purpose of building a new home for the wayward Ronin!
Important Note: All guild members will be asked to refrain from using artifacts or runic armor. This is to promote a balance playing field among players, keep the combat challenging, and to promote us to work together to overcome challenges. Runic weapons will be allowed. All new members will receive a free suit of armor upon joining the guild.
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Maintenance Scheduled
By Nala | June 30, 2019
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Garfield Evanstark : A Profile
By Wolf-Isa | June 25, 2019
The two youths clicked like it was fate and were soon married right before Garfield's apprenticeship as a physician's aid at the University was to begin. Leena was interested in following her father's line of work and worked to increase her skill as a seamstress, often making her new husband robes, aprons and other articles for his more in-depth classes so he would never run out of clean proper clothing for it. In addition, she also enjoyed maintaining a gorgeous garden at her new family estate and the couple would often spend their evenings sitting together in each other's company there.
Some years in to the marriage, Garfield's parents passed away. His father first, then mother shortly after as age finally caught up with them but their loss didn't affect him as terribly as he had Leena and she supported his grief. With her help, he finished his apprenticeship and became a full-fledged physician and opened his own clinic. Eventually he took on an aid of his own, a man named Harald that was a little too enthusiastic about his learning, taking to sniffing smelling salts to keep himself awake, often for days at a time despite Garfield's warnings of the health concerns and how it looked for a man practicing medicine to do such things. Harald grew an addiction to his habit and the physician had end his apprenticeship abruptly.
Nearly a year later, Leena's father's shop began to experience troubles. An unexpected drought had significantly decreased the supply of cotton and wool needed to make fabric for the garments they sold. Between her and her father and Garfield's financial aid they were able to keep the shop from shutting down but the equipment had suffered during this time. Splintered wood and rusted metal lead to even more difficulties. But before Garfield could pay for repairs or replacements, Leena's father continued on anyway and eventually, tragedy struck. One day while working at the shop, Leena was scratched by one of the rusted spinning wheel spindles without realizing. She went about her life as normal, continuing to work at the shop and at home to help her father and maintain her garden until her health suddenly took a turn for the worst. The scratch had gotten infected at some point without her noticing from how busy she had become.
Her husband desperately attempted to treat Leena, using every single concoction, spell and minor surgical procedure he knew of, even agreeing to take Harald back in to assist to save her but the infection having gone so long without treatment had made its way in to her bloodstream. It wasn't long before she passed away from the infection and Garfield fell in to a deep depression.
He sold his clinic and withdrew to solitude in his family estate. Leena was buried on the grounds outside the house, her sewing room was locked and abandoned, same for her garden where the plants were left to wither and die off over the following years. Harald moved in to the house to watch over his mentor, despite still dealing with his own addiction and he became responsible for many things regarding the home and Garfield. The physician himself took to drinking heavily and would often sit outside the door of either of his wife's places in the middle of the night. He spent an extraordinary amount of gold commissioning an artist to sculpt a statue of Leena that was placed in the stairs of the estate that replaced his midnight rituals.
Some years later, while he still was still grieving though less so, he was approached by the headmistress of the Arcane University with the offer of a teaching position in her school. Initially, Garfield rejected the offer but Harald convinced him. He told the widower that even if he couldn't save Leena, he could still teach others how to save their loved ones. He agreed eventually and took the position.
Now as the appointed professor of Medicine and the Healing Arts of the university, Garfield takes a hard stance on the learning and practice of his craft and expects his students to follow suit as it will be them that one day will hold someone's life in their hands.
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Marcus De’Alinue: The begining
By Oldoff | May 12, 2019
Breaking his daydreaming, Marcus had work to do. He had to go check on his newest storefront in Narrowhaven. A quick walk found his boots making that tell-tale "Clicking" as they walked across the planks of the docks. A smile formed across his lips as he watched a ship unload goods, a ship with his families sigil a dragon clasping a rose on a field of purple. A sigil he created to build the illusion that he was more than he really was. He mouthed One day as he made his way through the crowd of workers going this way and that way, eventually finding his way to Dragonstone Imports.
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He who feeds on dreams and despair
By Parallissi | March 20, 2019
A deep sigh whispered by a man, close to the tiny carcass. He moved the left edge of his cherry-red mantle, behind his shoulder.
"How long will it take?" he hissed, gazing in front of him.
He then slowly proceeded through the unlit corridor, hearing squeaks and grumblings from the dwellers of that place.
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