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A new Dusk (dec entry Manfred Carstein)
By Phaere | December 22, 2014
He thought he heard something while resting, and indeed, Igor had decorated the crypt, to celebrate his 231st birthday. Manfred sighs, 'I should have been dead for over one and a half century by now, gone and forgotten'. And while i am dead for over two centuries, I have not been forgotten at all, at least not by igor.
'Nights like these make me want to crawl under a heavy tombstone and never wake up, but that would be to give up, and a Carstein never gives up!' he tells himself. leaving the crypt and entering the house in search of breakfast, he sees Phaere, who knows enough not to congratulate him, instead she excuses for not forbidding igor to decorate it all, 'sorry, i have been busy with academy matters, it slipped my mind'. 'At least you can congratulate yourself on not letting the beast inside taking over for another year' she says. He nods and walks to the cellar where his blood is stocked. 'You know you are the sole reason it has not taken over, I was damn close when you found me all those years ago' he tells her.
Sipping a vintage beverage, he ponders the rising of a vampire clan somewhere in the lone isles, 'bloody stupid, the lot of them, as if being a vampire is something to be proud of, I am a human, born and raised, my family was human, but they are all gone now, only I am left of the once great house of the Carsteins' He thinks back on the night it happened, going to rescue the millers daughter from the clutches of the local Vampire clan back in Sylvania. Though noone knew about vampires then, he thought it would be some goblins, or maybye some lizardmen who abducted her, maybye some of those pesky elves, never such dread monsters as he did encounter though. He still remebers the taunting of the packleader when they overpowered him 'you are one of us now' he said, after having bitten him, 'we will live in your castle now and feed of the locals without fear of retribution'. 'Never' he said, and lopped of the head of the leader with his sword, 'I will never be as you!'.
'Igor' he shouts, 'take down that decoration, there is nothing to celebrate today, and saddle my mount, i have monsters to kill!'
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Reflection (december entry for Kairi Vel)
By Bella Morta | December 21, 2014
She does a push up and slides herself out from underneath the dye table. She rolls onto her back and stares up at the thatched ceiling. With the back of her arm she rubs the sand that's embedded itself into her skin from her face.
"Mornin' Sunshine!" Tully says, announcing his presence. He is always there, bright and early, prepping the shop for the days sales. She tilts her head up to see him, smiles, and lays it back down. "Whatcha 'ave on yer schedule ta-day Miss?" Tully takes out a notebook and flips it to the next empty page. He dips a quill in ink, and waits for her to dictate.
"No to-do list today, Tully" she says melancholically. With a sigh, she hoists herself up into a kneeling position. She throws her long and loosely twisted locks over her head, shaking the sand out with her fingers.
"No?!" Tully exclaimed, sounding shocked by this. For months he's been taking down her to-do lists. Every so often, she would find herself at the hut, lost, forgetting what she was supposed to be doing. It helped her stay on track.
"Today, I would like to dictate a letter. To my sister, Ellora, of Oakglen." Tully nods his head and rips the clean sheet from the notebook. "To Ellora..Vel?" he says as he readies the quill.
"My dearest sister Ellora," she responds. "It is a personal letter, Tully. Please, take this down word for word".
As Tully takes to writing in the slow steady manner that he does, Kairi flings her hair back over head, letting it fall softly on her shoulders. She knee-crawls over to her full length mirror. Sitting crosslegged in front of it, she leans in close to her reflection. She gazes into her doe shaped eyes, green with a star of light brown around the pupils. She muses a moment, losing herself within these windows to her soul...reflecting on memories, reflecting on her true nature.
"I regret to inform you that I am nearing my end, for I, your half-blood born kindred, am suffering from the ailments of human minds at this age. I have been..."
She pauses, stuck now in the trance her eyes have put upon her. Everything goes blank; she knows of only her reflection at that moment in time.
Tully clears his throat, and she slowly comes back to reality. "I..." she pauses and looks around, not knowing what she was saying.
Tully re-reads what she already dictated. For fear of getting stuck again, she sways back from her reflection and starts doing her hair. She twists her soft butter locks into one rope braid, and fastens it to the side with a scrap piece of leather lace. She pulls some of the side hair down over her slender pointed ears to cover them, all the while knowing that later on in the day when she becomes more disheveled, they will poke through. But for right now, it brings her comfort to see them disappear behind the tufts of hair. "I have been blessed with my youthful appearance.. no, scratch that Tully. I can't remember what I was getting at."
"No worries, Ma'm. Take yer time."
She sweeps the palm of her hand over her light beige complexion, getting rid of a few grains of sand that don't seem to want to part from her. Displeased with her paleness, she pulls a sewing needle from the sand next to the mirror, and pricks the end of her fingertip. She squeezes the wound until a bead of blood forms. Kairi traces her fingertip across the pout of her bottom lip, and dabs the high arches of her top lip. She smacks her lips together, now bloodstained and reddened with her natural lipstick. Next, she smears a streak of blood across each cheek, rubbing it into her skin in a fashion that gives the illusion that she doesn't have such high of cheekbones. This is an elven characteristic that she dislikes, as well. She prefers the rounded faces of humans over the heart-shaped ones.
"Ma'm?" Tully asks, quietly. This letter had begun to depress him. He knew for a long time she was stricken with something, but didn't know it was this bad. Or, maybe he just denied it. Every day he walked into a shop where his employer was the kindest, most beautiful creature he had ever encountered. He had grown to respect her, if not love her, even though he knew some of her dealings were less than legal. Hell, she found him in the sewers, and everything is less than legal down there!
"Oh yes!" she exclaims. She grins at her reflection in the mirror, putting on her most sincere of smiles, her eyes curling up into half moons as she masks her gloom within. "I do not have a child, nor a husband. I wish for you dear sister, to be my heir. I have, since your visit, built a small clothing empire for myself and have aquired a small manor in the town of Mythndale. If I shall pass, I write you this, as my last will and testament. All I own is yours, so long as you tie up any loose ends. Tully has my diary, and all my business dealings are written therein. Complete any tasks left open, and take my pride as your own. If I could see you one more time, I so do wish it. But I know we left on bad terms, and I am eternally regretful. Your's Truely, Kairi Vel."
Tully pokes the paper with the quill as the last sentence is completed. Kairi gets up and opens her chest. She pulls out a lovely dress with frills and laces, and pulls it on over her petticoat. Tully walks over and she turns her back to him. He pulls the corset strings taught and ties them, so that it hugs her slim waist and squeezes her cleavage together provocatively. He then fits a circlet to her head, making her look fit for nobility. She brushes the remaining sand from her arms, takes a deep breath, puts on a fake smile, and takes a few light steps out the door. Before moving onward, she turns to Tully and asks, "What's on the list for today?"
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Donation Store Update
By DoubleA | December 17, 2014
Character :
Any 1 skill to 100 - $5
Any 1 skill from 100 to 120 - $5 (No power scrolls needed)
Advanced Character Tokens:
Expert: 500 Skill Points Distributed. Individual Max of 80. - $5
Grandmaster: 750 Skill Points. Individual Max of 100. Max Stats - $20
Legendary: 1000 Skill Points. Individual Max of 120. Max Stats - $50
Bank:
+125 Bank Storage - $10
+50 Bank Storage - $5
Housing:
Custom Plot Combinations - $5 (Combine one plot to others.)
Custom Plot Movement - $5 (Move a house and its full contents. Any facet.)
Town-House Exterior Lockdowns 1-tile Max - $5 (Must be public)
Town-House +500 Lockdowns/Secures - $5
Decorations:
Ten Credit Mix and Match. Monthly Decorations. - $5 (We will work with the people and offer a wide variety of decorations. See monthly staff auction posts for more details.)
Various Ethereal Mounts - $5
Resource Packs - Same as listed on the donation page accessed from the website.
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Stepping out of the shadows a man appears. Or a figure ofone
By Mob Hunter | December 16, 2014
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The Svarthammar Brothers (Dec. Entry)
By JuicJuzz | December 16, 2014
"Ken ye valk?"
"No brother, I can barely breathe, what is it, can you tell me?"
"Leh me teek a look"
Young man looked at the bruise on his brother's chest and shaked his head.
"Ya 've four ribs brohkn, 're's na wai ye kan travl."
Gunwald looked around and drew his blade silently out of the scabbard.
"They'r 'ere. Nah ordnry sohlders..."
Their paths crossed on a small clearing. Carrying his brother on his shoulder and desperately trying to fend off the attackers with his battered and rusty blade, Gunvald was desperately trying to make a run for it.
Suddenly he noticed a two-headed Griffon swooping over their heads, carrying a black-robed figure. Long lost word of magic were uttered and out of thin air, a red portal emerged. Gunvald jumped in.
There was music and a smell of freshly baked apple pie in the air.
"'eer are ve?" asked the younger of the two. "The sign says 'Narrowhaven', brother"
-----------------------------------
Kurt Svarthammar was born on the day of midwinter, 46 years ago in a peaceful faraway land called Kungsriket to Jacob "Cobber" Svarthammar, a renowned shipwright and Malin Svarthammar, a tailor extraordinaire. They were dancing through times of wealth, peace and prosperity and every single blue and yellow rose in their garden was in full bloom on the first 21 midsummers of Kurt's life.
Kurt, being physically quite well suited for heavy labour, became a respected lumberjack and eventually started an apprenticeship in his father's workshop. Whistling a melody called "The Lumberjack Song" he smiled, nailed the nails and cut the boards.
On midsummer day, the twenty-second one in Kurt's perspective, his evening-star brother, to be known as Gunvald "Gune Dimvald" Svarthammar was born.
Gunvald did not (and still won't) understand why the other kids would pick on him calling him "Dimvald" or other less appropriate names. It was neither his purple eyes, nor his golden hair. He did not play pranks to the local fishmonger, nor did he try to catch rank-smelling gremlins in the woods. Gunvald read. Before his 15th birthday he knew "the apprentice physician" by heart and could bind most wounds and set most fractures.
They could have seen it coming, but four centuries of peace had not sharpened the wit of Kungsriket's military. The first strike was swift. Their capital was taken by eastern archwizard Duptin's forces in a couple of days, and the terrified folk tried to hide themselves from seemingly senseless genocide the conqueror had machined.
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Colliding. (Quinn vs. Gabriel)
By Gabriel-Quinn | December 16, 2014
DISCLAIMER: Some of the images here in can be considered inappropriate or overly brutal for some. Viewer discretion is advised.
Gabriel, clad in his helmet with the shimmering steel of his blade stretched outward in his grasp, rode hard upon the gravel streets in Narrowhaven. The hellfire steed plumed smoke from it's nostrils as he drove it onward, the fiery clattering of its hooves making sparkled messes of light and embers in the wild gallop. The betrayal of one's word is not something Gabriel takes likely, the vampire having spent the last few hours defending his own.
He gritted his teeth, his tall, frigid frame set upon the bareback of the steed. With every meter he came closer, his fury became more daunting. Tightening his grip on the sword, he focussed on the other side of the shoreline, bypassing the ferries slower transport by leaping through space and teleporting, a feeble task for his own talents to accomplish.
After rounding the building on the left side, the density of the vegetation scrapped at the woolen texture of his robe. The heat from the mystical horses hooves left behind cindered imprints on the grass below, curling the green blades into withered, blacked clumps. He fast approached the door of the western hobbit house, the steed sending a simmering steam from a nearby puddle as it splashed through it with a thud. Inside, he would find the betrayer.
Reaching the door, Gabriel turned his hips hard, swooping the steed to kick it down in a fluid and unstoppable motion. As the steed turned to its side, preparing to make the kick and remove the tiny round door from its hinges, it violently crumpled below a massive red streak of muscle and flesh, booming down upon the frame of its rider. The ground under Gabriel's body trembled as the great foot crashed into his torso, driving him from the mount and into the ground, a blow that would have crushed his rib-cage instantly had he been human and unprotected by his wards.
A gust of seering hot wind blew him into the ground with incredible force as the red beast flapped its wings, gaining altitude over his head. His golden eyes watched through the slits of the impermeable helmet protecting his head as the creature flew upward in powerful beats from its' massive wingspan. Gabriel raised his hand skyward, gripping the foe in an invisible grasp, flexing hard to maintain control of it. He regained his footing and yanked down with the unseen string that tethered to his target. The horned monster writhed slightly, resisting, but darted out of the sky like a torpedo, wrecking into the mountainside in a splatter of rocks and splintering stone!
Smoke immediately filled the area, Gabriel, setting his teeth and positioning firmly in his stance, held his sword low and ready to slash upward...
"Parlor tricks from a monster? Come and meet me, you daemon!"
The bellowing silhouette of a humanoid figure appeared within the smoked wall, moving slowly, even deliberately slow.
"Parlor tricks...? Well, if that impressed you, wait until I unzip my pants..." The voice replied from behind the screen, it was sharp on the vowels, an enunciated poignancy to each word, the echo of arrogance stinging the air as it casually walked out of from behind the white smoke.
Quinn Vandoras, without any particular attention to the vampire, brushed away at his shoulders, a few pebbles loosing themselves from the velvet jacket he wore over the linked chains of his armor. He tossed a small, spherical object in his other hand, catching it without removing his crimson eyes from his own body, patting the fullness of his figure, brushing away the dust. His frame was built powerfully under the jacket, his veil rising to dual points of interest, creating a small tent beneath that separated the tips of his horns from the top of his head.
"What brings a cold-bodied slime-ball all the way out here, all full of battle-lust, ready to kick down that pathetic little door of the Unseer's home?" The calculated confidence of his question rising in correlation with his brows. He stopped walking, catching the spherical object in one fluid motion, crossing his arms over the broadness of his chest.
Gabriel eyed him, wondering quietly to himself the same question in return, but instead of mincing words, he dashed at Quinn raising the sword in an upward fashion, preparing to execute a lightning quick razor strike into his enemy's chest. His enemy, however, recoiled with a smooth gracefulness, arching over backward, flipping nimbly out of the way of the fatal blow!
"Pfuh, in no mood to ta--" Gabriel's sword swung high at the tiefling's shoulder, and although Quinn spun with the slash to mitigate the damage, his jacket was shredded by the blades shimmering edge.
Quinn blinked, and as his eyes opened, Gabriel was upon him again! The blade went high, a mistake by the attacker, Quinn swerved his head to the left avoiding it and countered, catching the vampire's wrist in his grasp, bringing an enclosed fist into the locked out elbow of Gabriel. The fist clubbed on the arm at the directed point of attack, but it was hardly noticed, the wards protecting Gabriel's body repelling the strike easily. The red-skinned tiefling, whom fancies himself the king of all things, raised his eyebrow and curled his hips to the ground, using the leverage of the vampire's arm to fling him through the air! Gabriel contorted his body in the air and landed on his feet, his legs spread wide with his hand outstretched toward Quinn.
"A nimble little cretin!" Quinn exclaimed his verbal attack, but his footing was quickly disturbed as the ground sparked to life with explosive force beneath his feet! His body sent airborne, heat bouncing off his figure, his stomach was soon blasted with a bolt of energy, flinging him from the sky and into the ground, tumbling head over heels. Gabriel capitalized, moving quickly, poisoning the tiefling's bloodstream with a click of his fingers, but the body disappeared in a small cloudy burst. Unsettled, Gabriel's reflexes could not match the dexterous and uncanny speed of the pureblood, the stab of a spears tip just piercing his back! Quinn withdrew the spear, spinning it wildly in an act of pure showmanship as Gabriel turned to meet him.
The spear's tip came to rest, pointing directly at the vampire, Quinn looked down at his feet, where his toes wiggled playfully and boots were burned away in the blast from a moment ago. "You ruin my jacket, and my boots, you are ruthle--" Gabriel attacked again bringing the sword from underneath in an upward slash! Quinn turned hard, grabbing the neck of a nearby clone and deflecting the deadly force into it. The spear rounded in a circular fashion, striking high but Gabriel easily let it pass over his head, stabbing at Quinn's midsection with the tip of his blade which met with sharp clang of metal on metal!
A warfork pincered Gabriel's sword into the ground, Quinn's foot stomped hard on the hilt, disarming! Quinn released the handle of the warfork, and with a subtle click the rust colored metal of his dagger nested in his palm, which slashed across Gabriel's chest, the wards reflecting the dooming edge of the knife. Over-extended and off balance, Quinn keeled over from the impact of Gabriel's knee, which drove his body upward in a heave, only to be wracked back down into the soil below with the crack of a lightning bolt from the air above!
Gabriel rolled over Quinn's body, retrieving the sword, tumbling over the ground gracefully, bringing the steel in front of his face just in time to parry the dagger meant for his chest. Quinn grasped Gabriel's wrist, and Gabriel responded in kind, wrapping his long fingers around the wrists of the tiefling. Setting their jaws, the two pushed and grappled with one another, the brute physical strength of the king of all matching evenly with the mystically enhanced power in the ancient guardian of the covenant.
Planting his foot in the chest of Gabriel, Quinn sprang upwards into the sky, kicking Gabriel across the helmet with his barefoot, doing no harm. Gabriel reached for him, putting the ankle of the exposed foot in a magical vice, flinging him into the dirt with crushing force. Quinn felt the wind leave his lungs, his ribs cracking as they struck the ground below, he winced breathlessly, feeling a foot come pressing down on the back of his head. His open mouth betrayed him, the wretched taste of soil and grass exploring his taste-buds!
Quinn, using the strength in his hips and legs, scissored his lower-body and curled his torso into his knees, performing a trip that swept the Vampire from his feet. Landing in a heap, Gabriel scrambled, turning to face his foe then he was again taken from his feet, and this time his body soared across the soil, slamming hard into the mountainside! His wards absorbed most of the impact, but he kicked his feet idly, raised off the ground and made vulnerable by the Daemon, a massive scarlet hand pressing him into the rocky surface behind him with disintegrating power! The sword slashed the back of the daemon's arm, and across the stomach, setting it off balance, Gabriel fired two energy bolts into its chest, stumbling it backwards, leaving himself space to fall to the ground.
Showing his fangs in a growl, Gabriel sprang forward, driving the tip of his sword toward the Daemon's chest, but catching only the flank as it maneuvered the overgrown body to the side! Quinn clutched his side, his gigantic and powerful form leaving him, blood seeping out of the crevices formed in-between his taut fingers. He writhed, and Gabriel advanced, taking advantage of the opening for a killing blow...
...the sharp edge of his sword swung high, slashing through the flesh of Quinn's neck, parting it from his shoulders!
Victory!
And Gabriel slumped forward, blinking---awestruck, feeling a numbness encroach onto his muscles... His head drooped, looking down, as the Quinn in front of him drifted away in a small cloud of dust and smoke. His fingers weakly wrapped around the wrist of an arm, driving the full length of a razor sharp dagger into his kidney, parting the flesh and organ, lodging into his spinal column. Gabriel's body was wracked in pain, his hand trembling over Quinn's flexed grip, which remained steadfast to the hilt of the blade, twisting it, the poison coating of the dagger shedding into Gabriel's bloodstream.
"Just a parlor trick... after all." Quinn's facial features bent upwards, a grin overcoming the grimace of his face as he turned the dagger into Gabriel's body, clutching at his own side---Gabriel's original slash finding home deep into his skin, cutting into a lung, the bubbling scarlet of his blood betraying the wound as near fatal.
Quinn withdrew the dagger, wiping it clean on Gabriel's robe, clicking it into place behind him. He spent the next several moments applying what bandage he could over his wound, snarling in pain as Gabriel's paralyzed body laid slumped over beside him... Quinn moved over Gabriel's body, grasping around his unbreathing neck. The golden eyes of the vampire blinked in and out of consciousness, "No no, don't go anywhere yet, we're not finished playing..." Quinn muttered aloud, pulling the body of the paralyzed vampire over to the side of the mountain, propping it up in a seated position.
He squatted down, the sloping meander of a mutt drawing close, the tiefling scratched behind the dog's ear, watching Gabriel struggle against the poison that fluttered and destroyed the nerve endings connecting to his muscles. "See, I was just here to drop off this thing to the Unseer, and there you were, all ready and aggressive, I do wonder who sent you... but..." Quinn stood up, brushing the dog aside, which wandered away and sat down in some kind of a lazy, apathetic instinct. Pushing his foot against Gabriel's head, Quinn gritted his teeth, raising his leg and smashing it onto the helmet, repeatedly.
"No.."
SMASH!
"..one.."
CRASH!
"..will.."
BANG!
"..touch.."
CRUSH!
"..what.."
CRACK!
"..I.."
CLANG!
"..do not.."
CLINK!
"..PERMIT!"
The silver of the helmet crushingly dented and contorted inward onto Gabriel's skull, who blacked out long before his body managed to slump to the side, the helmet becoming so destroyed it rolled away from his head in an awkward wobbling motion. Quinn snatched Gabriel's limp body, lifting it by the locks of bloodied, formerly raven-black hair. The dagger escaped its' resting place from Quinn's back, and he peeled the lips of the fallen vampire upward, tilting his head to examine him...
The point of the dagger drove wickedly, with a crunch, into Gabriel's mouth, wedging itself into the socket that held the left fang in place. Steadying himself, Quinn anchored the dagger upward violently, the ivory fang snapping free from the socket with a hollow, gruesome, pop! Blood splattered down Gabriel's motionless face, oozing out of the emptied socket, leaving only a wiggling nerve-ending in its' wake. Quinn braced his forearm against Gabriel's bruised and bloodied head, pinning it against the mountain, ejecting the other fang in the same disgusting and brutal manner.
"...you won't be turning her, now, will you?" His red face turns, sucking at his own teeth. "Okay, time to go... I've just the place for you, you'll feel right as rain in it... it's dark, and foreboding, and cold, and small, like a coffin... you'll love it."
...and Gabriel's body fell, unconcious, landing with a sickening and bone-breaking clatter onto the stone floor, well below the lowest floor of the Academy. His body mangled and broken, unmoving within the stark emptiness of the obsidian prison.
Quinn limped away, patting the dog on the head...
"Let's get you home...."
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Through another’s eyes – (December contest entry)
By Arthur | December 15, 2014
The manor stood a stark contrast to the open fields about it. It had been placed with defense in mind, and only later aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Its owners held riches. That was apparent.
The most expensive of such was in the west corner bed room.
He’d been tasked two months prior to watch this woman. He’d gone soft for this particular task. The dark gray cloak swirled about his figure as he leaned against the dark rock of the outer wall.
The guards had become extremely predictable just in the application of their duties. Same routes, same times. Two moving in pair around the outer wall every four hours.
Two moving in the bottom floor of the manor, and two outside of her door.
Rotated every eight hours. So he had that much time to watch.
He grabbed onto the rock with his fingers, power emitted through his muscles as he pulled himself up the wall scaling it with fingertip and boot tip. his clothes were all gray muted.
He achieved the top of the wall and almost chuckled. It was covered in bits of broken glass and pottery embedded in the surface and mortar. But the wall was literally less then a foot in lenght. He simply pushed off with his legs as he toed the edge and dove head first over the wall. Tucking as he fell to roll on a shoulder and come up in a low crouch looking about.
The Hood he wore fell from his features exposing the strong jaw line, the Deep set eyes of dark blue. Black hair cut close to the sides of his head, but longer at the top.
He reached up pulling the hood back into its place, the cloak falling from his strong arms, covered in a variety of scars and old wounds.
Light flashed as a sash was drawn clear of a window.. the very one he had to achieve. He ducked back into the shadows of the wall and looked up watching the silhouette appear there.
Her shadow betrayed the innate beauty that she was. Tall, Slender, Willow form. The light played along her narrow jaw line, He could see her eyes in his mind.. emerald, framed with the dark lashes, slightly almond shaped, every time she blinked he felt a shudder in his chest.
Her lips were pursed as she looked out the window at the growing dark, as if she was confused.. or frustrated at something. He’d noticed this more over the past few nights.. especially if he was not in his perch before she went to bed.
She turned and moved back into the room from the window. He shifted and sprinted across the open grass to the wall of the manor. The same technique he used to scale the wall he now applied to the manor itself, his fingertips finding purchase on exposed cracks and crevices of the wall, boot tips following suit. His hand reaching the ledge just to the left of her window he pulls himself up slowly ensuring he did not brush against the wall or his clothes did not move loudly.
She was keen of hearing.. she’d heard him two nights past, a strange thing.. she’d literally looked right at him as he melded against the wall his cloak pulled tight to hide within the shadows.. That had confused him. He’d watched her supple light pink lips move.. as if she was about to call out to him.. or yell for the guards. then she’d pursed them gently under her slightly upturned nose and moved back into the room.
That night he had stayed perched upon the ledge, watching her more keenly than ever.. her movements precise.. yet occasional a stumble. This had kept him keen to watch further.
Most evenings resulted with her running a brush slowly through her blonde slightly curling hair, running it the full length down her back. First one side then slowly the next. It was ritualistic to him to watch with enraptured attention.
She was so exact.. precise with each movement. Even in combing out that silken flow of her hair. He had often sat just like this each night watching.. his head cocked to the side. He knew what was coming next. Her nightly preparation to sleep.. this even sent a shudder from the depths of his stomach through his chest. He didn’t quite understand what it was stirring in him as he watched his charge.
She slipped from the chair resting a hand against her dressing table, the same as every night. setting the brush in its precise place.
He’d moved it one night as he padded about her room as she slept. That morning before he’d slipped from the wall he’d heard her give an startled cry at finding it moved. She knew precisely where she’d placed things.. That had started a interesting game between them.
He would move small objects. not much.. just enough to see how much she noticed, and each morning he’d hear the exasperated sigh.. at first she would open the door and berate the guards for moving her things. He chuckled at that.. those dull witted individuals.. He’d caught one peeking through the crack in her door one night as she dressed.. He’d strangle not been found the next morning for change over.
This night.. though he left something different. A lilly. He’d had to do something whilst she dressed for bed.. as much as his chest ached to even watch that, he could not.. propriety demanded he look else where.. and thats when he’d spied them, growing against the wall.
He knew she would be drawing her gown from her full hips folding it gently and placing it to be taken by the morning staff for cleaning in its exact place on the chair near the door. He knew she would take exactly seven steps her hand reaching out to take the handle of the Armoire the light falling against the slightest glimpse of her slender rib cage. Her pulling on a simple night dress to sleep within. Pulling her long blond tresses from within the dress to flow down her back. Then turning.
Making those last ten steps to her bed, and gently crawling within.
He knew exactly how long he had, how long he did not have to look before returning. And in that time he’d plucked a Lilly and scaled back upon the wall. He’d took his crouched position in the crook against the wall and near her window.
His eyes gazed over her form as she curled under the blankets. tonight was a good night, she went to slumber with no tears. He slowly slipped through the open window.. the sashes pulled back. That was something that had become ritual as well.. each night the sashes drawn back. The first few times he’d had to angle to see inside insure she was there.
His feet made no sound as he moved swiftly but soundlessly through the room to the bedside table. There a single glass half full of water.. She’d awake just after dawn and take a drink of water.
He gently placed the flower in the water glass and turned looking down at her. His cool hand extended out slowly.. then stopped inches from her cheek and he shook his head..
His duty was to watch and protect.. what he desired. would never become. He turned and slipped silently back out the window. Dawn approached..
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The adventures of Jade the sorceress
By Jade | December 14, 2014
Jade sat in her study, penning in her book. She was recording her observations about the shards and fractures. She wrote down her observations about each area and the strange shapes they made. Were they all connected? What did they all mean? And what did the crystals have to do with it? Could the crystals stop the being from entering their world from the other side? She made a note about all of her hypothesis's in her book before setting down her quill. She blew on the ink and let it dry for a few minutes before closing her book and tucking it away in her satchel.
She then stood and left the study, locking the door behind her. She headed out to the location of the fractures to explore further, and see what clues she could find.
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The arcana academy opens its doors again
By Phaere | December 12, 2014
the Arcane Academy has been reopened again, there are still spots open for the teachers, but we are looking for students most of all.
The academy welcomes all, no distinction between race, gender or magical inclination, as long as you are a practicioner of the arts and know or are willing to learn how to handle a broom (and not for flying).
The academy is gathering all to defend narrowhaven and the surrounding lands from seen and unseen forces, gather knowledge of scriptures, languages and spells and to teach any and all the responsible use of magic from any and all magic school.
coming sunday at around 3 PM (server time) we will hold a staffmeeting to discuss the future of the academy and its immidiate goals.
current roster:
Phaere Do Ordas, arch magister
Samsare Ashtong, Master of novices
Arkanum, head librarian
Mauzen Zhau'nil, Master linguist
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