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PostPosted: Nov 15th, '07, 14:59 
Level 15 Player Character
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Joined: Feb 15th, '05, 12:02
Posts: 545
Location: Panik Manifesto
Strigoiu was never usually the one to speak unless it held real meaning. He lived and breathed the environment around him, the winds and the trees served as comfort to his lonely soul. It was this night that the rough loner tracked those he believed to be responsible. Strapping his icy warhammer to his back, he crouches, crawling through the underbrush to peer over the muddy hill.
There was little noise as dark figures wandered in line across the valley. He counted three. All adorned in dark robes, moving quickly and gracefully across the grass. Crawling closer still, he clenched his fists as his vision adjusts, his pupils turning from forest green to a dull white, seeing the spectral auras of his prey.
Just as he suspected.
Creeping back down, he lay upon his back, peering up through the trees to stare at the stars and the full moon. After a few moments, he begins to feel a rise in his pulse. He clenches his fist and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. Thoughts creep into his mind. Images of the screaming men and women. Of black magic turning blood into sharpened spears to impale the innocent. He mutters to himself quietly, this time, with meaning.

"I will make them pay."

-~-

Althannor bid goodbye to the last clergyman of the forgotten tower; Word reached his lord's ears that a presence stirred in the old lands of Lacrimosus. Considerable movement of undead was reported by the scouts. Althannor was the best Undead Hunter they had. His numerous successes at rooting out small elusive vampire covens and protecting travelers from the mindless, walking dead earned him a reputable title across the lands. Dropping his mace into his belt and grabbing his pack, he set out to the lands of Kym Lun - a good eight days walk.
Along the way there was evidence of corruption upon the natural landscape. The movement of numerous undead was apparent, going in the same direction as him. Kneeling down, he felt the humanoid tracks with his hand. They were slow and drunk. No doubt the hobble of zombies. Moving further on, he noticed another set. Bone like feet. It was clear that a skeletal army was part of the group as well. Zombies and Skeletons don't usually work together, unless of course a Mage or leader of such were controlling the horde.
It is night when Althannor arrives at the Solinar River Valley. After a few minutes of getting his bearings, one thing catches his eye besides the wandering orc tribes. A man, on his stomach, peering over a hill. A warhammer was noticed, strapped to his back. Althannor knelt within the underbrush as well, watching him with his warm blue eyes.
"What do we have here?"


-~-

"Mother, perhaps we sshould establish an alternative route to Lamia. No doubt we draw attention. Perhaps you could erect a port-"
"Do not doubt Aenima, Aetheos." Mirri spoke softly, but commandingly.
The robed figure in front quietly whispered.
"Enough from you both."
Three figures walk through the valley, keeping to the shade that the trees give off from the moonlight.
Hours passed as they traveled over hills and through dark forests. There, on top of a hill, in the gloom of nightfall, stood Castle Lamia, abandoned many decades ago. Moving closer, bat cries echoed through the dead, corrupted forest, as they flew overhead.
They reached the rundown gateway and all three stood before the magnificent but old fortress, peering up at its spires.

"We have work to do."

_________________
"No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees."


Last edited by AcidZealot on Jan 24th, '08, 03:07, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Nov 17th, '07, 05:15 
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Location: Panik Manifesto
"What is your name?" Strigoiu asked quietly, but gave no effort to be polite.
"Damien." He replied cautiously.
"Tell me what you were doing out in the jungle."
"I was hunting, sir... my family sells pelts... I've had this afflic-" Damien was cut off.
"I want you to meet me at the old jungle tonight. Where the truth was revealed. Do not delay. Speak to no one of this. The risk is on your shoulders should you speak."
Strigoiu warned the man. He knew that exposure so early in the game could destroy his future. They departed immediately, but the rougher man heard patrons in the Jack Ox Pub discussing his prey. Taking a mental note, he will find them and question them later.

Night fell, and Damien set out. The destination was where he saw, to his horror, another like him. His curse was no longer just in his family. Damien's mind was too preoccupied to realize he was being followed, but he took the long way around just in case he was, however ineffective it was. A few hours passed into the night, and he arrived admist the field of ferns. There he waited. It seemed like a long time. The night sky was lit with bright stars and the wind had an odd feeling to it.

The man's senses screamed danger immediately following the sudden noise behind him. A white light of pain danced across his vision as he immediately turned to notice a diseased, crawling corpse had bitten him in the leg. Skeletal figures with rusted swords and broken shields charged at him, hissing in necromantic power. The blood within Damien reacted, and his very body began to shift into another creature, another animal. His consciousness turned to nothing, and the creature within took over, entering a rage. Rational thought and logical sense faded into oblivion. His memory blackened out, and he become the avatar of his blood curse.

Damien's consciousness returned to him, but in a blurred state. He breathed deeply, and found himself sitting in the middle of dense undergrowth. He felt fine, if only briefly, as the adrenaline exited his system. Intense, thumping pain struck him. This time, all over, just like the blood. With a broken ankle, he sat there, hoping his natural regeneration will save his life. More rustling of the bushes was heard, and he turned his head, cursing silently to himself. A large man and an elvish woman were watching him. Finally, he thought. Some help.

Damien's spirit drifted over his body as Nathan and Celorfilia flurry about trying to save his body's life. He was already dead. He shook his ghostly head, looking down. Thoughts echoed in the spirit's mind of how ignorant the man was with the potions. But he had hope for them. Especially the elvish woman. He wondered where was Strigoiu. Nonetheless, he took a deep breath and accepted his fate. He peers up into the night sky, and an intense white light takes over his vision. So warm he thought.
So peaceful. Goodbye family. This is my path.


-~-

Althannor knew it was best to investigate the land and it's lore before doing the field work. Due to the information gathered from the local commoners and priests, the presence of undead wasn't uncommon. The hunter spent many days and nights in the Solinar Library, researching historical records and sightings of his prey. Listening into conversations in taverns and pubs became an unconscious daily task. He knew he had to be informed on what was going on. The major leaders. Their relationships. Anything and everything that would be of interest to him had to show itself. He sat down on his chair within the tavern rooms, and began to read the many books and notes discovered from his expedition so far.
"...Dragonspine..."

-~-

"Ooh, look at thiss." Mirri whispers to herself and enters Obfuscate. Crouching, she crawls to peer down at the bleeding man. Her vision adjusts into Auspex, noticing a man and an elvish woman coming up the hill, following the trail of blood.
[vm] Mirri :: No doubt the skeletal army has found ourselves a ... oh wow... a werewolf...
[vm] Aenima :: Do not linger. See what you can and move on.
Mirri continues to watch the scene unfold, watching the man's death and the feeble attempts of the two nearby to save his life. After a few moments, she chuckles softly, and her body blurs, entering Celerity. She leaves, with a smirk upon her dark red lips.

_________________
"No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees."


Last edited by AcidZealot on Jan 24th, '08, 03:06, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Dec 8th, '07, 16:25 
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Posts: 545
Location: Panik Manifesto
A night owl hooted. He sat in silence, his dark hazel eyes watched the crackling fire, lost in thought. There was a comfortable silence in the forest. Alone, ever since the elimination of his family. The loneliness shaped him, crafted him, molded him into a plotting and planning lord or king. He added a log to the fire, illuminating his rough features and the tent behind him. He frowned, and glanced up at the twisted trees. His senses confused him. When the fiery orb in the sky was expected overhead, it was still as gloomy as the grave, and even darker still during nightfall hours. These woodlands are cursed, he thought.

The Lacrimosian woodlands felt like a burden or weight upon the soul. A depression hung wearily on those that walked it's soil. Strigoiu noticed these feelings; they tugged on his will. Darkness. Suicide. Pain. Emptiness. Devoid of life. I wont be here long, he agreed. Once I find out what the ruckus is going on, i'll be on my way...


-~-

[The Journal of Sanctity, Chapter 1, Entry 6; Kymlum Realm]

I have come to understand a great many things since my time spent here. I wish to say this first - The presence of undeath here is great. Considering this land's history regarding Maun T'Har (In the old tongue) and the acts of hell upon this unholy city, I shouldn't be surprised. Palemasters followed their lord, Yurth, who in turn, was manipulated by a greater force in Hell. While these details still remain unspoken, I'm beginning to see the bigger picture. Maun T'Har's downfall was echoed to be spectacular by many tavern bards. Ghazakiin were involved, along with another group whom I cannot describe. But nevermind that, that was the past, and I miss the point of this entry.

I spoke to a few travellers on the road, and they call these lands Lacrimosus. It means tearful, mournful, shedding tears. It certainly felt like it as I walked it's roads. Some foul dark magic is present, and I must investigate further. It was these roads that the horde of undead passed through. There is a village nearby. Perhaps further answers can be found there.

-Althannor.


-~-

"With the blood of the Black Slayers, I am capable to adapt it to freshly sslain corpses to create the Ferratus. Cases are, rather unpredictable. While some awaken with a heartbeat, others do not. Nevertheless, they all wake up... eventually, one way or another. Alternatively, injecting their blood into gargoyles createss an odd being indeed." Aenima examines multiple vials and bottles of sanguine liquid. With a soft twirl of her wrist to stir the contents, her black lips form a sly smirk.
"Mirri, would you like to try it?"
"I will decline your generous offer, Mistress, for I already see the effects of such a substance has upon your corpses, and shudder to think what influence it would have on mine. Why don't you ask Vaern?"
"Not right now. Amusement will come all in good time, my dear. We will agree to put it aside for now. Ssomething wicked will come this way eventually, and I ssimply cannot pass this opportunity to test my more interesting applications." Aenima puts down the glass bottle, and takes the nearby quill, noting down the properties of her subjects upon the pages of a heavy leather-bound book.

"I've always enjoyed Transmutation. I hope our guests feel the ssame."

_________________
"No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees."


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PostPosted: Jun 26th, '08, 01:13 
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Location: Panik Manifesto
He spat blood. Hunched over, finding difficulty in breathing, the man weakly clawed at the soil and leaves of the forest floor. Towering trees, heavily armoured with bark, littered the place of his temporary refuge. With great effort, the man pushed himself to sit and lean his back against one of the natural spires. Grunting in pain, a rough hand clasps the side of his torso, and crimson liquid slips through the cracks of his dirtied fingers.
The soft night breeze carried along a frightening wail of death. With a bitter scowl, one formed from anger and pain, the man's lupine eyes focused into the gloom.

Nothing.
Nothing at first.

A few moments passed in silence, before the gloom in the distance gave existence to a large whisp of pale red mist. Potent unfathomable energy began to swirl around an intangible object, which sinisterly shaped into the figure of a female humanoid. Pale skin materialized, garbed in ancient but twisted black armour, which covered her human-like form. Long, dark grey hair became discernible, dancing in the wind across her luminous, ghostly eyes. Wicked with sin, sickle in hand; she approached with deadly ambition towards the man slumped against the tree. Her movements were odd - lethargic but determined. The man muttered.
"Corpori..."

-~-

"Wretched Undead. You will taint this land no longer." Althannor spoke strongly and directly. A frontal confrontation with the humanoid before him was risky, especially as Lamia Castle loomed behind. With no allies to accompany him, Althannor doubted the wisdom of his own actions. He knew, however, that to leave the Vampire Lord Nerva now, he would miss on the opportunity to strike him down when his more powerful allies returned from wherever they had gone.
"Not right now, Cleric. I have no time for this." With a frustrated gesture, Nerva Animadverto spoke quickly as he stared up at the blonde armoured man on the rise.
With a thunderous crackle overhead, the man blessed by the heavens raised his arms to the darkened sky and called forth the power granted to him by his mysterious god. The liquid void overhead forcefully parts as a beam of radiant white light penetrates the cursed atmosphere, shining over Althannor.

But something Althannor never expected occurred.

Suddenly and without remorse, a divine energy also covers the Vampire Lord in an instant. Not something from the heavens, but something dark, supernatural, a shade of crimson. The nameless energy acted. With black intent, it jumped to the man on the rise. Reacting against Althannor, the force seared him across his flesh, striking him senseless, scorching the earth. It was painful, violent, but quick. The Undead Hunter was defeated, for now.

As his soul parted from his body and ascended once again to be judged, he looked down.
"What are you…?"

-~-

"Why do you approach? Is it death you seek, parasite?" Three tall genderless Rakshasa-like creatures spoke in unison, their voices a audible blur of male and female. Dressed in exotic desert style garb, littered with large, beautiful gemstones of all types on their comparatively rough leather boots and gauntlets. A soft, perpetual blue personal aura surrounded each one as if blessed by the divine. As they stood proudly around the elvish-like woman, their unsheathed ruby scimitars gleamed in the mysterious glow of the above; The Void and it's desolation.

The elvish woman hissed softly.
"I know your role in all of this. The Keeper no longer dwells within his own consciousness. And now that you are here, you will fall; for all those that remain under these darkened skies, will perish." Ænima Animadverto spoke calmly as much as she could, for if the Avatar decided to attack her now, her ability to triumph was in question. Even under her own domain, the Elder began to regret deciding to converse with the Avatar alone.
"What you seek is no longer here. Your journey is all for naught."
The three Rakshasa Raja spoke in unison once again.
"Aah, The Contingency Vessel... It will please the mistress to have such divinity for herself." With a flash of intense purple energy, the three were gone, leaving Ænima alone amidst the cold, barren Void.

_________________
"No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees."


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PostPosted: Oct 22nd, '08, 03:16 
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Joined: Feb 15th, '05, 12:02
Posts: 545
Location: Panik Manifesto

_________________
"No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees."


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PostPosted: Oct 23rd, '08, 21:57 
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Joined: Feb 15th, '05, 12:02
Posts: 545
Location: Panik Manifesto
Ranger scouts report that Lamia castle vanished during the Night, leaving only its stone foundations. Scholars who specialise in the supernatural predict that possible reasons include the increase of hostile activity, and leaving after taking all that was valuable that the Ghazakiin allowed. Economists believe that the latest dark project 'The Black Obelisk' must have deemed completed and was tested to be sufficient, and that the research was taken.

Over a period of many months, The Nightmare Curse slowly departed, bringing warm sunlight into the land, eventually allowing the dead trees within the Hills to wilter and rest in peace, giving opportunity to new vegetation to grow and prosper, turning the bleak landscape into a comfortable, habitable zone, where squirrels and bunnies hop about in the green sanctuary.

Lacrimosus township became deserted due to lack of security from Lamia and bright light from the sky. It's inhabitants may have been amalgamated into Nherazkar although this is not certain.

The Moongate zombie infestation finally ceased, and most evidence of the undead presence fades away, besides the thick, crunchy area of lifeless skeletons in the boneyard within The Deadlands. Woodlands surrounding the once cursed village also come into serenity, bringing the songbirds, insects and all manner of life into its once forbidden branches.

What once was an estate for two powerful Wraith entities, now rests an abandoned but calm crypt, respecting the dead, death, and beyond.

The large valley, seemingly called 'The Valley of Lords', still dwells in silence, its large stone blocks rigid as ever. Vegetation takes over the surface, bringing tranquility to the area.

Darkness and evil takes flight from Lacrimosus, but the history of foul deeds, sacrifice, undeath and dread beauty never leave, nor forgotten.

_________________
"No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees."


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