Player Stories

The Lost Tales of Morvran: Section II by Sinerses on 14 Jul 2008 : 20:02
The Lost Tales of Morvran: Part I, Section II

An ancient tale set to writ by copy via Sinerses, a scribe and cleric of the holy caste.

Herein follows the rest of the tale.Many call me Morvran Tehid. To my fellow Lerilin countrymen who know me, I am known as the firstborn child of Dacitas or Tehid, son of Cassidias. I was born in the port village of Lerilin, some say Rinliel (for that is what they used to call it), to the noble Hathi line of Kepfet el Liel, via my great ancestors. I have heard stories from my mother and have read my family history tomes that say he brought forth many concubines from the land of our hated kin, the Aboreans, in the country of Maralia. In the summer of 28, Year of Droughts, Red Moon I remember my father Tehid had received a letter from Cedias our provincial governor that he was to pack his property, his war gear and ride south to the galleys harbored in river Mir to do battle with the Lord of the Cyphrene Gapers at Marali at the gates of Chigran, for they were numerous in that time. I dreaded that day. I had received many broken promises from my Hathi brothers who I had befriended since I had learned to wield a wooden katana. I had earned a Fighter's pride through patience and practice, and I was ever yearning for that day I could test my skills in a real battle. But alas! My father would receive the privilege to ride that River to Sea once more, leaving me to help my loving mother on the farm. In those days, me and my kin did not know that our eternal providence was in her final death throes. My father was never to return to our island, for we had learned via the chief of the Druidae, the most venerable Guithelinas of Foehan, that aide would not arrive here from Andris' greatest Exalt-General Aurang. King Orek of that same city, dispatched a conscript declaring, Lerilini shall be left to their own devices. We countrymen were doomed via the genesis of that trek. Doom was nigh upon that first Vanguard.

We know not from where sprang our line that usurper Aternas, except that he was from the hated lineage of the Aborii. In the year of Bleeding Moon did that serpent of a man rise to lead our people. We were harassed along our western coasts by the hated Murshepim in their rugged keels; and those wild, naked people with painted faces from the far south of the Grotto of Obscenities in the country ruled by a tyrant called King Brigo. Our king, Aternas the Obscene appealed to this madman. They will drive us into the sea, these madman! They who are anathema! We shall not listen to their Black Council. We shall give praise instead to Rash and his righteous justice!

I have set to write under the oath I have given to my lord Albanius, that most venerable bard, a chronicle. Herein I have set to writ the account of the last of Ekyannah.
The Lost Tales of Morvran: Part I by Sinerses on 14 Jul 2008 : 19:59
The Lost Tales of Morvran: Part I

Found in the Shikal Underground Library in Andris

Herein lies the copyist work of a certain scribe, with which he has taken certain pains to deliver to you, the reader. It is an ancient scroll, dating back to the Ancients, to which we account, the Lost Years, for no person alive bears knowledge of it.



Morvran of Lerilin- Bleeding Moon, Year unknown



Count it all joy! A blessing from Juru that rain should come to us that day. Maybe our last miracle it was, that amidst the waning heat of the sun did we few sit on that blood-soaked field alive, but with a deathly exhaustion and a sorrow that cut deeper than a dagger. We were the last of our fallen lord, loyal to the end even to death. I pity him. Alas, it did not come to my doorstep! For my enemies say I am too undesirable for it. It seems the gods have granted my form a curse in life but a blessing in death. I despise my face! But praise and honor be granted to my lord and battle master Albanius, that noble cleric, who, in his skill before his valiant fall that day, did protect my body, comrades we were. Alas, cast forth from their hellish conclaves, that vile race of Giant and Andris brigands at last came in great numbers, but we cast them back in all our might to where they came, but with great loss to our contingency and, alas, to our supremacy. To this day, we have recorded this great battle of countries in our legendary writ. A whelp it was who provoked this tragedy, this bloodletting, to which the gods could not stay their hand. He it was who had not common decency to our king Setpanares to settle in his own lands and offer our lord his humble fealty. A traitor of our own kin, it was resolved that we should root out this scourge of a rebel. It was Fate that brought to us the shameful battle of the Andrisine Heights. A battle waged therein which Gaol deemed the end of our glory and end of peace. Some say there is a time of our kings second coming. We know not when, but in the dark mountain dwellings of Fohanis, his spirit, strong as the bear, shall return in all his splendor, savior once again of our fallen city.

May the gods have mercy on our beloved brother Mirithian. I, Morvran of the Lerilini, have seen to the task of mustering the guards to see to the towers and the great gates. We must construct stone walls, for Mirith's wooden palisades offer no safety to the wizards of Kishrak. They do not grow weary, for they have stolen the Yellow Rose from the great citadel of Aborek. It has now become a bearer of black seed, for the enemy's minister has corrupted the lord Abor on his own seat.

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

Morvran, son of Tehid was not struck at Andrisine because he was so ugly that the enemy thought he was the devil...Angelas was not struck at Andrisine because he was so handsome the enemy thought he was an angel. ---Anagogic Chronicles



Their leader was Aurang of Andris, a gentlemen who, perhaps alone of the Andrisi, had survived the shock of this notable storm; certainly his parents, who had worn the red, were slain in it. ---Sinerses Dialogues

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Troll by Alyssea on 09 Apr 2008 : 08:32
Troll


Then I saw its face. Disgustingly scary with hair growing in the wrong places, and blood red eyes. Its stuck in my memory still to this day.

Then it saw back, and charged.

I ran. No one wanted to get in the way of a charging troll. Especially not in its home habitat. Trolls were at home in the woods.



Trolls are freaks of nature. A deformed humanoid, with a large carnivore like bloodlust. Usually you dont see trolls around this area. They Usually stay down south, where they can pick off brave wanderers. But this one had wandered north and apparently learned to swim river.



The troll had caught up, and In a mass of bloodlust swung his blunt broad sword. Luckily he, or it, missed, but only just. To close for comfort, I thought. I ran faster.

After what seemed like hours, but probably was just a minute, I saw the city walls through the trees. I took the moment to look back, and thankfully the troll was struggling to keep up. I might just make it!



Soon enough, I flew through the gates.

Hail! I said quickly to the guard with short breath.

Troll Incoming!

That woke them up. They jumped to their feet, almost elegantly, and grasped their swords in hand.

A second later the tro--

A sheep?!

The guards laughed. A sheep is no threat, cowardly ranger.

Maybe I had imagined it.



I started to walk off again, when the troll in its rage leaped over a log nearby. It landed on one of the lazy guards, and thrust its old sword into his chest. The sword, even if rusty and broken, was powered by a troll. It pierced right through his armor in a fountain of scarlet blood.

Startled at the loss of their companion, they sprang into action. They started hacking at the troll. But it wasnt interested in them;

It had seen me.

Again, it charged.

I armed my bow, ready to defend myself, though it wouldnt do much against a troll.

It leaped again, but fell to the ground short.



I looked at its lifeless body. There was a huge black mark in its back, surrounding a small smoldering hole.

Only one person could cast a lightning bolt as strong as that. I looked up.

Hello Seth, I said as a red robed figure emerged from behind a rock.

Hello my good friend, hows it going? Seth replied.

I hugged my husband.

Just a usual day. Nothing exciting at all.
Painting the Town Red by Ughaovese on 01 Apr 2008 : 05:43
1.5 pages of mischief...





Painting the town red Child hood memories - Adult responsibilities



Tired, dirty, soar and still stolidly searching for Lerilin, Ughaovese smiles with simple contentment as he approaches the guards at the West Wall. Light of the gates torches dancing through the trees reminds our weary traveler of the moon glittering the waters of the beach down south, where it is hot and humid from the ceaseless waves. He wants a bath.



Stopped at a log, Ughaovese empties the rest of his wineskin and begins to feel queer with the warm sensation of mischief in his cheeks. He sets his heavy pack down against the log, and familiarly inspects its hollow. With a good heave, he pushes half his equipment into its wide shaft and hides the protrusion of the other half under a wide leafed bush.



Ughaovese sleekly hops upon the log, spins, and pushes off with a dash and a bounce landing in a cherry tree and begins to pick the juiciest of the beat red cherries. He mashes some in his mouth and chews, collecting the seeds in his hands and dropping them down to the forest floor below. He thinks of the two guards who watch the West Wall.



James, a tall lanky man with a soft dry voice and he often over pronounced his consonants. Well, I reckon we should say something. A stout operate in his religious side, Bills piety is often found as being to the likes of his spirit in the zealous fashion that he drinks them every night. This drinking comes through in his voice too, as he sounds like he is always shouting in a grumbling high pitched whine of a voice from yelling all the time. God will hold us, if you pray more James! Look a me, look a me! Pray, you gotta pray. Pray.



I know Bill. I pray every night.



A shirt full of cherries and Ughaovese quietly and quickly crosses to the north side of the footpath, crouching unseen by the guards or any other traveler. He lays with his back against a log on the other side of a small group of trees directly in front of the gate and listens for James and Bill to be moaning about work, or home life, the docks, or whatever banal, mundane activities they deplore having to do in place of their hack and slash training.



The next moment is quite a bewildering moment for a scared Bill and James when the spectacle of a blood covered Zombie comes form the woods moaning and tugging at the air as it staggers forward. Well over six feet, its face looked slim, misshapen at the jaw and from head to toe dripping with cherry and its juices. To Bill it was a horrific zombie with sully-cursed flesh; rank vile of the dark ones creation! To James it was a demon, maybe his mother come back in order of vengeance for all the times he stole apple slices from the pies innards in his youth.



Before the two guards could stab, or hack him to bits, Ughao laughs and runs into town looking for hiding and almost knocks into his good friend Kyshak, of whom is well near Master of a bow. He is made quick in the dirt by a means of a well-tossed foot. He says her name mid-flight and covers what himself as best he can previous his landing.



Kyshak, a bit bewildered hands him his badge electing him in ranking among the Lerilin Vanguard, of whom Anakajae would later vouch for. Both these great female Rangers would know well the, for now ill-disposed Ughaovese, also known to becoming well marked in his archery. Kyshak held well her laughter for this is a wildly funny scene for a ranger hangs generally alone from town. THIS is he, who was talking of co-captaining the Vanguard a while earlier She smiles.



After smiling, bowing and running to the Roasted Barley were a young giggling Sionia brings him upstairs and draws a bath, in ease and full comfort he manages avoiding the guards guilelessness. Ughaovese, the tall, skinny lark sprawls almost half way out of the hot cherry scented bubble bath, thinks of his future serving the guard. He thinks of chess for a moment and then his mind begins clouding with the shimmering image of the sun reflecting off the tropical beach from his recent trip down south. His week away fishing, lounging and rejuvenating has been great. The guard is a thing for now that makes our ranger Ughaovese tired and drowsy. Before dosing off to sleep he whispers, Near quarter of lady moons colors since I have been in Lerilin said quietly to himself. I wonder how my friends are my rangers.



~Ughaovese~

Considerations of a Wizard by Fuoco by Jinker on 15 Mar 2008 : 20:53
It's only two full moons since Fixx found me shipwrecked on the beach, weak and wounded, after a hard voyage from distant shores, yet it feels like a lifetime ago.





I have plunged into unexpected battles, died numerous times and been caught in a whirlpool of events - I have been a witness to some of the bloodshed caused by the Blood Moon and to the whole array of human behaviour contained in the Oberin microcosm - the wise, the arrogant, the fool, The astute, the passionate, the moody have formed a merry-go-round of interesting character studies, causing amusement, perplexity, surprise and occasionally scorn - well, a wizard has got feelings too!

Some Oberin dwellers have nestled in little corners of my heart and made their home there. I have met with overwhelming generosity, with enchanting personalities such as those of Sir Flingee and Captain Valerquez (will I ever forget the epic rescue from sea serpents infested waters), with the delightful Pruts II, with the kindness of Adora and Kitiana, the enjoyable company of Zarco, the sunny characters of Yanina, Fenira and, more recently, Twyla, the commitment to their causes of Solsra and Alys, the friendship of Hagar, the exquisite politeness of Rropi and Isao. There is one fearless and generous fighter who seems to have aimed his bow at my heart, who has protected me on numerous occasions and showed signs of affection.... well, I shall say no more - time will tell!

What has Fuoco the Wizard got to say for herself? What is her position in the current state of affairs? She is grateful for being accepted in this troubled land, grateful to all those (too many to mention) who have shown kindness and have made her feel welcome and is trying to build up her strength so that she can rise to any occasion. Alas! At present, she is relegated to the margins of big events, at times needing more protection than she can afford to give.

It would be premature for Fuoco to side with any faction - she is but a guest and there's yet a lot to learn and to understand. One statement she will make though - she stands for justice and for peace, she will fight against evil and she will never deny her help (within the limits of her capacities) to anybody who appeals to her in the name of a just cause or to those in genuine need.

Thank you people of Oberin for accepting me within your community - I shall endeavour not to disappoint you!

May the bright stars always shine on the path of the righteous and the kind hearted, and may Jack Burrows find his galleon and never run out of ale!

Split Loyalties or a Great New Friendship- Lerilin Vanguard and Cavalier Knights by A-Y on 14 Mar 2008 : 22:28

Year 430 Bleeding Moon



My sister and I rose yesterday with a bold and daring look at the world. We were both bound to make of the day a success. While I rested, Anakajae, bow in hand, decided to hunt in the vicinity of Lerilin, our home. Long had she been wanting to have some time to herself and her ranger instincts called her to the wild. After a time fighting off small game she decided to head back to town, at which point she made a decision that would affect us both. As Anakajae explained to me, Lerilin, is our birth home and there is no greater achievement than to be able to fight for its citizens and maintain its safety. After short consideration --some may say hasty-- she took the steps necessary to become Vanguard, speaking both with Viel and Kyshak. Given their approval she was promptly accepted, and now proudly wears the emblem of Lerilin Vanguard.

My business at that time of the day had been concluded and I was soon to make my entrance into Lerilin. I was met with the decision that my sister had taken, she only told me of her choice in passing. However, I knew, that her decision had been made in hopes of securing Lerilin which we hold so dear, and which many new people make home until they wander the corners of our world. I did not linger much on this situation and set out to do my business. The day progressed and I met with friends, helped others out, and did my best as a Cavalier Knight to protect and guard this community that I hold dear. Late into the night a friend, Erik, approached me and asked that I join him in the cemetery. I quickly gathered my belongings and we both set out to fight the skeleton scourge. At first everything seemed well, then all of a sudden zombies sprung up and Bone Mages made their presence known. We soon realized that this was no ordinary day at the cemetery and I took swift action to relay the news to the four corners of Oberin, in hopes of receiving aide. At that point it was much too late to awaken Anakajae, and it was my opinion that given the situation a clerics help would be better. Soon we were joined by other fighters who helped squelch the uproar. Swords clashed, spells were shouted, and people ran all over the place, in a frenzy, with sweat pouring down our faces, and hands aching from the fight, yet hearts full of passion, and Victory in our mouths. Looking out across the sea of faces I quickly realized that two groups made their presence heavily felt in this battle, the Lerilin Vanguard (LV) and the Cavalier Knights (CK). My heart was overjoyed to see these two groups which my sister and I hold so dear fight side by side to protect OUR city. There were Erik LV, Jaraxle CK, Chris Maar LV, Seynabou LV, Jozlyn CK, Solsra, Immolated, Eklab myself CK among others (sorry my memory escapes me). Victory was bittersweet, Jaraxle, Chris Maar, and Seynabou were taken down, but I swiftly made them rejoin the battle. Everyone fought till the very edge of death, luckily no other suffered grave consequences. At the end of the day, whilst we all stood gathered in the cemetery we all cheered for the Lerilin Vanguard and the Cavalier Knights, in our first ventures as groups we were able to join hands and fight as one:

(Yanina): mostly knights here

(Jaraxle): * clar flas bur *

(Yanina): FOR THE KNIGHTS

(Jaraxle): well... now

(Yanina): HERE HERE

(Jozlyn): THE KNIGHTS!!!

(Erik): the knights should join the vanguard

(Yanina): CHEERS

(Yanina): no

(Jaraxle): we fight along side them

(Yanina): the vanguard should be CK

(Yanina): lol

(Jozlyn): heh

(Jaraxle): aye

(Seynabou): we owe the knights our lives this morning

(Jaraxle): they should

(Yanina): YES!!

(Yanina): haha

(Jaraxle): smile

(Chris Maar): Aye, that we do

Some people may wonder how could Yanina, the Cleric, be Cavalier Knight, while her sister Anakajae, the Ranger, decided to join the Lerilin Vanguard. The answer is simple my friends, both of these groups share similar goals: the Protection of Lerilin and Oberin as a whole-- is of utmost importance; creating a friendly environment and a safe haven for the new members are ideals that closely follow. I can only hope to assuage the fears of others by saying this, no matter the name that either of us wear, our goal is one and the same the protection of Lerilin-- and Oberin-- and its citizens. Please do not be confused by our designations, it is our goals and desire to help which drive us in seeking peace and prosperity in our land. Both my sister and I will continue to fight side by side to maintain safety. I hope in the future that the collaboration between these two great groups, Lerilin Vanguard and Cavalier Knights, increases, and that they may find in each other a constant source of help and I dare say, friendship.



Yanina- Cleric- Cavalier Knights

Before Her Journey - Part 2 of 2 by Minstrel on 05 Feb 2008 : 00:02
Summary: Her earliest memories were of sheep.



Note: Cameo appearance by Sucurro. All other characters are not based on in-game characters past, present or future. A great many thanks to B for the advice and help.



Warnings: Anachronisms



Thank you for reading. Feedback would be very much appreciated.* Continued directly from Part 1 here: *





It would not be until years later, at what would be the second great upheaval of her life, that she would discover the answers to the womans riddles. She had just passed the mark of her eighteenth year and was still unmarried. Her mother bemoaned ever seeing her to the altar, but as all three of her brothers had by then wed and spawned brats of their own, her parents were not overly upsetbesides which, aside from her own comeliness they had nothing to offer as her dowry but sheep, and that, unfortunately, can be easily acquired by any man who had legs strong enough to carry him across the meadow.



Truth be told, she had not tried especially hard to find a husband. While the other village girls stumbled over their skirts (sometimes literally) to attract one of the eligible young men, she could be found wandering the countryside instead, gathering various flowers and roots, her head stuck in the cloudsher mothers words, not her own.



She had never told anyone of her conversation with the woman so many years ago in Lerilin, nor had she confessed her own dream of one day becoming an adventurer herself (a daydreamer she may be, but she was no foolshe would have been laughed clear out of the village for saying such things). Thus, no one knew that sometimes sparks of light would flit across her fingers when holding her flowers, nor had anyone noticed that the bandages that she would occasionally wrap were always more effective than anyone elses. Twas a secret she held close to her heart, and she knew that the day would come that she would be given the opportunity to seize her dream with her own hands.



That day had dawned bright and clear with just enough of a bite in the air to frost her breath. The moon had been blood red for many weeks and the village elders, wary of the increased danger, had forbidden anyone from straying too far from the village boundaries. Thus she was restricted in her daily wanderings and kept sight of the village as she plucked her ginseng and lotus flowers. However, it seemed that while she did not look for danger, danger nevertheless found her.



Mayhap it was animal instinct, or what some called a females intuition, that had her look westward right at that moment: the telltale glint of chain mail armor and sickle blades were just visible on the horizon.



Her heart lurched to her throat. Gathering her skirts to her knees she ran pell-mell to the village yelling at the top of her lungs, Mercenaries! Mercenaries to the west!



Ahead, mothers grabbed wayward children and men fled indoors; panic rose as the village hastily prepared itself for a siege. Behind her she could hear the bloodthirsty yells of the mercenaries, the metallic rattle of their armor growing steadily closer.



She rushed to her house. As her father barred the door she helped her mother hide all their valuables under two of the floorboards. Too soon the sound of splintering wood, terrified screams and mean laughter reached them.



The taste of fear lay heavy and thick at the back of her throat.



Her father gripped a pitchfork with both hands and her mother held a cast-iron skillet like a club. Her stomach churned at the thought of her parents fightingof the possibility that they might be killed or be forced to kill.



She flexed her fingers and focused on the familiar weight of the pouch at her waist that held her flowers. Somehow it did not feel right to be holding a weapon at this time.



A loud thud came from the door and the wood heaved in its hinges. Her fathers face dripped with sweat but he remained in front of his wife and daughter, pitchfork at the ready. Two more successive hits and the door gave way, breaking clean in two. She remembered the day her father and brothers had made that door.



A man with arms thick as tree trunks shouldered his way inside, mouth stretched in an ugly sneer.



Stay away, Father yelled, swiping the air with his pitchfork. Get out of my house!



The mercenary ignored him and stepped further into their home, eyes darting to the pots on the table, the single wardrobe, the wool coat hanging on its peg, her self. Mother quickly stepped in front of her, blocking the mercenarys view.



Father yelled again and jabbed the air a couple of times.



She thought how pathetically absurd it must have looked: an aging shepherd with a rusted pitchfork facing against a burly mercenary and his sickle.



Her father suddenly lurched forward with a desperate cry, swinging the pitchfork with intent this time, and her mother screamed when the mercenary absentmindedly knocked it out of his hands. Father fell hard to the floor, on his shoulder that she knew ached when the weather turned cold. Though clearly in pain he still kicked at the mercenary, flailing his limbs about to prevent the man from coming any closer to his wife and daughter.



Cursing, the mercenary raised his sickle



No! she cried, rushing forward stupidly, nothing in her head except the thought that she cannot allow her father be murdered like a stray dog in his own home.



Her fists looked ridiculously small against the mercenarys arm, but still she punched and scratched for all she was worth. She gained his attention much to her relief, and was glad that he lowered his sickle even as he swung his elbow at her face. She flinched back.



The expected hit never came however, and instead the air was split with the mercenarys pained and surprised yowl. An arrow protruded from his shoulder, the tip going clear through the chain mail.



Normally my honor would not permit me to shoot at a mans back, the adventurers voice echoed slightly under his closed helm, but you lot are lower than beasts, by my reckoning.



She watched with wide eyes as the adventurer at the doorway stowed his bow and pulled out a shield and a slim, long sword. The mercenary yanked the arrow from his shoulder and, with an enraged cry, engaged the adventurer in battle.



Quickly, she bent to her father and pulled him away. They huddled against one corner, her mother weeping softly at her husbands swollen shoulder: the socket had popped loose. Pain pierced her heart at the sight of her hearty father like this, panting and weak and injured. Very gently, she brushed the damaged shoulder with her fingertips



To this day she can recall vividly that first taste of magic, how it seemed as though her soul had lit up within her and she were only sharing this light, projecting it outward into a physical manifestation that briefly surrounded her fathers shoulder, glimmering softly for a few precious moments before fading, leaving behind skin whole and unhurt.



Her breath caught and she stared numb and amazed at her hands, at what she had done. Her parents gaped at her, tears still streaming down her mothers cheeks.



The sound of something heavy falling to the ground startled her. The mercenary lay on the floor, unmoving, blood pooling around the body. She averted her eyes from the sight and looked instead to the adventurer.



He was hurt; the blood that stained his armor was not wholly the fallen mercenarys. She rose, meaning to thank him and provide what help she could, but he only stood long enough to give a brusque nod before quickly heading out of the house. He was slightly favoring his left leg.



Wait, she said, and followed him, but the words faded the moment she saw the street.



Her peaceful, ordinary village had turned into a battlefield. The sound of sword and sickle striking armor and flesh echoed alongside the yells of mercenaries and adventurers both.



The ground was littered with the bodies of the fallen. Though most were clearly mercenaries, she closed her eyes to the sight, afraid to see a neighbor or a friend among the dead. The smell of blood and gore rose in a sickening wave and she recoiled, gagging.



You little fool! Hot metal suddenly engulfed her, jarring once, twice, three times as the adventurer who had saved her family shielded her from the blows of a mercenary. Stay back! Gods oath!



He pushed her behind him and struck at the mercenary viciously, but she could see that his strength was flagging. He could barely hold his shield and the mercenary struck true more often than not. She knew that he would die if she did not



Calling forth the light seemed slightly easier now that she knew it was there, waiting to be used. As little sparks danced around him, the adventurer paused and shot her an astonished look from beneath his helm. Then he turned back to the mercenary, yelling a fierce battle cry. Soon the mercenary lay still on the ground and another had come to take his place.



The adventurer dispatched the foe in short order, and the next two that followed, as she worked to keep him healthy. However, with each successive spell that she performed she felt the light inside her grow dimmer and dimmer, until it was barely a flicker. It seemed that this time it was her strength that was failing.



Sweat beaded her brow and she breathed heavily through her mouth. A painful headache had begun behind her temples and she struggled to keep her eyes focused. Gulping in air, she steeled herself for one more spell



A gauntleted hand covered her own. Enough now, the adventurer said gently, and she blinked dazedly at the sunlight that glinted on his helm. Enough. We have won.



She looked, and it was true: no mercenaries remained standing and adventurers all around her raised their voices and arms in victory.



Well done, he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.



I



The sudden absence of tension left her weak and she sagged, no longer fighting the way her vision was graying at the edges.



Whoa there, he said, alarmed, and she felt him catch her body as she pitched forward.



Dear heavens! a womans voice cried. Slim, robed arms gently held her and a cool hand felt her brow and closed eyes. An opened bottled was pressed to her lips. Here child, drink this, the woman said kindly.



Trustingly she gulped down the cool liquid and immediately felt her head clear and the pain recede. She opened her eyes and found herself lying on the dirt, her head on the lap of the woman whod given her the potion. Feeling better? Take care, you had almost exhausted all your mana. The lack of it makes mages feel quite poorly, especially those who are inexperienced in spellcasting.



I yes, thank you, I feel much better, she said, gingerly sitting up. Then she noticed that she was surrounded by adventurers, some crouching and others standing, all looking at her with varying expressions of amusement. She flushed, mortified.



Ho ho! one armored man said, hitting the adventurer she had healed earlier with his fist. It looks like our little ranger has gotten himself a littler cleric!



Shut your mouth, old man. I dont need to take abuse from a weathered old dog like you!



Male laughter filled the air as the two men began pushing each other.



Hah! Better dog than co



Thats enough! The woman who had helped her rose and glared menacingly at the two men. Quit your crude jeering and do something useful. Im sure there are yet many corpses to loot. A chorus of female voices agreed vehemently.



Quickly she stood and brushed her skirts, face flaming. She watched most of those wearing armor, including the ranger, walk away. Oh! she exclaimed, I need to thank him. He saved my family earlier, and myself twice.



I see, the woman said, certainly you should. But first you must be inducted into our ranks. I have already put in the request



Greetings. A man in deep purple robes was suddenly standing where there had been only air a moment ago.



Greetings Sucurro, the woman said, inclining her head slightly. We have a new cleric in our hands.



So I see, Sucurro said. Are you ready?



I she said, mind spinning Is there anything I should do?



Nothing so formal as that, Sucurro replied. Gently he placed two fingers to her forehead. Cleric Siobhan, he said, welcome to Oberin.



*

Before Her Journey - Part 1 of 2 by Minstrel on 01 Feb 2008 : 03:48
Summary: Her earliest memories were of sheep.



Note: The second half will be posted this weekend.



Warnings: Anachronisms



Thank you for reading. Feedback would be very much appreciated.



Her earliest memories were of sheep.



Father was a shepherd and every Harvest Moon, there would always be a shortage of hands to help with the wool gathering. Therefore her earliest memory was of chasing errant sheep and shooing them towards where Father and the other men from the village were holding down the wooly beasts: shearing the fur from their fat bodies then releasing them looking cold and denuded without their usual covering.



It could be said her childhood was of the ordinary sort for a village girl. Her family, while not prosperous, was not lacking in any of the necessities: she grew up with a roof over her head, food in her belly and clothes on her back. There were village girls to play with, three older brothers to torment (and be tormented by), a mother to pinch her side when she became ornery and a father to provide for her. She did not think her life was bad it was just not anything special. And it could be said that she was content, even happy.



The first great upheaval in her ordinary life happened on the year she saw her tenth Waking Moon. Her eldest brother, who she was not particularly fond of (truly!) was accepted into the ranks of the Andris Guards. It was the most excitement that her little village had seen in many yearscompletely eclipsing the time Farmer Roes daughter was caught rolling about in the haystack with the Widow Ergart. (To this day she still could not understand what the big fuss was about. Surely it would have been worse if Relisa were rolling about with the Blacksmith Jaul, who had perhaps half his teeth and none of his hair.)



Father was so proud he strutted around the village for weeks and bought Arrod plate gauntlets. Even Mother dipped into the familys savings to purchase a Pure Orange Crystal: the Lerilin Portal being closest to their village. The night before the family was to leave for the fishing village, the siblings all huddled close to the glowing rock, admiring the beautiful shine.



Once I had slain a harpie, Arrod boasted, waving his hands expansively so that his gauntlets glinted in the candlelight, its feathers were exactly this color.



Her other brothers all nodded in that way boys did when they pretended to know something they did not.



They did not ask her, for surely they would have driven her away if she had so much as opened her mouth, but she thought that the color reminded her of the sunset.



At dawn the next day she and her family set out for Lerilin, where a ship would be taking Arrod and other newly admitted guards to the capital in a days time. The entire town saw them off, even at that early hour, and Arrod was kissed by what seemed like most of the village girls. The lout did not stop grinning for most of the day.



They followed the road, which was thankfully empty of bandits and beasts no more fearsome than the occasional dog or wolf. It was dusk by the time they caught sight of Lerilins walls.



Lerilin, though it was only known as a fishing village, still appeared a world apart from her hometown. The guards peered at them suspiciously from beneath their helms as they passed the village gates and it took all her courage not to hide in her mothers skirts. The town square was bustling even at night and she could not help but stare gape-jawed at the colorfully garbed people who milled around the bank pillars. One of them, a woman so beautiful and wearing robes so rich that she surely must have been some kind of princess, passed them on their way to the inn. Her father and brothers immediately bowed their heads. Her mother curtsied, pinching her arm so that she stumbled in her own awkward curtsey, almost falling flat on her face in the process. Amazingly, the woman stopped and inclined an elegant head graciously at them. The woman even smiled at her before walking away!



The next day, while her family finished breaking their fast in the pub beside the inn, she snuck out to hide behind one of the trees by the town bank to see more of the adventurers. She marveled at them, at their straight backs and fine clothes, the way they held their heads and moved their hands. She imagined what important, dangerous work they must all dowhat grand adventures they must have! What glorious lives they must lead!



A strange constriction stopped her breath; her chest ached and her heart beat loud enough in her ears to drown out the sound of the sea.



For the first time in her life she felt envy.



She had always known what her life would be like: be a diligent daughter to her father and mother, marry one of the village boys, have children of her own, die. It was the way of the village people, the life of a simple peasant girl. She had never thought to aspire for moreto even imagine that there could be more.



Until now.



Now she thought of wearing thick green robes with matching pointed hats, of donning armor and going into battle, of living the life of an adventurer. Surely if her brothers had had read her mind at that moment they would jeer at her mercilessly. A simple girl like her, dreaming of becoming an adventurer! How absurd, how laughable!



But oh, how she wanted it.



The hopelessness of her situation, of knowing even at that age how unattainable her newfound dream was, almost sent her crying to her knees.



Are you lost, little girl?"



Gulping back her tears, she stared stupidly at the gentlewoman who had greeted them the night before.



Have you misplaced your family, perhaps? The woman wondered with a slight tilt of her head.



Embarrassed, and knowing that her face must be as red as an apple, she blurted out: No, maam! They are breakfasting at the pubmy brother, Arrod that is, he will be going to Andris today, to be one of the guards there, uh, maam.



I see. Then what is your business here, child? Skulking around the bank like a thiefor a rogue. The woman raised her voice at that last statement, and raucous laughter burst from a group of people in armor nearby.



I, I wanted to look at you, at all of you



Oh? And what do you think of us?



I think youre all amazing! she exclaimed, wincing at how her voice squeaked at the end.



The woman laughed elegantly. (Until that moment it had never occurred to her that a laugh could even be elegant.) Then which of us do you want to be when you grow up?



She was speechless. This woman, this beautiful adventurer, said it so casually, as though it would be as simple as her wanting to be one of them to become one of them.



A plated warrior or a mage?



I, I



The woman crouched down and looked right at her eyes. Plated warriors are necessary, tis true, and they are strong and can slay even the fearsome dragons. But here I will tell you a secret: the lynchpin of every adventure is the warrior who can restore life, not take it.



Holding out her hand, the woman opened her palm to reveal a little red flower commonly found anywhere. This is ginseng, and if you learn how to use it, I can assure you that you will one day stand even among us.



Gingerly she took the flower in her small hands but before she can say anything more the shrill voice of her mother burst between them and she was yanked forcefully away. While her parents tripped all over themselves to apologize for their rude, ill-mannered daughter, she quickly hid the ginseng inside her skirt pocket.



It would not be until after she had been scolded and pinched, until after they saw Arrod wave goodbye on the deck of the ship, until after they arrived back to their tiny village that she could lie down on her straw pallet and take out the red flower. Turning it in her hands, she could only imagine what the woman meant with her riddles.



The warrior who can restore life? And how can such a little thing as a flower help her attain her dream? Thoughts chased themselves around her head until she grew dizzy and fell asleep.



It would not be until years later, at what would be the second great upheaval of her life, that she would discover the answers to the womans riddles.
A (Late) Oberin Halloween Story by Kale on 01 Nov 2007 : 18:27
A Sequel to "An Amateur Storyteller": http://oberin.com/index.php?name=News&file=article&sid=82



Characters: Adora, Anya Haddad, Caela, Flingee, Kulesi, Sephfarn



Summary: "Ugh, zombies," Kulesi muttered, "I *hate* zombies."



Wordcount: 1900



Note: The events in this story never happened.I smell blood, Caela said.



Kulesi straightened from his slouch on the floor. Youre right. Its close and its not



fresh, Caela finished, frowning. Its old blood. But where oh, gross! Caela jumped up from her seat. Black, congealing blood oozed slowly from the seams of the treasure chest she had been using as a makeshift chair.



Kulesi scampered up beside her, picking at the dark stain on his shoulder where his robe had touched the chest. Ugh, nasty. What the heck is that?



I dont know, but its definitely no ordinary treasure chest, Caela murmured, morbidly curious.



Cleric and wizard stared warily at the bleeding chest. Suddenly the gloom of the crypt felt more oppressive, the stench of old blood and rotting flesh nauseatingly thick on the back of their throats.



It stinks of zombies, Kulesi said, flexing his hand. Little sparks of magic danced between his fingertips. I hate zombies.



You have a Ring of Remove Curse, right? Caela, asked. She looked around them; no beasts or monsters had spawned in the meantime.



Yes, I



BOO!



Kulesi yelped and swung around. Sephfarn materialized in the empty space behind him, laughing. Beside Sephfarn, Caela hid a grin under one hand.



Oh, thanks guys, Kulesi muttered, I only almost had a heart attack.



Sorry, Sephfarn said cheerfully, I couldnt help myself. Happy Halloween!



Oh, thats right, Caela said, it is Halloween.



Yeah yeah, trick or treat, Kulesi said, smacking Sephfarn in the head with his hand.



Speaking of treat, Sephfarn said, ducking around Kulesi to peer at the bleeding chest. I cant believe you guys found it.



By this time the chest was in the middle of a pool of brackish blood that was slowly but steadily spreading.



What is that thing anyway, Caela asked Sephfarn, eyeing the chest in disgust. It was right where you said it was going to be, but neither Kul nor I have ever seen a chest spawn in this corner of the crypt before.



Its a story I heard when I was traveling across Gohoran a few weeks ago, Sephfarn said, stepping to the chest and poking at it, ignoring the blood around his feet and the stench of long-dead corpses that hung heavily in the air. About a special chest that appears only during Halloween, one that promises great excitement to those who find and open it. He grinned at his friends, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Pretty good, huh?



Kulesi rolled his eyes. Wonderful. Great excitement, huh? Somehow I dont think that means a rare treasure. You know, I really didnt plan on dying today.



Caela laughed. Oh, come on Kul, wheres your sense of adventure? This is pretty gross, but it sounds like lots of fun.



Yeah, well, youre a cleric, Kulesi said, grinning at her, everyone knows clerics are a bloodthirsty lot.



Caelas answering retort was cut short by a long, high-pitched moan that emanated from the chest. Sephfarn took a step back and smirked at his friends, looks like whatever is inside wants out. What say you, o noble adventurers?



In answer, Kulesi put one hand out, magic gathering in his palm like a miniature thunderstorm. Caela laughed and the air was filled with the scent of ginseng and coalElevate Mind, Strength and Agility.



Well then, Sephfarn crooned to the chest, lets see what youre hiding.



A moment later there was a soft click as the trap was disarmed, the lock picked. Sephfarn pulled out a poisoned dagger just as an orange magical barrier came over him, but the chest did nothing but sit there, though the moans from inside got louder.



The lid of the chest opened slightly with a disgustingly wet sound. Sephfarn stepped back, gagging as putrid air rushed out from inside the chest, black blood now streaming like a slow, grotesque waterfall from the open chest.



Agh, thats foul, Sephfarn said, covering his nose and falling rank with Caela and Kulesi, both of whom had their hands over the lower halves of their faces.



As they watched, the lid opened all the way and the moans stopped abruptlywhich was somehow all the more alarming. Inky black filled the chest, moving sluggishly until something seemed to coalesce under the surface and a head-sized bump appeared, steadily growing larger and taller.



I think I saw this in a movie once, Caela said, everyone in it died.



Pray tell, what is this moo-vie you speak of, Illustrious Caela? Sephfarn asked facetiously. Caela smacked him upside the head.



Guys, Kulesi said, stopping any further roughhousing, look. The thing covered in blood was now human-height and seemed to be looking right at them.



Bolt it, Sephfarn suggested, and Kulesi obligingly sent lightning streaking across the room.



The lightening bolt did no noticeable damage, even as little sparks of electricity danced over the monster inside the chest.



Oh, Caela said, thats not good.



A series of wet crackssuspiciously like the sound of bones breaking and realigning, came from the monster. Its limbs moved around jerkily, unnaturally, as it stepped out of the treasure chest where it came from.



An otherworldly scream rent the air and the three covered their ears, staring as the monster seemed to laugh, bending over itself in hideous mirth, blood falling away to reveal a rotted face, worm eaten lips and eyeless sockets. It was female, and it looked hungry.



Ugh, zombie, Kulesi muttered, I *hate* zombies.



Beside them, Sephfarn disappeared. Kulesi cast Paralyze at the monster a second before Sephfarn reappeared behind her.



Gotcha, Sephfarn said.



She shook of the paralysis and a bloody hand clamped on Sephfarns arm. Im hungry, she moaned, will you feed me, boy?



Sephfarn yelled in pain as the zombie bit into his shoulder, through his armor. He sank to his knees, drained.



Sephfarn! Caela quickly cast a healing spell and Kulesi shot a Fireball at the monster.



The blast shook her enough to let go and Caela rushed forward and grabbed Sephfarn, yanking him to relative safety.



Sephfarn groaned as Caela cast another healing spell and a Remove Curse as well. That freaking zombie queen has a heck of a bite. Dont get close, he warned the mages.



Yeah, we kind of got that, Caela snarked, even as she checked to make sure the bite wounds had completely closed.



Im starving, children, the zombie queen moaned, swaying closer, please feed me feed *us*.



Ah, crap. Kulesi moved closer to Sephfarn and Caela, and the three watched in dismay as zombies formed around them, dismembered arms and legs and heads rolling in from the dark corners of the crypt and coming together to form a couple dozen undead bodies.



Sephfarn and Kulesi moved in front of Caela, and the three prepared themselves as the horde approached. We need a plan, Caela said, casting protective spells on all of them. Theres no way we can fight all this and win.



We head back out of the crypt, Sephfarn said, cutting off the nearest zombies head with his dagger. You guys return to town and get reinforcements. Ill try and keep them busy.



Right, Kulesi said skeptically, that girl zombie almost killed you with one bite. We all head back to town and get people to help us clean this mess up.



I second, Caela said quickly, forestalling any argument from Sephfarn. Lets none of us die today, all right?



Sephfarn grinned and shook his head. Okay, agreed. Lets get out of here alive.



Feeeed us! The zombie queen screamed shrilly.



Okay, thats our cue, Kulesi said, and the three sprang forward, ducking around grasping limbs and open mouths.



The smell of reagents, blood and burned zombie flesh filled the air as they made their way out of the crypt, some zombies falling as they passed, most not. They turned a corner and saw the ladder leading up and out.



Yes! Caela yelled, ecstatic. The reagent pouch at her hip had grown alarmingly light during their mad dash.



Suddenly zombies blocked the way, an undead wall between them and safety. Where are you going, children? the queen asked, shuffling her way in front of them. Zombies surrounded them at all sides.



Panting, the three closed ranks and glared at the zombie queen and her small army.



Well, Caela said, this sucks.



Sephfarn laughed weakly. I hope you guys arent carrying anything too valuable, he said.



The zombie queen grabbed Caelas arm. Feed me, little girl.



Sorry, Caela said, trying to yank her arm back. Im not on the menu.



Caela! Kulesi yelled in alarm as he fought back two zombies grasping at his legs. Beside him Sephfarn babbled something incomprehensible and tried to make his way to Caela.



Caela struggled, uselessly wrestling the zombie queen.



Do you taste good, little girl? The zombie queen asked, Give me sweeeet guts, little gi



The zombie queen broke off, and she and Caela stared at the arrow embedded on her rotting arm. Suddenly more arrows came flying, finding their mark. She pulled back with a yowl, letting go of Caelas arm.



Startled, Caela turned to the source of the arrows. Flingee!



Anya! Kulesi yelled, grinning as Anya Haddad bolted out of existence the zombie he was battling.



Babble babble babble! Sephfarn exclaimed as Athena, Adoras pet hellhound, snapped its jaws on the zombie in front of him.



You guys okay? Adora asked.



Yes, now that we have backup, Caela said, catching a pouch Anya just threw at her. Ah, thanks! I was running out of lotus flower. She quickly cast a Remove Curse at Sephfarn.



As always, it is my pleasure to come to the rescue of a lovely maiden, Flingee said as he dodged a blow from the zombie queen. His katana flashed silver in the weak light of the crypt.



Caela rolled her eyes, casting healing spells on everyone as they pushed the horde back further into the crypt. She turned to Adora. Flingees courting you, isnt he? He hasnt changed at all, though.



Adora laughed. Nope, hes still the charmer.



Its great that you guys showed up just in time, Kulesi said.



Did you think you were the only ones who knew about this Halloween treasure chest? Anya asked with a smile as she calmly cast Fireball.



Deus ex machina, Sephfarn muttered. Caela shot him a dirty look.



Slowly but surely they thinned out the zombies until all that was left was the queen. So hungry she moaned, pitifully.



Yes, well, better luck next year, Flingee said cheerfully, and in a shower of arrows and Fireballs the zombie queen disintegrated into her component parts.



Oh, gross, Adora said, grimacing at the lumpy black mess that was left behind.



Kulesi poked the mess with a stave. No treasure?



Anya smiled. I guess this is trick instead of treat.



How cheap, Caela grumbled.



The party walked to the ladder and one by one climbed out. Outside it had just turned to full light and they shaded their eyes against the sun. It was another beautiful day in Oberin.



Well, the chest was supposed to give us great excitement, Sephfarn pointed out as they began the trek to town, and besides, isnt fighting alongside your friends worth more than any treasure?



Everyone paused to consider this.



Treasure would have been cool, Kulesi said.



I could use new Robe of Protection, Anya said thoughtfully.



Adora nodded. Me too. A red one.



I will do my best to acquire a red Robe of Protection for you, my heart! Flingee declared.



I want a Medium Protection Ring! Caela said.



Sephfarn shook his head. Mercenaries.





THE END

An Amateur Storyteller by Kale on 31 Oct 2007 : 04:59
A Story-lette inspired by this picture.





Caela yawned, stretching her legs out in front of her. How long do you think well have to watch this for Seph? she asked, casually knocking a foot against the chest she was sitting on.



I dont really know, Kulesi said as he absentmindedly shot a lightning bolt at a snake. He said hell meet us here.



Hmmm, well I hope it wont be for too longI have an potions order to fill, Caela said, rolling a greater healing potion in her hands before putting it down on top of the chest beside her.



Kulesi grinned. Knowing Sephfarn, hes probably already here, stealthing and laughing at us.



Probably, Caela said with a smirk. I do wonder about this chest though, I dont think Ive ever seen one in this part of the crypt before.



Youre right, Kulesi remarked thoughtfully as he magicked a couple of rats into oblivion. Its certainly curious.



Want to try and open it? I promise to resurrect you if you die. Caela grinned, widening her eyes in faux innocence.



Haha, no thanks, answered Kulesi drily.



Aw, youre no fun, teased Caela with a pout. Youve already killed everything in here, theres nothing for me to do.



Kulesi laughed, walking up to Caela and sliding down until he was lying on his side, his shoulders to the chest and his head resting against Caelas knee. I promise to get hurt later.



You say the sweetest things.



For a moment both wizard and cleric are silent.



I do hope theres something worthwhile in this chest, Caela said finally, because if its Sephs dirty laundry or something, I will seriously beat him to death with a stick.



Kulesi laughed, and the two settled in to wait for their friend.