Fantasy The Kingdom of Mice and Men

[XxLuluxX]

"In a place, by the name of Azerae, there had been a darkness rising. Ancient beings from beyond our time- ones whom were hungry, and thirsted to devour this place. They held power that men dreamed of, yet fuelled and fought with nightmares. We called them; Daedions.


The human King- Lazarus, stood up to the falling shadows, he waged a war yet was abandoned by his brothers. The Elves, whispered with self assurance that nothing could touch them in their holy forests. The Dwarves, trusted their mountains, burying themselves deep in stone and the Orcs believed themselves too strong to be felled. Yet the Daed came for them all.


A band of Elven archers and their commander revolted and joined Lazarus; as did a band of Dwarven mages and warriors. The Orcs that were intelligent enough to see the impending destruction joined their ranks. The King formed a council of the races. They were known as the Four Brothers.


The humans fell in vast quantities, their holds crumbled and cities starved. This was the beginning of the end. The remnants of man ran to the main city, the city of Cerce. As the battle reached its climax, there was no stopping in sight. The King, knowing that the only way to bring the battle to heel- was a spell. A forgotten scripture had spoken of a golden light, one that would rip the shadows to shreds alas; at the cost of being frozen within it's heavenly grasp. Forever till the Kingdoms of Orc, Elf and Dwarf found the courage, to bring the Humans back- and help them fight against the Daed anew.


The prophecy remarked that the four brothers- The four races of Azerae, must unite to halt the rebirth of the second coming.


It was lost to time, this story told by seers. Centuries passed, peace reigned and Lazarus slumbered in his city of gold.


You all know this story, one your parents lulled you to sleep by, sung and chanted in these taverns. I have called you here, because Lazarus needs to be woken. I see the signs, the Daed shall wake. You may think me a lunatic, yet can't you see? Humans, have almost gone extinct. Their magics lost to the void. It is us, whether by Daed or not, to bring them back. To return the city of Cerce. Whomever you may be, whatever you may be... Lazarus has slept for too long."


The old man who spoke the words with conviction looked earnest at the group whom filled the tavern after closing time. A time when he could speak free about this mission.

[media]
​

[/media]
Humans, are almost extinct. A war returns from the past. The prophecy rings true, and a man fulfilling his promise takes it upon himself to turn a bunch of misfit characters from every corner of Azerae into warriors whom will awake the old King,





King Lazarus.





Welcome to the Kingdom of Mice and Men.

Rules-

1) Don't be a dick


2) No OP characters


3) No killing another's character without consent


4) Have fun


5) Swearing and violence is allowed.


6) Douchebaggery shalt be punished by treason of the court. Thine head taken from thine shoulders.


That's a thang ^^^^^

​

 

[XxLuluxX]

The Prophecy:

The tavern was closed.


Those whom remained had gotten a particular letter, mysterious and promising. It offered adventure and it offered rewards of both heart and gold. They called the place; The Crooked Crow, alas the sign had degraded to such a point where it merely showed a frightening illustration of a bird mid-scream.


The man whom stood before the group was swathed in midnight blue robes, face craggy and kind from his years spent upon Azerae. Two deep set sapphire orbs sparkled with sincerity of the situation. The room was heavy with magic emanating from the elder, each movement causing the slightest audible crackle, accompanied by a gentle glowing aura that followed his movements. It was ancient and powerful magic, only held by those of status. An archmage perhaps? However he seemed a tad too scruffy, with a long, unkempt beard of snowy hue and little hair remaining upon his head, disguised by a heavy hood.


"You may be wondering why I have managed to gather a representative of each race. It is so the prophecy can be fulfilled, the Four Brothers must unite again. Dwarf, Orc, Elf and Human. I can only offer to you- the adventure of a lifetime. Walk beside king's, accept their rewards and become the next legend to unearth. I ask much of you, I know, all for a story an old man believes. All for a man you've never met. Nevertheless you must believe me for the survival of this world. I have told the Kingdoms, I have spoken to the masses and they shun me for spouting insanity! Yet I see the fear. It's happening again. The Daed will arrive, to no defences, sleepy soldiers and figureheads not worth the thrones and respect they hoard. Lazarus, must be awoken. He knows. The stars tell me that the King of Man, has slept for long enough." The strange mage, ended on a most authoritative and profound note, those piercing eyes now turning upon the group which had been scattered about the empty bowels of the establishment.



​

@Lorkhan @animegirl20 @Alias @loveclub @GoodJobDino

 

[Alias]

It is not uncommon for Frey Leingsen to sleep in his study with books scattered everywhere. He becomes so engrossed with the topic he's researching that he forgets that his body needs sleep until, finally, his body reminds him the hard way. He was awaken by the knocking on the door. "Bitterroot!", he jolted up in surprise. He looked around until he finally realized that he fell asleep again. There was another knock on the door. "Coming!", he opened it and saw Ka'Arr holding a letter. "Oh, thank you", he opened the letter and read it's contents. "'Awaken the King of Man'?", he scratched his chin. "That's a weird choice of words. He probably meant some kind of archeological study on the lost city of man. You know? To awaken and rediscover it's culture and whatnot". Ka'Arr simply shrugged, not interested in his friend's work.


Frey tucked the letter in his bag and put on his scholar's robe and rapier. He never used his rapier during his time in the city, but he brings it around anyway as a good luck charm. "Since the meeting is still in the afternoon, I'm going to the guild to see what I can learn about the city's culture. This field isn't my specialty after all", he then looked up to his friend. "You should come with me this afternoon". Ka'Arr grunted in surprise and pointed to himself to be sure that Frey's talking to him. "Our letter sender wants to meet us in a tavern called Crooked Crow. I can buy you a few cups of Ale if you want". Ka'Arr nodded furiously, his face beamed with excitement. He was about to leave when Frey's stomach growled. "But before all that, we should eat breakfast first. You hungry?"


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


Frey became bewildered as the old man told them what he wants. He actually wants to awaken the King of Man. The more he listened, the more he grew skeptical. The daed have been gone for centuries now. What kind of signs is he talking about? Ka'Arr shook his head and finished his cup of Ale in one gulp. He threw the cup away then took Frey's cup. Frey doesn't drink anyway so he didn't mind. But before drinking, Ka'Arr opened his mouth and stared at the table as if he's looking for the right words to say. "Old man... stupid", he said carefully. "Dead.... stay dead", and with those final words he drank Frey's cup. "Technically speaking, he isn't dead. He's just sleeping... which brings the question, sir!"


Frey raised his hand to catch the old man's attention. "How are we supposed to wake the sleeping king? I mean, no offense to anyone in this room but-", he looked around at the group gathered. With just one look, you can tell they're from different walks of life. "-I don't think anyone here can lift a centuries' old spell that is neither written nor passed down. I think we should consult someone who specializes on the matter".

 

[GoodJobDino]

Holding place at the bar, awaiting an appearance from their host, Hilda recalled recent past events. Her family, grieving over the loss of her brother. She mourned with her steel, when she separated the his killer's head from it's body. While silently reminiscing over good old times together in his room, she came upon a mysterious letter. Not a mark on the outside, within though it read of a tale of glory and heroism. A tale she had heard as a child once or twice but that remained vague in her mind. Her desire to please her father still burned deep, and she longed to have the name Gobstrang said with honor. The next day, her father put a hand on her shoulder and said nothing. But the single tear in his eye said more than words could express. She left, and didn't look back, the memory of her brother guiding her faith and her eyes forward.


It wasn't until a man finally made a grand appearance, that she learned of the true depth and meaning to this adventure she had set upon. Her eyes watched him intently, seeking for signs of deceit and trickery. Though she suspected little chance of it, this would be a lot of trouble to go thru just to lock a bunch of people in a bar. As she was laying her fifth pint down onto the bar, a sixth was brought promptly to her hand. She gave a nod to the keep and placed some gold pieces down before starting a soft, slow stroll around the edge of the room. Sticking to the darkness, watching now the others gathered there. Reactions were varied, she started a guessing game in her head of who may die first. Just then, one of her candidates spoke up.


A finely dressed young boy, raised his hand and asked the question that was probably on everyone's mind, "How?". Hilda's stride came to a stop as she reached a corner to lean in against, awaiting the host's reply eagerly, and amused.

 

[animegirl20]

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_05/tumblr_nljc4oDC0q1qzwtdlo1_r1_500.jpg.d1f15219acc2ec0e82f07f018398d323.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="122653" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_05/tumblr_nljc4oDC0q1qzwtdlo1_r1_500.jpg.d1f15219acc2ec0e82f07f018398d323.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>Neptune listened to what the old man had to say. Though when she first saw him she was a little disappointed. This guy didn't look like he could pay them in gold. But she stayed and listened anyway. Can't judge a book by it's cover. As she listened she grew curious. Sounded interesting to her and it would give her something to do. That plus well the world apparently was in danger. Well she wasn't sure how much she believed that but whatever. After the man was done talking she started wondering what would she get out of this. Cause he hadn't mention that part yet. Suddenly blonde with the glasses started to speak. Apparently he wanted to know how we were suppose to awake a sleeping king. She looked at glasses boy. "Hell we can figure that out later. I just want to know what are we getting out of this." She then turned to the old man. "Are you paying us or what?"


@Alias


@XxLuluxX

 

[XxLuluxX]

The older gentleman, merely smiled at the boy in glasses and the orc, finding the groups questioning gaze somewhat humorous. "Lazarus and the council, were intelligent men, ladies and gentlemen. They were given artifacts, which they filled with pieces of their own souls. The council, were the only ones whom would wake the King- making the oath. Alas, they are all but dead or missing. I cannot wait for them, if they were alive they'd be here now. Yet I must make do with this fine crowd." With a ripple of his cloak, he withdrew four daggers. Each of different design, nevertheless surrounded by astounding auras. "Spells can be lifted m'boy. For I was there when he cast the sky gold and the city became quiet. I am, Reginúlfr Blackthorne. A loyal mage making my way home. I have done what I can, yet I am old. My magic is no longer strong enough to keep me fading to dust and I was one of the few to take up arms beside the king. One of these daggers was gifted to me- as it will be one of you."


Reginúlfr, glanced around with steely eyes. "I waited, for him to wake. For the others needed to lift it. But they never came. Again the Daed shall breach these walls, but Cerce... Cerce shall never fall to those of dark intent." The snowy bearded figure, let his head snap towards the younger girl whom asked of payment. "You can have anything in the Kingdom of Cerce. Lazarus is a generous man, I only wished to have seen him in goodbye. Alas, your names will be recorded in time, your fame shalt be known and those whom look for a comfortable life may pursue this quest. Although be ready to draw your swords against those standing in your path. All this will lead to war, one that Lazarus has fought before. Let us hope, it'll end swiftly." Clearing his throat, he tapped upon the wooden table before him. "I will take you to the first gate, a path used to get to the Kingdom of Man once upon a time. That is as far, as I'll be able to go unfortunately. If you wish to join this adventure- to rediscover Cerce, then I'll tell you more of the city, and what you must do. Those whom think it is below them; are free to leave."

​

@animegirl20 @Alias @GoodJobDino @Lorkhan

Thyra Torhild


The tavern was somewhat dark, her eyes appearing a shaded, oceanic hue than the summer skies which resided in her irises. Thyra sat upon the edge of one table, dress pooling around her dainty figure as the healer listened intently. Of course, her father had told her the stories, the boys of the village liked to reenact the battles in play and Lazarus was a name known to almost every human kin of Azerae. She was intrigued, alas also determined to discover the city of her ancestors. A place where man could be proud of, not pushed to the fringes of society, nor forced to live within the tribal lands. Thyra had somewhat already made a decision before the elder carried on with his tale. Although not allowed to harm with intent, she had no doubt a healer would be needed for all this fighting they were apparently getting into.


Tugging on the bottom of her blonde locks, she nervously fiddled to see if anyone would indeed leave this grand adventure for something else. However the tavern remained still, a few clanks here and there of tankards being put down- or armour gently hitting other components of chainmail. There of course was still time for disengagement, but she doubted it. The old man had spoken with much conviction, sadness and passion that she was rather taken with the idea. A man whom had a place in history, holding onto the last strands of life as to serve his king- Thyra would have to get someone to write a song about it someday.
​

 

[loveclub]

Branson's feet pounded against the dust and gravel. He was late. The tavern closed almost fifteen minutes ago. He grasped onto his sword to make sure he wouldn't lose it. He could see the tavern ahead, lanterns glowing gently through the window. He picked up his pace, pushing forward as hard as he could.


As he arrived at the tavern, he could hear voices coming from inside. He placed his hand on the clod metal of the doorknob. It didn't turn. He jiggled it, hoping he would somehow manage to open it. Getting frustrated, he moved to the window on his left. He peered inside, taking in the group. They were all older than him, and bigger too. It didn't scare him, though. He could take down all of them at once if he wanted to. Sidestepping back over to the door, he used the door-knocker quite generously. The metal pounded against the wood extremely hard.


"Hey, let me in!" he shouted. "It's Branson Keen, let me in!

 

[Abendrot]

In a far, otherwise empty corner of the unusually empty Crooked Crow inn, sat two rather preoccupied looking elves. The older one, Telendil, already out of place, further detached himself from the few remaining patrons of the tavern with his nose tucked away in a book. No one seemed to be paying him much attention except for the occasional awkward glance. His half-blood son, Lenolin, slumped in the chair next to him, tapping his fingers impatiently on the table in front of him. The two were here on the summons of a mysterious letter that promised an expedition with glory, adventure and bountiful treasures. Telendil, having seen enough of all three during his long life, was initially disinterested, but reluctantly agreed to go at Lenolin's behest. Now they sat in an empty human tavern, having to suffer insane levels of boredom as they waited for their host. So much for an "exciting trip".


Several geologic ages later, the old mage finally hobbled into the room, wearing an elaborately embroidered blue robe that complemented his sapphire blue eyes. Telendil closed his book to gaze at him, unable to ignore the immense magical power that emanated from him. Len immediately straightened his posture. The old man had a fringe of grey hair upon his balding, mottled scalp, a wizened face and a back slightly hunched. With each movement there was a creak of old bones. Only when he was certain that all eyes were upon him, the mage spoke, his voice commanding an authority over everyone else. The entire inn fell silent.


Daed? thought Len. That name meant little to him, but his father recoiled in shock at its mention, as if the old mage had just released a pack of poisonous snakes into the room. And what was this talk about waking King Lazarus? Just as the boy in the glasses had said, reversing such a powerful, complicated spell would be nigh impossible to do, even for the most dedicated of mages. Len leaned forward in his seat, unsure if he was supposed to be intrigued or incredulous.


The old man went on for a bit longer, but at the moment he gave his name, Telendil's eyes narrowed doubtingly. If that's Reginúlfr Blackthorne, then how on Earth is he still alive today? he thought. Five hundred years ago, Lord Blackthorne had been a dashing young battlemage, impressively tall, broad-shouldered, and muscled like a bull. He looked nothing like the feeble old man who stood before him. Understandably skeptical about Blackthorne's apparent longevity, Telendil rose to confront him.


"How do we know you truly are the fabled Reginúlfr Blackthorne? The last time I'd heard from you was five hundred years ago, when you were leading the van at the Battle of Penrith."


@XxLuluxX

 

[animegirl20]

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_05/upload_2016-5-4_21-46-29.png.40bfb15c13cf8e58597ae25502d8f1c9.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="122807" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_05/upload_2016-5-4_21-46-29.png.40bfb15c13cf8e58597ae25502d8f1c9.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>Neptune listened as the man went on on. She honestly didn't care about all of that. Finally he turned to her answering her question and she was very pleased with his answer. A smile grew on her face. "Well you can count me in. Suddenly she heard someone knocking on the door. She stood up and noticed a young man who looked around her age. "Oh." She jumped up and walk to the door and opened it. "Hey kind of late aren't ya." She said grinning. "He's already told us pretty much everything we need to know. Want me to catch you up?"


@loveclub

 

[loveclub]

The girl who opened the door startled him. He hadn't noticed her before. She was small, maybe even younger than him. Pretty, but he never paid much attention to things like that. He licked his lower lip and peered over her shoulder, looking at the group. He kept a hand on the handle of his sword, just in case. "Sure," he said, taking a step forward. He pushed past the girl, hardly taking her existence into consideration. He was too aware of his surroundings. He didn't know these people, and he didn't know what they wanted. This could all be a rouse. And he intended to find out.

 

[GoodJobDino]

Hilda watched in amusement at the scene before her. She was somewhat enthralled by the tale, but giggling to herself at the reactions of some of the others within. That is until, the host Blackthorne, revealed the knives of legend. She was sturdy standing about going on this adventure regardless, but now... she spoke up, joining some other voices of the crowd.


Stepping out of the corner and into the light, "I am Hilda,representing the Dwarven clan Gobstrang. Twas Lon, my brother who received the letter. But he has fallen, so I took his place. I have 6 brothers, a mother and father at home. And even without them at my back, I would be here at your side. You can depend on my arrows to fly true, and my sword to strike fear. I will face these dead, and I will restore the king. No matter what it takes."

 

[XxLuluxX]

Blackthorne, now turned his gaze upon the elf whom spoke up. Something about the face was familiar, alas time had degraded much of the memories he once kept close. "I am not the man I used to be. I know, I find it almost shocking myself. Yet as I remember, it was Penrith where I lost my two sons. It was Penrith, I managed to keep the Daed back for long enough as to evacuate all to the city. It was that battle, I lost my leg." Reginúlfr, as to literate, lifted the hem of his robe to reveal a wooden replacement instead of flesh. "I understand you may be suspicious, a man such as myself claiming a name that... No longer fits my features. Woe to man, and our mortality. Eh?" He chuckled, but there was as always the same youthful appearance to his eyes that could never leave. "I hope you're satisfied, as to who I am. However, I won't be among the living much longer. The halls of Valhalla call me, soon I shall rest beside friends. As charming as I was in the beginning."


The elder, smiling in a reminiscent manner began to return to the crowd. Especially the dwarven female whom spoke up among them. "Then, Hilda Gobstrang. You are the stone warrior, a woman of the earth. You, are the representative of Dwarves. And so I offer you, the blade of Thutdratir Ambershield. A man I knew well, whom forged this knife using a dragon's tongue as to imbue the fire of your people. I trust you to keep it safe m'lady." The wizened male, held out the intricate designed shortsword. Almost luminescent in the fires flickering. It was of golden handle and fine craftsmanship, only accomplished by the most skilled dwarven blacksmiths. A jewelled hilt, that sang quietly in tones of the dead. A low hum of a man.



​

@Lorkhan @GoodJobDino

 

[animegirl20]

She looked at him curiously noticing the way he was acting. Neptune smirked "Bet he's fun to mess with." She said to herself. "So your the type that always has his wits about right? That's good you know because." She got behind him whispering. "You never know who might be after you. Can't judge by looks you know. Everyone here could be a enemy." Neptune gave amusing smile wondering if he would get more paranoid. Honeslty if anyone was here that couldn't be trusted was probably her considering she would steal from you with out a moments notice.


@loveclub

 

[loveclub]

Branson stared at the blonde girl, keeping a straight face but tightening his grip on his sword. He didn't say anything, only turned towards the girl. Stepping forward, he got inches from her face. He gritted his teeth, staring into her eyes. The tension between the two was already high, and he wasn't sure how working with her would go.


"Do not joke about things like that," he said. "I will end you. Don't think I won't."


He could feel his blood boiling. Not even five minutes in, and he had already made an enemy. Not that it was a surprise...

 

[Alias]

Ka'Arr choked on his drink as the dwarf lady stepped out of the shadows. He didn't notice she was standing there the whole time. But Frey was too absorbed with the old man's story that he stopped caring about his surroundings. But he is most fascinated with the daggers the man has. The men in Cerce perfected Soul Transfer, Frey thought. Soul Transfer is an ancient method where a person's soul or pieces of a person's soul, regardless of gender and race, can be transferred to another body or another inanimate object. Most scholars in his guild have tried to study and replicate how it's done but have failed in doing so.


But learning that men have perfected this process even without the current modern technology left Frey in awe. He began wondering what more could they know that we, as of now, do not. "I am Frey Leingsen. I am just a scholar, but if what you say is true, then I can not just sit idly and watch the rest of Azerae go to hell. I'll provide assistance". Ka'Arr burped and said, "Ka'Arr... follows... Frey".

 

[animegirl20]

She leaned back a little as he stepped to her getting in her face. The tension suddenly felt high as he looked straight into her eyes. Though she smirked after he spoke. And then said in a innocent mocking voice. "Oh my I'll have to watch myself around you won't I?....please" Her innocent voice dropped and her face went serious. "I'll like to see you try." She then suddenly smiled brightly at him. "Anyway the name's Neptune. Also if you don't want to get to far behind you might want to go try to catch up with the conversation they are having over there."


@loveclub

 

[Abendrot]

Although the old mage remained closemouthed on the subject of his exceedingly long life (by human standards), the legendary daggers and missing leg were proof enough that this was the real Reginúlfr Blakthorne. Telendil, ever the courteous elf, stepped forth and bowed deeply for the mage, eyes to the floor. Lenolin hastily emulated his father, shifting awkwardly until he got his form right. Down on the right knee, eyes pointing down, right hand across his chest.


"Lord Blackthorne." Telendil began, addressing him with a noble's title more out of habit than purpose. "Six hundred years ago, I swore an oath to shield Azerae from the forces of darkness. I am not yet released from that oath. I am Telendil of Clan Fallandor."


"I am his apprentice, Lenolin of Clan Fallandor."


"And by the Light of the Sun and Moon, we are yours to command." they recited in unison.


@XxLuluxX

 

[GoodJobDino]

Hilda had to catch her jaw from nearly dropping. And it seemed like an eternity before she reminded herself to move. Gently she stepped forward towards Blackthorne, sticking out a careful hand as she grew close. Even with his claims of age and loss of power, he commanded great respect and awe from the dwarf.


Her eyes fell to the knife as she pulled it gingerly from his hand. She gave a small bow of the head, "you do my family a great honor, I will not fail you m'lord." She kept contact with him for a couple steps back, before turning and making her way to an empty spot at the bar. She never let the knife from her grip.

 

[XxLuluxX]

Blackthorne, swept his robes up in a tempest to face the scholar, this time another sword was held out. Larger in size, yet as intricate in detail as all others. Its blade engraved with the fights of Knights and Kings, decorated by copper upon its hilt and embedded by smaller red stones. Another set deep in the handle. "My honest man, of book and word. A pen is no longer your weapon, but may you keep your wits about you. Here I hand you, my own blade. Forged in steel and christened by knowledge. The blade of Man." Once again he leaned down, bestowing the weapon upon another of the unsuspecting crowd. "Look after it well." This one- alas, was not haunted by whispers. For the old mage, still lived. However the handle began a cold sensation up the arm, sword bonding to user. As the soul transfer was created to do. The pieces of those council members, gave each user their own experience. Sometimes memories, of those they loved, lost and hated.


Closing his eyes a moment, Reginúlfr let his lips curl. "Telendil. We met briefly, I believe. I know you to be a capable warrior. As I'm sure your accomplice is, or should I say son?" Slowly the elder retrieved another sword. One left upon the table. "Fallandor, I bestow you the Elven Blade. Forged in night and kissed by day. Once the blade of Saelethil Heidithas. Now yours. Complete my mission, fulfill your oath. For you are a man of the forests, lighter than air." This blade, was of strange metal. It's colour light blue, although playing in the fires flicker to become midnight at will. Its jewel of sapphire. Its humming the murmurs of elven poems and merriment. The decrepit battlemage, turned toward Lenolin. "Look after him. You have the eyes of a warrior, don't lose your heart because of it."


At last, he faced the scholars Orcish friend, his hand extending a jagged sword. Larger than all others. The weapon was decorated in primal symbols, dedicated to heathen gods. Rough cut and ready for ripping. Its jewel a uneven, yet undoubtedly beautiful amber. Its murmurings of festivity and war cries. "The sword of strength and simplicity. A knowledge lost to intelligence. For a man of little learning, be the downfall of us all. The blade of Orc, once the blade of Garothmuk, Son of Zalthu. Use it well."


Blackthorne stood aback from them all, staring upon the crowd. "Here I gift you the ability to wake the King. When you find him, bend your knee and pledge the names of those whom souls reside within. Only then, shall you wake him. I leave you, with the knowledge- the first gate lies north. Guarded by two stone men. You will need every last one of you, to fight through its entrance. For the city of Man, has long since been sleeping. Its barriers guarded by the beasts of legend. Find the dragon, son of Beowulf. Know his game of riddles ends in death, whether one wins or loses. Know you must kill him." With that he fell silent. The city bell tolling.


"My time is up"


The battlemage looked around, pointing at the thief, and swordsman. "Let anger not corrode this journey, let greed not be your goal. See the light my friends." In a sweep he faced the healer; Thyra. "Stay true to your values, but know breaking them is an option the gods will forgive." His messages became hurried. "You must find the king, before it is too late. I will guide you in spirit. As I promised; I shall accompany you to the place of my beginnings." Blackthorne's form had begun to shimmer in pure energy. His hand becoming dust, and whipping away to nothing. Figure becoming a whirlwind in the folds of a storm that rattled the windows and sanded the floors.


Lazarus, must be woken.

He was gone, by the time anyone had uncovered their gaze. All that was left of the mage, was his ring. Holding the insignia of his coat of arms. The magic which held him to this plain, had been undone. The hourglass had emptied.



​

@Lorkhan @GoodJobDino @animegirl20 @Alias @loveclub

 

[Abendrot]

Carefully, Telendil took the sword in hand and closely examined the hilt. The gem in the pommel was sapphire, carefully weighted to balance the long blade. The grip was fine leather, soft and black, yet unstained by sweat or blood. With even greater care, Telendil pulled the sword from its scabbard, staring in admiration at the mithril blade's blue glow. "Once the blade of Saelethil Heidithas. Now yours." told Lord Blackthorne. That came as a great shock to both Telendil and his son. Every elf in Azerae knew the name Saelethil Heidithas. He was the first Phoenix King, the one who legends say tricked the Gods into bringing the gift of immortality to Elvenkind. "If this blade belonged to Heidithas . . . then this must be—"


"—Mórilanta" finished Len, with sheer awe in his voice. The name of the First King's blade was the Elvish word for "nightfall". Telendil examined the blade closely, tracing a finger along the flowing script engraved inside the fuller and read it aloud.


"Nanyë i macil i móressë. Essenya Mórilanta ná"


"I am the sword in the darkness. Morilanta is my name." Lenolin translated. Telendil pulled his hand away from the blade with a jolt of excitement. "It is. By the Sun and Moon, it's true! Lord Blackthorne, I—"


But Blackthorne was gone when he looked up, vanished into the air in a cloud of ash. All that remained in the place where he stood was his House's signet ring, solid gold yet worn with age. When Telendil realized what had just happened, he felt a feeling of sadness creep over him. Blackthorne had been a gallant man in life, from the days of the war to today. How lamentable the mortality of Men is!


"The first gate lies north, guarded by two stone men." said Len, repeating the old man's last words. A long moment of silence passed over the inn. Finally, Lenolin turned around to address everyone else. "Lord Blackthorne has made our task known. So what say you all? Will we be leaving together tomorrow morning?"


@XxLuluxX @GoodJobDino @animegirl20 @Alias @loveclub

 

[Missykay]

Sitting in the darkest corner of the room. Alone, in the shadows, with her dark purple cloak hiding her face. She never moved, nor spoke. Just watched. Listened. Syferowyn, The rogue Princess, grew up hearing stories of Lazarus. Could it really be the days of the resurrection? It was almost unbelievable and yet. A stirring within her soul told her it was truth. She recognized the great Lenolin by a picture she had seen of him in the great Hall of Demih. He was a good and gifted warrior. Which must mean the man with him is his son? The rest were strangers to her eyes. Being a young Elf of 172, she only knew of the blade Lenolil now possessed through her studies and tales of old. It had been so long since her feet touched the sweet soil of Ashimi. She would send word to her brother Ani, the king there, that the days of resurrection were upon us. She would go with them. It was in her blood. "I will go" she stated beneath her cloak in the darkness that provided her seclusion.<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_05/57a8c9b2bf8d2_images(16).jpg.44da663f7b1dc0f04397d41b728cf273.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="123715" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_05/57a8c9b2bf8d2_images(16).jpg.44da663f7b1dc0f04397d41b728cf273.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

 

[GoodJobDino]

Hilda half listened as the wizard went on with his tale. She was enchanted still, by the blade. Not only of its origin, she knew many stories of Thutdratir, but for the future it may bring for her, her family, and every being of this world. She grasped it tightly, checking the weight, and balance. "It's true what the wizard says," she thought, "I can feel the forges fire even still on my hand". She thought of Thutdratir making this blade, Imbuing himself into it. Every crack and spark of the steel, slinging small embers into his face. She imagined the careful craftsmanship. Every detail, everything in its perfect place.


Her attention was drawn back, as he concluded, and bid his farewell. And then nothing, not even his words hung in the air anymore. That was the end of the man, his story ended here, clinging to hope. One, then another, stepped forward to meet his request. She knew she would not turn and run. Hilda took one last look at the blade, pushing her resolve even further, and then raised it mightily into the air, stepping forward yet again, "at first light, I will stand with you."

 

[Alias]

A cold sensation ran up to Frey's arm as he gripped the blade's handle. Then, he felt his mind race and fell silent as he watched the memories of a child unfold within his mind. He watched this child's growth into adulthood, his pains, his strengths, his loses, and his triumphs. When he came to, he realized whose memories were those. "They were yours...", he said absentmindedly. A part of him felt amazed by what transpired, but a part of him felt like he was peeking into someone's life without permission.


Ka'Arr examined the blade he's holding with a grin. "Shiny...", he giggled as he watched the glistening of the blade while listening to the murmuring emanating from the blade. To others it may sound like incoherent grunts and yodeling but to the orc, it's the best lullaby he's ever heard. For the first time, at least temporarily, Ka'Arr felt at home.


Telling everyone the quest at hand, the old mage vanished into ashes. The reality that they might be Azarae's last hope began sinking in. When the elven warrior began repeating the mage's words, a thought came across his mind. "Maybe we can persuade them to let us pass...", he accidentally thought out loud.


@Lorkhan

 

[Missykay]

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_05/57a8ca51c20fb_images(16).jpg.7c68be09e3113d12954a460410d25f11.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="129594" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_05/57a8ca51c20fb_images(16).jpg.7c68be09e3113d12954a460410d25f11.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p> Syferowyn had enough waiting for others to stand and follow. She would go, with or without help. She rose quietly and walked out of the stuffy bar. The air was crisp and cold. She would not wait till morning. The shadows are her friend.


She decided to travel through the forest of woes by night. While many of the great beasts slept. She was agile and Swift being an elf her step was quick and silent. She felt as one with the forest within her foliage and trees. She knew this forest but, had never traveled as far as the stone men.


It was exciting as well as intimidating. Her cloak swirled around her as she looked up at the night sky. Her breath came in slow even clouds in front of her face. The North star was her guide to the house of men. Her swords upon her back glistened slightly in the moon light. Even if no one else came, suicide mission or not she must be victorious! For Blackthorne, for Ani, for Azarea, For The Kingdom! @EVERYONE