SUMMER

Angkar: Wet season. Precipitation is common during the late afternoon and evening hours. Vegetation grows significantly during the summer, but flooding is a danger due to the monsoons that ravage the country. The rainforest sees evenly distributed rainfall throughout the season.

Ashoka: Desert: Extremely hot and dry. Violent, heavy downpours following long dryspells. Jungle: Hot and humid with frequent, violent rainstorms.

Morrim: Relatively hot and dry, but with a chance of thunderstorms from time to time. The heat may cause forest fires.

Soto: Hot and humid, tree cover is dense while ground growth is restricted. Thunderstorms see the most amount of rainfall during the season, and it can be very windy. On occasion, there are flash floods that can destroy homes and farms built on flood plains.

ANNOUNCEMENTS

March 30th, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has changed hands and is now under new management! If you have any questions, please direct them to DaringRaven! As for the rest of the announcements, including a season change, you can find them over here at the following link!

January 16, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has a new skin, all thanks to Mel! Don't forget to check out the new OTMs as well!

December 2, 2017 Winter has settled on Elenlond, bringing sleep for some and new life for others.

September 26, 2017 With the belated arrival of autumn come some interesting developments: new OTMs, a Town Crier and the release of the Elly Awards winners!

July 14, 2017 After a bit of forum clean-up, Elly Awards season has arrived! Head on over to make your nominations!

May 31, 2017 Summer has arrived and so has activity check! That's not all though – we also have some new OTMs for you and some staff changes!


WHAT IS ELENLOND?

Elenlond is an original free-form medieval fantasy RPG set on the continent of Soare and the Scattered Isles, which are located to the south in the Sea of Diverging Waters. The four chief nations of the western side of the world—Ashoka in northern Soare, Soto in western Soare, Morrim in eastern Soare, and Angkar, the largest of the Scattered Isles—continue to experience growth and prosperity since the fall of the Mianorite gods, although power struggles within the countries—or outside of them—continue to ensue.


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    Angkar: To honour the reinvigoration of the ancient city of Mondrágon, the majestic Queen Eulalia has permitted the opening of a Coliseum where people from around the world and all walks of life can test their combat skills against one another. Many have already done battle in search of honour, glory, prizes and money.

    Ashoka: In an otherwise peaceful times, Ashokans are beset with the relatively minor inconveniences of wandering undead and occasionally-aggressive giant rock worms. There has also been some controversy over the recent re-legalisation of human sacrifice.

    Morrim: Rumour has it that Emperor Leofric de Hollemark is mustering forces for a war. Though the threat from Soto’s forests has passed, the forces previously employed in watching the forest now linger at the border. Rumours also circulate of a small group that has been dispatched to make contact with the tribes of the Do’suul Mountains.

    Soto: The Sotoans have defeated the fey and liberated themselves from Méadaigh’s oppression! Preliminary efforts have been made at rebuilding the city of Madrid, which had been captured at the beginning of the war. However, the Sotoans are hindered from recovery famine. Méadaigh’s magic caused summer to persist in the Erth’netora Forest through the winter. Her power has been withdrawn and the plants die as if preparing for winter – even though it is now summer. The Sotoans must sustain off what food they can get, what creatures they can kill and what can be imported into the city from Morrim and Angkar.

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    Enter Our World

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    The Wisdom Of Solomon.; Crow, Jamona, Xavier, Angkarin
    Topic Started: Aug 24 2016, 04:19 PM (263 Views)
    MoanaKeahi


    The town of Hillsburg was not a terribly wealthy or noteable town, but they were a town of great dreams of significance and pride. Mostly they took pride in being better than Daleburg, their nearest neighboring town. Hillsburg’s greatest claim to fame was that the Treasury had saved up enough money to afford a third suit of armor and sturdy weapons, bringing the town’s number of knights to the grand total of three! The day the armor had arrived The Mayor, Arnfried Ludwig Kaufmann had organized a parade. Sir Gunter Gotthilf Wendel had been the proud recipient of the armor and lead the parade followed by Sirs Albrect and Wiegand. That parade a year ago had been the last time that armor had been seen outside of where it was proudly displayed within Sir Wendel’s home. That was until today.

    Today the armor was not being worn proudly atop a similarly protected horse, but instead by the most recent squire of Sir Wendel, a boy by the name of Dieter Baumgartner. Dieter barely fit in the too-large armor and one could almost hear his knees clanging together as he reluctantly trudged down the main road of town, like a prisoner heading for sentencing. The people that watched him make his way were a much smaller crowd than at the parade, and the occasional shout from among them were less cheers and more vaguely encouraging words that lacked believability. Dieter was the town’s last local hope, and they had no faith at all in his success.

    Among those that doubted Dieter’s ability to succeed in his current mission was Dieter himself. After all he had chosen not to ride the horse towards the conflict, for fear that something would happen to it. He would be in enough trouble for wearing Sir Wendel’s armor as it was. Dieter had been able to rationalize that Sir Wendel would forgive him for borrowing the armor on account of his quest being to rescue Sir Wendel, the other knights, the mayor, the town council, and a handful of farmers.

    The ever-growing numbers of prisoners were all being held in the Mayor’s cellar by a terrible monster that had insisted it was in charge of the town now. How exactly this had come about had been a matter of some great confusion that Dieter himself had still not been able to sort out. What was important was that he was the only loosely qualified person left in town to face the monster and had been elected by the recently formed committee to banish the newly labeled Monster Of Hillsburg. The squires of the other knights had wound up in the cellar as well when the town had heard the Mayor promise the hand of his daughter to whoever banished the beast. While Greta was plain in every conceivable way, the dowry and status granted as her husband was motivation enough for the other two squires; but Dieter had been content to stay behind.

    As the Mayor’s two story house came into view, the rattling of Dieter’s armor became more apparent to anyone listening so much so that it preceded his arrival. A booming voice shouted in unison from within the large hole that had been recently installed in the Mayor’s home.

    ”BLUE ONE!”
    one angry thunderous voice called,

    “WHAT?” a similarly loud voice answered.

    ”Not you! Other blue!”
    the angry voice sounded angrier in reguards to the confusion.

    “Why you want her?” the second voice dared to question the first.

    ”Want see what make clinky noise.”

    “Sounds like more metal man.”

    ”What they want?”

    “Maybe come to guard prisoner? Maybe bring food?”

    ”FOOD!”
    The exuberance with which the first and louder of the two voices said this word caused Dieter’s stomach to flip and his knees began to rattle even louder. His stomach flipped once more and his whole body trembled when the great horned head with the single cyclopean eye set in the middle of a giant red face protruded from the opening in formerly pristine wall of the mayor’s manor.

    The great red head was quickly followed by a blue one with a single horn and two scrutinizing eyes. Their shared pare of red shoulders emerged from the opening as their four arms braced themselves on the sides of the opening and shoved, giving their large heavy towering body the momentum it needed to rise up to their full height and step out of the large hole in the mayor’s home.

    ”I SEE NO FOOD!”
    The red face bellowed grouchily. One of the creature’s four hands rubbed the single eye like one might rub their eyes after a long nap.

    “What you want metal man? You need chief’s help?” The blue head asked as it tilted curiously.

    Realizing he had finally been addressed directly Dieter opened his mouth to say something and no sound came out. Trembling and shaking with fear so much the rattling of the ill fitting armor had only intensified in strength, he looked for courage by drawing his sword which wavered wildly in his shaking hands. The beast stood well taller than two men high and despite its flabbier gut, the four powerful arms and legs seemed frighteningly well muscled. The sword seemed to give Dieter enough courage to try speaking again, which was good because the monster’s red face seemed to be growing angrier by the second.

    “I am D-D-Dieter B-B-Braumg-g-g-g-gart-t-t-tner!” his voice cracked and squeaked at the pinnacle of his introduction. “I-I-I’m here to de-de-defeat y-y-you and f-f-free the t-“ WHAM!

    - - -

    Moana let the sturdy beam fall out of her hand after it collided in an underhand swing, with the small clanking metal man. She’d heard enough of what he had to say to know what to do, and now watched as he sailed through the air heading beyond the edge of town. “NEXT TIME BRING FOOD!” She shouted after the disappearing figure before snorting with self-amusement. With a similarly entertained chuckle she commented “Him fly good.”

    Keahi gave a heavy and resigned sigh. “Him not hear you now. Too far.” He didn’t see the point in trying to explain to his sister-half that her diplomatic policy needed work. After all they were still in negotiations about what their policy on handling and sentencing criminals should be, which was why they were all currently being held in the empty space below the dwelling they had taken for their own, as new self-appointed chiefs of the town.

    ”Oh.” Moana realized her mistake but rather than dwell on it sought to resolve the growing in their collective stomach by other means. “BLUE ONE! WE WANT FOOD!” She suddenly hollered at the top of her lungs, causing her brother to slap his hands over both his ears to spare them from the terror of her raised voice. Ignoring him, Moana’s single cyclopean eye looked around for the red haired blue person that had been the only reasonable villager to listen to the newly appointed chiefs.

    - - -

    Somewhere outside of town Dieter sailed through the air and wondered what the afterlife would be like, and if he could still be considred a noble hero for at least trying to save the town. Fortunately with a sudden squishy thud that was less jarring than he had been anticipating, he came to a stop, and realized his questions about the hereafter would have to remain questions for now. Slowly prying open his eyes, he noticed first, that he was surrounded by hay. Dieter silently muttered his eternal gratitude to haystacks the world over, before noticing the second thing. A few unfamiliar faces standing on the road were all staring at him with some manner of surprise and bewilderment on their faces.

    After a brief struggle against hay and gravity, Dieter managed to right himself and made his best attempt to look presentable. “Ahem” he cleared his throat in the most professional manner he could and addressed the strangers. “I don’t suppose you are adventurers, here about our monster problem? I am uh… Sir Dieter, the uh… the brave. The monster is still in town, but I believe I have helped soften it for you. I uhhh hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty, being a fellow noble and all.” Nailed it! Nice cover Dieter. They’ll never know.
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    Food. That sounded easy enough.

    A slender, primary colored elf made her way out of the mayor's front door, ignoring and seemingly not even sensing any additional noises directed at her and escaping from the monster's collective mouths.

    It was different being a government official, but not in a bad way. She had yet to learn about the full extent of her tasks, and she was excited to fulfill them all; but for now, her assignment was not too dissimilar from what her job had been before she had to leave her old master.

    With determination, Jamona's steps led her towards where the strangers were standing, for she had to pass them if she sought to hunt in the forest. Dieter's speech and the strangers' stance leaving her hardly impacted, she proceeded at a steady pace, openly carrying a tool that - from a distance - might be mistaken for a weapon. However, her weak appearance and limited height combined with a striking lack of serious battle armor seemed to suggest that she might not actually be the monster that Dieter was talking about.
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    One of the strangers Dieter greeted, Angkarin was a simple hedgemage needing some gold. The citizens of this town had put out a call for assistance, with some of the messengers going as far as Angkar. The messengers told of a great brute come to takeover the town. Having worked for passage on a ship to Morrim, Angkarin had met up with this strange group of adventurers and traveled to this out of the way village. This so called knight didn't appear to be much of a knight. He seemed more out of place than a camel in the middle of a lunch jungle.
    "Hello uh, Sir Dieter. I hail from Angkar, and I am no noble. Just a lowly hedgemage. But we have come to assist with your.... problem I guess. You may call me Angkarin. I have some knowledge healing, I don't suppose you would need any assistance yourself, that was quite a fall."
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    Phaedrus
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    Thus conscience does make cowards of us all/ And thus the native hue of resolution/ Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought.

    (sorry it got so long! had fun with this one. xD by the way angkarin, i made a couple of assumptions about angkarin's personality -- hope it's ok!)

    Devils, but the roads were ever long and tedious. He was always grateful for new company upon them.

    After all, there were only so many times one could sing The Busty Maid From Angkar or The Dragon's Taint before one went completely mad. And when Bast skittered off on her own adventures, talking to Caulcis was like pulling all the teeth from his head and putting them back again. So -- when he'd heard of a call for willing volunteers to fight some small-town monster, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to get involved in. A bit of coin, an easy distraction -- devils knew he needed distractions these days -- and perhaps some interesting new company.

    Those were his hopes. And as always, they were summarily dashed.

    As it happened, the wandering, barbarous sorts who killed monsters for a living weren't usually talkative company. In the musty inn where he'd been recruited, the necromancer chittered at men with scarred faces and missing fingers and had gotten little more than grunts or insults in return. He wasn't the only object of scorn, though. In fact, most of them just rolled their eyes at the messenger's piping, frantic insistence that a giant ogre had invaded Hillsburg.

    "Hillsburg?" One of them had grunted. He'd shrugged a massive shoulder, returning to his ale. "Ne'er heard of it."

    "B-but--- but you see--" the blonde-haired boy stuttered. "I-it's invaded, s-ser, i-it's -- captured the mayor, and all the k-knights, and--"

    "Pah," another man rolled the only eye he had left, cleaning his filthy fingernails with a dagger.

    "P-please!" The boy squeaked. "It's going to eat them!"

    "Whass the reward?" A weaselly fellow sneered at the messenger. He scratched his greasy hair. "A few cabbages an' the whole town's store o' pennies? Piss off."

    The messenger swallowed indignantly, holding himself ramrod. He seemed to find new bravery within himself, lifting his chin.

    "The reward--" he cleared his throat, taking a deep breath, "--is the hand of the Mayor's fairest daughter, Greta, and the dowry, lands and prestige that a union offers."

    The rogues fell quiet for a moment, passing a considering look between each other. Phaedrus watched with crossed arms and a raised brow. Easy enough to guess the machinations in their hideous skulls. They'd probably decapitate her the moment they got the money and lands they wanted.

    "Interesting." The necromancer broke the silence, leaning back in his chair. His muddy boots were propped up on the table, and he lounged with foppish indifference. "Well. I shall go, if no one else cares to volunteer." He grunted, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward into a sitting position once more. The crestfallen look on the messenger's face didn't elude him. "I'm not interested in the girl, though."

    "'Course you ain't, yeh fuckin' fairy," the one-eyed man spat, to ugly, brutish laughter from the others.

    Alright. He'd had enough. Phaedrus narrowed his eyes, fist bunched on the table. He glared at the cyclopian idiot, to the renewed gale of laughter from the others, and in the dim light of the tavern his eyes seemed to glow. A smile twitched across his dead-white face.

    Ser Cyclops paused-mid laugh. Suddenly his eye became wide as a dinner-plate, mouth contorting. Then he shot out of his chair, loosing a horrible scream and batting at his ass. The smile continued to stretch on Phaedrus' face.

    "Feck!" The rogue screamed. "Feck! Feck! Feck!" The other patrons in the tavern turned around to stare as the large man clawed desperately at his behind, hopping around in pain. "Me ass! ME ASS!" A large splotch of wetness bloomed in his nether-areas, seeping down one leg.

    "Wha' the hell'd you do to him?!" One of the rogues barked and slammed his fist on the table, causing the silverware to jump.

    Phaedrus put his arms behind his head, looking exceptionally satisfied with himself. He pursed his lips, brows darting up to his hair.

    "I froze his arsehole shut." Always wanted to try that one. His bow-lips curled into a nasty smile.

    The two rogues exchanged a Look. Then one of them ripped the sword out of his belt, roaring as he plunged forward.

    His face smashed against an invisible wall and he crumpled onto the table, nose crushed and bleeding. Phaedrus lowered his hand, looking distinctly unimpressed. He arched a manicured brow at the remaining rogue, who lowered his blade, mouth gaping open stupidly. Then he scrambled away from the table, bolting for the door.

    Phaedrus made a lazy come hither motion with his hand. The man loosed a blood-curdling scream as a circle of black arms burst out of the ground around him, writhing wildly. The temperature plunged. Several patrons had launched from their chairs, screaming as well. The necromancer gave his fingers a little wag, and the Dead Hands seized the rogue's belt, plunging downward.

    The man's pants and skivvies fell to his ankles, exposing his danglies and hairy arse for all to see. The rogue kept giving short, hoarse screams, trying fruitlessly to swipe at the Dead Hands with his sword. He tripped over his rumpled pants and fell over backwards, still screaming.

    Phaedrus stifled a giggle with a delicate hand, directing his attention to the messenger. The boy looked like he'd been frozen to the ground, his mouth gaping open. His eyes darted towards him in his petrified face, and he looked like he might be sick.

    Careful not to startle the boy into shitting himself, Phaedrus slowly got up, dusting his hands.

    "Well then," he sniffed, looking at the messenger. "Lead the way. Oh, and get me some meat pies--I'm sure it's a long walk. I'll wait outside." The necromancer shoved a few coins into the boy's rictus-stiff hands, patting his shoulder. Phaedrus sauntered across the wreckage of the inn, past the man trembling in his own piss-puddle and the half-naked idiot writhing and screaming in a basket of undead arms.

    "Tch," he muttered under his breath. "Fairy." As if he was some loathsome fae. The necromancer pushed the door open into the dazzling light outside, rolling his eyes.

    ***

    "I-i-it's-- it'ssss not long now, I swear."

    The messenger kept insisting this every half-hour or so, as if he feared he'd eat him.

    Phaedrus raised his brow as he chewed on another meat-pasty, rather averse to the idea. These were quite good, after all. When he said get me some meat pies, he'd meant about three or four -- not a sackful of what seemed to be the entire larder of the inn. In their eagerness to dispel him and his daemonic powers from the foyer, possibly the whole town of Dalesburg, the owner shoved a sack full of food at the messenger and recited the prayers of Vespasian.

    There was nothing quite like abject terror to inspire generosity.

    Poking the rest of the crust into his mouth, the necromancer glanced over to their new companion on the road. Besides the trembling wreck of the boy, (who had stuttered that his name was P-P-P-Piper), a grim, lanky man had heard of Hillsburg's plight, walking alongside them like a tall shadow.

    Any attempts at conversation ("Oh, you're from Angkar? How are the beaches?" or "Would you like a pie?") had been cut short by the man's taciturn nature; embracing defeat, the necromancer had simply filled the void of silence and loneliness with food. He moved on to a mince pie, tentatively poking at conversation again. His yellow eyes wandered over the landscape -- boring and repetitive as ever, only this time some haystacks peppered the road.

    "So, ah, Piper--" the boy flinched every time the necromancer spoke to him, "--tell me, what did this ogre--?"

    He was cut short by the fact a man had just sailed across the sky, plunging into a haystack. The necromancer would've screamed in surprise, but for the fact he'd inhaled the little mince pie and it currently lodged in his throat. Mercifully Piper took up the screaming instead, eyes nearly popping out of his skull when the ex-airborne man started speaking.

    "D-D-D-Dieter! Dieter! Are you okay?!" He dropped the sack of food and bolted over to the haystack as Phaedrus recovered, thumping his chest and finally swallowing the offending pastry.

    The necromancer coughed once into his fist, then straightened and frowned at the scene before him. Good thing the other one was a healer -- he had nothing to offer, and less knowledge of how to right anything. A bandage, perhaps? "Softened it, did you," Phaedrus repeated slowly, skeptically, glancing the boy over. He'd leave the grim fellow from Angkar to deal with his injuries. Piper was fussing around, extending a skinny hand to help Dieter up.

    "Um. Yes. I've come to assist your noble town of--" the necromancer struggled to remember the name, wiping his crumby hands on his pants, "--ah, Bridgeburg. Hillsburg. Excuse me." He coughed into his fist a second time, furrowing his brow at the mess before him. "You may call me Phaedrus. I'm a sorcererrrrr, er--" Something piqued his senses. He snapped his head towards the road, at the approaching figure. Squinting, he made it out to be some sort of blue, redheaded creature brandishing a crude weapon -- an ogre-ling, perhaps? -- and tensed, though he couldn't see a speck of armor on her person.

    "You there!" The necromancer barked nastily, hoping he wouldn't have a coughing fit mid-sentence again. That would ruin the authority in his voice. "What are you doing on this road? Identify yourself."


    (abilities used: naming + drain energy, warding II, dead hand)
    Edited by Phaedrus, Aug 28 2016, 01:22 PM.
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    Her mind being completely focused on her assigned task, Jamona paid little attention to the small gathering of characters. What she aptly sensed, however, was a thump caused by a large sack colliding with the very ground she was standing on. Or rather, hovering over, since her bare feet did not appear to be touching the road's surface.

    Well, then maybe I won't be needing this for now, she hypothesized as she tucked away her tool under the cloth tied tightly around her waist, which seemed to be functioning as a makeshift belt. Upon closer inspection, the ten-inch blade looked closer to heavily misused kitchen utensil than a combat-ready knife or dagger, which might strike an experienced adventurer as an odd sight to behold.

    Without showing any sign of reaction to the necromancer's inquiry, and not even deigning to look at him, she reached the spot where they were standing, clearly intending to proceed past them and towards the sack which lay beyond.


    [Edit: I just realized Jamona wouldn't know what's in the sack. Silly me. Guess I was tired last night. I changed the wording to better reflect this lack of knowledge. Sorry if this caused any confusion.]
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