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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  • CURRENT EVENTS

    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.

    For a fuller description of our most recent events, check out our most recent edition of The Town Crier!

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    Welcome to our home, a world in which anything can happen. From sprawling deserts and vast forests to massive volcanoes and luscious hot springs, Soare and the Scattered Isles are beautiful places just waiting to be explored. For the brave and the bold or the cautious and the wary, creatures of all kinds roam the earth, looking for adventure or for a place to call their own. Species of all kinds - the well-known and the unknown - thrive here, though not always in harmony.

    Elenlond is an original medieval fantasy RPG with a world that's as broad as it is unique. Calling on characters of all kinds, the sky's the limit in a world where boundaries are blurred and the imagination runs rampant. Restrictions are limited and members are encouraged to embrace their creativity, to see where they can go and what they can do. It's no longer just text on a page - it becomes real.

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    Wyld Hunt: Green Eyed Monsters; *~ Closed ~*
    Topic Started: Mar 14 2017, 10:52 AM (85 Views)
    Jhaereth
    Member Avatar
    Simply Fabulous

    [tldr; Jared enters the city, meets a familiar face, is about to have a breakdown about his own hypocrisy when it comes to destroying things he loves. Fight impending.]

    Gloved hands scrabbled for a handhold, half numb with the chill seeping out of the stones. He found it, spindly fingers working into the gaps between cunningly artificed rock, and heaved himself up another foot, found the top and dragged himself the last stretch. The wind snapped and bit at him, sank its teeth into his exposed skin and sent a shudder playing the length of his spine. Thought the latter may have been due to the vast quantity of water that had been dumped over his head as he scaled the craggy surface. There were so many plants still clinging to the wall, one might have though it summer yet, and all of them sly reservoirs for the sleet that had since melted into slush.

    It had seemed so much easier, scaling walls underground. This one was a walk in the park in comparison, rough shod stone, worn and ground by the weather, plenty of handholds...but he'd not really taken the wind into account.

    Exhilarating, almost like flying, really.
    Jhaereth raised his arms from his crouch, breathless with excitement and felt it push him, rocking him back and forth on his perch, skirling around and tugging hard on his piwafwi. The feeling passed as quickly as it had come, left him sitting there a fool, extremities aching from the cold, almost as bitter as his mood.

    It had been his city. Well not at first, but he'd begun to make it his, learning the little pathways between buildings, the tenuous walkways where one could cross half the city on the rooftops if they knew which course to take, and never have to set foot in the street. Most of the slums had been sacked, abandoned and left to rot, though from the smell you'd never have been able to tell the difference from when they were not. Perhaps they even smelled a little better, what with the lack of habitation.

    He could have gotten behind the fae. Could have been a wonderful asset to them. Except that the obvious flaw being that they were fae. Back in the days before there had been so many varieties of elfin creatures, back before the sundering, and way they had banded together to keep his own, the betrayers, deep beneath the ground.
    Oh yes, he could have gotten behind them were it not for his inherent disgust and prejudice.

    It wasn't that, though, that had caused him to take up arms against them. No, no. It was this, this whole mass of structures smashed together, the roots of this place, and all the green things growing from them, slowly reclaiming parts of it. It reminded him of the home he'd probably never go back to.

    And she'd stolen it from him.

    His covetous, jealous nature surfaced, and for one impossibly uncouth moment of rage, he turned his head and spat off the top of the wall. Or tried. He'd never been very good at it, and it ended up more a sort of..dribble...that just left him angrier and vaguely embarrassed.

    Well he was here now, after months of lurking in the quiet places, of stalking unwary and overconfident prey, of watching them pass through the shadows of trees and not exit the other side...he was here. This was his fucking city, and he was taking it back.

    The dark elf tied his piwafwi around his narrow waist tightly to stop it billowing, drawing the hood down further against the elements and leaned out over the wall towards the city. The clouds were thick, boiling with the promise of snow. It was better this way...there was no effective way he could infiltrate the drow in her forces, he knew that. He was just...better than them. Which was fine. Modesty had never been his strong suit.

    Jhaereth stepped off the wall, hands flickering, and vanished.

    *~*~*~

    He hit the roof running, tiles making a dull clonk under his soles, despite the enchantment for silence. There wasn't very much he could effectively do about it, so he kept going, footsteps muffled as much as was inhumanly possible, easily gripping the spines of roofs, swinging off the edge of gutters and scrambling over smoke-hatches like a mad thing. This was what he was made for. It was all so...easy.

    Jhaereth found himself grinning as he put on a burst of speed, his last step a leap, carrying him far further than would have been expected were it not for the aid of his boots. He gestured lightly, his descent slowed, feather soft as he sailed out over the street, snow stinging his face, hard little pinpricks due to the velocity he was moving at.

    The land had begun to rise gradually here, felt even up on the rooftops. There were more tiled roofs, dangerous in these cold and wet conditions, for the falling temperatures laced all with frost, making for poor footing. As if loose tiling wasn't bad enough. Eventually the wood and thatch gave way almost entirely to the bloody things, and the buildings began to space out enough that simply leaping and levitating wasn't enough.
    He paused to check himself, still invisible though the thick flakes of snow were beginning to make it something of a pointless endeavor. Wet, sticky flakes, that stuck to him where possible, hitting the tiles and melting almost immediately. At least he wasn't leaving footprints, but combined with the wind, he could see that anyone looking for longer than a moment was going to notice the oddly cookie-cutter man-shaped hole running on past in the streets.

    He enjoyed the challenge...not so much the bonus opportunity of freezing.

    Carefully, he dropped from the roof, using a roughly assembled gutter to shimmy down the wall. At the bottom, he surveyed the empty street, the muzzy silhouette of the guildhall up ahead. Yes, there he'd taken tea with Merisiel one afternoon, pampered her like a princess and they'd gorged themselves on sweetmeats and such delectable treats that money could buy. He frowned, thinking of how that was gone now. His entire hoard, lost to those greedy fae, bar the one meager cache he'd bothered to hide. He'd never thought he'd actually need it. Perhaps it could fund something a little more prosperous in the future..a new start...

    Or at least a tea shop.

    The drow sighed, and slipped away down a side street, stepping over a corpse long since frozen to the ground. Someone who'd not bothered to leave, presumably. Or perhaps a casualty of the first attack. It wouldn't have surprised him to know that the fae enjoyed leaving corpses strewn around as ornamentation. They weren't all dresses made of leaves and fawning fat babies with wings and gorgeous women with antennae, much as humans liked to make up stories.

    His feet carried him to the end of the alley, and he stepped out into the frigid dusk, resenting the sudden wind blowing up the main thoroughfare, more or less abandoned now. Several sluggish figures moved closer to the guildhall. It was brighter up there, a wistful sort of warmth that beckoned and played to the weary. A faint strain of wild music warbled on the air and was gone, a hint of burbling laughter. He shrank back as a wandering light ambled past and kept going, apparently all by itself. A wisp, by his estimation, though he'd never seen one up close before. It seemed to fill him with the thought of promise, or at least a hoarder's insensible greed, and for a moment he followed after it, his thoughts fixed on appeasing it before he gathered himself. Of course, the more you clung to material things...and he so did like material things...

    It stopped, rotated to stare in his direction and hung there, tasting his thoughts. Jhaereth spent a long moment holding his breath, wondering if it could see him, and feeling it reaching out, probing. He'd thought it was a face at first, a tiny thing of sculpted beauty, but on closer inspection it was...less so...just an artificial mask, rotting away to show the grisly truth beneath it. It seemed undecided, hanging there, searching for him, its golden radiance enticing...

    Well that's just as disgusting as I imagined.

    He flexed his hand, and suddenly swatted at it as one would with a bothersome pest. Simultaneously, a thick mass of shadow seeped from the cracks between the cobbles, and flattened the wisp against the wall of the nearest building. It made a rather pathetic jangle as he squashed it, glittering dust snatched up and stolen by the thieving wind.

    "I feel better already." He muttered, and kicked the little pile of dust for good measure, scattering it across the stones, before slithering away towards his destination.

    *~*~*~

    Tiptoeing around the mess of camps and lean-to's around the Guildhall was not as easy as it had seemed before. If the sleet wasn't a danger to showing up his outline, then the humble, flicking fires that cast their wavering light between the figures huddles around them certainly was. Being invisible didn't mean you didn't cast a shadow, after all.

    It was only when he was but a few strides from the wall that a familiar face strode from the doors, frowning and preoccupied. Immediately he felt a deep sense of loathing surge up within himself, absolute fury at the memory of being subjugated, his beautiful mane hacked at roughly with his own blade. The half-breed stopped, inclined his head then lifted his nose as if trying to catch a scent. A breath passed, one, two...then he turned and stared directly at the point Jhaereth stood.

    He didn't move, couldn't, couldn't even tell if the Cambion could see him, but he knew sure as shit that he could sense him. That freak, capable of peering at the innermost thoughts and feelings of those around him...so perverse...so disgusting...

    Kill him, kill him now! Cut him down!

    His fingers curled around the hilt of his stiletto, gripped it hard to stop them shaking with rage and humiliation. Of course he knew. He couldn't strike out at him, even if the...man...defended himself, he'd give away his position, alert half the gods damned camp and he...he still had a mission. Jhaereth gritted his teeth til his jaw made an unsightly popping noise. Decisions, decisions...

    It was made for him when the half-breed turned away, pausing to smile and shrug in his directly, coal skin edged with ember red.

    He'd remember, oh yes. And when they next met, he'd gut him like a fish and pose his corpse where all could see, and know what happened to those who deliberately destroyed beautiful things. They would, they would, yes. The drow sneered, and slowly backed away as the enemy shrank, quickly swallowed by the worsening weather. Why hadn't he ousted him though? He must have known what he was here to do...unless...

    Treacherous dog.

    He began to climb.
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    Jhaereth
    Member Avatar
    Simply Fabulous

    The drow dragged himself nimbly over the lip of the roof, hands slipping and clawing for a hold on the wet tile. For a moment he'd hung, letting the wind tug at his skinny frame, then he'd swung a leg up and pulled himself over, crouching thoughtfully. It was warmer up here, warmer than he expected anyway. It should have been bitterly cold, exposed as it was but it was almost as though he'd just entered an expensive inn, the wind seemed quieter though it was still there, warmer and gentler. The sleet didn't seem to be coming quite so heavy, though it still pattered down to melt on the roof.

    Thaumic field...

    Well that was just fine, it would make this whole ordeal that much easier, all he had to do was-

    Green eyes caught her, sitting serenely with bare knees tucked to her chest. Soft swathe of red hair shielding her shoulders, caressing her back and pooling on the tiles, skin as soft as a peach, dusted with freckles. His heart swelled, ached to look upon her.

    Lachesis?

    As if she had heard him think her name, the nymph shifted, the one eye he could see painted so brightly, delicate as the wing of a butterfly, searching for him. He wanted to go to her, to throw his arms around her and hold her, shield her from the cold and-

    What the hell was he doing? He'd already taken two silent steps before he caught himself, breathing hard with the sudden need to touch her, to hold her warmth against him and shelter her from the storm. Eyes the colour of standing water, the bottom of a forest pool, hiding mossy rocks and tiny dark fish-

    Stop that at once! What are you, fifteen? Wake up you philistine!

    A tiny wrinkle marred her perfect forehead, one hand bracing herself on the roof as she turned to look, concerned eyes searching, but not finding. Oh how he ached...

    Jhaereth sank his teeth into his own tongue til he tasted blood, biting his lip over and over, hard as he could to ground himself. They'd not mentioned anything like this...this...beauty...he who revered such beauty...killing her would be the most horrifying act he'd ever committed...such hypocrisy...destroying everything he revered! How could anyone destroy something so delicate and perfect?

    He bit his lip again, harder this time, and exhaled slowly.

    The curve of her jaw, framed by such unnaturally red hair, a shade he'd never seen before, so silken and-

    What a bitch.

    His thoughts seem to stutter and derail. Just as well, they hadn't felt much like his own.

    How dare she have such perfect hair? It's...simply outrageous! It's...ugh. It's the same colour as that wretched, fat swine of a necromancer.

    That seemed to do it for him, and he felt himself relaxing back into familiar disdain. He hadn't wanted to do the job when he'd discovered that loathsome philanderer was involved, but as much as he hated Phaedrus, he hated the fae more. It would just have to be the one instance that an exception was made for the lesser of two evils, or something like that. He wondered briefly which one that made him.

    It was still difficult to see her as the necromancer but he made himself, trying to impose that mental image of piss-yellow eyes, a mouth as tight as a cat's arse.

    Vinegar faced old pisspot. Oh...how uncouth.

    Lachesis stood, unfolding as gracefully as a willow moves in the wind. Maybe he should throw himself off the roof. That might fix everything. It seemed like the best course when she opened her mouth and spoke, her voice as soft as thistledown.

    "Hello?"

    And then he was there, mere feet from her, one hand raised to touch her. He blinked, hissed and recoiled. This...this was unprecedented. He was disgusted with himself, such lack of control! How was she doing this to him?! She was staring right at him, her mouth open just so, perfect for kissing, eyes wide with something like surprise and...gladness? Was she lonely? Oh she must be, up here by herself in the cold...

    No, stop! Don't touch her you thrice damned idiot!

    Too late, her fingers were pawing at his coat, pulling him closer, pressing her distracting nakedness against him. He swallowed, unable to form a real sentence, just trying to keep his hands away from either of them. Her lips looked so soft, tantalizing...he almost didn't notice the prickling in his legs as brambles thicker than a man's wrist coiled so casually up the length of him. At least until the thorns started pressing their nasty little razor hooks into the flesh of his thighs anyway.

    He jerked back, feeling skin protest as the razor thorns sank into him, away from her eager kiss, fingers gripping the back of his neck too hard, winding into a fist in his hair-

    -a flash of pure malice in those eyes-

    -green eyed monster, looking at them like that-

    -stop thinking with your dick-

    -more trouble than you're worth, you know tha-

    -Vhaeraun's perfect arse, just shoot her already!


    Jhaereth struggled for a moment, one hand going to her pale throat and trying to hold her away from him, surprisingly strong even as he throttled her, one hand fumbling at his waist. He drew the long ebony wand from his belt, hands shaking as they grappled, growling through his teeth, hissing in one another's face, couldn't help but think her breath smelled like carrion, and she was so strong..so strong...

    "Olot'dos!"*

    He shot her in the face, a mass of sticky white webbing that made her shriek and recoil, hand fluttering to her eyes, only to get caught in the entrapment as well.
    "You know there's a joke here but I can't quite put my finger on it."
    Jhaereth used the distraction to work the wand beneath the brambles on his legs, sawing through them with his stiletto. Thankfully the thickness of his boots had protected him from most of it, though his thighs disagreed as he yanked the intruding thorns out and hurled them away, already shriveling once cut from the source, and sheathing the blade once more.

    The drow staggered as the ground heaved beneath his feet, wincing as he was forced into a half crouch to brace himself, gawking as tiles began pulling themselves up by the dozen, great thorns tearing loose from the roofing where they'd been seeded.
    Blind as she was, she'd still find him eventually, all she had to do was flatten every inch of the roof until he was dashed to pieces as well. He glanced up as a particularly ill shadow moved over him, eyes near popping out of their sockets as a bramble wider than he was tall came whipping savagely down.
    "Oh, shi-"
    He squawked as he was thrown clear from the impact, shattered tiles whizzing past, fingers scrabbling for any stable handhold they could get. It was all turning into one of those Smutpurn novella's he'dheard so much about. They never spoke about how damned dangerous it was, he was finding out first hand.

    Worse, the handful of small camps littering the walk around the Guildhall seemed to be emptying, though there seemed more activity going into the hall than out...several of the drow appeared to be....cheering? Well that was refreshing. He couldn't fathom why they'd decided to join their hated enemy, but perhaps they had a bet on who could get up here and stab the nymph...

    Scrambling back onto the roof, he found that Lachesis appeared to be kneeling, weeping as she flailed madly, failing to free herself from the elasticated webbing. With some glee, he noted that it had absolutely ruined her fabulous hair. It was a small thing to snatch up a broken tile and toss it past her, clacking off the roof in the other direction. Immediately her head whipped in that direction and a bramble-tentacle crashed down where the noise had been. He used the opportunity to get closer, blasting one of the tendrils with his wand and sticking it to the rooftop. It wouldn't hold it long, but long enough to keep it off him, with any luck.

    And then he tripped, his toes catching on a loose tile and sending him sprawling in an undignified manner. Lachesis whipped around at the sound, a bramble coiling firmly around his ankle and dragging him across the disarrayed, sharp roof and into the air to dangle before her, half tangled is his own piwafwi. He felt her hands slapping at him, grabbing his wrist and then tugging the wand from his grip before he managed to push his hood back enough to see her.
    "W-wait! I only came here to bring you a gift!"
    "You think a gift will win me over now? You blinded me! I am hideous!"
    "No contest there, darling." He squawked as she hit him soundly around the head with his own wand, ears ringing. "It'll wear off! You didn't have to try and kill me, oh beauteous one!"
    She seemed slightly mollified by the compliment, preening even as she made to touch the mess of her face.

    Oh good, flattery, they always said it will get you nowhere!

    "Divine flower, will you accept my apologies? I could clean your face, brush your hair, kiss your feet-"
    She hit him again, and just as well because he could feel himself slipping into her charm again, a sickening adoration that clearly was only cured by a vicious and unwarranted beating.
    "You have a pretty tongue. Perhaps I'll cut it out and feed it to you."
    "There are better uses I could put it to."
    She hit him enough times that he hung dazed for a moment, listening to the groan of the wind and her labored breathing.
    "Please accept this offering.." He fumbled in his piwafwi for a moment, then drew out the tiny orb he'd been given charge of. "A most wonderful jewel, that might reflect the beauty of the one who holds it..."
    "Give it to me."
    "Of course. Here, catch."

    He tossed the orb so casually, and she reached for it, danced it off the tips of her fingers...and dropped it, clinking at her feet and bouncing on the tiles. Swiftly she bent and grabbed it before it went any further. Inwardly he cursed, having hoped it would shatter. Yet as she lifted it in her hands, feeling the weight and the contours with her fingers, he saw it. A crack in the surface, seeping gaseous substance. She cried out as her fingers found it, hurling it away from herself where it smashed on the rooftop. The nearest bramble quivered and began to wilt, drying out and flaking away into nothing. Like a chain reaction, they began shuddering and dropping like flies, and he was free from the generous grip of his captor, to fall on his face at her feet. Her magic was failing all around her, sickening her from the inside out.
    "You...what have you done?"
    "A terrible thing."

    She seemed torn by this, shaking as the effects of the vile pathogen took hold of her, eating away even at the webbing he'd shot at her. A magic feeder then...interesting. He saw the flash of terrible anger as she sank to her knees, the sudden drag as something caught his cloak and pulled him towards the edge of the roof. Serpent green eyes narrowed in hate, rivaling her own clear, wild ones, and crooked his hands in a fluid gesture.
    The air around her turned bitter cold. From the ground up it came, a merciless frost encasing her pure form, perfect skin and terrified eyes preserved perfectly, her hands still reaching plaintively toward him, free of the ice. His trip across the tiles stopped, the tendril weakening and disintegrating on the wind.

    For a short while he just lay there, feeling the cold and the wet soak into him as the warmth in the air faded, the sleet stinging his face, reminding him he was still alive. She'd have probably eaten him, and he'd have gone willingly. There was no terror though, only a numbness. He'd probably destroyed the most beautiful thing in all of Soare.

    After a while the assassin got to his feet and moved to her side, peering blankly through the ice at her unmoving features. What was this...feeling? Did he feel...no it wasn't sad. Simply...not good...for what he'd done. For what he was going to do. He didn't know the word he was looking for was regretful, having only ever used it in an ironic sense. Carefully he pried his wand from her frozen protruding fingers and slipped it back into his belt, then he gestured the spell and watched the shadows creep from the broken roofing, coalescing into a menacing hand. He flexed his fingers, curled them into a fist, and the hand did likewise.

    He stepped clear, pursing his lips, and brought his arm down heavily.



    Ice shattered.



    *Darkness take you!
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