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.


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!


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.


  • We accept any member who wants to RP here;
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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.

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

    Qayin Graves
    Supporting Admin.

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    Kindle Blackheath
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    Sinadryn Arsydian
    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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    Silvertongue II: The Necromancers in Cell Block C
    Topic Started: Dec 11 2017, 06:53 PM (150 Views)
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    Desert Wraith

    Qayin awoke in a steel cage, hung from sturdy chain in the middle of the room. The distant screams of those being tortured echoed down the spiraling steps, deep into the underdark of the labyrinthine prison long kept secret from the Angkarian populace. This was what the few who escaped whispered about, the dreaded place without a name that drove men mad. The necromancer knew none of this though, and instead woke up rather annoyed at the fact that he had been detained. Knowledge of what had occurred yesterday had thoroughly escaped his mind, and so he sat sulking, arms folded as the cage slowly shifted from side to side. After some time struggling to awaken, he turned and looked to his side, blinded by a foppish mess of red hair.

    “Gods. You?” Phaedrus did not yet seem to be awake, but the idea of their ensuing conversation when that did occur caused a second wave of pain to course through his head. It was then that he realized just how bruised and battered he had become. Flashes of emerald hues and clashing steel entered the mage’s mind, and he shuddered.

    “What happened out there?” Harsh laughter burst out from below, and his cage was struck with a solid metal club, held in the hands of a giant with three eyes.

    “A lot. You both stuck here ‘til islands sink under ocean, scrawny mages. Bwahahaha!” With another swing of his weapon that sent the two cages clashing into each other, the triclops lumbered off, laughing to himself as his eyes slowly drifted away from one another.

    “I’ve always wondered what lazy eyes would look like on a creature like that.” The swaying of the cage had given him an idea, and he grinned, though it hurt to do so. With a magical flash, he warped into an orb, rolling straight towards the edge of the cage. The younger necromancer had almost made it out, when suddenly something in the air shifted, causing Qayin to demorph and become stuck in the bars of the cage. His limbs were twisted around in almost inhuman positions, and his neck and legs were all stuck confusedly into compromising positions. It was then that he heard the grumbling awakening of Phaedrus in the cage behind him.

    “This is the start of something beautiful, I see.” Prisoners in the cells that lined the walls of this place all clambered to their feet and came to see what was about to happen. Every man and woman there could sense that something was about to happen, something that would change their lives forever. Or, at the very least, it would entertain them for a few moments.
    Member Avatar
    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.

    (note: I went ahead and assumed they were both in the same cage, like we discussed ooc, but I can always amend it if you change your mind! ;0 )

    His head felt cleaved in two.

    The necromancer's eyes fluttered open; his cheek was pressed against something hard and cold, vaguely metallic -- and the floor was moving.

    A gasp left him. Bracing himself up on an elbow, the room blurrily came into focus like a nightmare. Panic flooded him. Bars. Cages. Cages, it was jail, a cage--

    His nails scratched the floor as he scrambled upright, and that's when he realized he wasn't alone.

    This is the start of something beautiful, I see. A few paces away, in a grotesque tangle of limbs -- like a spider smashed underfoot -- Qayin was half-stuck in the bars, his face smug even through the pain.

    You.” The smaller necromancer was breathless with anger. He had gone beyond it; his face was like a slab over a tomb, cold and still but for the eruptive rage in his eyes. He could not breathe. He could not think. Every shred of his body screamed to see Qayin ripped into a thousand pieces no one could ever put together. The cage disappeared in its entire— the prisoners staring from their cells — the monolithic back of the ogre, ponderously making his rounds.

    There was only Qayin.

    Phaedrus flew at him like a jaguar, digging his hands into flesh—cloth—hair--anything—a feral howl left him as he half-pushed, half-pulled Qayin in the bars, unsure if he should push him out into his death below or pull him into his death within.

    "I'll kill you," he shrieked helpfully, deciding the taller necromancer was too stuck to move; smashing his shaggy head into the bars seemed like a more reasonable option. "I'll--kill--you!"

    "OI!" Their scuffle had attracted the attention of their hideous gaoler, and the triclops stomped over, brandishing his club. His three eyes struggled to stare in one direction. What looked like a red weasel was attacking the bigger, greasier weasel, screaming like a cat in heat. It was a pathetic sight. "No kill!"

    Shouting, he slammed the club into the cage with a thunderous crash.

    The impact sent Phaedrus flying forward into Qayin's chest with a whump; of a sudden he was wedged too close to the man's rank armpit, and his face curdled like milk. The necromancer shoved Qayin and pushed himself away, his hair a mad flyaway of tangles, half-liberated from its braid. His fine clothes were stained by dust and torn in places; a thin line of black trickled from his nostril to his lip where he busted it in the arena earlier.

    "Unhand me," Phaedrus shouted at the ogre, stomping over to the bars and seizing them. "I've done nothing," he shrieked over the ogre's sudden, rumbling laughter, his grey-blue belly shaking with it. "I demand a fair trial," the necromancer screeched as he shook the bars, his voice spiking to a harpy's scream.

    The triclops winced and rubbed his ear with a thick finger, baring teeth like yellow gravestones. "Trial," he chuckled to himself. "You rot forever, little screaming bird-man," he informed him, swinging the club around in warning.
    Edited by Phaedrus, Dec 12 2017, 02:18 PM.
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    Desert Wraith

    “Gods, what a mess this is.” The pain from the initial assault from Phaedrus had subsided, as had the ringing in his head from the shaking of the cage they found themselves in. Discarding the now torn and bloodied cloak, he nodded.

    “Before you say a thing, I am well aware this is largely my fault. That doesn’t mean you didn’t play a part in it though. Unfortunately, that means we have to put our heads together.” They sat in silence, listening to the sounds of those languishing amongst the cells and cages dotted amongst the giant cavern. His eyes slowly drifted to the garments he discarded, narrowing. He glanced over at their guard, and his rather odd, branch-thin neck.

    “Do you imagine you could put those disgusting talons to good use?” He tossed the old rags at man dismissively. With a sharp jab of his fingers, he pointed at the creature that was watching them.

    “Not sure how yet, but if we could get those around his throat from behind, I’m sure we’d think of something after to help us escape. It’s up to you though, I suppose we could not try it and just rot here like the rest.”
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