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Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy roleplaying forum! We strive for creative, free-form roleplaying, in the hopes of allowing each and every single member the power to achieve their potential.
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| Welcome to Elenlond, an original medieval fantasy forum! We're always looking for new, dedicated members. Elenlond is composed of two continents: Soare and Esiria. Esiria, a land now isolated due to the efforts of the last remaining Goddess, is inaccessible to all beings and lies in the east. Soare, a continent in the west, is composed of three distinct nations: Ashoka, Soto, and Morrim. Lying between the two major continents are the Scattered Isles. Since the dissolution of the pantheon and the fall of the gods, these countries have existed in relative peace and prosperity. But how long will that peace last? Enter Elenlond; Turn the pages and tell your own tale. If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| The Return | |
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| Topic Started: Jan 16 2009, 02:14 PM (101 Views) | |
| Andromalius | Jan 16 2009, 02:14 PM Post #1 |
King of the Sexy Guys
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For a few centuries, the people of Elenlond had been safe. In their safety, they had become naive. They had begun to believe that they and their families could no longer be touched by the influence of the Gods. But a God's breath lingered, lying in wait for them to become completely oblivious before their worlds were stripped from them, and all they had to do was listen to a story. How senseless had they become to disregard him as just a fairy tale. They could not see that the damage he had done will not be erased from this world for ages yet to come. And just as the world had begun to really heal its wounds, some brainless moron had come waltzing into the forbidden tower, deep within the heart of the mountains. He, of all people, should have known it was a terrible idea. He was the one to research the power the last breath of a God possessed. He alone knew the wicked Banshee, the last soul on the planet to call him by name, and what happened when he arrived there and unwittingly uncaged the evil? The last man in Elenlond who knew the evil by name was killed by the evil, just because his life was so easy to take. What, exactly, did he think this act would change? What part of the horrible stories did he not understand? Just what was he thinking? The White Mage had long since passed. Now there was no known entity to stop him from his desire and wrath, at least... not when he retained his full power. His shadow pets had been doing a wonderful job - as usual. The only downside to using them for support is their lack of individual minds. A greatly useful thing could run right into them, and they would destroy it in order to resume their mission. He would much prefer a real person for some things. However, he was no novice to being able to wield them, and did so as he would dogs. The shadow elements had been successful in stealing him money, clothes, and for the most part, keeping his lair protected. He didn't want anyone to barge in from whom he would have to beg for his life. He might as well kill himself right then and there. It was rather disconcerting to walk into his throne room one day and discover a buck on the steps, sniffing his constructs. How in the world could his security miss that? He would not have been able to interpret to anyone the rage he had felt upon this discovery. His only vent was to kill the creature, peel its face off of its bones, rip out the skull, and make it into a fun mask. Once wearing the mask, admittedly, he felt much better, almost giddy. Alas, he would have to work with what he had, and at the pitiful level his power was bobbing at, he could only control his pets for a mere hour, leaving time while he rested for any simple wanderer to stroll in there, as long as they were lucky enough to stumble on the one single entrance disguised as a cave at the foothills of the Do'suul Mountains. He was more than cautious, taking extra measures such as sleeping beneath the ground, as humiliating as that was. Recently, he had been sending his darklings out into the world to gather knowledge. He needed to know what had changed in his lands before he set out to destroy it again. Every single thing was seen as a tool for manipulation. He must know just what tools were available to him. Certainly, not much has changed. On the contrary, he had grown a bit paler - if it was at all possible - to discover that magic was widely practiced now. He may have to work a bit harder to meet his dreams of oceans of blood and chaos. Today? What was different? Nothing. He wasn't any closer to regaining his powers, but his library was growing, as was his knowledge of the world as it stood now. The Black Mage, Grand Master Andromalius the Wicked, sat upon his custom throne in the center room of his underground tower, a leg draped on the arm rest, reclined into the corner of the seat, flipping through pages of the modern. He knew not of the approaching circumstances, nor of the shadow elemental heading his way with a huge bag of assorted things its master may find of use. It was a big, obvious, black spot in the middle of the clearing just before the entrance of the cave, which would inevitably lead to his chambers. It was unobservant of patrons around it, for it cared not. Its mission was simple, and its master said nothing about hiding. In fact, because of this, all across Morrim, people had been whispering of living shadows. Unfortunately, Andromalius only had one thing on his mind, and that blind-sighted him to the dangers of his orders. The elemental finally reached the cave, and then began to vanish among the shadows within. Just at the mouth, the hour of control depleted. The bag was dropped, flopping open for any passing by to rummage through. |
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| Kara Arianrhod | Jan 22 2009, 02:48 AM Post #2 |
 
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{{I hope this is okay I know it's a bit on the short side. Sorry it took so long to reply, it was my birthday this past weekend and I was barley home. }} There was something comforting about the Do'suul Mountains. Perhaps it was because she had lived, once, upon their lofty heights, and thus it was comfort in familiarity, or perhaps it was because they were in their own way, secluded.Whatever the case, she now found herself weaving through the reminiscent foliage, and under large bows around the skirts of Do'suul. She had ventured away from the land she had so fondly called home, taking in one new town at a time, and adjusting to the changes the world, and her life, were taking. She had traveled far, and yet knew she had not strayed out of her old habits as she should, her social life hardly existent these days, secretly denying fear was still present. What had called her back, to what was now dubbed Morrim, she could not place. It had simply been what she would call an "on the whim" gut feeling, and had without question or second thought, followed it. And so she was, as she had been mindlessly and without purpose, strolling. The deep hood of her shredded and torn gray wrap, obscured her features as she went, though she could feel the rain was still off yet, only touching the city's outskirts thus far. It had been a few hours of this nonchalant wandering, that a most peculiar sight had caught her attention, though not so peculiar as to which she could not place it's cause (or so she thought). In the distance, there was a rather distinct density, moving gingerly through -plainly obvious it knew its way about and where it was going. She could feel the tinge in the air, knowing before she saw the creature, under the sizable sack it was carrying, that it was derived of magic. It's gait was clearly one on a mission, and she could not stop her curiosity from turning her course to follow it. She moved silently at a distance in its wake, wondering to where and whom the minion of shadow would lead. It had taken her on a decent fifteen minute quest before emerging into a small clearing, and then quite suddenly, melting back into the shadows from which it was derived. She had halted only momentarily, before moving on to the sack it had dropped. The static feel of magic had left the air, the creature gone, and now only the sack remained, with a new mystery as she approached it, the cave growing more noticeable with each step. It was the cave that caught her off guard, and she stared at the entrance as the first gentle beads of rain began to fall. She knew the land like the back of her hand, the mountains had once been her domain, and yet- she could not recall this cave in any of her adventures. Curiosity grew, and the prospect of finding a wonder she had long passed was too alluring. Had she taken a moment to look within the sack, and she may have guessed what she would possibly find. Had she any blatant fear, and she might have been a bit more cautious. However, neither applied as she wound her way silently into the cave, deeper and deeper until she could no longer hear the symphony caused by the rain pelting the luscious green leaves. She had not even bothered to summon a source of light. Edited by Kara Arianrhod, Jan 22 2009, 02:55 AM.
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| Andromalius | Jan 24 2009, 01:03 AM Post #3 |
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King of the Sexy Guys
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An alabaster thumb came to bloodless lips, peeling back to insert the tip of his nail between his teeth, an idle action that he had been doing since he could remember. An oral fixation. His teeth generally had to be doing something while he was focused, and focused he was. He was focused to the point of completely forgetting that he had elementals out there, as well as their time limit. The ancient mage could only recognize when his energy stopped draining, when the spell faded. So, with little effort and little haste, he gradually raised his eyes from the pages of the book in his hand. At that very moment, he could heard the thud of many objects falling, somewhere beyond the entrance of his tower. With the large, open spaces and smooth walls, an echo could be carried quite far. He guessed it had been the elemental, considering the noise occurred only just after the magic had withered. Knowing that there was a giant bag full of new things close to his reach, he delicately set the book down and rose. he made no sound in doing so, not even the stroke of fabric. His steps were fluid enough to give him the appearance of a ghost - which was technically what he was. A long train of silver and black fabric followed him, eventually consenting to leave their resting place on the steps to his throne. A spidery hand would occasionally leave the shelter of that fabric and its long, enveloping sleeves in order to drag its talons over the dusty rock on either side of himself. A short time later, he could see the light of the outside world just beyond and ...what was that? A figure creeping closer... Did she see him? His white skin amidst the darkness? It had been so long since he had any contact with someone else, other than that idiot who woke him up. His mind was buzzing with what to do with this person. They could be handy ...handier than his darklings. This time, he couldn't jump so quickly to killing it. He didn't have the luxury. It would have to wait until he could crawl out of this hole. What was he left with? A fake smile and obnoxious niceness. "Well, hello there. What are you doing all the way out here, my dear?" He stopped and remained where he was, at a distance where she could not afflict any immediate damage, but he had to tread carefully, lest she be a spell-caster like himself. |
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