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!

    daringraven
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    Qayin Graves
    SHADOW
    Supporting Admin.

    Kestrel Sumner (Shadow)
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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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    Touch the Sky; ~ Open! ~
    Topic Started: Jan 11 2016, 09:43 PM (328 Views)
    Bast
    Member Avatar
    'He shall be tormented with fire and brimstone.../And the smoke of their torment ascendeth up, for ever and ever;'

    The sun still shone warmly, despite the season's turn, left a feeble heat in the sandy stones of the wall beneath her feet. She wiggled her toes, delighting in the odd feel of the texture under her soles, the rough dip where the carelessly-hewn bricks had been mortared together, crumbling now. The wind was strong up here atop the old tower, skirling through her outstretched fingers, arms held out level as she balanced on the precipice, robin's egg skirts slapping against her legs from the force of it.

    The height didn't bother her in the slightest, though she'd peered over that edge with curiosity for some time, had pictured herself toppling over, tumbling soundlessly and smashing into the cobbles a dozen times already, more, even. It wasn't the height, nor the fall the bothered her. Only the eventual landing, dashing hard onto the stone in a scattered nimbus of embers, like fireflies.

    More importantly, it was the rebirth that left her feeling slightly...stressed.

    A small smile curved her lips as she turned slowly on her perch, arms lifting to embrace the wholeness, the wild ferocity of the wind, words springing unbidden to her lips to be snatched away in the gale.

    "I will ride, I will fly, chase the wind, and touch th' sky!"

    Her feet turned, carefully pacing along the length of the wall, feeling out as before, the circular perimeter tall enough to reach her shoulders. The explorer's guild liked to lay claim to it, but it had been here long before there was even a guild to speak of. And in all the number of times she had come up here, she'd only encountered one other person, on a Tuesday no less. Not so today, the small eye-glass stayed in its customary place, in the battered leather case atop the rickety table set there. That was alright too. The quiet was good, tranquil, as opposed to brooding.

    Once again her thoughts wobbled back to the necromancer, flinched away. She didn't want to think of how much she had hurt him, but her mind kept wandering back that way anyway, like stray fingers picking at a scab, making it gradually worse. She didn't really know how to fix that problem. Maybe it never would...but she had to believe otherwise. Nobody could stay angry forever, could they?

    Well maybe Thepsis could.

    Bast shook her head, hair whipping out behind her like a party streamer. No, she wasn't here to dwell on troubling thoughts. She was here to savor the experience, to enjoy the feel of freedom, if only for a little while. Funny to think that by deciding to stay with someone, some part of her saw that as giving up total freedom...but what exactly had that been in the last few months anyway? A craving for attention, an aching heart and empty stomach, and weariness seemed like pretty crap companions when you got right down to it.
    She'd just have to learn to curb her need to move for a little while.

    In a way, it was almost liberating, a new chapter, a fresh page turned onto the unknown.

    Her lips twisted into a fiendish grin, and she used the momentum of her next step to bend and grasp the wall with her hands, tipping herself over.
    "I will hear ev'ry story, Tak' hold o' my own dream! Be as strong as the seas are stormy, an' proud as an eagle's scream!"

    "Oh my god someone's up there, on the edge! Don't move! Someone should do something!"

    She turned over neatly, feet skipping on the stone, a laugh burbling from her mouth, eyes twinkling. Perhaps it was the thrill of being so close to potential harm that she relished. Was that why she came up here really? Or...

    "Lady! Hold still, don't do anything rash!"

    The elemental dropped her eyes to a small group of people, growing apparently, pointing up at her. She frowned, fists planting themselves on her hips.
    "Th' feck are yeh lookin' at?"
    Puzzled, she leaned out further, could almost hear them biting their blighted tongues. It wasn't like she was gonna hurt herself, she'd done this a thousand times before. Bast straightened with the slightest shake of her head.
    "Bunch o' ninnies."
    She half turned her back on the view, blowing her cheeks out with a mind to get down and retrieve her sandals when she came face to face with the stranger. Coal-dark eyes widened in surprise, her arms windmilled wildly for a second as her balance shifted with the shock, felt her heels rocking...

    "Oh blisterin' shyte!"

    ...And threw her weight forward, pitching herself onto the newcomer and dragging them down with her into a tangled mess of limbs.
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    Dage Faro


    Madrid was nice. Possibly the nicest thing about Madrid was the aching familiarity of it all. Lurking under the eaves of the buildings that lined the street were echoes of Reine's architecture. The people. Those that looked native at least, were on the whole lighter of skin and hair, but they whispered the same prayers to the same myriad gods, took the names of the same mythic heroes in the same manner, and avoided the devotees of certain goddesses with the same feigned nonchalance.

    Dage had been in Madrid for a short time now and had, to her own mind, settled in nicely. She lodged in apartments in the baker's guild of Madrid reserved for visiting guild members, made daily visits to bakeries and breweries, sampling as much of the local merchandise as she could stomach. Dage Faro could stomach a lot. She rested a hand on her belly, feeling the turgid swell. Two pastries, half a loaf of something not unlike her grandmother's millet bread, and four half pints of different beers. Altogether not a bad start to the day. And she had all afternoon left.

    She inspected the list the guild registrar had drawn up for her of bakeries in this quarter of the city. Given how slowly (Dage liked to think of it as methodical) she made her way through the list, Dage wondered how long it would take her to do a proper sampling at each bakery and brewery in Madrid. And she wondered if her method was keeping her from the true purpose of her journey: the rest of the continent. The baked goods and beers she had sampled this far in Madrid were second to none, but they were all in the end, variations on a theme--a very tight theme. She liked the theme; it was comforting. But comfort did not an excellent baker make. She needed to try new things that divorced completely from what she understood as the ingredients for successful baking. There were other flavors out there, and she aimed to find them.

    The list suggested another bakery around this neighborhood, near the explorer's guild. As Dage walked down the street she decided either 1) it must be the most popular bakery in Madrid, or 2) something else was going on.

    Something else was going on.

    People didn't usually scream while waiting in line for a fresh cream torte or a basket of bran rolls. And they didn't usually yell things like "Lady! Hold still, don't do anything rash!" without there being a person who looked like she was about to do something rash.

    Among other Sotoans her height wasn't as much of an advantage as she assumed it would be somewhere people were shorter. She could just catch sight of someone cavorting along the edge of a tower. Who looked to be yelling to, but between the wind and the frenzied shouts from the crowd that now surrounded Dage on three sides, she couldn't make out what was said. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew one thing for certain and that was, if there was a way she could help, she would. Which meant getting up to the roof because shouting with the crowd around her wouldn't make a difference.

    There were a few things Dage's grandmother taught her that had nothing to do with baking or brewing. One of those things was this: up from a flood. It was part of a triad of instructions meant to safeguard in the event of a disaster (the other two being "down from a quake" and "out from a fire") and while Dage didn't know from much practical experience whether these were the best pieces of advice to follow in event of flood, quake, or fire, she did know that they were so deeply ingrained that she always found a way up, a way down, and a way out. All she had to do was look. And squeeze through the crowd. It wasn't easy, but Dage found her way up. She was breathing heavily by the top of it and thinking that with that exertion she had definitely earned another pasty and a pint of beer at least.

    It was windy up here, even more so than down below and Dage worried a gust would knock whoever it was over the edge. The woman seemed much less aware of the imminent danger facing her and only leaned further out.

    Dage didn't know what to do. She'd never done anything like this before. What was she even thinking, climbing the tower she was pretty sure she shouldn't have climbed of a building she was pretty sure she shouldn't have gotten on top of. It was kind of a blur, the journey between the ground and the tower and now as she was standing there, edging closer to the woman at the edge, she worried about this being the right thing to do. Save a life, good. Trespassing, bad. Did one outweigh the other? By the gods she'd have a lot of prayers and offerings to make later.

    She could feel her heart pounding. Could hear every crunch of her feet against the crumbling masonry of the tower. Assumed the other woman heard it to. Almost close enough to say something, Dage almost jumped when the woman turned. She didn't have time to realize how dark her eyes were, nor time to think at all, and soon enough, without knowing exactly how she got there, she found herself cushioning the other woman's fall, her own back seeming to find all the pokey uneven bits of masonry. Besides that, she wasn't sure which limbs she could and couldn't feel. Having someone else lying tangled on top of her was a new sensation.

    Dage heaved a breath and groaned. Her stomach didn't feel so good now. That couldn't be her elbow.
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    Bast
    Member Avatar
    'He shall be tormented with fire and brimstone.../And the smoke of their torment ascendeth up, for ever and ever;'

    ((Sorry this has taken me so long omg. Forcing oneself to write is prolly the only way to get past a block at this point.))



    "CRIVENS!"

    Bast levered herself up partially, her hands to either side of the woman's head, - rather than elbows in her earholes - which had just been nestled firmly between her jugs. A wry grin teased the edges of her mouth up, freckles crinkling as it bloomed into a full smile, wind dragging her hair up like a streamer this way and that. The stone was rough, pitted, sharp under her hands and she wriggled her way off her 'savior', rolled in an ungainly fashion off her and onto her arse instead, had to fish a small pointy stone from under the top of her leg with a wince.

    Dage was probably a damned sight worse than she was, lying there all pale faced and her eyes bulging with something like shock. Or maybe nausea. She looked a bit green about the gills.

    "I'm so sorry! I was just enjoyin' the view an' the wind an'- er...yer nae gonna...puke are ya?"
    Her first thought was to ask if she could watch, then remembered that people generally got upset when you asked about bodily functions. But it was something she couldn't exactly do, and that, by definition somehow rendered it fascinating. Not unless she wanted to melt a hole in the already dilapidated tower. That tended to happen when you were practically a furnace with legs. All stomach and no real organs.
    "Oh, ohhhh do it o'er the edge an' see how big o' a splatter ye can make!"

    She got to her feet, bouncing excitedly on her toes while she looked down at the woman with abundant glee, then crouched and offered her her hands.
    "Come on, I'll gi'e ye a hand up! Allyoop~"

    She didn't seem to notice the crumbly floor, nor the way the wind almost made it feel like the tower swayed and leaned that much more if you closed your eyes. It was a wonder they'd not torn it down already but these Sotoans...so full of national pride, had kept it here, clinging to it as some symbol of....something...something...

    Her head whirled with thoughts of everything and nothing as she skipped lightly enough to get her sandals, then ran back to the helpful-cushioning woman with them flying by the leather thongs from one bronze hand.
    "Didja check the view yet? Sorry again aboot th' whole floppin' on yer face thing. Tis a wee bitty windy up here the noo. Oh, I'm Bast, by the wa'. What d'ye call yersel'?"
    She busied herself with retying her sandals, lacing them up her calves with a practiced hand, tongue poking through her teeth as she diddled with the knots, every now and then her gaze flicking up to check the woman wasn't too pissed with her. A little bruised maybe...
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    Dage Faro


    How was it possible to feel ever single crack in the rooftop and every single pebble or twig or whatever else might accumulate on a rooftop. The other, whoever she was, reacted rather quickly. Hands came down beside Dage's ears, and a voice with a most peculiar accent said, quite clearly, "CRIVENS!" While not an exclamation Dage had ever heard before, she could well understand the sentiment in that moment. All she seemed capable of in response, however, was a strangled half-groan, spurned not by the sensation of having someone on top of her, but by the accompanying feeling that she was going to lose the contents of her stomach.

    Whoever the woman was, bouncing on toes and chattering away, she seemed altogether unlike a person intending to throw herself off the roof of a building. "I'm so sorry! I was just enjoyin' the view an' the wind an'- er...yer nae gonna...puke are ya?" Dage grimaced as the woman helped haul her to her feet. What warm hands.

    Her stomach churned, the contents sloshing around, buoyed by two pints of beer. If she shut her eyes she could imagine the shapes of the pastries and the lumps of bread dough floating around in there, hitting against the sides of her stomach when she moved. She stood still for a moment. The queasiness in her stomach didn't settle, so she took the other's advice and headed for the ledge separating the roof from the air (and much further beneath, the ground).

    The view did not help her stomach at all, so she shut her eyes and stepped back from the ledge. It seemed with her eyes shut she could imagine she was somewhere more solid and her stomach hadn't been jabbed with sharp limbs that both did and did not belong to her. Then a gust of wind swayed the tower beneath her feet. Dage grabbed the ledge and leaned over, expecting the expulsion of the contents of her stomach. When that didn't happen immediately, she gave it a few moments. It seemed that there were fewer people standing below the tower now that the woman who had been dancing on the edge had disappeared. That was just as well, Dage thought as she felt some acid rise into her mouth. She spat it out. Nothing followed.

    She leaned back from the edge and turned around, careful to take a few steps away from it to be safe. Safe wasn't something this tower was, now that she looked at it, at the surface she was standing on, weathered and cracked, and felt the tower sway again in another strong gust. It seemed nothing could sway the woman in front of her though, now holding sandals. "Didja check the view yet? Sorry again aboot th' whole floppin' on yer face thing. Tis a wee bitty windy up here the noo. Oh, I'm Bast, by the wa'. What d'ye call yersel'?"

    "I'm not much for views," Dage said. She rubbed at her stomach, which was feeling better but by no means settled. "I ate rather a lot this morning, and I don't want to lose it all, especially not--" she hesitated. "Especially not looking at what would otherwise be a pleasant view." She wondered if the view was why the other woman--Bast, as she had introduced herself--was up here. Why else would someone be up here, Dage wondered, unless that person did want launch themselves from what was, arguably, one of the tallest structures in the whole city?

    "Dage. I'm Dage." She watched Bast lace her sandals with deft fingers. What an altogether curious person. There was no one like her in the guild in Reine, nor Madrid, as far as Dage could tell. The Bakers' and Brewers' guilds seemed, somewhat surprisingly, to be filled with not very exciting people. Sometimes Dage wondered if that's what picking a trade and sticking to it for your whole life did to someone. She wondered if that was what had happened to her. Except now she was in Madrid, of all places, and maybe soon to Morrim or elsewhere. Travel was her bread now, even though her baker's heart wanted her to settle and build an oven somewhere.

    "What exactly were you doing up here? I thought you needed help." Dage hoped she didn't sound accusatory. Bast seemed perfectly cheerful, and unlikely to rush at the edge of the roof. "Everyone down there thought you were going to kill yourself. I--" Dage frowned. She didn't know what she was saying, really. She couldn't just say that she'd been raised to help anyone who needed help. It always ended up sounding like she was full of herself. "I'm just glad you weren't," she concluded.
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