Closed Thread
Page 2 of 6 FirstFirst 1 2 3 4 ... LastLast
Results 11 to 20 of 53

  Click here to go to the first Archeage Team post in this thread.   Thread: Official Tales of Erenor ENTRY THREAD

  1. #11
    Senior Member
    Join Date
    Jul 2016
    Near the mooses eh?

    Another number

    Who am I? What is my story? I once was a nobody, just another name and face amongst the many. A simple person, living a simple life, with simple plans. One such as I would spend their days roaming the Marianople streets, playing music to any who would listen. Other days I would find myself running packs for simple change to pay my dues. Days spent barely scraping the surface of what adventures awaited me in the future. And then I crossed paths with a hero.

    That hero stood up for the west, a continent greatly hindered by its lack of motivation, its lack of bravery, and its lack of gear. The people were complacent, sitting back farming and avoided the dangers of the outside world. But this hero opened my eyes to not only the dangers, but to the opportunity that could come alongside it. This hero showed me what it was like to stand up for what you believed in, to fight for a people who kept refusing to be helped, to have faith, and to also be respected. I strived to become just like this hero. And then I became a hero myself!

    I however did not see the consequences and burdens of being a hero, until it was too late to back down. The complacent west folk were greedy and corrupt. They would bribe heroes in exchange for their votes, and if you didn’t take their bribe and do as they said, they would then use that vote against you. The people constantly badgered the heroes with insults, needs, wants. They would harass and degrade your name. Everything you did was under careful watch, and one misunderstanding could lead to rumors that spread like wild fire.

    At first, one by one our heroes would disappear, I did not. One by one the very dangers we were fighting, the very dangers we tried so hard to protect our ungrateful nation from, appeared with familiar names and familiar faces. Our retired heroes! They had joined with the other side, the foes that constantly threated all west’s day to day lives! But why? Had they finally lost all hope in our nation? And then I received a letter. “Join us”.

    I spent a day in contemplation. What would my reasoning be for leaving? Did I feel like the west was no longer worth saving? Did I yearn for something more than being a punching bag for the crooked west? In fact, I did. After I had strived to become like my favorite hero, after I had seen how the west nation really was, I got a taste of what that danger was like on the front line. I knew there was a whole other world out there, I just had not grasped it yet. This was my chance, and be it a small one, I took it and fled the west. I became pirate.

    This was all new territory for me. I had never seen such a group as this first hand. They all worked together, protected each other, and would face everything head on! There was no giving up, there was no backing down, and the rush was real! A world I never knew existed, never thought could exist just paved its way for me. Had I wasted all my time on west when I could have had this all along? It was a refreshing change, a fast-paced change. And working alongside my fellow ex heroes made it all the better. I finally began to see that this was where I belonged all along! But there was now a new threat.

    Joining the pirates meant that they were no longer a threat to me, however, we had a bigger problem than ourselves. The east. They had grown in numbers before the pirates had come about, and had beat west into that submissive hole they were still currently stuck in. We went toe to toe with the east, but it was increasingly obvious we were currently no match. We had to regroup.

    Fellow pirates were disheartened with the decision, but we had no choice, our hands were tied. We did not waste our time however. We used our regrouping time to train ourselves better. I spent my time learning more and more about being a healer and how to best help our people during fights. I worked on improving my gear so that I was up to par with my fellow group. I was becoming a force to be reckoned with, as was our now growing group. We became so big, that we decided to then become a nation!

    But with our growing number of names and faces, I was a bit concerned with my place in our group. I had the constant fear that I could at any time be replaced by someone with better gear, with better skill. To not fall into being just another name and face, I used that as my drive to become even better at healing, to show I was needed, wanted, and not forgotten. I had a constant fear that pushed me to proving how I would give my all if it meant I could be a part of this world that saved and taught me that there is more than being a carpet for a nation to walk all over. That there was more than farming and pack running all day long, and that there were people who actually wanted to work together. I became more involved in daily conversations, I made more friends than just my fellow ex hero friends. And with becoming more familiar with the people I had surrounded myself with, the more I strived to continue proving I was worth keeping around. Despite our enemy’s taunts of “zerg” and “you’re just another number,” I am more than just a number. I am more than just another name, another face in the crowed.

    I am Famex.

    Character name: Famex
    Server: Aria
    12k Hiero/Sooth/Dreambreaker
    Omen Nation

    "I don't like the terms "good person" or "bad person" because it's impossible to be entirely good to everyone or entirely bad to everyone. To some, you are a good person, while to others, you are a bad person."
    -Armin (SNK)

  2. #12
    Junior Member Dynusty's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2015
    Legacy - Aria / Unchained - Jergant

    Dynusty to the heroine of the west

    Dynusty to the heroine of the west

    This is a story of a heroine who has already written her name in history, and who still has a lot to do to fill her legendary deeds.

    Dynusty had her hometown Enla, and as many adventurers traveled through various lands, she also pioneered this world from north to south from east to west, and knows all the mysteries the world has to offer.

    She had already led in battle, being chosen and recognized as the heroine of the west, her experience in battle was increasing as the years went by, and she dominated all the arts becoming Disciple of Orchidna.

    Nowadays she only wants to be recognized for her deeds, and like every hero, she wants her name to be remembered.

    In his adventures he was part of the pirate group and also made friends with his enemy faction, his feats called attention to participate in new civilizations in search of Glory.

    Her glories are going to defeat the Red Dragon, Kraken and even Leviathan legend, there is no challenge she has not overcome, but as she is a good adventurer will always break new ground, she recently heard rumors that new lands were discovered north of Reedwind and she is preparing to write new lines in her story.
    Attached Images

  3. #13
    Senior Member
    Join Date
    Aug 2014

    Leaves: Pages from Cinnabar's Journals
    Author: Cinnabar
    Server: Kadum

    1: Demon War

    I remember the streets of Ezna. I remember the houses falling in flames, the screams of raw terror, the rivulets of blood between the paving stones. I remember the people running blindly, hoping somehow to escape from us. These were no soldiers who had gone into battle knowing they might never return. They were innocents, defenseless; many were children.

    I remember the young mother on her knees before me as she cradled her dying child, the child I had just butchered. She looked up at me through her tears and uttered but a single word.


    And I regarded her without a shred of remorse, and did not reply. Then I grabbed her by the hair and slit her throat. She is a hundred years gone, yet I still see her clearly. Now, the scene is etched with sorrow and I shed tears of pity, but then -- back then I felt nothing. I knew I had power, frightening power. But there was no anger, no lust, no mercy, not even excitement. I moved as if in a dream, without volition, and I killed mechanically. It was what I was made to do.

    She is a hundred years gone, and still I cannot answer her question. I don't know why.

    2: Captivity

    I remember waking to the sound of the ocean, groggy in the remnants of a half-forgotten dream, seeing all the other Warborn looking as bewildered as I must have. I understood only that some part of me was gone; the thing that had driven me was silenced. Many years later I would learn the name of that thing: Akasch.

    Some Harani led us away and we followed like lost sheep into captivity, into slavery.

    3: Escape

    The day I left Sunbite was cloudless and hot, like any other. I scurried through the marketplace at Fleurstad, trying vainly to stay in the scant shade of the buildings. Rounding a corner, I nearly bowled over a Harani woman. But when I apologized profusely and began to bow before her, she held up a hand.

    “Please, it's not necessary to bow.” I was startled. “Where I come from, there are no slaves. But perhaps you would be good enough to carry these bundles to my cart? I will pay you for the work, of course.”

    I did as she asked; after all, she was Harani. But I was puzzled by the concept of being paid for this. When the cart was loaded and the driver had begun his slow journey with her goods, she offered me 20 gold coins, leaning in close as she did so.

    She spoke very quietly. “You are welcome to step through my portal to home. I own a concert hall in Rokhala Mountains and there is a performance today. Come and see it.”

    We slaves were not allowed to use portals, and for just an instant I wavered before jumping in and leaving my entire life behind. Dazed and disoriented, I came out the other side to a scene I could never even have imagined. A cool fresh breeze wafted music over a sparkling lake surrounded by tall pines. Beautifully appointed buildings and gardens lined the shore. And people of all races mingled freely, drinking and chatting, enjoying the music.

    I sank into the nearest chair, afraid my knees might buckle. That was when I saw her. She had human proportions with the ears and long tail of a cat, and she was covered in white fur.

    “What...what are you?” A few gasps and giggles around me told me that question was rude, but I was too unstrung to care.

    She merely smiled, exposing the points of her fangs, and bowed graciously. “I am a Firran. My ancestors were the original inhabitants of Haranya. I am called Snowberry.”

    Without her generous spirit, I would have been lost in this unfamiliar world. For the moment I saw what was out here, what all of my kind had been denied, I vowed never to return to Sunbite, though I had no idea how to live outside of slavery. Snow took me in and taught me everything, never scoffing at even the most naive questions.

    4: Obsession

    I've learned that my people existed before we became Warborn. But I recall nothing of that life. Who were we, and what befell us? I must know.

    As autumn deepened, so did my hunger for knowledge. I sought every available source, but found frustratingly little. What I did find gnawed at me until I began to lose sleep and forgot to eat.

    5: Windstone

    I am on my way to attend the Gweonid Lantern Festival, for only during the festival are the Elves open to talking with outsiders. Elves hold the key; I have heard the memorists know more of my people's history than anyone.

    When I told her I was leaving, Snowberry looked out at the rising moon for a long moment, then embraced me.

    “My dear friend, may you find what your heart truly seeks. And may the wind carry you back to me one day.”

    Riding through darkness, I held aloft her parting gift to me, a smooth stone with numerous holes piercing it. She called it a windstone, and told me it would sing in the wind, it would sing my soul. The melody was haunting, rootless and melancholy. And I had heard it before. But where? And when?

    6: Memory

    The memorist must have taken pity on me, for by then I was ragged and desperate. She agreed to share the secrets her people had teased out of ruins and bones.

    "You were called Nuons once; you were warriors unparalleled, dragon slayers." She swept a hand through an arc. "This city, Memoria, you built this hundreds of years ago. The statues around Gweonid Lake are all Nuon work, and the structures that stand in Karkasse Ridgelands."

    For days I wandered among stone walls, touching the carved ornamentation, trying to hear the echoes of lost ages. I gazed at the statues on the lakeshore for hours. They were proud, heroic, and they looked a little like us, with wings instead of horns.

    7: Dragons

    A red dragon flew leisurely loops in the distance. Why had we sought to exterminate such magnificent beings? For weeks now, I had traversed Karkasse, walking among half-fallen citadels, hoping to understand. And everywhere were the weathered bones. Misagon, the dragon-god, this was all that remained of him. In our arrogance, we had taken him down.

    Once, the dragon had been unimaginably strong; now the bones shouted helpless rage into my nerves. I wanted to know why we killed him, but the Elves wanted to know how. There was lust in the memorist's voice when she spoke of the power the Nuons possessed, power to destroy gods. The Elves thirsted for vengeance, for destruction. I heard a voice carried through ages, from the dark streets of Ezna.


    8: Windsong

    Night fell, cold and clear. I shivered as the wind flowing around the dragon ribs began to keen a song. It was slower, deeper, but unmistakably the melody in my windstone. Transfixed, I listened for an hour as a moon crawled up from the horizon, perfectly framed between the bones.

    My mind's eye saw Snow gaze at the moon, and I remembered her parting words, "May you find what your heart truly seeks." I understood then that she hadn't meant knowledge. She had meant equanimity, peace with the unknown.

    Pulling the windstone from my pocket, I held it up. But I had turned the other side to the wind, and the song was changed. It was rooted now, lighter and more free.

    In the morning, the wind will carry me back to her. The wind will carry me home.
    Mulberry ~ <Archangels> ~ Kadum East
    Moonstone ~ <Odyssey> ~ Kadum West
    Snowberry ~ Cinnabar ~ Kadum East

  4. #14
    Junior Member
    Join Date
    Mar 2017

    Moving Forward With the Time

    Long ago a group of three adventurous Nuians ventured into the wast lands of Erenor, to explore and to befriend. Young and naive the trio set to build a ship. And so they spent days and sleepless nights growing and gathering the materials that were required for it, occasionally begging for help from travellers on the side of the road since we didn’t have the funds to bargain with merchants. But we’d surely make our money if we manage to find some hidden treasures and artefacts.

    During one of the nights, still sleepy yet determined to get the ship built. A shadow appeared which we thought was a burglar trying to steal our crops, but we were wrong. From behind the bushes emerger two people who thought we were the thieves and would steal their crops. Turns out their plantation was right by ours but we had never noticed it, both sides confused yet apologetic for the misunderstanding. After setting the thief possibility aside we asked what are they working towards, lo and behold their goal was exactly like ours making us friends and uniting our groups to build a ship and venture on together.

    The time passes and we were finally ready, ready to construct and advance with our dreams. So we gathered our materials constricting them into packs at Windshade, as heavy as they were that wouldn't stop us. We had prepared our rowboats to set sail through the lower Lilyut river as it seemed to be the fastest path to Feuille Sound. Townspeople told us to be careful on our way and some that we should take a carriage instead, we didn’t know why that was the river marked on the map seemed peaceful enough so we didn't care much as we were so close to getting this done and just continued. We found out why we should have taken the carriage soon enough as we stumbled upon a waterfall which swiftly pulled us down scattering us across the bottom of the waterfall as we landed. Shaken but unharmed we emerged from the water getting back into our rowboats and burst into laughter that we couldn’t stop until we reached our destination. This, this was just the beginning of great adventures… or so we thought.

    We pulled out the blueprints for the adventurer’s clipper and began the construction… It was finally ready. Overjoyed and excited to begin our adventures we gathered our resources and set sail. The space on the clipper was quite cramped for five people yet we somehow made it work.

    We weren’t ready… we were so so unaware of what was waiting for us on the sea...

    The darkness of the storm enveloped us, water splashing aboard and pushing us off. We held for our lives and I prayed to Nui and Dahuta to save us. But worst was yet to come… A swarm of seabugs surrounded our ship and before we knew it the biggest one of them all launched itself onto us making the clipper swirl and slowly sink. We didn’t know much about combat and our weapons felt like twigs against the seabug’s thick shell, using mackerel as a weapon would have felt more effective than what we had. They were merciless creatures tearing our ship apart as the world turned dark. I thought I was dead…

    I could feel the light breeze brush over my face. I wasn’t dead? I slowly opened my eyes to be greeted by a pirate. “I see you’re awake, seems that Iji was by your side...To be carried to shore like this on some wrecked ship.” He said. I looked around, it was an unfamiliar island and none of my friends were around… they hadn’t survived. I expected to get killed any moment as I recognised that he was one of the infamous pirates, I could feel the toxicity oozing from him. But he didn’t, he offered me Nui’s Nova to get me up on my feet instead. And became a mentor and a dear friend of mine, he taught me anything that I needed to know about combat, treasures, trade and helped me get geared. However, I couldn’t make myself attack someone innocent yet I still wanted to help. So I learned to be a healer, spending countless hours sparring every day to be able to mend any wounds people dear to me would fill the feeling of uselessness.

    During these days he’d steal from merchants sometimes leaving them alive, in which cases I would sneakily return my share of the loot back to the rightful owner as it didn’t feel right in my heart. Yet I’d still participate in the blood-filled battles and aid the pirates with their often merciless battles.
    But the times changed, and my mentor turned over a new leaf and repent for his sins and bloodshed. I would still follow in his footsteps afraid to lose my way not daring to take my own steps. But the hateful and hurt people would not let it be, they wanted him executed for all his evil deeds. My life was spared, people who I had secretly saved and helped to stood up for me...But once again I lived while my friends died.

    I was forced to take my own steps, I would not give up… not yet. So I set out to learn more about the world we live in, meeting new people and witnessing the beauty of the places around us valuing its every detail. I gained lots of knowledge; from scattered journals, from spreading rumours, from Ayanad library and my own experiences. But as the time went on I could feel the loneliness creep upon me.

    It lead me to create my own guild, a guild that’s not made to just fight one another but one that would teach any new adventurers and a bit more experienced ones alike. Teach them the beauty of Erenor’s lands, its combat, the art of trade, the beauty of artistry, the secrets and to show all the different paths they can take be it good or bad, and finally to show them that adventures are much more fun together with friends. We explored many places and did many challenges, anything from just overloading our ships with goods and delivering them as a group, defeating the challenges of dungeons, to other silly things like fastropod races across the whole continent, underwater trade runs, glider smokescreen shows and simply relaxing by a campfire while listening to music. It was my home and people in it were like my family.

    Time kept passing and many adventurers parted their ways, some went back to their peaceful times at home, some went to pursue higher goals, others went to help the wars, and some just disappeared. The guild was slowly losing its members as less and less new adventurers would want to join.
    And as things got quieter I remembered the old times, the joys of combat… the freedom of a pirate.
    All I had to do was think...I met someone new yet familiar, someone who was similar to my mentor in their way with battles. And something clicked, a force just like being commanded by Kiryos to attack and destroy I joined the world of merciless battles with him, leaving my precious guild behind… leaving it to die out. I was corrupted. This time I didn’t last as long, getting pulled back by guilt and regret we parted our ways. Shattered thoughts were all that was left of me.

    Alone again as the time keeps ticking and slowly washing away the guilt. Making me try it all again, keep going forward...make a place where you’re loved just the way you are adn welcome any new people. As I’ve grown to love this world too much so I pray to all of the Gods...pray for everyone’s wellbeing be they good or bad, Nuian or Haranyan it matters not as Erenor wouldn’t be without them.

    Author: Azraela from Taris

  5. #15
    The Protector of Castaway Strait

    When I was young and the world fresh to my eyes, I made my living as a fisher. Those were simple days, sailing out to the open sea and throwing my line, waiting peacefully on my boat for a bite. I soon found myself in the company of fellow fishers. I enjoyed it. They had good stories and cheerful demeanors.

    One of their group was held in higher regard than the rest. He was the ever popular leader, the one with the quickest ideas and the strongest body. He liked to badger other groups of fishers, swimming around their boats and poking at them with his weapon. Those fishermen quickly began to avoid our group.

    Then he suggested we steal from those boats. I---along with the rest---agreed. We had lost much of our own fish to the Haranis. We needed to recoup our losses somehow. So we stole from Harani boats. Then we stole from Nuian vessels. And we were wildly successful. Fishermen began to fear our presence in their waters. Those were fun days. We ruled the sea!

    Soon, however, my companions grew bored. They sought other adventures on land, moving their homes to the wastes of Karkasse. I spent my fortune on a merchant ship and settled into a trade business in the port of Two Crowns. I soon grabbed a spot of land in the middle of Castaway Strait----a perfect warehouse location for my overseas goods! There, I met a hermit who had gone through great pains to claim the majority of the island as his property. However, he and I became instant friends, and he allowed me a place on his land. He was the island’s protector, driving off pirates and those who wanted to steal our land.

    I spent months on that island. I stored my wares on it. I watched other merchants pass by me as I looked out over the sea. I spent hours talking to my friend the hermit. It was my home. And it soon became my center of commerce. I built up my trading empire until I was conducting business with entire guilds, Nuian and Harani alike. Those were my best days. I loved my home and I loved my work.

    I still kept in contact with my old fishing friends. Many complained of being poor. My heart went out to them. I set up stations on the island for them to store their own wares. I taught them to conduct their own businesses, set them up with some of my own customers. I offered them a way to pull themselves out of their poverty. My hermit friend hated them. He disapproved of me offering them pieces of land on our somewhat private island. But I trusted my old friends. I disliked seeing them so downtrodden. I had to help.

    How I wish I had listened to the hermit.

    My old companions saw my success with merchants. They watched ship after ship dock at my port, and loads upon loads of cargo being hauled across the beach, trading hands and accumulating wealth beyond imagination. I know not if they were jealous, or simply bored. I believe they were longing for the old days. But the leader approached me and suggested that we rob the ships. That I lure them to the island and then my friends attack them. We would keep all of the loot. I objected. These merchants came to this island under trust that they wouldn’t be attacked. I ushered them in when the waters were clear, and made many deals with pirates to keep my customers safe. I wasn’t about to undo it all!

    They didn’t like that response. They grew resentful. And then, they began to take over the island. One house demolished here by a neglectful owner, another there. The hermit and I couldn’t claim all of the empty lands. It happened slowly, each member of their group building their own house in a vacated lot. They controlled half the island before we knew it. And then the flow of merchant ships to my port declined to a trickle. My customers didn’t trust these newcomers.

    And then it happened. One of the ships was attacked. I stopped trading. It was no longer safe for business. Even the hermit was driven off the island. It had become a hostile place. My old companions had returned to piracy. Having nothing else to do for money, I asked to join them. They scorned me, calling me weak. I could never live up to their ideal of a strong, ruthless pirate. They offered me a deal: if I could duel their strongest member and win, then I could join them. I naively accepted. I still had my weapons and armor, I thought. I had a chance. I expected my opponent to be the leader. He was without doubt the most challenging. The others weren’t so much. But instead, I was pitted against their most heavily armored. They had tricked me. I couldn’t touch someone in plate mail without magic on my side. I knew from the duel’s beginning that I would fail.

    And so they left, laughing at me. For weeks, I brooded. I had offered them a home, an income, a helping hand. How dare they scorn and shame me! I thought and thought and thought. I didn’t move on. I didn’t forget them. I was resentful. I was angry. I wanted revenge. I wanted my island back. I wanted to avenge my friend the hermit. He had lost his home as much as I.

    I still lived on the island, but it was no longer in comfort. I went there in secrecy, observing the pirates. They partied on their ill-gotten lands. They made their own alliances with powerful guilds. They spent their days lording it over that precious speck of land I had once cherished.

    I wanted blood.

    I began to compete in the Two Crowns arenas. Quickly, I realized I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t a terrible fighter. I was simply missing the right equipment. I won the prizes. I obtained better equipment. I grew stronger. Then I returned to the island when it was empty. And I waited.

    I killed the first betrayer when he came out of his home. He never saw it coming.

    The next one went down just as easily.

    Word quickly spread within their ranks that there were attacks on the island. They knew it was me. They began to congregate so that I couldn’t so easily pick them off one by one. They would call out to the shadows that they knew I was there, that I was still just as weak as they had known me before, that I could never defeat all of them.

    I ended another only a short distance from their group, and darted away. They scrambled to find me, but I was too quick. I climbed to the highest point on the island and peered over the edge, watching them scurry like ants, trying desperately to discover my hiding place. What fools.

    I repeated this night after night. Their ranks slowly dwindled. They continued to call out to the shadows, but their derision had turned to apprehension. Panic had spread through them. I heard the leader, the one they had all looked up to so adoringly, berating them for being so weak as to be tricked and defeated by me. I had eliminated all but their leader and officers when they finally decided to abandon the island.

    At last, I was victorious. The island was peaceful once more. I became its new protector. I welcomed budding traders and killed aggressors, taking others under my wing just as the hermit had done for me long ago. Never again will anyone take my home away from me.

    Melisara guide my blade. Nui guide my enemies.

    Author: Lyvectra
    Server: Kadum, North America
    Based on a true story
    Link, if needed:
    IGN: Lyvectra
    Server: Inoch Hanure Thunderwing Kadum

  6. #16
    A stonecold surprise

    After exploring and adventuring for hours on end, going places I would not have visited otherwise, I finally found and assembled it: the Searing Dragon Heart! I had always heard rumors of it existing out there in the world, but never would I have expected to stumble upon it while rummaging through the ancient corpses of dragons in the Karkasse Ridgelands.

    The heart guided me to a cliff looking over Iona, where I found its rightful owner: Niskro. A petrified Wyrmkin, with a gaping hole where its heart should be. Around him lay other Sleeping Wyrmkin, in a similar state to Niskro, yet with an intact body. As I gazed upon this scene, I knew that a challenge lay ahead. Without a second thought, I called upon my guild members for assistance. Only our guild leader, Rayzha, was up to brave the dangers with me, the rest were busy doing their farming tasks. We decided to meet up at Lavis and headed south to the cliffs.

    I knew for a fact that I was weaker than Rayzha. He had been adventuring the worlds of Erenor for far longer than me. His weapon and gear were battle-scarred but still looked strong. Me on the other hand, I had a mix of all sorts of weird equipment. My adventuring days had only just begun, but I already decided to face such a difficult challenge, even though I was not equipped with the right gear yet. I was fine with it however, I was in it for the thrill and excitement.

    We prepared ourselves to place the Heart back into Niskro’s body. As we let the magic flow through ourselves, used magic tomes, potions and blessings to be at our strongest, and equipped everything needed, I walked forward and placed the Searing Dragon Heart in Niskro’s body.

    The air started rumbling. The ground shook with a heavy impact. Cracking sounds filled the air, and large fissures started to appear in the stone skin of Niskro’s body. At the same time, the Sleeping Wyrmkin around us rose up and emitted a low growl towards us.

    “Be careful Ethy!” Rayzha yelled at me, “They are about to attack.”

    I raised my guard and prepared a spell in my hand. The Wyrmkin far outnumbered us, not even considering Niskro himself. I knew we had to defeat these minions first, otherwise we would just get distracted and might even be in danger while facing the boss.

    As the Wyrmkin pounced towards us I loosened a Freezing Arrow towards the fastest of the group. Rayzha had a similar idea and shot his arrows towards all of the enemies. As soon as the first one was struck, the rest of them started howling even fiercer, and a bloodthirsty vibe filled the air around us. I shot a glance at Niskro’s body, that was still changing color from stone to hardened scales. We had to hurry up.

    “Use your Volley, Ray!” I yelled.

    Understanding my intentions, Rayzha grabbed a lot of arrows in hand, and unleashed a flurry of arrows towards the group. With his high end equipment, dealing with these small fry minions was easier than expected.


    Seeing the group of Wyrmkin approaching through the storm of arrows, I decided to help out. I used Tiger Strike and leapt into their midst, unleashing Freezing Earth right after, followed by a simple Whirlwind Slash. This kept them at bay long enough for Rayzha to finish them off.


    We finished them off just in time. Niskro’s body, that was petrified at first, was completely free now. As he stretched his stiff muscles, he let out a deafening roar. As he saw us finish off the last of his minions, his eyes became bloodshot. But he hadn’t lost his rationality yet. He did not rush toward us, but instead chose a different approach. It was clear that he was not of a simple mind, possessing intelligence at a similar level to humans, or Warborn and Harani in our case.


    With a growl, spoken in a language that I could not understand, an effect started to take place on Niskro’s body. His muscles became steel colored, and clearly swelled in size.

    “This must be some kind of defensive ability. We have to take care and not let him get too close to us, we can’t penetrate his skin.” Rayzha said, “But maybe your magic can help us out.”

    I thought he had a point, so I stood still and casted a Magic Circle to get a better feel of the magic in the air. As I started casting another set of spells, Niskro charged ahead. Seeing my defenseless state, Rayzha grabbed his bow and unleashed a Charged Bolt to grab the attention.

    “Over here, you dummy!” he yelled.

    Clearly agitated by this provocation, Rayzha succeeded in taking over the aggro. Niskro changed his course and headed straight to him. Even though it did not provide much damage, it still took the attention off of me. I saw how he jumped up and leapt straight to Rayzha’s side with an Overwhelm. At that time I just finished casting my first spell.

    “Take this, Arc Lightning!”

    A thunderbolt shot from my finger tips and headed straight for Niskro. I followed it up with a Chain Lightning and some Flamebolts, as I saw my first spell hitting the back of the big guy. As he cried out in pain, and turned his head to me, my other spells hit him square in the face. Angrily, Niskro roared, and grabbed his big head. As he prepared to leap to me, his skin that gave off a metallic luster before, turned back to its original color.

    “Your turn, Ray!” I shouted.

    Not needing my shout, Rayzha had already begun unleashing his bowman skills. As I watched in awe how all these arrows shot out from that bow of his, I had let down my guard. Niskro took the chance and leapt to my side. Even though he was being injured heavily, he still took the opportunity to inflict heavy damage to me.

    As I got hit by the claw attack of the gigantic Wyrmkin, I felt the blood gushing out. My injuries were heavy, and I knew I couldn’t hang on much anymore in this battle. That’s the difference between high class and low class adventurers, I grimaced.

    I leapt back to avoid getting more wounds on my body, and shot out some Mana Stars while retreating to Rayzha’s side.

    “I’ll stay in the backline for the rest of the fight, ” I said pitifully, “I don’t think I can survive much longer on the frontlines with this equipment.”

    Laughing, Rayzha agreed with me, and sprinted forward. We had already done a good amount of damage to Niskro, and it was time to deal the latest blows. As Rayzha brought the attention of Niskro to himself again, I kept using Mana Stars to inflict any additional damage possible. Rayzha kept kiting backwards while shooting Endless Arrows. Nui only knows where he gets them from.
    Niskro didn’t let himself get beaten so easily though. He used a Lasso to grab Rayzha and pull him back in, but Rayzha didn’t let that happen so easily. As he Dropped Back out of the claws of Niskro, he continued firing Endless Arrows, mixed with some more heavy hitting Blazing Arrows and Toxic Arrows.

    As more and more attacks hit his body, Niskro got weaker and weaker. He managed to get close enough to deal more damage to Rayzha, but he could endure through it thanks to his strong resistances build into his armor.

    In a desperate last attack, unleashed a Howl of Terror, followed by an Enraged Blow. Though the frightful effect of the howl did work, the Enraged Blow was not enough to deal deadly damage to Rayzha. Coughing up a mouthful of blood and focusing himself through the fear, he managed to land the final attack on the monster.

    As he fell, Niskro had a look of madness in his eyes. I knew that he was going to return someday, in one form or another, to haunt others who awake him at this cliff side.

    “What did we get?” I asked full of curiosity. The spoils of war are always the most exciting thing after defeating a tough enemy. Anything was fine, a broken fang, a sharpened claw, a some of the skin or scales would do too.

    “Well, there is this Jester’s Coin purse here.” Rayzha said after looting the body.

    “That’s all we’ve worked for!?” I yelled in frustration.

    Disappointed I took the loot from the body. This purse wasn’t even that heavy, but at least it was something. I should not have expected too much from a just awoken petrified corpse.

    That day, I learned that adventuring doesn’t always bring the riches that one hopes for, but it could still create a story to tell.

    Author: Ethylind
    Server: (Retribution) Jakar, Europe
    Based on a true story

  7. #17
    Junior Member Ellarya's Avatar
    Join Date
    Aug 2016
    Advent of Change
    Author: Wrinn
    Server: Aria

    I come from humble means.

    I don’t mean that as something terrible, but a person should always remember where they come from, and my beginnings were humble. I lived in a cozy thatched farmhouse near Riverspan in Lilyut Hills. I farmed grain and produce; occasionally gathered flowers of the edible varieties; I took larders of aged cheese, honey, and salve through the dangers of Cinderstone Moor for trade.

    Times were simpler then.

    For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a warrior of worth and valor; someone looked to for aid; someone worthy of family and friends. I spent every copper I could on armor and weapons, training myself in the hours that I was not out making more money to spend arming myself. It seemed as though it was all for naught, however. Nuians are weary of battle; they are content to sit in their homes, making meager trade deals in Solzreed Peninsula… to never be more than what they already are.

    Eventually, I moved my home to Ahnimar, hoping to improve myself more through the treacherous areas of Hellswamp and Halcyona in order to make more gold; arm myself more keenly; and make a better life for myself. That was when terror struck.

    They called themselves Omen, and they were indeed an omen. To most, they were terrible pirates, pillaging everything in sight. No one was safe. I had learned in my long years that omens are not necessarily bad things, and so I was more curious than wary.

    Omen terrorized the continents of Nuia and Haranya for months, taking pleasure in remaining hidden underwater in order to mass board trade ships en route; during Abyssal Attacks, they were to be found on Whirlpool Isle, an entire fleet of merchant schooners at the ready, loaded down with crystal packs that would net them a tidy sum; if the Red Dragon of Karkasse Ridgelands appeared, they were surely there, fighting off tiny waves of those Nuians and Haranyans who refused to stand down, all while slaying the dragon as the hero in a fairytale would.

    And suddenly they were gone. They disappeared so swiftly, but peace did not return to the realm. The Haranyans rose up against the West, quelling any chance of rebellion as they took Omen’s place. The battles were horrific with mass casualties on the Nuian side; Nuians, dwarves, elves, all slaughtered in the name of Haranya’s glory. Where once we might have had a tentative truce to rail against Omen, those bonds no longer existed. The West was dying.

    Months passed, morale sunk into an abyss from which it never re-emerged. I kept training, kept trading. I would not succumb to the weakness of my countrymen. I refused, out of sheer determination--or perhaps stubborness--in order to better myself.

    Omen returned in a flurry of misdirection and well-earned bravado, their numbers slightly less, but their might no less terrifying. The West cowered further into their hovels, but I rejoiced. Gone were the days of Haranya taking everything from us. They would have a true battle now.

    To my utter shock and horror, not only had Omen returned, but they were recruiting. My friend, the mighty Bop, had orchestrated our admission into the band of pirates: a means to escape the drudgery of Nuian complacency. As much as I wanted to better myself, I was terrified of such a large change. Omen was comprised of Nuians and Haranyans alike, those put off by their own faction’s ineptitudes. They were thought to rule with an iron fist; with toxic attitudes; and the ability to crush a tiny Nuian’s spirits in a single blow.

    I didn’t want to lose the small family I had, though. Bop had always been my true friend, and so I became a pirate with him, and I labelled myself Omen. Terror that first night was a very real emotion, but as the days passed and I became familiar with individuals, I relaxed into my new life of piracy. I sat underwater to mass board trade ships en route; my merchant schooner was one of the fleet moored at Whirlpool Isle, carrying precious cargo during the Abyssal Attack; when I needed help, I had but to call out for my comrades, and a flood of former Nuians and Haranyans emerged ready to fight for me. This was Omen.

    Try as we might, though, we could not beat back the tide of Haranyans that had come under the banner of Green Card. Though we retreated, we did not call it a loss. Instead, we took the time to regroup and learn from our mistakes, hidden away with so-called friends. That peace was not meant to last either, and we struck out on our own once again, returning to life as pirates and thieves.

    Eventually our leaders, Devil the Great, Kaijju the Noble, Buh the Silent, and the Formidable Susanoo, set their sights higher. No longer content to be mere pirates, relegated to the seas lest we be sent to jail, they decided to make a nation on Auroria. Fierce battles took place between Omen and the established nation of Latinus, as well as their reinforcements from Barcode.

    We took Marcala castle from them first, and established our homebase there, in the wilds, with giant scorpions and ants, knowing full well that Calmlands, Sungold Fields, and Heedmar were not safe from us either. Nuimari, Devil reasoned, could be left to Latinus as a consolation and token of our benevolence. That, however, was not to be. The ruler of Latinus deferred to the lord of Barcode in such matters as peace and sieges, and so, when it was proclaimed that all agreements were off the table, we struck, and took Nuimari from them as well.

    Exeloch was left with the West. The owner, now known as Robert the Betrayer to the denizens of Nuia, orchestrated an alliance with Omen in order to fight the cruel tyranny of Latinus. As the Nuians slowly turned on him, he and his turned their backs on the West, and we happily welcomed them into the fold as we built our nation.

    To cope with the sudden influx of citizens, more leadership was required. Hashi the Destructive and Pariah the Incinerator stepped forward to fill the void, proving repeatedly that Devil the Great’s faith in them was not misplaced. From settling petty squabbles to leading the charge against the Westerners we had once tried to help, Omen’s leaders have sacrificed a great deal for so little appreciation.

    As with any new nation, of course, there were growing pains. Some were unaccustomed to the rigorous schedule, while others had to learn to fight. What we all learned in the process was the necessity of patience.

    It wasn’t always smooth sailing, obviously. Nuians continued their attempts to beat us back, claiming victory where we gained amusement at their failures. Those who led that charge eventually lost faith and turned to piracy themselves, hoping their failings would be less noticeable amongst a group of experienced fighters. They were very wrong.

    None of that mattered in the grand scheme of things. Omen could never be beaten back by pettiness and greed. Omen refuses to cater to such whims. We have never cared about who has the best armor or weapons, or even who is the best fighter. Everyone is the same, equal, worthy of respect and aid.

    These notions have allowed us to keep a clear head and high morale in the face of near-impossible odds. Whether you wield swords or magic, bow or club, Omen will always show up to fight for our nation, possibly with Cbl the Slayer cackling loud enough to be heard in all corners of Erenor.

    I often wonder if one of those who have joined us since, has found the camaraderie and friendship that I have.

    I wonder if there is a person here among us who was baffled by the outpouring of support the first time they called for help, and a band of former pirates came from far and wide to fight for them.

    I wonder if they, like me, have found a home they did not expect, and a family in those they once feared.
    Throwing toothpicks at enemies since launch
    Omen Nation

  8. #18
    Junior Member Nimiel's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2018
    On the backside of the moon

    Die Abenteuer eine Elfe

    Mein Name ist Nimiel Banalashalan, ich bin eine Jägerin und Abenteurerin aus dem Gweonidwald und möchte von den Dingen berichtet die ich auf meinen Reisen durch Erenor erlebt habe....

    Eine Handelsfahrt ist lustig... oder auch nicht
    Ich erinnere mich noch an meine erste Reise mit dem Schiff, ich brachte Tonkrüge mit gewürztem Hackfleisch von Tiefensand nach Schlackenmoor. Es war eine riskante Unternehmung diese Lieferung direkt in ein Kriegsgebiet zu fahren, doch ich wusste das mein Schiff die "Anarras Rache" schon irgendwie durchkommen würde...
    Es war alles wie immer... eigentlich, bis auf einen kleinen Zwischenfall. Mein Schiff stieß auf etwas hartes. Vor Schreck drehte ich mich um und sah einen toten Hai auf dem Wasser treiben. ich hatte einen Hai überfahren, wer hätte gedacht daß sowas passieren würde.
    Ich dachte mir nichts weiter dabei, als ich meinen Weg fortsetzte doch kurz vor dem Hafen krachte eine Kanonenkugel in den Rumpf meines Schiffes. Ich zog meine Schwerter und erwartete Piraten oder Haranyi, doch es kam viel schlimmer. Ein zweiter Schuss versenkte mein Boot und ich schwamm so schnell ich konnte davon, denn ich war allein und der Feind ganz klar in der Überzahl. Zu meinem Schrecken musste ich mit ansehen wie Männer welche die Farben der Nuia-Allianz trugen meine wertvolle... nein, meine kaum wertvolle Fracht plünderten.... Und das alles nur für ein paar Krüge mit Hackfleisch. Eines Tages werden sie das büßen...
    Und so rette ich mich an den Strand

    So ein Käse
    Nach diesem Rückschlag suchte ich einen anderen Weg an Gold zu gelangen... Zu meinem Glück besitze ich ein kleines Gehöft auf dem einige Käsereien stehen. Ich belud meinen Esel mit so viel Käse wie er nur tragen konnte und machte mich auf dem Weg nach Stolzfried.
    Das war wahrlich ein Abenteuer für sich, ich hatte dein Eindruck alle waren hinter meinem Käse her. Zuerst ein erfolgloser Hinterhalt einiger hisiger Banditen und dann griffen mich sogar die Dahuta-Kultisten an... es war ein leichter sie abzuwehren. Aber dann brach die Nacht herein. Im Nachhinein hätte ich mich besser nicht erst am Abend auf den Weg gemacht... Wie dem auch sei. Ich war soeben dabei eine Brücke über einen kleinen Bach zu überqueren als mich ein Zauber aus dem Sattel warf, ich konnte meinen Esel nur schwer beruhigen, da stürmte ein kopfloser Reiter auf mich zu. Für jemanden ohne Kopf schien er ziemlich gut mit dem Schwert umgehen zu können. Ich vermute daß er eine Art Geist sein muss, wie sonst sollte so ein Wesen ohne Kopf und ohne Augen sein Ziel sehen können? Trotz allem war es mir ein leichtes diesen Feind zu Fall zu bringen und meine kostbare Käselieferung sicher zum Händler zu bringen, schon bald würde ich genug Gold haben um mir ein neues Schiff zu kaufen

    Schwimmende Festung
    Es hat viel Zeit, Mühe und vor allem Gold gekostet aber nun bin ich stolze Kapitänin eines echten Kriegsschiffes. Zwei Masten, ein robuster Rumpf, und fünft mächtige Kanonen je Seite. Ich taufte es auf den Namen "Lindorm". Kaum daß ich mein neues Schiff zu Wasser ließ kam ein alter Mann auf mich zu und begann mich mit seinem Seemannsgarn einzuspinnen. Er erzählte irgendetwas über den Leviathan und daß keiner ihm glaubte obwohl er ihn mit eigenen Augen gesehen habe...
    Er versprach mir eine Belohnung, sollte ich beweisen können daß dieses Wesen tatsächlich existiert. Ich habe es nicht wegen der Belohnung getan, sondern eher aus Neugier.... gut ich gebe es zu, ich wollte auch sehen welchen Schaden meine Kanonen ausrichten...
    Ich bat einige andere Abenteuer welche ich auf meinen Reisen kennengelernt habe, mich auf der Suche nach dem Leviathan zu begleiten. Zu meinem Glück nahmen sie an....

    Auf hoher See
    Nun verstehe ich was der Schiffsbaumeister meinte als er "Schwimmende Festung" sagte. So mächtig wie es was, so langsam war die Lindorm auch. Wir wussten nicht wohin wir segelten, noch wie lange es dauern würde bis wir den Leviathan gefunden hatten und so begannen wir uns die Zeit zu vertreiben. Ich spielte auf meiner Flöte, wir redeten über Belanglosigkeiten und begannen schließlich mit den Kanonen auf Meerasseln zu schießen. Plötzlich ertönte der Ruf "Geisterschiff, Steuerbord!"
    Und unglücklicherweise erschien tatsächlich eines. Es war das erste Geisterschiff das ich je gesehen hatte. Was sollten wir tun? Entern?.... Ich musste schnell entschieden, denn die ersten Schüsse rissen schon Löcher in die prächtigen violetten Segel der Lindorm. Ich rief einer Kameradin zu, sie solle das Steuer übernehmen und das Schiff gen Osten steuern, der Rest machte sich kampfbereit...
    Geister, Untote egal, ihr Schiff schien nicht so viele Kanonenkugel zu vertragen wie ich zuerst dachte. Die Stahlkugeln durchlöcherten den Rumpf, die Kettenkugeln zerstörten Mast und Segel. Ein normales Schiff wäre schon längst gesunken, aber immerhin wurde es langsamer. Zum Schluss ertönte nur noch die große Haubitze, die Kanone mit der größten Reichweite. Das Geisterschiff was verschwunden. Aber wo waren wir? Ich sah durch mein Fernrohr und erspähte erst Wasser, dann nochmehr Wasser.... und dann ein Schiffswrack. Wir durchsuchten dieses und fanden im Logbuch des Kapitäns tatsächlich Hinweise auf den Leviathan und ich kann nur sagen, welch ein Glück daß wir ihm NICHT begegnet sind...
    Wie dem auch sei, wir nahmen Kurs auf die Insel Freinich um unsere Vorräte aufzustocken und kehrten Nach Nuia zurück...


    Auroria, verlorene Heimat.... ich kannte nur eine Heimat, den Gweonidwald in dem ich aufwuchs und meine Hütte in den Lilyuthügeln. Warum die Nuia danach streben dieses Land zurück zuerobern ist mir ein Rätsel. Nun gut, das Archeum dort ist ein machtvoller Quell der Magie, aber ist das alles einen blutigen Krieg wert?...
    Ich parirte den Axthieb eines gehörnten Mannes, eines Kriegsgeborenen. Halb Nuon, halb Dämon wie ich hörte. Ich wünschte ich könnte ihre Sprache verstehen...
    Ein heller Blitz und zwei Schwertstreiche später fiel der große Mann tot zu Boden. Immer diese Gewalt, aber manche wollen es nicht anders. Als hätte wir hier auf Auroria nicht schon genug Probleme mit wahnsinnigen Zwergen, Untoten und Kyrioskultisten welche den Außenposten Nuias belagerten. Nein, unsere "Nachbarn" aus Haranya müssen sich mit uns blutige Schlachten liefern, nur weil jede Seite behauptet das Land auf dem Delphinad einst stand zuerst besetzt zu haben. Was ist Delphinad für diese Menschen? Die Stadt liegt in Trümmern, die große Bibliothek ist alles was davon noch übrig ist. Das Wissen und die Artefakte darin mögen wertvoll sein, doch die Monster darin machen es schwer an diese zu gelangen. Wenn wir unseren Zwist beilegen würden, könnten wir uns die Schätze teilen....

    Die Hunde von Kyrios
    Ist es denn nie genug? Ich habe zahllose Untote, Fleischgolems, Nekromanten, und sogar Geister erschlagen und soll mich trotzdem noch beweisen eh ich der Purpurwache beitreten darf. Nun soll ich auch noch als letzte Aufnahmeprüfung die Seelensteine eines Hundes von Kyrios beschaffen. Mein Weg führte mich zurück ins Schlackenmoor wo ich zuerst garnicht wusste wie ich diesen "Hund" finden sollte. Zu meinem Glück traf ich auf einen anderen Abenteurer, welcher mir erzählte eine Armee von Untote würde bald hier auftauchen, angeführt von den Hunden von Kyrios....
    Zugegeben, ich war beeindruck von dem Heer welches sich um den Abgrundriss sammelte. Elfen, Menschen und sogar einige Zwerge.
    Zuerst dachte ich, wir sein in der Übermacht doch es strömten immer mehr Untote aus dem Riss. Zuerst übernahm ich die Kontrolle über ein Katapult um möglichst viel Schaden zu verursachen und gleichzeitig das Schlachtfeld besser überblicken zu können, doch schon bald wurde ich in den Nahkampf gezwungen. Die Flut der Feinde verebbte allmählich und als sich der Riss schloss sprangen zwei riesige Krieger in prächtiger Rüstung hervor, das mussten sie sein...
    Einer schoss etwas auf mein Katapult, ich sprang in Deckung doch das Katapult war zerstört. ich entschied mich diesmal den Bogen zu verwenden und....
    Nun wir beschossen diese zwei Hünen und hiebten auf sie ein, dem letzten schlug ich den Kopf ab und begann sie näher zu untersuchen.
    Er hatte keinen einzigen Seelenstein. Wie konnte das sein? Ein Magier dessen Robe schon in fetzen hing erzählte mir dies seien Abgrundschützen gewesen.
    Ich riss meine Augen weit auf.... "Aber die Hunde von Kyrios" stammelte ich. Der Magier erzählte mir ein anderer habe viele von ihnen gefällt und würden sie sich nurnoch selten zeigen. All die Mühe, nur um zu erfahren daß ich meine Beute erst hevorlocken müsste, doch niemand wüsste wie. Noch ob sie überhaupt kommen würden.
    So entschied ich mich für einen anderen Pfad. Die Purpurwache würd mich nicht aufnehmen und so verdinge ich mich als Söldnerin und suche weiter nach vergessenen Geheimnissen. Vielleicht werde ich eines Tages Wissen über die Akasch erlangen, und vielleicht auch einen Weg finden Kyrios aufzuhalten.... Doch von nun an gehe ich meinen eigenen Weg...

    Autor: Nimiel
    Server: Taris (vorher Eanna)

  9. #19
    Junior Member
    Join Date
    Jan 2017
    Germany/Bavaria/near Bad Kissingen



    Es regnete. Die Tropfen auf den Rüstungen lebloser Körper erzeugten unterschiedliche metallische Klänge, die sich mit stärker werdendem Regen zu einer Kakophonie des Grauens entwickelten. Blutüberströmt und schwer atmend, erhob sich der zwei Meter große Kriegsgeborene um sich ein Bild von der Schlacht zu machen. Eine tiefe Wunde klaffte an seinem linken Oberarm, dessen Armschoner zerfetzt waren. Er fühlte, dass mehrere Rippen gebrochen waren und auch seine rechte Schulter schien in Mitleidenschaft gezogen worden zu sein, doch er empfand keinen Schmerz. Hierfür hatte er Jahre lang trainiert. Hierfür hatte er gelitten. Hierfür war er geboren.

    Keuchend blickte er um sich und sah, dass er sich immer noch auf dem Schlachtfeld der Marcala-Ebene befand. In einiger Entfernung zu seiner rechten sah er den brennenden Wald, aus dem Rauch aufstieg. Das Feldlager befand sich etwa eine Meile entfernt hinter ihm Norden. Oder doch Süden? Er hatte Zeitgefühl und Orientierung während der Schlacht verloren.

    Hatten sie gewonnen oder verloren? Als er seinen Blick über unzählige gefallene Soldaten und zerstörtes Kriegsmaterial wandern ließ, wurde ihm klar, dass es an diesem Tag nur Verlierer gegeben hatte. Krieg bedeutete immer zu verlieren.

    Anders als viele der Toten um ihn herum, hatte ihn sein dämonisches Blut vor Schlimmeren bewahrt. In wenigen Stunden würde er wieder vollständig genesen sein, mit Hilfe der Heiler in seinem Lager vermutlich sogar noch schneller. Und dann würde er weiter kämpfen, weiter töten.

    Auch wenn der Dämon in ihm, der sich an Tod und Zerstörung labte, es kaum erwarten konnte, seine unbändige Wut zu entladen, so sehnte sich seine menschliche Seele nach Frieden. Sie war des Kämpfens schon vor langer Zeit überdrüssig geworden.

    Während er sich gedankenversunken in Richtung Lager bewegte, sah er plötzlich einen Schatten in seinem rechten Augenwinkel. Instinktiv riss er sein Schwert nach oben und schaffte es gerade noch einen mit arkaner Magie aufgeladenen Bolzen zur Seite zu schlagen. Blitzschnell und ohne groß nachzudenken, nutzte der Krieger seinen Kriegssprung, den er sonst verwendete um hinter die feindlichen Linien zu gelangen und dort für Chaos zu sorgen, um einen gewaltigen Satz in die Richtung aus der der Schuss gekommen war zu machen.

    Jetzt galt es schnell zu sein und den Scharfschützen zu erwischen, bevor dieser entkommen konnte. Und dann sah er ihn. Es handelte sich bei dem Schützen um einen drahtig wirkenden, relativ kleinen Elfen – wahrscheinlich einen Späher, der die Schlacht überwacht hatte. Kein echter Gegner für einen erfahrenen Krieger wie ihn. Lediglich ein armseliges Opfer. Ein bösartiges Lächeln umspielte seine Lippen und er fühlte wie sein höllisches Blut zu kochen begann. Der Dämon hatte wieder die Kontrolle übernommen.

    Im Sprung kanalisierte der Kriegsgeborene seine Kräfte und bereitete sich auf einen Sturmangriff vor. Etwa 7 Meter vor dem Schützen landete er auf dem Boden zwischen einigen toten Zwergenkriegern, von denen zwei in ihrer mechanischen Rüstung verbrannt waren. Blitzschnell stürmte er mit gezogenem Schwert in Richtung des Elfen und wollte diesen aufspießen, doch dieser hatte mit der Attacke gerechnet und machte einen Salto zur Seite, so dass 300 Pfund Muskeln und Stahl ins Leere stürmten.

    Der Kriegsgeborene heulte vor Schmerz auf, als sich einige Pfeile der ersten Salve durch das schwarze Obsidian seines Plattenpanzers in seinen Rücken bohrten. Dieser Elf war kampferfahren, kein einfacher Späher. In einem länger andauernden Kampf würde er aufgrund seiner Verletzungen keine Chance haben. Er musste also improvisieren.

    Einer der Zwerge hatte ein Schild, welches er an sich nahm und mit dem er dank seiner Ausbildung in der Lage war, das auf ihn nun einprasselnde Dauerfeuer einigermaßen abzuwehren. Lange würde er diese künstlich geschaffene Schanze aber nicht aufrecht erhalten können, aber zumindest konnte er sich so dem Elfen langsam aber sicher annähern. Auch wenn er es nicht schaffte alle Pfeile abzuwehren und sein Panzer von vielen durchdrungen wurde, so konnte er die Distanz von sich zu dem Schützen mehr und mehr verringern.

    Jetzt habe ich dich! Mit diesem Gedanken fokussierte sich der Kriegsgeborene auf den Elfen und es formte sich aus dem Nichts ein Energieseil, welches den verdutzten Elfen ergriff und in Richtung des Kriegsgeborenen zog.

    Damit hatte er offenbar nicht gerechnet und er verharrte eine Sekunde in Schreckstarre. Diese Sekunde reichte dem starken Kämpfer, um dem Elfen mit aller Wucht das Schild in die Rippen zu rammen. Man hörte ein leichtes Knacken und einen gellenden Schrei, der aber schnell in ein Keuchen überging. Der Elf hielt sich vor Schmerzen die Brust und taumelte zurück, doch der Kriegsgeborene setzte unbarmherzig nach. Mit drei schnellen Hieben seines Langschwertes zerhackte er Rüstung und Muskeln seines Gegners gleichermaßen. Blut spritzte ihm dabei ins Gesicht und der Elf vor ihm sank schwer getroffen, röchelnd zu Boden.

    Vor diesem ragte nun ein dunkler, gewaltiger Schatten, von dem nur ein feuriges Glimmen zu sehen war, dort wo die Augen sein sollten. Der Schütze hob schützend in einer Abwehrhaltung die Hand, schloss die Augen und erwartete, sich seines Endes gewahr, den finalen Hieb.

    Doch dieser blieb aus.

    Nach einer unendlich quälenden Ewigkeit öffnete der Elf dann die Augen. Der Kriegsgeborene stand noch immer über ihm, mit erhobenem Schwert. Doch das Glimmen war verschwunden. Stattdessen weinte er.

    „Das muss ein Ende haben. All das hier.“

    Beide blickten sich nun an, während die Zeit still zu stehen schien; mitten in einem Meer aus Leichen, welche stumme Zeugen waren von einer schrecklichen, unerbittlichen Schlacht – einfach einer weiteren bitteren Episode eines noch schrecklicheren, unerbittlicheren Krieges.

    Und beide, der drahtige Elf und der hünenhafte Kriegsgeborene, welche vor wenigen Minuten noch um Leben und Tod gefochten hatten, ergriff in diesem Moment der absoluten Stille, als ihre Blicke sich trafen, ein Gefühl des Friedens und der völligen Ruhe, welche nicht einmal vom Klang des zu Boden fallenden Schwertes gestört werden konnte.

    Beide verstanden jetzt einander.

    „Es hat ein Ende. Zumindest für uns beide.“

    Und mit diesen Worten ergriff der der Schütze die ausgestreckte Hand des Kriegsgeborenen.

    Auto: Ryzard
    Server: Taris (vorher Prophecy)

  10. #20
    Written by Foxy from Aria

    The lands of Erenor changed like the tides, with an ebb and flow of inhabitants that had different names and faces. We sang praises for heroes if only for fleeting moments until they disappeared, their names and deeds like whispers in the wind. Castles rose and fell, their bustling trade centers turning into bloody battlefields, their hazardous construction sites awaiting the arrival of new challengers in search of blood and glory.

    Erenor changed with the sands of time, but not her. She always stayed the same.

    The first time I saw her was upon the docks of Austera. The cobblestone pathways were bustling with the sounds of commerce as exchanges were made with a trader who has long since disappeared within far-off lands in search of more valuable wares. The breeze pulled at the skirts of her dress, a vision of true beauty that I would not soon forget.

    Our paths would cross a few more times before a connection was made, but etched in my memory forever are the grasslands of Exeloch when I met her. The wind pulled at the gemshrub stalks and tall grasses and the air smelled like salt from the Arcadian Sea. Her pale skin was covered in layers of fur, small rounded ears parting the waves of her dark hair. Her blue eyes were wide and sparkling. It was there that we built our first house together, painstakingly crafting and carrying bundles of materials, and it was there that we decided to weave together the threads of our destinies as one.

    The two of us went on to face the world together. Our list of accomplishments grew as we made new friends and with their help, added to our list of victories. We defeated the most frightening creatures of Erenor, such as the imposing dragon that haunts the lands of Karkasse Ridgelands, a creature of such stature that he struck fear in the hearts of Nuians and Haranyans alike. We survived the fury of his magma breath and the beat of his powerful wings. We sailed the high seas together, defending our trade goods from the onslaught of relentless sea bugs in exchange for golden coins. We also faced the horrors of the ocean’s murky depths. We fought the legendary Kraken, a nightmarish apparition that has haunted the dreams of sailors and their widows since the beginning of time. Again and again, we saved each other from the brink of death and shared in the celebration of our success.

    Some friends moved on without us, disappearing through portals that crackled with electricity and magic, never to return. After many battles won and lost, we joined together in order to challenge Zaldrane the Enchantress, a brutal witch who spent her time harassing the roads and farmlands of Nuia. During this battle, I was tossed aside by her dark powers and Zaldrane placed a nasty curse upon my companion. In a cloud of miasma and a pool of poison, she fell to her knees choking and coughing, and we were forced to retreat.

    When we returned to the Haranyan mainlands, to our home in Ynystere, she fell violently ill. The curse worked quickly, spreading dark magic through her veins. She stayed in her apothecary manor to rest as the curse sapped her life force. The sparkles in her eyes had faded and she stared back at me with fearful eyes brimmed with tears. I knew that I had to save her. She healed me when I was weak, bringing me back from the precipice of death time and time again, and resurrecting me if I fell on the battlefield. Now, it was my turn to return the favor.

    I paced back and forth, wracking my brain for answers. In my madness I found myself in Exeloch once again, staring down at the ocean from the cliffside. I screamed into the wind, the words ripped away from my lips. I fell to my knees and whispered a silent prayer.

    The air around me began to shimmer. At last, my anguish had been answered. An apparition of the beautiful goddess Nui appeared before me, her white dress flowing in the strong sea winds as she hovered near the cliffside. Tears fell from her gorgeous face when she addressed me, moved by my emotions. “The curse can be broken,” she told me in a voice that sounded musical, like the echoes of instruments played by a famed artist in the Yorland Theater in Austera. “You must find the lily that blooms in the fires of Auroria and bring it back to your love. Make a tea from its flowers and allow her to drink it. She will be cured.” The goddess disappeared after she relayed her message, the sounds of her sobs fading away in nothingness.

    It was with a renewed sense of purpose that I marched into the fields of Marcala, relying on my mastery of Shadowplay to help me navigate its treacherous lands. The humanoid Abyssal Legions that stalked for prey amongst the rocks and hills were my biggest threat, creatures that killed and destroyed mindlessly. When I found my way into the burning forest, I knew that I had to be near the flower that Nui had spoken of. I searched high and low, avoiding the sick Mutated Flesh Golems and terrifying Faceless Soldiers as well as I could. When at last I had checked at the base of every burning tree and around every blazing tree trunk, I was overcome once more with waves of despair. The lily was nowhere to be found.

    That was when the ground lurched beneath me, shaking under my feet as a loud noise like thunder battered my ears. On the other side of the forest stood the jagged peaks of a volcano, reaching high into the sky with its glowing magma tendrils. It was then that I knew that my journey would take me to its dangerous depths. Inside the volcano was where I would find the fire lily.

    When I approached the mountainside, I began to climb the rocky crevasses, my hands slipping on the sheer grey cliff face as my fingers struggled for purchase on the sharp stones. Inch after inch I pulled myself up the heights of the volcano with willpower alone, following twisting pathways when I could and forging my own when I could not. At last, I reached a final ledge and stared over the precipice into the middle of the live volcano.

    I took a deep breath to calm my nerves as I climbed toward the solidified magma core that glistened like a red crystal, pulsing with magic as if it was alive. The air was hot and thick, covering my skin with a sheen of sweat. The ground shook underneath my feet again, sending me sprawling across the hot rocks. With an imminent eruption, I knew that I had to work quickly. I dashed around the base of the magma crystal, past the veins of lava that threatened to burst and drown me in fiery liquid. As I rounded the corner I saw what I had come for: a lily, bright red and glistening with power. The earth shuddered again beneath me as if it threatened to swallow me whole if I picked the flower, but I knew that it was a risk that I had to take for her. I teleported forward, hoping that the fifteen-meter dash would buy me some time. I bent down in front of the lily and plucked it from the ground.

    The volcano lurched violently while I was still at its core. The rocks shifted around me as stalactites shook loose from the ceiling, shattering at my feet. I activated my magithopter and shot towards the sky, clutching the fire lily to my chest and whispering another prayer to the goddess Nui. Smoke filled the chamber of the volcano, blinding me. I heard the magma crystal begin to shatter, steam hissing as the lava bubbled over the edges and spluttered into the air. I flew to safety with the lily in hand.

    When I returned to Ynystere, I made a tea and served it to my weak companion. The power within the flower began to work instantly, its fragrant petals purging the poison from her veins. As weeks passed after her recovery began, we slowly regained our strength together. Erenor had changed once again, a land bustling with new faces and new people. We stood together on our new island paradise, rebuilding our houses and decorating together, our strength renewed. Erenor was different, but we still had each other. We were the same.
    ♡✧☆🐺🐺 ☆✧♡
    (=♡ ᆺ ♡=)

    ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Closed Thread
Page 2 of 6 FirstFirst 1 2 3 4 ... LastLast

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts