In the year 130 the first recorded member of the O’Mhuireuchu, the founder of the clan. A man by the name of Lairgnen, a simple farmer in Old Ceardia, and his wife Aigi. He would be the first to give life to the family, and spark generations of strong willed O’Mhuireuchus’ to come. In the mid to late 100s, far before the birth of Caderyn I the Dominant, Old Ceardia was subsequently destroyed by the Archdemon. In this time, many kingdoms fell, not excluding the Kingdom of Myrrin, where the O’Mhuireuchu lived within a local manor.
Upon the fall of Myrrin, and the virtual apocalypse that was Old Ceardia’s collapse, the O’Mhuireuchu became refugees in the remarkably harsh landscape that was Gallovia. Around this time, Caderyn I the...
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The event that haunted the Turall's memory played in his mind once more as he finally drifted off to sleep... Jake Morgen's hands went to the swords sheathed at his sides, for comfort more than anything as the memories played again...
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He was in Turall, in the pit. He was facing off against a girl he'd known for a while, they'd started to become friends. The wooden shortswords clashed repeatedly against one another, both of them at an equal match. The instructors watched impassively as the two fought hard. It was the best fight Jake had had in a while, and his adrenaline was pumping as he raised a leg, kicking her backwards and darting forward, putting her on...
Peter, Frederick and Niko Winslough had set off to Habichtsburg, leaving the gates of the Holy City with only a small escort, as their house guards and house staff there in the city had been dismissed.
As they neared the borders of Ostlaukirchen, Peter sighed, saying over to Niko while slowing the pace of his steed. “Sad, sad indeed. We no longer have a hold over our land here. Though, it will forever be our home.” Peter sighed, adjusting his longsword’s sheath. “It’s a pity we lost everything so early. The vassalage declaration was entirely in vane. Plans ruined. But this won’t be our end. I can assure you cousin. This was not our golden age. But merely the beginning.”
As they continued along the country road and past the gates of...
An Introduction to Magic
I am Hector Khada. You may not know my name, you may not know my face. You probably have little idea of who I am. But these are the results of my studies, among my many years on Aloria. This study will break the magic down for you into its different types, and show you the true methods by which the mages control the world.
First, you have many different types of magic, but they can almost all be classified into Void and Exist magic, depending on which energies they tap. Interestingly, they are viewed different socially, but that is a part for a different segment. In this compilation of various studies, you will find all the information you require, whether you're an aspiring mage or one wishing to learn of...
The Vampire crept up, pressing himself into the corner as his three targets moved about the room. As of yet, they hadn't noticed him, his cloak melting into the shadows as though he wasn't there. He may as well have been invisible as, on a nearby rooftop, his partner set up her Anglian Longbow. He watched the three targets intently, his hands resting on his knives...
THUNK!
A massive arrow suddenly protruded from the chest of one of the three, the woman. having soared through the window. Immediately, as they started setting up and trying to prepare and find cover... He reached out, his hand grasping the mouth of one as he dragged them into the shadowy corner, his fangs piercing the man's neck, drinking greedily of his blood. He tossed...
No beast is more savage than man when possessed with power answerable to his rage.
-Plutarch
“I’ll take good care of Ale, I promise, Sera. We’ll go and stay with Ry, ‘til all of this is over. Don’t you worry, okay? We’re gonna be safe, okay?”
Her sister’s words played over and over within her head as she lay on the couch in the estate, the fire nearby crackling gently.
It had been a day. A day that had started off not terribly well, quickly turned a tad less so. With a successful interview and a new recruit in the ranks, she enjoyed a cup of kaffee and had settled in to listen to the hustle and bustle of the Teahaus and the city outside.
Then the day turned even better, with the finishing of the new...
It is well known that prolonged exposure to planar essences, be they void or exist in nature, will result in the so called 'magic touch', a recurring dream about the plane the essence exposed to originated from. The magic touch is often what prompts the learning of magic.
A tranquil breeze blew gently across fields of tall wheat grass, the stalks swayed as if they were in some rhythmic dance. A Cielothar lay basking upon a boulder among the wheat. She was a young child, barely fourteen at the time. She was often found laying on her rock in fair weather when she could wear a sundress and go without shoes safely. This boulder happened to be a favored napping spot of hers.
“Sa’leolla!” A woman called from a small hut on a hill nearby...
I.
Pride
"I''m not invisible... Am I?"
We ruled the world together, he and I. Our seed of friendship blossomed into something that a mere flower metaphor just couldn't describe. Together, we ruled over the district under an Iron fist and all who steps to us are left at our boundless mercy. A crime syndicate so large yet so silent that we stretched from the shifting deserts of Farah'deen to the blistering tundra of Ellador. There was no visible end to our power and for once... We were content at least he was.
II.
Lust
"I long for their warmth."
We were at our peak and time that was once burnt on work was now left for our leisure. I'll never forget the night where I was cradled by the warmth of the fireplace, protected from the...
Trigger Warning: Abuse
Behind Closed Doors
A frustrated, angry yell echoed throughout the small city house. A young red-headed teenager was curled into a ball in the corner of his room, looking up towards a ripped and shirtless figure. Tears dribbling down his cheeks as he choked on his sobs.
“P-Please, I- I’m so s- sor--”
“You aren’t f**king sorry! All you care about is your damned self! Huh?? Isn’t that right, Adrian?” roared Nemesio down at him. He took a few strides forward towards Adrian, a hand extended. He slapped him. Hard. The teen let out a pained yelp, his breath raggedy from crying.
“P-Please? I- I didn’t m-mean to--” he muttered through his sniffling.
“You didn’t mean to be a fat f**king coward? F*ck off! This is your own...
Never before had the crumbling, subterranean chambers of the Tohn Valeer seemed so resplendent and full of life as they did upon Imuline’s most recent visit.
Though the halls were very, very old, the warm light cast by the many lanterns illuminated living quarters, shops and leisure rooms that were not only kept neat and clean, but that had actually been restored in many cases from partially collapsed hollows to their former elegant beauty. The underground passages seemed less like passages and more like nighttime city streets, bustling with colourful, graceful Maraya and their reptilian cattle, the scene all lit by the glow of candles, torches, braziers and hanging lanterns, and the larger chambers were truly a sight to behold. The...
The Altalar sat at his desk within the finance offices of one of the many Nelfin Kingdoms. His quill which carried ink at the tip raced across the pages as Fennor filled out chart upon chart, sheet upon sheet. This was the man's daily life within the city and soon he would part from such an occupation. Part from such a life. Not because of the life he lived, though because of war. Recently, the Regalian Empire led by Crown Prince Alexander made an attack upon the many kingdoms, beginning the Elven War of 302 A.C. He found himself at risk and wished to make a move so he may reside on the safer side of this conflict.
…
He had made plans. Various arrangements to secure his departure from the Nelfin states. A vessel at the harbor, manned...
“Do you smell it…?” Bangsi asked Wolfgang Drache as they stood over the butchered Elven archer on the ground across from the Goddess’ temple.
If truth be told, Wolfgang did not smell it at first. He was a young man, roughly the age of twenty-four with raven black hair. He looked as gallant as any Knight should. He always combed, kept his beard shaved, and wore the scar on his face as an badge of honor. He kept his silence nonetheless.
“The stench smell. I don’ know.” the Skagger followed up with a reply. Bangsi was a blonde hair man of war with countless battles he fought and won in. He was a Skagger afterall. His rampage bested even the mightiest of foes. The numerous scars showing on his white skin show his battle-harded...
“Home by the river,
Right by our mother dearest,
We take a fern and pull it up,
And then we stream along,”
Cielothar sat, legs folded in, as they were weaving dried ferns together in unison. Little children ran about happily with flower crowns adorning their heads. It was bright and cheery outside, with some wind elves singing along to the melody of a song buried deep in their pasts. Their harvest was nearly ready to be gathered, seas of grains and corns waving in the distance, but today was seen as too nice of a day to work the fields. After all, they did have all the rest of the season to work.
One after another, the Cielothar began to pick up a new tune. All at once, they passed off their completed baskets and began new ones...
The moon was full, bathing the streets of the holy city in a silvery gleam. The faint neighing of a horse could be heard in the distance, accompanied by the clacking of its hooves and the hollow creaks of the cart it pulled. Warm candlelight shone from every window, terrace, and tavern from which you could hear both heartfelt lullabies and drunken sea shanties. Amidst it all sat a couple on a bench in the park
The man was draped in a dark cloak which obscured a recognizable patterened waistcoat of crimson shades. The woman was leaned back with a calm and relaxed demeanor , her spouse gently necking the side of her throat.
A group of young sailors came stumbling along the calm pathways, disturbing the silence as they cracked poorly...
A Long Night
The night was quiet, peaceful. A window had been left ajar to let in the cool summer air. Adrian sat on the bed, his head resting on his knees as he looked out towards the starlit sky, unable to find refuge in sleep; so instead, he thought.
He thought about his day.
It had been pretty normal, actually. He’d helped a patient with their bruises and bandages, shared some noodles at The Jade Rooster Noodle bar with Ozy (though, Ozy ate most of them), and then headed home.
He thought about his past.
He remembered the beaches of Daenshore, the sandcastles he used to make with his brother.
He remembered all the friends and family he’d left back there, and felt a pang in his chest.
He remembered his old self: social and...
Why Smile?
Red.
The room was dark but his thoughts were red.
The color of love. The color of his scarf. The color of passion and strength..
Red the color staining the clothes of the Ardelans after someone had crossed them.
The color of anger.. rage... blood.
The boy screwed his eyes shut as he lay still in his bed, gripping the thin blankets as his chest heaved rythemcally up and down.. up down. Air felt heavier, he couldn't breathe, the blankets were strangling him.
Red, the color of blood. The color of fire.
The blankets were on fire, he was on fire.
A shuddering sob escaped Oz as he ripped the blankets off and sat up quickly, leaping off his bed. Something fell off the table beside the bed as he stumbled into it, crashing...
“You’ll be home for the party?”
“I promise.”
“Then please return home safely.”
Sera turned her eyes down to peer into those of her wife’s. The Avanthar sat mounted atop her horse as her wife stood nearby, a hand resting gently on her leg. Despite having clearly heard the words the other woman had spoken, she had heard similar words of another echo within her mind, which she promptly shook off.
Get home safely. Please.
“I will do my best.”
They had forged a delicate truce of sorts- for the sake of their youngest child’s naming day celebration that would occur when Sera returned from handling her errand. It had, surprisingly enough, Catalina’s idea. After a rather tense conversation between, they agreed to set their anger and...
June 12th, 306 A.C.
This morning was relatively quiet in the Estate's courtyard, of course not counting the bird's sharp chirps and the soft sounds of hedge trimming. However, I'm glad the sounds weren't screams, shouts, begs, or protests; Sounds that inevitably would course through my eardrums in just a few hours time when I arrive in the city for my daily duties at the slum's gate or otherwise.
The slum's gate and beyond is a godless place, filled with demons in their own right, accompanied by Void dripping, criminal scum. They make our city dishonorable and distasteful to say the least - and yet they don't care to change. They enjoy their heretic and traitorous ways despite it ultimately being the death of them all.
Some of them...
Johanna Haaven sat inside of her room within the Haaven country-side Estate, carefully surveying herself in front of the room's intricate mirror. She sat forward in her chair, thus causing the cyan cushions to shift with her weight; weight that she believed to be too much, yet not enough. With a growing frown, she slowly leaned back in her chair to resume the cushion's previous position. With just a single glance, the Haaven found many flaws: fading hair dye, a rebel curl, scars, uneven piercings, an imperfect posture, belly fat, thunder thighs... She was very clearly, noticeably so, naive to the fact that nobody else noticed the flaws she loathed, thus her thoughts continued.
A huff escaped the woman's lips before she stood with a...
Finally.
Ardige stood there, looking out from the upper battlements of what was formerly the Elven Fort Pau. But no longer. It had been a swift and decisive battle. From the sea had come several Kade ships, skirting the very edge of the fort’s range of fire. Then came the men from the beach where Ardige had commanded. They had landed earlier in the day protected by morning mists, climbing up the hills around to the north side of the fort. A variety of troops made up of spearmen, swordsmen, horsemen and siege engines headed up toward the city. However, so focused they had been on the sea that they barely had time to mount a defense at their great wooden door.
Now he stood there, able to look around this conquered territory. The fort...
"Chanting, hundreds, maybe thousands of voices. They shout out, screaming to be entertained; swarming the stands around this oh so hollow hole in the ground." The milky-eyed old man gave a rather high-pitched chuckle and nodded some. "They're all here for you, Krash."
Through the smoke stepped a small Qadir, gripping his spear so tightly and holding his shield close to his chest. His armour glistened in the sunlight and perhaps one could maybe make out the religious inscriptions across his wears if they tried hard enough. Most of the crowd begun booing, somehow upset at the sight of this so-called gladiator stepping into the fighting pits; it was easy enough to remember the great pitfighters in Amkhar and this measly Qadir was not one...
"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster."
-Friedrich Nietzsche-
Theme
The wood creaked and crackled in the fireplace, tossing shadows upon the wall as the singular occupant of the study sat, slouched in a chair by the window. A brown and white cat slept peacefully in the woman’s lap, softly purring as her bandaged hands stroked over the creature's fur.
Her eyes focused on the few clouds that lazily made their way across the moon and starlit sky. A breath escaped her body, slow and easy. An inhale and then an exhale as she continued to stare out into the night, her eyes squinting a bit before she slowly pushed herself up from the chair, going to place the still sleeping feline into...
Quivering, crying on the ground, grasping for a breath of fresh air and all the while fighting for his life. The stave slammed into his cheek, a loud cracking sound coming from his jaw as the boy fell from his sitting position, sprawled unto the gravel. His face pressed into the hot soil beneath him, a boot resting on his head as the beast claimed it's victory. The child, a mere boy of nine years stared into the distance, through blurred vision through blood, sweat and tears. His hatred consumed him as his gaze rose to that of a man standing above him, the child reaching out for his own stave before a loud thwack came from his right and he let out yet another scream as his hand was broken.
The man slowly removed his boot, closing his...
The slums never had a particular allure to anyone; the smell that drifted from the shoddy sanitation could hardly be lifted by the distant ocean breeze, but Valerie found her feet trailing old paths from muscle memory alone.
In the dead of night, not even the scum of the city dared bother her, because the darkness brought either rest or fear of much more dangerous things to the most sinister of the city. But to Valerie, the shadows were a comfort, even if it had been a while since she had needed to know every shortcut, twist, and turn. Even the smell was something distant, but familiar—nostalgia lingered in the back of her mind, but she could never be sure exactly what she was nostalgic for. Nights like these dragged her back to her...
The warriors surrounded him, their blades drawn.... He growled softly, his blades slowly sliding out of their sheathes, the girl beside him drawing her own. The bandits attacked, relying on sheer force of numbers to try and take down the opposing duo... Jake's blades stabbed into the gut of one charging warrior, him kneeling and shoving upwards, sending the bandit flying back behind him, dead... Meanwhile, the girl he had come to love slashed at two, slicing their throats. Her blades found their way into another bandit, and Jake swept his legs out, knocking one down as his swords found his way into his chest. He spared only the slightest glance to his comrade before moving onto the next enemy, one blade going downward towards his...
As the Vidugglas awoke in their estate they found almost all that had belonged to one of their members, Nadia, were simply gone. Her son Lovid was quietly asleep in his crib. But there were a few things left.
The first thing left was a sketchbook with two dates written on the cover. The first of those being the date of her wedding to Frejnir, the second being this very day. When leafed through all one would find were numerous sketches of Lovid and Frejnir, only ever ones of them smiling. There were numerous pages left blank, as if she hadn’t completed this life she loved so dearly. The last drawing was a refined sketch of Nadia, Frejnir, and Lovid, framed in a heart, all smiling like a family.
The second thing they’d find would be...
The path that stretched out before her was cobbled and clearly well traveled. The scarred woman frowned gently as she touched the rather odd shaped bump beneath the fabric of her outfit. Tucked into her tunic, she carried a sleeping dove, resting gently against her heart, which she gently touched before beginning to jog further along the path. Her sandals clacked and clicked as she kept her head held high, staring forward.
The path simply kept stretching in front of her, her eyes squinting in the sunlight as cobble gave away to dirt and she suddenly found herself in vast plains, her head twisting to and from as she cupped the dove gently to her chest. The bird remained asleep, tucked happily against the warmth of the woman’s skin and...
Cipactli...
A hysterical laughter could be heard. The room was dark, as if it had no walls, but one spot was illuminated. The glass container sat there, full of water with barely enough room to fit a full grown man.
The laughter turned to the sounds of Hylon, but these were not beautiful, they were ominous. As if someone had died and all of these Maiars were mourning his loss. As Cipactli approach he saw the face of a female Maiar, his wife.
If Cipactli could cry he would have, this was pure torture "Wh-what have th-they d-d-done to you?" He asked, horrified. The woman in the box just laughed, but it was drowned out by all the water, normal races wouldn't hear it, but Cipactli did.
"What do you mean what did they do to me, you did...
Scornful Mistress
Eyes that glitter like the purest diamonds, with lips that spit black smoke.
Furs draped upon her shoulders, but the true claws are her own.
Who could that be there? Hiding amongst the frilly wardrobe on an unsuspecting wife. A raven-haired demon, with a grin of pure spite.
You think you own her heart,
But not all that glitters is gold.
When you leave in the morning, you’re left with nothing but a hole.
How could she be so heartless? You ask yourself with disdain. Well she isn’t. She just knows the game.
The game of love, seemingly so pure,
Is a game for fools, or so she adheres,
To the thought of a poor man’s heart stirring over her.
All that glitters is gold to them, but to her, the gold is liqueur.
(i made this...
Lonesome Nights
Perhaps it was the storm the jolted the Altalar awake, or maybe it was the lonesome feeling of her dreaded heart that had decided to shake her to her bones. She knew that sleeping wasn't going to be a possibility anymore.
With a sigh she reached and rubbed the exhaustion from her emerald eyes. Removing the silk sheets from over her. She stood, grumbling as she stalked down the stairs to the bottom floor, walking towards the windows that overlooked the ocean.
The ocean was roaring as waves crashed upon the sea wall. The once calm the ocean had become disturbed by the strange storm. Lightening striked within the water, showing her what lay beneath a few feet, rolling thunder following seconds after.
The Talar opened a...
An Old Man Wanders
Within Kelhoff estate at about one in the very morning, an elder was lying in bed. He was merely gazing up towards the ceiling, finding himself not able to shut his eyes and succumb to slumber. He soon had enough of simply awaiting for something which would not occur. Therefore, the Reverend brought both arms onto the linens rapped snugly around his bed, moving to give a large push. The Harhold grunted in pain as his bones gave a crackle, though still he continued to rise. Soon the old man brought his legs over to the bed side, both feet moving into two slippers, placed near the bed earlier. He grasped the handle of his cane, rising once more. He placed all his weight upon his feet, before leaning on his cane in...
Within the confines of her dark, dingy cell, a woman sat quietly. How long had it been? Days, weeks? It was hard for her to recall. One tends to lose all perception of how time passes in a place that runs in effectively the same manner through day and night alike. When sun and moon are not visible, and the torches hanging from the walls always cast the same sickly glow, it’s all too easy to lose track, which only quickens the impending insanity.
Day one wasn’t all that tricky. The woman still carried a level of optimism. “I’ll negotiate my way out of this; I always do.”
Day two was very much the same. “They’ve not killed me yet. I must be having some impact.”
Day three was when the insomnia, the loneliness and the depression...
"And I will love you for better or worse."
Theme
A sound close to a growl escaped from her chapped lips as she shoved the door to her study open. Tearing her coat off and tossing it to the floor, she bared her teeth in anger and covered her scarred face with her hands.
“Idiota. Should have kept your big mouth shut.” She mumbled to herself as she dragged her hands down her face, dropping her hands to her sides.
Her thoughts were a mess and her heart racing.
Slumping down into the chair before her desk, the wood creaking as her large frame settled into it, she scrubbed at her face again.
“Good going. You nearly let it all spill out.” She allowed her head to thump down upon the desk, an audible groan escaping as she...
The night falls in the year of 290, as Alfred Jack lays down on the rocks unconscious with a couple of scars and black marks on him due to a fight he recently had with an Allar, It didn't take long for him to finally open his eyes and sat back up slowly holding his head. Alfred looks around left and right to see if anyone is here before he stood up slowly on his feet holding his shoulders in pain as it shows a bite from the creature he fought earlier. He attempts to climb up some rocks before he makes it to shore not knowing where he is, all he remembers is that he is held prisoner and the fight he had.
After a couple of minutes walking around the shore lines, he discovers a small rowing boat and decided to walk towards it hoping to...
"Never did anybody look so sad. Bitter and black, halfway down, in the darkness, in the shaft which ran from the sunlight to the depths, perhaps a tear formed; a tear fell; the waves swayed this way and that, received it, and were at rest. Never did anybody look so sad."
-Virginia Woolf
Perhaps a slight gore/graphic warning? Not exactly but there you are.
The darkness was disturbing to the Qadir that laid on her bed in her Slum apartment. At her left side, she could hear the familiar light snores of her Halfling fiancé, who'd fallen asleep with her curled against his side. The faint shine of moonlight spilled across the rough blankets covering them like milk poured by a tot. The young woman leaned her head towards her lover until her...
"As long as you can grab a breath, you fight. You breathe... keep breathing."
Katriane flung the silverware off of the side table kept by her bed. It harshly clattered against the wall, its dinging sound resonating sharply--and only amplified once it hit the ground. The table soon followed the same fate of the dainty silverware, though due to her lacking strength, all she could manage was to knock it over onto its side with a flurry of both arms. She gave a cry of dismay, of effort, and displeasure. Not even venting her physical frustration and worries was enough to relieve her. None of it was enough.
The shoes were next to be thrown. She swiped them from beside the bed and threw them towards the lounging room. The pair vaulted in...
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This was a cooperative effort, written by myself and @Wolf_Cobra. Both @IGutTheMidasTuch and @Gearot would have direct knowledge of this incident. Farewell to an absolutely lovely character!
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Jamie and Amelia sat across from one another, each nursing a wine-filled chalice. There was an odd, mechanical quality to the patriarch’s movements, as few as they were. His entire body was stagnant, the only sign of life being the hand that occasionally propelled a goblet to his lips. Jamie’s female counterpart, on the other hand, seemed her usual, impatient self; setting her feet atop a...
The Simple Knight rode forth, bobbing along with armor clanking as he trotted across the battlefield. Bodies dotted the landscape and arrows lay struck up randomly; further ahead one could see smoke rising from the camp. Approaching, the knight was greeting by the glares of soldiers, most covered in dirt and blood clutching their wounds. He ignored the stares and continued onward towards the main tent. Three men greeted the knight with a bow as he dismounted. Two seemed scrawny being either a pair of squires or servants, the other a plump man dressed in silk clothing who spoke in a deep tone. "Glad to see you finally arrive Ser Sparrow. Your absence was duly noted by his highness; I believe him to say you the most 'snail like' and...