Имя Пользователя: Asmodell
I (Harm) lived
in the city for a long time, worked in a big trade shop in which goods which we
with partners brought from Dunheim were on sale, but the last trip changed my
life . My boss was a very powerful person and as soon as we arrived in Dunheim
he went to meet with some man from the Big Council . For anybody there was no
secret why he left , but nobody spoke about it ,the reason was in fires in the
sky .After returning, my boss was already not acting like yourself, an adult ,
but slender man is aged like 10 years .Arriving in his hometown, he closed his
shop and advised not to waste time .In the beginning I received this
information negatively , I thought he was crazy, but when the city began to
empty I began to think again about the words of the boss and decided to return
to his native village to his parents .
But all I saw when I came back ,instead
of meadows and green fields - the drying up , dying earth . My village is fully
consistent with the current state of the land, sick and exhausted people .The
fear that my family had become the same scared me, but I hoped for the best
.Coming to my father's house I was overtaken by resentment that I had not come
home for 10 years .Going into the house all I saw was an almost empty house and
sitting in the corner on the stretcher an old woman , who was glaring at me with
a look .Children always think their mothers are the most beautiful regardless
of age ,but he barely recognized mother . Coming closer I greeted her and
hugged her. Asked where he was , but I saw the smile and it was not a smile of
motherly love ,but rather the animal grin .But instead of answering, she just
Harm came home.
And his mother
Where the father
does not know,
yearned for his son
and again .And only a few hours later I began to think, but how was the mother
if the father did not come home for so long ,because always sitting paralyzed
on a chair ? It was with these thoughts that I fell asleep .
Knock.knock. What? It went through my
head .I lazily opened eyes, but could not see darkness . I forgot unaccustomed
to light in the house light , and the only thing I heard knock , knock ! I
worried about my mother and called her, but what I heard in response made my
heart beat much more often - it was a hysterical scream , followed by even more
hysterical laughter and more often heard a sound - knock knock. And from the doorway
of the next room and ran out to my mother ! But my mother was paralyzed and
could not walk ,but now she was standing on her crooked legs ,holding a piece
of bone in her hands .When our eyes crossed, I heard her giggling , and then
she started talking.:
- Pathetic people defiled the world,
the gods became angry and soon they will punish us, but if we wash away our
sins with blood , we will save the world of Verra, your father gave for this
purpose all his blood and flesh !
As soon as she talked, she ran at me
with such speed that I did not even have time to defend myself ,a bone stab
pierced my stomach , severe pain spilled over my body ,but she was immediately
extinguished by fear . On the strength of a push I fell on a chair and broke it
. I got a piece of wood under my eye , which I instinctively grabbed and
plunged into my mother's throat . black, rotten blood doused my face, but my
mother's grip weakened and I was able to push her away . running out on the
street I could only hear choking in the blood of laughter . Ran into the street
I was overcome by weakness from loss of blood ,I could not stand ,his eyes were
filled with tears from thinking of what is really going on . This did not last
long . I heard footsteps . They were neighbors coming out of their houses .I
with all remaining forces were trying to say :
- Please, help, my mother, she ...she.
Laughter banished the ominous silence that harbored these newly refined woods. The night sky bore into the heart of the forest; it was only by the radiance of the moon that this cluster of tired friends tread forward along the lonesome dirt trail. It was a long evening of dancing, drinking, and overall excitement that embodied the town from whence they came. With arms over shoulders, and wobbly legs struggling to stand up straight, the group slurred songs of their homelands as they made their way back to one of their friends' freeholds.
The youngest of the group, Aiden, lagged behind the initial squadron of friends. With his hands in his pockets, he sauntered forward looking off into the wilderness. Within the woods, he could hear the disconcerting noises of wild animals at play, the squawks and chirps of the night time creatures did not ease his growing anxiety.
Within the forest, Aiden also heard a peculiar sound, one that he was unfamiliar with... It was much like a wind chime, but instead of the high melodic pitch one would give, it was low and reverberated throughout his body. He looked to his friends to see if they noticed as well, but they seemed to be oblivious.
He inspected it further, his ears perked up, trying to pinpoint the specific location it was emanating from. He soon realized how much distance there was between him and the group now, nearly stepping into the bosk, he quickly backed away and joined his group again. Now, away from the thicket and the entrancing chime that took place only moments ago.
Some time had passed as they walked down the eerie trail, it must have been an hour since Aiden had heard the noise that now occupied his mind. He was beginning to feel exceedingly uncomfortable out in the woods, and so was Tamora, a bubbly elven girl with thick blond hair. “Do you even know where we’re going at this point? We’ve been walking for ages now”, she stated, perturbed by the possibility of being lost. “Of course I know where we’re going.” preached Dorian, a young Vaelune noble, wealthy by his parents' lineage. He seemed agitated that Tamora would ask such a dubious question. His response did nothing to repulse the parties concern of their whereabouts.
It slowly became apparent that the further they tread down this trail the uglier their surroundings became. Fog now enshrouded the dirt path, and brittle branches stuck out like thorns ready to catch anyone who got too close.
A now familiar sound echoed throughout the depths of the woods, the ominous chime became apparent to Aiden once more. His eyes darted back and forth, trying to locate where the bewitching jingle was coming from. "You seem to be a little unsettled, what is wrong?" Aiden turned to the voice who was now inquiring of him. He could not quite make out whom he was talking to, though he did notice the outline of pointed ears protruding from their hair. He suddenly realized that it must be Celia, an elven patron they grouped up with at 'The Mighty Beard' tavern. He hesitated to reply, "Honestly, I'm a little stressed. I keep hearing this noise off in the woods, do you hear that? It.. it sounds like a ringing, no not a ringing. Like a wind chime, but deeper. You hear it, don't you?"
Uncertainty was radiating off of him in waves, he didn't realize how unnerved he truly was until he started speaking.
"Oh yes, I have heard that for quite some time now." Celia gripped Aiden's hand and stepped closer to him. "Why don't you follow me to see what it is, It must be right through the woods. It is so very near." Her body was surprisingly warm pressed against his, as if the cold temperature did nothing to her. "I-I don't think that would be too wise of an idea, we would get lost, wouldn't we. Even more lost than we already are." Her grip tightened around him, making his hand ache uncomfortably. "Oh please, we will be careful. Trust me, let me take you to look for it." The chiming grew louder around him, he was very tempted to see what it was that was projecting such a sound. Abruptly, a pain cascaded around Aiden’s hand, heat radiated off of Celia like a forge. It stung him in ways that were much too abnormal for a normal person to handle. He winced and looked up at her, shaking his hand away from her grip. “Celia, what is the matter? You are hot like the sun, are you ill?” Celia spoke no words, she only stared at him. Aiden glanced up towards the group in front of him but saw something far too frightening to bear. Next to Dorian stood Celia, the moonlight was bright enough to make out her auburn hair and pointed ears.
Aiden came to a stop, his breath hitched as he dared to glance at whomever he was just talking to. Sunken eyes stared back at him with a visage grayer than any cobblestone found in his village. Aiden spoke, his voice shaking uncontrollably, “W-who are you…” Whoever it was, it was certainly not Celia. It stared at him long, it’s abhorrent unmoving eyes locked with his terrified gaze. Without a word, it walked into the deep of the forest, leaving Aiden in the middle of the trail alone and trembling in fear.
“There is still much of this world we know not about.” He recalled his father telling him. “You must be careful out there, Verra is still very dangerous for a lad like you.”
With that, he ran back to his group of friends, shrieking about what he had just experienced.
“Still drunk are we?” Dorian chuckled, wrapping his arm around Aiden's shoulder. They continued to tread down the dirt trail, but the whole time they did, the chime never ceased to play.
Gather round Gather round, old gran said,
And I’ll tell you a tale that would chill the dead.
“What will you tell us?” little Luther asked,
“Why the tale or Marcus and the witches task”.
Little Luthers eyes grew large inside of his head,
He had heard whispers of the dreaded dead.
For that is where this tale leads,
A world full of dread, dead fallen like leaves.
It starts with a wish involving lust and greed,
And ends with a curse that will make your soul bleed.
Marcus was a man who had little to his name,
He would work in his field and scorn others with gain.
He would look at people, who had riches and wealth,
And curse them as undeserving unlike himself.
For he saw himself as one who should be a lord,
And for that he felt he was due to be adored.
Marcus had heard whispers of a woman, who could change your
And ignored parts of the tales that were covered in strife.
He sought her out, this elusive Witch,
And demanded she help him get out of the ditch.
She cackled with glee at this shortsighted man,
And said she would help him if he followed her plan.
But I warn you once! Said the devilish Witch,
Break our pact and you’ll wish you were back in the ditch.
I’ll make you regret the day you were born,
And fill your existence with pain and scorn.
The plan was simple he thought in his head,
He just had to welcome her and give her a bed.
The witch could come knocking once every few years,
He would give her a feast and maybe a few beers.
She took out a knife and cut open his hand,
Chanting a spell that did not seem so grand.
That’s it? He asked once the chanting was through,
She nodded once and told him that will do.
He ran back to town with an eagerness and glee,
For he was so close to becoming what he dreamt to be.
He got to his home, the shack in the field,
And saw a great manor now stood where his crops used to
With a cry of joy he rushed to the door,
And saw rooms full of riches, art and more.
He was now a lord he would boast to his piers,
And lived as such throughout the years.
He married a young lass who was as bitter as he,
And together they made a large bitter family.
They lived without worry a life care free,
That was until one day, when the witch came demanding her
Marcus was out with his sons on a hunt,
His wife answered the door with a miserable grunt.
An old crone was knocked looked cold and haggard,
She shivered and sighed her breath was ragged.
What do you want old woman? His wife said,
Why a nice place by the fire and somewhere for my head.
With a cruel laugh and a curler push,
Marcuse’s wife shoved the old woman into a bush.
Go away you old beggar before my husband hears!
We worked for our fortune over many years!
With a cackle of glee the old woman vanished without a
And a feeling of dread settled in her place.
Out in the woods Marcus stopped on his hunt,
And gutted his sons without so much as a grunt.
He strung them up on horse like hares,
And retuned to his home to show off his wares.
His wife screamed with horror at the sight,
Her sons mangles corpses out there in the light.
Marcus did not give her much time to dwell,
For he cut off her head like it was a tree to fell.
He moved though the house killing all he found,
No one escaped him not even his hound.
A feast he prepared with his mighty hunting haul,
And invited the town to dine in his grand hall.
It was all going well and everyone was tucking in,
That was until the smith found a finger in the bin.
With degust and horror all the townspeople knew,
That what they had been enjoying was not normal stew.
Marcus started laughing a horrid and cackling thing,
And opened his mouth and began to sing.
He sang them a story of how he acquired his riches,
And how so much better he was to be out the ditches.
He was still singing as they lashed him to the wall,
Humming away as they barred while the door.
The smith lit the match and they set it to the house,
The singing grew fainter as faint as a mouse.
And so!, said Old Gran with an abrupt shout,
Every year sprits of Marcuse’s family do sprout.
And hunt those on hallowed night fest,
To join in their feast and not as a guest.
Little Luther jumped up with a fright!
you hiss under your breath, hoping nobody hears you. It has been a week since
these damned whispers first intruded your thoughts. You welcomed them at first,
after all, you should be coming of age this year and for a Vek, the proud
celestial orc race, such whispers are rare and a sign of greatness. But the
whispers were… unfamiliar, and every time you wanted to tell someone about
them, ask for guidance, something stopped you. You could not really place it,
perhaps it was arrogance, perhaps you did not want help figuring out your coming of age. After all, you knew
of no living Vek who heard whispers at such a young age.
But all attempts to decipher them had been
futile, and the damned whispers would not stop. They had stolen your dreams. You
still do not understand how you can fall asleep with the constant ethereal badgering
but somehow you do, or you think you do. You wake up in the same spot, though
you feel no rest and recall no dream and it has begun to show.
You look around for the shop keep, he doesn’t
seem like he heard anything. Good, all you need is the herbs. The star-walker’s
tea is not commonly consumed by someone so young and inexperienced, especially
not without a guide, but all else had failed and certainly you can handle it, the whispers were a sign.
“Oy, Ruthgar,” the shop keep says, recognizing
you, “you realize you need to sleep to dream right?”.
“Very funny. I wonder how you looked when you
were coming of age” you snap back, all too aware of the dark circles under your
eyes and your haggard look.
“Every Vek follows their own constellation.
Whatever you’re up to is between you and your guide” he says. You just nod and
leave, who could guide you but yourself? The whispers chose you, not any of the
You notice your pace quicken, you are out of
ideas, if this tea doesn’t work… “IT COMES! THEY
COME! FOR US ALL!” you jump, then feel annoyed at being startled by the
screaming lunatic standing by a wall as you approach him. You keep walking
forward, the whispers have not let up and allow you no reprieve. “IT CO…” the
lunatic’s words get caught in his throat, his blind milk-white eyes, a common consequence
of consuming too much star-walker’s tea, seem to follow you. When you reach the
lunatic, his eyes locked to yours somehow, he begins to scream once more “BLOOD!
IT WILL RUN AND WE WILL SEEK IT!”. You realize he is walking behind you now as
if he sees you. Do the whispers feel louder or are you just flustered? The
screaming and the whispers meld together, a deafening cacophony as you start to
run. You can’t make out any words anymore, you need to dream, you need answers,
and you need them now.
You slam the door shut behind you, the whispers
are now as loud as the lunatic’s shouting, a damned tongue you do not know.
Your hands tremble as you reach for the water you had started boiling before
you left. You are losing your composure; you’ve had enough of this. “Damn!” you almost spill your cup pouring
the water and you still need to steep the herbs. You can no longer wait, you
shove a handful of herbs in your mouth, and drink the hot water, swallowing it
all as it scalds your throat on its way down. This is it, insanity or clarity.
You’d welcome either at this point.
The whispers stop. No. Everything has stopped. You
fall, eyes open but when you stand up, you are in a dream.
Foreign yet familiar, you realize you have dreamed
this dream a thousand times before. Each time starting the same: the portal had
failed, you were all doomed but each time you had donned a new mask, a new
weapon, new prey.
You dream it a thousand times again it feels, as
if you were stuck for an eternity… had the tea been too much? Every time you go
through the dream, the same whispers begin to emerge, growing louder and you feel its hold on
your mind tighten a bit more. Another dream, you no longer feel despair as the
gate fails. Another dream, you do not even think about how to escape this world.
Another dream, your purpose is clear: find a weapon and spill blood.
Your features became indistinguishable, no longer
Vek, nor Ren’Kai nor any other blasted race you know. Your eyes are aglow, an
impossibly wide grin, and a thin black film that seems to emanate steam while you
are standing alone, bodies at your feet and a vicious storm closing in on all
sides. You now realize you are looking at yourself from the outside, as the
whispers have gotten louder, you have gotten further and further from your
body. You look at yourself one final time, even in that final moment, your grin
does not waiver.
You wake up, a broken cup beside you as you lay
in the still darkness of the night and nothing else, how long were you
out for? Your mind is blank. No, it is more than
that... it feels as if Ruthgar’s body is being guided and you cautiously observe
what was once yours. You approach the window, the strange glow in the sky somehow
does not come as a surprise, but is met with your knowing expectation. The glow
obscures the stars on which your people rely on for guidance. You already know, somewhere close by, the ancient
portal is swirling and charged with arcane power once more. Your destiny.
Beyond awaits a dangerous world, undisturbed for
millennia: Verra. Beyond awaits the dangers and horrors that drove off your
ancestors, lead to their corruption and death. Beyond the portal are the
Beyond the portal is the whisperer...
It was a beautiful day on the shores of Verra. Smiths were busily working away at their craft, while prodigious enchanters imbued their weapons with marvellous abilities; all to be locked away in beautiful chests should they ever be needed in a time of war. Everything was as normal when suddenly a huge rift appeared in the air and it felt as if the world itself shuddered to a halt for a moment. Soon masses of giant eagles began diving out of the sky bearing demons from another world. As they latched their talons to the ground a insurmountable ring of fire began to wash over the green hills - scorching everything in its wake. The women and children screamed as the thieving devils stole the magical antiquities locked away in their chests, then paused for a moment before forming a band of evil to rival the four riders of the apocalypse. Meteors began thumping the ground for miles as a mysterious bell tolled in the distance. The ever looming threat of the great wall of fire converging upon young and old. There were brutish warriors with great maces. They fell early - supplying others with mana to better use the smiths' creations. There were phantoms - evil ghosts that walked - taking lives as if they were performing for an audience. A strange group of gravity challenged individuals who claimed to be grand-masters roamed the towers. There were rangers with arrows that never seemed to fall in mid air. They fought and bickered like children to see who was the greatest marksman. And at the very end - once all the devastation had been waged - stood a figure so disgusting, so vile, and so pale he may well have been the envoy of Death himself.
But eventually even he, the fetid visage of an ancient land; succumbed to the very horror he had placed on others before him. He watched his life force drain away under the lashes of fire and as the final pieces of his soul vanished back into his wintry void his greatest fear had come true - he saw a handsome and talented loner in the bushes swapping chest pieces to become the victor!
In the land of Verra, there will
always be a nearby lake. If it is a remote lake, the amount of folklore surrounding
it will be legendary. These tales may seem an exaggeration, but then again,
Verra is an extraordinary world.
*Kreater is a Verra expression meaning ‘Before Hell’s
Gate.’ Kreater Lake is a kettle lake, a huge hole
formed by receding glaciers and rainwater. It’s not fed by streams of clean
water, nor does it feed any on the way
out. There is something below to solve that mystery of what feeds the lake, but
no one alive has seen it. The lake was not always so named; it came from a
legend that surrounded it for centuries and it always will.
It is told
that a Py’rai princess named Diawanta met a Kealar fisherman while on her small
boat. They fell in love at first sight. The chief of the Py’rai, forbid his
daughter to see the Kaelar. Still each night, she would paddle out and drift a
note to her lover telling where and when to meet. They were pure of heart and they
were true. Her father chose another mate for her, Lukhetah. He hated all Kaelar but none more than the fisherman. One
day, he floated a note to the fisherman pretending to be from Diawanta. He paddled out in her boat in
disguise. The fisherman met a knife with longing and open arms. It plunged into
his heart six times as he called for his love, Diawanta.
Diawanta paddled the next night to meet her fisherman.
Note after note she would float, but he never came. Lukhetah said that he left her for another. He said that he would
never leave her. He helped her look each day and each night for weeks. When Lukhetah gave up, Diawanta went out alone and never returned. It is said that she is
still looking. Her empty boat was found many moons later, filled only with
As Lukhetah waded to her empty boat in the
shallows, he was grabbed by a dark shadowy figure. The leader and his men, with
all their combined strength, were able to
drag Lukhetah back to safety. Lukhetah
left; he never returned to them or the lake. The shadow still waits for the one
who disguised himself. It waits to take him to the gates of hell.
Each month for centuries, someone is taken. Whether they are fishing, boating
or swimming, if one touches the lake, a dark shadow approaches in those
shallows. The lake has no bottom, of that they are sure. Some get away, some are never touched, while others
are found many moons later in the nearby bay or even on the ocean shores. Each one
found has six stab wounds to their heart.
There have been many, far too many.
Most stay away from the lake, others will tempt their fate, for there is
passage but only for the truly pure of heart.
Young teens will ‘test the waters’ to prove the purity, or in some cases,
to lose it to Kreater.
On such a night, four young Py’rai venture out on small boats. Two girls giggle while two boys snicker their
separate thoughts and their combined fears away. They push the small boats into the ‘Thrill of the Kreater,’ as they call
it. Not every trip onto the lake is met
with foul play. It is that fact that lures the innocent by the hand of the
fearless, to the brink of hell.
Ika sees the water sliding along the boat, she reaches in and catches a
floating leaf and tosses it. She likes
the cool water running over her hand as she pseudo-paddles with her boyfriend.
She looks at the handsome Jaktar as he does the real paddling. He looks back at her in kind. They are in love; well she is. Jaktar is in lust and he is not alone. In the
other boat is Jaktar’s younger brother, Maktus and his date, Ika’s friend Nadyi.
Splashing each other as they go helps them hide their fear and the laughter is
their mask. Jaktar stops paddling. He slides over to Ika and puts his arm
“You know, I Love you, Ika,” He lies.
“Do you, Jaktar?’ She says and hopes.
“Of course.” And he slides his hand around her close.
Matkus yells over, “Are we stopping?”
“We are. Why don’t you find a spot of your own.” Jaktar orders.
“Got it,” Matkus says nervously, “but
not too far, okay?”
“Don’t be afraid, little one.”
Matkus and Nadyi paddle away. Nadyi
slides over next to Matkus. The two boats drift apart and disappear in the
dark. The couples lose sight of each
other. Nadyi feels Matkus hand casually slide
down her back and around her waist.
“Are you nervous, Matkus.” She kids him.
“Yeah, a little. Why?”
“Your hands are cold.” And as she sees him by the moonlight, she realizes his
hands are still in front of him…She screams. But the scream fades quickly as Nadyi
is gone. Gone without even so much as a splash, just a soft tilt of the
boat. She is gone.
Matkus tries to scream, to yell to his brother, but nothing is coming out.
His throat is dry and his muscles are so weak, he can’t even bang a paddle for
an alarm. He looks to the water but
knows not where to jump in, but he does.
Jaktar pulls up to see Matkus surface as Ika screams, “Where is Nadyi!
Where is Nadyi,” she cries into Jaktar’s arms.
So ask yourself as you venture about in Verra, “am I pure of heart?”. The pure of heart have nothing to fear.
may or may not be a true expression on Verra, it was created by the author
Twas late at night, as you moved
through the zone
If you are lucky, there’s a plot
for your home
You look left and right, up, down
But it’s just not to be, there’s no
room to be found
Sad and dejected, you head down the
The growing fog thickens, as if
sensing your pain
Lost in your thoughts, you plan
your next move
Your time in this world has been
anything but smooth
If only you’d had better luck on
Then maybe you wouldn’t be in this
You let out a cry, curse the rules
Just how much more do they think
you can bear
You need some new armor, or maybe a
It’s just that the grind has left
you so bored
Lost in your thoughts, you fail to
The great hulking shape looming
ahead of thee
It turns with a grunt, holding a
board with a nail
A fight now for sure, it’s your end
if you fail
It swings at your head, you dodge
and you duck
Perhaps you can win, you just need
The monster lunges, you’re in its
It’s so much stronger, you’re left
It knows it has won and it laughs
at your fear
“You fool!” it cries, “It’s all pay
to win here!”
As you respawn yet again, you make
a quick wish
If you had your way, your own
gaming studio would exist
You’d make your own game, for all
It be fun yet fair, the best type
As you shake off the dust, you
can’t trust your eyes
A team of developers is before you,
all stunned and surprised
In unison they cry, in well-written
“King Steven! Welcome to your
“We’ll make you the world of Verra,
that your heart so desires
It will be immersive and deep,
we’ll not be made liars
We’re in San Diego, please join us
For this is end of your gaming
The ruined tower was just another black blotch stretching up into the night sky. The jagged terrain and barren, twisted trees made it appear to be resting inside a gaping maw of some beast, ready to clamp down on any foolish enough to approach the ancient site.
Two Vek, garbed in ceremonial robes stumbled down an overgrown path towards the tower. Each wore elaborate half-masks representing eldritch beasts with three eyes. Only one eye contained an opening; the others held precious gemstones set into the sockets. A small, glowing orb of light floating between them served as their sole lantern.
“W-w-why are we out h-here again?” the younger Vek asked, trepidation clear as he fumbled over his words.
“Your out here because you are my apprentice and you do as you’re told!” the older Vek snapped back. He turned just enough to reveal the snarl on his face before turning back towards the path.
Shaken by his master’s unusually cruel retort, the apprentice summoned what courage he could muster and pressed on. The journey was difficult every step of the way as no civilized person of Verra had traveled the path in centuries.
The tower held onto fragments of enchantments cast on it upon construction as much still held together. Vines, as thick as a man’s arm, clung to the tower all around. The door, once a great fortification with elaborate, hand-carved decorations, was now a rotted and fungus covered chunk of wood close to crumbling.
With a few words and a wave of his wand, the master sent waves of fire out before him. The flames roared and blinded the two for a few moments. When the spell ceased, the door stood open, with only wafts of smoke a flickers of burning matter left in their way.
The old wizard seemed invigorated as he grabbed the young Vek’s wrist. The apprentice was yanked violently into the tower, struggling to keep up the pace of his master as they flew up the tower steps.
“Please, master” the apprentice begged “I can’t keep up like this and you are hurting my arm.”
The older Vek stopped abruptly, turned and pushed him down. The younger Vek rolled down a few steps before catching himself, but not swiftly enough to catch his mask as fell off and into the dark below.
“Get your mask and meet me at the top. I won’t suffer your incompetence any longer.” Without hesitation the wizard continued his ascent up the tower with the globe of light in tow.
The young Vek continued to lay slumped on the stairs in the pitched black. What happened to my master. Ever since he found that tome, he has gotten harsh, obsessive. He shouldn’t have kept it. That place was tainted with corruption.
What was that damn spell again? After moments of contemplation, the apprentice uncertainty spit out a few words and a small orb of light appeared by his head. He stood up and made his way unsteadily down the steps.
The slowed pace let him take in the full scene around him. The macabre decor further left him unsettled with his current situation. Statues jutted out from the wall in obscure places, twisting in unnatural poses with disfigured faces - some had extra features, similar to the masks his master created; others had multiple limbs and parts entirely alien to Verran races. Where the hell did my master bring me?!
The base chamber was littered with shattered bones. Holding back his disgust, he searched through the remains for his mask. Just as he placed his hands on it and secured in back over his face, he heard a bone-curdling screech echo through the hollow tower. He froze in place as his heart began bursting in his chest. He tried to hid his ragged, fear-laden breathing.
After several seconds of clenching his eyes shut, waiting to be consumed by some horrid monster, he managed to squint out of the one viable eye. Nothing. After looking in a complete circle, he glanced up and saw a faint speck of light. Master made it to the t-.
The thought was cut short as another round of screeching was followed by a deafening slam that shook him to his core. After pausing to ensure he would maintain his continence, he rushed back up the steps.
The top of the steps held a large metal trap door that was largely rusted through. He had to use every out of his strength just to get it open enough to slip through. Every inch let out that horrid screech.
Standing alone in the center of the tower stood the Vek wizard, gazing up into the night sky. The young Vek bowed his head and whispered “m-m-master?”
The apprentice dared to look up again, meeting the gaze of the wizard. The young Vek cried out. The gems of the mask now contained wicked, glowing eyes that bore into him. Tentacles, hooks and claws began to erupt from the robe and the humanoid shape gave way to some garish creature.
The young Vek dove towards the trap door, but something sunk into the back of his thigh and began dragging him back. He dug his nails in and tried to pull away, but one by one they plucked from his fingers as the supernatural force overwhelmed him.
One final, powerful yank brought the apprentice off his feet. A tentacle wrapped around him and brought him face to face with the thing that used to be his master. A faint echoing voice bounced around inside his head “look up and see what I have seen.”
Tearful… powerless… the apprentice looked up into the starry sky and it opened before him. It was horrifying… it was beautiful… it was consuming.
“Are we too
late?” asked the Orc. She glanced at her telescope but resisted the urge to run
back to it.
hissed the Elf, dropping a large bloody skull into the cauldron. “All things
come to balance in time!”
seemed to grow darker, as if a thick Tulnar blanket was thrown across the
glowing plants below. An eerie green mist began to rise at their feet…
Necromancer sneered with a half grin and stirred the cauldron. “We summon the
spirit of Py’Len with bloody herbs and spices.”
three of the Vaelune Summoners, swaying in the circle of the 13. “Kill or be
killed,” they chanted.
stirred the large black and sticky cauldron again. “And take no prisoners!” he
added, now with a full grin and a wicked laugh. He threw the plants and
mushrooms into the bubbling, murky liquid. It sizzled as a puff of black smoke
rose from the kettle. The acrid smell mixed with the dankness of the cavern and
slithered its way through the air.
the Vek Orc in disgust, “that smells like a Sladeborne’s Den…”
Three of the
Nikua Summoners chuckled. One of them in a gruff voice said, “Alright, let’s
hurry this along. We don’t wanna be stuck down here any longer than we have to
be.” Two of the Dunir Summoners began to
grumble with words of beachcombers and seaweed slingers bouncing around the
take Dunthol’s Hammer and smash your pretty crab shack!” the Dunir with the
longest beard threatened.
Elf continued, “We summon the spirit of Dunthol’s might!” The cave grew quiet
as he dropped in the rock hammer.
urged the Orc, as she once again glanced at the telescope.
Necromancer stopped stirring the pot and looked up at the large opening in the
cavern. The sweet smell of blooming trees fragrant flowers was gone now. “We
summon the wisdom of Velkor. May his eye show us the way…” Suddenly a beam of
moonlight shown down through the opening. A colony of bats swooped and flapped
out of the dark cave; causing the Empyreans and Kaelar to draw their weapons. A
smirk appeared on the face of the Py’Rai. “Nature always has her way.” quoted
the Necro as he stirred the pot once more.
Tulnar in the circle studied the Vaelune in their fancy robes then looked at
the Necro. “Come on, come on… you’re as slow as Khyber’s Camel!” All the
summoners let out a laugh, except for the Vaelune who stood with clenched fists
Necro demanded. “We summon the spirit of Khyber!” The Vaelune focused on the
cauldron like a two-winged hawk on his prey. The Tulnar mumbled something about
Over-realmers as the coins were dropped into the mix.
the Necro. The ground shook as the 13 Summoners began to chant.
Above ground a Ren’Kai, who was focusing
intensely on a Mithril vein, threw down his mining pick and grabbed the reins
of his mule before it ran away.
down into the cavern and shouted, “Hey! What are you weirdos doing down there!”
A blast of smoke and swirling colors knocked him to his feet. He growled as the
rage grew in him, but the chanting grew louder and suddenly the smoke and
swirls came together. Cats howled from the flood plains. Mounts from a distant
Freehold shrieked in the night air. A huge beast suddenly appeared - claws and
fangs and stench. It stomped on the Orc - a sickly, nasty crunching sound.
The summoners shouted from below, “War!” The great
beast roared at the night sky.
Lights in the nearby castle appeared one by
one. The Necromancer smiled.
A long time ago, when the wild was new, and gods still roamed the world, there lived an old man on top of a hill and his name was Giletto. Giletto was the finest woodcarver in all the land and his name was well known all over the world.
But despite his fame, Giletto was very sad, for he had no heir to inherit his trade. He was alone with no wife or children of his own.
On day, while he was sanding a table leg he noticed how much it resembled the arm of a small child and he had an idea. He would carve a boy out of wood then bring it to life to serve as his heir. He would raise him well and teach him his craft until the boy was just as good at woodcarving as him.
It took Giletto 3 months to complete the work, but when he was finished it was a masterpiece. He labored over every detail and every fine line until it was perfect. He had never created such fine work in his life.
When he was done he took the wooden boy to the most powerful sorcerer in his node, but the sorcerer told him he could not bring the boy to life. A mere sorcerer was not powerful enough. He needed the help of a god.
First Giletto went to the Goddess of Love who was moved by his tale. She blessed him and offered to find him a wife, but said she did not have the power to grant life.
Next he went to see the God of Charity in the center of town who offered him wood working tools and a cart to help carry his load, but he could not help him.
Next to the Well of Need stood the Well of Greed, and so he made an offering to Prospero, the God of Wealth. “There are many things money can do, but this is not one of them.” Said Prospero, and so Giletto had to keep searching.
The God of War said he could take a life but not create one.
Finally, Giletto tried the Goddess of Rebirth, Verra. “I will grant you this wish,” she said, “but you will have to burn your creation.” Giletto looked down at his beautiful creation with sadness but agreed. “At the stroke of midnight the raven will crow three times. Throw the boy in the fire and pray.” Said Verra.
Giletto agreed, and at the stroke of midnight he did as she had commanded.
The fire cracked and sparked and the flames turned many colors until finally the wooden boy was destroyed. When the fire died down a small form emerged from the center. It was a small boy covered in ashes. He was just as Giletto had carved him. The fine hair, the smooth skin, the strong arms and legs. He was even more beautiful than the carving.
Giletto’s heart leapt with joy! He picked him up and hugged him and kissed him and took him inside. That night the boy slept next to Giletto in a small bed Giletto had made for him.
But at 3 AM something unexpected happened. The boy rose from his bed and attacked Giletto! First he bit his throat, then tore at his face. It was a savage attack that left Giletto dead, for you see, Giletto had made a fatal mistake when he created the boy. He had carved the boy out of deadwood! The boy was a ZOMBIE!!!
Happy Halloween everybody!!
The hands of Calamity were brushing through the Underrealm
once more. The year is 1287 Post Calamity and the Tulnar face a plague of
disappearances. 109 children missing and only 14 bodies found. Some with blood
still oozing from bite wounds; others impaled on stalagmites.
The Council of Representatives, or the Council, is a group
of leaders elected by the Tulnar to represent the interests of the four
original races and the hundreds of ethnic groups within the Underrealm. They’re
the unifying factor of the diverse Tulnar people.
The Tulnar had taken to story-telling as a way to evade the
ennui of the Underrealm. Slowly, stories morphed into the carriers of their
history and the tools of teaching the young.
Only one is trusted with the responsibility of educating the youth of
life’s dangers - the Chief Story Teller, Fable. He’s a cottontail bard with a
voice deep and passionate as the flame in a smelter’s hearth and an affinity for
the Bhusera – Underrealm cats with crystalline shells and pools of opaque amber
for eyes. In particular one Bhusera had been his companion since childhood,
always accompanying him on his travels throughout the Underrealm.
Unyoris, the ursine village, is the first stop on Fable’s
journey to warn the Tulnar youth. The children are collected in a dark chamber,
excited to hear his stories.
“Children come near. Lend me your ear. Listen well as we
retell the story of how the Calamity befell,” Fable proclaims to the children’s
cheers. He conjures orbs of light that adopt the form of people and buildings,
enacting his tale.
“We once lived on the land above where sunlight kissed our
ancestors’ skin. But then the Calamity struck. Corruption spread across the
land,” Fable pinches the light and blackness seeps out contorting into deformed
creatures and crumbling buildings. “The eight other races fled to Sanctum,
while we sought shelter in the Underrealm. We were safe.” He paused, observing
each child, their eyes wide and mouths agape.
“Or so we thought.
“A century and a half ago the hundred year rain began to
fall. Water touched by the Calamity bore through the rock and formed a lake
here in the Underrealm. Those who drank from it were snared in catastrophe’s
grasp. The tainted came to be called the People of the Rain. The children’s
bodies were too weak to bear the Calamity’s burden and wilted, while the adults
fell under a curse. Some grew mad and their hysteria drove them into wild
Bhusera dens. Their corpses were picked clean. Others took to the knife. Families
were slaughtered and hung in village centres.
Many didn’t show signs of corruption until years after the lake dried to
bone. One woman, who gave birth to her
first child thirty years later, upon holding her new-born baby, clawed his
right eye out before she could be restrained and incarcerated with the tainted.”
The light forms a baby’s head. A hand creeps towards the face and punctures the
eye. As it pulls away scarlet light spills onto the ground and the eye
deflates, sliding off the fingers onto the floor. The children scream.
“Now we fear that another who was touched by the Rain may be
on the loose. Children have been vanishing like smoke. We’ve been finding their
bodies…” Fable casts the light so that mirror images of the children before him
are strewn about the room, marred by bite wounds or pierced by hooks in the
“There’s danger in this world. You need to know who you can
trust, and who you can’t. For making the mistake once can cost you your life.”
At this Fable scratches the chin of his Bhusera. It smiles, revealing the
absence of one of its canines. He casts the light to fill the room.
“Children, tell me what you have learned today,” Fable opens
his arms with a flourish. They begin squeaking inaudible replies. With a
sluggish crescendo they answer, “The world’s not safe! Don’t go near wild
animals! Only speak to those you trust!” The last one caught Fable’s attention,
“Yes. Now who can you trust?” The children pipe up immediately, some colour
returning to their cheeks, “Mommy and Daddy! The village chiefs! The Council
“Good choice,” Fable draws the words out as a smile etches
onto his face. He casts a spell with a wave of his hand. From the ground behind
the children rises a mimic of each and every child. In his mind he issues the
command ‘go home, little children.’ Before the children can react, the mimics
leave and place a magic seal on the door. Fable is not only a bard, but a
summoner. From his cloak he pulls a dagger made from his Bhusera’s canine. With
a single stroke he combs the locks from his right eye, uncovering the scars
that mark a gouged socket. Scars that were
the first and final mark of the only family he ever had. A dagger wrought from
the tooth of the only friend he ever had. The dagger that carved the last
moments of 109 young lives.
He’d watched the children throughout his performance and the
mimics would behave just as the children would. In three days the mimics would
dissipate into obscurity, awaiting their rematerialisation from beneath the
summoner’s veil. By then his visit to Unyoris would be but a memory, and Fable
would have attended two more villages.
No one realised that through the water of the womb Calamity
had also tainted those born to the People of the Rain.
No one realised that through the water of the womb Calamity
had also tainted those born to the People of the Rain.
This is an old Tulnar tale, from before the great calamity. The great calamity destroyed the world of Verra, a hideous corruption twisted and mutilated nature's beauty. The only place spared was the Underrealm, but it was not due to chance. This story is one that even "the forgotten" have lost.
You see, before the bio-luminescent environment you know, there was darkness. But even in that darkness there was life. Life that had no place alongside the Tulnar. If one was to survive, the other had to be removed. But the Underrealm was alive, and it bore witness to its children being slaughtered under its protection. It was so angered by the attack it flared up with a never-ending light to always illuminate the faces of the murderous Tulnar people. For as long as it would live, no creature would ever get rest again in its domain. But the Tulnar people adapted, and built structures to block out the light. Insulted once more, the Underrealm wove its energy into the corpses under its dirt, and sent them to kidnap and kill the intruders. Alas the creatures were unable to drive off the Tulnar, and civilization flourished.
But the Underrealm is smart, and to this day very much still alive...It waits for us to forget, to be complacent. There have been times when parties of adventurers reported sounds coming from below ground. Entire groups suddenly disappearing when everything goes dark. Forgotten monsters hide under the surface, dragging unsuspecting travelers under to feed on their life force. Remember, the Underrealm is alive and scheming, so be on guard, and most alert when you hear nothing.
Entry: "The Mountain Spring Inn"
Derek, I witnessed my 15th winter this year and have been
studying wizardry for more than 10 years now. Only few Kaelar get
chosen to study at the White Citadel, where Verra's most esteemed
archwizards teach their knowledge to worthy heirs.
late autumn when Initiate Trormund informs my class that we are going
on an expedition to investigate a local village. Trormund has been
responsible for us for four years now, for a Dünir he is a good
teacher, he pushes us to our limit any chance he gets, but that only
made us grow stronger. I have two classmates, the empyrean twins
Eliya and Dariel, Dariel is never far from his sister, he thinks he
is her protector, never to leave her side, honestly, it's creeping me
out a little. Eliya on the other hand is a true rebel and always
ready cause trouble, once she suddenly kissed me in the library, of
course Dariel was not far. We got into a fight right there, I'm sure
we would have ruined dozens of priceless books if Trormund wouldn't
have pinned us to the floor with a gravity spell – Oh, Eliya, why
are you this beautiful? Dariel and I have been enemies ever since.
four of us made our way towards the village, the second day of our
journey is about to end as we reach a little inn right beside the
road, 'The Mountain Spring', excited to spend the night sleeping in a
real bed, I beg Initiate Trormund to consider staying the night
there, Eliya backs me up instantly with her brother following suit
shortly after – of course. Trormund furrowing his bushy brows
answers: 'Mhh - time fo' dinner, we'll have it at the inn and
conside' renting rooms. Behave you'selves.'
those words we enter the Mountain Spring, it was tiny indeed, two
tables to our left, one to our right with a tiny bar and presumably a
storage place across the room and a ladder leading to the second
floor of the building. Judging by the size, there could be no more
than two rooms upstairs, we would have to share. The smell of freshly
cooked meat stew along with a note of bitter sweet ale and the
uncomfortable stench of puke hang in the air – seriously open a
window! As I take a look around I only notice one person in the inn,
a dark haired dwarf, black as the nightfall spell and tattoos all
over his face. He stares right into my eyes and slowly starts
grinning. A shiver runs down my spine – this guy is so creepy!
friend! We're lookin' fo' a place to eat and stay the night, at a
fai' price, of cou'se.' Trormund says. The inn keeper answers in a
low voice: 'five silver for stew, ale and a room, you'll leave at
first light.' Our teacher nods to this, a fair price after all, he
hands five silver coins to the inn keeper and gets four bowls and
four mugs in return. Shortly after both get filled, the meat stew is
as amazing as it smelled with fresh meat, carrots, onions, potatoes,
beans and several delicious spices mixed together. I devour the
entire bowl, soak the last remains up with a slice of bread and flush
it down with some strong, dark, yet somehow sweet tasting ale –
what a great evening! We talk for a while, then Trormund sends us up
to our room, so we could rest. He would follow after just two or
three more drinks.
room is barely enough to fit four people, no beds, no closets. Just
an empty room with some straw and animal pelts lying around to make
it somewhat comfortable. Well, it's still an improvement to the
forest ground, I guess. Slowly I fall asleep with the thought of
Eliya sleeping only a few inches away.
hand reaches out and roughly shakes me awake, 'Wake up! Something is
wrong!', it was Dariel. I blink away the sleepiness and rub my head,
a headache, too much ale last night. 'What's going on?', I ask, but
get no answer. Dariel is already at the door listening and looking
through the keyhole. In the corner Eliya is cowering and hugging her
blanket tightly, she's crying. 'What happened?', I ask again, this
time Dariel looks up an says: 'There's been noises downstairs, it
sounded like fighting and then something started howling.' I never
saw him that frightened before, I walk over to where Dariel is
crouching, 'Do you see something?', I ask. He answers without moving
his head: 'There's a stra -'
explosion of wood fragments erupts as a pitch black claw rips the
keyhole apart and punches through Dariel's skull, a red liquid
streaming over the floor. To my right I hear glass shattering, it's
Eliya jumping out of the window. I have to flee! I quickly chant a
spell, 'blink', I'm on the bottom floor now and run for the door,
it's locked. I scan my surroundings and discover a ripped-of arm
holding a wand near me, that's Trormund's, but where's the rest of
him? I take the wand from his lifeless limb and use it to destroy the
lock. As I run outside, I see Eliya lying in the grass, her head
facing a direction it is not supposed to. I take off into a frenzied
sprint until I can't take another step, the only sound I hear is my
troubled exhausted breathing.
mindlessly walk the road for several days without stopping, I made it
to the Citadel's main entrance, the thoughts of my dead comrades
still fresh in my mind, when I hear a shout: 'Derek, you took your
time!' It was Eliya, no mistaking her, even as her beautiful blonde
hair is now black – dark as the nightfall spell. My vision blurs as
I lose grip of my consciousness and begin to slip away...
Entry: Horror of the Underrealm
Lokim, dared by his friends ventured to the underrealm, made
his way past the entrance. It had been
blocked off of course but being as small as he is, was able to squeeze between
the boards used to block it off.
“Stories say that there are monsters that live in the caves under the
city but those are just stories right” thought Lokim as he made it further into
the darkness. Soon the darkness reached
the point where he couldn’t see anything at all and the only sounds he could
hear was the blood rushing in his ears.
Beginning to panic Lokim decided he would just chicken out and go back
turning around he realized he wasn’t sure how to get back he started walking
faster and faster panicking more and more moving franticly he reached a dead
end running into the wall and falling to his bottom… “this wasn’t here before” he thought. Moving his hands across the walls until they
reached empty air he was able to find a way hopefully back to the surface. After 30 minutes of walking he began to
realize he should already be at the surface, he rounded a corner and he saw the
first light he had seen in what felt like hours.
He ran towards he light coming around another corner,
excited to finally be out of the cave he rounded the final corner to his solace
only to have it ripped away. He found
light, but it was not the light of the moon, instead he found the eerie glow
coming from mushrooms as tall as trees and moss growing on the ceiling casting
the ground in dark shadows where the light is being blocked from the
mushrooms. Beginning to turn around
Lokim heard a sound coming from the way he came. Panicking he made his way into the darkness
of one of the tree sized mushrooms and hid the best he could. Coming from where he just came were alien creatures
he had never seen before. Crouching
further down as to not be seen Lokim heard a whisper like the clacking of bone
coming from right beside his ear “dddinnnerr”.
A gnarled old Dwarf
leans back from a camp fire surrounded by young Dwarf children, and that kids
is why we have bordered up the old caves above the town. Lokim has never been seen again on the surface of Verra.
Forum Username: Santy182
It was a dark, stormy night.
-Why have the gods forsaken us?
Thought Kali grabbing her chest with one
hand, while, trying to muffle the sound of her sobbing little sister Elin with
the other hand. Not that she needed to. The thunderous storm outside their
hiding place was loud enough to do the job.
The two young elven sisters sat there in
this damp, dark hole, Hiding. They did not know from what. She had only
questions. Nobody knew what was going on. The world they once knew suddenly
changed and now they could only ask. What kind of horrors would try to kill
them this time? How long has it been since Verra’s corruption started? Where did
it come from? Why did the Gods and Heroes do nothing to stop it? Why is
everyone except Elin trying to kill me? Disoriented, cold and desperate, Kali
couldn’t remember or understand much of what was going on.
All she knew was that everything that moved
was trying to kill her, except her sweet little sister. And that she needed to
reach Sanctus. To do that, her plan was to head west until reaching the western
Great divine gateway and flee to Sanctus.
She passed out while rocking her sister to
sleep. When suddenly a tremor shook the ground. This time much harder than all
the tremors that came before.
Startled she woke up and peeked her head
outside the hole to see what was going on. To her horror she saw the ground swallowing up
a city, just north and down the hill from where they were hidden, the screams
of terror and despair of the people trapped inside the collapsing homes sent
chills down her spine. Kali shook her sister awake, and both jumped out of the
hole, ready to escape. But then another tremor shook them to the ground and
they got to see most of the city being swallowed by Verra herself.
With a thunderous roar a Giant golem
erupted from underground chewing on the city’s buildings like they were snacks,
and, with it, out of the fissures, corrupted monsters started pouring out like
vermin. They ripped remaining people apart and started to destroy the remaining
A group of monsters noticed them standing,
paralyzed atop the hill and with not so much of a snarl started running towards
the sisters. These monsters had something in their eyes that could only be
interpreted as bloodthirst.
Kali grabbed Elin’s hand and started to run
west into the forest. This is it. Kali thought this world has no saving now
there is only Sanctus. It was just past dawn, they were so close, Kali could feel
the magic emanating from the gateway getting closer, but it was still dark, because
of the rainfall. They could barely see ahead of them even with their elven eyes,
the roar of the monsters behind them growing ever closer.
When suddenly a clear in the forest appeared
in front of them and they noticed an old Human standing in the middle, they
yelled and tried to tell him to run, he looked at them with a confused, yet familiar
stare, and instead of running he took out a book from his utility belt, the
sisters stopped running to try and convince him to escape before the monsters
got here, but instead a meteor spawned above them and almost crushes them.
-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!
Asked Kali confused, and then she remembered,
oh no, the corruption has gotten to him.
The meteors kept spawning and crashing down
as he tried to aim for the sisters in a mad haze They just dodged, rolled and
in the end, took off running, in different directions doing serpentine motions
every elf for herself, they got separated.
Kali managed to escape, but now all she
could do was hope that Elin would catch up with her around the gateway. So, she
kept running west without looking back. When she finally got out of the forest
she could see it. The gateway was there far in the distance but visible, and it
was active, she could see thousands of people going through it. Escaping this
now mangled world.
As Kali started absentmindedly walking
towards the gateway she didn’t notice she was standing atop a hill and fell
rolling downhill when she came to. Her sister Elin, was in front of her,
staring into her eyes. Kali noted something was off but didn’t care so she
smiled and said.
-Elin! It’s you!
Kali got up to hug her sister when she felt
a sharp pain radiating from her arms. She turned and noticed her arms were not
there. Terrified she turned to her sister to see her with a creepy smile across
her face, a knife in her hand and a look that she now recognized as the same
bloodthirsty look the monsters and that human had before. Elin continued
stabbing Kali until everything went cold and black for her…
-Nobody is safe from this corruption that
turns your own family into bloodthirsty monsters.
The last thought Kali had as life left her
Entry: The final portal
The sound of wand attacks caused Tinge to dive down the hill and become a bush. This was not magic she had trained to use; but this year while trying to stop her mother Tinge had learned some things.
Her father, a High Priest of the Empyrean, warned her there was no time to secure what her Necromancer mother had stolen, but Tinge was determined to bring the family heirloom with her to Sanctus.
“You must reach the Divine Gate by midnight three days from now,” were her father’s last words. “The corruption draws close and my magic won’t be able to keep the portal open and I must make the trip.”
Catching the putrid stench of three zombies shambling by, Tinge looked at the moon.
“Only a few hours till midnight” she said checking to ensure both daggers were secured on her belt. Sneaking into her mother’s camp and stealing the daggers was a story worth telling, getting to island was going to be legendary.
She may not have been a graduated cleric, but she knew enough as a Cultist to have insight. Reaching into her pocket for a stone she threw it into the woods and watched the undead shuffled after the sound. When the zombies went on their way, Tinge made her way along the river to the shoreline. She knew where the island was and could have found it in the dark. Being a failed Cleric student turned Rogue did have its advantages, she knew all about the magic that Necromancers used.
Behind her, she felt the pull of corruption. Looking up at the sky she saw a ribbon of red flame touching the sky as a wall of crimson flowed to the ground consuming everything in its wake.
“Midnight my ass. Thanks Dad” she spat as she picked up her pace. Makial, her bodyguard and long time friend, was waiting just a little further up the coast with a boat. What should have been a rogue’s blessing in the form of a pitch black sky was turning into quite a nightmare as the red flames threw bright illumination everywhere. As she approached the boat, the smell of blood and rot lingered in the air.
“Makial are you,” before she could finish the question the walking corpse turned to greet her with a grin. His throat had been torn open and his head was barely attached. As he lunged for her, she drew her blades and removed the hand at the elbow. Vaulting backwards she looked at one of the blades glowing bright red, a shade that matched the color of the corrupted sky. Looking around she noticed a horde of zombies and ghouls making their way in her direction. She wasn’t sure if they were headed towards her or just away from the corruption, but they were too many to fight alone.
Looking down at her other blade, the one she had owned originally before he mother had stolen it, she saw it glowed a soft blue. From the blade she heard her father’s voice whisper “Nor-thar i nen.” As she turned to the water she could see ice forming along the surface just wide enough for her and just thick enough for the nimble feet of a rogue.
Racing across the water, even the long dead began to protest the coming of the corruption. Corpses buried at sea came to the surface and grasped at her ankles. There were several occasions where she thought she was going to be pulled into the water but she managed to keep her balance.
She made it to the deep water and the corpses disappeared. The storm having reached the shore now cast a glow across the water that made the island ahead look like it was floating in blood. Even the blue shine from the divine gate did little combat the red glow; although there was clearly defined border between the good left in Vera and the evil coming to consume all.
As she reached the shore she saw four figures, where there should have been five. Had she finished her training, had she become a Cleric she should have been here keeping the gate open till the last minute.
She laughed, “If I had finished my training they wouldn’t be here waiting for me.”
“Come daughter, there is no time.”
Her three siblings retreated into the portal as she reached her father’s side.
“Not without me I hope dear husband” hissed a voice from the shadows.
As they turned a figured emerged from wisps of smoke. Her face, unmistakably Tinge’s mother but spoiled by the corruption from pursuing the dark arts.
“You will not enter this gate” the High Priest said firmly moving himself in between his daughter and wife.
Looking over her shoulder and outstretching a hand, the Necromancer summoned half a dozen twisted creatures. Behind them, the corruption storm was drawing closer.
“Father let’s go.”
“No Tinge. We must protect this gateway until the very last moment. We cannot allow your mother to bring corruption to Sanctus. Quickly, give me your mother’s blade.”
As the six creatures rambled closer to them, Tinge lunged forward and cut two of them down in swift order. As she moved to confront the next opponent, she saw her father step in front of her palm outstretched.
Before she could react, her father’s white magic threw her into the portal. Barely clinging to Vera she reached out her hand to her father.
“Come with me”
Over his shoulder he smiled down at her “I must protect this portal, for my daughter”
Watching him do something she had only seen once before, he invoked the name of his Diety and took on his angelic form. The remaining shambling creatures cowered in fear.
As he turned a single pop was heard. Red mist sprayed as his head fell to the ground. Tinge watched her mother reached into the portal as she was pulled to Santus.
Did corruption come through too?
It was a beautiful late Fall morning. I opened the
windows and saw that the sun was shining brightly and the pumpkin patch was
ready to tour to find just the right one for my carving. The town’s Hallows Eve
display and festivities was tonight! I hurriedly dressed and ran into the kitchen
for a quick bite. As a bonus, I planned
to make the most delicious pumpkin pie too!
Our family established its freehold on Verra out near
the swamps to be near all the specialty herbs, so I always carried my spell
book with me for safety. As I approached the garden, it seemed a bit too quiet
for such a beautiful morning, but I did not give it another thought. I was in a
very happy relaxed mood. I traveled up and down the garden rows, and just as
I passed a gigantic pumpkin, I spotted
the perfect one to carve. It seemed to
smile and say ‘pick me!!”. I reached
down for a closer view and to my horror, the pumpkin was not at all what it
seemed. It whip-lashed away and was
replaced by a huge gaping jaw filled with razor sharp teeth of one of the swamp
beasties. As It lunged at me, I stumbled and fell backwards in shock and the
little beastie’s teeth sank deeply into a pumpkin sitting at my left shoulder!
It gnashed and twisted to break free of a mouth full of pulp and seeds just
long enough for me to draw up my spell book and toast it with a lightening
bolt! Whew, that was a close one. Now I will not only have a wonderful pumpkin
pie tonight, I will have some delicious Roasted Spiced Swamp Beastie to go with