Evil intentions

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Post by RonnyG » Sun Jun 17, 2018 8:32 pm

Evil intentions

Hidden away from sight, a lone mage uses a ritual to musters the magic needed to achieve telepathic connection, or at the very least, to send a message. Whispers fill the room.

They are trapped. Let their numbers flourish. Bring madness.

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Post by Tenebrous » Sun Jun 17, 2018 9:33 pm

Re: Evil intentions

Silently the elf watched as the old man hurried into the darkness. He need not know his success just yet, the elf would satisfy his curiosity first.

Peering cautiously through a window the elf smirks with delight. Mas never lasts long enough and yet here hidden in a humble barn the old man had preserved a little of that terror. Raising his hand the elf wastes no time in nurturing new progeny.

Lifting the latch on the barn door the elf released terror into the night, crossing fields and swarming over the bridge into the forests. Runewick would be surrounded.

How amusing the timid scrap that had appeared little more than a servant showed more loyalty and determination than any of them.
Perhaps this one should be rewarded. Could it be time he took an apprentice?

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Post by Amira Ranevskaya » Mon Jun 18, 2018 4:55 am

Re: Evil intentions

Amira rested her arms on the edge of the golden bridge and gazed out towards the fields. Oh the horrors that have befallen Runewick in the past few years. Fiery columns. An out of control forest complete with elf eating plants. And now? Now they had three-eyed dragons patrolling their fields.

What luck. Had she not known any better, she would have thought Runewick to be cursed. Hardly. This curse was Runewicks own making. After all, what did those who run the town care? The guard was essentially non-existent and she hadn’t seen a Ranger in months. Not to mention that the ruling organization refused to do anything that didn’t immediately benefit them. They were never seen in town and even those she did see rarely spoke to her.

She snorted, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and turning towards town. It mattered not. If it were to suddenly be considered a problem, the Dean would simply call his dogs from Cadomyr and have them dispatch the issue for him. Besides, she had work to do, and solving Runewicks problems for them were not high on the list.

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Post by Kugar » Tue Jun 26, 2018 5:31 pm

Re: Evil intentions

It was from the comfortable peak of Pauldron mountain and through an ice cold glare viewed by his bloodshot, cataract spoiled eyes that the monster known as Gray cast hasty judgment over the ever perilous world of Illarion.

"Illarion is dying... Praise be, the prophecy proclaimed it so!"

Drawing the shape of a diamond in the wind before him with his gore soaked partisan, the pale, skeletal creature with the sagging, boil ridden skin exhaled a crooked cackle beneath his breath.

"These fools! They have allowed their incompetent weak of mind cretins to wreak havok on their destiny, erasing any slither of hope at retribution or majesty!"

The cackle soon grew to a wild crescendo, belching a deep, bile gargled laughter. Spewing his hatred from the top of the mountain, Gray raises his partisan with a sense of triumph.

"Charlatans broken to pieces! Hiding in their own stupid heads from the answers they require! They shall never recover... NEVER! Aaaaarghahaha!"

Spinning the partisan swiftly to plant the spike harshly into the mountain top, Gray's laughter came to a halt.

"Mortals be damned... The water shall turn to lava and the air cloud with smoke. Flesh falls from bones and mortals shall be left without hope."

As the mummified workers continued their tasks around him, the Gray lord continued to watch with judgment over the land. The monster wasn't dead, nor did his hatred cease. Not by a long haul.

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Post by Kugar » Fri Jun 29, 2018 11:13 pm

March of the diamonds

A hooded bone-servant approaches Gray by the altar of Bjolmur and relays the information of the mortals warning each other of his sighting in the Necktie tavern. Retracting each bony finger of his left open-palm to crack each knuckle in succession, the undead lord snaps shut his decaying teeth.

"I should have smashed his teeth in and ripped his heart from out of his mouth when I had the chance! Smeared his crimson vein paint across his arrogant face to blemish a mask with which he can hide eternally from the suffering I shall inflict upon him!"

Slamming his clenched fists onto Bjolmur's altar in rapid succession before drawing his face an inch from its structure, Gray yelled a foul curse in the dwarf, Drugar Stonesmasher's, name.

"Unworthy creature! I shall make this one scream for his release! Aaaarghahaha! An army! A diamond army! This is what I shall release upon his infernal abode!"

Jolting his undead body upright once more, Gray swiped for the bone-servant's head to draw it close to a clinking black sack that he hung from his belt.

"There are greater treasures than coins to be made from the shining stones of gods, dear bone-head!"

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