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Posted: **Wed Aug 09, 2006 8:53 am**

Stephen stood atop the battlements of the Northern Gatehouse of Trolls Bane, his loyal town guards moved in force now along the streets of the city for the inevitable attack, be it from the Grey Rose from the North sweeping south or from Negros to the west. It did not matter, Stephen was ready for all of them now. Some had called it "Hubris" that was giving Stephen the notion he could defeat anything that came at him or his people; those people knew nothing of how long Stephen had been preparing for this.

Stephen had spent months of sweat and thousands of silvers and hours training the military of Trolls Bane for these battles to come. He had spent months hand picking and training every single warrior, ensuring they would always be several notches better then the men in any other town. Ensuring they would always carry the greatest weapons and armor of war, far out matching those whom would seek to contain him. He had restructed Trolls Bane so it was far more fortified then every before. He knew in his heart his men were prepared to stare down any army that dare try to march onto their lands now, confident in their armor and in their training.

Stephen ruled and controlled Silverbrand now and forever more, he had taken the first step in forging his Kingdom. He had conquered easily Silverbrand, squashing its few dwarven warriors that were left, the last remnant of the pride and glory Silverbrand once held, Stephen had destroyed with ease. Placing the Knighthood as a garrison there, to ensure the place was kept stable and capible of repelling any attack mounted by the inevitable resistance that would be hastily and inadequately equipped to challenge what Stephen had spent months building.

Stephen would do the same to Silverbrand he had done to Trolls Bane, he would mold it and rebuild it in an image of his liking. Like a phoenix out of the ashes Silverbrand would be a power once more, where dwarves and surface dwellers would work hand in hand, mining and smithing, building weapons and armor, steel doors and fortifications. Stephen would bring Silverbrand an economy, relative freedom and glory, and the dwarves whom never cared for Ghorn because of his failure to do what he promise, will love Stephen for it. Stephen's mouth watered at the prospect.

Stephen let his lips part to form into a smile. Oh the irony, how Ghorn had thought he had beaten Stephen because no other towns would declare war on Silverbrand with Trolls Bane, and look now, oh how quickly Silverbrand fell to the steel fist of Trolls Bane. And it was not the last, oh no, Stephen's Kingdom would be the greatest the isle of Gobiath had ever seen, and none of them could stop him anymore.

Posted: **Wed Aug 09, 2006 11:33 am**

Nerian spent the whole night at the shrine of Malachín, speaking to his god in a nearly eternal prayer. The visions he had the last nights, showed him the truth and he knew, that the black wolf was with him and the order of the Grey Rose. Too much blood has been spread over the island, to satisfy the bloodthirst of the "Governor". He thought, that Malachín would be the one in who's name his actions have been done. Instead he summoned his wrath with his honourless deeds.

Too long the Grey Rose has been watching this insane man provoking more war and destruction. Too long the black wolf's patience has been tested. Now the hour shall come, to bring new justice on this island.

Posted: **Wed Aug 09, 2006 2:32 pm**

It's been said, that a boy that strikes fear into so many, can be seen, walking through the streets, a wicked double axe on his back. His head is drooped and his uncovered eye is only visible to the people who pass directly by them. They say that they can feel that he is thinking. This blue haired demon is Taylor Windslasher.

I walk these streets in hope of one day that Captain will return. No longer a guard..but i still stay loyal to him. Why? I fight to protect them. Revlen can hold his own, And captain can best me. But Allura, Maggie..all of them, They can not hold thier own. The dwarves think i side with stephen over a simple warning to them. What spineless cowards. They attacked innocents before, it would happen again had I not warned that pathetic weakling Thurbert.

Stephen. What has gone so horribly wrong? This is not our gods way, This is not Malachin's way. This is the path of Demons. Aye, this is the path to darkness. You are no longer worthy of wielding the blade you carry. I pray to malachin he takes it away from you for all the things you have done wrong. You are no follower of Malachin. He loves the hunt, not the slaughter. Your mind is set in a time no longer achievable. How your feeble mind has been twisted by pure greed. Your son is more fit to wield the blade than you, and I don't trust him one bit.

Mairead, I once said i had planed on never killing anyone. But I do realize now, that in some cases, to kill, is to protect. I will see you once more my dear, That I can promise.

Captain, you must come back. Stephen has stepped out of his place in your absence. After you left, he rid himself of the last opposition in the government, Myself. You must come and set him straight before he truely shatters a soul, Or allows his to be consumed by greed and Malice.

Malachin, you entrusted your will and blade into the wrong person. He thinks that you are upon his side, no matter what crime against your will he creates. I, The Lone Wolf, know that you are one for the hunt, and one for pride and honor that comes with that. So why choose such an unworthy candidate? He steals, lies, slaughters..Atleast show me to why you chose him. I also ask you to give me your strength and will, To protect the precious few friends I have left. Watch over them. I will do my best to protect them, I feel my hands itch for the hunt of the man that tries to harm them. My blood boils, my joints ache thinking of what i would do, and that I can not, as none have yet. Let them come. I will cut them all down. No god could stop the punishment i will rain down on anyone that tries.

It is said, That during the night, This same boy's eyes, have a different look. The look is said to be dangerous, demonic, and downright erie. His eyes carry no love or compassion. They are cold and void, and only a few people may know why.

Posted: **Wed Aug 09, 2006 3:36 pm**

Thurbert sat by the fountain of Varshikar, defeated, his view dull and staring into a void infront of him.
So little time has changed so much. Not much time has passed since he was appointed Chancellor by King Ghorn, in an attempt to lift the burden he had to carry as a king, and to look after some of the lesser important tasks, so Ghorn could concentrate more on the more important tasks of government.

He wanted to make a difference, finally attract more dwarves to Silverbrand and ensure those already there to stick around more often.
He wanted to open Silverbrand slightly to finally shake off the image of the dwarves being cold and selfish, only caring for what happened behind their own walls, and he deemed religion to be the right way for this.

Mutual prayers by craftsmen and dwarves to the Worldsmith and Patron of crafts, Irmorom were his plan to make it possible for other races to get to know Silverbrand, their beliefs and deliver an insight into dwarven culture. Furthermore it was planned to remind the dwarves of the link among them, a link established by the creation of dwarves by Irmorom himself.

How could've Rothman do this? This man knew no honor anymore, he never knew that word. He avenged his own crushed self esteem which was broken by a pack of lawless who did not jump to his call,
by smoking out a hall full of dwarves that had nothing to do with it.
He could still see the amusement shown in Rothmans face as he stood in the gate, about to wreck havoc upon those present, before he started to fight. No demon could do deeds as vicious as this, and they did not stand a chance, they were defeated and Thurbert thought it was over.

Thurbert sighs and strokes over his burned face absentmindedly. The wounds would heal, but the pain in his heart remained.

So many frightened faces.. so many new dwarves that got hurt. Some of which he did not even get to know, and he was not sure where they were now. They came to pray but they stood to get cut down by the axe of a madman.

He would take the fate of dwarves into his hands he said. No mortal could do that, only Irmorom was to decide about what to happen to them.
Every word, every taunt struck right into Thurberts heart. This man insulted both dwarves and gods alike and there was nothing he could do about it.
And Irmorom remained silent.
He erected a sign of warning in Trollsbane, hammer anvil and fire to point out the injustice and desecration of his temple. But nothing more happened.

He frowned and said "Send me a sign about what to do..." looking into the high heavens.

And in response, the clouds grew darker and darker and a storm broke loose, of a kind Thurbert haven't seen before in his life. He sighed, this was not the sign he was looking for, it was futile, everything was futile, this man couldn't be stopped.

He just stared upwards, empty and powerless.. asking just one question:
What to do now?

The rain washed down over his face and soaked his hair, beard and the rest of his clothes as the storm grew stronger and stronger.
Yet he was not scared nor did he care to think about seeking cover.
It was all the same anyway. What would it matter if he was struck down by lightning now, there was nothing he could do anyway.
The town defeated, the few dwarven warriors dispersed and although he already tried to comfort other dwarves, saying they would strike back, he knew he betrayed his own heart with this.

"Irmorom help us.. help us.. please... send something to aid and help your creation!" Thurbert sighed once more, nothing.

He did not care, the god who was the reason and meaning of his life had abandoned him. He did not feel nor hear anything anymore, nothing, all was over.

The rain stopped but he remained to stare upwards, not taking notice of anything around.

He did not notice another dwarf coming to Varshikar, rather excited. The other dwarf had to push him off his chair to make him listen.

"I... listened... Silverbrand... Arameh... their plans.."

Something changed. Thurbert was curious again. And the more he listened and listened, the more meaning and purpose seemed to have flown back into his body. That was just the message he waited for, the sign Irmorom had to show to help them against Rothman.

After the talk Thurbert stood up. He still felt weak and tired but he did not care. There was much to prepare, more people to meet and even more messages to write. He thanked Irmorom and headed to work right away.

Posted: **Thu Aug 10, 2006 11:54 am**

-Blasphemy! Stephen Rothman the Tyrant is commiting Blasphemy infront of the gods -

Stephen smiled to himself as he stood on the roof of the library in solitude, away from the petty theives or bandits whom didn't know when they were beaten. He stood in a form fitting black suit: boots, trousers, tunic and gloves. Kallahorn rested at his belt and the sun was slowly rising over the mountains of Varshikar.

How little did they know of the gods if they thought what Stephen did was blasphemy. It was quite visible to Stephen that none of them stopped to ponder the actions of the gods, like he had done some weeks prior. He had been at this very spot on the library wondering why Malachin refused to aid him in his then struggling war with the Temple. He prayed and worshipped for a sign, for a reason.

But no reason or sign would come and slowly it began to make sense. Why did the gods never intervene when the people of Gobiath needed them desperately? Because the gods did not care for petty wars or individuals. Their eyes did not look to specific people or even nations, their eyes went far larger and after all, Gobiath was quite a small place.

And while supposed priests of Malachin and Irmorom condemned Stephen and his men for their battles and conquests, Stephen would only smile at their iggnorance. Nerian was good hearted but inexperienced, he had read books about the gods and thought he conversed with Malachin, but no, Malachin would not watch or care for someone who only prayed and tried to talk to him. Nor would Irmorom care to speak to dwarves whom lacked any mentionable crafting skill.

The Gods cared for those who put actions behind their faith. Malachin was a warrior, not a tree hugging peaceful old man like some wished to see him. Malachin fought and killed in battle, after all, what did everyone think the "glorious battles" were going to involve? Killing, constant bloodshed. This did not include mindless bloodshed like Moshran, to kill anything and everything no, this included challenge, this included sport. And Stephen was having sport.

Oh yes, and soon he would be having far more sport. So let them call him a blasphemer, it would change nothing. He knew where he stood.

Posted: **Thu Aug 10, 2006 1:22 pm**

The Blue hair demon that rumors say Galthran made Captain of the Guard wanders around the north gate house roof, pacing, thinking. Anyone that walks up the stairs gets a frightening gaze comperable to the Gaze of Moshran himself, or one would think.

Why...Why did this have to happen. I wanted no part in this. Why did they involve defenseless citizens. WHY DAMNIT. He knew how to push me..He knew my weakness, he exploited it. That bastard. A bandit is a Bandit. Just as my hands will be used as a fighter. A fighter is a fighter, till the day he departs from this world.

All the gods in this world. Bad, good, It does not matter to me. There is a darkness in my heart, One that exists in all hearts created by you. You put it there, knowing that one day that person would have to unleash it. Mairead was teaching me about you all, before she left. I call upon you all now for your aid. I will allow this darkness in my heart to consume me. This darkness that will help me save my friends, and let me see Mairead. Let it be known, All of you. You will help me. If you harm one of my friends, in any way shape and form, I will not stop untill you are dead. Even if it means my soul shall be restless. This is the darkness in my heart. My means of protecting the ones I love, The ones I care about. I made a promise to two people. That I would protect, with any means neccisary, using every ounce of my being. I made this promise to Mairead and Revlen. Now I make it to you. I do not care which of you hears my plea. Be it Moshran or Elara. It does not matter. My heart is made of Darkness and Sunlight. Though I walk in the Shadows, called and demon, Let it be known that if i truely am a Demon, Then I am the Light within shadow. I am the beacon of true hope for all those around.

I will protect the followers of all of you without indifference, But I shall need your help. Moshran, Malachin, Elara, Ronagan, Nargun, Oldra, Adron, Cherga, Irmorom, Sirani, Zhambra. Each of you I hold in highest regard. I see not the pathetic view of other mortals. My training in the wilderness showed me that In darkness, there is an absence of light, and in Light, there is an absence of darkness. Both must be in an equilibrium. I will turn my soul, Into the soul of Light and Dark. If you will not lend me your strength, even not but a little. Tell me where to find your vassals. Each of you carries a skill that places you apart from the other. Be it Honor or pride, Knowledge or Power, Happyness or suffering, Shadows against Sunlight. This is what I need to protect your followers. This is what I need to defeat Galthran.

No mere mortal can defeat him. This I know. But mere mortals carry no such honor and pride, no such knowledge or power, no such happiness or suffering, no such views into the shadows and light. Their views are clouded by their desire to cling onto the mere concept of mortality they possess. I know, that in this life, in the god sphere, and in the next life. I will always love Mairead. Not you all, Nor any man can take that away from me. It is the one thing I am sure of. And I will use all my pride and honor, all my knowlege and power, all my happiness and suffering i have taken along the way, And I will take my soul, The Soul of Shadows and Light to keep myself, Mairead, and All the innocent lives upon this isle alive. This is my promise to you. I ask for your strength.

A scream can be heard in the middle of the night, One could say it sounded like a devil's cry, others say it was like a wounded animal. But the words said this, and all the witnesses say the same thing. They heard:

"The Younger 10 Gods. I call upon you now! You will not ignore me! Chose your Vassals well!"

coming from the north Guard tower. It is said the blue hair demon sealed away the Demon Axe: Wolf Axe. When asked why, He merely replies

"I await my true weapon. And no one but I can wield the Wolf Axe. It will consume your soul."

Posted: **Sat Aug 12, 2006 7:22 am**

Far way in the peaceful west.......

A single solitary candle burned dimly at the "Briarpatch" Tavern in Greenbriar, casting a long shadow upon its lone occupant late at night. The occupant would look like a cheery amicable halfling if it weren't for the deep lines and grey hairs of worry across his face.

"TrollsBane in Chaos........Rothman's gone 'mad'.......Silverbrand gone.......Varshikar and the Grey Rose preparing for Battle......Vanima silent.......Zzyathis reclusive........and The Temple and Negros biding their time in the south to destroy us all......." Dusty Bottoms, Mayor of the smallest town in Gobiath, thought wearily.

"How shall I defend our people.....how can I maintain the peace?"

Dusty thought of the events of the last few days. The meeting with the new settlement of Caelum went extremely well. The new "County of Briar" has been formed. A new dream of unification begun.

"If only they would see what I see. Does anybody care? Is anybody there? Where does all this anger come from?"

"We need a united Gobiath.....united not by bloodshed but by trust......"

"How can we stay neutral in times such as these? Bloodthirst knows no neutrality. Only strength....."

Dusty thought of happier times. Times filled with peaceful days strolling along Briar's shores, meeting good friends in Trolls Bane, even helping other towns draw new people to their markets......ahhh......business and politics are strange bedfellows indeed.......

"We must persevere. If only they can be made to understand. Blood begets more blood......it never ends......even if Stephen's plans as some have suggested are to conquer all of Gobiath, he shall never maintain it, because of the way he is doing it.......it shall never last.........It must be through peace, not war........." Dusty thought.

"We must be an example........our dream of peace can only be achieved when all of Gobiath is at peace........that is the only way....."

"We must be strong both in military might and in spirit.........we are a new nation, simpler, less 'sophisticated', more enterprising....and there's a desire for peace here unparalleled in all of Gobiath. Can I ask them for war if its needed? Dare I ask them to take arms to claim what is rightfully ours..... peace? Peace to trade, to raise families, to share good ale with friends."

Dusty's brow furrowed in discontent....

"I hate war.......with every fiber of my being.......it is wrong......where does it end? It is so pointless."

"Ironically, we must prepare for it.......to defend the dream........Peace?"

Dusty let out a slight, but sad chuckle at the irony of it all, before drifting off to sleep, his little arms cradling a little head full of worries............his little shoulders carrying the weight of the world.....................

The candle burns ever so slowly, but ever forward................

Posted: **Tue Aug 15, 2006 11:09 am**

Misjbar Mehialho, the elusive brother of Misjilah Mehialho, yet now know as Lerian Lifi'al, trails his fingers along the damp walls of Silverbrand. The smirk filled with mischief, high, nearly nobel cheekbones and intense grey eyes, narrowed and stern, yet enticing. The smirk fades for a moment as his finger trails over a rune, etched into walls by one of them barbaric dwarves.

Oh how he loathed this place, yet the faint superiour feeling of his feet trailing over ground that no longer belonged to the filth gave him a slight feeling of joy, excitement. His thoughts filled with thoughts concerning old enemies. Galim, Alora, other dwarves whose name he never bothered to remember.
Reminded by the uninventfull names, he spit on the floor, quickly sliding over it with his shoe. This place could need a good cleaning. Perhaps some works of elven art, elven weaponry. Or a good infusion with magic. Might even scare those bastards away for good.

He takes a good look at the wall for one last moment before turning on the ball of his foot. He should speak to Stephen about this.

Posted: **Thu Aug 17, 2006 8:11 am**

Stephen walked along the mountains of Silverbrand, now apart of the Kingdom he was building. He walked in full armor, ready for anything. A smile still played upon his lips. How the "vermin", Samantha and Lamar, had jumped at Galthran's scraps, how quickly the fools thought Stephen had been beaten; Stephens smile became broader; and how easily Stephen stole away this illusion. He had given them a tease, a taste of power, of true authority and he had taken it from them as soon as they got it.

It had worked in his favor in the end. True, Galthran was a problem, still was proving to be a problem. But in the end it worked for Stephen, Galthran was an evil man and everyone knew it. Samantha and Lamar were short sighted enough to believe that Stephen himself was so hated, none would care whom replaced him. And now their reputations were stained, as poor as Stephen's perhaps, stained for being linked to Galthran.

So now Stephen was back on top, his plan had nearly fallen apart, but he was still on top and people still were joining to fight for him. He was still growing in size and strength. He would have to depose of Samantha and her cohorts. Regardless of whom that included, the woman had been a pain in his side for long enough, now she would need to be finished.

And after that, would be the final step to building his Kingdom.

Posted: **Thu Aug 17, 2006 11:21 am**

A tall and powerfully build man looks over the town that was once Trollsbane in disgust. What had happened to the people? The government? The very ideals he had faught so very had to insure that they remained? Gone.

That lone word ate away at the sensibilities of the proud man. Gone, simply utterly gone. What was there left for him to fight for? He could not understand the actions of Stephen, nor the actions of so many others. What then was he to do? The man looks to the stars, as he has done for decades, trying to disern what was left for him to do in these bloody and chaotic times.

But then again, he was a warrior, this is why he was what he was, for times like these.

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A Kingdom forged in the flames of Blood and Sweat

A Kingdom forged in the flames of Blood and Sweat