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An uneasy silence reigns over the Kantabi. The mountain seemingly dormant for weeks now, yet still countless portals flicker with energy as dusk falls.

Her burnt and broken body enveloped in darkness, the elfess frequents the fallen temple. Carving ancient symbols into the columns, her fateful murmurings carry on desert winds.

One soul shall be given
Two lives of sentient minds must be sacrificed

Once invaded, touched minds struggle to shake off even the softest whispers of Letma. Whilst some fear the horror beheld, others yearn for the eternity of terror.

Four earthquakes toll success
Three must cross the line to live in demon fire for eternity

A young dragon watches restlessly from his vantage point as deep rumbles disturb troubled memories of an elf seemingly tied to the fate of his kin.

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Eine schwermütige Stille herrscht über die Kantabi. Der Berg scheint seit Wochen zu schlummern, nichts desto trotz flackern unzähliger Portale mit Energie wenn die Dämmerung hereinbricht.

Mit verbranntem und gebrochenen Körper, von Dunkelheit umhüllt, sucht die Elfe den gefallenen Tempel auf. Antike Symbole in die Säulen schnitzend, murmelt sie schicksalsschwer gegen den Wüstenwind.

Eine Seele muß gegeben werden.
Zwei empfindsame Seelen müssen geopfert werden.

Einmal befallen winden sich berührte Geister mühevoll selbst unter dem sanftesten Flüstern Letmas. Wo manche den Horror in Angst erblicken, sehnen sich andere nach der Ewigkeit des Terrors.

Vier Erdbeben läuten den Erfolg ein.
Drei müssen die Linie überqueren um für die Ewigkeit im Dämonenfeuer zu leben.

Ein junger Drache wacht rastlos auf seinem Aussichtspunkt. Ein tiefes Rumoren erschüttert seine Erinnerungen an einen Elfen, der dem Anschein nach mit dem Schicksal seiner Art verbunden scheint.

Another sleepless night writing in her journal, more senseless things as her dark eyes keep glancing in one direction before looking back at the candle lit parchment. Was there something growing? Maybe a feeling of something building?

The constant headaches were almost a norm by now, expected, and neither helmet nor hat could get rid of them completely. Kyre hadn't seen other mages from Galmair in ages and even the children...especially the witchlings were unusually quiet. Could they feel it also?

Not to worry Smith, she no longer talked of the mountain and never urged him to go with her to see it anymore. Was there anything else to study? Secretly she just wished it would go away.

A parchment hangs rather prominently on the wall behind Borgate, who proceeds to glance with narrowed eyes at anyone attempting to climb the bar. There seems to be quite a lot of writing in red on the parchment and it could be Borgate is inclined to offer a drink for those that read it.

Any new information on Letma.. leave here so all can read. Perhaps the mystery can be solved at last? I visited the mountain today and have my own observations. Whether near or far, it appears to cause headaches in mages. The place is now empty of red skeletons though there are some laying on the ground with maybe a tinge of red still in the bones. What is so interesting however are the portals. I urge all mages to go look. There is power and mana.. you possibly can feel the mana build in your body.

The portal was easy to resist the slight pull wishing to drag me in, though harder with the enticing words of an elderly elf that suddenly appeared. Even though Oxi saw nothing, this mage proceeded to demonstrate to me great power in the spells, telling me to come and join him. There were dragons flying around before yet with a flick of his wrist they suddenly fell out of the sky and landed on a near mountain. This continued until In the end only one baby dragon was left along with a very scarred older dragon with similar markings.. possibly they were related. The elf left his invitation open offering me the baby dragon as a slave.

I have promised Oxi I would get more information at this time, though one day it may be best to re-examine those portals and maybe enter.

The Witch


An extra parchment and filled pen are readily available for those interested, they are allowed to hang their own parchment after being given a nod by the dwarf.

If sound could have a temperature.. The whispers seemed icy cold as they entered his train of thought. Those whispers seemed to pierce the fragile veil of his sanity, worn thin by the toil of violence and betrayal. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, everything had failed, down to their attempts to slay the demon Rhaeghandas with their help... Their help... Why did we seek their help.

There was no good, not in any god nor man. Goodness, kindness, naught but illusions for the fevered masses. This cesspool of a world deserved naught but the fires of primal chaos.

"Truly I have sought the wrong ends, I meant to save this world from the lies and betrayal. However the roots of true evil have long since grasped tightly at this world, far before I had entered it." Ulquiorra glances longingly at the teleporter to the visiting area of the prison.

He had once meant to rid the world of all demon influence. Now he would for the first time truly succumb to the shrike call of those unspoken entities.

He had nothing more to lose, they all hated or feared him. They believed the lies of snakes and cowards and here we are, unable to change the past.

He dreamt of fire and pain, but whose, he seems unable to determine.

Gazing across the desert the soldier watches restlessly from the walls of the citadel. The unforgiving sun reflects off a gleaming insignia of the old Empire that adorns his otherwise battle-worn armour. A slight smirk crosses his features as orders are barked out below with a familiar hiss... would the obedient still stand without their precious walls to cower behind?

Met with only with cynicism and disdain by his young Master's Elders, a lost boy seeks to prove his worth. Striking out alone he pledges to bring all that can rightfully be claimed before his Master to seal his allegiance.

Few notice the halfling busying himself in the fields under the complacent gaze of the guard. Bountiful goods are sold whenever opportunity arises between frequent visits to the crypt. Enquiries about an orcess, however, lead the halfling to gather up a few meagre possessions and head for the mountains.

As dusk approaches the hooded elf emerges from the forest to slip into town and continue his search for the namesake taken from him. To capture a hatchling and hold it tethered by powerful magic is one thing, but fully grown would be quite some feat.

That night as the elfess leaves her carving to seek an old ally powerful tremors cross the Kantabi to be felt throughout Illarion.