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A raven haired, dark dressed female enters the office, looks around and drops the note on his desk.

I step out of the portal to my house and look around. The lands have become too hostile and my desire to meddle in the affairs of the humans has diminished to a level I cannot express. I took a long moment to decide what I would do, to the result that…

I am resigning from position as instructor of Alchemy and Herbology at the Academy. -Mauzen Zhau’nil

Nightingale, Gale for short, is from a relatively small, not so well known family of vampires; the Heartwood family. Their story would be a short-lived one where they attained their vampyric forms, gained some power over a small town, then had it all …

This modification will allow a user to print all posts within a topic.

To do this click on the thread you wish to save.
On the top left hand side it says “Print view” click on that.
Once the page opens up edit the URL and add ‘all’ to the very end.

Then push enter to display the entire thread on one page.

Example

And as in the past The Daughter of Grace descended from the heavens and set foot on the crest of Ilaria. She sighed having lost most of her belongings, she would not let those heathens who drew power from her dark cousins bind her soul to that pound o…

Tzurei sat alone at the bar of The Drider’s Rest tavern. Leaning over his mug of ale, and deep in thought.
It had been so long since he found himself on the surface world. It all seemed like such a blur.

A vivid memory began to fill his mind.
He had befriended a pack of Dire Wolves to aid him in the sewers. They had been fierce, and he was one of them.
A smile crept across Tzurei’s face as he remembered the events. The alligators and rats didn’t stand a chance this time.

He had stood over the many corpses in that sewer, breathing in the victory, feeling it all around him. The wolves at his side… the pack… HIS pack. The memories felt good.
But then he was back again, alone at the bar.
“I should visit them soon….” he mumbles to himself.

Tzurei takes another long swig of ale as his mind begins to wander once more.
It was the day he first truly explored Destard. On all previous excursions he had remained on the upper level, in the open expansive cave, quelling the drake and dragon that called it home.
This time, however, he had gone deeper in the caves. He was caught off guard by a hungry dragon.
It was then that another dragon had suddenly come out of no where and saved Tzurei.

This was the day that Tzurei met his long time companion, Kratos.

It was memories like these that were haunting him lately. Tzurei glanced around the bar once more.
He loved the life he had made on the surface… but it seemed the treachery of the Underdark would continue to spew to the surface.
Tzurei knew what must be done…
They all knew…

He just wanted to live his life. But that would have to wait.

– Added some more town houses to Narrowhaven- Hail Storm spell now uses focus instead of imbuing- Map2, Dumgeon2 is now fully decorated- Adjusted damage on meteor swarm, hail storm, lightning strike, and wild fire- Removed inscription as a double bonu…

The note seems to have been scrawled quickly.
It hangs in the middle of Mauzen’s office door.

“Lord Mauzen,
Solomon and I wish to meet with you and discuss some important matters.
Please send for us whenever it best suits you.“

The note is signed – Tzurei, Keeper of Balance

(Just something I made up.. doesn’t follow any history or events on this shard) (could be a possible character idea for myself in the future)

Goszef, a Ghoula from the Western desert tribes. He stood next to his master, the Ork Roth Gal, and listened to the words the orc spoke. The teachings of this Ork, who otherwise would have been a tasty meal, had opened the eyes of the Ghoul…

It was not entirely coincidence that he was discovered.. his tribe was nomadic, as all Ghoula tribes were. They were starved and malnourished, as all Ghoulas. They were small in numbers, and led more or less by a Shaman. They knew their cursed history and lamented it. They lived in torment, knowning no other alternative then the fleeting joys of devouring a fresh corpse. They weren’t the sadistic self-driven killers that the other tribes would have liked to be, they were just unfortunate beings struck with an insatiable thirst for the dead, and the inability to control it. A lost traveler in the desert was as morally poignant as a snake or a rabbit. Only when their hunger was fulfilled were they considered civilized. The Ghoula ate what they did because they have to. They aren’t fundamentally evil. That is.. most arent. The tribes in the north of the great desert would do things like that. They lied to themselves, they tried to be what they despised, a cycle of spite and self-hatred driving them to try and enjoy their cursed existence. They were weird, frankly. The Ghoulas of the west desert were depraved. They had so little to eat that when they found anything alive, it was torn to pieces in a gory ritual, and the pieces went to the strongest there that could take them. The Western tribes, where Goszef was born, were different. They had ample food if nothing human or orkish could be found. They weren’t smart or civilized, but they had a rudimentary culture and were more then happy to trade with anyone who came around after dinner. Goszef wasn’t like that, though. He was weird, he had always been violent, especially towards other Ghoulas. Since it was not their custom to abandon troubled youths, the Ghoulas tolerated it and raised him as they would any other. He would kill other children and eat them, much to the displeasure of the mothers, but there was no sane recourse to take against him, nothing short of killing him would cause him to stop, and he had utterly no respect for his fellow tribe, or anything else for that matter. There wasn’t much respect to begin with, but a small amount existed and held the tribe together. They weren’t smart, but the Ghoulas knew that numbers meant safety, and a better chance to survive. They may have been cursed to wander the desert, eating the flesh of conscious beings for all eternity, but they knew it was a curse. They knew they deserved it for siding with the Undead in the great war, and they were content to live in pain. Goszef was not. The delicate balance of the tribe grew thinner each day, as Goszef simply killed who he wanted when he wanted. He finally snapped the binding string when he murdered the Shaman in cold blood, then didn’t take a single bite of his corpse. The other able warrior ghouls attacked him. Given Goszef’s nourishment, which was almost ideal for a ghoul, he was much stronger and much brighter then then the other warrior Ghouls, and was able to escape them. He found himself abandoned, without a tribe. This wasn’t a problem for Goszef. He wanted to spite the world. He hated it and he didn’t need anyone to hate it with him, so long as he was doing his worst. He killed and wandered for years, the desert sands ripping his already thick and rotted skin apart.

Then he met Roth Gal, the wandering orc. This “walker” as they were called in the tribes, was somewhat different. He was an orc, and rarely did any orcs enter the desert. He was huge, which meant a tasty and rare treat, and .. something else disturbed Goszef.. he was confident. He didn’t have the empty eyes and confused demeanor of the lost or lonely, he was walking through the desert wastes looking for something, and scared of nothing. This made the meal all the more appetizing. Goszef moved in for the kill, using an axe he had fashioned from a plow. He was quiet and skilled.. he knew that the walkers were smart and would fight as he fought.. if they saw him. Roth Gal continued to walk confidently. Goszef closed the short distance quickly and swung at him, but the Ork had heard him long before and was ready. The orc dodged the blow and threw his hands up, a pillar of flame erupting from his robe and forming into a sword in his hand. Goszef was taken aback, never having seen anyone do anything like that. The orc looked Goszef in the eye.. and talked to him.

“You want to eat me. You are a cursed wretch and I shall not allow it.”

“You are foood.. What elsssse would I do?”

“You are driven by hunger and hatred, bitter and uncontrolled. You’re an animal!”

They circled each other while talking, each trying to get the better ground. Goszef was by no means a trained warrior, but he was strong, strong even for a Ghoula, and he knew the desert. He knew he could win.. but the fire sword had entered a new variable into the equation.

“Fight me, Ork.. kill me if you can” Goszef taunted.

The Ork just laughed, and moved the hand swathed in fire in a swiping motion. The blade of fire extended, far beyond its original size. Goszef was not ready for this, and was cut across the arm. The fire burnt into him, and the smell of his rotten, burning flesh just fueled Goszef’s hunger. Goszef lunged with the axe, which is not the ideal way to attack with it. The Ork was fast, though.. and moved aside, bringing his fireblade down on the Ghoul’s back. The fire burned him.. but he was not cut.

“You ssssspare me.. why?!” Goszef yelled, tormented by the Ork’s impudence.

Death would be an easy way out of his hated, and something he would have welcomed. This ork would not allow Goszef to eat him, and would not allow Goszef to die – he was toying with him.

“Your eyes.” The ork answered, “They have the spark of rage, of hatred. You kill because you hate all things. You kill because causing death is your revenge against the world. Am I right?”

Goszef said nothing, scampering back into fighting position.

“I can free you from your hunger, Ghoul. Your curse can be lifted” the ork said, temptingly.

“You have nothing I need.. bessssidesss your large, deliciousssss body.” the Ghoul answered.

“I have salvation. I will give you a purpose above that of your petty, immature violence. You can do what you love and be rewarded by it. I will sate your hunger, and give you a place in this world. You will belong, instead of persist. You will work, instead of spread chaos. You will be a part of the world, not a clinging and cursed remain.” the ork said confidently. His voice was deep and powerful, even over the desert winds.

“Your mouth wordsss are not working, Ork-food” the Ghoul uttered through jagged teeth.

Goszef’s other talent that set him apart from his comrades, if they could be called such, was his legs. They were unnaturally strong.. Goszef used them quite well. He jumped, several feet in the air, and flipped around, bringing the axe down on the Ork. The Ork was not prepared for this, but avoided the blow barely. He struck back with his blade of fire, burning the Ghoul even more, and causing the Ghoul to drop the weapon. Goszef was out of options. He had nothing but death to look forward to now. The ork would not let him eat and he could not fathom waiting any longer.. the hunger was immeasurable. He curled into a ball and whimpered, gnawing at his own kneecaps out of desperation.

The orc hit him again with the sword, knocking him out of his ball and into a sobbing heap a few feat away.

“You are pathetic. Join me, and you can become significant.” the ork said, speaking in the same, confident tone. “Barach rewards his followers. You don’t have to live like this, a sorrowful heap of impulse and pity. Be something strong!” The ork then kicked him.

Goszef had been through enough. The ork had beaten him, which he didn’t have a problem with, but the orks insistence on his survival was intolerable. Goszef climbed to his feet and attacked the ork with his bare hands. The Ork smiled greatly and let Goszef hit him a few times, then hit him hard on the head with the fire blade hilt, knocking him unconscious.

“I knew you’d say yes.” the Ork said, as he carried his new servant out of the desert. The ork took him to the Brigand camp, where he was given all the humans he could want. Fresh, lean humans with good meat. All Goszef had to do was follow Roth Gal’s orders. Roth had him trained in traditional combat, got him out of his rags and into Imperial armor, and turned him into a lethal servant. Goszef did not particularly like the idea at first, but was not one to argue with free humans. Eventually, Goszef was convinced to follow him with his heart, which had moved aside his anguish and despair. He no longer killed to spite the world, he killed to serve him. It made much more sense, and was much more satisfactory. He was no longer a cursed wretch, destined to rot away. He was an avatar of the great God, a servant of his message and a good one at that.

Only after months of training had Roth bothered to ask his name.
“Goszef the Wind” replied the Ghoul.
“You are now Goszef the Storm.” said the Ork.
The Ghoul did not object.