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Calm

By Annalise | March 30, 2015

Darkness had long since descended, blanketing the sprawling manor that had become her home in the comforting embrace of its shadows. The pale, fleeting light of the moon's rays spilled through the seam of thick, unyielding curtains to bathe two bodies within its muted colors.


A small, delicate frame moved within the rolling blankets, her leg dragging up the thigh of the much larger body that acted proudly as her pillow.. her comfort.. the anchor she clung to in the fleeting moments in which she had desired nothing more than to be swallowed by her grief.



"I would lose him a thousand times before I ever chose to let you go."


Her eyes traced absently along the perfectly angular profile of his face, every plane, every line highlighted within the paint of the dim light.


Had she meant the words? ..Would she relive this pain, this torment endlessly.. should it mean that He.. this man.. her Sire would remain in her life throughout the entirety of her existence? What was that, if not love? True, it had not been a love born of extreme circumstance, of heightened emotional states, or an undeniable sense of responsibility for the well being of another.


But that love? She had known.. had always understood that just as the flames reach their peak, it would inevitably leave only ash in its wake.. a smoldering remnant of what should have never been given the air it required to thrive. No.. that love had been born of pain and tragedy..


And what she had done..


Her eyes closed as the regal line of her cheek bone drifted along the rise of his pectoral, her body edging ever closer as the heel of her small foot dipped beneath the bend of his knee. She could remain here, tangled in the masculine perfection of her Sire.. she would would let him in.. embrace the healing balm of his presence within her heart.


And she would love him.

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Discontent

By Fadeen | March 29, 2015

Yet again, his sleep was restless.. filled with fragments of memories.. He had awoken remembering nothing, but with the same unease.

So he had returned to the caverns, half to hunt, half hoping he might come across the girl again.. but he had not. So he had hunted.. fighting, gathering.. seeking. When he grew tired of the cavern he had left, wandering the woods beyond the place.. always with the vague sense that something he ought to find was just beyond the next bend of the mountain.. through the next thicket of trees.. Yet whatever it was, it eluded him still no matter how far he roamed.

Sam often asked him questions about things he couldn't place memory to, but he was convinced had happened.. He had returned from wherever he had been with blood on his face.. dried from a wound to his head. Was this the cause of his confusion? It seemed at least some explanation, though it did not touch on how even with few memories of why.. he had no interest in the craft he had come here to study. Why he had found himself clad in armour.. why he carried blades.

Worse.. why the only time he felt even a minutes certainty seemed to stem from the times he took up those blades.. set to the hunt.


Then the girl.. her questions.. something nagging at the back of his mind.. like some remembered fragment of a dream. He had thought little of it in the moment.. or if he had thought more of it.. somehow he had pushed it down in his mind as if it was nothing.. Wasn't that in of itself odd? She had asked so many strange questions, yet as he looked back on it, he could not recall thinking them so strange as they were in the moment. It all seemed.. off somehow.. As if he was viewing the world through dirty window pane.. Memories that seemed missing, then this odd off sense of confusion.. Second guessing even his own actions and thoughts from one moment to the next..

Something seemed off, and even though that should concern him the most.. should strike him moreso then anything else.. What hung in his mind was Her.

Anna..

-AR

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The Tratiors bow before the future queen

By Jarickson254 | March 28, 2015

As zestra enters the underdark she stands up looking at all the tratior drow
she begins to chant and summons vortexs from the earth the tratiors ran in and they attacked with thier might they ran in
zestra laughed as she commanded the vortex to attack the tratior drow she stood above them as thier body bled out upon the cave floors zestra yelled out i will be queen of this city and respect shall be mine as she walked in the city the Tratior clerics who have disobeyd lloth's orders came rushing in she laughed and said i am a queen of Lloth you will know the name and respect me i am Zestra Sinore you tratiors will remember my name

Zestra Sinore_3-28_16.46-1.jpg

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Darkness

By Fadeen | March 28, 2015

So he sat in the small room, the soft light from the fading fire lightening the darkness.. he rested in familiar seat.. his mind drifting over the events of the day, even as his hand sought the torn fabric of his stomach..

Amazing.. to see what it could do.. that deep feeling, that intense emotion.. So many years gone he had almost forgotten what it looked like.. But as soon as he had seen it had all come back.. the memories of that night. Being that boy.. looking at the same immortal monster.. and yet unable to act.. Frozen by his fear.. his cowardice had become his shame.. A mortal man walking with gods.. In the long years since then he had reassured himself that he had redeemed himself.. but faced with courage, true courage driven by that deep of feeling.. At once he missed the boy he had been.. and at once come to appreciate what she had seen in this one.. even as flawed and broken as he was..

He missed Life.. He missed.. Passion, Fire. Love.


It felt as if he had finally truly awakened.. from his long cold slumber.. from this sleep walking unlife he had led.. and at once he had realized it.. He did not love her.. not like that.. He loved her.. but it wasn't -that-. It wasn't what -that- felt like.. and he knew it because he could -remember- what it had felt like..

He sat in the fading light, a small sad smile coming to his lips.. it hurt. Truly hurt though.. a depth of pain that stung and burned.. and in so doing gave him feeling again.. More than his simple obsessions.. his passing fancies or games played at living.. this gave him the truth of it. He wasn't a childe any longer.. and he hadn't brought her into this world to fill some emptiness in himself.. he had done it because it was right to do.. Because she was meant for this world..

Even as he was saddened even as it cut to him, there was joy here.. Joy for her.. for them.. and for him too, as her Sire.. Their joy somehow seemed his.. even if it had ceased the path forward to what he had thought to seek..

Even as he heard her moving through the halls it lifted his heart.. There was that much at least..

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Server Maintenance & Networking Equipment Upgrade

By TheGuy | March 27, 2015

Server is currently down for maintenance. Additionally new networking equipment is being install. It will probably be several more hours before the server is backup.

Estimated time of server being back online is 3pm PST

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[3/26/2014] Server Update

By TheGuy | March 26, 2015

- Created a rares spawning system
- Added around 1,000+ unique rares that will spawn in all the dungeons
- The system is complete & working. Being setup in the dungeons now!

When you find a rare in one of the dungeons it will say (stealable). You will then use the stealing skill on the rare to steal it. Most rares can be hovered over with the mouse to see the name. There may be a few that you have to click on to see the name. The rares can spawn anywhere.

Please note, this is in addition to everything else that is already on the server!

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Weary

By Fadeen | March 24, 2015

And so he slept.. At long last he slept.. His body stilled, and in the blackness he visited them all in his dreams..


The Dark City always seemed alive.. Always seemed busy.. the theater district bustled.. the inn was booked full and no room remained.. Soon the show would be in production and he would have the temporary respite such artistic diversions afforded.. It was a busy task, but one he took up gratefully.. it kept his thoughts from her, and it pleased Sursa.. These newcomers were entertaining enough, welcome distraction.. After so long away returning to play the role of the spoiled Prince was trying, but nonetheless different.

He strolled quietly past the market, his eyes lingering on the shop, closed now.. but familiar curtains hung in the doorway still.. Her vendor had long since packed his bags and left.. probably taking whatever merchandise he had remaining in payment..

He turned from the building.. too many memories, too much pain.. His footfalls fell silent upon the pavers as he continued on to the museum.. Sursa had said he had cause to go there.. to see what was displayed in the upper floor now.. And so he had gone..

He heard the heartbeat even as he entered the Hall.. the girl was upstairs.. reckless and young.. he reminded him vaguely of Her.. He slipped into the Shadows, not interested in speaking, in their antagonistic little dance. For some reason tonight it tired him, and so he stalked onto the second floor shrouded deep within the blackness... He moved in the blackness, his eyes tracing the dim view of the room, fixating briefly on her before moving to the familiar statues that decorated the top floor.. Artisans of legendary skill had placed their craft here.. craft gathered by Sursa, over the long course of centuries..

But there were no displays.. unfamiliar to him, they had not been here before.. but as his eyes fell to the statues.. No they were not unfamiliar at all.. They were the pieces he had wrought with his own hands.. For Her so many years past.. Pieces that had adorned familiar shop.. and Her home.. and yet here they sat, among the crafts of Masters.. here, in this place..

He fled the place then.. moving to the darkness of the Prison District, intent to bury the pain, the sorrow of all the things he -should- have been.. could yet have been in the familiar warmth of Blood.. the death of those who had the misfortune of crossing his path.. not that they deserved death, any more than any other had.. Only that he came upon them.. and could find no way to balm his loss, save to hurt them.. to drain them, and torment them.. Anything.. so long as for a moment he could forget.. forget all he had given up, and all he would -never- have..



His awareness returned slowly.. first he could hear the soft sounds of the village.. the creaking of the boards of the manor, her movements.. albeit few at his side.. The dream lingered yet.. his eyes damp with it.. as suddenly wound was laid bare again after so many years.. Even in the wake of what he had found here.. something.. somewhere was missing.. wasn't as it should be..

Even if he could not place it.. Somewhere within he knew.. He Always Knew.

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the tale of the Golden Dragon

By GoldHotShot4 | March 24, 2015

Part One:

Deep in the mountains of a far of land, long before time was recorded is where this tail begins. He lay there at the back of his cave slumbering as the wind could be heard blowing past the entrance of his den. the soft sound of water running from a lower chamber gently fills the air as the sound of light drops fall from the ceiling of the room. He awakes. in a low roar he speaks to himself. he sighs. " hmmm another night passed and still no end in sight. this world has become so boring and meaningless to me. whats the point of my being here?" he asks himself as he does every day. "long have I lived. I cannot count the cycles ive seen come and go. and yet here I am still. the little beings below me in this world run around. such short lives. yet they waist them in war and pain. never to grow old enough to understand the meaninglessness of war. how pointless it is to kill your own kind" he says as he lets himself drift back into slumber.

~to be continued~

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The unfortunately fortunate Rouge

By Arimus | March 24, 2015

Drip... Drip... Drip...

Marius placed a shaky hand on the ground trying again to force himself to his feet. Such a display of power he had never seen. Warm blood ran down his face, some of it getting into his eyes as he tried to rise.

Drip... Drip... Drip...

It was the steady sound of his blood running from a gash in his head. He'd earned it when his cage plummeted from the beam that suspended it in the air. All around him, those that were alive, were staggering to their feet. Slaves, all of them, but only their chains kept them bound to anything resembling a common cause. Most alarming, however, was that his drow masters hadn't begun visiting death upon them. After all, to a drow, it would be a slave's fault that his cage fell absent anything he'd done save sit there and hope to die.

There were screams and explosions not far off going in the opposite direction from the plaza, the place where they'd hope to sell him. The attack started in the plaza and moved off in one direction, as if intent on a singular purpose in a whole city full of damned souls in need of rescue. It was as though Selvetarm himself had blown down the gates of the settlement in seach of a battle he found worthwhile so that he might finally die.

It had not been Selvetarm though, no, Marius clearly saw a man. At least, he appeared to be a man. He wore a dark red robe. It was the same robe worn by the figure who'd hired them, Marius and several other sellswords. He'd given each of them a vial of blood and their weight in gold, and sent them off to the underdark with instructions not to open their vials. Several of the men who later went off with their gold, no intent on doing the work for their payment, were found dead before the night was out. Marius was a talented thief, and a competent mage, but he wasn't a fool. He knew then that their had been more to this man than met the eye. How much more, if he ever learned it, would be a tale worth telling all its own. When he and the sellswords were ambushed he didn't know how many of them fell, how many still lived, or if they'd kept their vials. How long had he been there? Days, weeks, months? In the endless dark and artificial light, it meant so little now and between regular beating he'd stopped counting. He hadn't kept his vial of course, they took it along with everything else he had. Though that wasn't the last time he saw the vials.

He paused as the pieces began to come together...

He rolled to his back, tired from his struggles. The bleeding may of slowed but he was too weak to do anything other than lay there. If putting the pieces together was his last solace, and took his mind off his inevitable doom, so be it. Some of the vials, perhaps his was among them, were carried by a high priestess of Lolth as she passed by with a prisoner, a woman, and her escorts. Were it not for the bruises and caked on blood, and other evidences of visited torture, she probably would have been beautiful. Just before the robed figure appeared the prisoner they were escorting somehow came in contact with one of the vials. It was then that the robed figure appeared. He seemed to materialize out of thin air, cleaving the closest drow he could reach in half with a strike so swift and forceful it cracked the very air. The woman, she cried out at the sight of him. The priestess and her guards saw him too, as they reacted to the deafening strike. Here in the heart of the underdark surrounded by the faithful and perhaps favored by lolth herself the priestess and her guards hurriedly dragged the woman away. They were not seeking to take the battle elsewhere, no, they were fleeing from him.

As a practiced mage, even if he wasn't one of stature himself, Marius knew magic's power. The magical energy brought forth in the moment the robed figure laid eyes on the woman shook the entire cavern in which the city resided. Drow, slave, friend, foe, hapless creature, those closest to him were simply gone. Had Marius not covered his own eyes, if he weren't dead, he would most certainly be blind. The torrent of spells became more intense, his blade relentlessly hacking apart anything that managed to get close to him be it drow or fleeing slave. As he continued on in the direction the priestess had fled he turned on a heel and sent a blast of energy back towards the largest avenue into the plaza, and the resulting shock-wave had knocked Marius' cage from its suspension.

That had to be it...

The vials were spelled. Perhaps Marius wasn't meant to be captured, but the blood was meant to summon the robed figure. That would also explain how the men who didn't make good on their pledge died. A powerful enough mage could siphon off some of himself therein, perhaps to bypass a barrier or transport himself somewhere, should he be killed... or to look for someone.

He was beginning to lose consciousness again. He could barely make out the faint ring of large metallic footsteps as they moved towards him. He had not the strength to roll over to see what fate awaited him. Now he would simply die. He felt heated metal against the back of his neck, armored fingers closing forcefully around his robes and then he was hoisted into the air as if he were nothing. He saw only the back of massive armored red heels as he was thrown over, what could only be a giant's left shoulder. Slave's still scurried about in all directions, some fighting amongst themselves, some arming themselves, some attempting to escape and others still taking the coward's way out. With little concern left to his own fate, he made one last attempt to raise his head to the right only enough to see his salvation or destruction. He never made it before he blacked out, but he caught a glimpse of the woman prisoner cradled securely against the creature's massive armored torso.

He woke with a start. He was in a small but comfortable room, clean and his wounds had been dressed. At the foot of the bed there was a heaping bowl of stew and bread. Lamb from the smell of it. A stinging sensation came to his right cheek as he moved about, and he reached up to grace it with his hand. There where once a slave brand had been he now had a fresh scar. He winced at the pain, but hunger was stronger. Reaching for the stew he also found a parchment rolled up next to the bowl. He unrolled the parchment, the simple enormity of the message he read there confirmed any suspicious he might have had about his escape.

I found your vial, friend. Safe travels.

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Home

By Fadeen | March 24, 2015

He walked softly through the halls.. reveling in the idea of having a place to return home to.. It had been a very long time since he had regarded any place as more then a transient place to hang his hat.

Yet here it was.. Home. What was more, it began to quietly stir with the idea of more then just a place for him and Her, she had found recent pet.. and his own long since misplaced had sought him out.. His mind churned with the possibilities of building a family all his own.. Absent the need for lies an manipulations visited upon him by his own long absent Sire..

What if things could be different here.. So much he had been told to be had proven false.. She had risen.. in truth less mad then he had been when he had awoken.. But she had not been baptized in blood the same as he.. lacked his brutal and bloody upbringing.. and in denying his ways, offered him view of world long since obscured from darkened eye.. and wasn't that the point of all this?

Then there was his old friend so recently arrived.. A brother perhaps? Hadn't he so enjoyed the camaraderie he had with brothers.. both in life, and in death.. He had long since considered it. Now with evidence mounting that it worked so clearly..

So what then was the future.. She yet might fill the long empty place at his side.. Servants gathering to the House.. It was almost as the old days.. Absent certain irritations from then..

Still. He stilled, peering out the window over the small village.. the nightsky dark over the township. Still.. He wondered at them. His family.. Sursa.. Father.. Brother.. and Her. It had been many years.. yet still even in these quiet moments his mind would turn to them.. to Her again. So long since parted, yet unendingly the wound that he would carry always.. Balm that She was, he doubted if it would ever truly heal..

Wasn't that just the nature of this unending night? That each one gathers more scars.. more wounds, until finally they overpower the one.. leading him to madness.. or to endless constant sleep as Sursa was oft to take.. He had slept from time to time.. but never as she.. beyond years.. So it was with any Elder he had known.. they oft slept beyond the flow of years.. leaving the events of the world to spin on as they took to the earth.. There had been times he had considered such.. but instead he had done as he had in life.. Wandered, Aimlessly.

His eyes traced the rooftops, a small smile coming to his lips as he folded his arms behind his back.. Such thoughts were welcomed.. they reminded him of where he had come from, what he had endured, that he was yet sane.. To miss, to feel remorse.. These were things that had been gone for some years.. yet that they returned.. that he wished to reminisce.. to surround himself with a Family.. these spoke to his sanity.. to the presence of -something-..

Even absent Her.. even with the memory sometimes dragging at him.. Hadn't he told her.. perfection came -from- the marks that each carried.. Not absent them.

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