I got the 400th post!

B.U.M.P.

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Play epic RPGs such as Dark Exile, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

(NSP: *Rolls eyes at Highemp* Anywhos, on to ACTUAL posts...)

Within the realm of Shamoor, Saatch, Diaszu and Jirverak head way to Strage's stronghold. Unfortunately, their journey would not be an easy one...

"Holy ****, what the hell IS that thing?" Diaszu shouted, pointing at three large rat-like shadows, with rows of sharp teeth and multiple beady, red eyes.

"That, my young mage, would be a shadowbeast," Saatch spoke with a almost detached voice.

"Now this is what I'm talking about!" Jirverak said. Charging in with his sword, Jirverak lept at one of the shadow beasts, when his sword, even his entire body, passed right through it!

Remembering what Saatch had said about them earlier, Diaszu yelled out "Aim for the eyes!" He then telekinetically launched several rocks at the shadowbeast that advanced upon him, and as it struck its eye, it reeled back in pain, blood pouring from it now.

Jirverak, with the new knowledge, jumped off the side of a small rockside, and drove his blade into the shadowbeast's eyes, causing it to fall dead Diaszu, with the pointy end of his staff, drove it similarly upwards into the beady eyes, causing a second shadowbeast to fall. The third, however, had gone missing. Saatch, standing nearly statue-like, stood close to a shadowy patch.

Suddenly, a gaping jaw of teeth appeared behind Saatch, ready to eat him whole. "Watch out!" Diaszu screamed, but was too late, as the jaws came down over Saatch. The shadowbeast, under a cliff of rock, began to advance upon them. Jirverak and Diaszu prepared themselves, when to their surprise, they saw Saatch appear above the shadowbeast, standing on top of the cliff. With a quick swipe, Saatch drove his stick into the beady eyes, and the third shadowbeast fell dead. Diaszu and Jirverak stood dumbfounded.

"How'd you--? But you couldn't have--? And you were--?" Diaszu muttered, with all his logic being defied. Jirverak simply stood, his mouth hung open.

"The power of the Lord is great and mysterious," Saatch said. "Let's not waste time now, this fool still intends to free his people," he added with a smile.

Shaking their heads, the three set off again to Strage's fortress.

*Materializes from a random computer console*

"Everyone keep up the good work!"

*Vanishes*

Saatch made his way through the lands of Shamoor with Diaszu and Jirverak and spread the word to gather at the Citadel. Then, when all the residents of the various villages had come, he boomed, in a voice magnified by divine spirit, "My people! The time is now to rise up against the oppressors! I AM is with us, and with trust in Him as our shield, we cannot lose!"

There was an answering cry, a deafening roar that shook the land, from the people of Shamoor. Long trod beneath the heel of Ebon Skull and his minions, as well as the blight upon their realm and bodies, they now rose up against their cruel masters. Pitchforks and torches were thrust into the sky as the people mobbed the Guardsmen, most of whom fled in terror at the sight of the Shamoorians, who greatly outnumbered them.

A sergeant of Yimir held a line of Guardsmen steady at the bridge over the stream that formed the Citadel's moat. Their Demon Axes raised, they stood firm against the mounting assault.

But when the villagers reached the Guard, they found that the axes slid off their skin as though it were armor of the strongest kind! Now the line broke, and the sergeant himself was speared through the heart by a pitchfork.

And the Shamoorians continued toward the Citadel. They broke upon the gate like a tidal wave and forced it open, swarming inside. Shadowbeasts were blinded by farm implements and ran away, blood streaming from their red eyes. Dark clerics tried to heal their comrades, but found their evil grasp over the powers of good vanished. "For I AM no longer tolerates your usurpation of his power!" Saatch bellowed at them.

The dark wizards, however, remained, led by Strage, holding off the people. Their lightning bolts and fireballs held them back.

Saatch, Jirverak, and Diaszu came to the front of the line and prepared for the showdown. . .

-----

Stanin made his way through the castle. It was dull gray in color for the most part, but there was a golden pyramid in the center, upon the topmost tower.

More warrior statues guarded various points and positions of the castle, but they let Stanin pass - as well as the dark demon that was following him with his knowledge.

Ebon Skull, by trailing invisibly within Stanin's psychic shadow, was able to penetrate the castle for his own dark purposes.

Stanin, however, did not notice that anything was wrong as he ascended the keep.

When he finally reached the balcony at the top, he paused. He felt. . . something, he wasn't sure what.

The air shimmered in front of him. Two apparitions appeared, in strange clothes that Stanin had not seen for a thousand years or more. They were beautiful women. Their hair had the same luster to it, though the older one had golden hair, and the younger had dark brown.

Melantha. And the girl that haunted Stanin's memories.

"Stanin," they said, "think of what you do! You seek ultimate power, but in attaining it, you will destroy yourself!"

Stanin grimaced. He should have known. This last test would sap his very will. "If that were so," he ventured, "then ultimate power would not be ultimate power, eh?"

The younger girl started crying, "Oh, Daddy," she murmured.

Stanin started. Daddy? When had he ever fathered a child?

Melantha spoke now. "Stanin, let go of your pride! You are not God!"

"No. But I will be."

"Oh, Stanin," she replied, "if you will not trust God, then trust me. I LOVED you. I love you still."

Stanin's resolve wavered. He closed his eyes, swaying on his feet.

There was silence, for one eternal moment.

Stanin opened his eyes and walked through the door. Melantha and the girl looked after him with sad eyes.

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Play epic RPGs such as Year Infinity, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

(NSP: Wasn't ready to do the posts I have lined up, but I sorta wanted to do this as well. Just a bit o' character thinking. And wheee! Ping dropped by. Must mean good luck )

Within the shadows of Stanin's knowledge, Ebon Skull stalked closely behind. He watched as Stanin passed each of the trials guarding what he was sure was the matrix of Volsang. It was fustrating that he, Ebon the Great, could not pass these mortal's trials himself. It was more fustrating that he knew so little about this old mortal and what lied buried within him.

For a moment, Ebon thought back to the times before time, when he wasn't fallen. Those times...they felt like a dream. He could not ever forget those times, but he could not remember them at the same time. The weight of reality and dimension denied him to accept those memories as anything but lost and meaningless. Rejection was all he knew. Rejection twicefold in his vision, having become what he despised most. Being mortal was so...humiliating.

He would reclaim what he had lost. His hatred burned within him, renewing his faith within himself. He would gain the power of the Gates of the Eternal realms yet. He would see to it that he championed over all, even Justice itself.
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"...At sunrise I fight to stay asleep
'Cause I don't want to leave the comfort of this place
'Cause there's a hunger, a longing to escape
From the life I live when I'm awake..."

~ "Higher" --Creed

J\Gebohq/L

The searing heat of the noonday sun beat down on Krig mercilessly. He'd already removed his cloak and helmet, and was carrying them in a bundle at his side, but he was still sweating profusely. Rivulets of wetness carved paths through the grime and filth covering Krig's face, and large patches of his clothes were soaked. But Krig hardly noticed the heat, except to observe that it was there. He'd never understood why people complained about the temperature, he was fine whether it was hot or cold.

Krig stopped to check a hoofprint in what appeared to be a long-dry riverbed. He was still on the right track. He'd been following behind the two men on horses for days, falling behind during the day and tracking their passage by their spoor, catching up during the night when they camped. They hadn't noticed him the entire time, though he'd been sure the bigger one had stared directly at him several times. Krig truly didn't like that big one. Something about him reminded Krig of the nasty man who'd killed those people he was with before.

Krig drew a deep breath of air, letting the local scents fill his nostrils. They were strange scents, not at all like the crisp, clear ones of home. Except for the scent of the sea. That had been growing stronger for some time; they must be headed towards water. Maybe Krig would see his friends again.

A gust of wind brought the sounds of a surf cresting, and of voices talking. Krig quickly ducked behind a low hillock. The voices didn't seem to be approaching him, so he began approaching them, keeping behind the low hills and scrub that populated this area. Eventually he came to a sandy beach, beyond which was a peaceful, rippling sea. Krig sighed. He was home once more. Seeing the sea again was like seeing an old friend, who you trusted and could rely on to behave as you expected. The chaos of the past few days was beginning to fade away already.

Out in the water lay a large, bulky ship, with a heavy hull and a great many sails. It would have dwarfed any of the Northman's native vessels, but it also looked slow and unmanouverable. On the beach stood the two horses Krig had been trailing, their riders standing by the water awaiting a small rowboat that was coming to shore from the ship.

Krig had never been this close to the riders in broad daylight. The lad stood apart from the bad man, as if not sure of what to do. The occasional wind tousled his sandy hair. The bad man stood unmovingly, the gusts flapping his dark cloak around and letting it hang still, alternatingly. Krig examined the bad man closer. There was something strange about his appearance; he didn't look like other people. It was like there was the man standing there, and then another man standing in the same spot, a foggy, ethereal man. But they were somehow the same.

Suddenly, realization came to Krig. That was no man. That was something far worse. And the lad standing next to it was in grave danger. Krig grabbed the haft of his axe...

****************
Quarsh stood, peering stoically into the sea breeze. The rowboat was slowly making its way to them. Quarsh had patience. He and his brothers had waited thousands of years for this moment; he could wait a few more minutes. Time was irrelevant to the immortal.
Quarsh stole a glance at the lad standing next to him. A snivelling, pathetic weakling, hardly worth killing even for fun. He'd thought the child had shown some backbone, back at the town, but he was beginning to think otherwise. He was nothing but a sorry excuse for a mortal. But the Great Lords said that he had the spirit of one who could be a Champion. Looking at the runt, Quarsh wished he had the Great Lords here now, so he could spit their heads on his scimitar. This was a waste of time. But orders were orders, and Quarsh did not want the forces of Evil to turn on him. Only fools like Ebon Skull did that. No one could face the Father of Lies and defeat him, not even Ebon Skull.

"So the Forces of Evil have procured a ship for us, have they? Or are these guys just more members of your little game?" The young man spoke up again, for the thousandth time. The little wretch could not be more annoying. For the thousandth time, Quarsh restrained from tearing the little weasel limb from limb. Instead, he settled for not responding.

Movement behind him caused Quarsh to turn his head and look. It was those angels again. Ever since picking up this would-be Champion, he'd been followed by two big warrior angels, grim and silent and always keeping their distance. During the day they fell behind, out of sight, but during the night they always came in close to where he'd made camp, sometimes right up to the edges. He'd tried to drive them off the first night, but they kept coming back. He wished he knew why they were following him, this Robert was certainly nothing to merit an angelic escort. And they most certainly couldn't know that this Robert was a potential champion for Evil. Though the forces of Good did sometimes know things they shouldn't have.

He was about to turn back to watching the sea, when something burst out from behind a brown grass-covered hillock and leapt at him, swinging a battle axe. A mortal! How had he not seen it, this close to him? As the short, axe-weilding mortal hacked futily at his corporeal body, Quarsh looked back at the warrior angels. They were closing in on him, drawing their ethereal swords. Of course. They hadn't been following him, they had been following this short, hairy one, protecting him. Hiding him from Quarsh's eyes. Quarsh felt a fool.

As the angels neared, Quarsh let go of the distraction of maintaining his corporeal manifestation, and drew his scimitar.

**********************

Robert's mouth hung open. One moment, the short hairy man who'd appeared out of nowhere had been hacking at Quarsh's legs and torso; the next Quarsh was gone. Just simply -- gone. What was going on here? His mind searched for an explanation, but could find none. Had he been hallucinating?

The short, hairy man still stood where Quarsh had been, looking at something Robert couldn't see. The man was filthy, and Robert could smell him from where he was standing. He wore a battered, horned helmet, but no cloak. Great, another wacko, he thought. What would this one claim to be, a dragon in human form?

Robert looked back at the rowboat, which was close enough now that the two men in it were jumping out to pull it to shore. He wondered what he should say to them, now that Quarsh was nowhere to be seen.

"Lad not safe with evil thing. Lad should be home, not be with evil things." The short, hairy man had spoken. Robert felt slightly offended at being called a 'lad'.

"Evil thing? I suppose you think Quarsh was a demon too, right?" Robert replied. "What, are you in league with him, or just another mindless dupe he's conned like me?"

"Krig not dupe. Krig northman. Lad should go now, away."

"I'm not going anywhere. This Quarsh still has some things he needs to tell me."

"Lad get dead if stay. Or become bad man. But lad is good man, should not become bad man."

Robert was getting tired of this. "Listen, I don't know where you came from, but you can't tell me what to do. My life is mine to do what I want with."

The little man stared at Robert for a long moment, his left eye twitching once. Then he turned and looked back at the spot where Quarsh had been - or where Robert thought he had been - and continued watching something Robert couldn't see, gripping the haft of his axe tightly.

Before Robert could ponder further where Quarsh had gone to and how he'd disappeared like that, Quarsh reappeared in front of him. He looked different now -- he had scratches and bruises all over him, he looked tired, and his clothes were torn in several places.

"I've fought them off," Quarsh growled, his former imposing demeanour diminished but not gone. "Get into the boat now, mortal! Hurry! They'll be back at any moment!"

Before Robert could ask what on earth Quarsh was talking about, the big man turned on his heel and grabbed the short hairy man by his worn tunic, and lifted him to eye level.

"I don't know what's so important about you, human, but you're coming with us. Anything with two angels that powerful guarding it must be useful somehow."

Quarsh whirled around again, grabbed Robert, and threw the pair of them into the now beached rowboat, easily pushing it back to sea by himself, and then jumping in. As the two sailors began rowing the boat back out to sea, Robert wondered for the thousandth time what he'd gotten himself into.

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When the blind leadeth the blind.... get out of the way!

Kronaemix materialised in the Receiving Quarter of the Gathering of Fallen Swords, his former heavenly order, and dropped his hand to his sword immediately.

He was too late.

In his recent excitement and confusion, he had not even considered that So'liq would strike at the headquarters of the Fallen Swords, the secret collective that Kronaemix had served for countless millennia. He had now paid for his foolishness-even from scanning the Receiving Quarters, he could tell that his demonic adversary had already been here recently.

The walls and ornamental tapestries lay more or less in ruin. Amid the chaos, the guards lay overwhelmed but not dead. It would have taken too long to instill fear and doubt in them, Kronaemix realised, so he simply overpowered them. But why would he not take his time and destroy everyone, unless-

He was looking for someone.

Termaan-Li.

He was already halfway out of the Receiving Quarters at the thought of the name.

------------

He found Termaan-Li in his inner chambers. At first, it appeared as if he was lying on his bed. Upon closer inspection, though, the often misguided Leader of the Fallen Swords was moaning and clutching his chest, which had a sword-shaped hole in it.

Slowly, Kronaemix approached the bed, and knelt beside Termaan-Li. The Leader's face slowly turned to his, and acknowledged his presence with dim recognition.

"Kronaemix..."

The angel nodded, respecting his colleague's final minutes.

"Kronaemix, So'liq...he was here. He..."

There was a pause, as Termaan-Li's head lolled to one side. Gently, Kronaemix supported the angel's head with his arm.

After some time, Termaan-Li spoke, but more jilted and laboured than before.

"...He has discovered something horrible, Kronaemix..So'liq can rend andamite. He can..he can kill us now!"

Termaan-Li's face intensified, then grew haggard and shameful.

"In my shock and...indecisiveness...I...I..."

His eyes filled with tears, and he averted his gaze. Pity flooded into Kronaemix. Even someone like Termaan-Li didn't deserve this kind of self-torture.

"..I...doubted my faith. I...doubted God."

Kronaemix nodded, clearing his throat.

"That was your undoing, Leader."

Faint understanding swept over Termaan-Li's complexion. Kronaemix pressed on.

"When did So'liq get here? Did he take anything? Where was he-"

But he cut himself off. Termaan-Li did not respond again. Slowly, Kronaemix lifted himself to his feet, muttering under his breath.

"Semievil, you have my condolences."

Slowly, he turned his back on the devastation and found enough strength in himself to leave. It was time to deal with another issue on his mind.

Volsang's Matrix.

In the depths of Hell, at the final gate to Satan's lair, two arch-demon guards stared blankly through the ruby haze that eminated from their bodies at the massive cat which was now chewing idly on the remains of the other guards who had attempted to stand in its way.

Suddenly it dropped a battered, limbless torso of a lesser feind to the ground and swatted it playfuly at one of the guards. He instantly ceased to glow and the projectile hit him heavily in the gut and knocked him over, crushing and shattering him into oblivion. The other guard, upon seeing his odds cut suddenly in half, simply dispersed.

A quick swipe of the paw and the cat bounded in the doors and onto a large table in the middle of the room, into the middle of a head demon confrence. It slid as it landed on the papers that lay across the table and came nose to nose with Satan himself.

"Fools!" the creature said loudly "What do you think you are doing? Do you not know that your time has ended? You will lose everything if you continue to fight against the forces of heaven."

"Brother," Satan snarled "you know as well as I that God never goes back on his word, and he has promised a fair fight. I always go back on my word. How can I lose?"

"The time of redemption is at hand. Be prepared to be forgiven, or be destroyed. The choice is yours."

Satan knew full well that the cat was bluffing, the time of redemption was a forgotten concept, but he could see his generals shifting awkwardly. The strong red glow normally associated with a demonic congregation now flickered pale upon the walls. They were fully convinced by the display. He ordered the nearest to him to remove the cat.

As the nearly trembling demon reached for the cat however, it struck out with it's claws, splitting the general's hand from his arm. The show of force against an etherial being compleated the illusion and allowed the cat to take it's time in exiting.

Standing outside the first gates of Hell, Space Orca released his hold on the mind of the cat. He left quickly, so that he would not be associated with the events by any witnesses, leaving the cat to find it's own way out. It's newly established reputation would be ample protection against all the forces hell could muster. Space Orca grined as he walked away; even Satan had thought he was Semievil- even if he hadn't bought into the threat, things were going better than Orca could have planned.

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The early bird may get the worm-
but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!

The pyramidal room was filled with tapestries, strange tapestries that depicted figures that were beautiful angels one moment, and malevolent demons the next. The walls were formed out of reddish stone bricks. In the center was a dais formed of platinum.

And on the dais. . .

A crystal. The crystal. The Crystal of Power!

It was a tetrahedron in shape, with a turquoise tint, standing upright.

Stanin approached slowly, breathlessly. He couldn't believe that this moment was finally upon him! Cautiously, he reached out his hand and touched the Crystal. Slowly, gently, caressingly, he picked it up with a lover's touch, and held it cupped in his hands.

He had the activating spell memorized - had had it memorized for centuries. He began chanting.

"Stars in the sky,
Stars in the soul,
Stars in the ground,
Stars in the whole:

Obey my command;
Bend to my will
As I shout out-"

With the last words, his voice reverberated with the eternal thrum of the cosmos, unlocking the power of the Crystal for himself!

STARS

STAND

STI-

Stanin stopped. Dead in his tracks. He was suddenly overwhelmed by this tiny, nagging voice that was now screaming in his head.

There was a sense of something wrong, inherently wrong, TERRIBLY wrong.

But what was it? He couldn't figure it out.

You don't have to have all the answers. Just believe. . .

The voice murmuring in his mind was faith. And to listen to it would take a LEAP of faith.

But could he jump it?

-----

Ebon Skull, having taken the form of a fly, watched from a corner of the room as Stanin was involved in his own internal battle. What was this crystal? It couldn't be important, or else the Eternal Powers would know of it. Undoubtedly some magic artifact. Perhaps a powerful one, but mere mortal magic nonetheless, to be sure.

-----

Stanin thought of Melantha, he thought of the girl - my daughter - and he thought of One in Whom all trust was to be placed. . .

He let go of the Crystal.

Faith was the answer, he believed. He had faith in Melantha, in the girl, in God Himself that ultimate power was not for him, nor for any mere mortal - but only for God.

But the Crystal did not fall. It hovered in the air, glowing its turquoise glow.

Stanin stared at it with detached interest.

Suddenly a brilliant light appeared above the dais; yet it did not blind him. In the light was a diamond, pristine white, roughly the shape of a sphere, only with many facets. But it had a hole in it. A hole in the shape of-

My son. . .

Startled, Stanin glanced around. Nothing.

My son. . . This is the Gem of Reality. . .

And Stanin knew Who the voice belonged to. And he knew what to do. He grabbed ahold of the Crystal of Power and inserted it into the hole in the Gem.

The whole universe lay spread out before him, the whole of reality. Power was not all there was; there were also love, faith, hope, joy, peace, purpose, and truth. Wholeness. The true wholeness that only God bestowed.

Sights, sounds, and smells assailed him as the vision showed him segments of the life of a man, a man who had lived a millennium ago.

He saw the man striving in his mission to rid the world of evil. He saw him fighting against terrorists who plagued the earth. He saw him mourn his wife's tragic death in a terrorist attack. He saw him swear revenge. And he saw the revenge that accidentally took the life of the man's only child. Stanin saw the man wail and cry out to the Lord, demanding ultimate power so that he could right all wrongs.

And the Lord cursed the man for his pride, by cursing him with ultimate power.

For what was the curse of ultimate power? It manifested all aspects of the person to whom it belonged. In God's case, all the aspects were good. But in the man's case, there were many negative aspects. And the world was filled with his nightmares made real. In despair, the man cast away his memory, praying that redemption might come to him, and became the Pariah Excelsior.

Stanin eth Calenb.

He, Stanin, was that man. He was Joshua Vandercroft!

God had allowed him this chance for redemption. So Joshua took it. He used his powers to forget that he had ultimate power and put it in the form of a crystal, save for a small bit of it, which manifested itself as the ability to channel pure magic, as a means to aid and abet his wanderings.

And so Stanin - or Joshua - had wandered, seeking out the crystal. And Joshua's hope from the very beginning had been that he would, in his second chance at life, come to see the light of God's wisdom.

Now, by casting away trust in himself and coming to believe in the wisdom of God, Stanin had been redeemed.

And he saw. . . Ultimate power was not the whole of man.

Depending on God was the whole of mankind.

He had depended on God, trusted in God, and had been redeemed, made whole!

Stanin could not contain his joy any longer. "Praise the Lord Most High!" he cried, uplifting his arms to the ceiling. His powers stripped, his memory returned, and his soul restored, he was whole.

Tears streamed down his face. At long last. . . he was whole!

-----

Ebon Skull watched the proceedings curiously. He did not see the Gem of Reality or the bright light, but only saw the Crystal vanish, and the expressions on Stanin's face change. He did not see Stanin's revelation. Nor did he care.

Roaring, he shifted form from that of a fly to his true demonic form.

Stanin stared up at him with a peaceful look on his face. Nothing could touch him.

Ebon Skull telepathically ripped into the man's mind, and extracted the information he so desperately sought: the location of the matrix of Volsang.

Laughing maniacally, the disgraced demon vanished.

Stanin smiled. He was whole. Nothing on heaven, on earth, or down below could alter that. He whispered, "Birds still dance. . ."

-----

Morning
Praise the morning
Sunrise in heaven
Fills me
Mine is the new day that breaks
God's in His heaven and everything's right in His world!
Nature rejoice
Yes, and the birds still dance!

Singing
With elation
Voices in chorus
Are winging
Sweetness is filling the air
Joy overflowing just knowing that God is still there!
Nature rejoice
Yes, and the birds still dance!

Sweetness is filling the air
Joy overflowing just knowing that God is still there

Lord of all Creation
Take my life
And give me the freedom to mount up with eagles and dance
Whisper
My devotion
Father, Creator
Mine is the new day that breaks
Yours is the power and glory, Amen!

Peace in my soul
Yes, and the birds still dance!

Peace in my soul
Yes, and the birds still
Birds still dance!

-"Birds Still Dance" performed by Sandi Patty

------------------
Play epic RPGs such as Year Infinity, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

(NSP: Sem and Geb inc. present this post for your reading pleasure.)

On board the Northman ship upon which the Matrix of Volsang was held on, Yimir strolled on the main deck. His travel was slow though, as if moving in the depths of an ocean. Oddly enough, Yimir and his deathly white aura was the most animated thing that could be seen on the Northman ship. It was almost disturbing how still the sea vessel was, having been locked in a stasis storm nearly a hundred years ago by Yimir himself. “Dormant, but not dead,” Yimir thought to himself. A mistake which he would correct now.

Yimir systematically searched for the matrix, sluggishly making his way from bow to stern. He was not quite sure what he was even looking for. He had assumed that something so powerful and so desired by Ebon Skull would be rather obvious to find, yet he found no trace. He was hoping to have found the matrix personally, to assure its destruction, but would have to settle for destroying the vessel that carried it.

As Yimir was en route to disembark from the Northman ship, he saw a small boat headed in his direction. Interested but wary, Yimir quickly jumped within a nearby cargo hold, using what abilities he had to keep himself unseen. Peeping from a deck-level hatch, he watched as the boat anchored next to the Northman ship, where then he noticed three figures. He instantly recognized the small Viking known as Krig, who should have been locked in stasis with his Northmen friends on this very ship. The Viking, however, appeared to be held hostage by the other two. The younger one looked vaguely familiar, and apparently bored, while the older was shrouded and purposeful.


Quarsh swept onto the deck of the ship just in time to notice a hatch snap shut in front of him. Realizing that it could not be one of the stony Northmen, he dragged his wards to investigate. Moving with incredible fluidity, he tore the hatch from the deck, pushed Robert and Krig in first to test for an ambush, then followed in himself.


Krig’s world spun into darkness as he was heaved first onto his home ship, then down into the center cargo hold before he even regained his balance. Knowing that the bad man was here to cause trouble, he tried several times to leap to the defense of his treasured home, but never found his feet on the ground long enough to do so. Resigned to at least regain his footing, Krig let himself roll, eventually hitting the inner hull and stopping. Standing, he noticed a peculiar glowing coming from inside his tunic. Remembering the amulet Bais had given him, he withdrew it and found it was glowing brightly. Suddenly a small case standing in the middle of the hold burst forth in a flood of color and energy. Splinters flew and a shower of sparks flooded away from Krig, revealing an open portal. As Krig’s eyes adjusted to the light, he saw that the portal was strung more or less in the broad side of a right triangle that looked nearly black in comparison to the light shining forth around it.

Adjusting to the rather spectacular vision before him, Krig noted with interest that the bad man seemed to be held firm, struggling toward the portal but held back by some mysterious force. As the bad man drew closer to the portal, he suddenly stopped and backed away. Out of the corner of his eye, Krig saw an old man step slowly between the bad man and the portal.


The primal instinct within Quarsh had mauled any sense of conscious efforts to do anything other than reel back from the Viking’s amulet. He had not even fully recognized it at first, but when he did, he was all too certain what it was, and he did all he could not to think of it. Just as he was making progress to move on and ignore it, the image of the amulet suddenly flooded his mind. He stumbled backwards, gripped with fear. As he was overcome, he did not react as Yimir stepped foreward with a thin smile having broken across his face.


Some distance off Bais noticed sparks flying off of the deck of the Northman ship he had tentatively identified as their next destination. Perceiving conflict, Bais reached into the folds of his robe, and withdrew a handful of small stones and a pair of heavy leather gloves from his box. Holding them tightly as they burst into flame, Bais focused on the stones to draw as much energy from them as possible, turning the steady breeze he had been generating into a gale-force blast, closing the remaining mile or so in under a minute.


(NSP: Keep the posts flowing everyone! You know you want to!)

------------------
The early bird may get the worm-
but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!

(NSP: Sorry for the NSP, I hope to put up a story post soon, but first I'd like to point out that since Krig's ship is a Northman (ie, Viking) ship, it doesn't have a centre hold. It's basically an overgrown canoe with a sail. However, it does have a foreward hold, in the bow of the ship, which is where I would suggest editing the last Sem and Geb inc. post to take place in.

A crude cutaway diagram from the side of a Northman ship:


Anyhow, these last few posts have been awesome, with Kronamix and Stanin and Orca and Robert and Krig and everything coming together... it's sweet. Hope I can post soon.)

------------------
When the blind leadeth the blind.... get out of the way!

[This message has been edited by Krig_the_Viking (edited February 03, 2002).]

As Yimir stepped forward, he suddenly received a magical message from Strage: "Your highness, Saatch is leading a peasant rebellion against us. We are being overcome!"

Yimir had the unpleasant sensation of frustration, followed by the realization that he WANTED to retain at least ostensible control of Shamoor and the even MORE unpleasant feeling that he was more like his father Bazaal than ever.

He was in a turmoil. The fear spell, the lust for power. He was just like his father. Yes, my son. . . the sepulchral voice of his long-dead father seemed to whisper from an underworld far below the earth's surface, join me. . .

"No," he muttered through lips that were suddenly parched, "never. I will never be like you, Father! Look at what you were! You were a monster, and where did all your power get you anyway! To Hell! That's where your ambition got you! I will not consign myself to the same fate!" He wept, his knees buckling.

-----

Krig knew instinctively that the old man was a bad man, too, but he wavered when the old man started shouting out to his father - Krig looked around, but he couldn't find the man's father, and besides, wouldn't the dad of someone that aged be dead by now? - and crying.

Suddenly Krig remembered why the old man looked familiar. He was Yimir - Bazaal's son! He felt a pang of sympathy. Yimir wasn't really bad; he was just raised by bad people.

He went over and patted the old man's shoulder, as he was now on his kneees. "It okay. Old man not be scared. I protect you. Daddy bad man. You can be good man!" An inspiration hit him. "You can be Northman! I teach you how to use axe!" His own eyes brightened, he looked into the man's, hoping that he was having some kind of effect.

-----

Just a short post to see the turmoil that must surely be in Yimir's soul. Imagine! Raised by Jezeba and Bazaal and corrupted by Ebon Skull, what kind of life must he have had? Really, he's just a scared kid inside who never really grew up because he had no good influence. I say we give Yimir a chance to redeem himself. What saith thou?

------------------
Play epic RPGs such as Year Infinity, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

(NSP: Or we could just have him eaten by sharks and have his tattered, bloodstained carcass wash up on shore... *annoying kids in the audience: yay!* But I guess redemption is good. We still got more bad-guys on the way... and we'll have to delve into redemption a bit more than just a 1 post flip..... /shrug. Who wants to write it?)

------------------
The early bird may get the worm-
but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!

TLTE, you can introduce Kronaemix into the battle to try and stop Ebon Skull from seizing the matrix.

-----

An apparition of black flame flew across the sky, soaring toward the Northman ship. It settled onto the deck and coalesced itself into the form of Ebon Skull.

"Foolish mortals," he boomed, "I have come to reclaim what is mine!"

Quarsh fought back the lingering effects of the fear spell. "Ebon Skull," he sneered. "Disgraced demon of Hell. If ever you want to reclaim your position, you ought to help me!"

"Never!" the demon hissed. "I will become the champion, and I will sit at Satan's right hand. Never another."

Raging, Quarsh flew at his once-compatriot, only to stagger back as Ebon Skull struck out with ethereal darts of something so black its darkness was tangible. "Behold!" Ebon yelled, "the Black Shadow!"

------------------
Play epic RPGs such as Year Infinity, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

(NSP: This probably won't be one of my better posts, like I was hoping it to be *course, I ALWAYS think that...er--anywhos*, but I really needed to do this part before say, the 22nd century came rolling around So here it is.)

"Why'd we stop?" Kupala demanded. "Bais is within our sights now, and they have stopped by that other sea vessel in the distance!"

"All the more reason to fufill your part of the deal now, before you get killed," Saidelora answered. Kupala's face expressed his disbelief at her lack of confidence. Shawn Templer merely stood, somewhat curious at the two. The three were on a sea vessel of their own, smaller than the one Bais had been on, but not much. That is, four of them were on a sea vessel. Lina had managed to keep herself hidden during the voyage.

"I'm going to need you, Kupala, to keep me grounded as I cast my spell. You can help as well," she said, pointing at Shawn. "You both should be strong enough. Just make sure to secure yourself as well."

"Doesn't sound too hard," Kupala said. He smiled as he wrapped his arm around Saidelora's upper waist, close to him. Shawn, not quite as excited as Kupala was, did the same, his arm below Kupala's. Both of them held on to a railing nearby. With her arms outstretched towards the sea, Saidelora began chanting arcane words she had long since memorized. She continued repeating syllables over and over again, yet nothing was happening. Kupala rolled his eyes, but Shawn's expression grew worried.

After several long moments, the turbulent water off the deck of the ship began to rise, like solar flares. A small twister of water formed, but the twister grew dark as a shadow. Some of the water transformed into blue flames, and the rest turned into a hint of orange, making the water and fire crash into each other in a chaotic dance. The twister suddenly bursted with a lightning of shadowy light, pulling the three violently towards the twister. The ship they were on had drifted towards hte vessel itself, before being stopped by the heavy magic anchor that they had placed down.

Saidelora was now screaming her arcane words at the top of her lungs. Shawn and Kupala felt Saidelora now fighting them as she tried to draw closer to the mass of chaos herself. Her back was arched, her legs spread...Shawn was rather disturbed. He turned his head, and he swore that Saidelora was sexually excited. Her face expressed that fine line of pain and pleasure. She was giving her all in this, in every aspect. Shawn wasn't sure of the railing would hold out for much longer, with the forces that were affecting them.

The mass of chaos before them took shape of a man, phasing in its place. When the man fully appeared, Saidelora fell limp, and the man fell into the water, almost lifeless. Saidelora managed to breathe out "Get him," before passing out. Kupala stood with a stupid expression on his face, while Shawn, understanding her request, jumped overboard and swam to retrive the man. After several minutes, Shawn managed to bring the man back on the deck, noticing his dirty and torn robes, his long, mangled hair, and his scarred appearances.
--------------------------------
Shortly after Shawn Templer brought the man back on board, Saidelora recovered, and managed to make her way towards the man, who appeared to be waking himself.

"...so...so calm. ...Where...who...who are you?" the man said in a deep voice, to Saidelora.

"I am the one who brought you out of the State of Chaos you had been imprisioned in. These are my friends. And you, Raivus, will be the key in a great battle to come."
-------------------------------
"...and maddest of all, to see what is, instead of what should be."

Cervantes, -Man of La Mancha

||[Gebohq]||

[] O * + /_\

[This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited June 19, 2002).]

Semievil peeks his head of of his lair and pulls the story to the top of the boards so that his browser will still be able to load the index page it's on at the end of March when Sem the writer's life calms down.

------------------
The early bird may get the worm-
but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!

Sem repeats his last move.

Sem, running out of godly powers, tries again, just barely pulling TEW out from under the other stories before collapsing on top of a few pages of spooky taco

------------------
The early bird may get the worm-
but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!

Uogh... ermph... reaugh!!!
Sem tries one more time to B.U.M.P.

TLTE spots Sem's attempts, sympathises and shoulders the burden, providing some extra effort with which to lift the dying thread...

*insert blood-curdling scream here*!!!!!

No, no, no, NO! This is NOT a dying thread! Nor is it dead! It is vital and alive!

Shame on you, TLTE, for not reading your emails! We were just putting this story on hold until the summer!!!!!!!!!

------------------
Play epic RPGs such as Year Infinity, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

(NSP: Yeah yeah, this story was on a break until now. Feel free to make any posts on your own--I'll be making mine as soon as I can, which hopefully will be soon ).

(NSP: A short thing, to keep this moving. The show MUST go on! And a small voice from Geb cries "help!" to the other writers, but other than that...

EDIT: Whoops! I just realized that Saatch is still with them, and that the last psot involving them indicated that Strage was leading his dark wizards in keeping hte Shamoorians from attacking. Well, uh...jsut pretend that Strage is still within the fortress, and that Saatch can at any point join back with teh other two.)

Within the fortress Strage was occupying, Jirverak and Diaszu marched forth. The muffled cries and clangs of battle outside the walls could be heard reverberating in the otherwise silent stone halls. From what little Diaszu picked up before, he was questioning his own motive in confronting the dark wizard known as Strage. The wizard was sure to be more of a match than the two of them could handle, if he was anything like the other dark wizard Yimir.

Diaszu glaced over at Jirverak. He found it hard to believe now that there was a time that Jirverak's face was not pale and rotted. That is when Diaszu noticed it in his face. For the first time, Diaszu saw something in those eyes, in the muscles that held his jaw firm. He saw a life that he did not know Jirverak possessed. A will that was driving him beyond his own apparent undead condition. A will that Diaszu began to think he could stand to have himself. If a dead person could regain life, why coudn't he? Diaszu thought that perhaps he knew his motive for confronting Strage after all...

"Wall," Jirverak blurted.

"What--?"

The hard stone wall connected with Diaszu's face, sending a wave of dull pain throughout his head.

"Sometimes I worry about you, Diaszu..." Jirverak sighed.

Diaszu smiled. He knew for sure why he had to confront Strage now. Holding his staff, Diaszu prepared for his encounter with Strage.
===================================
"Those who write clearly have readers, those who write obscurely have commentators."

"A novel is never anything, but a philosophy put into images."

~Quotes from Albert Camus

~Gebohq..--~>>>>>>>

[This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited June 19, 2002).]

(NSP: Check your e-mails everyone, because TEW is starting back up again, and this will be my main focus (thread-wise) until it is finished. If you haven't recieved the e-mail, please tell me so I can send it to you. This post will include what I can type up before going to sleep. Let's see how it turns out...)

Robert drew within the Northman cargo hold as Quarsh and the one who Quarsh had called Ebon Skull fought on the main deck in front of him. He stared with his mouth open at the battle. If he didn't know better (which he was beginning to wonder if he in fact DIDN'T know better), Robert could have sworn that the two fought as if their surroundings didn't exist, and from the vibrations he felt, he would have guessed that the force of their actions should have torn the ship apart. The scene seemed so unnatural.

Remembering the viking and the old man, and risking the chance that he might miss something vital between Quarsh and his opponent, Robert turned back to look into the cargo hold itself. It appeared as if the old man shouldn't have fit into this situation, for as Robert looked at him, he saw a fearful and weak man-turned-child. The viking appeared to be trying to comfort the man. Robert couldn't help thinking what the old man was doing here as he turned to look out a port in the cargo hold.

Two other ships, some distance away from each other, were closing in on the ship he was on. "What was this?" Robert muttered, "Some sort of psychotics' party that I wasn't told about?..."

His thoughts were interrupted by a large dark mass slamming right next to Robert. It appeared to be Quarsh' opponent, and it...he appeared to be stunned. Quarsh, flaring with an angry mania, screamed at Robert.

"Stab him, you fool! Stab him with your dagger!"

Robert was utterly confused as to what Quarsh was talking about...he was still trying to figure out what the blazes was going on. His eyes glanced at the other side of the deck, seeing another figure in white hiding, watching the scene as he had been. "Is that...an angel over there?" Robert thought. Immediately, he knew that he MUST have been seeing things. That couldn't have possibly been an angel--

--the dark mass that Robert knew as Quarsh's opponent was quickly shifting his weight to get back up. Quarsh, charging towards Robert and Ebon Skull, yelled with a voice that hurt his ears from the volume.

"Kill him already! Use your dagger, NOW!"

Robert had almsot forgotten that he HAD his dagger, given to him by his father. Unsheathing it, Robert prepared to strike Quarsh's opponent with it, not really thinking of who this opponent might have been.

(NSP: Ooohhh, a cliffhanger! Course, if you read the e-mail, you know the plan. Now get a-postin' guys! We gotta get to the good part of this story still!)
-------------------------------------
"OK, we've worked on this for three hours and have...three sentences. We're not being lazy, we're being 'thorough'!"

~quoted from real-life Semievil

/^~Gebohq~^\

[This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited June 19, 2002).]

(NSP: You all WANT to post now...

)

(NSP: A post by Krystal that she sent me via e-mail. Much thanks to her, and a note to everyone else that you can do the same--you can even give me a simple outline and I'll write it up. I just need the input from others. With that, here's her post.)

A grey ship in the distance quickly changed into the defined form of the Northman's ship.

"What the hell am I supposed to do Vox?" Krystal screams over the roar of wind and sails flapping. There is no reply. Vox appears to be concentrating deeply. The fairy stares straight ahead, her eyes focused on the northman's ship.

Carol sprints towards Krystal, as much as one could on a speeding sea vessel at any rate. "What's going on?" Carol asked her.

"Something...big."

"What do I do?"

As she readys her bow, looking ahead, Krystal replies "Trust your gut, I guess."

Off to the side, Krystal notices a smaller sea vessel approaching them as well as the Northman ship they were heading for.

B.U.M--

er, oops, wrong thread .

(NSP: Where is everyone? *sniffle*)

*TLTE IS here, simply waiting for Geb to introduce my character (no pressure Geb, heh heh heh)*

Ohh, and Highemperor, being a bit CHOOSY in our "shame-on-you's" aren't we??? I seem to note Semievil starting the B.U.M.P.s, yet he remains unscolded...

*Bright light shined into Highemperor's eyes*

Please explain...?

It seemed that Noddo and Amry were battling wolves for that entire night, or even a week of nights, when they finally broke free of the brush to see what looked like a stairway to heaven, for it stretched up into the stormy clouds.

And Stanin eth Calenb was just stepping off the bottom step. "Hello," he said amiably, and walked past them.

"Hello? Hello?!" Amry yelled. "You disappear on some secret mission, leave us hanging to fight through the forest of a thousand wolves, and when we finally catch up with you, that's all you have to say?!"

Stanin paused, thinking. After a moment, he added, "How are you?"

"ARGH!" Raging, Amry stomped up to him and gathered up a fistful of his tunic in her fist. "YOU STOP RIGHT HERE AND LISTEN TO ME NOW YOU UNGRATEFUL OLD FOOL I'VE LEFT EVERYTHING FOR YOU WATCHING OVER THAT SLOB SEEING THE WEIRDEST THINGS ON EARTH WITH NO EXPLANATION JUST SO YOU COULD WANDER OFF ON SOME FOOL QUEST THAT OBVIOUSLY HAS FAILED AND NOW MY HEART'S BROKEN!" Gasping for breath, Amry suddenly realized that she had probably said too much.

Realization suddenly dawned on Stanin's face. "Uh. . . I - see. . . Could you, uh, put me down now? Please?" Amry noticed for the first time that in her rage she had lifted the man clear off the ground. He was a lot lighter than he should be - and for that matter, he was looking more frail than he used to, and yet, more. . . alive. She set him down slowly, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

Stanin opened his mouth and came out with several false starts. "Well, uh, that is, I mean, look, it's like this - well, I'm sorry! I admit that I was an arrogant, inconsiderate old fool, and that I was in the wrong. But - I broke your heart?"

Amry stared at him. THIS was certainly not the man she had seen disappear into the forest and fought beside. Apologizing? Her eyes widened. "You-" She noticed Noddo watching their conversation intently and glared at him. He meekly backed away, and Amry began again, "You lost your powers, didn't you?" Stanin nodded. "But. . . you found what you were looking for?" Again, a nod. She searched his eyes, and decided she liked what she saw there. Impulsively she wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him - he really wasn't as tall anymore, was he? - exhibiting more passion for him than she ever had for a "customer".

When she pulled away, Stanin started to speak, but she put her finger to his lips. "I know. You're in love with someone else." She smiled at him, a small smile that nevertheless managed to break down some barriers.

And she knew that that's all it really was she had for Stanin - passion. Not love.

"Hey, now wait just a minute!" Noddo said angrily, coming back from his vantage point in the shadows. "You can't do that! It's - it's-" He continued to sputter. Stanin and Amry grinned at each other. He looked at her, nodded toward Noddo, and she grinned wider. Maybe. Just maybe. It had been the rogue in Stanin she had liked in the first place, and, besides, Noddo wasn't actually that bad in bed-

"YOU!" A voice filled with hate and scorn came from everywhere at once. The insects stop screeching.

Amry muttered breathlessly, "Yarilo." Stanin looked around futilely for the voice's source, and recognized an undercurrent of confusion and fear under the spite of Amry's sister.

Noddo, meanwhile, was frantically darting glances about, and murmuring, "It wasn't me, it wasn't me!"

Yarilo dropped down out of the trees. "You." She pointed to Stanin. "I had you right where I wanted you, and you escaped! I'm not done with you yet!"

Amry charged at her sister, only to discover that she was an apparition conjured up by Yarilo's spells.

Melantha walked out of the trees, every fiber of her body filled with grace, every feature vibrant. "Stanin," you rebuked him sharply, "how can you love me? You abandoned me for your quest! You are using me for your own selfish ends so that YOU can feel better! It's all about you, isn't it, Stanin? The world revolves around you, and if nothing can intercept its orbit! You are a hypocrite, a liar, and a scumbag who cares nothing for others! You-"

During the verbal onslaught, Stanin cringed, beginning to wither, but shortly he straightened, and the lines on his face smoothened. He cut the illusion off. "You're wrong, Melantha. You don't even know who you are. I do. And I love you for it. You are also right. I used to idolize you, to worship you that the blight in my soul might be soothed. I was blind, but now I see. I see you as you really are, and I love you. My love has been laid across the blanket of a thousand years, and has not weakened - no, indeed, it has strengthened. Oh, Melantha, if you only knew how much I love you." He walked toward her. "And if only you were really here now to hear my say those words." He abruptly stopped and walked off into the forest.

------------------
Play epic RPGs such as Year Infinity, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

Krystal suddenly shook herself. The other ship approaching was instantly bumped off of her priorities as she realized that they were not slowing down as they approached the northman ship.

"Bais!" she shouted as loud as she could, running towards the clouds of smoke and vibrantly colored fire at the back of their ship "Shouldn't we be slowing down?"

"Slow... down? ... uhhh... whoops" His expression went through a peculiar sequence of curiousity, realization, fear and finally acceptance as he decided that there was really nothing to be done about it. "Hold on" he said grimly.

-------------------------

Yimir took stock of his situation- it was clear that a little confusion would have to be introduced for him to get away- even with the deamons fighting, the matrix would be hard to sneak out without anyone noticing, and he wanted time to make his decision. Time that the present situation did not give him. He only had one card to play- with a flowing gesture and a half wispered word, he began to disenchant the northman ship. The viking looked up. Yimir lowered his voice even more and toned his gestures down to simple hand motions. The viking looked back to what he had been doing before. Yimir continued, and the ship began to creak.

-------------------------

Bais, Krystal and Carrol braced themselves for impact as Vox flew off the ship, clear of any involvment of the collision. As the two ships met, they did not collide, rather the speeding sailboat simply lurched, shuddered and continued through the northman ship.

-------------------------

Suddenly Yimir’s vision was filled with a vast wall of wood that shot past snapping and creaking, passing straight through the center of the ship. Robert’s dagger, aimed at Ebon Skull’s chest connected with the wood and stuck, and Robert found himself dragged unwillingly through the far hull of the northman ship. Ebon Skull was smacked to the side, falling next to Yimir, the viking and the other demon seemed to have been knocked to the other side. Yimir’s jaw dropped as his hand fell, finishing the last gesture of the spell to unlock the northman ship. Again the ship lurched as the stasis spell faded and the northman ship phased completely back into temporal existence.

-------------------------

Bais’ mind was racing. First he had forgotten to slow the ship down, putting them on an inevitable collision course. Then they had started to simply pass through the other ship with little more discomfort than a bump on the road. So now what?

Suddenly Bais was thrown forward straight off the front of his ship… Of course, he had to ask, didn’t he?

------------------------

As the northman ship phased, the stern end of what Yimir hadn’t recognized until now as another ship passed through the hold. For a second, the two ships locked. Then, their respective momentums be totally incompatible, they tore apart. A massive hole opened in the side of the northman ship as the intertwined hulls broke from their respective ships. Through it, the other ship could be seen, still speeding on, but slowing steadily and beginning to take on water through it’s missing stern. For a moment Yimir stared, uncertain of what had just happened as water began to flood in through the side of the northman ship, steadily filling the hold where he now stood.


------------------
The early bird may get the worm-
but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!

(NSP: I'm gonna try and help TLTE out a bit here, as well as steady along some teeny plot things Sem and I worked with. Here it goes...)

After being knocked unconscious for several moments, Krystal and Carol discovered that their situation was quickly sinking. Literally.

As they were nearing the encompassing waters, a gust of white lifted them off the ship and towards the Northman ship they had just collided with.

"...Krona--?" Krystal began, when she was interrupted.

"No time for that," the angel said. Within a few seconds later, Kronaemix glided Krystal and Carol onto the ship Saidelora was on, dropping htem off. In a rushed manner, the angel told them "Don't move," before flying back to the now nearby Northman ship. Shawn raised an eyebrow at the two new people on the ship. Saidelora glanced at the two of them and then at the Northman ship, which now was slowly sinking with a piece of the former ship Krystal and Carol had been on.

"Ye-up," she sighed. "That's Bais alright."

Though the static storm that had surrounded the Northman ship was diminishing, the waters were still choppy. Despite the rough closing in on the Northman ship, Kupala lept off of Saidelora's ship and onto the Northman deck, making his way to finding Bais. Saidelora, Raivus, and the others decided that there place was best on the safety of their own ship, watching the chaos unfold. Lina continued to lie hidden.

-------------------------------------------

Realizing that danger of some magnitude was occuring, namely that inflicted upon the ship he knew as home, Krig sped off some time ago in search of his Northmen friends. Yimir, somewhat disconnected from his surroundings, gazed at the cargo hold filling with water. And a Northman running by panicked twicefold. And a man garbed in blue stepping out into sight who seemed to be having difficulty standing straight. And a man in armor and an explorer's helmet, pushing the Norhtman out of the way and rushing towards Bais. And Space Orca, spurting from the water and grabbing the two men before beginning to fade. And the Northman running away--

Orca!

With the solitary, simplistic thought to follow him, Yimir staggered towards him, using his magic to fade with Space Orca and the other two, whereever they were going. Yimir would straighten out his situation then.

-----------------------------------------

A few meters above the sinking Northman ship, the ethereal beings swirled in a storm of their own battle. Quarsh and Vox. Vox and Kronaemix. Kronaemix and Quarsh. All clashing together in flashes of lightning and wind and fire. Ebon Skull was beginning to recover, and noticed Robert, clawing his way back into the cargo hold, where Ebon was certain the martix of Volsang was lying.

The chaos only increased as Raivus, despite Saidelora trying to prevent him from doing otherwise, got involved on the Northman ship.

(NSP: Note that the fights on the sinking ship are CHAOTIC, basically leaving open anything to happen. Just keep the e-mails in mind, and for those characters that are rather mortal, they might try to board Saidelora's ship All the ethereal beings are there to obtain the matrix, Krig wishes to save his friends, Yimir, Orca, Bais and Kupala are now not there (I or Sem will take care of that) Raivus is discovering his newfound freedom in power, leaving Saidelora concerned about Raivus' condition (only practically for her plans) and Krystal, carol, Shawn and Lina, leaving them to play out any internal battles as they talk to each other and boarding members. If you got any questions, comments, etc, e-mail me, and I will answer them. I have typed for much too long now, and require sleep. Fare thee well. And go look at some of my earlier recent posts--I added signatures to them )
---------------------------------
"I fear what truth may come in reach as I fall asleep, only to loose when I wake."

self-quote, -Dreamer's Addiction

¿?¿Gebohq¿?¿

[This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited June 19, 2002).]

B
U
M
P

NSP: I'm not sure if I will be able to write another actual post. But, I guess I could possibly collaborate with someone if needed.

*goes into shock from seeing Krys post while everyone else is too lazy*

------------------
The early bird may get the worm-
but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!

(NSP: Feel free to progress without me, as I am fairly competent that, after the multitude of stuff I sent all you writers, that you'd be able to finish this, though stopping at the champion battle is understandable as well. Still, if you've got any questions or things you need help on, either Highemperor, Semievil, or Krig the Viking will be able to help, I'm sure. With that said, here's the post probably only I could do.)

Amry Embos's focused on Stanin as he abruptly walked into the woods. Though she knew somehow that her outlook on the nature of relationships had deepened, her conscience perspective felt fuzzy. What kind of relationship did she want in another? What was intimate to her? She did not have much time to dwell on it though, as the image of Melantha fell, revealing her sister Yarilo, who was apparently fustrated. Amry noticed that Yarilo's fustration presented a weakened side that Amry had only seen a few times before.

"Damn him..." Yarilo muttered, her voice low and slightly shaking.

"What is it?" Amry asked. Images of her childhood with Yarilo had invoked her sympathy, remembering that she was her sister.

"Did you get the chance to screw him too?" Yarilo said. She smiled as Amry's compassion turned into an empty rage.

"**** you! Why are you doing this?" Amry said, more confused than anything else.

"Because I envy you!" Yarilo screamed at her?

"What?!?!?!"

Just then, Stanin walked back into their presence, with Noddo. The two of them looked to their sides as if others were walking with them.

"We must go now," Stanin said. "No time to explain.

Before Amry or any of the others can object, Stanin grabs Amry and Noddo holds onto Yarilo. Amry and Yarilo can feel an unseen presence holding onto them, as the four of them dissapeared.
---------------------------------------------

Within the Shamoorian fortress, Diaszu and Jirverak stood facing Strage. The two of them stopped, expecting Strage to say something or launch some attack on them. Strage, having noticed their presence though, simply looked upon the two, as if ready to watch someone audition for him. An awkward stiffness grew.

Jirverak broke into the first strike. Diaszu and Strage each began chanting arcane words. Jirverak sword strikes, and a magic shield ripples in front, but at the same time, a virtual field of shadowy images of Jirverak strike Strage, each at a different place. The room shuddered, and the magic field faded away. Glaring at Diaszu, Strage flung his arms downward, sending Jirverak and Diaszu falling to the ground. Strage moved at an amazingly fast speed towards Diaszu, but began gasping for breathe as he realized that Diaszu was moving the energy he was using to Jirverak. Strage attempted to break the spell, but realized too late as Jirverak advanced at a blinding speed, hacking away at Strage. Much like many enchanters of the past though, Strage had used a stasis spell on himself, keeping him portected from death.

Diaszu and Jirverak's apparently good fortune turned as Strage kicked Jirverak away, sending him into Diaszu. Standing, Strage swung his forearm to his side as if possibly striking, but instead the entire left side of the floor rose, glowing red hot into molten rock, and advanced like a ocean wave, slamming both Diaszu and Jirverak into the opposing wall. The molten rock soon solidified, encasing the two against the wall. Strage, breathing heavily, allowed himself a thin smile.

His eyes widened in shock as he soon saw the two figures seemingly emerge from the new rock wall, speeding at speeds that could hardly be seen. He watched as Jirverak seemed to slice through him several times, and saw as the two of them seemed to stop, though it was apparent that they were still moving amazingly fast, and that Diaszu was attempting to cast another spell. Strage was ready to throw everything he had at them when he felt parts of his body pulling at opposite directions. The two slowed back into normal speed, and Strage's body broke apart into a multitude of sections, each sent flying across a different part of the room. Jirverak allowed himself a smile, while Diaszu was still recovering from the upper torso section that spewed blood all over his face.

Just then, Saatch entered the chamber, his face dawning on the realization that these two were indeed followers of Nature and Evil. His face filled with a heavy dissapointment, he approached the two, acknowledging to other presences not apparent to Diaszu or Jirverak.

"We must go now," Saatch said. Before either could object, each could feel a presence holding on to them. The three vanished in a flash of colors.

(NSP: The dissapearances, btw, are because they are being teleported by angels, demons, and fairies, to the Arena. The Northman ship scene still needs resolving before they can be transported, and after that, the champions should be chosen, followed by the preperation of the contest and the contest/decamillenial battle itself.)
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"...Stop this tormented game!
Stop your meaningless prayer!
Stop the torture, the voices, the hopeless despair!
Make them stop, make them stop, make them stop!

Give me an answer! I don't know what is true...."

"Last Rights" ~Last Rights by Matthew Martelli

(NSP: Wow, it's been a long time since I posted here! It's good to be back!)

The angry sky roiled and churned, dark clouds raging at the tempestuous waters below. The sea upon which the ship of the time-locked Northmen had been imprisoned was finally free, and it was making up for lost time. As lightning crackled and thunder shook the sky, the waves roared with a tremendous fury. As two Northman ships, buffeted by the waves, slowly sank beneath the sea a third ship, a small cutter, shuddered under the force of the ocean's attack and just barely remained afloat.

Upon one of the sinking Northman ships, a small red-haired figure clung to the broken mast, hanging on for dear life as a monstrous wave pummeled the deck. When the wave receeded, the stern of the ship was completely submerged, and the ship was beginning to tilt dangerously. Krig squinted into the howling wind, looking for his friends. Near the bow of the ship, the lad he'd been following clung to the entrance of the cargo hold, tossed around like a wet rag, apparently afraid even though this weather was mild compared to what Krig was used to. Behind the lad lurked a large, dark shape. A very bad man, like the one that had taken Krig here but not like him too, making his way toward the lad through the roaring waves. Suddenly, Krig caught sight of one of his Northman friends! He was standing on the deck between the lad and the bad man! He lifted his sword and struck at the bad man! But then, as Krig watched in horror, the bad man shrugged off the Northman's blow and swung his hand at him, sending Krig's friend flying into the seething ocean! Krig stared incredulously, and then took action.

With a bellow of fury, Krig let go of the broken mast and brandished his axe. He reached the bad stranger in two nimble steps, sure of himself now that he was back in familiar territory. His axe sank into the bad stranger's back, and another wave smashed into the ship, causing Krig to slip. He caught himself on the edge of the hull, still holding his axe. The bad stranger was nearing the nice lad, looking as if the axe blow had not harmed him at all. Krig lunged forward again, but this time the bad stranger looked back in time to see him coming. The bad man pointed his hand at Krig, and Krig felt like he'd just slammed into a wall. Something pushed him backwards very fast, backwards off of the ship and out into the open sea.

-----------------------

Robert clung to the edge of the entrance to the cargo hold with all his strength. The angry waves threatened to rip him off of the ship and tear him to pieces. He'd never seen the ocean before; never seen the treacherous side of the sea. But that was the least of his worries. For the one known as Ebon Skull continued to make his way towards him. The man - the creature - had just shrugged off two blows that should have killed him like they were nothing, and dispatched the two attackers with equal ease. Quarsh was nowhere to be seen, and Robert was defenseless against this thing, whatever it was. He'd given up trying to rationalize all the things that were happening to him for now, he could do that later. Right now he had to stay alive.

Another wave broke onto the ship violently, and Robert held on desperately. When it passed, he looked back at the one known as Ebon Skull. Ebon Skull looked back at him, his eyes burning with hatred.

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On the deck of Saidelora's ship, Saidelora stood by the mast, arms outstretched. She screamed into the wind, but the noise of the storm snatched her words away. She would not come so close to the fruition of her plan, just to be defeated by a mere anomaly in the weather. Using all of her magical talent, she struggled to keep the ship from capsizing. She would not be defeated.

On the ship's deck, Krystal and Carol held onto whatever they could to keep from being washed overboard. Carol tried to say something, but Krystal couldn't hear. Suddenly, a wave came out of nowhere, and Carol lost her grip. She screamed noiselessly into the howl of the storm, and the wave tore her away from Krystal. Krystal watched in horror, unable to help or be washed away herself. Carol tumbled head over heels towards the roaring ocean -- and suddenly stopped. Krystal squinted. Someone had caught her!

---------------------------

Lina screamed at the top of her lungs, but he didn't hear her. Shawn stood up at the bow of the ship, staring intently forward. He couldn't see her, couldn't hear her. If he didn't get down from where he was and find someplace safe, he would be drowned!

Suddenly, something slammed into her midsection and threw her backwards, toward the edge of the ship. She grabbed hold of a loose piece of rigging and stopped herself, holding onto what had slammed into her. It was a person - a woman. She was unconcious, but still alive. Lina held on to her tightly as the storm tried to take her.

-----------------------------

In the bow of Saidelora's ship, Shawn Templer squinted into the storm. There was something out there -- something powerful. It beckoned to him, enticingly. Finally, a real challenge. Suddenly, he sprinted forward, leaping off of the prow of the ship and into the storm.

He splashed to a landing on the severely tilting bottom of the sinking Northman ship. Ahead of him a large dark shape was crouching by the ship's broken mast. Power emanated from it like nothing he'd felt before. This was going to be interesting.

Shawn lunged forward just as a massive wave swamped the Northman ship, and the bow sank deeper into the sea.
--------------------------------

On the deck of Saidelora's ship, a robed figure stood calmly. Huge waves crashed down about him, but not a drop of water touched him. He giggled slightly to himself. He was finally free, finally loosed from that place that had trapped him for so long. Things would be right again.

The robed figure lifted a hand and then brought it down sharply, and another wave slammed down upon the quickly sinking Northman ship. The figure waved his arms about like a madman, and the sea and the wind and the clouds followed his motions furiously. Chaos was everywhere.

The robed figure threw back his head. Faintly, over the deafening roar of the wind and the waves, the sound of a mad raucus cackling could be heard as Raivus laughed desperately. Finally, he was free once more.

[Edit: Changed the above post to reflect TLTE's later one]

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"Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society." --Mark Twain


[This message has been edited by Krig_the_Viking (edited March 26, 2003).]

hey, sorry for the long leave of absence, (geb, I haven't checked my mail lately so that would explain why I haven't responded to anything that you've sent me). I'm not gonna make a post right now but keep a look out in the very near future for one. later

All of the way back at the begining of this page, a rat thing lifts it's arm up, unzipping the zipper in the back a large pink shadow rises, and in cheap dragon ball z style aura's a large pink aura apears, then faids as a lamp shines on the shadow. The shadow is Jedi Kirby, He wears this time a giant 'STAFF' t-shirt. He drops his mushy pink arms to the side and lets out a long sigh. Where the creature was stabbed is an X of orthepedics tape. Jedi Kirby's eyes are black and blue.

'Sure, when no more robotical 10 foot rats are around, they ask Jedi Kirby if he'd like to be in the movie. And what does he say? "Yes mister Hanson, I'd love to be in the movie!" who know this'd happen...'

Jedi kirby turns around

'Jedi Kirby needs a doughnut...'

(Ok, so Jedi Kirby can't be serious about his posts, He will try next time. For now he's just going to do funny things with the big picture idea as though this is a movie and he's all of the painful extra's, K? hey tell me when Jedi Kirby can start up on the never ending story, bye)

Kirb, man, I think you got your stories backwards =P

now I don't mean to sound snooty here, but TEW is a serious story (with delusions of publication in a seriously edited form) and we like to keep our writers fully up to date. I know I'm not the one to be really calling anyone to task about keeping up to date as I have yet to read fully the 2 other stories that the guys wrote in this series, but I would say that at least having read the story and acess to a fair portion of the related notes up to the point of joining is a must.

We like new writers though, and would be happy to bring you on board (though it may be a bit late to intoduce a new character of your own) e-mail gebby for the pertinent info, read up on the story, and e-mail gebby again when you feel ready to start.

As for NES- just come chill. NES has no generally known plot, rules, or even flow, it's just a place where serious writers go to goof off, sharpen dialogue skills, wit, and random elements. You get in NES by writin yourself in (and not trying to end it), so just go post. We don't bite over there

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The early bird may get the worm-
but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!

(take a look at 'Oh How Devine?' Serious...I can be serious, that was just a little joke to pass the time by, if you want, i can easily delete it. I'm wondering if you'd go take a look at oh how devine. This is the first post i've not spoken in the third person, ever. I've only done this to show you that i can be serious, dont get used to it, I wont ever post here again, thank you, goodbye.)