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NaZdR3G 
New Poster
Joined: 13 Dec 2011
Location: San Jose
Status: Offline
Points: 1
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 Posted: 13 Dec 2011 at 22:28 |
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Emperor NaZdR3G stepped onto the open plains of Elgea, determined to make his mark upon the world. The first city was founded with the name Dysphoria, in a humorous honoring of the mental state of his subjects forever bound in service to their lord. Great efforts were made to build and expand, and the Emperor's efforts garnered the favor of the Lioness. With the approval of the Lord Rahl himself, Emperor NaZdR3G was welcomed into the D'Haran Empire.
It was not long before settlers were forced out of their comfortable homes, to take up residence on the fringe of Kul-Tar. First born was the town of Dementia, its crazed inhabitants constantly fighting off insanity as they work without end in service of their lord. They dedicate themselves to diplomatic efforts of scouting and spying in the service of the head consulate at Dysphoria.
The enclave of Stolidity formed next of the emperor's most stalwart subjects. They too are bound in eternal service but look upon it as a required duty, all subjects of the local regent understand their role in the empire's machinations. They too work towards the good of the head consulate, and tithe their hard earned resources daily to feed Dysphoria's insatiable desire for rapid growth.
As the empire expanded, Emperor NaZdR3G appointed and trained military commanders. Strategies and tactics were learned, and the first raids began. Cities abandoned by their leaders, their citizens without defense or recourse, watched their hard earned assets quickly seized by the Emperor's will. But there was a strong desire now to utilize this growing military to expand the empire so targets were carefully chosen. With the approval of the Lord Rahl, the start of conquest began.
In a hail of catapult fire the first of the fallen, the sad citizens of Amfilochia, surrendered their will to the Emperor and were given the label of Malcontent. Forever resentful of their lot in life, their former master abandoning them and a new power in full control.. The new regent immediately forced the survivors into preparations for exodus into more favorable lands that this city be put to the Emperor's best use. They are quickly learning to accept their lot in life, realizing that service and loyalty result in kindness from their masters.
The next to fall, the town of Beardmore, offered a surprising revelation to Emperor NaZdR3G. The citizens hailed the military commanders as saviors, immediately offering up their town and renaming it Penitency. They see the Emperor as a holy savior, delivering them from the leaderless position they were left in when their master left the continent of Elgea for greener pastures. They will forever serve faithfully in tribute to their new ruler.
The developing cities, lead by the might of Dysphoria, constantly work in service to the D'Haran Empire. But this bloodthirsty nature is carefully controlled, for the Emperor refuses to be the aggressor against an active nation. Rather, the Emperor's subjects embrace the policies of Mercantalism, and seek to actively trade with the residents of the Elgean continent.
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Southern Dwarf
Forum Warrior
Joined: 28 Sep 2011
Status: Offline
Points: 281
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Posted: 13 Dec 2011 at 23:02 |
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It just was the right weather to go fishing again. The sky was the right kind of blue and there were no storm predicted for several days. The tropical daily rain would not occur that soon and definately no sooner than the sun would reach its heighest point. The sea was calm. It called out to the southern dwarves who well unlike their northern cousins were fond of the sun and prefered much stronger beverage made from tropical fruits. The dwarves raised their sunburnt faces and smiled at each other. It was another beautiful day in the Kingdom of Larn where not war ever occured.
So the peaceful fisherdwarves rowed their boats into deeper water to catch fresh fish for the next of their many feasts. The sea was calm but unnaturally silent. There was no fish in sight although you might have seen even the smallest one in those crystalclear waters. And following those silence the southern dwarves grew disturbed. The smallest ones - not yet hardened by fight with big snakes and jaguars - got even fearful of that silence. Terror filled them when they heart the deep sound and many of them pulled the oars desperately for the shore when the big shadow disappered in the water beyond.
But the braver one watched with caution and battle awareness as the giant shape shoved through the water below. There was some kind of oily liquid rising through the water and forming small ugly patches on the water surface. And the sound growed horrible too. A big constant hum was to be heard and something produced regulare "blobs". Then the shape became visible, distinguishable. It got an iron shell as if it had been armored for battle. There were some strange instruments around and all of sudden a tube breached the ocean surface and a voice spoke to the irritated dwarves.
"Good evening, folks, and welcome to admire my newest creation. It runs on banana cocktails."
And while they smelled the fouly stench of rotten bananas they became aware that the voice originating from this strange tube might belong to the infamous inventor Nasmar Sha'arin, a dwarf who was even considered insane by his liberal southern brethren who whould have appeared crazy to those boring traditional nothern dwarves.
This evening well after the daily rain no fish was brought home but his new "friends" build Nasmar a permanent sanctuary far away from the other southern cities where he could frighten fishes outside the traditional fishing territories. And until some even more insane person devises an engine based on coal somewhere in the future. Larn must hope to not run out of bananas soon. Because if it does there would be war in tropical paradise.
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Prometheuz
Forum Warrior
Joined: 23 Nov 2011
Status: Offline
Points: 230
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Posted: 13 Dec 2011 at 23:25 |
The Avenging SpearKing Sigurd had appointed his Commander Thomas Lannigold to attack the formidable Crimson Dawn mercenaries as part of the war strategy against the barbarians of the north west. the Commander took his orders and engaged the enemy but was captured in the ensuing raids. When King Sigurd came to pursue the mercenary army he noticed a lone warrior attacking and killing many of the enemy soldiers and withdrawing. Attacking, killing and withdrawing again. Sigurd demanded that the lone warrior make himself known. The warrior obliged and came before the King removing the his Corinthian Helm and stated clearly. I am Prometheus He continued by telling the King that Honehn of the Crimson Dawn and burned his village when he was a small boy, killing all his family and that he was of a mind to attack the Crimson Dawn for vengeance of the slaughter that they had visited upon his family. Sigurd was very impressed by this display of courage and his skill with the spear so he asked him to join the war against the mercenaries of The Wastes to free Thomas Lannigold, and he accepted. They ambushed the Crimson Dawn contingent which guarded Thomas and Prometheus fought visciously killing many men ending the battle with a decisive victory for the Kings Army and the freedom of Thomas Lannigold, This exploit made Prometheus one of the most famous warriors of the King's Praetorian Guard and was named the Avenging Spear ! He was given this nickname because he would throw off his armour and shirt when combating the Crimson Dawn as a sign of wishing martyrdom in dedication to of the loss of his beloved family. After his great victory King Sigurd made ready to return his praetorian guard to Centrum in triumph but when they readied to march prometheus was no longer with them. He had slipped away during the night and vanished into the land of The Wastes...
Edited by Prometheuz - 15 Dec 2011 at 00:59
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Piarou
New Poster
Joined: 27 Nov 2011
Status: Offline
Points: 7
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Posted: 14 Dec 2011 at 02:11 |
To the trolls
Erminor looked back at the
cart with dismay as it creaked again. It was a brand new cart,
especially made for tonight. It wasn't supposed to creak. But then
again, it was loaded to the max of its capacity. Yet everything on it
was needed this evening.
It had been a
nerve-wrecking trip so far, up to the fort of Olog Rraus. Everywhere
along the way they had seen signs of past encounters with the trolls.
Burned husks of barricades here, some broken arrow-shafts there. They
had started the trip early to hold small remembrances at each spot
where an elf had died, honouring him or her.
Erminor had been leading
magistrate for the outpost of Salty Breeze right from it's birth, and
it had been a tough job. He had even doubted great magistrate
Piarou's decision of settling here numerous times. But the settlement
grew, and many elven warriors wanted to prove their mettle in this
most dangerous town of all. Which they did. And this was with the
trolls being quite passive as well.
But then came this weird
message. It entailed a great opportunity, albeit dangerous. But to be
able to see the layout of the troll-fort was too good to be ignored.
So they had loaded up the new cart and left, him and 25 of his best
and greatest heroes.
They had reached the
outskirts of the town around the troll-fort, and it loomed up before
them. It was brightly lit from the inside by fires. The cart still
squeaked every now and then, but the roads were more even here. The
houses around them were dark and closed off for the night.
As soon as they neared the
fort itself, they could clearly hear crude but obviously festive
music and singing from within its halls. When they entered the light
falling from the windows they were spotted by a disgruntled looking
guard. “Hmmpf” it said, “me was told yous would come. Wason the
cart?” “We have brought elven wine and strong cheese for the
Christmas party.” Erminor replied. “I'ss call bossman.” the
guard said, pulling on a cord that set of a loud gong inside the
hall.
After several minutes the
door creaked open and a huge troll stepped outside. Grey hairs
sprouted from his numerous warts. “Ahh, you have come. I am happy.
And with goodies. Nice.” “I was surprised by your invitation”
Erminor said. “Hey, it's Christmas. Even your enemies should be
your brothers these days. Come on in.” The elves partied with the
trolls all night long, and realized they were, besides the lack of
true sophistication, not so different after all. 'Oh, how I wish it
was Christmas every day.' Erminor thought as he left the hall, early
in the morning.
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geofrey
Postmaster General
Joined: 31 May 2011
Status: Offline
Points: 1013
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Posted: 14 Dec 2011 at 02:35 |
“Stone. It was not food, nor fertile land that our High Lord seeked when he moved. It was not friends nor enemies that led him away from the Dwarven Lords. Like the noble Kings scarcely remembered, he sought stone to fill his future,” lectured Fandral. His audience was wide awake. They had gotten use to his pre-dawn sermon in the Stinking Rose tavern.
It had been moons since the band of Dwarvish folk set to work under the watchful eye of Fandral. Fandral the Fluffy they called him, but there was nothing fluffy save his beard.
The first few speeches had worked as desired, empowering the craftsmen for the long day of work in front of them. Scores of speeches had been heard since, and by now it was just a part of the routine. A routine they knew almost as well as they knew the mountain the worked with.
Fandral finished off his morning mead, belched eggs and sausage, and continued exclaiming to the hall of Dwarves “It is stone that we Dwarves thrive in. When first Geofrey arrived on the very ground this tavern was build, this was but a mountain side surrounded by fields. He brought with him 11 companions, me among them. His warhammer in hand, Geofrey struck the ground with such thunder that birds are still afraid to touch the ground for fear of it happening again. But the ground went undamaged, and the High Lord looked at me and said “Here.”
“Two weeks after settlers arrived our Lord told me “Greymalkin is only as strong as it’s border, and it’s border is only as strong as it can be defended. Build a wall.”
“And so you stone mason’s were brought from all of Keshalia, united with one goal, “build a wall.” A month after building we had a towering wall fit for any palace, built of the strongest stone from the strongest mountain. Lord Geofrey came to inspect the great wall of Greymalkin, only to shout out “It’s not Dwarves we aim to keep out. Build it higher.” We must spend every moment of light building the wall wider and stronger to keep the unknown enemy at bay. The wall’s of Greymalkin will never fail, so long as we stone mason’s build no weakness into it. Breakfast is over, there is work to be done”
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Faraway Lands
New Poster
Joined: 14 Dec 2011
Location: Read My Usernam
Status: Offline
Points: 9
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Posted: 14 Dec 2011 at 03:12 |
New here but can't stand putting off a good writing contest: The Unworthy Queen as told in our storybooks
Clarence Faron was a picky one, so picky, in fact, that she could have been called unpleasable. She threw away everything: books, wines, servants, floorboards. To make it worse, Ms. Faron could never use proper etiquette in public and looked as bland as a carrot. But she was forgiven again and again because, after all, she was queen. Yes, a queen by blood and not by talent. Her royal parents could never raise her with her endless stumbling and growing incompetence so they died of broken hearts and poisoned stomachs. Ms. Faron just shrugged and continued on her own but from then on carried a more sullen tone.
She was unpopular with the villagers but had requests for marriage all the time. Of course, she thought to herself, all of them are swindlers who only want to be rich. So she kept to herself as the reigning monarch who's only restraint was the royal cabinet. Villagers called her The Widowed Queen, the cabinet called her The Unsatisfied Queen, and neighboring nobles and kings called her The Unworthy Queen. The latter title hurt the most, making her sulk in the corner for hours until someone wondered where she went. Days were spent reading letters and reports, anything to get away from the cruel remarks.
She was happy at only one time of the day. At night, after the servants have settled and the cows have grazed, the mine-diggers get out of work and have a drink. Russy Stein, though, did not join them, instead he walked to the slums of town, back home. Stein was an outcast, mostly because he was a dwarf in the midst of humans. Many called him dirty and short like “the rest of them”. But he was content just going home at night. Everyday he passed Ms. Faron, in the window, watching him. Their eyes caught for just a moment but both knew.
After a year, they left. The castle quiet and the mine downgraded, a cache of gold was gone and several chain-mail were stolen. No note, letter, or sign. The villagers knew the two left together, and good riddance, but one thing was unknown. At a neighboring town, a baby was left at the castle steps. Half dwarf and half human, he was left peacefully sleeping. That was the last thing heard before news was sent that the baby was kicked out.
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Sonnura
New Poster
Joined: 13 Dec 2011
Status: Offline
Points: 21
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Posted: 14 Dec 2011 at 12:54 |
Dear GM Luna, I would like to ask something please. My story turned out a little longer than 400 words (actually 458). Is it still ok to post it or should I find a way to shorten it a little?
Thank you in advance!
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GM Luna
New Poster
Community Manager
Joined: 22 Oct 2011
Location: Illyriad
Status: Offline
Points: 2042
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Posted: 14 Dec 2011 at 14:00 |
 Sonnura wrote:
Dear GM Luna, I would like to ask something please. My story turned out a little longer than 400 words (actually 458). Is it still ok to post it or should I find a way to shorten it a little?
Thank you in advance! |
That's ok. Post away. Luna
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GM Luna | Illyriad Community Manager | community@illyriad.co.uk 
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Sonnura
New Poster
Joined: 13 Dec 2011
Status: Offline
Points: 21
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Posted: 14 Dec 2011 at 15:42 |
The Fool’s Day
The
architect watched the sun dive slowly behind the mountains, painting the sky a
brilliant gold and scarlet. He saw the suns mischievous smile, but it was too
late to aks what it was about; the moon was already rising, slowly and
steadily, taking her rightful place as the town’s night-watcher.
The
night in Milaro was always peaceful, quiet. Only elves, gathered around a fire
and praising their lady moon with songs, broke the silence. The architect
decided to think the sun the next day and went to sleep, with the sound of
music caressing his ears.
Only
the moon saw the mysterious figure appearing suddenly in the town square,
carrying a large sack on his shoulders.
Early
next morning, the citizens discovered in surprise a small fair, with colorful
tents and carts full of marvelous sweets. A very tall man was inviting every
one of them to step into the tents to try some for free. Of course, no one
would turn down such an offer. An no one noticed that nobody ever came out.
The
man was Pelagro, a wizard who used cheap tricks to steal mans knowledge and
then turn them into gems, which he sold in the next town he visited. Very soon,
half the inhabitants where in wooden cases and Pelagro was about to leave, when
Tarryg walked in the tent.
‘I’m
sorry, are there any sweets left?’ he inquired.
The
wizard was startled. He was too occupied with preparing to leave. ‘Yes there
are!\ he said smiling. ‘Here, have one!’
Tarryg
ate it, but nothing happened. The wizard was worried. What was wrong?
‘Where
is everyone else?’ asked the elf after eating a second cake.
‘Was
there anyone else?’ Pelagro asked trying to cloak his fright.
Tarryg
nodded. ‘Yes, you’re right, sorry’ he said. ‘Bye!’
The
wizard finally understood: the elf was too stupid for his cakes to have effect
on him. Relieved, he returned to his preparations. But the elf was too curious
about his crystal ball and picked it up! ‘Oh! Nice!’ he said.
Pelagro
ran to him panicking. ‘NOOO!’ he yelled, but it was late. Tarryg dropped the
ball and it got shattered on the floor. All the elves where released and the
wizard evaporated.
The
town of Milaro declared Tarryg a hero. They erected a statue in his honor and
they created an annual celebration, called “the Fool’s Day”. The architect
smiled, solving the sun’s riddle.
A few days later
Tarryg
stood in front of the statue troubled. One of the sculptors approached him.
‘Did
we get the nose wrong?’ he asked worried.
Tarryg
shook his head. ‘No, the nose seems perfectly fine to me. I was just wondering
who that was’
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Rifiella
New Poster
Joined: 06 Dec 2011
Location: Home
Status: Offline
Points: 10
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Posted: 14 Dec 2011 at 17:31 |
Ryelle frowned as she scoured the report on her live oak
desk. What a day! First, the news about the 'prancer's foot' outbreak. That would
certainly put a damper on revelries at Winter Solstice. And now this graver problem--angry
accusations that elves were plotting to harm human, orkan and dwarven
populations. False accusations, of course, but ones that must be nipped in the
bud.
Ryelle halloed down the vale for Rifiella and Chaleid who quickly
skipped along to her office beneath the Spreading Wisdom Oak
"Greetings Ryelle", they chimed in perfect elven
harmony. Brow furrowed, Ryelle explained: "We have a serious problem and I
think it's coming out of Keppen. If my suspicions are correct, something is
amok at the Steamtastic Brewery. You know how elves despise the insipid lager produced
by the penny-pinching gnome brewmeisters there. My hunch is that the beer is
being either accidentally contaminated or purposefully poisoned. Because we
don't drink it, we aren't getting sick. Because we aren't getting sick, they
are blaming us. To avert kingdom-wide warfare, we must move quickly to solve
this mystery and vindicate elvenkind."
Preparations began apace. Ryelle formulated her famous Teleportation
Spell. Chaleid gathered provisions while Rifiella packed the spellbooks. After
a gulped stirrup cup of mead, the three elves were primed and ready. Poof!
Ryelle teleported them to the brewery.
Arriving arms and legs akimbo, the elves quickly
straightened themselves, huggled and began nimbly scouting the area. Senses
keenly focussed, the elves soon picked up the scent of something wrong. It was
at the water spigot supplying the brewing vats. While the water gushing from
the spigot looked pristine, it was in fact contaminated with Pulchritudinus
malevolencii, one of the wickedest toxins known in the Kingdom.
Ignoring standard diplomatic procedure, the three companions
burst into the Head Brewmeister's office to report their findings. While the
aghast gnome called in his assistants and halted production, Ryelle completed
the Blessed Spell of Cleansing and cast it upon nearby Lake
Sippensit and all of the brewery
infrastructure.
Tired but satisfied, having been soundly thanked and meagrely
rewarded by the gnomes, Ryelle, Chaleid and Rifiella teleported home. In the
Vale, they were greeted with music, mead, revelry and best of all--one of Emily
Jades famous cheesecakes.
One problem was solved, but another remained. Where had the
PM toxin originated? Natural forces or nefarious spells?
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