A sign of things to come.

The king rushed through the flaming cooridors, as rubble and debris fell around him in a violent tumult. On all sides, men lay dead, dying, and destroyed. Those able to flee had long since attempted to do so… They’d met their ends in the courtyard. The king fell to the ground in surprise, as a boulder came crashing through one wall and out the other, only narrowly missing him. Luckily, it had flown too high to take out the floor. Thus, he got up, and continued running. As he moved past the massive hole, he could clearly see the invading horde. They were like a sea of darkness upon the land, with battering rams, ballistae, trebuchets, catapults, and a dozen other kinds of siege machines interspersed amongst the throbbing masses. It was all he could do not to weep.

Rounding a charred corner, he came upon the hall of kings. It was as long as the castle was wide, and dotted with holes and corpses, like the rest of the place. On both walls hung scores of portraits, each depicting one his honored predecessors. He ran past the likenesses of Gart the Grave, and his son Yort. Together, they had forged the kingdom, half a millennia past. He also ran past Jardelmere the Wise, Long Lang, Howard Harl, and Jander the Small. For a time, there was nothing but cool night air where there should have been brick and portrait. The catapults had all done their jobs splendidly.

Passing a dying man who feebly reached out for help, the king came across even more paintings that had thus survived. He fled past depictions of Jin Jack, Old Lucas, and Blue Forthel, who had gone off to sea one day, never to return. Those three had seen their reigns, only a few centuries prior.

Continuing his desperate escape, the king only barely avoided being pierced by an enormous ballistae bolt. The serving girl running past him was not so lucky. At that moment, he passed the portrait of Cass, clad in his signature white. Just beyond him was Barthathos the usurper. And beyond him was the usurper of the usurper, Valtre Freid, then his son Vicktor, and his son Vonse, who had died so young. They had been king only two centuries prior.

“Almost there.” The king whispered to himself, hoping against hope that he might survive the day. The holes in the wall became more frequent at that point, and he began to feel the threat of arrows. Luckily though, few ever came close to striking him, and he was lucky enough not to encounter any more boulders. Before long, he was passing the ruined portrait of Gantus the Gallant, his own father. A large oaken door stood just beyond.

Shoving through, he entered the throne room… And found it in ruins. The floor was littered with the royal dead. His lady wife was among them. “No…” He shuddered, his heart bursting. He was too late. That’s when he looked up at the throne.

In the high seat sat a man, clad in black and red armor. It was a strange sort of plate that he’d never before encountered; almost skintight, and abnormally polished, as if it were some sort of mirror. A full helm blocked the man’s face. At least, he assumed it was a man…

“You’ve come to kill me.” The king said in a quivering voice. It was not a question. The dark figure only nodded in response, and rose to its feet.

Stepping forth, its crimson cape billowing in the wind that penetrated through the destroyed walls, the armored figure approached the broken lord.

The king had never been a brave man, but he’d always been dutiful if nothing else. But this time, he ran. It was all he could do. However, the large oaken door suddenly slammed shut as he fled near. Turning in horror, he could only watch helplessly as the figure came to a stop, only a few feet away. Oddly, it did not draw its sword.

“Who are you?!” The king demanded, his back against the wall.

Once again, the figure did not speak. It only removed its helmet.

And the king knew.

Nice.

I will read this as you write it. Good intro so far Trigg.

Oh, this is the only entry. The rest of the story will be an RP.

It's been ALMOST a year since SoS started. I figured it's time to stop putting off the follow-up.

The planned release date is January 10 (SoS's anniversary) But I will push it back depending on how many other RPs are active at the time.

ohSHI-

I thought this was just a story.

You just made me one happy slowpoke/penguin/snail/whatevercreatureIam

Gud.

*Takes Pengor's hat of magickery and escapes into the trees*

i start college january 17th. fugging start it nao D:

Nay!
It is too soon.

But I suppose I could write another passage to help pass the time.

Dagnar woke along the edge of an unfamiliar river. The water before him was as black as night, but the shroud behind him was even darker. Silence reigned amongst the ghastly reeds and willows.

"Where am I?" he asked himself, not expecting an answer. He already knew.

"Dead." Came a gruff voice from nowhere, confirming his suspicions. Dag turned toward the voice, and saw a hooded figure atop a raft, poling its way to shore.

Gently, it came to dock along the riverside. The hooded figure wordlessly beckoned toward him. Unsure of what to do, Dagnar stepped aboard the small watercraft. Immediately, the figure poled off of the bank, and slowly made for the other side. What lay beyond was an even darker darkness.

“So this is the end?” Dagnar said, more to himself than to his mysterious host. “I should have known better.” He grumbled. He’d been the royal bookkeeper, seal bearer, and upper historian for nigh on fifty years. He knew nothing of swords, yet the soldiers in black had come all the same.

They were halfway across the final river. The stream of the end.

Dagnar knew the realm was surely finished. The royal fleet had been destroyed utterly, along with the army. Except of course, those lucky enough to flee; they were able to purchase a few extra days of life... If they were lucky.

A single tear fell down Dagnar’s face. With him, perished the knowledge of salvation.

“Oh, to have but a single day upon the earth again.” he said, to the blackness of the sky. Indeed, the future of the realm seemed as dark as river he floated across. He thought it funny that he worried about others, when he himself was about to plunge into infinity.

“That wish can be granted.” The hooded figure said, his voice a queer rattle. Dagnar was taken aback. “Come again?” he asked.

“Leap into the river. It will carry your soul where it must… But be warned that I can never carry you again.” the figure rattled on, in between pauses and hisses.

Dagnar was confused. “What do you mean? And why would you offer me a second chance?”

“It is offered to all.” The figure answered, “But it is taken by almost none.”

“But why?” Dagnar asked, “If so, why does anyone ever choose to remain in this darkness?”

They grew close to the other side of the river. The void leapt and grasped for the raft on all sides.

The figure continued, “Because once you go back, you may never return… The door to the afterlife will forever be closed... If you so choose to forsake it now.”

Dagnar was silent. The void continued to grow around him, cold and biting, yet soothing at the same time.

"I am needed." said the voice in his head. For once, the voice in his heart agreed. And so, he plunged into the black depths of the waters beneath him… Waters far too cold to not be frozen.

And so he awoke, among the trees and bushes.
Above, the full moon hung quietly in night sky.

Dagnar rose to his feet, and went to meet his destiny.

SOS!
Yay!
RP TIME!!!!

)=<

Heroes of Tomorrow first. Go get it made so that we may enjoy its wondrous bounty.

He was eight feet tall, and smelled of murder. The castle had long since fallen, and the
battle had ceased. But not for him.

The battle was never over for him.

An arm swung in a murderous arc, delivering a massive blade into a fleeing whore. She was split asunder, with her two halves sent spinning in a grisly torrent of blood.

He wasted no time in raising his blade again, to cleave a horse in two, rider and all. Their deaths were even more disturbing. Lungs, intestines, and all manner of viscera sloshed out of the massive holes he'd made in their bodies. The sounds they made were music to his ears.

He stopped for a second, and chuckled merrily to himself. This was what he lived for... If he even lived at all. The siege had been such glorious fun, that he couldn't bear to let the killing end so soon. Therefore, he'd made his way to a nearby village as soon as time allowed.

He had discovered the township well populated, but he would leave it as an unoccupied shell. The elements would complete its destruction in time.

"No! Please!" Somebody shouted. He couldn't see them. His helm obstructed much of his vision. All the same, the noises ceased when he smashed the source with his long, cruel sword.

Placing his blade across his back, he romped into a nearby tavern for some more fun. Ducking under the low doorway, he caught a passing serving-wench by the waist, and tore her apart with his sharp, jagged fingers. Likewise, he disemboweled a nearby man-at-arms, and ripped the head off of a slattern with a disgusting snapping sound. He continued in this horrific manner, until he was the only one left standing. Chuckling more, he strode back into the streets, his cloak flapping around him.

He was beginning to grow bored. No one was putting up a fight. For a change of pace, he ripped the left arm off of a young girl, and began to have his way with her. He was always naked under his humongous cloak for this very reason. Oh yes, she certainly fought, but not in the way that he had wanted. Alas, not a single person came to her defense. He had hoped to rouse some valiant knight to arms, with whom he could have an afternoon duel to the death. all he wanted was a good fight.

Mere wishful thinking. He should have known better. Why would a poor little village have anyone of skill? The only thing it seemed to have in abundance were whorehouses.

Finishing up, he crushed the girl's skull into the concrete below, and struck out toward his next target. Licking the brain and blood from his fingers, he searched for something, anything with a pulse. Finding no other people around, he instead began demolishing his surroundings with his blade. in a single swing, he felled a hut, and demolished a fence. In no time at all, he'd flattened a whole block.

But this began to bore him as well. Yet the night was still young... What was he to do? He'd long since forgotten all other means of entertainment.

The darkest of magics were what drove him. It had been almost a century since he'd forgotten his name, nay, his entire self. There was nothing left in him but the desire to cause death. Yet there was nothing left to hurt... Once upon a time, he had turned his violence on himself when he'd run out of playmates. But he had long since forgotten how to feel pain as well.

Grieving in his bloodless despair, he holstered his blade again, and made for the castle. His men would be glad to see him. They always were. For he was the Shoustegahl, and even gods feared him.

I can't load the pictures, but the stories are good. I'm already thinking of a character, and this time I migth stay for the entire thing.

Yay~ ^.^

Oh god yes, I'm bringing Lock the anti-social half elf and his egotistical hawk Crixus back!

Yes Yes Yes!

lock would still be alive. hawk = dead

I would need to know more about the rp to make a guy, in most games I make a person who is a mix of melee, range and magic.

If possible, I'd want my character to be mainly melee with some slight stealth traits.

meaning throwing knives and lockpicking.

My character already exists in the status-box under my avatar.

For some reason I want to be a court jester in the new rp. I don't know why.....

Haw! Well, if you were a jester at the castle that just got destroyed, I'd be willing to RP some of the bad guys.

"Plates? Nay! Juggle these flaming swords! Blindfolded!"

*Jester takes flaming sword, and makes a dramatic, gruesome escape*

*Bad guy that gave the prisoner a weapon does not pass GO, nor collect $200*

The magic list.
For those of you, thinking about being mages.

You can automatically cast level one, and you gain the next three through character development. Level 5 requires a spellbook, hidden somewhere in the world. You can only learn one level 5 spell.

For bosses, the level indicates how many posts it takes for him/her to charge the spell.

You cannot learn a level 6 spell.


FIRE
Level 5 - Ashen Field
Level 4 - Raze
Level 3 - Scathe
Level 2 - Burn
Level 1 - Cinder

WATER
Level 5 - Drowning Field
Level 4 - Flood
Level 3 - Torrent
Level 2 - Submerge
Level 1 - Water Jet

LIGHTNING
Level 6 - Flijmbafet
Level 5 - Lancing Field
Level 4 - Smite
Level 3 - Electrocute
Level 2 - Bolt
Level 1 - Spark

WIND
Level 5 - Falling Field
Level 4 - Tempest
Level 3 - Tornado
Level 2 - Gale
Level 1 - Straight

EARTH
Level 6 - Shoustegahl
Level 5 - Crushing Field
Level 4 - Earth Split
Level 3 - Quake
Level 2 - Glaive
Level 1 - Tremor

FOREST
Level 5 - Consuming Field
Level 4 - Devour
Level 3 - Drain
Level 2 - Sap
Level 1 - Leech

LIGHT
Level 6 - Almighted
Level 5 - Hollow Field
Level 4 - Holy
Level 3 - Purge
Level 2 - Scour
Level 1 - Shine

DARK
Level 5 - Negative Field
Level 4 - Black Hole
Level 3 - Abyss
Level 2 - Void
Level 1 - Shade


THE SPELL CYCLE
Fire beats Forest beats Earth beats Lightning beats Water beats Fire

Wind has no weakness, but is also the least effective.

Light and Dark are the most powerful, and can only be deflected by a combination of spells double their level, cast before it can be fully charged. Or another light/dark spell of equal level.

I totally want to have a post where I swallow a sword, then pull it out and kill people with it.

It'd be cool.