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[IC] - TIDERULER OF MARAN
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<blockquote data-quote="Archon Basileus" data-source="post: 7034837" data-attributes="member: 6855545"><p><strong>MORGRYM</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>The dwarf places the ring around his finger as the others watch. The piece feels loose, almost as if it was about to slip away. The warm touch of metal still retained some of the sphere’s heat, but it was nothing capable of hurting Morgrym’s hand.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>As soon as the druid puts the jewel on, his vision is clouded. A whirlwind of rasp voices, yell in reptilian and draconian, adding to the sudden confusion he’s thrown in. He is surrounded by darkness, held by a sensation of involuntary movement. He feels as if he floated through an ample area, seeking a point of reference. Soon enough, it appears. At first, it is a faint, red gleam in the distance, just a point. As he approaches, it turns into a thin line, dancing as if covered by a dark horizon. Shapes and forms begin to appear against it, and soon enough he realizes he is approaching a fire. Suddenly, he stands atop a cliff, his back turned to black seas, his front contemplating a city-island that burns to ashes. Screams fill the air, swallowing the noisy rasp voices from before. The city, once proud in its high towers and solid stone houses, is now blackened by the fumes of disaster. Morgrym devises conflict in the streets, people being dragged from houses and executed in cold blood. The perpetrators are human, but among them there are other creatures, more terrible and cruel… Suddenly, he understands: he sees one of the temple cities of Phythis, the southern federation of city-states built by mystics from Ashir and Serpentine mages alike. And for some reason… they turned on each other!</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>The dwarf is suddenly pulled off of his musings by a harsh yell, guttural and viper-like, coming right from his side. As he turns, his eyes contemplate a terrible vision. A tall, , slender serpentman, eyes ablaze with the same negative forces that once animated the Fell Knight, glances at him, as if it studied the druid. The black and white scaled creature can hardly be seen completely, the fires dazzling the dwarf’s vision a bit. </strong></p><p><strong>The creature lashes its tail and towers over the dwarf, raising an elaborate staff and showing a body covered in rich adornments that glitter in the lights of destruction. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>“Vradna… You provided his death, have you not, little creature? Hm-hm-ha-ha.” – he laughs an unnatural, strange laugh. “The ambitious foul remained in silence for too long. No matter. Now you hold the ring… And I am willing to parley.” – he pauses for a moment before continuing.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>“He sought the Enslaver, the adorned dagger. Do you have it, little creature? If you do… I’m willing to satisfy our desires in order to have it…” – the creature slowly approaches Morgrym, as the surrounding scenario melts away into darkness once more. He reaches out for the dwarf, attempting to touch him as he approaches. “What say you?”</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>EVERYONE</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>Morgrym enters a lethargic state as he puts on the ring. His eyes closed, his body still, he just shambles slowly, standing in the very same spot. His movements resemble those of a man trying to recognize his surroundings, even though they’re much slower than usual. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>Arvana is the one to speak forth.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>“You don’t suppose he can be hurt, do you?” – she glances at her companions. Slowly, the companions notice some branches entangling Morgrym carefully, surrounding the dwarf without touching him. The Gardener is taking his own precautions.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>“I know not how draconic tradition wave such spells. But the mind is a feeble terrain to be toyed with.”</strong></p><p><strong>Arvana simply shakes her head, concerned. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>“As for the rest of it… I can lead us towards a nomad elfic tribe. They’ve been around, and if anyone can lead you to your man, it is them. Last I heard of them they were east of Kaladrias, striking deals with the villages. I just hope we don’t uncover something bad from all this…” – she points out the ring at Morgrym’s hand, apprehensive. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p></p><p> [MENTION=6801450]Trogdor1992[/MENTION] [MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=6801311]KahlessNestor[/MENTION] [MENTION=6855130]Jago[/MENTION]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Archon Basileus, post: 7034837, member: 6855545"] [B]MORGRYM The dwarf places the ring around his finger as the others watch. The piece feels loose, almost as if it was about to slip away. The warm touch of metal still retained some of the sphere’s heat, but it was nothing capable of hurting Morgrym’s hand. As soon as the druid puts the jewel on, his vision is clouded. A whirlwind of rasp voices, yell in reptilian and draconian, adding to the sudden confusion he’s thrown in. He is surrounded by darkness, held by a sensation of involuntary movement. He feels as if he floated through an ample area, seeking a point of reference. Soon enough, it appears. At first, it is a faint, red gleam in the distance, just a point. As he approaches, it turns into a thin line, dancing as if covered by a dark horizon. Shapes and forms begin to appear against it, and soon enough he realizes he is approaching a fire. Suddenly, he stands atop a cliff, his back turned to black seas, his front contemplating a city-island that burns to ashes. Screams fill the air, swallowing the noisy rasp voices from before. The city, once proud in its high towers and solid stone houses, is now blackened by the fumes of disaster. Morgrym devises conflict in the streets, people being dragged from houses and executed in cold blood. The perpetrators are human, but among them there are other creatures, more terrible and cruel… Suddenly, he understands: he sees one of the temple cities of Phythis, the southern federation of city-states built by mystics from Ashir and Serpentine mages alike. And for some reason… they turned on each other! The dwarf is suddenly pulled off of his musings by a harsh yell, guttural and viper-like, coming right from his side. As he turns, his eyes contemplate a terrible vision. A tall, , slender serpentman, eyes ablaze with the same negative forces that once animated the Fell Knight, glances at him, as if it studied the druid. The black and white scaled creature can hardly be seen completely, the fires dazzling the dwarf’s vision a bit. The creature lashes its tail and towers over the dwarf, raising an elaborate staff and showing a body covered in rich adornments that glitter in the lights of destruction. “Vradna… You provided his death, have you not, little creature? Hm-hm-ha-ha.” – he laughs an unnatural, strange laugh. “The ambitious foul remained in silence for too long. No matter. Now you hold the ring… And I am willing to parley.” – he pauses for a moment before continuing. “He sought the Enslaver, the adorned dagger. Do you have it, little creature? If you do… I’m willing to satisfy our desires in order to have it…” – the creature slowly approaches Morgrym, as the surrounding scenario melts away into darkness once more. He reaches out for the dwarf, attempting to touch him as he approaches. “What say you?” EVERYONE Morgrym enters a lethargic state as he puts on the ring. His eyes closed, his body still, he just shambles slowly, standing in the very same spot. His movements resemble those of a man trying to recognize his surroundings, even though they’re much slower than usual. Arvana is the one to speak forth. “You don’t suppose he can be hurt, do you?” – she glances at her companions. Slowly, the companions notice some branches entangling Morgrym carefully, surrounding the dwarf without touching him. The Gardener is taking his own precautions. “I know not how draconic tradition wave such spells. But the mind is a feeble terrain to be toyed with.” Arvana simply shakes her head, concerned. “As for the rest of it… I can lead us towards a nomad elfic tribe. They’ve been around, and if anyone can lead you to your man, it is them. Last I heard of them they were east of Kaladrias, striking deals with the villages. I just hope we don’t uncover something bad from all this…” – she points out the ring at Morgrym’s hand, apprehensive. [/B] [MENTION=6801450]Trogdor1992[/MENTION] [MENTION=24380]Neurotic[/MENTION] [MENTION=6801311]KahlessNestor[/MENTION] [MENTION=6855130]Jago[/MENTION] [/QUOTE]
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