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  • Shards
    Shards  2 months ago

    Happy New Year!

  • Edrick
    Edrick  2 months ago

    Happy New Year all!

  • EcoTec
    EcoTec  5 months ago

    You the man thanks mate

  • Cuchuwyn
    Cuchuwyn  5 months ago

    There it is!

  • Cuchuwyn
    Cuchuwyn  5 months ago

    -Clickedy-

  • EcoTec
    EcoTec  5 months ago

    Anyone have the thain discord link, thankyou

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    Payne  5 months ago

    Edrick... mad

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    Edrick  5 months ago

    Payne

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    !ofAkindGuy2000  5 months ago

    Thanks.

  • Glognar
    Glognar  5 months ago

    There is! You need to examine the omnidye to find the info. I also think that there is still an error though in one of the numbers.


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Kira
6:24:04 am GMT 02/27/21
Kira !
Registered Member #20 Joined: 8:30:40 am GMT 02/25/04
Posts: 7094
[ image disabled ]

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Kira
6:25:06 am GMT 02/27/21
Kira !
Registered Member #20 Joined: 8:30:40 am GMT 02/25/04
Posts: 7094
I.

Grey fog rose through the air across the Drakamyre gorge. A cool rain had begun to fall across the blighted lands, rain that had pushed some of clouds aside, leaving the blighted lands covered by only a light mist.

Within the ruins walked a dark figure. Tall, with ebon skin, wrapped in a billowing cloak that shrouded her shoulders in black feathers. She held a bladed staff in her hand, long white hair trailing behind her with each gust of wind. The figure paused. She bent to one knee, gathered a handful of ash from the ground. Studying it, before letting the ashes scatter to the wind.

How?

How?

Only days before, the gorge had been infested by the vampires of House At-Tura. An ancient house of Karistad, risen once more, intent on conquering the north and rebuilding their lands.

Kallista had battled the At-Tura family herself. Their house mage, Vartin, held an arrogance and ability to rival her own. Their daughter, Vasillia, had been a vicious, hateful creature, filled with the speed and savagery of a predator. Each had proven dangerous in their own right. And she had anticipated working alongside her Iron City allies to see the house destroyed once and for all.

Now, they were gone. All of them, in a single night. The entire family, down to its mysterious patriarch, disappeared into mist. She sensed their presence nowhere in the gorge. Their spells had been broken. Though the Modara clan seemed to be spreading freely in the At-Tura’s wake.

How had it happened? She had no answers yet, but accounts from a few of the Iron City’s citizens had allowed her to piece some of it together.

It seemed a beautiful girl in white had made her way into Drakamyre from the east. She was joined by a knight of the Kreis, a keeper woman Kallista was fairly certain she had set on fire at one point, and a distinctive pair of necromancers who possessed half of a living body between them.

The group had moved swiftly into the gorge, challenged by the At-Tura family. They had spoken briefly to one matching Vartin’s description, before the combined forces of the vampires had descended on them. They had fled to the Mourning Knight. A spell from the girl shattered the door, as the others held the vampires off.

Then, the vampires of Modara had poured out of the Inn. At Battle joined between the rival clans, Modara and At-Tura. The sounds of battle had filled the gorge as the two families fought one another. And the group, including the girl in white, had disappeared into the Mourning Knight, seemingly using the Modara clan to cover their escape.

Moments later, a strange light had shone from inside the Mourning Knight. A powerful glow that swiftly blanketed the gorge, seeming to draw every member of the At-Tura family to it. The light had pulled at the vampire’s essence, their screams filling the air, until none remained.

Kallista recognized a description of a banishment ritual when she heard it. Some magic, presumably performed by the girl and the necromancers, had banished the whole of the At-Tura family. A clan of elder Karistad vampires, swept from the board in a single move.

But where would the White Rose or any of her companions have found the power to banish such creatures? Creatures ancient and powerful enough that even Kallista had considered them a dangerous foe?

Had the girl discovered some ancient lore, buried in one of her storybooks? Was there some weakness of the family that even Kallista herself had not considered? Had the necromancers had some unimagined trick up their sleeve for destroying the forces of Karistad? The latter seemed most plausible, but surely the girl had to be involved, or they would not have put her in harm’s way.

If she and her strange allies were capable of banishing an ancient vampire clan, what else might the White Rose prove capable of in the days to come?

Kallista knew she would learn the truth in time. She had taken steps to ensure that her daughter could not lie to her directly. But it was a strange feeling not to already know.

She is changing, becoming someone else...

An image came unbidden to Kallista’s mind of a red-haired child in a small stone room in the tower, surrounded by books. A smile on her face as she fell asleep in Kallista’s arms. She pushed the thought away.

The At-Tura’s appeared to be genuinely gone. Whatever the means of their banishment. She would inform her Iron City allies of what she had seen. Perhaps she would even cease hunting the treacherous Ashwood mage, though it would depend on how lenient she felt the next time she saw him.

And it seemed the time had come to take a more serious role in her daughter’s education. The girl’s power was growing. And her future could no longer be left to chance.
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Kira
8:13:09 am GMT 03/07/21
Kira !
Registered Member #20 Joined: 8:30:40 am GMT 02/25/04
Posts: 7094
II.

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Deep within the southern woods, in a forested alcove nestled within the Lumenshire woods, a girl in white sat at the edge of her camp.

A small fire was burning. She had raised up her tent and seated herself on a bedroll in the fire’s light. Her white harp at her side, though she had no will to play it just then. Instead, she was quietly contemplating how quickly in her life had spiraled out of control.

Lauren. Her real name, beneath all of the lies. A man had come to Steinkreis who knew that name. Not only had he known it, he’d spoken openly of it to the Blood Guard, connecting it directly to her assumed name of House Everguard. This meant he (whoever he was) was an enemy. An enemy with the power and will to reveal a secret that would see her publicly executed for treason.

But the rumors from the north were somehow even more frightening. Mother’s tower in the Watch had been blackened and sealed. Under watch by creatures in the Watch’s service. And mother herself was nowhere to be found.

Was her family under attack? Had someone struck at her mother’s tower and attempted to reveal Nicolette’s identity in the same moment? She had only a little information to go on, but that didn’t stop her mind from turning over the pieces. Trying to fit them together.

Mother was all right. Nicolette felt confident in that. Mother didn’t simply die. The world wouldn’t allow that to happen. Mother commanded dragons and brought down entire houses with a wave of her hand. However cruel Kallista was, however dark she became, that she was alive felt like the one certainty in the world. Other people died, and Nicolette mourned them. But mother didn’t die. Mother killed.

And yet, something was clearly wrong. Something had happened to make Kallista D’Mora flee the Watch, and at the same time, someone had come spreading the name Lauren within the Kreis. All of this meant she, Nicolette, was in enormous danger, a likely target for the enemy.

She’d packed her things as soon as she had confirmed what Celestine had told her, having managed to at least shake the blood guard off her trail temporarily. She’d taken only the necessary supplies she’d need for a few days’ travel. A brief note was left with Deayn explaining the situation. The opera house staff had been informed that the White Rose would be away for a few days on family business. And avoiding the sight of the knights, she’d made her way south. The first night had been spent with the gnome atop the snowy reaches of Hammersong mountain. Then, she’d proceeded further south. Heeding the call of the woods, until she was deep enough that she expected no one to easily follow.

She wanted to look for the man who’d revealed her name to Celestine. The man with white eyes. She wanted to find him, perhaps stop him, before things got any worse. But that was probably exactly what the man was expecting, and it was clear he was a dangerous enemy. Her family would have wanted her to get somewhere safe, at least until she understood the situation. And so, she’d traveled into the wilds, until she could find a better plan. At least here, she had time to think.

Besides. Though she didn’t know the white-eyed man, she had a good idea of who must have sent him. It had to be the sorceress Nayritha.

Just days ago, Nicolette had given Nayritha her real name. At the time, she’d had little choice in the matter at the time. It had been a desperate plan to escape a dire situation, the only way she had seen to save a friend’s life.

But surely that choice was what had started all of this. Nayritha had seen an opportunity. A weakness in a rival family, and she had struck hard. Assaulting mother’s tower and hunting for Nicolette, all in a single night.

Which meant, among other things, that this all of this had all been her own fault.

”Once again, you try to help the people around you. And once again you find a way to make things catastrophically worse. It’s a good thing this island has plenty of proper heroes, because you clearly lack the talent for it.”

She tried to silence that mental voice. Tried to focus on the future, not on her own fear. What could she do next?

Her lies might well be collapsing. Steinkreis could already know that the White Rose and Kallista’s daughter were one and the same. If they did, they’d be hunting her. And even if they weren’t hunting, Nayritha would be.

Ramiel, ever her guardian angel, had suggested she leave the island behind. Sail away from it all. Away from the darkness of her mother and all the lies and the pain. He’d suggested she choose a new name and a new life. It had been tempting, just for a moment.

But she’d known it wasn’t possible. Maybe for someone else, but not for her. Whoever she was, whatever lies she’d had to tell. She wasn’t the kind of person who would run when her house or her family or her island was in danger. Whether that danger came from Nayritha, or anyone else.

She had to stay. She had to think of something. There was always a way. She just had to see it.

The fire continued to burn down to embers, as the girl finally fell asleep.

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High atop the storm-soaked mountain of Hammersong. Far away from her tower. The Witch of the North shook with barely contained fury.

Nayritha would die.

The human sorceress had struck first. With a force not felt since the days of Cassia Aurelia. She had forced Kallista from her tower. She had brought a house from the Underdark. She had broke the uneasy peace that had endured in the Watch these last years.

Nayritha would die.

The sorceress had threatened Kallista’s family.

Nayritha would die.

Kallista had worked swiftly. Making her plans. Gathering her allies. A strike would come, the likes of which the Watch had not seen since the death of Krel.

War would come to the north again. She would have her revenge.

And the dragons would be free.
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Kira
6:45:04 am GMT 05/10/21
Kira !
Registered Member #20 Joined: 8:30:40 am GMT 02/25/04
Posts: 7094
III.

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“In the darkness, light will rise.
With my voice, light the skies!”

A white-glowing mist formed around the girl as her voice softly echoed the clearing. The light illuminated the surrounding trees with a soft ivory hue. It flickered like a torch’s flame, before promptly dimming to nothing.

“In the darkness, light will rise.
With my voice, light the skies!”

Again, she sang. Again, the light flickered into life. As much mist as light, a dim glow that seemed to emanate from her. She could hear the strain in her own voice, feel the ache within her bruised neck. For hours, she’d been trying, and each attempt felt weaker than the last. As before, the light faded from her in seconds.

“In the darkness, light will rise.
With my voice, light the skies!”

This attempt, somehow, went a little better. The glow clung to her fingers, swirling around her hands as she moved them. Controlled by the rise of her voice, though her ability to direct its movement felt limited to say the least. She watched it fade, using the moment before it did to let herself rest. To recover just a piece of her strength.

This was the magic that had been building inside of her. The white glow that rose around her each time she sang. It did not feel like any ordinary light spell or song. She’d felt this light before, in the depths of the paths below. But while the spirit path was an ocean, her magic was a single drop. Weak and flickering, though were it not for the harrowing night she had experienced, it might have been stronger.

She should have stopped there. Waited until the next morning. She wasn’t going to get anywhere like this. In fact, there was a good chance she’d hurt herself at this rate, and she would be of little use to anyone if she wore her own singing voice down to nothing.

“In the darkness, light will rise.
With my voice, light the skies!”

Just as it felt wrong to keep going, it felt wrong to stop. The shadows were coming for her. For her friends. They’d taken Bamaeus, and now Ramiel. How much of a disappointment would she be, if she gave up on them? How much time did she have before Scragg or the shadow mage found their way to her? Or to someone she knew? She might only have hours.

“In the darkness, light will rise.
With my voice, light the skies!”

”To begin with...” argued the voice of reason inside her head. “You don’t even know if this practice is helping you at all. Your magic has grown with time, but it may not be the sort of thing you can practice. It may not be something you can learn without a teacher, or at all. It’s entirely possible that, like the growth of your hair, it will develop at its own pace and won’t care how much effort you exert on it.”

”Secondly, you are exhausted. You will be far more able to defend yourself and your friends if you get the sleep you need. This is what Bamaeus or Ramiel or Seran or Evangeline any other sensible friend would tell you, if they were here.”

These were all very logical, sound arguments that she was proud of herself for making. But heeding them would have meant closing her eyes, remembering everything that had happened. And she wasn’t ready for that yet, so she had to keep singing-...


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Within the mirrored waters of the glade, a pair of crimson eyes watched over the girl in white.

Kallista observed the singer’s practice with dispassionate interest. She watched the strange white light flicker into and out of existence. It arose each time the girl sang, from somewhere within her. Trembling, inconsistent. And yet, it had always been present. From the very beginning, for one with the eyes to see it.

A white light unlike any magic Kallista herself could command. For all of her arcane power. A white light that grew a little stronger each day.

Even before she had ever fallen in love with the human orphan who would become her daughter, there was a reason Kallista had chosen this particular girl.

She had not always known what her wars might come to cost her. But she had always known that she would need to claim power. Even if it meant brushing her fingers through the depths of the void itself.

The void was nothingness. It was entropy itself. All the power in the world might not keep her safe from it, once she had felt its touch. It would twist her, drive her mad with its nightmares. And Kallista had touched the void many times.

But when the shadows came for her, she would have a weapon. A weapon that sang with beautiful music and danced upon her woven strings.

“In the darkness, light will rise.
With my voice, light the skies!”

The witch of the north looked away from a brighter flash of white light. It faded gradually, until the mirror reflected only her own fond smile.
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Kira
7:32:39 pm GMT 05/31/21
Kira !
Registered Member #20 Joined: 8:30:40 am GMT 02/25/04
Posts: 7094
IV.

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For days, they had run through the woods. The girl in white, pursuing the vision of the stag.

Through brush and rocky canyon. Through the north’s most ancient trees and moors. Her face was covered in scratches from a bramble bush she’d charged through headlong. There were stickers in her hair that would take hours to untangle. None of the pain or discomfort felt important enough to notice. The stag was all that mattered.

The stag was the answer. It was the light that would save her and her friends and her city from the shadows that wanted to swallow them. It was the spirit of the White Rose. She could feel in her heart how important it was.

And it wouldn’t let her near. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how she pushed herself.

Deeper into the woods the girl ran, heedless of the dangers...

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The chase had ended with her no closer than it had began. She had fallen to her hands and knees, gasping for breath. The white stag looked at her calmly from across the clearing, its brilliant light illuminating the trees. The dark eyes stared at her, full of silent judgment.

“...I know you don’t trust me.”


The stag only looked at her. Expectant.

“I understand why. I’ve lied to all of them. To my people, to my closest friends.”


The stag remained still. Judging her every word.

”You’re the spirit of Nimmeril.
They called you the White Rose of Avandor.
You led the elves to Feywood, guided them when hope was lost.”


The stag showed no sign that her words were right or wrong. A hoof dragged across the forest ground.

”I...wish I could have known what you were like, when you began.
If you were like me. If you made mistakes like I do. If you questioned, like I do.”


The stag lowered its head. Yet it did not approach.

”I’m not questioning any longer. I know the path I want to walk.
It’s your path. I want to be the White Rose of my people. The way you were for yours.”


Within the stag’s eyes, she saw something reflected. Two figures, wreathed in shadow. One with red eyes, one with green. Her mother and her...

”That’s not what I’ll become...”


The stag did not appear convinced.

”I know you don’t have any reason to believe me.”


The creature’s eyes were steady on her. Silently judging the girl’s soul.

”But..is it so impossible? If you could give life to a child of darkness.
Is it so impossible that a creature of darkness could raise a child of light?”


She saw it, then. A single tear, falling from the stag’s eye. It took a step towards her.

”What else can we do, but try...?”


The stag moved to stand before her. The white light surrounded the creature and the girl, burning brighter. Until it obscured her vision and she felt herself being lifted from the ground...

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In the darkness of the mirror high atop her tower, Kallista watched the moment play out.

She had seen the girl pursue the strange white stag through the woods. She had seen the chase end, and the stag choose the girl of its own accord.

She had seen both of them disappear into light for a time. She had seen how the shadows clung to the creature when they returned, marking these as its final moments.

She had felt the stag die. Its power fading into the wooded moors. The last of its light flowing into the weeping girl, brightening the magic within her. The ghostly figure of a pale elf briefly visible, before it disappeared.

And inside the witch of the north, something snapped into place. She felt herself reach a decision. She knew, the instant she made it, that she had already put off this decision for far too long.

“Scragg.”


Scragg’s dark shape loomed within the mirror beside her. Almost as quickly as the word had escaped her lips. He towered over the sorceress, the light reflecting off of beastial claws and teeth.

”Begin your hunt.”
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Kira
3:37:48 am GMT 07/14/21
Kira !
Registered Member #20 Joined: 8:30:40 am GMT 02/25/04
Posts: 7094
V.

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((Cross-posted from here, for the sake of a more complete story.))

For weeks, she had fought. In the streets of her city, as darkness blotted the sky. In the plane of shadows, as she fought to find her enemy’s secrets. In her mind, as everything she cared for had been broken, a piece at a time.

Now, it had come to this. The forces of light, joined against the darkness. Armored knights on horseback. Champions of the Blood Guard. Orcish warriors. Creatures of the fey. All standing together as one. Like something out of a storybook.

And alongside the heroes, stood a girl in white. A delicate figure that should not have belonged on a battlefield. A girl who’s light was said to be the shadow’s end.

They stood upon a hilltop. The same place she had innocently played her songs for many years. She knew every tree, every flower, every blade of grass. The shadows had twisted it all, turned the place she loved into a darkened battlefield. Flying high above the heroes of the land, astride a shadow dragon was the shade called Vexious Ianril. Her enemy.

No words were shared between the light and the darkness. There was no chance for compromise. The shadow dragon dove into them, breathing the fog of nightmares, and battle was joined. The flames of the isle’s blood flared around the chaplain Celestine. The voice of sir Sollis rose above the rest, shouting commands to those around him. The panic of battle began to set in as screams filled the air.

Yet the girl in white was not weak, or stupid. She had prepared for this moment. She gripped a white feather in her hand, taken from deep within the forests of the Heartwood. And as she held it, her form changed. She became a bird, brilliant and white. Soaring into the skies in a display of white light.

Her talons slashed across the dragon’s eyes, narrowly avoiding the snapping of its massive jaws. Beneath her, Sollis and his archers sent metal hooks into the beast’s hide, dragging it down. The blinded dragon roared its fury.

Vexious leapt from his mount. The shade king descended towards the ground far below. The girl followed, abandoning the strange avian form. She landed beside him, shielded from his magic by the heroes who stood all around her.

And with blinding white light rising all around her, she rushed towards the shade who had taken everything. The brilliant image of a stag forming all around the girl, trampling the shadows until nothing remained.


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“Awaken.”

The familiar voice seemed to reach through the fog in her mind. Like a hand pulling her upwards through dark water. Nicolette snapped awake with a choking gasp. Her prone body startling, twisting. She found herself looking into her mother’s piercing crimson eyes. Eyes she hadn’t seen in months...

There was a twist of pain within her midsection as she moved. She looked down and saw that she had been bandaged, dressed in a simple white dress. A room within some sort of tower, though it wasn’t the tower she’d grown up in. Memories flooded through her mind, jumbled. A battle on the hilltop, a crypt, a dragon circling overhead...

“Did I stop him?” Her words were spoken with urgency, as she tried to piece together how she had gotten here. “Did we stop Vexious? Mother, did I...do it right?”

“You have done adequately.”

The witch of the north’s voice was calm. Chilling. Her accented tones seeming to fill the room as her eyes judged the wounded girl upon the bed.

“Vexious Ianril is not gone, but he is sealed for a time. The human city you wished to protect is protected. Most of your allies survived the battle.” A brief smile crossed the sorceresses dark lips. “Why, even now the Kries moves to build a statue in honor of those who fought so hard for them...”

Nicolette startled at those words, sitting upright. The memories flooding back faster now. The portal, the tomb. The city under siege. A dark hand moved to push the girl back down.

“-...Or so they would do, if they held one shred of the nobility and grace you naively imagine. The true Steinkreis, of course, is a city of fat self-impressed fools and corrupt criminals. A city that was happy to use you for your beauty, then let you die fetching their water while they offered nothing in return. Most likely, the truth will be rewritten in their history books to favor the valor of your hated Lord Telmoran or whatever noble gains control of the statuary. You should consider this lesson carefully, child, the next time you decide a cause is worth laying down your life for simply because it is the cause that happens to be in front of you.”

She swallowed hard. The words fell like hammerstrikes upon her psyche, threatening to push her back into the black abyss. For a moment, she was silent. Collecting her thoughts. All the while, Kallista seemed to study her, as if the witch were learning the habits of an alien creature through observation.

“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” Her voice echoed the pain of the last weeks. A pain no longer hidden behind masks. “I could have died so many times.” The more memories flooded back to her, the more her voice felt strained. “He was older than I am. More powerful, more deadly.” Nicolette looked up at her mother, a sadness in her eyes. “I know you don’t want me to die. But you never tried to help...”

The last word saw the dark elf’s gaze twitch with a flash of disdain. Taking on the lecturing tone she used when she explained something that she expected the girl should have already understood.

“By your own words, little one, Vexious Ianril sought to master the shadows beneath the island. He sought to bind the darkness to his cause in order to save his city of Vongottstein. Tell me. Did the city of Vongottstein stand?”

“No...”

“Then Vexious failed the only test that mattered. Whatever his abilities...”
There was a flash of annoyance in the voice.
“...He has never known power. He crumbled beneath power’s touch the first time it deigned to look upon him. That is why only the most weak-minded creatures ever bent the knee to him or his Shadowguard. It is why I ignored his overtures towards me. It is why I knew your light would be enough.”

A moment of silence followed as the songstress processed this. What was real power, if not marching against a city? She tried to piece the thoughts together in her mind, but it was like trying to build a mirror from shards of glass.

Somewhere within all of it, she found her resolve. Nicolette looked directly into the crimson eyes. All the long-suppressed words, the ones she’d told herself were waiting until Vexious fall, started to come forth onto her lips at once. “I’m tired of lying.” She looked at her mother, a light of hope shining within the girl’s voice. “I want to make my own choices. I want to be the White Rose. I want to tell my truth. The way Nimmeril-...”

As she spoke Nimmeril’s name, Nicolette’s voice died in her throat. As if an icy hand had wrapped around her neck, choking the breath from her lungs. Her lips moved, but there was no sound, only gasping. Her hands clutching at her throat, where there was nothing but a dark necklace. Kallista remained motionless, showing no signs of exerting any power or effort.

The witch’s dark hand moved to catch the girl’s chin. Holding her gaze with a reproachful look that said more than words could have.
“My secrets are not yours to tell, child. Including the secret of your name. Your heroic aspirations, your fame, the hope you give to others. They are lies and performance, nothing more. Before you are anything else, you are a flower in my garden.”

Still, she tried to speak. To argue against her mother. And still no voice would come to her. There were tears forming within the girl’s eyes, but the only sound she could offer was a strangled gasp.

“This is for your protection, child, as well as mine. You have no idea at how quickly your most loyal allies will turn against you. I would spare you that fate a little while longer.”

Lauren stopped trying to fight the hold. She had no more strength to fight, in that moment. She leaned her head back against the pillow, letting the constricting sensation in her throat subside. Her mother rose from beside the bed, standing. Taking her staff in hand, as if she were making ready to leave.

“Why did you choose me, all those years ago?” Her voice was weakened, barely above a whisper. But the questions were too important not to ask. “What is it you intend for me? Why do all of this...?”

“I wish for you to become what you are meant to be. A bright light shining against the darkness. That is my desire.”


She looked up, as a cutting smile crossed the dark elf’s face.

“The rest, you will discover for yourself in time. Sleep now, ussta cryso. It is time we bring you home...”

The world faded once more to swirling darkness, as she felt herself moving...
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Kira
3:37:58 am GMT 07/14/21
Kira !
Registered Member #20 Joined: 8:30:40 am GMT 02/25/04
Posts: 7094
VI.

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Through the gates of Dragon’s Watch they had torn a path. Her magic had ripped one of the towers down to make a bridge across the moat, magic and steel and flame lighting their way as the Hell Knights marched across.

Through the streets of the city, they had fought. Blood staining the grass of the Watch. Dragonkin against dragonkin, former ally against former ally.

In the waters, the fleet of the Sons of Fhelkorn had cut off Nayritha’s escape. On the land, the crimson walls of Hell Knights had ensured none would leave the city until they surrendered to the invaders. The Goliath of Dragon’s Watch lay broken in the harbor, laid low by her magic and the adaptiveness of a duergar who had (surprisingly, to Kallista) lived through her uses of him.

Through the various defenses the sorceress had built, through all the surprises and tricks Nayritha could muster, all had gone to plan. Her alliances had held. The darkness of the north coming together for just long enough to defeat its common enemy.

Now, it had come to this. They stood atop Nayritha’s tower, having paid dearly in blood at each floor they had climbed through the defenders. They faced off against their enemy, who stood alone. The sorceress who had raised the Watch from nothing. The human who had sought to hold power over monsters.

”It ends now...”

Nayritha’s familiar, a powerful black serpent, leapt forward. Striking without warning or hesitation. A magical storm of aether built around Nayritha, growing in strength. Kallista leapt into that storm with abandon, raising her staff to bring it forcibly against the human sorceresses’ own. The two matched one another spell for spell, strength for strength.

As one, the monsters of the Watch set upon the human who had controlled and betrayed them. Aldorian’s hellfires lit the room in brilliant crimson. The human sorceress was thrown back, shattering her own mirror with the impact. Reeling and weakened from the repeated blows.

Melphaecto’s black arrow flew into Nayritha’s eye. The human sorceress who had challenged Kallista fell onto her back, screaming in agony.

And with malice in her eyes, drawing strength from the storm of magic all around her, the witch of the north stabbed her bladed staff through blackened heart.

The storm of aether continued to build, until the tower itself began to crumble beneath their feet...

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The first thing she had found was a suitable balcony. A place to look out over the new Dragon’s Watch. It wasn’t the lofty perch over the city Kallista had once been used too, but in the moment it would suffice. After all, the two highest towers in the city had both been ripped down during the siege.

It had been a clear victory. Her greatest rival in the north lay dead. Nayritha’s tower was fallen, along with its sister, the tower of the five. The latter had been a symbol of Tiamat, and though it was a useful home for a time, its final ending had proved most convenient.

Pockets of resistance still remained battling within the streets, yet none now doubted the city would fall under new rule. The rule of a council of shadows, on which she intended to secure a significant measure of control.

The Iron City troops were marching home. Their deal and vengeance fulfilled. They would maintain an embassy within the city, but she had not been about to permit them to establish a permanent garrison. Particularly after their representative’s clever bit of treachery.

This, after all, was bigger than the ambitions of one city, including the city of iron. The darkness would sweep through the north. The beasts of the shadows, the drow, the dragons, all would come together. They would never again live under the rule of a human. The shadows would spread across the north, and within them, she would have the power she’d always desired.

Now all that remained was to figure out where the troublesome devil had spirited her White Rose away.

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Before a council of elves, gathered beside the most ancient and powerful tree in the south, stood a girl in white.

She was nervous. But it felt sensible to be nervous. Any one of the elves present was ten times her years. And the gathering was not meant for humans like her. Already, some looked at her as a child, a curiosity, perhaps wondering why such a creature as her would have been granted audience.

That, and the words she was about to say might get everyone killed.

The council had first shared stories of the elven past. Spoken of knowledge of ancient secrets. Much of it had been in elven, a language she did not actually speak. But now, at her request, they would listen to her. For she’d promised she had something worthwhile to tell them.

She moved to stand before the council, dozens of ancient eyes fixed on her. As she tried to find her words.

The white light had been entrusted to her. Nimmeril’s light. The light of the spirit. It was a gift. Protecting it was more important than her feelings. More important than her life, what affection she might still feel for her family. What fear she might feel at her mother’s wrath.

And if she continued to do nothing, that light would fall into Kallista’s hands. It would become another weapon, another piece she’d use in her endless schemes and wars. And she, the White Rose, could not let that happen.

It was a painful decision. One that left a sadness in her heart. But not one that left the girl with any trace of doubt.

“My true name is Lauren.”


There was a lump in her throat that sought to prevent her from speaking. Yet she had to speak.

“Before I was the White Rose, I was a girl from nowhere...”


The elven council watched her, expectantly.

“I’m the adopted daughter of Kallista D’Mora. And I know, in time, she’ll come for me.”


With a trembling voice that grew stronger with each word, she began to tell her truth...
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Kira
5:38:50 am GMT 08/24/21
Kira !
Registered Member #20 Joined: 8:30:40 am GMT 02/25/04
Posts: 7094
VII.

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“...My sentencing to you, as the adopted daughter of Kallista D’Mora, is death by fire....”

“...Burn the betrayer...”

“...She is found innocent of all charges...”

“...Welcome to the family...”

“...Nicolette Adair...”

Within her chambers, Nicolette’s eyes opened. Sunlight filtered in through the curtains of her bed, as the remnants of her dream faded slowly away.

The past weeks were all still a jumble in her mind. It had been one life-changing moment flowing into another, swirling about her like a whirlwind. The Greenvale elves’ had forgiven her crimes and lies, accepting her as the White Rose. Then she’d been arrested at the hands of Steinkreis. Imprisoned, placed on trial, sentenced by Bargus Telmoran to burn...

She sat upright. Her red hair, tousled from sleep, falling about her shoulders. A few deep breaths, and she lifted herself out of bed, her fingers brushing the curtains aside. Her room was filled, as it should be, with the smell of roses. Decorated with greenery from the Kreisian forests. Her beautiful white harp rested on the desk. Beside it was her journal, battered yet familiar. And beside that, the ring of House Adair that had been forged when she was given her new name.

Nicolette Adair. The White Rose. That was who she was now, legal and official. Not the Witch’s child. Not a child at all, in fact. She was now a young noble of Steinkreis. One of the city’s richest families, with all of the power and privilege that title entailed.

Of course, there had been consequences. Many of the people of the city still hated her, for one thing. Facing the shadows had been one thing, but she wasn’t used to being hated, as such. There had been mobs, actual angry mobs, calling for her blood, and that had twisted at her heart in a way time wouldn’t easily mend. She’d been banished from Hamley, which hurt a little. And the Northlands, which had been like a thorn through her heart when she'd heard it.

Her name was besmirched. There was no denying that. The White Rose, that had been a symbol of hope, meant something else to many people now. For some, it was a name to be feared, the daughter of the witch. She had a reputation to rebuild, now. Trust she would have to earn back, among the very people who now hated her. She tried to take some comfort in the idea that at least the people marching for her blood had been inspired by her at some point. They wouldn’t hate her so much if she hadn’t already meant something to them before the trial started. It was just a matter of winning their trust again. This time with the truth, instead of clever lies.

She moved to the window, looked out across the city below. Steinkreis had, just days ago, wanted to burn her to ash. To the point of building an actual pyre. And Steinkreis still faced the threat of the shadows, a threat the White Rose was surely supposed to stop.

There was work to do. And yet, as she looked at how the light caught the city’s spires, she felt hopeful.

This was the start of a new chapter for her. A new life.

With all she’d survived, however dark the days ahead might looked. She knew she could survive this too.


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Within a tower of ancient stone, buried deep within the shadows, the Witch of the North hissed the words with a fury that made even her spiders skitter in the opposite direction.

”They do not know pain. But they will.”

She had felt wrath before. But never like this. It twisted in her stomach like coiling serpents. She wanted to tear down the tower she stood in with her bare hands. She wanted to summon her magic and lift the entire island into the sky. She wanted to throw it down into the sea and hear the final screams of every living creature on the island at once.

She should not have felt this way. This twisting, anguished wrath that would not burn away. It felt like something was tearing her apart from within. Dark elves were not meant to feel this.

Yet within the pain, there was clarity. The Dark Mother had already whispered the answer into her ear. Revenge. The pale elves of Greenvale had taken her White Rose from her. And so, the pale elves would pay the price.

It was what Uultak would have wanted. What her goddess would have wanted. Of course, they had been right all along. The greatest enemy of all would always be the pale elves. Their light threatened to take everything from her.

“I am the witch of the North. The last true daughter of Mora. The heir of Syann, all of his power and magic. The one who will command the Void and survive.“

A crackling, untamed blast of lightning arced from her fingers, leaving scorch marks across the tower wall. There were screeches in the darkness as spiders fled.

“I do not need a child. I do not need any human girl.”

Her hand tore across the stones themselves, leaving scratch marks, sending agony through her fingers she barely even noticed.

“I do not...”

She unleashed another bolt. And another.

“...I do not...need...”

“...Anyone...”

The tower shook with the screams of the Witch of the North. Screams that gave way to strangled gasps. And finally to silence.
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