The snow clung to the fiery curls of the man's beard like the most tenacious burrs or brambles.  The blue paint on his face had long since cracked and flaked to be nearly unrecognizable.  Had it once been a bird?  Hard to tell.  His thick furs held much of the winter's offal as did his gloved hands and large scabbard.  As he walked south through the swirling blizzard, he half hoped one woman had moved on and forgotten him... and half hoped she would be waiting to give him the worst tounge lashing he'd ever recieved...   A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth, and he trudged ever south... back toward civilization...

Everything was neat and elegant, just as he liked it.

The granite dining table set with a complete service of silver-gilt flatware, rich cut glass, and fine burgundy napkins of the softest silk. The Necromancer sat motionless at the head of the ornate table, his index fingers pressed to his lips in thought. The lengthy candles cradled in a pair of five-branched candelabras were burnt down to mere stubs.* Covered plates containing his favorite dish had long grown cold. He finally let out a long, disappointed sigh, resigning himself to the obvious.

That mendacious cunt had stood him up.

Full Name: Lora Ashly Cleo
Nick Names: Fox, Miss. Red, Puppet
Date of Birth: Unknown
Age: 25
Race: Stygian/ Chimerian
Gender: Female
Hair: Blond
Eyes: yellow
Skin: light brown
Height: 5.5
Weight:130lb

Place of Residence: Seen mostly in Kemi

Place of Birth: Stygia
Known Relatives: None

Group/Guild Association: Legion in flames, The Agency, Rose Scribes.
Guild Rank: n/a

Religion/Philosophy: Circle of life
Occupation: Ninja/ assassin

Weapon of Choice: Daggers
Enemies: Unknown
Likes:

Favorite foods: Squash
Favorite Drink: Mint tea
Favorite Color: Red
Dislikes: Know it alls
Hobbies: Clay work, Flute, exercising, and children’s games
Physical Features: Lora has markings of slave of set and portal of set along her body as well as a small tear drop size tattoo of a fox foot behind her left ear.

Next Wednesday, November 11th, the web server will come down in the morning for the installation of a new operating system.  If everything goes as expected, I plan for the site to be back up by noon.  I'll be working to backup everything over the next week, but you should likely go ahead and back up anything truly precious to you (if you don't already have a copy somewhere).  I fully expect everything to come back up as you see it now, but I don't want anyone to lose their creativity because of a technical error.

I plan to lock down RP-Haven during the day Tuesday so I can back up the database without people adding blogs and updating things, etc.

If you have any questions, reply here.

She awoke with a start. Something wasn’t right. “Keptah…” she breathed.


Sitting up in her bed, she looked out her open window into the night sky. She could see the stars, beautiful against the dark expanse. She could no longer feel his presence. He was gone.


She suddenly felt a strong sinking feeling in her chest. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. She quickly cast a simple spell and realized that she was healthy. What could this feeling be? She had heard others talk of love sickness… but surely that could not be what this was. Then again… could it?

Hot Gardack Nights

A mosquito zipped and buzzed about the mammothskin tent, bumping up futilely against the soot covered ceiling searching for an escape.  Neverlin sighed, dabbing the moister from his forehead with a silk napkin and sunk deeper into an arrangement of satin pillows.  Even in the late evening the sticky hot weather was intolerable, and he was sweating like a virgin in the Pyramid of Ancients.  A pile of searing red coals in the center of the tent certainly didn’t help matters either. The mosquito dove towards him suddenly, perilously close, but still just out of the Necromancer’s grasp. With a blink, Neverlin snuffed the life force out of the tiny insect and watched it spiral downward onto the smoldering coals, incinerating it with a faint sizzle.

He really hated the swamps.

Is it possible to embed a chat room into the haven?

I think this would be a good place to do some lve event coordination.

*** After their run in with Amtexa from the Grey Knights, Keptah and
Cymera seek refuge in their Guild City of Hus in Poitain.  They walk to the large study in the Library.***

*** Keptah summons one of the students and instructs him to take Cymera to her room and ensure that she is comfortable.***

[Keptah]: "Cymera?"

[Cymera]: yes?

[Keptah]: "About the scene back there... You do know... that I never meant what I said... about you being nothing to me..."

[Cymera]: *she looks at him almost tenderly* i know that

[Keptah]: **He bows his head in respect.** "I just... was hoping you knew this... And I apologize for letting my anger get the best of me..."

[Cymera]: do not worry... it was justified... *she grimaces* amtexa turned out to be just like the others

[Keptah]: "You must understand..."

"Its fer the best..." 

Doc said as he trudged on through the snow.  He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than the horse he appeared to be talking to...

"She'll hate me... She'll move on... an' She'll be happy an' safe, right?" 

He pets the horse's mane, trying to calm himself.  It doesn't seem to be working.  He frowns and rubs his eyes as he continues to trudge uphill, moving farther and farther into the mountains.

"Its fer the best..."

((Leaving Iraq! :D Losing access to game for a bit D:  I'll keep checking on this from time to time... so if ya wanna keep contact, I'll try to check it out ;)  Love RPing with you guys, and as the governer of the great state of California once said.... I'll be back.))

[Keptah]: "Can you see it ahead of us?" **He asks Cymera**

[Cymera]: yes *she eyes him with a smirk because he looks to be hiding in the bushes*

[Keptah]: "What is it you see?"

[Keptah]: "I ask."

[Cymera]: i assume you are speaking of the ship

[Cymera]: *her eyebrow arches in interest*

[Keptah]: "And it is why you are incorrect, Cymera..."

[Cymera]: what is it you speak of then?

[Keptah]: "Death, war, souls to be left for wandering... Chaos... I see these things as mere objectives which we, meaning; you and I, must come to pass and complete... Together..."

[Keptah]: "You and I, we are one... United... We are legion, yet in two forms... Not one."

[Keptah]: "Twice as strong..."

[Keptah]: "My goals are yours."

[Keptah]: "And yours are mine..."

 [Agatone] shouts: What haunts you man of the shadow? spawn of demons

The sky was obscured by a dense arboreal canopy; the stars and full moon, in turn, were largely obscured by thick cloud cover.

Beneath it all she lay. Still. Ears imagined as twin vessels into which liquid sound would pour. The soundscape clicked and popped with the rustle of foliage and howled with the frigid winds. Beasts stalked prey; the insects sang paeans to would-be mates. Alien noises in an alien place.

The soft rasp of slumbering bodies also could be heard, plaintive and oddly comforting.

The darkness was receding now, and she turned her head, peering over at the Mitran. He had promised to be up for the final watch, a promise now as ethereal as his dreams. Not that it mattered. Unused to the nighttime cacophony of the Cimmerian lowlands, Axun had laid awake for most of the night, drifting in and out of fitful slumber. She had woken the bald pale-skin at one point, only to find him sound asleep again when next she woke.

The river’s gentle pulse very nearly drowns out the small clacking of the prayer beads. Tk-tk-tk, they are chiding.  The Mitran – Cleric, more technically – intently regards the archer bathing there in shallows. She has gone under thrice now and for a third time she rises up from the water, head flung back and then forward, sunrays catching silver strands of riverwater thrown in lazy parabolas from her cropped dark hair.

The darkness embraced her warmly. The moon was high, full.
 
It was the fifth turning.

The falling leaves brushed against her legs, a light tickling. She smiled at the sensation. The air was crisp, the scent of the trees, and wild grasses filled the air. She liked these new boots, it had taken time to make, but the effort had paid off. The sticks could not break through as easily.

She only moved by night now. Sometimes, at the beginning, she had watched those she loved. Giggling to herself, as the “guards” had no idea she was there. Lurking in the tall grasses, curled up in a tree. All to soon though, it became to painful to stay. They had become her family, hearing their laughter. The familiar bickering. Then, all to soon, she heard them calling for her.

It was to dangerous.

Small and wizened is the priest. Dark and golden silks hang from an emaciated frame, as if tossed temporarily and with disdain for ephemeral social conventions, to mellow the truth of this diminutive shuffling figure - truth as embodied in the symbol of twin golden serpents, dangling as a pendant from a grizzled neck. Truth given a face: a bald head, a hawk nose, a diminished but nonetheless masculine form who - along with others of similar countenance - develops and perpetuates reality as perceived and understood by all in their domain.

((Cymera explores the inn in Tesso))

[Agatone]: You have secrets

[Cymera]: who said that?

[Cymera]: *looks around*

[Agatone]: go behind the Inn, we will speak

[Cymera]: *is curious*

((She goes behind the inn and sees Agatone standing in the bushes))

[Cymera]: you! *she spits*

[Agatone]: You keep secrets from your friends and those that call you family..

[Cymera]: i do not!

[Agatone]: *smirks* you think only I follow you in the streets of khemi..

[Cymera]: khemi is my home... i know anyone can follow me... i grew up there

[Agatone]: *grins from behind his mask* then you know you have been watched almost non-stop..even before I came across you with a certin somone yes

[Cymera]: *looks the man over* who else has seen me?

[Agatone]: I do not wish to produce your secret to all..if you wish for me to keep those that already know *smiles at her* Quiet..

Act 3: Love and Bloodshed

Begin here listening to the soundtrack: Deathbed and Maelstrom by Bear McCreary, click this link to begin listening now: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oi3cvpILRr8

Act 2: I’m falling…

(Mirnea’s origin story, parts of which are still a mystery to Mirnea herself. I hope you all enjoy it and there is more coming as I begin to articulate her story on in text that is all my mind at the moment. I am looking for constructive criticism, encouragement and whether you like it or not!

((Some background... Keptah has returned and has begun terrorizing again... Members of the Order of the Silver Dragons have quarantined him in Silverar's Tower until they can find a way to exorcise Keptah from it's human host...  Cymera, a confused necromancer of the guild has come to pay him a visit... ))

[Cymera]: *whispers* keptah...

[Keptah]: **His face remains facing the wall.** "It's funny... Isn't it?"

[Cymera]: what is funny?

[Keptah]: "The way the world works..."

[Cymera]: umm... *feels a little nervous* i guess?

[Keptah]: "Such an amusing joke the way life is created... Like a disease the infection spreads.."

[Keptah]: "When the sun rose.... All my people were destroyed..."

[Cymera]: i did not know that

[Keptah]: "Why mine, when all others only receive joy and life?"

[Keptah]: "Such a cruel little joke."

Chymera relaxed stood alone outside the Serpent's Head Inn. She relaxed her mind and pictured her master's study. Breathing deeply, she uttered three words in the language of magic. Shadows surrounded her, carressing her body. A few moments later, she opened her eyes and found herself standing in front of her master's desk. He was bent over a large scroll. "Hello, young one," he said as he looked up at her, a look of pride on his face. "You have met my friend?"

"Yes, Master," she replied. "He has asked me to join the King's Guard, but I do not know if I am ready for such a task."

Over the next decade, Chymera studied every form of Necromancy and Alchemy under the guidance of Master Ghede. On her days off, she would roam the great city of Khemi. She would go to the Serpent's Head Inn to sample the wine and observe the various mercenaries that passed through on their adventures. They had the most intriguing tales! One day, a dark, robed man sitting at a table with one of these groups would not stop watching her. Finally as the man moved to leave, she walked up to him. "Why have you been watching me all night?"

The man smirked. "I have been watching you longer than this one night, Chymera."

Chymera had always been a strange girl. Growing up in Budshur, she was the only daughter of a middle class merchant and his wife. She had no real friends because she was quiet and kept to herself. When she did venture out seeking companionship, other children found her a little odd. On Chymera’s sixth birthday, her father came home one day with a little puppy whom she named Eos. Eos became her one and only friend. They did everything together and were never apart.

Thorgard lay against the large willow tree in a soundless sleep. The ground beneath him was slightly wet, and the grass was cold and frozen. Behind the tree he lay his head against was a rushing river which sparkled in the dim sunlight. The waters were pure and clear as crystal. The dirt road was ahead of him which led west to the huts in Conarch Village and to the east where the wilderness rested. The skies were grey and murky and the pale colorless sun was at the highest.

Young Thorgard was only 19 winters old, his muscular body was well toned and his flesh was pale. He was dressed in leather pants and a black wool tunic. His snow boots were slightly worn, and beside his sleeping body was a large axe and a long sword.

It was a grim time for everyone in the clan. They were soon to meet blades with the Clan Swiftfeather which long held a grudge against War-Cheif Steel, Thorgard's father.