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Journals & Backgrounds / Re: Aardyn' Notes
« Last post by Drufice on Today at 01:32:50 am »

   The past few days have seen a new dawn in Hadrian, though, not all sunrises are calm and divine. This one seems more akin to chaotic and obscured.

   The 14th have pulled out of Hadrian all together. It would seem the Archmage can listen, if the voice is loud enough. The vacuum left in their wake is large with no one to fill it, as yet. I have pledged 45,000 of my own coin towards starting a guard. Hopefully, this will be somewhere to start, at the very least. Inquires on pricings and wages have been made in a few places, but so far I've not heard back yet.

   Secondly, I've found myself reeling from a falling out with my dear and treasured friend, Morgaine. It would appear that, through means not important, she found out about my past. She knows about Adra and the vengeance raid.

   "Mad Ash, the Black" she confronted me. "I know." she hissed at me with the tone only brought on by deep hurt. The quivering lip, the welling eyes and hurt stare, will haunt me for far longer than her anger ever could. My regret lies in that I could not find a way to tell her myself. Fortunately for me, she seems to have forgiven me, to a degree; more than I deserve, but I will have to take what I can get, at this point. She is as family to me. The sister I never had; one I'd have wanted.

   With the city in the throes of it metamorphosis, my greatest displeasure is in the lack of time I've had with Sheri. As I find myself falling deeper for her, I find her visage materializing at the forefront of my mind's eye; a welcome apparition for a troubled mind, though I am at times unable to focus on my tasks at hand. I should scorn myself such distraction, but in fact I crave it. I enjoy the fog. I send my thoughts wading through her dark waters and reaching for her, only to find no purchase on the ethereal form, born of sweet memory. Instead I am left with the waking realization that I am drifting in thought.

   The burning ache in my chest thereafter will often remain for hours, if I am alone. I find being with her to be easy; natural, even.  Why is it that in the life, we so often can never do the things that feel so easy to us. Constantly, we are forced onto the harder path, and pushed down the line, away from that which we would much rather have. I feel now as though the Gods are forcing me to be half a person.

   "How often do you fall for someone who sails the same oceans, and dreams the same dreams?"

Journals & Backgrounds / Re: The Mayor's Diary: Morgaine the Red
« Last post by Fiverine on August 18, 2019, 10:25:59 pm »
Dear Diary

I'm seated at the desk in my office.  Fiona Voust paces in front of me, her auburn ponytail slicing the air each time she sharply turns.  "This is it, Morgaine," she says.  "The moment I was preparing you for.  You know what you have to do.  Declare an emergency extension of your term, and snatch all the emergency powers you can.  And never, ever let them go."

Saeb Alanchi stands behind my chair, her hands rubbing my aching temples.  Her fingers are incredibly strong, yet gentle.  "Gosh Fiona," she says.  "You, ah, never miss a chance to exploit misery do you, mhmm?  Death hasn't, um,  improved your ethics I see.  Morgaine's not doing anything like that.  She's, ah, going to do the right thing here, once she works out what that is."

Maximus Valerius prowls around the far end of the room.  He's back in his gold armour, shining so brightly in the lamplight that it almost stings my eyes.  "Remember what I told you, Morgaine?" he barks.  "Competence is more important than popularity.  I knew something like this would happen with a soft touch like you as mayor.  But it's all right.  Just do what I say, and everything will be fine."

Allania's sitting in one of the chairs to my left in front of the fireplace, eating slices of orange.  "Miss Morgaine, don't listen to them!" she says.  "Do something for yourself.  You never do anything for yourself!"  She then abruptly sneezes, twin jets of flame firing from her nostrils and igniting the drapes.  She mutters something about having run out of orange juice.  As the fire burns and spreads, they all then argue about whose job it is to put it out.  I awaken from the dream just as I angrily go to do it myself. 

Hadrian is in turmoil.  With two weeks left in my term, the people have voted to eject the 14th Legion from town.  Our enemies seized this chance and Hadrian was attacked by demons and Southbank by orcs.  I fortunately had an evacuation plan so the death toll is not as bad as it could have been.  But still many are dead or homeless.  I have toured the damaged areas.  Southbank should recover quickly, for the orcs were more concerned with looting than direct murder and destruction.  Hadrian is another matter.  The marshals are gone, and for the time being mercenaries will have to fill the void.

Darius, a local swordsman apparently caused the demon attack and is at large.  Vivili escaped her sentence and could be anywhere.  Ash has remained, and awaits some form of sentence.  Things have been tense between us since I told him I knew his mother was a Sharran.  But I'm not going to have him branded, that is grotesque.  He is offering to help train a new town guard, and do it for free.  But is that a punishment or a reward?  I don't know.  There's something else he could do to clear his slate, both with me and the city. 

An election is due soon.  For a job that nobody wants now. 
Journals & Backgrounds / Re: Sherina Tsirak - A Memory Book
« Last post by Sherina on August 16, 2019, 03:25:32 pm »


I spent a major part of the previous day at Sullivan’s Jungles, specifically at Vivi’s place. Uldur called me over via hazily-explained proclaimation – I had to follow my gut feeling, and fortunately, it was correct. Although the plan was to go on a little exploration, we ended up hanging out in Vivi’s cave. The topics got deeper as she shared various stories and knowledge, getting to the subject of the Vall, and to the topic of the pain.
I asked my question, as her contained madness gives her a unique viewpoint – and I learned to listen to the mad. And she told me similar view to the one Ash shared – I am free to live my life, and I’m allowed to be happy. Once more, differently and again.


The next morning, after a night with zero sleep due to comforting and supporting Uldur in his slumber, I caught a ship to Hadrian. Fortunately for my exhausted body and mind, the bedrolls at the back of the ship are sufficient for a few hour long nap, and while I rested at least a little bit, the ship arrived to the port town.
Besides feeling tired, I felt like hanging out. Thankfully enough, Joriin was available for a bit of a friendly chat, and as I went to ask him a question I was nervous about – Johannes approached us, disrupting my question right as I was to spill out the main part of it. The winged man leant against a pillar supporting the trellis of the General Store, giving me space to scurry over to Cashand and quietly ask what I wanted to. To be fair, I’ve been nervous as I haven’t been for a considerable while.
The... Cashand’s answer stunned me for a split second, as he told me he’s been thinking about the same thing. How the head scratches feel with his new, skeletal arm. Smiling warmly as he does, and just as considerate, letting me know that the timing and place is up to me. Sweet necromancer.
Later on, Johannes let me play with the almost white fluff of his wings. Soft feathers neatly folded over one another, in the perfect shape – just a bit too small to get a fighter in a full armor into the air. My hands snaked over each of his wing, feeling the thumb part, the numerous small feathers of the top and then towards stroking the long, massive main feathers. While he and I were waiting for Cashand to come back, Johannes started talking. Sharing personal matters of his father’s passing, and his feelings of loss. So be it, I lent him an ear.

After our wait was over, Joriin, Johannes and I went on a long trip, far beyond the Patrician plains, deep into the snowy cold mountains. The peaks, infested by demonic spawn and wild energies, house a deep, maze-like crypt with its corridors winding left and right, spliting only so they can join a few hundred meters later. Amazing architectural strusture for sure, but deadly if you can’t face what’s inside.
And we, fortunately, could.
Cashand’s primary intent was to show Johannes how to speak with ghosts. Apparently there is supposed to be such room in the depths of the icy maze. Yet as it often goes, we didn’t have enough luck to find what we were looking for.

Biting frost clawed onto our flesh as we ventured onto a path back to the town of Hadrian, fighting through the cold-changed animals and otherwordly beings, lashing at us with their powerful limbs. We got through, and after several hours of a hike, we got back to the town of prostitutes and cheap ale.
On our way though, stoppin by at the Northern Farms, I pulled out a package of fairy floss for Johannes, for which he thanked me. Stressed and nervous, not knowing what Joriin could like, as I’ve never seen him eat, I handed him a gold-ribbon tied pack of 'caramel roaches' – caramel and soft nougat coated in a crispy chocolate layer. I received thanks in return, though whether he tasted them is a mystery.

We went to sell our finds. Johannes went inside with the bag of loot, while I stayed outside, enjoying the evening sky up above. Cashand, heading in, suddenly stopped and turned towards me. And again, that kind smile while a veil of regret and dark flickered through, somewhere deep in his gaze. After Johannes‘ depart, Cashand and I traveled to his estate, accompanied by a friendly conversation.
Touring parts and separate buildings of his private enclave, we mainly talked interior decoration and various remakes possible to make to various parts of his floating island. It has a lot of potential, with its own inn and many other possible venues. Discussion proceeded further as we reached his bedroom – admittedly, the last thing I would see myself being at is a Master Arcanist’s bedroom. Yet here I am, folding my cloak and setting down my lovingly carved staff.

Cashand sat down on the bed, his back against the head of the bed, waiting for me to get closer. I sat down as well, turning around a bit, allowing him a comfortable access. Nice and considerate, he gently placed the palm of his left hand on the top of my head, and as he spread his fingers to the sides, I got familiar with the new feeling. He started slowly, massaging my head with the bony hand. The sensation, intense, light and yet firm, sent slight tingles over my scalp and neck, making me instinctively lean into the gentle swirling touch of his phalanges.
His hand, although unnatural, felt warm on my head. I felt my body get limp further and further, dropping into the serene bliss of care and light affection, shared among two close friends. My shoulders have drooped as I gave in to the comforting sensations. Cashand, noticing so imediately, had offered me himself to lean on as a support – which I gladly accepted.
Whole late evening and night flowed by on the same, harmonious tune, until we both fell asleep.

The past days were hectic, to say the least. The mist had caught its breath, now ravaging the land with even more fervor. Pain and chaos. Focusing on the brightness, on the small compliment Ash gives me now and then. I have to keep going on, if not for myself, then for Michael and the sacrifice he made. Ash, Three, Bel and I fought the incoming horces of the mist-risen dead in the plains, leaving Uldur to keep the city safe from any runaways. Now are the times we need to be able to lean on each other, as any singular pieces will crumble under the weight of events and duty.

Day has started on a lighter note, with an early noon chat with my friends. I had a short moment of warmth with Morgaine as I told her of my first picnic with Ash, which made her smile. Unfortunately, I had no more good news or at least distractions for her. Her job is busy and tasks are hard, and even though I’m her guard, I feel I’m not doing anything to ease it all up.
I wish she would tell me all I could help her with.
And I still have no idea where to start about the Harvest Moon... I might need to meet with Morgaine and the head of the organization, after the Voust thing is dealt with, to see their visions for the place.

After that, Uldur and I went home... originally. He trailed off the path into the hidden cellar-den, a place he comes to brood at quite often, based on his own words. And there, in the dim light of a singular torch, unable to cast enough light to do more than to just draw out the shadows, he told me of all the trouble and turmoil going on. He had declared a conflict among large factions, in an attempts to make things at least have a chance to get right. But what can get right in this knotted-up mess anymore?
No matter what we choose, someone will die, and such grim times I certainly didn’t expect to lie in the future. All while Uldur, the lovely knightly man, keeps himself withering just to remember all he needs to. Cashand can’t seem to get his hands on a master Mentalist, which is the worse news in this situation. If anyone, Uldur deserves priority in all the help. Always kind and protective. Keeping the duty Michael given him long even after his death, Uldur has been there for me and many others, and he is the main reason why I am alive. He saved me, nurtured me back to health and thanks to him I stand up from the bed each day, grateful for his presence. In budding panic and reality overwhelm, he also managed to tell me about the growing danger for not only him and Vivili, but also for Ash. And told me the word Ash gave him for me – that after whatever happens when 14th takes him, if he lives, he will be with his mother and I may come to visit. I will, Uldur, I will. And if he doesn’t, I shall keep my word and give his remains to the quiet, living Black.
Journals & Backgrounds / Re: The Mayor's Diary: Morgaine the Red
« Last post by Fiverine on August 16, 2019, 12:49:12 am »
Dear Diary

The end of my mayoral term draws near.  I originally had planned to seek a consecutive term, but I've decided against that now.  I'm just too damned tired and not feeling appreciated anymore.  I've done some of the things I wanted to as mayor, but not others.  I imagine that is not unique to me... Chester probably wanted to sleep with a few more prostitutes and Damion to lighten a few more pockets.  There are still a few more projects I want to complete of course. 

The local adventuring community is in turmoil.  Ash and Vivili were found guilty of consorting with a devil by the 14th Legion.  Poor Vivili will be burned at the stake tomorrow, and Ash will be branded.  The 14th Legion did various raids on people suspected of being compromised by this devil 'Nuzu'.  It wasn't directed solely at adventurers... a few from within the Legion itself will be burned too. While there is some general unrest, it is the adventurers who are most angry about the sentences.  I have grave fears for the safety of my citizens should an uprising occur. 

I tried to be a kinder, gentler mayor than we have had in the past.  But it's all been for nothing.  The burnings continue, and people just take my kindness and then complain that I'm still not doing enough for them.  Or they pay pawns to make anonymous proclamations complaining about me.  Sad as it is, this city needs someone with a heavier hand than I can provide.  And to rub more salt in that wound, it was revealed to me that one of my closest friends is not what they claim to be.  It's someone who I trusted more than almost any other...
Journals & Backgrounds / Re: Aardyn' Notes
« Last post by Drufice on August 14, 2019, 05:04:30 am »
Where Settled Dusts Lie

She is bound to the stake, dressed all in black.

   I look down on the village, as we crest the hill. Its people meander about as their day’s work nears it’s end. I can’t help but notice my own shadow elongate down the hillside, cast by the setting sun on our backs.

Prideful, her head is held high, though she sneers back at them, half-angry, half-afraid.

   There, I see the shadow of father, my brother, and the countless others who join us. They are looming, ominous tendrils, reaching out; a dark herald for what is to come.

Beneath her, a pyre. The crowd gathers around her, each one of them vying for the best view.

   One by one, the unsuspecting insects halt in their place, no doubt peering toward the line of silhouettes along the ridge. They see us. They are meant to. We want them to see, and know. We want them to fear the Dark.

They throw various objects at her, cast their scathing words at her, and some parade around with tokens from her now slain guard.

   I look to my brother; his silent visor gazes back. I look to my father; he is silently watching the pitiful village’s movements progress from a stunned halt, to a panicked scurrying. I follow his gaze and can feel the rage burning hot and deep within my heart.

She curses them, her voice acid, swearing by Shar that they’ll be destroyed. This fuels the rage of the Selűnites. Their fervor amplifies.

   With his familiar sneer of disdain and wrath, I watch my father take up his black helm from under his arm and deposit it onto his head. He draws his sword; as one, every man follows suit.

The official, dressed in his ceremonial garb, approaches her; his torch already burning.

   Leveling the tip of his blade toward the town, my father bellows a command, and is answered by a united raucous roar from the battalion on the hill. I wait, eyes blazing, for the first step of his horse. It comes.

She is afraid. Tears flow as she trembles, whispering near-silent prayers to her Goddess for a protection she knows will never come.

   I grit my teeth with violent wrath, as I overtake my father’s steed. I relish the fear emanating from the frantic denizens, as House Aardyn and its sworn swords descends on them with a deafening roar.

The man speaks some words of righteousness, as he begins to lower the torch to the base of the pyre.

   I make sure I am the first to reach my victims. My closest friends galloping on my flanks; a staple in the battle exploits of Mad Ash the Black. It is effective. Their resistance is sickeningly poor, and we cut through the first defenders like a hot knife through butter.

The flames spread through the brush, igniting the larger logs and inching closer to the uselessly squirming woman.

   A man turns his head in fear, at the sight of the slaughter. I remove it entirely, for him. The next one drops his spear and shelters his head in fear. A fatal slash across his side, releasing his entrails, will suffice. A woman and child run for the shelter of a small alleyway. I let them pass. They all must and will die, I know, but though I am an Aardyn first, I am a knight second. My sword is reserved for the armed defenders. Plenty among us are not bound by such honours. The fleeing do not last long.

The inferno melts the fabrics of her dress and her legs now smoke, as her wails of pain and agony resound in the night.

   The bulk of the village is mopped up before twilight, succumbing pitifully to the raging tide of vengeance. A banner carrier rides through town. This time it isn’t the banner of House Aardyn, but that of Shar. Though we are not Sharran, it is fitting for this task; she’d have wanted it that way. He falls into formation as my father and I approach the clearing near the outside of town.

The shrieking turns to a sickening gurgle, and eventually comes to an end; the only sound, the crackling and pops of the raging fire.

   As I approach, I see scorched earth. A regular burn site, clad with the tell-tale stakes of execution by fire. It has been sometime since it was used, but the scene speaks of such actions not being a rarity.

Licking and lashing, the pyre burns until morning; the putrid stench of cooked human flesh long gone, as the sun rises on the smoldering heap

   For two years, I wondered. For two years I searched and scoured. For two years I burned with a pain I have, as yet, not found words to describe. I reach the pyre site and fall to knee, as the smell of the village burning fills the air. I reach down, removing my glove, and scoop the dirt and dust into my palm. I stare at it a moment; that familiar dead feeling inside leaving me, being replaced with unquenchable pain and anger. I touch it to my mouth and speak one word.

   As I awoke in a cold sweat, to find myself l laying in my bunk in the Society Hall, I find myself crying out the word in unison with my dream-self.

Journals & Backgrounds / Re: Aardyn' Notes
« Last post by Drufice on August 12, 2019, 04:29:46 pm »
Shadow and Flame

   The trouble piles, the problems stack, and the city moves ever forward, in it’s endless strife filled trudge. It tires me, merely thinking on it, but as I dwell I know that I too must trudge with it.

   Voust, Uldur’s body, Vivi. Each issue being slowly addressed and inching forward, yet their solutions feel as though they lie just beyond my grasp, taunting and dodging, just as I can nearly feel them brush my reaching fingertips.

   The 14th have set their eyes to Vivi and I, it seems. Somehow, they found out about Vivili and the devil woman, Nuzu. I am told by Chan that the legion means to issue a bounty on her head, but are willing to meet instead. To counter this I wrote to the Head Warden in hopes that I could explain the situation, but received only hostility and accusations. This forced me to lay my own accusations down and invite them to meet with me to hash this out. I received a short ambiguous reply and I await further contact.

   I have spoken with some others of Uldur’s body. We remain at a stalemate, until Cashand’s mentalist arrives, but have discussed the possibility of having his mind moved into a golem. Sherina has agreed to approach this topic with him, thankfully. I do not relish the thought of broaching the more delicate issues regarding that transition.

   Regarding Voust, however, we are closer than ever. The map to the key has been revealed to us, and we are nearly positive that we know where it is. Making the necessary preparations is the only task that remains, before we make our move against him. Cashand claims to have fought a powerful vampire before, and I have no option but to trust his judgement on how to proceed with it. I sincerely hope that we can close out this chapter and have it done with. Some clear space on my plate would be the greatest gift I could receive at this time.

   Though this all weighs heavy in my mind, I have found a peace of sorts, in the comforting touch of a woman’s arms. Her arms…

… and beyond.

   I took Sherina back to my Abyss. With the issue of the 14th looming over me, we thought it might be nice to make good on the promise of our picnic, in case we didn’t get another chance. We laid out the bearskins and set to talking; business as usual for a time, until the topic of “last chances" came up.  She turned to me and asked if there was anything I’d like to do, seeing as we may not receive more time. I turned to find her gazing at me. Her eyes, the colour of the midnight blue sky, the shade that one only finds surrounding the outer rim of a full moons glow. They locked on mine. When she had asked me the question I had no fewer than a thousand answers, but when gazes met, I could think of only one.

   I did it.

   I kissed her. Momentarily forgetting how to breathe, I leaned in and kissed her. I don’t know if I’ll ever know or care why, but she kissed me back and we moved closer. It was there, in the shelter of the Black and in the comfort of her embrace that I finally admitted to myself the feeling I had denied. We huddled close and exchanged a few more, before packing up the uneaten food with a laugh.

   I savoured every moment of the closeness, for I feared that she may be labeled “the lover of a heretic”, should the Legion truly prove corrupt. The walk back was one of mixed emotion. Fear, thrill, freedom. I wish I could describe to you better, how it was, but then I suppose you’ve seen me this way before. When we parted, I had thought it would subside but it remained with me until, for the first time in a long time, I fell into a deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep.

   When next I saw her, she and Cashand had been about to explore the crash site again. I gladly accompanied them and made the journey, tumultuously attempting to not be publicly over affectionate. We cleared the area and the two inspected the crystal they’d come to find. Again, I was lost in the speech of magic, but this was nothing new.

   Sherina suggested that we show Cashand the large, magic-locked gates we had found in the peaceful mountains beyond. We made for them, skirting the crater, and began to make our ascent.

   Stopping for a rest by the waterfall that we’d camped at before, the Arcanist informed us that he needed to leave. He exchanged a goodbye with us and magicked his way out, leaving Sherina and I alone again.

   In the privacy of our sanctuary, we renewed our closeness, exploring new and intimate avenues of embrace. She is always beautiful, but being washed in moonlight becomes her. She appears to belong in such atmosphere, as the moonglow shines off her alabaster skin, and reflects on the deep liquid blue of her soft gazing eye; a raven haired beauty against a veritable pallet of hues, designed special, for her.

   As our outpour of affections carried on, her body became impossibly hot. I noticed and inquired if everything was alright, searching her face, fearing some ailment had come over her. She assured me, with flustered smile that it was regular for her, upon such moments. I could mark in her countenance, so closely did I watch her, that she struggled to collect herself, as she meant to ward me from flame. To save her that strain, I reached into my pack and warded myself, for her. I had not thought the heat that bad, but as it turns out, I had seen nothing.

   Beyond that point, though the heat was soothing, she became scorching. The grass smoldered around us, as we locked together. Were it not for the warding I am certain I’d have been ignited, so intense were the rippling waves of flame. Her midnight eyes became centered by a burning flame light, as we expressed further, and the fire within became the fire without. As one, we burned there until we knew each other complete.

   As we lay in the mists of the nearby tumbling waters, cooling us and drowning out the din of  the outside world, with it’s thunderous song, I reached for the bearskin to cover us. Looking at her one last time before shutting my eyes I could think of only one utterance.

   “Shadow and flame”
Journals & Backgrounds / Re: Sherina Tsirak - A Memory Book
« Last post by Sherina on August 07, 2019, 06:58:00 pm »

Building What’s Lost

In the rays of a sunrise, I departed towards Sullivans Port, trying to keep my promise to Vivili – to visit her as often as humanly possible. Fortunately, I found her in the fields – yes, the very fields I was teaching Michael at about farming. The fields of „Plants fear the Iron“, where I always corrected him – that the „plants like the Iron.“ Spoiler
Nostalgia aside, Vivi and I had a pleasant time together – perhaps beside the talk about how Ash is sort of forcing her to stay with Nuzu in a relationship to prevent the attack on Valstiir enclave. That doesn‘t sound like Ash. I don’t know who to trust anymore.
Stopping by Hadrian’s Inn for the usual sweet cake for my past darling, I stumbled upon a wounded man, limply leaning on his sword in the center of the square. If wouldn’t be me if I haven’t come closer and show him the necessary directions – this time, it seemed to be quite dire, so I suggested using the services of the local Temple.
Temporarily preventing the man from receiving his treatment, there went mister Raul (with whom I talked about my order, though it seems it might take longer than any of us estimated) and a halfling trader, offering us various valuables. Surprisingly, I chose a Phoenix belt, an accessory suited to my needs. The only thing left is to wait until the end of the Skettus silent auction for the Elven Crafted Amulet, and I should be good to go to any battle or situation.
I went on with my day afterward, visiting the grave of my dearest one, with a book and a cake. I like to read at that place, it’s very enjoyable and serene... after you get rid of the constant nuisance of ever-returning bandits.
As I was slowly closing the chapter, a proclamation echoed through my head – it’s Joriin! He seemed to have successfully finished his ritual, which is something I want to see the results of! I’ve been waiting for the news, almost desperately, as he has become quite a close friend of mine.
I can’t say I’m not surprised, as the disdain of Arcanists towards sorcerers is widely known. Even though all of this, Cashand and I have come to a mutual understanding, and we seem to accept and support each other in a way.
I have to see him.
I lunged into a hug with Joriin, joyful of my friend’s return – though he was changed. His previously black-brown hair has faded in color, leaving it steel grey with streaks of midnight blackness. Heh, both of us have come to a conclusion that now he’s even more pale than I – which seems to be a personal achievement of his own. I wonder HOW pale would I be after undergoing such a transition. Perhaps I’d be white as the snow on the cursed mountain...
As Joriin and I were catching up, deeply indulging in a friendly conversation, the man from before, now bandaged, has come to the square again, meeting our Mayor Morgaine and her partner, Fjord. Those three have talked some introductory stuff, as it often goes in such situations. Our Mayor loves to welcome new arrivals and travelers in person.
Joriin, curious nonetheless, walked up to them after a while, casually asking several questions. I joined them soon, now even I have become curious about this red-haired fighter.
His name turned out to be Darius Arren, a temperament fighter with a sword and a spell. Seems to be of a sort not unlike Uldur, though something about him is vastly different from the knightly teddybear Uldur proves himself to be.
Later the group separated, leaving Jorrin and me on our own again, next to hi favorite cart with kegs. I wonder what made him pick that spot... Perhaps his love for wine?
Not minding the business of the port town, we talked and agreed to continue at his estate.. or a mansion, I should say? His enclave.
Fun thing is, that I barely keep in mind his immense power and the position he has. When he’s with me, he simply becomes... my friend. And that’s all he is at that given moment. Perhaps that’s why he spends so much time with me. Perhaps it’s refreshing.. perhaps it’s something else. Either way, I’m the one sorcerer he doesn’t hate – so I’m content with the situation!
At his place, while we were talking about both magical and non-magical stuff, he had shown me a creature he can summon, an undead two-weapon fighter. Towering mummy, never tiring out, not knowing pain nor fear. A rather impressive ‚pet‘, as he calls it.
After that display of power and skill, he’s shown me another change of his body – his, now completely skeletal left arm, entwined in magic.
„May I touch?“ was my question, a careful one, as I didn’t want it to sound too pushy.
He allowed me, with a smile, offering me to take an even better look at the bath.
My soul filled with expectation, Cashand took off his glove and lifted the sleeve of his suit, exposing the skeletal limb. I stared at it with marvel and curiosity, watching its smooth movement and soft texture, as the light of the mythallar shard occasionally reflected on the dull bone surface.
I reached forth to gently touch it, running my fingers across the smooth textured surface. I felt a few tiny dents here and there, y fingertips following the curves of the bones. Entranced by the wonderful display of willpower and magic, I became absorbed by the studying of the arm. I ran my hand lower, carefully exploring and touching the bones of the wrist, palm and fingers. Cashand chuckled, watching me play and explore, seemingly quite amused and happy with the situation. I remember him being afraid to take that step, worried about losing friends. Why would he worry, though? I expressed how beautiful I find it to be, which surprised him a great deal. I held his hand, feeling the gentle warmth emanating from the hard, smooth surface, albeit a bit rough at some places. Not giving it much of a thought, I intertwined my fingers with his phalanges, taking in the feelings with an open heart. I looked up at him, thankful and glad. Continuing the talk, I forgot I held his hand – which I later apologized for. Thanks stars, Cashand didn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest. He didn’t accept the apology, telling me there is nothing to be sorry about, that he is happy someone expresses a genuine interest in the things he’s done. And gave my hand a little squeeze.
I must admit, such warmth, kindness and openness are rarely found in people, and I certainly didn’t expect to find such traits in a Master Arcanist – and a necromancer in one.
As our talk continued, both of us gave the bath a thought. As his estate seems to lack a proper bathtub, as unexpected as it is, we went to my place to let him have a bath in my steel-rimmed tub. It’s not like that bathtub hasn’t seen more men than I did... as if it matters, after all. Caring about friends is important and necessary. And to be frank, Joriin and I have seen each other already, so there was nothing to be nervous about. For both sides.
I prepared the bath, as usual, warming it up with my inherent flame, with Cashand watching from the distance. He then sat down into the hot water, relaxing, and I was invited to touch his skin. It seems the half-undeath made his skin more resistant and hardened. So I did.
I gently slid my hand across his upper back, not feeling any difference at first. Though as I slightly pressed on the skin, I felt the unusual toughness. I went a bit further and pinched at his right shoulder. He obviously didn’t feel a thing. As I continued my touches, Joriin tried to reassure me, saying that I can do as I wish, and to try what I wish. After that I sat next to the bathtub, leaning my head backward, resting against his humerus. We were both relaxed and content, with Joriin flexing his phalanges now and then, and I watched. As the wholesome evening continued, I mentioned my last will, that I’m giving my body to him for the research purposes. He.. was thankful, but not excited about the idea of me passing.
Definitely, a nice and lovely evening. I slept well... no more nightmares, it seems, at least not for tonight.

Morgaine’s proclamation disturbed the writing of the Michael’s chronicle Uldur asked me to write. She’s preparing to go to the Asylum again... and as her spellmaiden, a guard, I had to be there. I quickly dressed into the battle robes, grabbed my staff and rushed out of the door.
Thinking about many recent events I arrived to see Mayor and Fjord already at the square. Even though they’re together, there aren’t many familiarities and affections shared. Usually. A few more people have gathered along the way, including Casper.
Upon entry, our party met a mysterious, masked woman – calling herself ‚Lue‘. She turned out to be disguised Vivili, my troubled, crimson flower. She came to help us, being the only one who truly knows what lies in the Asylum. The deeper we got the heavier my head became – not because of any spell, but because of the knowledge of how vast and difficult the renovations are going to be. Even though Joriin already offered his golems, it will take some time and considerable effort to transform that wretched place into a true health-promoting facility I dream of.
Deep in the maze of Asylum, we found Zilta, seemingly wandering about. Not much later we left to explore the surroundings, finding a small crypt, though we were able to see the massive rest of the underground, beyond a pitch-black pit. Giving up on the crypts, we headed back up – meanwhile, the hordes have emerged, though have been immediately punished by the spell of Zilta and I. I gave Morgaine several battle wands to use in the times of need – I trust she is going to use them in the best-suited situation. She is my Mayor, after all. How sad I can’t craft more wands, as I’m not getting re-paid the sealing fee of the Arcanist Guild craft rooms.
As soon as Vivi exposed herself, throwing away the disguise, Joriin distanced himself, declining to work alongside her. Laws and position don’t allow him, as he later explained to me, and I further told it to Vivi. She, fortunately, understood.
Continuing our mission, the group decided to walk back to the main gates after paying a brief visit to the Groundskeeper. And, at the gates... A massive ancient vampire, far more enormous than any of the giants living in the Landslide part of the hills, squeezed out of the entrance door. My summon and Pattie frightened out and blindly attacked – by a split second I managed to send Pattie back, evading a deadly blow. Giant and we then talked. Only briefly, as Count Voust didn’t seem to obey the laws and requests presented. Instead, the fight has begun.
All of us had fought beyond our limits and with all of our powers – Fjord held the ancient vampire back, so the spellcasters were free to rain magic and fire down on him. The magical resistances of the monstrosity have worn out, his flesh tattered and charred – with the beast now fleeing to the depths of the wretched building. We followed.
The main door locked behind us upon entry, leaving us trapped in the massive labyrinth of pain and death. We pushed on and through the endless, soulless monstrosities until we reached one of the larger halls – now hosting two magma balors and Narrius himself.
The battle was quick and ferocious, draining our powers even more. I was already out of magic, being able to weave only little cantrips and keep my eye on the Mayor.
She was struck down, yet I’ve been able to stabilize her in time – which seemed to make Narrus the Tyrant even angrier. His focus turned towards me, as his booming voice resonated through the polished stone hall – “Die, DIE!!”
He got me.
His fangs dove deep inside of me, I felt my own armor piercing me as he tore my flesh…
Then I woke up, fighting for breath, suffocating. My vision was blurry with tears of struggle, I saw a hint of red and then blue, vibrant colors against the grey… was it ceiling? Colors got lost by the seconds, and when I no longer even felt my body struggling for breath... A wave of healing, soothing energy washed over me, a familiar and welcomed feeling of the healing wand magic. I could breathe again.
This was close.
The situation was as follows – Vivili, seemingly not knowing about my allergy, emptied a whole potion inside of my mouth. I’ve been fortunate that at least someone remembered my situation and used the wand – I wouldn’t be able to write this entry otherwise. Thank gods.
Vivi… Vivili felt horrible.
Just a few minutes after a helmed Arcanist, apparently looking for Zilta, has appeared and opened a portal to the Arcanist building in Hadrian, and we safely passed through.
I had to have come crepes with cream and a short rest.
Coin, here I come.

Meanwhile, the energies got out of balance and the sun got surrounded by the black aura. Undead flooded the streets, and as a guard, I fought. On my patrol, I rescued a bearded young man – apparently of celestial origin, as he sported a pair of rich-plumed, pearly white wings on his back. The soft fluff of feathers stained with the decomposing, dark fluids spilling out of the wounds of the zombies.
I at least healed him, as I couldn’t help him up due to his size and heavy armor. His name is Johannes, and he is indeed, an Aasimar. Something seems a bit off about him, his history not having much of the expected parts of a partially angelic being. Well, be it what it is, I needed to keep the man safe. A citizen is a citizen, and the safest place at that moment was by my side. So, I had him tag along for the duration of the patrol until we parted ways.


Uldur told me of his favorite memory of Michael. The joy he has seen on the face of my beloved when he presented him the black unicorn horn – at the time the last ingredient for the Selune temple cure. Even though, I doubt it would have worked.
Later in the morning, I went to the Sailor’s Coin... It’s a nice place for when I feel like being alone but not entirely, in case I’d start doing something to myself again. That time Ash saved me haunts me still, as I’m unsure whether I will one time turn against myself again, and that time, there wouldn’t be anyone to save me. Or, willing to.
People are not the nicest, with some exceptions of course.
I met Cashand as he was resting at the inn by the fireplace – surely getting some heat into his body, as he has mentioned before that ever since his pale master transition, there are times when he feels incredibly cold. Perhaps I could ask him about trapping my flame in a magical blanket or something, so he can find comfort and warmth anytime?
Either way, we slowly started talking. As close friends, able to enjoy eachothers‘ company without the words. Just as it was now. First one who spoke was I, and from there, the laid-back conversation of a fire sorceress and a pale master had bloomed onwards. We talked about various topics – his wonderment and curiosity about what would have become of me if the shadow taint was allowed to consume me whole, his admiration for Roz’dha’s spellcraft, his plans, the fallen enclave, friendly hikes, red mists... and how we two can do some work to stop the mists entirely. As usual, Cashand presented many good ideas, and especially one surprised me, as he mentioned that NO ONE tried this yet – to simply TALK with the druegar! Morgaine bragged about killing them once in a while, but especially from someone like her... to not even try the utmost base of diplomacy!? That let me down if it’s true. Now I doubt that any of the deep dwarves would be willing to listen to us, due to what humans put them through already.
My dear Joriin mentioned he’d like to drink less, and since his favorite beverage is wine, I tried to work something out. In the end, I brought him a bottle of a currant-blackberry juice. His warm and surprised smile when I handed it to him, and the taste seemed to be similar to the taste of wine. I’m glad.
The moments by the fire were interrupted by Johannes stopping by, and not-so-subtly asking about Michael’s death. Cashand has tried to steer the conversation away, keeping an eye on me for any signs of discomfort. After the worst had passed I casted a Message cantrip and mentally told Joriin of my gratitude – he simply smiled in response.
A clearly audible announcement came up – Any adventurers and such were to see Planewalker Steven Darvis at the Hadrian’s Magic Store. The task was simple – to explore what lies beyond the new portal gate. A hefty bunch of people has gathered, and within a while, we all stepped through the planar gate, into the unknown.
The other side was... a city, it seemed. Much different than our cities usually look, with tall, slightly wrenched buildings and wide walkways. Housing freely-wandering hordes of undead, which quickly fell under my flame and the joint effort of all those who have passed through. A moderate while later we’ve found a door, being opened by unusual mechanism Johannes seemed to know.
So we entered.
It was a building, with long, winding polished stone corridors and halls with cushiony couches and feather-soft beds. Yet none of us dropped their guard.
The building was empty.
On a hidden town square, we’ve found a huge, glowing obelisk adorned with various runes – meaning of which I didn’t know. Fortunately, we had Joriin with us, but before he could do any further research on the faintly glowing, pulsing pillar – a man of a name ‚Honest‘ pressed one of the runes. In his imagination, it seemed like two.. pleasuring women, and that was the reason for his action. Strange man, certainly not the sort I’d like to ever meet in person.. especially not in private. His action at first seemed to caus nothing – however, after a few seconds passed, a pack of water elementals has emerged, drowning several members of the group under their forceful waves. We defended ourselves and helped those who have breathed in the copious amounts of water, making sure everyone stays alive.
To my disappointment, most of the present folk couldn’t find a better thing to do than to criticize Joriin for something that would've never happened without Honest’s dull action. I walked up to the necromancer’s side, being silent support. He is a nice person, and can’t be left alone in this – even though he can easily manage, and certainly does not mind. I was surprised by his question – „Are you okay?“
The words of care rarely heard from anyone else, let alone another mage. I tilted my helm to the side, whispering to him a few short, warm sentences.
The pillar seemed to be a key to the planes, something beyond my current understanding but Cashand seemed familiar with it. Johannes just stood there, looking at the two divided groups, trying to bring them to work together. Joriin and I were open to that, but the other mix of people were of much less willing sort. As it is was by a chance, the two people who kept themselves blind to who Michael truly was were there too – the halflings Casper and Marlee, glaring at everyone else without a reason. Hmh, and Marlee kept telling me before that she prays for Michael’s quick recovery – and when he recovered, she was the one to first throw accusations and untrue words at him! People who keep two faces should at least be subtle about it, this is just annoying. Anyways, the second group declined to fully join forces, despite Joriin’s battle capabilities – thanks to which we all finished the mission alive.
We’ve found several books describing the base four elemental planes, available for anyone to study for the knowledge of their creatures. Darius, Johannes, and Joriin set up a book study meeting – and after my playful question whether a lady is being left out, Darius simply remarked that my role was already solidified due to ‚my relationship.‘ Now I don’t know what it was supposed to be about, as the conversation has been quickly steered away to other topics. Downstairs, Johannes asked Cashand and me to later be in privacy with him, which seemed alright to both of us... so we agreed.
Before we left though, Helle pulled me aside. I told her coldly of Michael’s death, expecting her to be joyful at his demise, as many others surely were. Many, many others. While at times being even worse human beings than he could get to be. But Helle... seemed sad about hearing it. Perhaps for me, as I always accepted her, even though her Sharran religion.
Joriin and I certainly didn’t expect a time at the large inn room – which I have still pre-paid by Vivili – with the manly Aasimar telling us both about each other, and some traits of each of us. It was interesting, to say the least. And he got to scratch my head in the metal gloves... which gave me a thought. With Cashand’s skeletal arm... could it feel good? I got to try it.
After our time at the inn, Johannes and I parted ways with Cashand, who went home.
Me and the Aasimar went on to study the fire tome... at least I did, he studied whatever he could.
But before that we went to visit Michael’s grave for a moment, leaving the usual cake and a bunch of wildflowers. Then, Johannes decided to talk. We have done so for a little while and headed to my basement afterward, exploring the various creatures and their forms.
Journals & Backgrounds / Re: Aardyn' Notes
« Last post by Drufice on August 06, 2019, 05:21:24 pm »

   The past week has been reasonably uneventful and peaceful. Most of the trouble has been inner strife, but there remains some issues.

   Vivili remains in league with the Devil, Nuzu. After our hunt for Voust, a disguised Vivili brought me back to her residence at Sullivan's and gave me a key. Shortly thereafter, we were joined by the devil-bitch. It seems they are bedding; a troubling choice. I am happy that she finds this comfort, but I fear that the devil-woman will get her killed.

   I have taken measures to attempt to have her allowed back in town. I bent the truth and told the necessary parties that she is with her by my bidding. Technically I didn't lie, though it doesn't feel right. I miss her presence at the hall, though I'm positive Belorfin is quite content with how things are.

   I spoke with Cashand, the Arcanist. As it turns out, he too was in Iolaum. He made no indications that he knew of my house, though I'm positive he must have heard who we are and what we've done. To his credit, he doesn't seem to care much. If he hasn't mentioned anything about it yet, then I very much doubt he will have reason to in the future. We remain on friendly terms and I rather enjoy his company.

   Lastly, Sherina. I took Sherina, again, to my abyss. We had a picnic and spoke a while. I told her about my mother; I trust her. I even introduced her, in a way, as we gazed together into the Black. I believe that Adra would have liked her. Certainly more than she would have liked you, of that you can be sure. Nevertheless, I am sure you would like her as well. She is Dark but kind. She is accepting and affectionate. She broken and beautiful.

   My mother's proffesion did not seem to affect her in the slightest. She simply nodded and accepted the news without a hint of disgust or disdain. That meant more to me than she will ever know. Most people would see me differently, if they learned what she was, but to Sherina it seems to make little difference.

   The remainder of our time was pleasant. We ate and talked a while, alone and sheltered from the outside world, until we packed up and something happened.

   Sherina showed me her shadows. She wanted me to see her and let me feel it. It was beautiful. A deep mist-like Blackness that I could feel calling me. I put out my hand and she pulled it to her side. When I recall what happened, it is almost as if it happened to someone else. "Entranced" is the only word I can think of that describes it.

   The feel of the shadowy form was that of a tingling euphoric state. I could sense it inside of me, in a way, when I touched her side. Before I knew it, I was pulling her toward me, into my arms. I cannot describe to you how immensely drawing it was. I buried my face into her hair, as I held her. Wanted to feel it all around me. I pushed back slightly to look at her again, still holding her. I brushed my hands along her cheek and gazed down into her eyes. In that moment I wanted her.

   As I was a second from leaning in and kissing her, her shadow form disappeared. There was no shadow, just the pale, beautiful, tired face of Sherina staring back up at me; her form against mine, with a look of surprise. The gaze she offered me was not one of disdain or repulsion, and as my senses returned to me I briefly considered leaning in anyways, as our embrace lingered a moment. But then my mind returned to me.

   Sherina is in mourning and likely vulnerable. It would be dishonourable for me to have acted, if not dishonourable enough, having gotten as far as it did. I am troubled by this, as I was not expecting it. Again, I forgot myself in the Dark. Am I so weak that my embracing of the Darkness becomes an enslavement?

   "Shar is in your blood, boy" my mother would warn me. "The Black will call, and you will answer. Do not let it consume you. Though others may cower in the Dark, we shall always embrace it."

   Is this what she meant, or is this something different? I didn't drop my guard to her, she just made it non-existent. I'm floundering in the whole situation, and somewhere I can feel Morgaine giggle-snorting at me. God's only know what she'll have to say about it.

   I have to watch myself from here on out. I don't want to disrespect her, or her mourning any more than I fear I have. What sort of life would I be subjecting the woman to anyways? Would I drag her into darkness with me? Could I put her through the endless turmoil that seems to follow me around? I grow sick thinking on it, and sicker still with myself for wanting it regardless.

   Lyra. Adra. If you can hear me now, please guide me.
Journals & Backgrounds / Re: Sherina Tsirak - A Memory Book
« Last post by Sherina on August 05, 2019, 08:43:20 am »

Dawn of the day

Since I forgot my arcane staff down at the Abyss, the first quest of the morning was to retrieve it. How fortunate that I managed to meet Cashand and Uldur, who have taken a walk with me so we could get to the business – the Devils Weed.

Devils Weed seems to only grow on certain nights on the Southbank graveyard – not the worst place to be at, albeit unfriendly an full of undead. Which kind of goes hand in hand, if you think about it. Anyways. Joriin needs the ingredient to complete his poison to become a Pale Master – a brave, big and admirable step. I support him in his aspirations since he is undergoing the transformation for his safety. He wants to research negative energies better, and if he would not change his body this way, he would be in a grave danger further into the research. So I’m glad he is being responsible – to the applicable extent.

The search was thorough, long and unsuccessful. We’ve cleared the undead from the graveyard and mausoleums, however no sign of the plant we were looking for.
Next stop ought to be Sullivans, I had an idea to take a walk there the way Michael took me to the Old Battlefields, back when he used to raise undead with the help fo the artifacts.
As we entered the old, withering palisade lines, I remembered the Chasm. Ice-cold sweat washed over me, making me dizzy, as I realized I might not ever be able to go down there again. But, I had my friends with me. Those who would support me and those who have been with me on the hardest day.
So I invited them with me to the Chasm, to take a look at the fairest place, my most favorite of all.

As we descended, I was overwhelmed. Memories, feelings, the things that were and were to be, all weighed down on me. I took off my helmet, tears mixing with the falling rain. I clung to Uldur for support, and he had provided. Cashand stayed a bit back, not sure what to do, so he just admired the scenery, nature, waterfalls. He loves that place. Just like I.
My mind wandered and I spoke it. I told them many things, about how I first discovered the chasm, how Michael took me there and I knew I have to return once more, later, with someone special. How everything was nice on that day. How it rained on my honeymoon, and how gentle everything was.
Joriin checked the caves, while I and Uldur rested near the place the thing took place. I figured that having memories with my friends on such places might do me well – they won’t be connected only to Michael, but as well to many others. Though with the number of my friends, I doubt there will ever be ‚many‘. Why bother by numbers though, when every single one of them has a place in my heart. Ash, Cashand, Uldur, Shi’Vail, Vivi, others. I love that they allow me to hug them – especially those two, as in those cases it seems like an achievement of the highest grade that they are happy to do these sort of things with me.
I’m glad.

Cashand returned from the caves and the three of us talked. I’ve been telling the master arcanist about the fun things about being a sorceress with a gift of fire when an idea struck my head – why won’t we go for a little swim in the stream of the chasm? Uldur, half asleep at the time, decided to go for a nap while Cashand and I dived in and bathed – after a short talk making sure both of us are comfortable with it - bare.
It’s not like I care, he has seen me half-nude before and kept it casual and nice. Just like this time. We talked and relaxed while Uldur, softly snoring, was having a nap. I’ve discovered that Joriin wants to meet a dragon – so I told him about Zoanantuss, and I wish him the best with meeting the bronze-scaled, majestic creature.

Later I went to Sullivans, to just roam around and forget about the world. I discovered a village of Malar’s Hollow – a human settlement amidst the dangerous jungles of the monster territory. It was eerily quiet. I left shortly after.

Surprisingly, I met Ash on that day as well. He has joined me on a late lunch on the Society patio. We had a bit of casual talk, though he seemed distracted throughout a portion of it. Talk went on about many things, from our goals to Ash being good at the recruitment talks. From which we got to more... interesting part of the conversation I’d say? There were some things not said in words. And it was nice that way.

Returning from a morning visit, I went on to have an apple juice at the Society hall. Ash had some ordered, as the last time I was there I’ve had nothing to drink – he and Grano seemed to forget that people who do not drink alcohol exist. That’s how it goes with innkeepers I suppose – you do not expect the other kind of customers.
I’ve stumbled upon Morgaine and others, having friendly spars and chats. It’s been a relaxed part of the day, everyone had fun and Belorfin had, of course, his bagels which keep appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Perhaps it’s another mystical spell, in either way it’s nothing I should care about.

Uldur hasn’t been feeling well, so I walked him home and together we had a nap.

The hours passed, and I found myself in the town again, this time meeting Joriin. If was the last day before his ritual – the one he might not return from. Ans as we agreed before – we had some things to experience together. Including dinner at the fancy Skyborne Hall, or whatever the name of that restaurant is.
A word gave a word, and suddenly, we were in Hadrian brothel. Discussing and appreciating the furnishing and interior designs, we peeked into a room after room. Staff had to think some things, seeing a Master Arcanist and a Mayor’s Spellmaiden rating and judging the rooms of the establishment. In the last room, Joriin and I found things familiar to me – chains and other equipment. Talking about it on our way back to the main floor, we came to know that both of us fancy this sort of ‚play‘. Interesting thing to share with friends, for sure.

Arriving at Nualla’n, we went to roam the deep woods of the elvish region. I’ve never been there before, that’s why he offered me to do so. Together.
The forest was lush and green, with many exotic plants and small forest critters. We’ve seen a memorial to Celeb – a woman I still feel a slight unease around. We walked further, our robes getting stuck in the foliage until we reached a high watchtower.
The view was... breathtaking. In the night, the full moon and stars tinted the leaves silver, the waterfall, and streams akin to liquid glass, as the breeze softly rustled in the bushes. It’s been a magical night, we sat in the high tower, looking upon the world almost as if it was a map. At that moment, we didn’t talk much. The beauty of nature and elvish architecture was overwhelming. Perhaps we could visit one more time.

As the last stop, our journey of experiences then took us to Valstiir, finally for the promised dinner. It was fine, Joriin as a Master Arcanist got his order hurried... The perks of a high position, I’m sure. We have talked about some deep things, as we often do, including his dream to have a loved one. I did my best to reassure him and put off his fears – because he is a lovely man, and half-undead or not, a suitable partner will surely appear in his life.
He sometimes needs a little consolation, and I’m here for everyone who needs me. As I always were. We shared one last hug, tight and intimate, as it could be our last.
Announcements / Rules: Please Read
« Last post by Tinker on August 03, 2019, 12:23:59 am »
As a team, we thought it would be important to touch on some rules that should be adhered to without exception. We want to be clear on this point, these rules are not up for negotiation or bending. We are a fantasy setting game where people come to have fun and escape the problems and harshness of life. The following rules have and do still affect people in real life or have impacted their lives in terrible ways.
The following have no place in our setting:

1) Self-harm and suicide.
2) Forces sexual encounters and assaults.
3) Any threads or storylines that deal with children including pregnancy.

If you have any questions as to the reasons behind these rules then please approach one of our DM's and they will be happy to explain it to you.

Thank you
Netheril Team
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