Jun 19, 2018

Of daggers and a broken mind.




There are many races scattered throughout these lands, a few in which I have personally encountered. Elves, orcs, Fae, and the most common, humans. There are even those that can't be seen under normal circumstances. Spirits, demons, and sometimes even our truest selves.

There are three of them sitting around a fire, staring at a map as they speak to each other in their foreign tongue. Dark Elves. I was travelling to meet sir Ceannric when I happened upon them in this thicket of woods. I could have ignored them and just kept moving but something they have has caught my eye. They glint against the fire and I can't help but want them for myself. A pair of daggers, finely shaped like sharp feathers plucked from a swallow made of steel. I've lingered long enough for them to spot me but they are busy with their own discussion. Ive heard tales of how fearsome Dark elves are. They are fast, agile, and extremely skilled with bow and sword. They have no fear for the denizens of the darkness, but that doesn't mean they aren't aware of me. I will still make an attempt towards the daggers.

Inches away from the light I pause and wait. I have to be patient and wait for the fire to die down before I move any closer. Their vision will be obstructed by the shifting patterns of light. As I crawl torward the light of the fire, my vision darkens and a burning pain enters my skull. I sieze up and bite my fist to the point where i taste blood. The visions tear through my thoughts. A castle in the distance, a large crowd cheering down at us, the smell of blood in the air, desperation, and finally the despair.

After a moment I am able to open my eyes to the light of a blood red dawn. I'm not where I was moments prior. I find myself sitting against a tree in the the fields outside the forest I was passing through. I shake my head to a throbbing headache i bring my hands up to wipe the sweat off of my brow when the crimson color catches my eyes. Blood. Wet and glistening, it covers my hands and runs down my arms. The blood has only started to dry so it hasn't been long since I've been covered. The fact that im covered in blood doesnt unsettle me, in fact I can only feel a sense of calm as I sit here staring at my crimson coated hands. I slowly set my hands back down to my sides and touch the cold, wet metal of the daggers that I was hoping weren't there. I let out a long sigh as I relax and wait for the throbbing to end.

This has happened to me several times before. First the headaches, then everything goes dark, and I always find myself somewhere other than where I was. I've never found blood on myself in any of those situations. Only recently have I come close to shedding blood. It was during the end of my match with Grayson when I woke up. Grayson was on his knees, defeated, as I was raising my sword but I stopped myself before swinging it towards his exposed neck.

I shiver at the thought of killing a friend and shake the memory away. I need to wash myself before I present myself to Sir Ceannric. I've decided to keep quiet about these incidents until we gather again in the coming weeks. I'll have to find a magic user to help me. Each day I go without help, the more danger I'm putting my comrades in. I don't want to harm any of them.

I gather up my new weapons and struggle to stand as every movement makes the throbbing worse. I start heading towards the rising sun to find the nearest source of water, turning my back on the woods and away from what remains of the elves.

New Posts
  • Two individuals from a realm where their gate has just opened from the ripples of the cataclysm. Brothers of the Free Company known as Ravens Marque. Their world is constantly in one conflict or another with small respites of peace. The Ravens Marque was hired to help the ports of shadows as the Dominion Larm invaded the region. Sorceries flying back and forth causing destruction within the ports. Falling back to counter insurgents, a gate opened from an explosion of magics. Falling into the void Arden Rusk and Krow lost much of themselves and their pasts to the nothingness. With little possession's which would indicate to who they were, they continue along the path's they know. That being Money, Intrigue, and combat. The Uniform of the Ravens Marque is identified by their berets with the company badge. Another Common article of uniform being a short gambeson jacket. Just know that the Ravens Marque is not expanding into this world. But Arden and Krow will represent their interests and seek to reclaim their knowledge and memories.
  • Let all know the story of the White Ravens, who faced the first full grown dragon in Osterra. Certainly, the Guild of the Black Sky had caught a young dragon unawares and slain it, but what honor is there in killing a yearling? Perhaps, more honor than in dying to a great dragon... Jarl Umarth, his armsman Duncan, Remy the swift, and Kestrel the champion had been eating field rations for weeks. Their companions, Alassana the wisewoman and Kal the ranger had signed on for adventure and a share of the take, but Alassana had turned her ankle in a fall and Kal was ready to find a tavern with ale. An unlikely outcome in the deserts of the southwestern shores. Duncan stopped and held his hand over his eyes, peering our across the sandy scrubland. "Where in the underhells have you hauled us, Umarth? Everything here is sand, rocks, and more sand. Not even a decent sea breeze this far from shore. Not sure why we left our island. Nothing to drink either..." Duncan's grumblings trailed as he watched Remy, off in the distance, throwing rocks into a cave. Umarth creased his brow, his eyes closed, and inhaled deeply. "The storms are weak in these lands, but I feel drawn here. Each casting of the runes says we'll have to go further to find a way home." "Well, I for one take great pleasure in getting back onto the mainland," chirped Kestrel, somehow managing to brightly skip in his armor. "It's not good for the spirit to be so serious and locked up all the time. The gods created this bountiful creation for us to explore..." "You're not paying me nearly enough to include a sermon in this little outing of yours," the cloaked ranger interrupted Kestrel. "In fact, you're not paying me at all, and if there's not SOMETHING worth my time out here..." Kal's gaze followed Duncan's into the distance, "No, wait, that'll do it." Kal unslung his shield from his shoulder and drew his blade. Umarth's eyes snapped open, "Something feels different." "You know, stormreader, if you actually looked at the world more often and spent less time sniffing cloud farts or whatever, you'd be caught up. Shields up, White Ravens. Remy has found something," Duncan grumbled, drawing his blade. Umarth reached out, speaking words of electricity and cold air, and drew lightly on Kestrel's armor in a blue light that faded to black sigils. Alassana raised a blue gem and passed it in front of Duncan, murmuring words that went straight to the earth, the stones lifting slightly, and Duncan's eyes briefly glowed blue. Remy was bounding back toward the group, waving her arms, when the beast finally fully emerged from its cave, and launched into the sky. A dragon, and no small, wingless beast this. From tail to tip more than the Jarl's longhouse, and as it spread its crimson wings the shadow it cast blotted out the sky. On that day, the White Ravens were thankful for the way death doesn't hold in Osterra. Duncan's enormous swings hacked scales from the beast, while the Kal and Kestrel stood back to back, shield and spear to pierce its side, blood spilling. Remy lept nimbly beneath its swipes, striking and darting away before it could retaliate. Umarth's shouts echoed with the storm, "Stand fast, Ravens! We shall have this day and..." the rest of the Jarl's speech cut short as the dragon's maw opened and unholy fire spilled out, no time for Umarth to scream as he burned to ashes. Duncan was next, the berserker rage overtaking him as he lept onto the dragon, hacking, and the beast's jaws ript him apart. One by one the Ravens fell, weapons slick from the dragon's blood, ears ringing from its howls of pain. No doubt the beast is near death, lurking in some cave and licking at its wounds. But the White Ravens found themselves the worse. And the oaths of the White Ravens echoed, "Take not that which you cannot hold." They had failed that day, and would remember.
  • Few have met Krow and fought with him but is he truly what he seems or is there an illusion about. Is that his face of a rugged warrior who has dawned steel armor. With magic and relics that litter the worlds it is humorous how you can still trust your eyes. The next time you encounter Krow, ask him about Arden Rusk.

© 2019 by LARP Adventures, LLC