The story begins...

[Luth]

The Queen is sitting in her throne, looking at the peasant who has demanded to talk with her. The news he has just given her are not good... Fire is ever an unpredictable element, but it's not usual that it burns all the fields of a family... which are separate! Of course, the Queen thinks, it could have been provoked but... would it burn a field and stop before arriving to next one? It's just as if some dark wizard have done it...

Thinking is good, but the Queen is not alone in her power. She asks for her loyal Priest, a good adviser who has never disappointed her, who will never betray her, and someone so wise and fond in magical matters that he'll be a good aid now. Sure he'll help her to solve this riddle...

[The One]

Meanwhile, a young wizard wanders around outer walls of the Queen's palace.
He has no intentions of disturbing anyone, but as he gets close enough to an open window, he hears the Queen's conversation with the peasant.
He starts thinking about helping her in sloving this riddle... He remembers all of the fire wizards, both masters and apprentices he knew... None could have comitted such a crime; he himslef was also a wizard with power over elemental magic, but he just remembered sleeping out in the forest and hunting all day long. So he just waits out there near the open window to see what happens next...

[Markus]

The priest is told about the most remarkable fire incident by the queen. The peasant has brought some of his burnt crops to the queen to support his pledge, and right now the priest is brooding above these with a gloomy face. He can tell that whoever has done this has left no trace of his magic besides the strangely burnt fields themselves. Whoever has done that was quite a mighty master of magic. But who can tell to what purpose those fields were burnt...?

[The One]

As the young wizard still watches through the window, two guards come up to him and drag him out of the palace. But then, they have a better idea, just to humilliate the young one, they bring him up before the Queen, who seems not to be pleased when the guards tell her about the doings of the young one.

[IronCretin]

The Queen looks upon the disheveled Wizard in distaste.

"Young wizard, have you no sense?  Surely you must know that your behaviour may be deemed as treason, punishable by death?"

The wizard bows deeply, and his cheeks redden. 

"My queen, I never meant to violate the sanctity of your private matters, however, I know, as well as you, that no wizard of this land could be responsible for burning those crops.  I fear that there must be some darker force at work here."

"You are clearly quite impetuous young man, despite this, you are correct in your summation. . . I have ruled for many a years, too many, some might say, and I consider myself an impeccable judge of character.  I see in you great things, if you are able to control your rash actions.  Therefore, I shall grant you pardon and, as penance, give you the task of investigating these fields.  To accompany you I shall send Odenetl, the great shaman.  Hopefully his understanding of the natural world will help solve this mystery with the utmost expedience.  You may go young one."

The young wizard protests, "But your majesty. . ."

"Silence!  My decision will NOT be overturned, count your blessings wizard, I shall NOT be so lenient in the future."

The wizard is escorted from the castle and given a mount, so that he may meet Odenetl and journey with him to the scorched fields. 

And so our tale begins in earnest. . . Who has scorched the fields?  How will the shaman react to his assigned tasks?  Will the young wizard be able to ride a horse?  Will he have to use the bathroom at all during this story?  And most importantly. . . where is the Anglerfish?

Only time will tell. . .

Oh, and if no one minds, I wouldn't mind creating a character of my own at some point. . .

~The (Un-Characterised) Cretin~

[IronCretin]

The Young Wizard and his mount ride slowly down through the city.  The hustle and bustle of market greets them as they near the town's common.  A great scene unfolds before them.  Perfumes assail the wizard's nose, accentuated by undertones of roasted duck, pickled geese eggs, and the lingering scent of the exotic Flit's mesh, a fabric woven entirely from the feathers of a fairy-like creature, found only in the N'wahnt moors.  Sounds accompany the sights, as vendors attempt to sell their goods, showing off exquisitely coloured shells of the Rainbow Tortoise, crafted into delicate bowls, fine vases constructed by the elves of Kilaylih, and bizarre contraptions rigged together by the imps during the War of Imps and Gnomes (WIG, also called The War of the Little Ones, much to their chagrin).  The Wizard keeps a close eye on his purse as he makes his way past the merchants, stopping here or there when tempted to do so.  A stunningly beautiful woman catches his eye and he almost loses his concentration long enough for a small gnomish master of prestidigitation to lighten his load.  However, the Young Wizard (whose name shall now be revealed as Forrest Gump. . . but most people call him Forrest Gump Carthicus. . . but prefers Carth (pronounced with a hard C, like Conan, but with less muscle, and no sword)) catches his lustful folly quickly enough to reclaim his goods with a simple spell of levitation. 

Carth continues on his way, exiting the market and following the directions given to him by the Priest (who will, without a doubt, reappear in our story shortly), makes his way to the home of Odenetl, the shaman.  The door of the appropriate address presents itself with character since an extremely talented carpenter has carved a face into the door where the knocker should be.  Carth, unsure of the proper ettiquette when approaching a door that stares back at you, responds as he would at any door, he knocks. 
"Who DARES to touch the face of the portal that leads to the GREAT shaman, Odenetl?"
Carth squints in wonder as the face moves and comes to life before his eyes.  The wood creaks and groans as the door talks, although there is no throat, as such, from which the sound eminates. 
"By order of the Queen I, the great young, unheard of until now, wizard CARTH doth disturb the face of the portal that leads to the GREAT shaman Ode-nettle."
"Odenetl!"
"That's right, Ode-nettle"
The door creaks forth a sigh.
"Very well then, I take it the Queen has need of my services once again."
"I'm sorry door, did you say YOUR services?  For I was sent to summon forth the great shaman Ode-nettle. . . not the great face of the portal of the GREAT shaman Ode-nettle."
"STEP BACK, oh young inattentive wizard, for you shall witness firsthand the power of a master shaman."
Carth steps back, as he does so the wood of the door seems to dissipate.  The face, simultaneously, begins to coalesce into a more lifelike representation of a man.  In fact, out of the wall materialises a fully grown man with the features of the door's face.  Before long the man appears complete, and the wall behind is indistinguishable from any other wall along the street.
The man is not unlike the trees which he has, undoubtably, studied his entire life.  His skin seems tough and worn, almost with the texture of wood.  His hair is coarse and springs out from underneath a journeyman's cap like a bed of nettles.  His hands are gnarled, seemingly with arthritis, or some such affliction, yet they move with the grace of a blade of grass in the wind.  His eyes are deep and shadowed, his face surrounded with a matted beard, almost moss-like in formation.  His clothes are adorned with carvings, necklaces, talismans, and a large dreamweaver hangs about his neck.  He is garbed in a long, dark green robe.  A small animal of some sort seems to cling to his shoulders, which Carth can only assume to be his familiar, or Fylgja.  As Carth watches, a staff seems to shoot up from the ground and into the shaman's waiting hand.
"I am Odenetl, that's ODENETL, NOT Ode-nettle!  I am here for the Queen young man, NOT summoned by you, nor for you.  Now if you'll kindly tell me WHY you've disturbed me, we might be on our way, and I may return to my slumber."

And so (which is how all these time filling sequences begin) Carth fills Odenetl in on their task and the two share the horse (who is less than ecstatic about having TWO riders) for the journey to the fields.  Which was horribly eventful and full of wonders beyond your imagination. . . Thus I shall save us both the trouble and ignore them, for next we shall pick up at the fields, where the great wizards of CSI shall analyse the fields using the magicks of forensics. . . oh. . . wait. . . Nevermind. . . THUS. . . yadda yadda yadda, pick up at the fields, where Carth and the GREAT shaman Odenetl shall attempt to get to the bottom of this crisis once and FOR ALL. . .

~The (Ever Boring) Cretin~

[Luth]

In the meanwhile, the Queen is talking with the High Priest about their decitions. To send a young and unexperienced apprentice of wizard seems no logic to the Queen, but the Priest is sure: he tells her that the Omen has talked. Nothing is sure, but one thing: this young apprentice is going to become someone very important in the developement of the story of these lands. What he can't tell is in which direction...

[The One]

Odenetl and the young wizard riding on a single horse arrive at the scene of crime, the burned fields and dismount. A farmer lying under a tree sees them and stands up, the man's hat covers his face. "Are you here to bring even more destruction?" he says in a low voice. Right before any reply can be given, he goes on: "You see, some strange force came here and burned the fields, the barn, everything I had, even the little cattle I had was burned to death. The only thing left are these ashes, myself my wife and my children... Thank Notessomes our Queen will try to get the problem solved"
"Sir, we are here to try to find what caused this problem" says Odenetl
"An adolescent and a queerly-dressed old man!? What good can you two do here? If this what the Queen has sent to help me, this kingdom must be in a time of decadence!" the farmer exclaimed
"Sir, I am highly capable of finding the responsible for this crime" replies Odenetl
"Ok, go ahead, I don't know what will you be able to do here, but I already have pretty much nothing to lose... One more thing... You young one, I know your type, so if you get a single finger of yours on my daughter, I'm hanging you on a a pine tree's branch!" Says the farmer before going back under the tree where he was lying.
The wizard spies the rest of the farmers family down the field. He and the shaman ride towards them to make some questions. They engage in a conversation with the farmer's wife and his older daughter, but obtain no other than the information than the information than what the farmer had told them already.
During the conversation the young lady catches the wizard's eye, pretty face, blue eyes, wavy blond hair. After the important questions are over, he engages in a more casual conversation with her. Suddenly, the pretty girl's father appears running and screaming, armed with a stick.
His attack is quick and impredictable, the young one recieves a fair blow in the head and falls to the ground unconcious.

What will happen next?

[Loke]

   The sound of a sweet song awakes our young one, still, dizzzy due to the fierce attack recieved, he walkes towards the music , wondering if this is the world in which he is used to walk , or if he is immerse in a fantasy  that will make his transition to the other world easier..., at the bottom of a tree he could see the figure of what it looked like a man, or at least that's what he thought at a glimps.


   From within the man-shaped shodow a deep voice emerged, "come here young one...and be ready to recieve the advice of the twisted bard..."


   Next ..it's up to you


yo yo yo

[IronCretin]

Carth approaches the withered figure, "Who. . . or what are you?"
Upon approaching, the scene changes drastically.  The tree bursts into flames, fire lapping at the air hungrily. A dense fog descends around Carth and masks all but the budding conflagration.  The figure is benighted by the mist, and Carth looks around helplessly.
"Give UP on your tasssk.  You have no bussinessss here, in these fieldssss, with thisssss SHAMAN." The enshrouded character spits out the last word, which seethes with hate. 
"I repeat my question, who ARE you?"
"YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!"
Music again greets the young wizard's ears, however it is discordant, and unharmonious.  The music is disorientating and Carth struggles to maintain conciousness.  The flames seem to feed on the notes and move quickly towards Carth, as if propelled by the oils of Dragonskins.  Carth cries out and then swoons into complete mental exhaustion.

Carth awakens, bathed in his own sweat, feverish. 
"Ahhhh, young one, you are awake.  Clearly a great spell has been lifted."
Carth cannot master his voice, but attempts to do so, nonethesless.  "Whhh. . . I. . . a witch. . ."
"Speak SENSE. . . Here, drink this."
Odenetl tips Carth's head back and a smooth liquid, tasting of lavender oils, flows into Carth's mouth.
"I saw a WITCH Odenetl. . . a serpents voice, flames, fog. . . It was HORRIBLE!"
Color drains from Odenetl's cheeks, and his lip quavers ever so slightly.
"A serpents voice you say?  May the gods help us. . . Lamia has returned."

And so the mystery deepens. . . who is this Lamia?  How is she associated with the burned crops?  Why was there music playing?  Did The Cretin ruin Loke's AWESOME plot twist?  Why did Paul Di'anno feel compelled to write a song to her?  Does this signify Paul returning to front Iron Maiden?  STAY TUNED TO HEAR THE ANSWERS TO ALL THESE QUESTIONS (except the last two) AND MORE!

~The (Festering) Cretin~

[IronCretin]

Side note to Loke:  If u're pissed 'cause I changed what the character was supposed to be (i.e. from Twisted Bard to Lamia) feel free to make it out that Lamia was impersonating herself as the twisted bard. . . it wasn't my intention to delete YOUR character!. . . I missed the RULES thread. . . quite vital to this sort of thing. . . eep.  Sorry. 

~The (Sincere) Cretin~

[Loke]

Side note to Loke:  If u're pissed 'cause I changed what the character was supposed to be (i.e. from Twisted Bard to Lamia) feel free to make it out that Lamia was impersonating herself as the twisted bard. . . it wasn't my intention to delete YOUR character!. . . I missed the RULES thread. . . quite vital to this sort of thing. . . eep.  Sorry. 

~The (Sincere) Cretin~

Not at all, feel free to arrange anything i write in this thread, anyway you seem to have soooooooooo much free time than me hehehe


yo yo yo

[IronCretin]

Few know of Lamia, and, therefore, many, at this point, may be left bewildered and in the dark.  Fear not, for I, your narrator, shall explain all, in time.  Perhaps, I shall even step forward and reveal myself, in time.  For now, however, I must begin a new chapter in this tale which will, eventually, lead to the revelations of Lamia and the dark forces that wait in the wings of the Kingdom's future.  Before illuminating the future, though, I must enlighten you with the past.

~~~~~~~~~

Dravis drove his steed mercilessly through the night. 
His stallion showed no weariness and carried his master with unearthly speed. 
The world sped by. 

Dravis had journeyed endlessly in the decade after Visk's death, searching his own soul for what answers may be found.  He had traversed the N'wahnt moors and battled through the darkened swamps that lay beyond.  The Wastelands of Prothecus had given way to the Dwarves' Villhallen Ranges, mountains that were said to be visible from around the world.  Few of the Kingdom's humans had ventured this far, and even fewer had returned to weave tales of the riches that lay wait in the labyrinthine tunnels that riddled the mountainsides.  It was there that Dravis sought his answers, it was there that he met the dragon Hisk'enatle (Serpentine for The Master). 

Many legends have been written about The Master, but few have been foolhardy enough to seek the origin of these myths.  Every fable of The Great Beast says his home is somewhere distant, somewhere different.  How Dravis came to learn of The Master's true location is a mystery that only he may tell.  The Master knew of Dravis' approach and met him at the entrance to his mystical cathedral.  It was, indeed, a magnificent creature, dwarfing Dravis, and his mount.  Few would have the fortitude to stand before this legendary dragon.  His wings spread out above Dravis, enclosing him, obfuscating all that lay beneath them.  His blackened scales, each the size of a man's skull, thickly adorned his hide, leaving no room for spear or sword or axe to release the fluids within.  His eyes burned with hellfire tempered only by the frore of Dravis' own eyes. 
"Ahhhh, finally, a mortal of power findsss my home.  Why have you sssought me, mortal?"
Dravis dismounted, and bowed in the presence of The Great Beast.  He spat his requests quickly.
"My master, I have come seeking power, seeking vengence, seeking that which eludes me."
"You know not what you asssk Dravissss of Gill-thaen."
"I claim not to know the answers, merely the questions.  I was told you, The Great Beast Hisk'enatle, may provide me with the answers."
"I do, indeed, know what you ssseek, and know of where you may find your ansssswersss.  And yet. . . What is it that I shall gain from thisssss parley?"
"Why, you thirst for knowledge, do you not Hisk'enatle?"
"I know all that I need."
"You thirst for blood?"
"I've ssspilt more than you could dream of Dravissss."
"Perhaps you seek chaos?  Entertainment to wittle away the eternity in which you live?"
The Great Beast sighed, smoke clouding the air that lay swirling beneath his wings. 
"Indeed, I have grown tired of time's weariless passing.  Few have the ambition to embrace chaos."
The two sat in silence, appraising each other, communing in the ancient art of judgement.
"Very well Dravis.  I ssshall humor you.  Seek Lamia, she may have the answerssss you want.  In the meantime, I shall watch, and provide guidancsse when it is needed.  Be warned, you are a pawn, and a pawn that no longer serves a purpose is. . . -naturally- uselesssss."
"I shall carry your words in my heart Master."
The Great Beast thrashed his wings and then leapt into the sky, showing a grace that seemed unreal for something of his size.  Dravis waited until Hisk'enatle had left, his own hair swept back from the gusts caused by the massive wing's downbeats.  Upon The Master's departure, Dravis turned and began the ride home, back to the Kingdom, back to N'wahnt, back to Lamia's home.

And so, Dravis drove his steed mercilessly through the night. 
His stallion showed no weariness and carried his master with unearthly speed. 
The world sped by. 

~The (THE) Cretin~

[Luth]

In the meanwhile, the Queen has fallen to a strange and terrible desease: she can barely murmble some understanable words, she can't move more than two meters without falling to the floor and, what is more terrible, she seems to have forgotten her name, her kingdom, her mission. At least, this is what it seems for the others... what is in her head? 

[The One]

The young wizard and the Shaman sit down by a campfire they light right before dusk.
"So, this was a spell what hit me? Not an old man's insane overprotection?" said the young one.
"I believe it could be both" replied Odenetl "When the man's stick hit your head something must have happened, an old farmer's blow usually wouldn't knock someone your age out for that long... I believe that someone was there in the fields, watching us, someone who knew why we were there... But who that would be, escapes my knowledge..."
"Tell me, who is this witch? Lamia you called her, right?" Asked the wizard
"Oh yes... Lamia is an ancestral witch, as old as me perhaps. She mastered the arts of Black Magic, and was a threat to Notessomes about three Centuries ago, but the mighty Order of the Paladins of the Cross fought her and her followers, ending in a bloodbath, which eventually lead the witch to unknown lands ever since..." explained Odenetl "But it looks like she has returned, and perhaps it was one of her followers who gave you this vision... But why you? What have you special? You can barely use a bow and an arrow to hunt"
"Hey! Have a little respect for my skills!" exclaimed Carth "You'll be thankful for when I catch a deer that will feed us for a week"
"That is if you catch it..." replied the shaman with a sarcastic look on his face.
Carth didn't bother to continue the conversation, he just watched the fire burn and listened to the chirping of the nighttime birds, and the hoot of the owls...
He lay down but did not fall asleep... He thought of the pretty girl he had engaged a conversation with and wondered if he could ever meet with her again, he just longed to see her eyes again, to see her hair again... And then, he stood up and noticed Odenetl had already fallen asleep.
Carth went to the nearby wood for a walk... What awaited him, was something that he would carry in mind forever...
A mighty Dragon was lurking in the forest, between trees, the beast crept, and seemed to be black under the veil of the night. Carth was tempted to walk close by and see the dragon closer... When his hand touched the dragon's hide, the beast roared in anger, and spit a column of fire that burned the trees nearby, and revealed the red color of the skin of the mighty animal. Carth fell to the ground in fear, but had to run when the dragon spoted the cause of his disgust... Carth cast a simple stunning spell over the beast (which didn't last long on it, about 5 to 10 seconds) and ran away.
The Dragon decided not to bother in following, it was dark and its eyes did not let the beast see the footprints the wizard had left in the humid grass. The Dragon decided to continue on its nocturnal walk...

[VladH]

He was angry... and angry was the least powerful word to call this state. He realy wanted to sleep. Beeing a dragon gives you a lots of opportunities... and no sleep. So when he finally took a little nap somebody woke him up. What he could do? Burn all the trees around and fly. But when the first thing was easy to do the second one was stopped because of some sort of "cheap humanish trick". And who it was? Young shaman, damn them, but... better a shaman than a legion of armoured knights. When he finally broke the spell he spread his wings and fled from this unpleasant area. Too bad that his cave had been plundered weeks ago (damn barbarians).

He was flying for some hours and he really enjoyed it. Finally he noticed good place to take another nap, but now he will be more cautious. He landed and immadietly turned into human shape. Young swordmaster and bard - this was his human image. And then he entered a really good looking Inn.

Inn was full of smoke from the chimney (he love this smell) and not so bad looking humans. He asked inkeeper for beer and payed for it. crossed the inn looking around and sat in the darkened corner...

[Markus]

The priest shuddered, and it was not from the cheap wine that was served here. No, he knew that something important was about to happen. He had, after all, come here for a reason - usually he wouldn't sit in the darkest corner of an inn like this, with his hood drawn deep into his face so noone would recognise him. Not that the hood would have been necessary; noone here seemed to care, anyway. But here he was, and he had been drawn here by a nebulous foreboding that something important would happen here tonight.

Now he shuddered, and a moment later a young man entered the room. Noone cared about him, either, but the priest could see at the first glance that there was something strange about that man, something not quite human. The priest watched him buying a beer and sitting next to himself.

"Good evening, my fiery friend!" he addressed the newcomer.

[IronCretin]

~~~~~~~~~~

Dravis drove his steed mercilessly through the night.
His stallion showed no weariness and carried his master with unearthly speed.
The world sped by.

The Kingdom was descending into darkness.  A vast sky hovered over the farmlands, dotted with stars, and the moon was full, a foreboding sign.  Dravis had rode for what felt like an eternity, from the Vilhallen ranges and back through the swamps.  His ride had been uneventful, a blessing in this most cursed time.  The Kingdom was in the grip of depravity and only those with a keen eye and sharpened senses would note the changes that had occured over the past decade.  You see, when Heaven's Gate fell, so did the Kingdom's defenses against what lay in the moor.  It was a darkened land, the moor, but those who were safe in the Kingdom saw no need to defend themselves, for they were in the womb of their Queen, who was now in the vice of madness.  However, Dravis had no concern for this matter, he only sought Lamia and with her, power. 
He rode on the road to Stilton.  Dravis knew that every man who had a bone for traveling and an ear for gossip would pass through The Severed Crossing Inn and, thus, that was his destination.  He approached the inn and tied his horse to a vacant hitching post.  Entering the inn, he was immediately engulfed in loud, drunken banter.  A small monkey was dancing on a stage to the left, while a band played an old folk song behind him.  The bartender stood at the far end of the room, behind a massive oak bar.  There was a door leading to another wing of the inn to the left of the bartender.  A massive fire was kept burning on the right hand wall, and the smoke flowed freely into the room, adding to the atmosphere.  Candles adorned the walls, haloed by smoke, and a modest chandalier provided light above the stage.  There was a small crowd gathered to watch the festivities, and they were rewarding the dancing primate with peanuts.  Dravis saw two men in the corner, a holy man approaching another with a clearly magickal aura.  He focussed on them, and strode quickly towards them.  Two men of magickal talent would, undoubtably, be able to, willingly or unwilling, aide Dravis in his quest.  'Ho, strangers, I seek. . . knowledge.'

~The (Wayward) Cretin~

[Loke]

   "knowledge seekers are more ignorant when they preach to be seeking it" - one of them said  , "what makes you think knowledge is what you need to succed in your quest, ignorant one?"-said the other- , shocked , our heroe stood still thinking in how the heck one of the men knew about his task, so he approach slowly to them when suddenly... the one that had been further from him reaveal himself from the hood he was partialy wearing and with a voice that seemed to came from the abbyss of thousand deaths he said... " Come and take the "knowledge" you are looking for out of my dead cold hand" and then he...


yo yo yo

[IronCretin]

and then he shifted form.  Dravis' hand went to the pommel of his sword, and he cried out.  'Halt shifter!  I seek no battle from you, nor your holy companion!'  The Priest looked from one man to the next, unsure of which side to take, if a test of mettle was required.   The shifter's form solidified and began to coalesce into a bipedal form, though much more reptillian than it formerly was.  Dravis began to drew his sword, but as he did so, the shifter spoke.  'Do not sstrike me seeker.  Though I may seem unarmed, my breath shall roast you within your armor.' 
'Of that I have no doubt.  I did not come here for trouble, nay, I came for information, as all good questors should.  If you wish me to depart. . . well, I cannot abandon my quest.  Therefore, we may settle this peacefully, as gentlemen, or we may settle this with blood.  Most of which will, undoubtably, be yours.'
The shifter snarled in response, and pressed towards Dravis, however the Priest stepped between the two and spoke.
'Perhaps we may all benefit from hearing each other's tales, for a man hearing a tale and sharing a mug of mead is much more likely to tell friend from foe.'
'Your long-winded friend is right shifter, come, let us drink together and put squabbles aside.'
The three men talked well into the night, and the priest and Dravis found they shared the same goal, Lamia, but Dravis sought her for much darker reasons.  The two men formed an uneasy alliance, one of watchfulness, and filled with little trust.  The priest, although a learned man, did not recognise Dravis for who he was, and Dravis took great care in what he shared from his sordid past.  The shifter agreed to join them, for a time.  His lair had been plundered by barbarians, not long ago, and he hoped to seal their fate, or at least find new treasures with which he may fill his lair.  His powers were strong, but without any real tests they had grown weaker, thus, he also yearned to flex his true powers. 

And so an uneasy trinity was formed.  An unlikely trio, shapeshifter, priest, and dark paladin.  Neither man truly trusting the next.  That night they shared a room (for the inn was well-renowned, but costly), sleeping as best they could, and awoke in the morning to seek out Lamia, who the priest believed to be far to the west, near, or beyond, the Great Sea of Durage. 

~The (Wordy) Cretin~