what tangled webs are spun...

[chiikurayami]

when realities unravel and come undone.


Dreams of a race long gone filled her head; the forefathers of her people-- the dream weavers, the mystics, the “faeries” who made off with the children of mortals and called them their own. They were the recorders of the most ancient histories-- the most beautiful of ballads— that spoke of the breaking and creating of Athylin, the coming of mortal men by great wooden ships from the seas, the sudden appearance of the dwarves from what seemed to be the very rocks themselves, the birth and final death of the dragons at the hands of “courageous” knights. They were the keepers of the most arcane and deepest magicks; they heard the very whispering of the earth beneath their feet, the laments of the waves, the lullabies of the rain and the gentle winds. And slowly, the yousei faded, their lore passed to the elves only in bits and pieces, until nothing but the song of their memories remained.

Kira stirred in her sleep as the images danced through her head. She saw the old ruins forming in her mind, splendid again as they danced their rings around a witch fire as the moon shone over their head, casting them in eerily light. The palace in the forests of Tantara was whole again and she could catch snatches of song from the open windows. The light glinted off the shining armour of the sentries. The gardens were rich and alive with vibrant colours Kira had only ever seen in her dreams.

She forced herself to wake up; the images were too heartbreaking to continue. The morning light cut through her vision, pouring through the simple window in the wall. She sat up and held her head in her hands, realizing that she was sweating and breathing heavily. The dreams were so calm and peaceful, and yet they caused her such misery, as though the ghosts of long before had come to taunt her.

They spoke of another time, when the world belonged to the races of the earth and them alone. And then the mortals came in their hulking ships. At first it meant nothing. Theirs was a small race, of little importance to the rest of the world. But slowly their number grew larger and they began to envy the other beings, began to covet their secrets and that’s when the trouble began.

The Men began to learn of the art of war and slowly mastered the producing of weapons. Those that were more intoned to the rhythms of the world took up the lesser of magicks. It was because of a few petty mortal sorcerers that the monsters of the deepest dark, the nightmares were awakened. And it was because of Man that the old lore, the ancient ways, were lost.

Now the yousei and dragons were gone, the dragons no more, and the elves dwindled in number in their few secluded villages. The dwarves still sought open trade with the men. The men knew of the whereabouts of the elves, as some (though still very few) of the fairer folk were known to travel and stay in the towns of the younger race, but very few mortals saw an elf in their lifetime.

Kira slid out of her simple bed onto the earthen floor. The sun had already risen for some time now. She quickly dressed in drab corset and robe of an apprentice and ran a bone comb through her long midnight hair. From behind the door she could hear the sound of soft singing and knew that it was Shenia, the elven sorceress. Kira stepped from her room and greeted her master of the arts.

Shenia was a tall blonde elf who was much older than Kira could have guessed. She had deep brown eyes that seemed to see right through a person into the very depths of their soul. Shenia was the wisest of the elves in this small community in the eastern woods. Kira has come to learn of her the arts of the arcane magic.
Shenia looked up from the pot she was stirring (which was giving off a faint perfume smell) and nodded her head in acknowledgement to Kira’s greeting before she began in her admonishments.

“You rose late this morning,” she said, her voice brisk and clear as a brook, “And there are things that must be done. There is a bit of parchment there on the little table,” she pointed, “of herbs that I will need.”

Kira nodded her head, took the list and set off outside. The day was nice; autumn was still a month away, so the air was warm. She set off the usual path into the deeper parts of the forest, humming a broken tune as she went. The plants that she must find were not too difficult to find, but she was forbidden to use magic for such simple tasks. As she walked under the shade of the trees—which were growing taller and thicker the farther she went—she could not know that the quiet little life she had known would change so quickly…

[ferohers]

The wind blew the white hair into his face, covering his deep green eyes. He brushed it aside and leapt down a branch. It barely quivered with his weight. The sun shone brightly and rays of it snuck through the foliage enlightening the forest in its golden rays He saw a man walking in the forest. The man was heavy set and wore tattered brown pants with a haversack shirt; his face was dirty and covered in a red beard. He was stalking a doe, the bearded man pulled an arrow from his quiver, and notching the bow he began to aim. “Death has called your name” the white haired figure whispered, the man spun around to see the Elf with white hair and green eyes jumping down toward him from one of the trees. Suddenly a flash of steel, blood squirted onto the trees around the two figures. The hunter fell to the ground. There in the woods stood a lone elf holding a blood soaked scythe. And at his feet a hunter breathed his last breathe before taking the great journey. “Justice” whispered the Elf.

[Grim Jestor]

The dwarf, walking along with his great war-hammer Thunderclap strapped across his broad back, saw the human peasant first, although he had made no attempt at silence... Nor could he have, for his mail shirt rattled slightly with every step, but the dwarf, long accustomed to battle, barely noticed it was there. This man must have been truly desperate, to hunt here, but the dwarf merely greeted him, "Luck in your hunting, and meat for your table."

"May your beard grow ever longer, and your hands never fail to grip the hammer." The humans, weak in lore and short of life, never ceased to be surprising. They passed each other, the red-bearded man in search of game, and the dwarf looking for adventure. They met again only slightly later, under slightly different circumstances...

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This human hunter had known the ritual greeting of old, had responded with an uncharacteristic respect to the ancient dwarf as they met upon a disused forest road only hours before, and now the man lay dead in a drying splatter of his own blood, an ugly slash evidence of the cowardly attack of some kind of assassin. But this one was allowed to face his killer, although given no chance to fight back. This one met the reaper here, and turned to face him... Respectful or not, the dwarf knew, this human should have known that hunting in these woods was off-limits to mortals, even if intentions were pure... elves ruled here, wise and strong, but not known for their mercy upon mankind, destroyer of everything it touched. Gam'l the Grim, old warrior turned traveler, was not headed in any particular direction, but since his 'release' from the king's army he had wandered aimlessly, trying to find something to do with his twilight years.

Gam'l was dressed in an old, black tunic over his armor and a traveling cloak of the same color, with a hood attached. He wore no insignia upon his clothing, for he was no longer a member of any faction, although he would have gladly died with his hammer in hand, and by now his boots were scuffed and stained from the dust of countless steps in search of some kind of meaning beyond the battlefield. From under the hood, which was pulled up to hide his features as much as possible, only his prominent dwarven nose, jaw, and long gray beard were visible, the latter flowing down and tucked into a broad leather belt, and besides the hammer he carried no other weapon, tool, or pack. Dwarves can carry supplies for long distances, but with no direction in mind Gam'l the Grim had been living off the land for months now, skilled in woodscraft and hunting, but he did not dare hunt here in the lands of the elves, even though he was not human. The elves never forgot, never forgave, and they were not on any friendlier terms with dwarves than men... Gam'l himself had fought in the great war so long ago, when he was still a young dwarf, untried in battle, in which dwarf and elf had fought and killed one another. The dwarves had taken the side of mortal man, their trading partners and sometimes friends and allies... but upon their eventual victory over the opposing elven army, if it could be called that, the men had also turned on the dwarves, fearing and distrusting them. Now, with relations strained at best, Gam'l did not pity the dead man. Instead, he took the man's bow and arrows, for the dead have no more use for weapons.

[ferohers]

The elf saw the dwarf steal the man’s weapons, but since they were poorly made, and the elf didn’t care, he let the dwarf. After watching him walk through the deranged elf’s forest for a while the elf decided to approach the dwarf. From a high branch, well out of throwing distance, the elf asked the dwarf a riddle. “eh, dwarf, what runs but never walks, has a mouth but never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a bank, but never keeps?” the white haired elf sat silently waiting for the dwarf to answer, for this was an easy riddle and dwarfs were masters of riddles. Scythe at the ready, the elf sat waiting…..

[Grim Jestor]

Gam'l the Grim kept on walking, ignoring the mocking challenge for the time being. Instead of speaking, Gam'l notched an arrow and let fly in the direction from which he thought he heard the voice, along with a challenge of his own, crying in a loud voice, "May the river carry your filthy corpse forever, foul murdering elf!" He knew that even if the arrow was headed anywhere near the place where the elf stood, almost certainly hiding behind the thick trunk of some tree, it would be dodged with ease... but Gam'l had never intended to actually hit anything. Instead, he hoped to anger the arrogant voice's owner enough to entice him down to the ground, down the place where dwarves are the deadliest. In anticipation, Gam'l dropped the shoddy bow, which was already showing signs of coming to pieces, and took his great hammer Thunderclap in his strong hands, ready for an attack. Even though the killing of that peasant hunter was surely just, according to the rule of this forest, Gam'l did not take kindly to the killing of a man who surely was only searching for a way to feed his starving family, even if he was a human...

...And, of course, the deep-seated animosity between dwarves and elves was always looking for a way to leap to the surface, always looking for some minor point upon which to start an argument or a major war. There were some among the kings under the mountain who even now called for another great war, but this time a champaign of extermination, to remove the "elven threat" from the world once and for all. Gam'l, although merely a loyal soldier and not extreme in his political views, could not help being somewhat contaminated by the views of his people, and so he prepared for battle, expecting his enemy to land silently behind him and attack, with the cowardice-and great skill- of a true elf...

[ferohers]

“Your arrows fall shorter than your beard, you short little bastard!” taunted the elf. He then jumped to the ground in front of the dwarf, about 100 paces away, scythe still at the ready, and his eyes burning with hatred for all beasts except elven, for this “protector” of the woods if that’s what you would call this deranged and quite blood thirsty elf, was ready to fulfill his twisted vision of elven supremacy. “They told us we wasn’t allowed near them, they said. But soon they’ll see, they called us, fools and crazies they called us, yes. But now, now we will kills us a dwarf, then they will worship us, elven bastards.” The elf muttered to him self as he smiled insanely at the dwarf.

His years of magic warfare had left his soul shattered, and each piece wanted to rule its body. But still he stood there, muttering insanely and all the while waiting for the dwarf to move. Constantly vigilant.

[Grim Jestor]

The trees themselves seemed to emanate a kind of vibrant life which was absent from the rest of the world, almost as if the land of the elves was leeching life's very essence from the rest of the world, merely to prolong and enrich their own existence. The dwarf had already stepped inside this undrawn border, thus sealing his fate in one way or another, and did not intend to back down to the taunting of one insane elf... If, of course, this scythe-wielding maniac were any different than the others that dwelt here.

Gam'l the Grim did not stop to speculate, though, for there were more important matters at hand. The elf was on the ground, and thus immediately vulnerable to Thunderclap's strike, for no warrior, be he mortal or not, could best a dwarf in single combat. Unsurpassed in endurance and strength, the dwarves had survived thus far by brute force and determination, as well as the willingness to dig themselves deep under the ground when times grew too difficult, or in the search for precious metals and gems. The dwarves were now the most powerful of all races, mostly due to their constantly increasing wisdom since the horrors of the great war, for now they did not deal with any other race except to trade or do battle. The dwarves had closed themselves off and did not intend to relax their barricades any time soon, but this insane elf could not know any better. This elf must have thought that a lone dwarf was easy prey, especially one which shot as badly as Gam'l, but now the elf was about to be taught a lesson.

Uttering a great and ancient battle-cry, Gam'l the Grim rushed forward, gripping Thunderclap securely, ready to land a death blow upon this impudent elf...

[chiikurayami]

Kira was stunned into stillness as she came around a bend in the forest. The foul stench of death invaded her senses and through the trees she saw two figures, one a tall elf and the other a dwarve. She allowed herself only a brief moment of curiousity as to what a dwarve was doing in these woods before she hid herself amoung the tall trees and few bits of scrub brush.

The dwarve and elf were doing nothing more than exchange insults, but Kira watched as it escalated and she grew fearful as it began to progress into violence. She watched with bated breath as the dwarve raised his ax...

[ferohers]

A sudden crack resounded through the forest as the elf suddenly appeared behind the dwarf. "Magic over bronze. tsk tsk, foolish dwarve should knows better, they's supposed to be's intelligent they are's. Must be a bit mistaked in the heady".
eee-hahaha a wickedly sour laugh emitted from the elf. "Settle down short one, we's only wanted to have fun, dont make us kills you, course we's would kill's you, wit pleasures of muchly-ness, wes would, skin your stubby hide, but we's have decided, since a womanly looks upon our little talk-ity, we's is gonna lets you live".


Then the elf jumped into a nearby tree, laughing hysterically, and whispering to himself insanely. "Shows herself she should, before we decides.....if.....death is calling her's name." Said the elf aloud, so the unknown woman would hear, he had barely detected her, and although seeming almost unintelligent, the muttering elf was constantly vigilant. and noticed even the dragonfly perched on the leaf of a nearby tree, direcly behind the dwarf and there he sat, waiting, and muttering intently to himself. Yet watching both his ponds in this little game he had made, with utter alertness..

[Grim Jestor]

Gam'l the Grim halted comically, almost falling over his own feet in his confusion. Mere moments before, he had been planning on the elf appearing behind him, had even been ready to strike the moment it happened, hammer in hand, but somehow... somehow that crazy elf had managed to goad him into rushing forward, heedless of danger. It might have cost him his life, he knew, if not for the one who the maniac claimed was watching... there was that, and the hope of a real person rather than some imagined enemy, but also... Gam'l was no longer holding his mighty bronze hammer Thunderclap. Family legend claimed that Thunderclap was in the hands of the first dwarf when he journeyed across the great wastelands from the Ancient Kingdom, and true or not the hammer had caved in the heads of many foes in its long life, so its sudden loss stunned Gam'l even more than his near brush with death.

"My... my... I was... and now..." He could not even complete a thought, for the object which he now held was definitely not a hammer, but rather a great double-edged battle ax, and though he strained to remember he could not recall the moment when the thing in his hand had stopped being Thunderclap, and become this silly-looking weapon, unwieldy and overly ornamental. Fine lines of pure silver were forged into the handle, curling and breaking in places as if to suggest writing in an unknown language, at least to the dwarf warrior, who was faster with his hands than his mind anyway. Gam'l the Grim finally found his voice, howling in total fury, "Which of you thrice-blasted elves has taken my hammer?" With that, he hurled the battle ax away from him, and to his surprise it spun and struck a nearby oak with such force that the tree, thicker than his waist, shivered and fell. Saying nothing more, the dwarf retrieved his new weapon, warily glancing from side to side. Thunderclap would return, for as the family legend claimed it always did, but for now he would use this strange ax...

He heard laughter from above, and although he might have thought the magic-using elf would play such a trick, Gam'l doubted that Thunderclap would have been replaced by a stronger weapon... insane or not, it would have made far more sense to leave a butter-knife in its place. No, there were other forces at work here...

[chiikurayami]

Kira stared at the new ax the dwarf held in disbelief. Did she do that? It wouldn't be the first time her magic had "gotten loose" from her and she had been worrying for the safety of the dwarf even though she had been raised all her life being told that she was supposed to hate them.

She had heard about that elf. He was the protector of the forest, but some say he had gone mad. The slow destruction of the forest by humans slowly drove him crazy. And while she was scared of him, she felt sad and pitied him. For he alone felt the pain of the forest without any protection.

She began to feel that it would be more dangerous to stay hidden like some thief in the night tahn to come into the open. This elf may go after other creatures, but surely not one of his kindred. And while the dwarf was powerful, brute strength was nothing to magic.

Taking a deep breath she stepped from her hiding spot back onto the little path.

[ferohers]

"ooooohhhh, Looksy looksy, the uglys dwarf has founded a new weapon, very cute its is, *sniff* i smells the working of magics about" mocked the elf.

with much speed and agility the elf dropped to the ground, and just before he hit the ground, a loud crack resounded and he appeared right in front of the woman, scythe ready to strike, but when he saw her face, he stopped, she was not meaning any harm, she was young, and probably not well trained in the arts, but she had summoned an ancient weapon, one most frightfully dangerous, especially in the hands of a dwarf. Her magic was stronger than most, but lacked finesse.

"tsk, tsk, the woods is not a place, for little elvish girly's, theres bes a crazy old elf in these's woods, i knows him, and he's frightfully mad." said the elf smiling hysterically.

Then turning toward the dwarf, the elf whispered something, and vines whipped up from the forest floor and seized the axe from his hands." Does you knows what this axe is, or the powerly's it holdses, elven miss? It's name is Farricus Morticus, which is the language of the anciently ones-es, in our tongue it means, "wish of death" because it hads brought much deathlys to both sides of the war."

"As for you, bastard dwarf, Whys do you harm my forestly. What has it done to you?" inquired the elf, much rage and loathing in his words.

[Grim Jestor]

Under his hood, Gam'l the Grim smiled, truly a ghastly sight if not for the concealing whiskers. Smiling was not a natural thing for a dwarf, and least of all for this particular one. This elf does not know a thing about dwarves, except maybe how to kill them. His hand remembered the feel of Farricus Morticus already, and the old dwarf knew that the ax also remembered him. "To me!", he cried, with a tone of command in his voice, and the great weapon tore itself free of the forest guardian's pathetic vines to return to a hand which would wield it with skill: Gam'l's. "You will not succeed in such charlatanry again, foul elf, for now is your ancient weapon truly mine; and thus I rename it, to twist your words, Deathwish, and never in life shall it leave my hands again!"

Deathwish, as if in agreement, flashed once far brighter than any possible reflected sunlight, the inscribed runes upon the handle burning white-hot for only an instant, enough to make Gam'l swear loudly as exact copies of the runes branded his palms. "...By the Beard of the Ancient..."

The forest guardian laughed again, then, "Foolish little dwarfses, now Farricus Morticus ownses you, muchly wishes of death you shall, buts, it nevers leaves you, you will never gets your peacelyness."

"Be this the truth, fair lady, or does this mad-elf spin lies upon lies?" Gam'l the Grim assumed a far more humble tone when addressing Kira, for surely this one was filled with an arcane power--known or not--which far surpassed that of the forest guardian. It would not do well to anger such a one, especially with a possibly cursed elven weapon, of unknown powers, which had only now burned its mark into his flesh...

[OOC: Thanks, Ferohers, for writing your character's dialog for me!]

[ferohers]

"dwarfsy, not so tough when speakings to the misseslys, is he now." Mocked the insane elf.

He lept upward and disappeared among the foliege. A loud laugh resounded about the clearing, suddenly there was a loud resounding crack, and then another, and another, soon they were everywhere.

As the dwarf stood there looking around, the elf screached at the top of his lungs "DIE DWARF", suddenly a large branch came swinging from a nearby tree and planted a fierce blow on the dwarfs chest. soon the rest of the trees began to do the same, thousands upon thousands of branches began to flail about, whipping and slashing at the dwarf, but the dwarf was weilding quite a weapon, and began to fight back. as the dwarf cut the branches, the elf felt a tingling in his arm, he looked down, and saw a gash upon his wrist, a green sticky substance, slowely oozed out. in disbelief the elf raised his scythe above his head, and whispered quietly, "cease", and the branches suddenly stopped.

[Grim Jestor]

The first branch to the chest felt like being hit by a warhorse at full gallop, something that tended to happen now and then in world-spanning wars, and
Gam'l was lifted bodily from the ground and thrown back by the force of the blow. That'll leave a mark, he thought darkly to himself, as he pictured the hours of work it would take to repair his armor after that one... At that point, he had already decided that he was going to win, if he had to take apart the whole forest to do so. But it was no longer thinking time... the other trees had also taken on an insane and hateful animation, and it was all he could do to dodge the hardest blows, although many smaller branches whipped him cruelly about the face and neck, leaving his hood in tatters and his face a mask of blood. Wielding his new weapon, which he found to be the ideal thing for such an odd fight, the dwarf was able to land only a few blows of his own, chancing to block with the sharp edge instead of the ax's broad, flat surface... if it hadn't been for the sudden cessation, he might not have been able to hold out... but why? Why did it stop?

Staggering and breathing heavily, Gam'l the Grim still was able to hurl a few more insults into the face of his enemy, "Foolish elf! Come down and face me, dwarf to mad-elf, and see which of us walks away! Only cowards need a whole forest to fight a single dwarf, but even your whole forest cannot overcome Deathwish!" A terrible silence fell upon the land, not a leave twitching, for the elf's control of this place was still complete. Gam'l realized that in his boasting he had gone entirely too far...

A sharp crack echoed from somewhere far above. Another branch? The dwarf tensed himself for what must surely be a losing battle... Another one like that and he would be done for, but was it possible that the mad-elf did not realize how close he had come to ending Gam'l the Grim for good? Gam'l hoped not...

[meskarune]

Meskarune, a brown haired golden eyed elf rode atop her lightning lizard through the forest. She wasn't quite into deeper woods and was surrounded by bright sunlight and juvinille trees. Her rust colored lightning lizard was packed with an assortment of items and she had the look of someone who traveled a lot.

Meskarune's main interest was lore. She loved books, strange artifacts and obscure spells... often putting everything else aside in the pursuit of such things. And while she is a very capable and talented mage, Meskarune is far more likely to sit and talk to an ogre about its eatting habits over a glass of ale than kill one. She ussually keeps large beasts in her company to fight or scare off anything that bothers to attack and uses her charm to gain the upper hand the rest of the time.

Her father, (she grimaced at the thought of him: a very stuborn and traditional elf) thought her loremaster's neutrality very unbecoming of an elf, but even he had to admit that she could probably walk up to even a dragon and say "good day" without getting killed.

There was a loud crack that eched through the forest.
"I wonder what that could be?" She glanced down at the bored looking lightning lizard. "Why don't we find out!" The lizard Scutled in the direction of the sound and as they got closer the air seemed to crackle with magic.

"Most people would turn back by now...But better die knowing than live in ignorance I always say! And perchance there could be some interesting treasure or Ruins in this forest, I should like to see it!"

[OOC: This is my first time posting in character so any help/suggestions, tips, etc would be great. Anyway, hello everyone!]

[Grim Jestor]

As Gam'l the Grim watched in stunned disbelief, a great branch came crashing to the ground, and with it the limp body of what appeared to be a very ancient elf. Elves, in their natural state, do not grow old... they merely continue on until they die in a battle for some noble cause or fade away into the west... so an old elf was a rarity indeed...

...The dwarf did not know if he should rush forward to finish his enemy, or stand in awe at such a sight, an elf who should have been dead many times over from much sadness and much distress, especially with the world in such a state as it was now, lying there helpless among the ruins of tree branches and fallen leaves, with a strange green substance oozing out of a nasty cut on its arm... His anger suddenly gone, Gam'l slowly moved toward the fallen elf, reaching for a hidden pouch of healing herbs, the whole time wrestling mentally with himself.

He tried to kill me!

He did not know what he was doing! He is obviously deranged and very badly injured...

He tried to kill me... so end the threat!

I cannot kill an elf with an elven weapon... surely, it would turn upon me instead...

So bash his filthy elf head in with a rock or a branch!

But if I help him... he will owe me his life...

...Yes, an elf with a life-debt... what a rarity...

For noble reasons or not, the decision to heal the injured elf won out... Gam'l the Grim slowly and carefully applied a generous portion of healing herbs to his enemy's wound, not certain what effect an ancient dwarven remedy would have upon an elf...

[ferohers]

As the elf wrestled with his "soul pieces" in his mind. he began to feel tingling in his arm, like being submurged in icey water, then suddenly a burning, and all at once, he awoke.

"Arrghhhh" he jumped up and yelled, then scraped the infernal mixture of herbs off himself. As he looked around he noticed that the dwarf stood only yards away, a small pouch, visibly opened and filled with herbs.

"yous is gonna regrets that one, stupidly awful twistedly dwarfses. You trieds to poisons us, and nows you will pay fors its." Growled the elf. then he whispered something almost inaudible, and his scythe came flying like a blade of grass on the wind, from a nearby tree, then landed in his hand, he smiled sadistically.

The wind began to blow harshly, making the elfs hair blow around, whipping over his head. He began to whisper again and as he whispered a small swirling began to take place in the leaves in between the both of them.

suddenly there was a loud resounding snap and the swirling leaves fell to the ground, and there in between them stood a single twisting globule, and inside of it there was white sand, a constantly moving, never ceasing sand, it seemed almost....alive. and as the dwarf looked upon it with interest and a small hint of fear, the elf looked upon it with much sadistic glee, and envy, for its power.

"does you know whats this is, stupidly dwarfses?" asked the elf, he hoped the dwarf didn't. for revealing things to others, henceforth proving superiority in knowledge, was a much saught after enjoyment of the deranged old elf. so he stood waiting for the dwarf to answer...


on the wind the trees told him of an onlooker, an elven maiden, much like the other they were paying so little attention to, riding a lizard of some sort..."how odd" he thought to himself, "let us hope she reveals herself, before we must reveal her." he thought silently looking at the dwarf with much disgust at his ignorant choice of placing dead remnants of the things the elf had sworn his life to protecting, upon the elf's skin, further more burning the already opened wound of the bleeding forest...