Posted by Alotho Alliroh on October 17, 2000 at 18:42:11:
--- DESK: --- ROLE: Oceans -- Western Aryth Ocean -- Unchecked legends: Somewhere in the middle of the Western Aryth, under the shining stars, waves From time to time, creatures from the Outlands were striking guard islands, such Related topics: Other information may be found in: ....On the small, but rich isle, in the Alliroh's family fort, people were celebriting. Covered with a strange thick fog, a terrible fleet approached the Arvaroh's Isle. Arvaroh's Fort lied in ruins. Skeltetal warriors overtook the escaping defenders, In the tower, the few survived wizards, and other acolytes of the Circle, were beginning People of the White Circle mourned for their leader, Astenaeus, who gave Lerinke was lying on the huge, beautiful bed, surrounded with flowers and her Honor of the Knights High School, Alotho Alliroh was preparing for his Last Suddenly, all noise on the Arena's stands ceased as the acolyte stepped out on the Arena. Mountains of corpses and rivers of blood surrounded last living peope in the centre Few days later, new tomb was built in the Circle's Cemetry of Heroes. Simple He awoke in a small room with clean, white walls. One wall was the symboll of the -- Do you know, why are you here, son...? You don't. Just listen, it's not a time . " Giant figure, spear in the hand - sparkling. . Healer told nothing to Alotho, except he didn't notice any fog, images or In the dark night, when deep clouds covered a full moon, a small boat left the docks With time, rumors spreads in Hamsah Mu'tazz and villages, surrounding it, about What is the nature of man? What for do we live? Alotho didn't knew. Self In the early morning, high in the mountains to the hidden shrine came No light. No dark. Nothing -- The Void. Emptiness between time and space. Not here "Pain. Pain... What, pain? A pain in the neck... body? Right, my body... I am Alotho, Alotho flinched as his hub bites him slightly on his neck, and opened his eyes. His Alotho spins around, with a short whispering his sword flew up, cutting the troll's Just some (maybe) annoying, not interesting minds. PLEASE Don't read if you are easily getting offended by a bad spelling and grammar errors! I've tired of many many things. First, it's I died (!) four times when my link was 100% dead. I've tired of guys, who saying how much "exp" they have "tnl". And words like "I have 29341 kobolds to kill for my next promotion".... It's same exactly. I am sorry for my language, but I am drained and have no power to check spelling and grammar. Alomar, damnit, lucky punk! Twice we fought, twice I was inanimate. Damnit. Good fighting, though. Another thing - it's code. Damnit, after playing sylvans, I just cannot be so polite! *mutter* - felt myself like a prisoner with this char. I am sure you know, who I was, so I will not scribe or list my characters I've played here. Now I know, when I shall not sanctify room. Also I know that paladins can be NG too. What a surprise. Leud, when I locked you in the closet, I almost fallen down from my chair and woke up my cat. Good story, was very funny. And you are still terrible thief. Who else? I do not think I talked to many of you. Feystrim, (red aura) means evilness for Marans, no? You are really easy-to-explode one. Take it easy. Sylvans, I miss you. :P Maybe I will return one day to CF... maybe even tomorrow, or in a few years. I miss Flonty. Miss badly. I miss cabal channel. :P And chameleon, feeling naked without it - sylvan's powers really overpowered and addictive. And my ISP is worst in the world. Anathema to my ISP, Time to take a nap. :)
Possibly larger than double is size than most, this true giant rises high above
all others. Tied to the crown of his head, in a bundle, lies a heap of milky
white hair, its tendrils hanging down to his waist. Huge round eyes of a strange
yellow peer intently at you from beneath his large forehead. His face is a perfect
oval, to gentle to be a warrior's but loved most among women. His nose is small
and his lips have the innocense of a child. His clothes are iridescent and even
in the mild breezes they do not move. Upon his shoulder sits a spider-like
creature, its paws, if thats what you want to call them, appear massive; and
this creature is covered with a thin fur. With eight piercing yellow eyes, like
those of his master, this creature pierces into your being, staring intently at
you.
A page from the Great World Encyclopedia of the White Circle (tome XII):
crushed on the rocks of the small isle -- Isle of Arvaroh. This legendary isle
countered innumerous amount of attacks from the Outlands -- nobody could tell you
for sure, what it is, except maybe one thing -- Outlands is a horror, nightmare
and a legend. Brave sailors, who tried to find a way there, returned back to the
lands without any luck. Rumor say of those who found it, lost their mind and even the
best healers couldn't help the poor ones. People believe that the Outlands is Chaos
itself, though nobody is really sure.
as Arvaroh was. Each time it was different foes -- worms, some strange mass,
pearl drakes that shined in the sun, pirates... Attacks that seemed to have no reason
or sytem. People adapted and built forts on the islands, and forgot about
this danger -- maybe, even eternal danger.
Legend: Alliroh's death.
Legend: Alotho - Savior or Destroyer?
Legend: Warlord (topic: Western Aryth)
"Sir Manga Melifaro World Encyclopedia", tome VI, page XLIV.
Celerithing a new birth. Their master, Ornald Alliroh, had a third child born,
and stars promised him a great and famous future. Lerinke, his young wife, happily
accepted best wishes, congratulations, and presents of great value... And no
one could see the signs of danger and destruction in the sky that marked Alotho's life,
as the child was named. Elders of the Arvaroh's White Circle, mighty conclav of
famous warriors, healers and wizards, gladely agreed to teach him. People were
celebriting, wine splashed like magical flowers, fireworks flourished in
the night sky.
This isle was first and smallest isle on the Western Ocean. Fort, guarding inner
lands from the intruders such as this fleet, should fall first - and very fast,
before guardians could warn blessed Lords... and the White Circle, ofcourse.
Warlord was standing on the larger ship and watching his mages do their work.
No one knew his real name - and no one dared to ask him about it. Ships landed.
Unseen by mortal eyes, and even unseen by the magical traps, strange skeletal troops
silently disembarked.
indifferently murdering them. Rivers of blood flowed down to the water, that was
deep blue this day... and now red. The Fort fell, and only a few wizards of the
Circle kept one last tower from the foes. Surrounded with an army of the skeletons and
mages of the Night, defenders had no chance. And they were perfectly realising
it...
Rituals. Not strong enough to defend Lerinke and her child, all they could do was aid her
in finding a way to escape. The ritual ended, and Lerinke with her son slowly disappeared
in the vortex they created, that was growing with every second. A few minutes
later, the tower exploded, burning skeleton armies with a hot wave of flame. Unable
to stop, or control the explosion, defenders sacrificed themselves to save other's
lives. Warlord, escaped at the last moment, master's wife and her baby were the only
ones who survived this battle. Island of Arvaroh was no more, and only the vortex
of red was left whirling at the place of tragedy.
his life to save inner lands from the armies of Warlord. Along with the loss of Astenaeus,
The White Circle lost their best wizards, healers and strongest warriors. Nobody knew, who
won the battle - Warlord, by destroying the head of the White Circle, or Astenaeus with his
friends, who completely destroyed Warlord's terrible army... And strange rumors
spread about Lerinke and her child. Acolytes and shamans were breaking their
heads, guessing why their leader gave his life for Lerinke... or her child? Nobody
knew.
new friends. Lerinke was dead, dead a few days allready, but rot didn't touch
her perfect, young body. Nobody knew why she died or how. There was talk from the
shamans about her wish to join her beloved husband, Ornald Alliroh. And one morning,
she didn't wake up. Alotho, her son, who was young yet but already understanding everything,
he didn't cry... Another death, another death on the hands of his foe - Warlord.
Challenge. He already passed Phylosophy, History, Polotics and many many
others, but it they were easy enough. Now, he shall defeat his own fears on arena
- and who knows, what they are? Not many students of the School accepted the
Last Challenge, and only few survived it. Alotho drew his runed sword, and
stepped into the Arena.
Young, but allready famous and beloved by everyne in the Circle, acolyte
Alotho crossed the battlefield and settled down on his left knee before the main
pedestal. A tradition of the Arena, everyone could ask the judge for any one thing,
before their battle was to begin... Alotho asked for nothing. He only lifted his sword in
salute and returned to the centre of the Arena. And Battle began.
of the Arena. Basrord, the honor of the School, passed the Last Challenge... almost.
Alotho Alliroh was dying. He defeated every single foe he encountered - considering
this victory, does his life matters anything? Laws of the Arena was simple enough:
"A person must leave the Arena by himself. If a person can not, they will die and
honorable death there." Alotho was dying, and no one was able to save his young life.
tombstone with Alotho's name carved on it was lying upon the grave, surrounded
with the dark roses. And no one knew the truth - the grave was empty...
Green Brothers. It was a circle in the corner of another circle, crossed with
three simple lines. A small white door, almost unseen, was closed in another wall.
Alotho couldn't find any source of light, but the room was brightly lit. Alotho stood
from the bed when door opened and one of the green brothers walked in. A high ranked
healer, judging by the symbol on his plain green robes. He quietly sat down on the floor,
legs crossed, and watched Alotho for a while. Then, he began to speak.
to ask anything... You had died, my son, died on the Arena. It was predicted and
expected. -- The Healer sighed sadly. -- If we could, you would be saved from this
pain... but we cannot change the ways of fate. You must be known as dead now. It
can't disguise our foes... and your foes. It will stop them for a bit - and I
hope, give you enough time to escape from the island. Yes, you don't know them.
But they are already looking for you. Don't ask me why. I don't know - none of us
know for sure. In a hour, you will be transported to another continent - I
think, to the famous city, Hamsah Mu'tazz. My brothers in their meditations found
a task for you. It was a few strings - here, I scribed it for you. -- The Healer
retrieved a small paper from his robes and began to recite it:
. Made from lightning. .
. Strike down from .
. the mountaintop. .
. .
. Watching mortal deeds, laughing at their greed .
. And lust. .
. Blessing brave ones who .
. are scared not of Life. " .
As the Healer finished, in silence, a white fog slowly gathered. Mysterious images
appeared and immedietly morphed into another. The City changed into the skull,
skull - into a dark citadel, then into the burning fire, woman's face, gold coin,
corpse, and so on. Finally, everything gone from the fog, leaving it clear. And,
before the fog was completely gone, three images appeared there. First was mountain,
rising at the Ocean. Second - a lion, tearing a dead orc. And third - someone's face.
Dark skinned, with a narrow eyes, framed with a grey hairs. The person was looking
evily, like it was trying to see through the fog - but the fog disappeared before he
could suceed.
anything else. Ofcourse, he was not denying anything. Who knows these miracles,
that surround us? All he could recommend, was to find the giant figure from the
strange poem. What it could be? A king or sultan? Powerful wizard? Or some
spirit? Or, even God? Nobody knew. Nothing could been found in the libraries,
legends kept silence. Alotho Alliroh, last of Arvaroh's defenders, and last
survived of Alliroh's, begans his hunt.
of the island. Three figures could be seen in the boat - and one of them was
very like that of Alotho Alliroh, fallen winner of the Arenar. Another figure, not so
large, but not less dangerous, was on the oars. Third was looking forward,
sometimes rising his hands, showing a right directon to sail. A week later,
large ship aboarded to the Hamsah Mu'tazz's docks. Sailors began to disembark
exotic goods, aromatic oils, unseen before sorts of tobacco, carpets with
strange pictures on it. During all this noise and fuss nobody paid attention
even at such huge giant, as Alotho was. South, by the river, in the cavern, he made
a small house from the rocks and animal pelts he found. Sometimes, when
he was hunting -- or just walking around, he was looking up, at the "mountain,
rising high above the sea". One day, when he will be able to find ways in the
mountains, he will travel there.
a strange person in the forest south of the city. Nobody saw him, but many could
swear - he is somewhere around. One was saying he is just living in the mountains.
One was saying he is hunthing travellers or others who are hunting there. And no
one dared to enter deep into the mountain forests.
improvement? But why, you will die sooner or later... For children and family?
Alotho has nothing, except his blades, hub and some old clothes. For keeping
and gathering knowledge and expirience? Maybe, but life can be perfect without
it. Treasures? Ofcourse, no. Alotho was meditating, as he was taught in the
Knight's School. He didn't have answer - not yet.
a giant person. White hairs shining in the rising sun, his face beautiful face and calm.
He nods his head and bows slightly, stepping into the shrine. Raising his hands
to the sky, he prayed. Prayer ended, and the person sats at the corner of the shrine,
eyes closed and animation leavs his body. Sitting there in meditation, he was
awaiting. Hub jumps down from his shoulder, and goes to find him some food. He
was not bothered by actions of his friend, nor seems to worry about him. Some
fresh grass and early-dew -- what can be better then that?
nor there. No feelings yourself - but you can sense everything. One second is
the age. No answers, no quesitons. Good or bad? It doesn't mean everything.
No wishes. No minds. Big small clots of -- light? Words, phrases. Poems. They
mean nothing and everything. Lightnings of non-imagination crossing emptiness.
Meditation. Meditation... Meditation.......................
Alotho Alliroh -- and I am within the Storm..."
mind, all this time flying somewhere, returned to his body. Right afront of him was
rising a huge person, wind was crushing him without any visible result -- and he
was enjoying it! It was Him. Deus Uller, of whom about Alotho heard so much, and
to whom he was praying here. Alotho losts his voice, unable to speak, paralyzed
by the might of this God, standing infront of him. Everything he had to say suddenly
dissapeared from his young head, leaving only scraps of thoughts, forming some strange mix.
They had spoken for long, of many things. Of good and bad things, of terrible events
and future joyful days. With every second Alotho felt his minds becoming solid,
chaotic mess in his head became to forms into a shape. And at least, he felt himself
solid, united with his faith and body - Spirit of the Storm, Deus Uller, has
blessed him. He was much more, then a plain crusader in the Circle now. Hub jumps
on his shoulder when he left storm, filled with a sacred strength of the Storm.
head from it's body. Deep red blood, dark in the light of rising sun, absorbed by the
grass. Trolls, a heartless creatures, who is murdering just for lust, always
made Alotho's to grimace in disgust. Who made them? Why? What dark mage, or even
God, did it? Trolls were destroying forest, in wich they lived. It reminded Alotho
many others, humans, elves, giants, who were cutting down trees to build walls, hunting
animals to wear their skins and made toys from the bones for their childers. Isn't
this the same as trolls do? Destroying their home and hiding from it's wrath
behind the walls within the cities, where they are murdering each other... With a
sadly sigh, Alotho steps forward, cutting another troll from it's houlder to the
middle of his chest. Questions, questions... but is there an answers? Alotho turns
to another troll.
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First paladin, first storm giant I ever played. And I must admit, I did terrible.
be it's name forgotten and their owners boil in hell. Right.