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 Post subject: #311 Rebirth (5/1/09)
PostPosted: Fri May 01, 2009 4:53 pm 
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Hi, all. :) The new topic is: rebirth. Good luck and have fun! I can't wait to read your posts!!

JacLyn :)

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 Post subject: SUB: Rebirth (5/1/09) - Jim Brown III
PostPosted: Mon May 04, 2009 12:01 pm 
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There wasn't much Vermillnyr could do to stave off the attack. Volley after volley of magic smashed into the shield, weakening it ever so quickly. The dragon's armor held off most of the physical attacks, but some were starting to get through to the flesh beneath. Damage was beginning to mount faster than Vermillnyr could repair. If this continued, it would only be a matter of time before the aggressors would win.

Aggressors.

Vermillnyr had come from seemingly nowhere and created a great alliance of dragons and werefolk. Even the treelings had been impressed enough to send representatives. The mysterious Energions appeared as well, giving the newly growing alliance a great amount of clout and the other races began lining up to at least see what was behind it all if not joining outright.

As things were finalized, Vermillnyr sprang his trap. The moment when all leaders of the races were focusing their thoughts on him and what he had accomplished, he invaded their minds with the Stone of Tempting Thoughts and tapping their innate greed, deluded them into aligning to his will absolutely.

Within moments, the assorted armies of each race realized what had happened and a cry rang out across the lands for justice. Kings and queens and emperors were ignored as the onslaught began. The royals were knocked aside quickly as the final battle commenced.

With one great push, Vermillnyr fell.

It was over.

Or so they thought. A gentle wind blew across the battlefield. As each army breathed in the moist air, they began to tremble.

And in so doing, a world fell.

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 Post subject: Re: #311 Rebirth (5/1/09)
PostPosted: Mon May 04, 2009 7:24 pm 
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Corlen trembled with anticipation. Soon, oh so soon his long wait, his great dark time of seemingly unending pain would be over. Now that he was so close to his goal, Corlen finally found a little energy to spare from his body to muse upon his past. If he'd had any air in his lungs he would have snarled with anger at the thoughts going through his head. To think of all his promise and dreams torn away from him and plunged into an early grave drove him almost mad with rage.

First of all his hatred was aimed at Malaza, the dark lich who's foul magics had torn away his life. True, Corlen and his companions had ventured into Malaza's lair and attacked him, but his depredations upon the villages of the surrounding countryside had left them with little choice.

Second on his list were his companions. Once he fell they had failed to take him back to fair Thilzin, where his sub-priests could have brought him back to life in a matter of weeks. Despite his anger at their failure he could feel a small amount of releif at the fact that the well meaning fools had buried him in a wooden coffin rather than encasing him in some stone sarcophagus. The fact that the wood had eventually rotted away and allowed Corlen access to the earth and the small life giving creatures that lived therein had helped ensure Corlen's survival.

Finally, and most strongly, his hatred was reserved for the gods. Those he had served so long and so faithfully for all his short life. He had been their chosen one. The voice of the gods, the most potent of priests. The gods, being gods, have little understanding and no patience for weakness. And so when he fell they turned their back on him.

All but one. The dark one. The vengeful one. Spurned by all his divine brethren for his darkness, he was nevertheless one of the gods and Corlen was his priest too. And once all the other gods had turned their eyes from Corlen's seeming corpse, the Dark One had started whispering into his mind.

Fifty years, it had taken Corlen to rebuild his shattered body. Fifty years of pain and unrelenting darkness. But now was his time. The ground above his grave bucked and heaved and broke asunder, and the whispers of the Dark God turned to screams of triumph. His herald was reborn! Darker and more powerful than he had ever been in his previous life.

Now the world the gods held so dear would know fear and destruction!


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 Post subject: Re: #311 Rebirth (5/1/09)
PostPosted: Tue May 05, 2009 3:49 pm 
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interesting posts so far... (ya i know this is behind the times but whatever)

---

Freyor opened his eyes. Dry eyelids painfully gave way to blinding light. Grey irises adjusted to the harsh whiteness surrounding them as the pupils adjusted, finally correcting to tiny black dots as Freyor was able to make out shapes around him. Tiny blue, green and purple lights danced in the whiteness surrounding him, leaving Freyor confused and unsure as he looked around. Tentatively reaching out an arm to grab one of the dancing lights, he paused and quickly retracted his arm as he realized his arm was translucent. Looking down, his body appeared as but a smoky see-through imitation of his former self. Alarmed and scared, he twirled around in a panic. His eyes scanned up, down, left and right looking for something, anything, that might make sense. His panic became palpable, and an intense pressure quickly built in his head as the whiteness became a bright shimmering light. Then Nothing.



Pale grey eyes opened as a wail escaped his mouth. A wetness surrounded him, though the feeling was being replaced with a warm dryness.Continuing to cry, he felt himself tipped up then down, as a cacophany of noises assaulted his ears. Finally, a calming deep noise and gentle mild tone combined together as his body felt warm and he quieted down; a drowsy feeling overcoming him. As he drifted off to sleep, he heard the mild tone speak, "I think we'll call him Freyor."


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 Post subject: Re: #311 Rebirth (5/1/09)
PostPosted: Wed May 13, 2009 11:40 pm 
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This is the worst part about being a phoenix.

It starts off almost unnoticed, as a fading desire to sing the Song. Slowly, the song the phoenix has sung its whole life begins to quiet, becoming fainter and fainter until it joins the ruckus of the common birds. Once no longer distinguishable from their warbles, the Song of the phoenix fades faster still, until finally it is so dim you cannot hear it at all.

Then comes the desire to roost. Only when on the ground is the phoenix vulnerable, so when forced to land, it feels trapped and frightened. The phoenix longs to be free; it needs to have the feel of the wind ruffling its feathers as it flies.

Usually. But not now.

Now it longs only for the ground. It is weary after centuries of flight and song, and is eager for a few days rest. It will spend days finding the suitable place for it to nest. Once the perfect aerie has been created, the phoenix will begin to sleep, building up energy for the tribulation to come.

The comes the part of being a phoenix that separates them from all other creatures.

In a burst of spontaneous combustion, a fiery egg will form around the phoenix. The flames will seem to devour it, burning away all the sins and impurities it has witnessed during its years of flight. All that will remain after the fire fades will be the phoenix, once again pure and perfect. Reborn in a strange and mystical way, the phoenix is once again innocent; forgotten are all the misdeeds seen in its past life.

The phoenix will then flap its wings, the first part of another long journey. It still remembers how to fly, for flight with one's own wings is the essence of perfection, and the flight of the phoenix has a unique perfectness to it that no other creature is blessed with; an art formed through centuries of almost constant flight through countless worlds and trials.

Once safely out of the nest, the phoenix will begin its Song. The Song will radiate with feelings of love and hope, aiming to bring about peace and joy.

The first notes a a new era. A song the same as the old one, and so much more.

This is the best part of being a phoenix.

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