<font color=thistle>At the beginning of things nothing was alive for nothing knew movement.

<font color=white>To live is to move.</font>

And the beginning of movement was the sudden and defiant thrusting of a spear that tore open what was at the beginning. And a hand, silent in its movement and great in its strength, seized the fissure made by the spear, widened it and unfurled it like a bolt of tent maker’s cloth. And so it was that the tented heavens were made and he who made them stepped forward and made his home within them, a home silent and vast within which movement was born.

<font color=white>Nothing moves with the freedom of wind.</font>

Wind the freest of all that is free burst into gusting movement within the vast and limitless silence of sky. And the Wind walks where he will for nothing can contain that one whose movement spans all horizons and knows no limits. And after the Wind there came Bright-faced Dawn who brings the sun in his walking, and Black-veiled Night who walks in silence, the sister of Dawn. And in the coming together of Wind and Night, a daughter was born. And the Stormy Daughter of Wind is she whose anger cannot be contained, who arrives in silence and cares not whom she strikes.

<font color=white>For the greatest of winds is the wind of the storm.</font>

And none can contain the vastness of Sky, nor constrain the freedom of Wind, nor control the raging of Storm. Nor shall another god impose his will upon the Great Tented One and his children for they have separated themselves from all others and claimed a people for their own, a harsh and rude people whom they have planted in the barren and windswept places of the world, a people who seize after life and make their home in the free and living air, the place of sun and the place of storm.

<font color=white>For the greatest of lives is the life that will face the storms of the heart.</font>

And there arise from this people those who move with the angry freedom of storm, masters of themselves and yet surrendered to the winds. Stormwalkers they are called in the stiff tongues of the outsiders. Many among them are simply angry, storm-taken from birth and fearsome in their berserk fury in battle. Others range about freely within the power of storm, true children of the wind, warriors of terrible skill and cunning mind.

Some few, however, are silent, silent as the vast and terrible expansiveness of sky. Alone are these even among others. Unrelenting is the war they wage and unhesitating is their pouring out of life. And that one is wise who avoids their company and destroyed who provokes their anger, for nothing shall stay the hand of the silent stormwalker once it has been raised.
- From the Scrolls of the Sky People</font>


<font color=white>Terrakis</font>

<font color=gray>Much can be said in silence and for a long minute neither speaks. The giant smiles. Here at last is an enemy worth destroying and he will fight now not on behalf of his father, the Mage, nor of that terrible Whispering Death which had adopted him and raised him. No. A fight such as this is a battle to be waged for oneself and for no other reason.

“I salute you, man of storms,” he says, “for none ever have stood so long against me in open battle. I shall relish breaking you.”

The man says nothing, remaining silent even here.

The wind increases the speed of its movement and the heavy breathing of the giant is amplified in sound. The wounds he has received have not been grievous, but the labor of battle has been telling upon him - moreso than upon his opponent - and even after this pause his breathing is still rapid and stiffness grows around the cuts in his legs, and one more thing becomes clear. Always he had been the one to grow stronger as the battle wore on, his size and strength and stamina always wearing down the lesser opponent. And were they perhaps in the lightless tunnels of the Underforums, such things would certainly tell in his favor. But here there is ample space for movement beneath a great expanse of sky, and here time will simply lead to his breathing harder. The chill he feels now has little to do with the wind and everything to do with a very simple truth, to gasp for breath against this opponent is to die. Hatred burns in his eyes. This must be finished quickly.

“I WILL BREAK YOU NOW WINDBRINGER!” The defiant shout rings out beneath the open sky.

The Hated says nothing. He simply removes the wooden band from his finger, taking off the ring that restores his health. He speaks, then, the silent stormwalker, a whisper in answer to a shout:

<font color=teal>"So be it.”</font>

The challenge, and the insult, are unmistakable. A berserk fury builds in the gaint. The burns upon the Hated's fingers grow deeper. And the wind begins to gust violently.</font>

[ 02-14-2005, 10:53 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

<font color=steelblue>The Mage saw that the owl was useless, and shrugged. He flicked the card away and it got lost in the all the wind that had suddenly picked up. This brought the Mage's attention back to the battle. It appeared that Terrakis was not doing so well out there.

He decided it was time for some encouragement.

He tried to speak aloud, but the wind stole the voice away even as they left his lips. He was being muted, and could have no communication outside his little front row seat.

He turned back to the owl, and tried to speak again...and was glad to see that he had not been muted completely.

"So I have this friend, who is an owl, by the way...name's Andrion. Maybe I could introduce you to him. He's really a nice guy...once you get to know him. It could be love at first sight, you know. Do you think daddy Cyril would mind if you stepped out later on your own for a few hours?"

The Mage expected no response. Why did Cyril keep this mangy rat-eating thing around, anyway? At least Andrion had a higher intellegence score.

He turned again to the fight in front of him. It had become intense now...and it appeared that Terrakis was ready to unleash that can of whoop-ass that he had been holding back. At least he had better. The Mage had already lost one fool tonight, and did not need another one on the growing list of people that used to work for him, but are now dead or working for the other side. </font>

[ 02-14-2005, 11:43 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

<font color=silver>ooc: Are you sure about that?</font> [img]graemlins/blueblink.gif[/img]

<font color=white>In two places at once ......</font>

<font color=white>The Modding Mage</font>

<font color=teal>The small owl moves its wings and with a smooth movement takes once more to the air. As it passes over the presence it releases a small envelope sealed with a red heart ......</font>

<font color=white>For Larry Silverfall</font>

<font color=teal>The wind is a curious thing and at times its movement seems to speak, and today, it would seem, there are words to be found within the warm breath of evening that gathers around a certain young man’s ears .......</font>

<font color=silver>The contents of the envelope and the words upon the wind are the same......</font>

<font color=pink>For Her Beloved
Smile of peace and boyish charm
Bumbling ranger used to farm
Carefree air of innocence
Breaks down walls, draws close distance

Risks his life to save loved one
Battle with foes just begun
Life and death draw two hearts close
Seed of love now slowly grows

Path is strewn with obstacle
Against odds they thus struggle
Fighting hard, hope is regained
Love and friendship still maintained

Stronger bonds that bind them now
Before threats they will not bow
Shower blessings on us all
Thus prays Mistral Silverfall</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: Another blast from the past. This Valentine's Day greeting was originally posted here.</font>

[ 02-15-2005, 12:02 AM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]

<font color=steelblue>The Mage grabbed at the card and opened it up. After reading the words written there-upon, he became confused. What was this that the owl had thrown at him? He knew that Larry had once had a wife named Mistral that was now dead...which brought about the dark change in Larry's heart all those years ago...but what had that to do with here and now?

The mage crumbled the piece of paper up and tossed it to the winds.</font>

-------------------------------------------------

<font color=aqua>Larry

He stood on his own feet and stopped trembling for the feeling of that cold shadowy grave had passed. They were now home, sorta. His head hurt nicely and he feared that he would have a permanent scarring on his forehead after running into a wall of iron. What had happended back there?

He rubbed at his forehead, but there was no mark. Suddenly, a breeze of cool night air came passing by, carrying the promise of flowers close by and the foretelling of rain in the distance. Larry closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, cleansing the stale air of the Shadow Plane out of his mind and lungs. Just then, another blessing presented itself. In fact, it was more than just a mere blessing...for the sweet words of his wife chased the breeze as it played about in the place where he stood. She ran around him, whispering words spoken years ago, telling him of her love for him. No longer did he remember the ache in his head and no longer was he sad. Indeed, she had sent him a kiss that revitalized him and made him whole again. It was as refreshing as it had been in life. He opened his eyes, and found a stranger to be there.

Oh yeah...the guy that saved us...

"Welcome to Ironworks, stranger! My name is Larry Silverfall, and you have entered the plane of existance in the Internet Galaxy where we find a home. Thank you for saving us back there. You must be an accomplished mage of some great power to have found us there in the shadows. How did you do it?"</font>

<font color=peru>Anarrima 67/67

She had just finished asking Yevaud about how to get into the castle when suddenly the tallest tower of the castle collapsed, sending people running and dust billowing into the air. The boom of the fall of stone to the earth shook everyone present. Ana had no idea what had happened, but was determined to find out. If this was why she was here...then it was time to get to work.

Deciding to ignore the barred door, she ran to the area where the collapse had occurred. She could see in the clearing air the base of the structure still standing...a staircase protruding from the stone like a skeletal corpse.

Outside, there were many people...humans. They were running about searching through the rubble, possibly for survivors. They did not seem upset, nor in a particular hurry. It was a strange feeling. This was an intentional collapse....but for what reason did it serve? Had anyone been inside that tower when it fell? What was she and this bladesinger supposed to do here?</font>

<font color=white>Three little guards

The three guards that had been doing their job as instructed inside the base of the tower now had no further reason to stay around. They had been brave enough to do what they were supposed to here until the collapse had occurred. Even after the attack by the werecat, the end result was what had been hoped for, though they lamented the loss of their brethren at the cost of war.

The three men ran down the staircase as fast as they could go, but immediately encountered an elf. They stopped him as he was racing up the stairs.

"Wait! Go back down! There is nothing up there 'cept open sky. The tower has fallen! This structure is not stable!"

They continued running down the stairs to get to firm ground. </font>


OOC>>>That's Silt here.

Kynnen is still on the first level of these four staircase levels and has not come into view yet.

[ 02-15-2005, 02:18 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

<font color=green>Andrion Wilgor aka "the shadow owl" 5/5

Flying through the garden and then circling to gain altitude Andrion surveyed the area. Two elves stood at the locked gates of the castle. Andrion had no idea what they were doing there, but since they could not get in, for the moment he disregarded them. He headed towards the tower which now he could see had nearly totally collapsed. Yet amid the pile of rubble on top of the ruins a strange shape caught Andrion's attention. </font>

[ 02-15-2005, 02:52 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

<font color=peru>Anarrima

The elven cleric looked about at all the destruction brought about by this fallen tower, and found it hopeless that anyone that might have been in that fall would have survived. She saw an owl circling about in the air, seemingly interested in the whole matter as well. Odd behavior for an owl, she thought.

Ana could do nothing but watch as the humans searched the piles of rock for any victims, and each time they overturned a boulder or some such pile of stone...a worried or bothered look came about their faces.

Ana could not bare the curiosity any longer. She walked up to the nearest human and asked,

"Sir...for whom do you seek amongst this tragedy? Or for what?"</font>

Post eaten by the corrupted ley lines...........

[ 02-16-2005, 01:36 AM: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]

<font color=skyblue>She smiles sadly, looking down at the young man, and a single silver tear rolls down her cheek as she kneels down, removing certain items from her pack...

"Fly straight as an arrow that way,"she points a gloved finger in the direction for him to seek..."You will know the spot when you come to it.. but you must hurry... be swift my owl, be swift..."

She turns her attention to the items she is pulling from her pack, her mind already turned inward, looking up the spells she will need for this battle...</font>