Our story begins on a late spring morning. The Sun shone bright over the hills of the Kingdom. Peace ruled the land, the people were happy and no care flutterred its gray wing under the deep blue sky. The streets were paved in white stone, the trees shone back green spikes of light towards the high, slender windows of the City, and the Tower of Susru lifted its proud brow high under the clouds, on the southern hill. Upon its highest pinnacle lay the Blazing Shrine that had been recovered by the valiant Knight of the Old from Heathen God Isoloch twelve centuries ago. The Blaze ever shone there, and no darkness could creep in the corners of the Pinnacle.

Halcyon the IIIrd, High Keeper of the Lore, spread the wisdom from the uppermost level beneath the Shrine. The halls and stairways of the Tower were filled with his servants, Fathers and Learners of the old Lore of Acitamotua, the forsaken land of our ancestors. His cloak was shining in miriad glimmers the purple brightness of the dawn and the golden light of the Sun. His frame was old, as old as the City itself, the day that brought the Shrine back to us also gave birth to him. His eyes were heavy with the knowledge of the twelve centuries passed since. His hand was heavy, yet only lightly touched the heads of the servants when he passed the streets of the city each seventh morning. His power was the Word, and it never failed him. When he spoke, all anger died, all will was bent to his, and no enemy could stand against.

His daughter, Lilith by her name, was conceived and born under the Starlight and adorned with all its beauty. No girl in the Kingdom shone like she did under the candles of the Tower Halls, when the night was bright with moonlight. None were allowed to see her, none were allowed to feel her scent, none to sip the rays of her eyes. She was guarded by an enchanted elite Guard of the Knights, seeing only her misty shape as she passed, hearing only the hiss of the wind as she spoke.

The Knights of the Order, Defenders of the Shrine walked the border forests and watched the far away plains, as they always did. Their swords were broad, and their heart stout. I, E.B.E., am one of them. My father was one also, and I carry forth the Allegiance. The Seventh Sword was given to my family long ago, and my resting place is in the Seventh Hall under the Walls of the City. From my abode, I sometimes see the candle in Lady's Lilith room, and on moonlit nights I watch her as she blows its light away and comes to the window to bathe in the rays of the Moon.

So, thee Knights, Travelers, Peasants, Fathers and Learners of the Lore, who have ever passed the borders of our Kingdom, tell thy stories here. And thee who have not, come walk the white streets of our City.

The Order of the Blazing Shrine awaits thy tales.

Acest thread isi doreste sa fie un Role Playing Story. Voi, Knights, Peasants, Travellers, Learners and Fathers of the Lore, sau orice vreti sa fiti voi, cititi ce s-a scris pana la voi, si continuati povestea. Altii continua sau revin la randul lor, cu urmari. Fiecare este obligat sa tina cont de ce s-a intamplat in poveste inaintea lui. Povestea trebuie sa curga. Nu pot aparea hiatusuri nejustificate. Limba engleza nu este necesara, se permit atat engleza cat si romana. Va fi insa nevoie de engleza pentru intelegerea threadului. PS: Se acorda un premiu substantial :-P cui ghiceste unde anume este situata povestea noastra in lumea reala, si ce semnifica locurile din ea. Incercarile de raspuns nu se vor posta insa pe thread, ci se vor trimite prin PM mie sau lui halcyon_lll.

Propun un mecanism de "locking" al threadului. Adica, daca mai multa lume se apuca sa scrie continuari in acelasi timp, si scrierea lor dureaza multa vreme, si apoi toti adauga replica, povestea se ramifica fara
voie. Asa ca fiecare, cand doreste sa posteze o continuare, va scrie acest lucru intr-un mesaj si va posta continuarea prin editare. In acest fel se asigura unicitatea liniei povestii. Daca reply-ul nu este editat intr-un interval de o ora de la postarea mesajului prin care se anunta continuarea, altcineva poate prelua stafeta.

"I am old. I am so old that i can't remember." His eyes were looking at the blue sky, watching the sun as it rises. "But time is running. This beloved city is going to meet his destiny, and i am watching it die. The prophecy is going to happen." Awfull thoughts, awfull dreams, awfull future. He leaned his head over his hand. "But i will fight ... I am the Keeper of the Lore and I must protect thy with my own life..." With a slight move of his hand, he made the throne move by itself through the room. He smiled. "My powers are still with me, but i am getting weaker."

His chamber is a small imitation of universe. The floor is the ocean, the vial of life and up above is the sky, mastered by the sun itself. The chamber has only one window, always opened. The walls are full of bookselves, all dusty and very old. It is believed that Halcyon's ancestors were the founders of magic by word. On the nothern side lies a table, full of mystrious potions, dragon teeth, werewolf hair, faerie wings and all sorts of mystical dusts. Next to the table is Melodia, Halcyons' pet. Melodia is a very weird animal with a body of an owl and a head of a faerie. Melodia used to be a faerie, but she was cursed by a mean wizard to live eternally as an owl. Then she was found by Halcyon who agreed to help her into giving her back a faerie appearance. But something went wrong. At that time, Halcyon was unexperienced and the spell couldn't bring back the faerie. Instead, she changed into this hideous creature. Full of remorse, Halcyon sweared he would always take care of Melodia and since then they had never been appart.

"Good morning, father!". This bright voice separated Halcyon and his thoughts. It was Lilith, his dear beloved daughter. " Ah, Lilith, what a pleasant surprise. Why are you up so early?" but Halcyon couldn't look into her bright eyes. "Father, what is wrong. What is troubling you ... ". " Nevermind Lilith ... don't let my thoughts spoil your day." Lilith went as slowly as she came. She was followed by a cat, Tristan, who used to be a brave hunter, but that's another story. Nobody knows who's Liliths' mother. The elders say that Lilith was conceived by Halcyon with Sirenia, a mermaid, daughter of Oceanus god of all water, without the consent of Oceanus. When he found out what they did, he was so angry that he turned his daughter into a dolphin and cursed Halcyon to live forever and never meet his loveone. The spells were so powerful that even now, when he reached full wisdom, Halcyon can't turn Sirenia back into human shape. But nobody knows for certain if this really happened ...

Acest topic a fost editat de halcyon_lll: 24 Apr 2004, 03:23 PM

As the girl left the chamber, Halcyon`s mind fell again under the burden of his dark thoughts. He gazed upon the window and saw the people of the City walking carefree and serene on the white paved streets. They could not conceive the Evil that was drawing near. And how could have they, when for ages tranquillity ruled upon the City? Still, the prophecy was to be fulfilled, and this was to happen soon.
It was the seventh day, and he had to walk the streets at dawn , for every servant and disciple to hear his Word. By no means could he let them see his worries.
?What should I do, my dear friend?, he asked Melodia, while pouring himself a goblet of the Nectar of the Tower of Susru.
Not only it was his pet, but also a trustworthy friend and counsellor in times of need.
The grotesque creature raised its head, and spoke in the language of fairies:
?We both know you will not be able to handle the Evil all by yourself. You must summon your old allies, tonight, at the Sacred Fire of Kcordrah, and tell them all about the prophecy. I have been having these dreadful visions lately, and we are all going to go through harsh times. You must also tell your daughter, Lilith, for she has inherited your powers.?
The voice of Melodia had the gift of making people forget their worries. This did not affect Halcyon, as the powers of a fairy could not touch him, still, his face seemed somehow lightened.
?I will, my friend??
The short silence was shattered by Lilith`s voice.
?Hurry up, father! It`s time you left for the Seventh`s Day Procession!??

As the last star of morning died in the waxing sunrise, a dove lifted its wings and soared off the northern edge of the Pinnacle. As it flew away in the still morning, the City ran behind beneath its eyes: the White Way undulating downhill, the trees of the EverGardens, still hidden in blackness, the Halls of Smaller Lores, the Golden River, gray in the greyer dawn, and finally, the Walls of the City. Forest lay unscathed beyond. But the dove sped its flight, and trees after trees ran uphill and fell downhill in silence, one hill after another, seemingly neverending.

Yet after a while a deeper and darker valley appeared beyond the brim of a hill. The bird did not dare fly above it, but from an unfathomed, deep fear turned right and dissapeared into the ring of mist encircling the valley. For many generations did the People of the Kingdom not hear its frightful name but in the legends of the Old... For it was here that the Heathen God had hidden the Shrine and quenched its blaze under a flow of evil, black water. This was the place our people departed seeking for, from the motherland of Acitamotua, thirteen centuries ago. It was the evil Valley of Naedurbah, the ancient Principle of Evil, home to the now withered Heathen God Isoloch...

Tangled trees lived a forsaken life there, their boughs entwined in an evil embrace, tall above the ground, not letting any ray of sun pass through. All below the land was rotten; slimy things with many feet, and others with reeking, spiked teeth, sought the bodies of animals passed into the Valley from the hills beyond, for none that crossed its bounds ever saw the light of day again, poisoned by the mist hanging beneath the putrid forest eaves. Evil spells roamed about, and the dark magic was free in this land. But it was asleep.

Or at least, it had been. For three nights ago, the star of Naedurbah, marking the horn of Demon's Constellation, shone an evil ray of unlight straight through a red Moon over the forests directly into the heart of the Valley, as it does once every thirteen times one hundred years. Thus, three nights ago the Day of the Darkrise that the Prophecy foresaw had come. And at the center of the valley, at the point the mists wound about, where even the tallest trees, unseeing of the somewhat paler light, had lost their leaves, Evil was now stirring. A large platform of rot lay encircled in black tree trunks, almost black itself. But now it was breathing. Its middle was rising and falling slowly, spreading a hissing sound, and a yellow fog escaped from small cracks, lifting vertically in the still air through the entwined forest boughs above.

And it was this foul fog, carried by the winds far above under the clouds, that had reached the Walls of the City, had passed the unknowing BorderKnights, and had reached the Halls of the Tower where the Keeper walked. It was this fog that poisoned his dreams, that warned him of the coming of the old prophecy.

And Melodia was right. By no means could the evil, still half asleep, be bent by only the power of the Keeper's Word. All the Power of Light must be gathered to face the Darkness when it awakes. And the fire of Kcordrah must be lit for the summoning to begin. But alas! none remembered the words of the incantation that can ignite the magic fire... for it was twenty-six centuries ago when it had last been used, in forgotten times... And the only place where the words were written even back then was on the seventh step of the Temple of Acitamotua. Who knows now even if the temple still stood on its old roots?

Nevertheless, an expedition of valiant men must be mustered, and the Quest for the Sixteen Words of the Incantation must begin as soon as possible. This was the sad news the Keeper Halcyon has to make his servants learn of on his Seventh Day Procession, and a sad look hides in his eyes as he descends the steps of the Tower into the White Square...

Acest topic a fost editat de E.B.E.: 24 Apr 2004, 07:29 PM

He looked at the sky and saw the sun shining brightly above. ?I am late?, he said to himself. The people of the City were long since on the streets, awaiting for his Word to quench their thirsty spirits.
Meanwhile, the beautiful lady Lilith, who also felt the unrest in the air, decided it was the perfect time to find some answers. She went into her father`s chamber, hoping his Old Books of Forgotten Lore would enlight her. With a few whispered words she put Melodia to sleep, and began rummaging through the books: spells, witchcrafts, sorceries, curses, necromancy and all sorts of Occult Knowledge and Mysticism. Still, it wasn`t what she was looking for.
One dark corner of the room suddenly drew her attention. A small ebony table, all filthy and dusty, with nothing on it except for an old broken magic wand. How come she had never noticed that table? She had learned every single spot in the room since her father began sharing his Knowledge to her. Moreover, what was her father doing with a magic wand? A wooden stick, with less power than she had in her small finger. For a man who could move the world with a single word, what good could a magic wand do?
She approached the table and picked the wand. Suddenly the floor became unstable, the ocean began to stir into a large vortex, the sky on the ceiling turned dimmer and dimmer, and the sun vanished in an instant. Not losing her senses, the girl closed her eyes and began whispering an incantation.
When she felt the tempest had stopped, she opened her eyes and realised she was no longer in her father`s chamber. The crimson painted walls, the strange letters written on them, the dulcet sound coming from far below?Bewildered and weak, she lay on the floor, allowing her eyes to see the golden letters carved in the ceiling. The words were in the Old Language of Acitamotua, which she could not yet fully decipher. Still, the name of the City, along with the words ?prophecy? and ?evil? were enough to strenghten her forebodings.
She could not tell for how long she had been there, but decided to return. When trying to rise, a sweet torpor conquered her body, her limbs became all heavy and weary, and her eyes so hazy that she could no longer see the words on the walls.


The sound of the crowd cheering The Great Halcyon on the streets woke her up. Did she dream? Was it a vision? The only certainty was that she had passed out for less than one minute, and the ebony table was no longer in the corner?

juma de poveste calare pe juma de topic schiop?

Nu chiar, nu chiar... aveti putintica rabdare, sa aiba si omu' timp

Mai pe seara, mai pe noapte... povestea nu s-a terminat, nici pe departe... de-abia acum incepe

As Halcyon returned to the library, he could see the rays of the sun falling in broken golden patches on the stone floor, and here and there the stranger bluish hues of the Shrine burning brightly at the level above. Yet there was something else in the air, a scent he could barely remember, coming from the eldest layers his deep memory well... something had happenned here... he didn't know what precisely, but the certainty of it hung in the air...

And then it struck him: the Old Magic! There were traces of the Old Magic at work in the room! The memories started coming back, colour, sound, scent, back from the time he was still young and only learning the Word... This was the magic the Fathers had used then, twelve centuries ago, as they spoke the Old Tongue of Acitamotua, now twisted, changed, and forgotten...

As soon as the memories stopped flooding his senses, worry took their place. The Old Magic was a powerful thing, and noone but himself, his daugther and the Enchanted Guard had access to these areas of the Tower. And his daughter was in the room when he left for the Seventh Day Procession! He headed in fast pace across the room, through a stone hall dimly lit by torches on the wall, into Lilith's chambers. His daughter was laying in bed, eyes closed, somehow tired and wane.

"What has happenned, Lilith?" he asked in his deep voice.

"Nothing, father. What is wrong?" she sad, starting from the bed. Her eyes had a ghostly dark glimmer that Halcyon recognized in an instant.

"You have encountered the Old Magic, girl! I can see it lingering in your frame and soul! What have you done? Tell me!"

And she wanted to tell, but something was holding the words back at the bottom of her throat. She could not spell them outwards, instead she said almost unwillingly:

"Nothing has happenned! I do not understand why you are speaking like this to me."

"Do not make me use the Word, Lilith", he spoke in a soft, soothing voice. "You know you will speak then. I do not want to force you, but I will if I must. I am the last who knows the Old Magic in our times, or so I believed. I know no remains of it in our world. I have to find out."

But she shook her head, suffering in her eyes.

"SPEAK, GIRL!" Halcyon boomed, and the walls seemed to vibrate, uncertain of their shape; the light faded and lost its hue, everything turned a sad, ash color. Then in a moment all was normal again. But the spell ripped fiercely into his daughter's will and she started mumbling:

"There was a... table... wand... fiery letters... i don't know... where, when... lost"

"Easy now, Lilith..." and he caressed her hair, sitting her on the edge of the bed, and himself near. "Easy. Tell me, what did you see?"

After in an end she was at peace and the story told, Halcyon raised and started walking slowly around the alcove, speaking more to himself than to the girl:

"It was the Prophecy that you saw... I don't know by what means, but you saw the Prophecy, in full, on the walls of the Hidden Cave. I do not have knowledge of the place of this cave, some said while I was still a boy that it doesn't lay in this world, but somewhere in between it and the Neverworld that steals our mortal souls when we die... Few even know of the Prophecy nowadays, even fewer of the place where it was first written, ages ago..." He came swiftly back to her and took her shoulders, looking fixedly into her eyes with all the power of his. Yet she was his daughter and her gaze did not bend.

"Do you realize what this means, Lilith? We do not have the full text of the Prophecy, what little we have only tells in twisted words of the doom that will befall us, but doesn't say anything of the way it could be defeated, of its weakness, of our strength against it. I have to go where you were somehow, I know the Old Tongue and I will read the crimson letters. But how to do that?
"Come, back to the library, there are traces of the magic there, we have to find something. I will Read you also, when you will be less shaken by all this. Come now..."

And they passed back into the dim hall beyond the heavy wooden door.


***


Word came to me by runner in the evening of the same day. I was to leave my post at the Souther Border and come back to the City at once. An expedition was being summonned and I were to be part of it.

The grass died some distance below the rim of the hill marking the boundary of Naedurbah Valley. The light reached here, but it was weakened by the fog swaying sluggishly above, and the stench of the rotten forest insinuated itself in the still air, penetrating the earth, clinging to the surface of the rocks scatterred over the slope, bewildering the senses of animals that dared come this close, fuzzying their brain and luring them into the evil forest, food to its children. No sound dared ripple the frozen air.

Upon a cold morning, for the first time after centuries, a creature came out of the black forest, and lay its seemingly weary, hesitating steps over the barren stretch of land beyond the hilltop, heading towards the green thickets in the valley below. It was a man, enswathed in a black cloak, hiding his frame, with a large hood falling over his eyes and letting only his lower face touched by the hazy light. His chin was withered and old, his mouth thin, dry and wrinkled, and its corners drawn down. Yet while his steps were uncertain, his frame stood tall, straight and bold, and the hand gripped tight and firm the middle of a black wooden staff, polished at its upper end. So it was that his true age was rather hidden than revealed by these confusing signs.

He walked in his hesitating pace down into the grass. There he stopped and lifted his head, watching the hilltops swaying and crowding one into the other towards the horizon, towards the Kingdom of Obs. And it was this gaze that spread forth the terror: as he lifted his head, the light coming straight into his face from the raising sun should have penetrated under the hood and revealed his face. But there was nothing to reveal! The rippled, old skin ended with a curled nose, and above blackness reigned. No eyes, no forehead, no cheeks. The light was sucked in and died there, and no glimmer ever came back.

A devilish smile, cold as ice, bloomed on his lips. And then he was gone. His cloak rippled without wind, turned a silver, glimmering hue, and disappeared taking his shape along. A path crossing the slope from the place where he had stood towards the edge of the thicket below shaked wildly the blades of grass, and made the air hiss with the swiftness of the shadow's passing.

The Scout was on the move.


***


Halcyon walked with slow steps through the library, speaking softly words of an eerie tongue. The spell filled the air, touched the walls, caressed the leathered bindings of the books, insinuated slowly between the floor's stones. Under its power, everything vibrated as it did before in Lilith's chambers, losing the firmness of the shape. The ways the things were now interweaved with the ways things were, and with the ways things were perhaps going to be. Scents of the past mixed with hints of the future. And the Keeper Read. He read the sudden disappearance of his daughter, he read the strangeness all the things around had lived before that, he read Lilith's return, he felt the traces of the Magic all throughout the time that he covered. But he read nothing worth of attention.

Until he reached the corner near the southern window. There he felt the Magic growing thick. He discarded all else and spoke the enchanted words into that corner, pulling the image from the ripples of time, fixating it into the workings of Now. Yes, there was a table there, as his daugher had said. And a wand. The spell reached for the wand with melodious words, drew closer, embraced soothingly its broken pieces. And then it was thrown back! The spell of Halcyon did not penetrate the charmed wood of the wand. Shocked, he stopped speaking, and the world around, uncertain for a moment still, swiftly returned to its everyday aspect. He had felt a kind of magic that his Lore did not speak of, that his Power did not reach. Older than the Incantations of the Old Tongue of Acitamotua, stronger than them, thicker in meaning, yet unreachable to him.

And his worries grew stronger. He headed back towards Lilith's sleeping room, where his daugher was still lying in bed, sung to sleep by Melodia the twisted fairy. He seated himself in a chair nearby, chin in a cupped palm, and let himself drift in thinking while watching the slow raise and fall of Lilith's chest and her serene, beautiful face shining with the inner light of the dreams Melodia was chanting into her weary mind.

[ ... large chunk of manuscript torn out, remaining rims unreadable ... ]

Lilith was dreaming. Orange and reddish hues, swirling yellow clouds on purple skies with eerie surface... but slowly they all melted away, and turned to darkness...

And then she felt no more as dreaming; as the cold wind seemed real around her, and its icy tongue was rasping painfully on her waking senses; and the whisps of gray cloud turned silverish when passing over the full moon, and she saw this with a clear, fixed waking eye.

Ghostly lightrays descended in silence from the far away sky onto the ruined sepulchral monuments, and reflections shone here and there on white or black marble, untouched by time, ruin or evil deed. Black was the forest around, and the tree branches were claws in their autumn nakedness, eating away strips of stars, glimmering strangely, maybe calling, maybe warning... But the graveyard was free of the claws, as it climbed and circled a slow-steeping hill, and only two tall trees, empty branches pointing upwards into the sky, marked the path towards the hilltop, onto which Lilith's bare feet were stepping.

Something was calling here up that path, some voice hidden within the hissing of the wind, that she could rather feel than hear... And it wasn't callling her by her name... or was it her name? Mary... Mary..... the withered blades of grass whispered rasping against each other... Come, Mary... called the wind twisting around her feet, freezing her breath, licking her body under her gowns... And she didn't know whether she had been walking forever up the path, or she had just started... or whether her name had always been Mary, or she had been named that by the whispering, inveigling wind...

As she turned with the twists of the road, the silver rays of the moon were slowly being swallowed by more and more clouds passing swifter and swifter over its swollen, evil eye... and the hue of the remaining light change to a putrid yellow. The road twisted on the hillside, white and black marble, twisted, tilted crosses all around, and suddenly, as all sound died, she stepped onto a flat plateau: the hilltop. A tall tower was ominously looming at the far side, and called her near with unheard voice in the dead silence. All the hilltop lay under its shadow, as the moon hid behind; sleeping shreds of ivy clang to its walls, and its once proud steeple was now broken at the top, where the cross had been...

As she drew closer, the shadow conquered all around and she was staring into pitch black on the backround of gray clouds hasting at crazy speeds into the west. And as she touched the first step of the invisible front stair, suddenly, without warning, the lightning stroke. It was so close that there was no delay for the booming, crashing sound ripping the silence apart to follow the light wave enswathing everything in its white, crude blow. And she saw It, hanging by one hand from a round window in the spire, cape flowing on the wind, slim, pale, lean body, evil dark eyes. And in that short moment that the lightning shone, Its narrow lips had time to slowly curl up into a mean smile, cold as death and messenger of it, too.

For as the light died away, she knew It had jumped. And before she felt Its cold, yet searing lips on her neck, she knew she would die. Thin sharp fangs broke through the delicate skin and blood started flowing into Its mouth, and she heard the ugly, twisting sound of Its sipping and swallowing...

And as the Final Darkness crawled upon her and the flickering in her eyes faded together with her, she could hear one last whisper, circling around the two bodies clutched together in the dance of life over death: creek Mary's blood.....