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Topic: The Return of Yana
Subject: yep yep
It does help and thanks! Also didn't realize some of my drawing links were messed up. Fixed those. I am doodling as I can. I move into my new place this weekend, which means scanning!
Posted on 2009-09-22 at 07:04:32.
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Topic: The Return of Yana
Subject: Drefast
Muah!
Also hmm, Almerin is your q/a the Local Legend game? Do you have a particular page or link for me to look over of some specifics you added or fleshed out for the city? I am VERY early in the drawing. And the drawing is not so much a top down street view, but something from a distance. <.< Also I may be making this too grand, but I was itching to try something!
Posted on 2009-09-19 at 14:26:19.
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Topic: The Return of Yana
Subject: d'awww
You are the best! And happy to be back. Even an extra hug to Grugg.
And since Olan knows but you don't (muhahah), I am working on a couple fun surprises. *rubs hands together*
Drawings of...
Audalis Paladins (was in the works, tinkering on it)
Elves in Plate ("we don't hug trees, we crush you with them")
Drefast (though, I can't find anything on the place beyond a PM saying it's a city with a big bridge over a gorge!)
random npcs...including one amazing dwarf bard!
((and some document on Sendria...yeah yeah I know...))
*settles into her chair, a bag spilling over with maps* I'm ready!
Posted on 2009-09-19 at 02:00:21.
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Topic: The Return of Yana
Subject: smacky sticks
Mmmmm whompin' sticks. I dunno...I think I can add that to my arsenal of frilly ankle socks, roller skates, and the red velvet devil horns. In fact, I should draw that! For ol' times sake...
Thanks! It's insanely good to be typing, drawing, and writing again. <3
Posted on 2009-09-17 at 16:07:56.
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Topic: The Return of Yana
Subject: Yes Olan..you did...
Yes yes...you did tell me so! I'm not working in the game place in the art department, but hope to work my way into it in some way. BUT...I get to share with the art guys, rub elbows a little, and all that.
Thanks, Olan. It has been rough, and it's been killing me not to be able to post all this time. ALSO, the comics are stellar! Reading them all...they rule!
Posted on 2009-09-17 at 15:53:37.
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Topic: The Return of Yana
Subject: good lord in the morning
So...skip this tid bit, it's kinda depressing:
--------- depressing, skip if you want -----------------
I am no longer homeless. Few months ago, I hit the lowest of lows. No job, then no internet, phones yoink, and then no home. Sleeping in a car/storage place is not fun. Thankfully, I got in touch with some family, and we all made amends. (rocky kinda relationship with them 180ed)
After MANY month scrimping, searching, practically begging, and selling some of my junk on ebay, I made it through. I move into my own place in a week. Have a job. And work for a game company. You have no idea what a roller coaster this has been.
----------- Ok end of the sad stuff! ----------------
Yay stuff: working for a game company! Can't say which, but it means I can create again! SO HAPPY!
This means I can POST again. WRITE again. DRAW. And that's pretty much what I did with all that time. In celebration...some art...and soon some writing.
And most of all...be with you all, my friends that I have missed more than my drawing fingers.
Angerboda, viking like lady
Tainted Mystic
Lord of Frost (undead)
Anger not the dwarf...
Secret Lairs
Lilifred, gnomish, halflingish wench of doom
The Death Knight
The Tezzy Monster
 Enjoy
Posted on 2009-09-17 at 15:47:19.
Edited on 2009-09-22 at 07:03:22 by Yanamari
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Topic: The Return of Yana
Subject: Muchos nachos!
Thanks folks! I hope to be here for a long long time. Just had life toss me around like a salad in a roller coaster or something like that...
More art soon! And paintings of the Audalis maps I drew ages ago. If there should be changes, lemme know Olan and crew!
Posted on 2009-04-21 at 18:36:13.
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Topic: The Return of Yana
Subject: The Return of Yana
It has been years. But thanks to some very close friends here, finally getting back on my feet. And so, in true Yana tradition...some new doodles.
Stories, Audalis stuffs, and more to come! So good...to be back...
Kaishia the warrior
Rakaa the shaman
Yarane the warlock
Peace, love, and red velvet horns,
Yana
Posted on 2009-04-21 at 16:28:54.
Edited on 2009-04-21 at 16:30:02 by Yanamari
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Topic: Art of Yanamari
Subject: Siol, final
Case: 243
Patient: Siol
Illness: damned looney
I keep sending her away. She keeps coming back. Have to ween her off the blue ones, too addictive. Seen it before, but not like this. The elf gets nothing from it, just pops the damn pills, keeps getting the shakes. Damn elves, no idea what this does to the system, or symptoms to watch for. But she started talking. I'm a doctor, not a priest or bartender. I wish she'd go away.
~ patient notes from the medical journals of Dr. Olivia Thurston, Medivac four, Hyjal
One moment, she felt warm, cozy and safe. Images of wandering a house, the scents of cooking, the smiles of friends roamed her thoughts. The next, she felt cold and bent painfully. Something dug into her back, seeking her spleen. The world exploded in stars as her eyes cracked open.
Siol had run off. Again.
"Mystic threads of...ow...nature come...gah...and grant my damn head peace." The green gold glow filled her hands, sharp and strange. The pain subsided, but could not leave Sauno. The spell never worked right when she cursed. "Unholy fel, I can't believe I let her get away." Gingerly, she sought the spot behind her head where the huntress clunked her. "What did she smack me with? I don't recall a rock or stick."
Rising from the dust, clarity returned as blood flowed naturally again. Running fingers from her temples to her cheeks, Sauno stared into the distance. "She called me..." Flesh gave way to fur in the quickness of a falling star. Paws dug into the rubble and parched ground, following the remnants of demonic chains, binding remaining from their journeys back to the abyss that spawned them. Without the trail, she would never find Siol.
Deeper the twists and turns took her, causing hackles to rise of their own accord. The air here remained hushed, waiting. The way of the dead had always remained shut. The druid could only hope Siol had not found the key.
* * *
The pillars stood against the darkened past, a testament to the travesty that had visited, considered the gorge a nice place to stay, and thus made a home. Siol ran her gloved hands over the worn ridges of sigils. Histories painfully documented since the fall, to teach, to provide. Here, the battles that flared in cities. The line of words followed by accounts of burning skies and forests awakening in a strange, unforgiving way. The Kaldorei had lifetimes of guilt and trespass to atone for.
Yet in the next phrase, that would speak of the sundered nights, a thick nail had been driven deeply. Chains tattered and twisted snaked from it. The weight of metal links dreadfully strong. What once was bound had broken away as a wild cat from a tangle of yarn. Simple. Powerful. Yet the other thoughts crawling through her head, the lessons learned in Nagrand, spoke otherwise.
"Even the damned use their own in dark vigil and ceremony. Evil consumes itself. It knows itself." Tapping the nail with her gun, a sudden feeling prickled her skull. Twisting, she fired a round. Keenly had he grasped the barrel and turned it away before the mark was made.
His eyes bore into hers, harder than she could ever hope to be herself. Braids of pale green wrapped tightly about each other, forming knots, much like the etching into his armor. "Moon." Did her voice waver?
"Leaf." He needed to say nothing more. Tones and meaning laid in his stance, her nickname among them, the way he glowered.
"I should know better. But damn, I need to see it for myself." She tried to pull the gun back, knowing the heat of it must sear his hand. Siol may as well have been trying to tickle an ogre for the purchase she made.
He nodded.
"But the way is shut. Always has been. Does that mean I shouldn't try?" She did not watch him. She felt the nod.
A growl threatened, roiling in her gut. She hated knowing they were all right. And she was the idiot fighting still for no good reason.
"Do you ever return to your true home? Stand among the pillars and archways? Dream of seeing your mother and father in toil as you went about duties?"
Color drained from her face. She breathed thanks for having her helm on. "No."
"This is no different. He would be upset to find you here."
Huffing, Siol relented. For a moment, Moon seemed shocked. His left eyebrow moving ever so slightly.
"I don't have any more wars. The Circle hasn't needed me for a time. Many come to their aid. Darnassus has dozens rising to aid. For once, I don't know what to do."
"Do nothing."
They stared at each other for a time. Slow grins etched along their faces.
Gravel and bones skittered at their feet as a barreling ball of fur arrived. Leaping from paws to feet, Sauno faced the elders. Hands found her hips, anger swam in her eyes, and indignate seemed appropriate for describing her mood.
They just stood there before Sauno, grinning, hanging out like a couple kids around the pools of Astranaar.
"What took you so long? We're leaving."
In unison, they snatched up glow stones to travel away. Sauno simply looked rooted to the spot, ears dropping in confusion. As they disappeared, she just snorted. "Return. Seek. Leave. Come along. What am I? Their servant? GAH!"
And so that's when I decided to return. Not so glorious, but well enough. Perhaps you have some things needing tending? Books lost or scrolls to track down? Just, no more furbolgs. I've had enough of those wars to fill two lifetimes.
Did you hear, Larion? The draenei have been digging and researching Forestsong. Seems they are felbent on rebuilding the place. I wonder what they'll find.
You destroyed those letters..didn't you?
~ Letter from Siol the Leaf to Larion of Darnassus
Posted on 2008-02-14 at 18:15:31.
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Topic: Art of Yanamari
Subject: Siol, continued
What can be said of our elders? They have seen the turning of the seasons and years as a string of events without numbers or scripted dates. Mother always forgot. Everything. Something specific, like a smell or area could dredge up something in her noggin when I was young. But these days, I fear speaking with her. Not so much forgetting as remembering. Perhaps I should have left her to the dark of not knowing. I can be such a fool. ~ torn page bound with others, found in Forest Song's rubble by Draenei salvage team
The war of snow and stone remained eternal. Despite the wetness of flake, or age of rock, the path ever southward would not be lost. Some magic remained from ages long lost to keep it this way. And yet, change made its mark as only the tips of broken arches and buildings could be discerned from the deeper drifts. As if the land hungered...or the legacy of Kaldorei simply wished to disappear form the landscape.
The world tired from the toil of existence.
Bounding through the drifts, Sauno stopped often to wait for the others to arrive. Either they were patient or simply dragging paws to keep from the destination. Whatever may be, the constant lagging back gave a crease of annoyance to her brow. Should I pry?
"We arrive when we will, not when we must." The words seemed a whisper, but harsh in edge of finality to end the girl's agitation. Siol watched the pommel of her saddle, moving in tune with the clip and clop of her talbuk's gait. If only it would slow to a stop, or turn abruptly. Giants once roamed the area, taking the land the Kaldorei scouts once ruled. Perhaps they would find a reason to way lay the travellers.
When the stag and cats stopped, she knew the moment past. Too late to turn without seeming foolish, the elderly eyes moved slowly from the shined pommel of saddle, following the blueblack stones of road, ending upon the crags of the gorge. A place no snow fall nor flower would lie. A land fevered from an illness of possession.
Everything was wrong.
"Theo--" The word died in her mouth, bitter as lime gone to rot. He was not with them. No longer. When? Her eyes clouded as the answer came. The choking of smoke as they sat among fires, planning with others. They despised the interlopers and defilers now embraced as allies in the war to come. Too long had she warred; hatred as fiery as love in her breast. They shared no tender moments before the finality. No one ever thought truly death awaited. That was for beasts hunted for meals and the races not graced by Elune's light.
"Elune's light shone so brightly. Your hair, it glowed. Glow..." Her voice trailed off as her fingers twitched. Some sound beyond the gorge of rock grinding and falling matching the memory of his arms twisted strangely, a cloven hoof upon them, her throat was raw...why? Screams. But his or her own, she could never remember.
A twitch captured her fingers again. The shiver running along her arm until something grasped her. The movement was fluid. Without thought, she drug the enemy to the snows, puffs of white gathering in her vision. Something choked for breath, clawing at her arms, scratching her face. Siol snarled, seeking a weapon yet finding nothing. Her teeth. Ripping the throat would work. Even they needed air!
Fur rippled in place of flesh, and the huntress was tumbled as easily as a child's doll. The bear of shaggy grey and luminous symbols of the circle pinned her into the drifts.
"CALM, SIOL! I am Sauno. You are here. Not there, not then. Peace..." They both coughed, unable to meet the other's eyes.
Turning, crawling about on hands and knees, Siol sought the stub of firebloom. Sticking it betwixt her teeth, she sought a long, hard pull. "I have a feeling, this was a bad idea, Sauno." Falling back in the snow, arms flailed to her sides, she simply heaved smoke tinged air.
Watching the gorge, nose twittering with scents, the bear nodded. "Now you tell me..."
There was comedy there, somewhere. Siol laughed.
* * *
Case: 243
Patient: Night Elf 34 or 134, Siol
Illness: Lunatic from the battlefield, the usual
She has burns, cuts, breaks. Oh fel. Give her something to just shut her up. Three red. Two blue. And a mallet to the cranium. I need out of this outfit.
~ patient notes from the medical journals of Dr. Olivia Thurston, Medivac four, Hyjal
They lost their mounts somewhere in the first turn of crags. Battleworn, but not battle weary. The stag charged and died. For a moment, the bleating could have been a battle cry. Siol did not have time to notice.
"Just like then, fel guards. Always the fel damned guards." Landing hard behind a boulder, Siol turned to Sauno. Gold and green filled the hollow they lurked in, the magics of her kind to heal and mend. Pity, they never work well enough.
The moment of healing light, the glory of nature rushing as something molten and gentle in her veins made the world almost painful to return to. Sauno missed her chance for the dream. So many did. Every spell cast became a bitter acknowledgement of the world she was stuck in. "Do you think he made it?"
The huntress tilted her head, long ears flicking to hear. The grunts of demon greeted them. "Fel guard." A scrabbling of stones. "Fighting." A long series of screeches and cries that sounded as wind driven too quickly between fissures of ice or a baby twisted up tight in a blanket. "Shar."
"Shar?"
Siol glanced back at Sauno, hair a halo pale and silvered about her head. Memories waited. She could not let them pounce. "Shar."
Grasping a horn from with a pack, Siol yanked free a gargantuan piece of mail. Something of the eyes seemed dead. Sauno shook her head, fanning that hair, her father's gift about her head. Were those tears in her eyes? "No...no there has to be another way."
"Give me my ammo." The helm slid home, catches making contact with the rest of her armor. The set almost complete. It took a year to remove it the last time. So many things sacrificed for it. Not from some strange enchant. Only Siol's wretched stubborness and deadly aim.
The eyes flared into lurid green life.
"Time."
"One..."
Siol lifted her gun, sliding home a line of bullets that gleamed like quicksilver.
"Two..."
The screeches began turning far more shrill.
"Thre---"
Sauno never got to three.
Siol was gone, slipping into the mists of their kind, to take careful aim. The moments so quick became slow. Vision slipping past the boulder, the dust of their long dead hazing the air, the claws and whipping tail of her raptor companion, she spied it. The shot rang out to land hollow and thick.
Another, and another, slid free from the chamber as a beast given reign to dine and kill. Each blast rocked the creature back a bit. Just the openning the raptor needed to slide teeth and foreclaws deeper within the chitenous armor, the braiding of muscle. They both sought the heart. Wherever it may be.
Someone was screaming. Nearby. Death was coming quickly now to the demon. Siol should seek the survivor. The haze became thicker, darker. She returned again. The battle front of demonic filth faultered. No one knew why. But every one of the Kaldorei fell to their knees. They knew. The clarion call could be felt. Dismay filled them for being cheated this chance to fulfill every dream given by Cenarius. Joy cascaded beyond it for the end of the suffering.
The others laid in honor and prayer. Looking to the skies. Seeking some wisdom in the marked moment. Not noticing the first twinge of true pain to wrack their bodies. But Siol did not fall and stay. Someone screamed. She had to find them.
The pale locks laid in a river of sweat and blood. The silver dappled in hues like the horses hides of the humans. Spotted, gleaming, yet far too red, too wet. His eyes closed. Life had been slipping from him from a wound. She laid him here for tending. Words had left her, not kind but hard. She would not stay with him, but would fight on in his stead. The horn claimed him. He. Hers.
But these tresses, so like his, did not lay flat but shivered. Eyes clearing within the helm, Siol finally left that past for the present. Her fingers twisted and curled in the hair, turning a face upwards. "Daughter...forgive me."
Goodbyes had been said.
Posted on 2008-02-14 at 18:14:10.
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Topic: Art of Yanamari
Subject: Siol, The Seeking (Warcraft story)
(Trying to come back more. This is a story based in World of Warcraft.)
Winter had returned, a shimmering of white that laid serene upon trees clinging for a life that could never be. With every clip of hoof, the powder of it puffed and floated, becoming as clouds and mists. No winds came. Not a shiver of air beyond breath and a slow meandering pace of a rider.
Why had she returned. More stated than question, for the answer laid in her eyes. Despite the purity of snow, the lingering emerald of leaves crystalized in ice, the world hummed with a thunder. A dark heart beating, so believed by the Circle. Once lost, the Kaldorei never travelled back, only in memory. For seeing and feeling what remained could lead to the slow sleep. An end of sorts, a death, that sapped and drained the life of the everliving.
All of this had changed. The rider was too stubborn or old to accept it.
Flicking fingers, ice cracking and falling from leathers bound in mail, Siol sought a pouch at her side. She felt numb, truly from the cold though flights of fancy threatened to make her believe it from this journey to lands so close to Hyjal. But he had promised to come, to meet here at the teeth of their world.
"I should know better." The words mumbled into a scarf tightly pulled as fingers worked to loose a small wrapping of herbs in leaf. Touching the roll to a shoulder, the gleam of fel fire potent enough to withstand the chill, she lit a little something to combat the cold. With a long drag, her eyes glazed briefly. "Where the fel are you, Moon."
The stag below her shifted and pawed at the drifts of snow, wishing in its own way for a bit more warmth and the stability of a road. She knew this. As if reading its thoughts. A pressing of knees ended such rebellion. "If I can't, you can't."
"Cannot what, Leaf?"
Sliding her eyes, Siol's met those of another Kaldorei. Leathers pale and marked in snow to hide the charcoal beneath, she could have been waiting in quiet for an age. Or five minutes.
"Sauno."
"Siol. Shall we?"
They had returned. Sauno upon her cat of white. Siol upon her stag of shadow. And a third, a cat of mist colors, alone without rider. It was time to say goodbye. With another deeper pull on the firebrand, Siol turned expecting to see him. Riding straight backed, eyes uncertain, lips curved in a quiet smile. Only open air and pale lands greeted her.
"Is this how a phantom wound feels..."
Posted on 2008-02-14 at 18:11:47.
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Topic: Audalis: afterlife
Subject: I feeeel haaaappy
It depends on how you are documenting this, Olan. If it is from the viewpoint of men, it may differ according to how they view things.
From the viewpoint of gods, I could see it being a bickering, political game. Some gods would follow their role without question. Others work to unravel the work of their kin. Much like the Olympian, they dabble and bicker and work against each other.
I like the idea of soul being held in judgement. Spirits, avatars, etc of each god could make a bid or whatnot for specific souls. The faithless would truly learn quickly that there are indeed gods and goddesses (faithless is a rarity right in this world?).
Hmm not all the articles for the gods are up...trying to recall the one that was a minor god that wanted to help the downtrodden and sick? Might be an interesting twist if he was always trying to intercede for the faithless in his mercy.
Posted on 2006-11-29 at 11:59:05.
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Topic: Firefly/Serenity RPG - Looking for Browncoats
Subject: mmm hmm!
Oh my stars and garters! Firefly! *beams*
I love the verse, love the show, and have some ideas of things I'd love to try. So many options my brain is buzzing.
So offhand, some attractive options include a bouncer/security person, a fence with more connections in space than they care to admit to who also handles the cooking (I like this one yarr), or a quirky technician type.
I don't have the RPG book. *gasp* But I'm most certainly willing to learn as we go. Just let me know! Many thanks!
Posted on 2006-11-28 at 12:50:38.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Thank you!
Most happy to return to play the part of that insipid noble. Ahhh how I missed Ally.
Posted on 2006-11-20 at 14:23:53.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: Back at the...compound?
(Written between Al and Yana.)
Elsewhere...
Alloryn wakes up in complete darkness. She can remember being chased, and being captured but she doesn’t know how she got here. She tries to move and finds that she is not bound, but then realizes that there is a metal collar around her neck. Also, she isn’t wearing her clothing anymore, but has been changed into some sort of uniform.
Trying to summon mana to create some light brings terrible pain to her head, overwhelmingly so. She knows what she is wearing now - one of those collars used by the empire to control mages. This is a nightmare to Alloryn for these collars essentially put whoever has a certain ring in control of her magic. In fact, if used with other forms of manipulative magic, it can turn her into a will-less slave of the master ring wearer.
The room is spartan. There is the bed you lie upon. All the windows are boarded and nailed shut from the outside. The walls have no doors but there is a door in the floor – which is locked from the other side. She is trapped.
There is one other thing in the room. A sword. A sword lies on the floor, near the bed. As Alloryn approaches it, the collar sends waves of pleasure through her body. No doubt to touch it or hold it would be sheer ecstasy. But is that what her captives want? Why would they leave a sword for her to defend herself? Did they expect her to take her own life? Why not just kill her themselves?
Mysteries contemplated in the dark.
But Alloryen was not one to sit idly by and flounder. Reaching forth and feeling the pleasure running tendrils down her back, she knew all too well what it could be. A trap. A terrible and horrible trap. With her magics, she may have sensed it, worked against it, perhaps even bent it to her will. But without her sense and strength, she would be become bonded. Her fingers almost laid upon the hilt before she snatched them back, rubbing them in some phantom pain, wishing it was pain she felt.
What does it want? And why this collar? The empire's wares..in the hands of this demonic lord? This does not make sense in the least! Unless... Some memories flashed to her mind. Of the lady Gwanele...of Antonio...of the dreams. She felt choked knowing it was only a matter of time until her fate was learned. Do they wish to use me? Twist me into one of their own for some purpose of war? That sword would never let me kill myself. Yet...why? Turning her back on the sword, pulling vainly at her collar, she did yet again the one thing she hated above all things.
"What would you do mother?" She had to escape, had to find a way. Biting into her lip until it bled, she reached to the bedding. Yanking away the blanket from the matress, she wound it up to throw over the sword. With her booted foot, she shoved the blanketed blade as far away as she could.
"Consider where you are. So if the door is on the floor, and windows boarded, I am up high. Which means a ladder is below. It must have some form of latch." Laying on the floor, she tried to check every board. If there is space to peer between, she fought for it. With care, she checked the latches and boards of the trapdoor. She did not expect to find a way out from there just yet.
If the floor proved worthless, Alloryen had other thoughts. Of covering the trap door with the bed, searching the ceiling. If nothing above proved out, then time to check the window.
Time, she knew it was not on her side, but she had to try. "I have escaped my own home many a time. I should be able to do this. Hmm...perhaps I can get a nail or two free. Does this uniform have a buckle..." All the while, she tried to ignore her itching fingers.
Posted on 2006-11-20 at 12:57:50.
Edited on 2006-11-20 at 13:01:44 by Yanamari
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Topic: Project: Sendria
Subject: History
History
To recount the history of Sendria dips into a past and present stained with blood, smoke, and desire. From time immemorial, the people of the land have fought for their right to live and thrive. To do so, they created a machine of war, an army focused on keeping the peace within the borders and another seeking to dominate all neighbors.
37 BER, The Founding - Sendria began as a territory of Drannon, but took true shape in 37 BER. During the reign of Cilannin, Drannon suffered great internal strife. The emperor knew his time was coming to a close. Gathering what power he could, along with secretive deals with other nobles, he left the nation and seat of power. And in the northern lands of Sendria, he created a new power. One to be ruled by the mailed fist and serpent tongue.
He enslaved the lower races of crunaik, ogres, and goblins, using them in the lines of war. Over time, he gathered other nobles and powers to himself, building the foundations of a terrible dream. Land was power in the old mind of Drannon's greatness. But in his dreams, he found something else. With this risein power, he built the keep of Starfall. From here, the nation's true test was faced and beaten.
For years upon years, the country sent campaigns against their neighbors of Coria, Ertain, and Drannon. They cleared the landside of lumber and strip-mined deep into the earth to fuel their ambitions. Hundreds died in the fields of battle, earning the nation a stigma of darkness and dread with the others. And over the years, the stimga only increased. It began as a whisper from the far plains near Shamoth. Something dark that stalked the night, as a hungry beast or blighted devil. Something laid in the earth far too long, being unearthed in the deep mining. It sang a terrible song so much like the greed deep in the hearts of the people. There was found a stone of great beauty, white and pure with veins of deepest black. As fine as marble and as strong as steel.
As the ages shifted and changed, the leaders changed as well. Yet, each and every one continued with a plan started the moment the rock was found. The building of a great castle on a small island in the Shade River. Seemingly possessed with a singular goal, the work toiled on through every season of king. The wars slackened during this time, but the borders remained firm by the will of Starfall Keep.
211-226 ER, Rise of Amer'Loc - In the turning of 211 ER, King Dhirva retained the services of a most trusted and talented aid, Casine Thamril.Casine was a powerful and prideful enchantress, able to wield a power over the elements and death that frightened many of his court. Of such a young and tender age, the king knew she would become a greater threat. But her spells had already begun their work upon his mind. And her desires became his.
The castle completed not long after she took control of the country, keeping the good and last king on her strings. Soon those of the young city of Davnor knew who truly ruled their lives. But the truth was never something spoken of in polite society. Soon after asserting her control, she was lost to the island, not seen, but always felt.
The years past, and when she was seen again it was not so much by the people of Davnor, but the eyes of youthful love she had once felt with Lord Alon Ramac. He had not forgotten his passion for her. And she had learned of a spell to forever change the future of Sendria and her bid for power. Tales speak that she made a pact with Tyrannis herself for eternal youth. But in truth, she made a deal with a summoned demon to learn the lost arts of necromancy and the rituals to become a lich.
In return, she was sworn to fell the powerful knight of Ertain. But demons can be tricky things. And instead of delivering a deathblow to Ertian's forces, she created an adversary that would last the test of time she herself would see. For the demon delivered the knight into the realm of shade changing him to an unholy avenger of the lands of undead. In the year 226 ER, Caisine became Amer'Loc, the Lich Queen of Sendria.
230 ER, Year of Ashen Death - Years past as Amer'Loc took up the residence on the island of Avora lake. Longships left the shores of Davnor in an endless parade of nobles and powers seeking to control or join the enchantress' court. But few boats ever returned.
In secret, Amer'Loc began to create a new order of power. Seers, witches, nobles with a few magical tomes...any who held power in their veins found their way into her chambers. And one-by-one, they knelt in subjugation to her will or suffered an agonizing torture of disease and rot. In the turning of the year 230 ER, her plan took effect. Those bodies of the tortured were sent to key houses in Davnor and the cities beyond. Pieces of the flesh were introduced into the food the powerful ate. And within the year, none remained of her enemies. In a single display og patient power, Amer'Loc took control of Sendria.
245 ER, Fall of Suvnir Downs - Warriors and clerics of various powers of the light began a slow invasion of Sendria. To the west of the nation, on a road to the Commonwealth of Dorest, the Suvnir Downs provided a tranquil setting of small waterfalls, calm groves, and beautiful meadows. People who lived in the area seemed untouched by the dark corruption of Sendria, chosing to live peacefully with the land.
And within this quiet community, clerics and paladins of Solanis, Rydor, Merca, and Therassor met. Together, they planned the infiltration of the castle and death of Amer'Loc on Avora lake. But never did they realize what would befall their executed plan, the tragedy they would bring. On the island, the warriors and clerics faced an adversary they were not truly prepared to face. In terror, they fled to the haven of the Suvnir Downs. Their steps were not hounded. What awaited them in that tranquil land forever destroyed their faith. The land of peace smoked from fires. Rocks molten and terrible had pounded the countryside. The innocent died horribly by the rail of death.
What became of those fallen heroes, few know. But some sages believe a few of their number were taken by guards of Wyvern Keep. Perhaps some of their heritage remains there to this day?
Today - Ages have past since this time, yet the history moves and changes slowly. The nation of Sendria has remained locked in the deadly power of the lich queen Amer'Loc living in her unholy castle or white and black marble. Lords and ladies rise to power according to her design. Cities and wars move thought her careful planning. None move nor breath unless dictated by the supreme eye of the island and its dread keeper. And those that have tested her anger have paid the price. The city of Undarth is a ruin of a ghosts and spectres, Melekur howls with the anger of skeletal hordes, and the lasting memory of Sunvir Downs.
Dates
48-37 BER - Sendria's bid for independence begins quietly after other nations have suceeded.
37 BER - Cilannin, fallen Emperor of Drannon, founds Sendria in independence.
36 BER - Founding of Blood Guard in Starfall Keep, captial of Sendria.
31 BER - Cilannin dies in strange circumstances during a hunt. King Felgus takes the crown in a greedy attempt to take the power over the lands.
31-5 ER - Age of Thirteen Kings - During these years, many kings, thirteen total, took the crown of Sendria through assassination and deceit. The power of war grew through the increasing sizes of garrisons each Lord had.
5 ER - Reign of General Soreil and General Fesrin - Through the might of their men, the two lords of the armies enacted a plan to end the ridiculous situation of the constant changes in power. After the year of warfare ended, Soreil created the Obsidian Dragons, to protect the wilds of the nation. Fesrin continued to lead the Blood Guard, to claim the lands of their neighbors and protect the borders. Through their combined might, they placed a new line on the throne, always keeping them in line with the threat of arms.
198-226 ER - King Dhirva rules Sendria, accepting the first female advisor, Enchantress Casine Thamril.
226 ER - Casine Thamril takes the name and castle of Amer'Loc. She completes the rituals to become a lich. Her rule becomes an eternal tyranny over Sendria.
230 ER - Year of Ashen Death - A terrible plague ravages the households of powerful nobles, merchants, and religious orders. Bodies are ashen pale, eyes burned out, tongues black. After the ravages end, Amer'Loc creates the High Council to answer only to her power. The true tyranny of the lich queen begins.
245 ER - Fall of Suvnir Downs - The battlements and lands of Suvnir are obliterated by the decree of Amer'Loc.
299 ER - Fall of Undarth - The city of Undarth ruled by General Marksemur receives the highest punishment by Amer'Loc. Only the brave dare its borders. Rumors of ghosts and shades spread across Sendria of its fate.
312 ER - Fall of Melenkur - The Duke of Starfall brings word of treason. Melenkur and its Duke Corvanus receive the ultimate punishment for allying with Ertain. The castle befalls a terrible spell of death and decay. The remaining soldiers carry out their punishment in undeath as skeletons.
Posted on 2006-11-16 at 14:10:28.
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Topic: Project: Sendria
Subject: Warfasre
Warfare
War brings peace through superiority of numbers and arms. It leads to national pride and love of justice. It gives warlords the land their crave and violence they revere. Some say Sendria have evolved the notions of war into artistry.
Long ago, Sendrian warlords learned to protect their lands and campaign beyond the borders, forces would be split. To ensure that enemies could not captialize on the weakening of forces in a nation, the warlords created two orders of warriors: the Obsidian Dragons and Blood Guard.
The Obsidian Dragons protect and provide peace within the borders of Sendria. Garbed in the armor of steel with an emblazoned black dragon, they hail as the ultimate authority in Sendria. Their central garrison lies in Callidus Castle, near Lake of Xerxes. Every city has a garrison, every major road a patrol. At times, they come into conflict with the Blood Guard. But these moments are rare as clear definitions of power and prestige exist between the two.
The Blood Guard protect the border and attack outsiders who dare to invade. Originating in the keep of Starfall, the guard send trained recruits and enslaved creatures including cruniak, goblins, and ogres to the other garrisons along the borders of the nation. They have a garrison in the city of Davnor for reinforcements. All cities have garrisons along the borders, including many hidden contingents in unmarked barracks and towns along the landscape. Although most threats enter from Ertain and Drannon, the leaders have long learned not to weaken any defense. Nations that seek to enter through a different route rarely find the borders unguarded. The guard wear armor of black with a blood red insignia of Starfall. They are known for their blood red cloaks.
In the halls of Wyvern Keep, many speak of a new power of warrior the Duchess Annora builds. These warriors seek the arts of scholarship, ritual faith, and the sword. Unlike the warriors of the orders of Blood or Dragon, the men and women of Wyvern hone their skills in all weapons and tactics. Rumors fly fast and furious throughout Davnor and the halls of the two warrior castes that this new breed of warrior may make them obsolete.
Warfare is a powerful motivation for the nation. Slaves, armor, lumber, tacticians, engineers, and informants all have a place of power in such a land. But even those of pure heart seeking coin find their ideals twisted and tainted remaining too long in this sinister land. All commandments of war come from the high council that resides in Davnor. And all proclamations of assaults against other nations are sent from Amer'Loc to her Hand, the highest position of military power in Sendria.
Posted on 2006-11-16 at 14:07:34.
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Topic: Project: Sendria
Subject: Values and Taboos
Values and Taboos
Sendria has few taboos that they find questionable. Even the religion of the gods of light gives them a product to price or demean for its twisted desires. One of the greatest values of the nation lies in war. Unlike many countries, Sendria has not only created an army but become a war machine in itself.
If your heart seeks to sate itself in debauchery, assassination, mercantilism, slavery, or reclaiming the lost souls to the dark, you will find your dreams in Sendria. It is the land of dark opportunities.
Posted on 2006-11-16 at 14:06:40.
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Topic: Project: Sendria
Subject: Religion
Religion
All religions find a place within the hearts and minds of Sendria. But few take an active role in public temples and practices. The people of Sendria tend to follow a specific set of deities including Tyrannis, Bakloran, D'Hurgen. Shinara, Alanus, Sharlys, and Salerna. Many of the other deities have followings if not as large. Sendria has many temples, most if not all to the evil and twisted gods.
Priests and the faithful preside over hellish rituals in private and at times in the public eye. Of all nations and places in Antaron, Sendria is one of the few with the freedom of worship for the dark powers. The largest temple of D'hurgen resides in Davnor. The largest for Bakloran may be found in Starfall Keep.
But those priests not following a dark path hide away to protect the light. Secret societies and temples may be found throughout the land for deities such as Lysora, Solanis, Telemor, Falloes, and Rydor.
Posted on 2006-11-16 at 14:05:48.
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Topic: Project: Sendria
Subject: Trade and Commerce
Trade and Commerce
Sendria corners markets for illegal and questionable goods. The entire nation thrives on the selling and export of slaves, war, and drugs.
The nation also embarks on a small trade in lumber, which has upset the Commonwealth of Dorest. Rivalries between the dark nation and coalition of lumber villages has
TBD!
Posted on 2006-11-16 at 14:05:04.
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Topic: Project: Sendria
Subject: Government
Government
The castle of Amer'Loc and the city of Davnor rule over the entirety of Sendria. The words and decisions of the island rulership enact through the council of Davnor. Messengers and soldiers bearing the insignia of the black dragon carry these decrees to every city and border. Yet many of the people whisper that the island sees and hears all, despite the distance of the border or quiet speech of the courtier.
Guilds control all trade and commerce. For every possible commodity, except information, a guild rules it. Whores and slaves, produce and lumber, taverns and inns, drugs and caravans, all have strict guidelines to adhere to. To join a guild, persons seeking membership must demonstrate skills in their chosen area. If they do not have the skills, they can enter a term of indentured servitude, or apprenticeship, to learn the trade.
Once they gain membership, they swear a blood oath and taxation tithe to the guild. Each guild has varied initiations for their membership. For the assassins, they may be given a target to eliminate. For taverns, they may be given a place infested with vermin and poor conditions to revitalize. As time goes by, they can become masters and patrons to other apprentices. But of course, even this level of membership requires a certain amount of gold and skill. Everything has its price. But the rewards have made the nation powerful and rich.
The rule of the lands beyond Amer'Loc follows a regimented progression. Towns and villages have the older and wiser, or powerful and rich rule them. They answer Lords and ladies preside over cities and towns. Cities with more power, such as keeps and castles or thriving trade routes, can gain the status of Duke or Duchess. To gain such a title takes a lifetime of servitude and patience. Playing political games have included cases brought before the council of Davnor to duels at morning light. Others still use the tried and true power through guild membership to gain the foothold they desire.
Notable Powers of Sendria
All aspects of the nation are controlled by Davnor, the central city of Sendria. Many nobles and generals rule their lands under the proclamations of Davnor. A few of these nobles hold title to the councils of Davnor. All of these men and women answer to the council, who in turn answer to the island fortress of Amer'Loc.
Piers Aelfgar - Duke of Davnor, Hand of Amer'Loc
Few know his past, but understand he answers only to the call of Amer'Loc. Even the thieves guild has yet to learn of his vices. He is the safest man in all of Sendria, for none would dare harm or impede the hand of Amer'Loc.
Osborn Rosoman - Duke of Cainse, Order of the Obsidian Dragons
This order is of the black guard in Sendria. Osburn is rarely in Davnor, staying always in the field of battle or at his home of Callidus Castle. His order follows the command of the Hand of Amer'Loc.
Raeburn Sebastian - Duke of Starfall, Grandmaster of the Blood Guard of Bakloran
This is an order of warriors, sorcerers, and rogues who partake in bloody rituals for their power. Many step out of the way of this order, mainly not to become their next victim. Some say vampires support its work.
Muirel Corvanus - Lord of Melenkur
Long since past, the knights of Melenkur were loyal and proud subjects of the realm. Now Lord Corvanus watches over his skeletal soldiers as the Keeper of the Undying Legions. He alone retained his memory and mind after the punishments of Amer'Loc. He has never accepted the rule of the island. And he never will. To this day, the undead lord survives to do the bidding of Sendria. But rumors spread that this is changing.
Kassaley d'Ambroise - Lady of Royan
Although her title warrents little in the sway of power of Sendria, the Lady Kassaley is greatly loved by the people of Royan. A city of trade and artistry, she watches over her people with sincere love and a steady economic hand. Many believe she could make a power for herself in Davnor, but she could never tarry long from her artisans and craftsmen. Many of the perishable goods such as paper and clothing come from this city into Starfall Keep and out of Sendria in trade.
Godwin Phrakes - Lord of Darkstone Castle
The castle of Darkstone holds an old heritage mixed of Drannon and Sendria. The Phrakes have held Darkstone for generations, bringing a prestige of old Drannese honor to the eager ambition of Sendrian blood. Lord Godwin treats all within his home with equal care and grace. His actions gain the ire and humor of Davnor's elite. But few would dare say so before the rich family leader.
Annora Saisset - Duchess of Wyvern Keep
Eyes as bright as the sun and face as hard as stone. These words describe the stoic beauty of the priestess turned warrior of Wyvern Keep. Many attacks upon her home have fallen to the clear and careful plans of the woman. She surrounds herself with poets and scholars, listening to their words for insights. Yet none can say she is weakened for it. Many men have sought to gain her position in the traditionally male led keep. But none have succeeded.
Posted on 2006-11-16 at 14:04:13.
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Topic: Project: Sendria
Subject: Culture and Society
Culture and Society
Sendria is a world in which loyalty paves your way. People who seek fame, fortune, and a long life gain alliances with as many as possible without becoming anyone's direct enemy. Becoming an enemy means being a liability and death. Those that have long-standing grudges and squabbles typically have the power, prestige, and friends to keep the threat at a safe distance. People who wish to rise in the ranks and gain power typically seek patrons and masters with a range on contacts and resources on the side.
Noblility and lieges may come from ancient bloodlines or powerful merchants and thieves with the gold to pay. Prestige can be purchased and power attained through the simple plying of trade of assassination in the night. Because of this constant vigilence, Sendrian nobility tend to keep personal guards bound by blood oaths. Many nobles and guilds believe fervently in blood oaths, especially those declared to Bakloran, Merca, and Tyrannis. The swearing of one's life and soul under the eyes of the gods gives the lord's power over their vassels. And few would tempt the fate of breaking such an oath by such powers.
The people of Sendria have reason for their paranoia. Information can be purchased as quickly as a meal. If one has ears and eyes, they must be a spy is a common belief among Sendrians. No matter the city, no matter the station of one's life, everyone has some piece of information they can use to gain a better position or a few coins. But not all communitites are bedeviled by the hierarchy of politics and greed. Peoples who live far from the city of Davnor live much like those of any other city. They live by the dictates of the rulership and common religion.
Sendrians who live under the rule of the Blood Guard love their nation and will sacrifice their sons and daughters to protect the land. The machine of war stands as a testament of their eternal devotion to their home. Cities and keeps of the Blood Guard reside along the borders of Sendria. Families enter their children into service to become knights and vassels of their lord. And when the call arises to defend or gain new lands, they rise without question. Few of Sendrians men and women become common foot soldiers. The forces use many enslaved races as fodder, including goblinkind and krunik.
All lords, patrons, officials, and masters have sworn their own oaths to Amer'Loc. For reasons of fairness and prosperity, the ruler ship of the island has decreed that none shall have outright warfare against the other without a petition and stated case to the island council. The options include Wars of Dawn (simple tests to determine the winner, such as a duel), Wars of High Setting (cases brought to court), and Wars of Final Dusk (extreme warfare until the other is completely obliterated).
To date, only three cases have ever been stated for War of Final Dusk at the island:
-- Melenkur (castle of skeletal warriors now)
-- Undarth (city of the dead)
-- Sunvir Downs (not even a ruin exists)
Polite wars of First Dawn and High Setting still rage, but only in the courtrooms, social functions, churches, mage schools, and dark allies of the land.
Posted on 2006-11-16 at 14:00:33.
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Topic: Project: Sendria
Subject: Project: Sendria, Audalis
Author note: This is a work in progress and may change...alot. Thanks!
The Nation of Sendria
To the west of Ertain and north of Drannon reigns the darkened lands of Sendria. A nation always on the brink of war, Sendria resides as a bastion for innovation, trade, and raw power. Travelers tell of dark forces of death and destruction that wait as predators in the cities and sweep across the plains in haunted whispers. But those who make their home in the nation say otherwise.
Sendria traces its roots to the ages of the ancient Anathari. During the reign of the Empire of Drannon, Sendria was not an established nation independent of Anathari rule. Then in 37 BER, it gained the seperation if sought, taking a good portion of Drannon with it. Cillanin, the diposed Emperor of Drannon, left the land he won by murder and terror after his throne was sucessfully challenged. Rumors and ancient tales speak of a darkness that moved amongst the land when the shift in power happened. But the truth is not known.
Since that age, Sendria has gained more land and resources through constant warfare and subjugation. The darkest of creatures and powers have come to the embattled land, all seeking fame and fortune. Of all the dangers and threats of the lands, they soon learned the greatest resided in the other human nations of Ertain and Drannon. Seeking any victory they could, Sendrians took to dark arts and darker deals to overcome neighboring kings and armies. Over the centuries, the nation was more blood-soaked from personal interests and business than war with other nations.
The tide of power truly changed in Sendria with the rise of Amer'Loc. Many people wonder and rumor what hides upon the isle that dictates actions and desires for the realm. Did a demon, an ancient magi, or Tyrannis herself reside on that spot of land on the Shade River? Whatever the mystery, all folk know the council of Sendria resides on the misted island, watching over the people and security of the nation. The instructions relayed from the isle always arrive at the precise apex of moments, as if a great power saw and heard everything occurring in the nation. In the histories of the land, and the loremasters of old, none can remember a time when Amer'Loc did not rule the entire nation.
All major decisions regarding the commerce and conquest of Sendria flow from Amer'Loc, through Davnor the capital, and on to all outlying powers on the borders. Yet along the edges of this nation, looking in from others, one would believe it a terrible place filled with tyrants and terror. Militia units prowl the borders with orcs and ogres under their control. At any moment, the entire nation seems ready to enter warfare with its neighbors. And on many occasions, it has. The need to prove supremacy and gain power is a lust all Sendrians have in support and love of their nation. And if ever caught saying otherwise, they are not seen or heard from again.
The language of Sendria is one of dark rumblings of war, of great and terrible magic, and of death. Every Sendrian acts as the politician, carefully weighing words and actions. One never knows when the hand of Amer'Loc will choose them, seek a change in history, or desire the lives of enemies for an insatiable need of power. To live in Sendria is to be feared and fearful. To survive and grow in Sendria is to play the game and win.
Posted on 2006-11-16 at 13:58:09.
Edited on 2006-11-16 at 13:58:46 by Yanamari
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Topic: Memorable NPCs?
Subject: tee hee
May have to write a story... Where are they now: Elvaleryn!
Posted on 2006-11-16 at 13:43:51.
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Topic: Nothing remains...dead...
Subject: Wardrums
"The way of magic sometimes best considered as a weave of tapestries... quilts?" That finally sparked eyes. Cornelius sometimes forgot that the most gifted seemed to spring from folk not quite expected. And this plow hand that accidentally set fire to his mule by yelling so hard to shake mountain would not rightly understand the more difficult subjects without dumbing it down. Father Albelard frowned upon it; then again, Abelard was from the cities and some kingdom with odd ideas of teaching all folk numbers and letters. If everyone could read, would not their hidden and safe center of learning come under danger?
Shaking off his thoughts, he continued the lecture to the not so attentive plow hand who was aiming into his nose for some new root to dig out. With a sigh from his boots, he motioned the lad to leave.
Taking up his pipe, Cornelius stared in disgust at his forgetfulness. The weed had burnt to nothing with only a couple puffs enjoyed. "If I am not careful, I will burn a hole through this thing..."
A slamming of door drifted up with a soft roar to his sitting place. Brows rustling upward, he watched the open library door, awaiting to next angry visitor with yet another issue of getting lost in the woods or some beast seeming to blink in and out of existance.
But what greeted his eyes sent his pipe to slipping free of fingers to clatter on the floor.
"Did it work?"
Kiz nodded gruffly, a young boy of only a few turning of seasons, yawning in her arms. "It better have. I'm tired of what you call repayin' debts meaning my hide on the line."
Huffing, he bent to retrieve the pipe.
"Just cause the others scattered to the winds, an' I was the igit that came back to return your thanks, dun' mean you can just have me cater your whims."
Grinning at his shoes, he rose and nodded. "Cater to whims? Ah finally you are seeking finer learning."
The snort and rubbing of nose, akin to what her son was doing, proved otherwise.
"Well. Tell me of it. The...as you say...mess of it." With a clap, acolytes brought in platters of cheese and meats, a pitcher of water, and a small stool for the lad.
Dropping her packs to the ground, she sunk into a chair. Small hands reached out to her, the silent boy begging to be held. With a short tender look, the gruff woman slipped the boy to her knee. Never missing a beat, she slipped a beautifully embroidered bit of cloth from her bracer to clean the dust of the road from the boy's face.
"I reckon you expect my news to be bad. Well...it's a might bit worse." For a moment, she met the wizard's eyes, then returned to her work. He could swear the cornflower blue of Kiz's eyes teared up for the briefest of moments.
Her voice dropped to a whisper, something used between guards at a fire. "Sendria is moving. When in Davnor, something the folk said they had never seen...happened. A ship left the isle, Cor. Left and arrived spilling forth a host of warriors and robed folk the likes I've never seen. But despite the folk all turning into scared childer speaking of ghosts, I laid my eyes on the vanguard."
The boy on her lap sucked at his bottom lip, eyes inquisitive as if understanding it all. "Men. They were just men. But their commander, he had eyes of the dead. He won't stop for oldsters, women, and babes unless to take their throats. Funny thing is...they didn't hitch up companies and ride for our borders like I expected."
A hand laid on Kiz's, seeking her look. Cornelius stood closer now, whispering as well, eyes filled with a curious dread. "Where?"
"Northly and west in Sendria. To a land...where the dead walk."
What he mumbled she could not place. But she knew that look. Sighing at her son, who motioned with his hands, she nodded. "I'm sorry my treasure. We'll be hitting the road again."
Grinning wide, he clapped. "I swear...you take after me more and more, my little Tobe."
Posted on 2006-11-16 at 13:36:45.
Edited on 2006-11-16 at 13:40:25 by Yanamari
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