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#2401 Rhuen


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Posted 08 April 2014 - 06:55 PM

story time:


Conquest of Espara ch.06




        Migdra, the woman who until recently was known as The Witch of the North Woods, it has only been a three months since she awakened the mythical figure The Queen of the Abyss. In a palace raised from the stone and sand by Rhulan’s sorcery Migdra has been both student and lover to the ancient sorceress. Here she has been trained in magic unlike any she has ever known before, far grander than she imagined, and taking to it far easier than she would have thought. Rhulan tells her it is because the seal placed upon on all women of her world by Garudan’s jealousy and fear is now gone; that with proper training and time the people could raise armies of magic and technology to topple the heaven of Garudan.


    She watches through a mystic pool the witch hunters who once pursued her, it was by this means that she knew when to trick them, when Rhulan offered her the chance to rob them of their weapons and maroon them in hostile waters. Surprisingly it has taken weeks for the next phase of the plan to come about, the information she fed them while disguised of the isle of Shora, the crystal isle home to one of the five great witches who in the past had made pacts with the then eldritch form of Rhulan; pacts which changed them into powerful mystical monsters. The witch hunters have a boat and new weapons, preparing to venture to the crystal island. Migdra scoffs as she watches. She holds her abdomen as a queasiness comes over her. She has felt it for the last few days, Rhulan refuses to allow her to use magic to overcome it, telling Migdra that she has to look into something. Although since it started Rhulan has become a gentler lover and refuses to use the shapeshifting phallus that Migdra had so begged her to keep using.




     They are merely four men. Ronald who leads them, Patrick who is their navigator, Ganz a head strong colonel back home in Merigland, and Peter a trained hunter of all things that dwell in the darkness, and deer, and boar, and of course wild fowl. It had taken some doing these last few weeks, what with being marooned in Hayzore territory, but upon hearing of their request the town elders upon seeing their seriousness have agreed to help them. Help being relative here as in one case the local shipping lane would be free of the invisible miasma and the threat of the dreaded Shora from the Crystal Island. On the other hand these four blasphemous blowhearts from the Garudan Church’s Empire would be killed by Shora and out of their hair. A win win as far as the elders are concerned.


  “Damned its blinding,” says Ganz as their tiny boat lands on the crystal island.


  The beach is like shattered glass and slippery pearls, rocks made of purple, violet, pink, blue, and white gems, pillars everywhere, and the appearance that all this encased, crystallized, and distorted the native plant life and rock formations at some point.


  “It’s a bit beautiful,” says Ronald.


  “As the book says,” quotes Patrick, “in great beauty lies great danger, be not seduced by shimmers for terrible things lie below.”


   “What is the context of that?” asks Ronald.


  “The crystal palace of the witch Elsa,” says Patrick


    These men have with them rudimentary weapons, not like the iron and steel of their native lands with their islands so large one could stand in the middle and not see any signs of the ocean. Here however they are making do with stone axes, flint pistols, and two swords of bronze that cost them a great deal to buy, which they had to pay in labor as fishermen.


   A maze of glass and gems whose worth puts to shame that of all the kingdoms they have ever set foot in collectively. There is a stillness to this place, expected of the material yet unnerving none the less. The gems show no reflections, bewitched no doubt. Each tries his best to hide their unease to the others both for the sake of machismo and for the sake of the group’s moral. They are few, less than a handful, not enough to be considered a squad on a mission to face a witch whose description is unlike that of any creature of nature or sorcery they have ever encountered before in a land whose very air calls for them to run, to hide, to be as far away from here as they can, to go home to their families, warm beds, and warmer wives.


   A sound, a sound unlike anything they have ever heard before. As best any one of them could hope to describe it would be like that of a busted flute played in tandem with an out of tune stringed instrument of some kind coupled with claws on a slate board and a rabbit’s scream. The source beyond a ridge of pink in a valley below are things, a nest of things whose proper description is lacking in their language, things of light that defy depth and perception of truth. They move if it can be called moving, change in depth and place, and sight, and angle, and luminosity. Peter takes aim with his pistol. Ronald raises his hand giving the signal to lower his arm and be silent. Signaling in their soldier silent code, (Whatever blasphemous beasts these may be, they have not seen us. The Witch is our target.) They back away slowly and continue on their way.


     They thought they had seen all there was to have seen of the highest points of the island from the waves of the sea. Little could they have expected that through the maze of glass and crystal the spires of the island hid between them a ravishing sight; a crystal palace. While not the first temple of crystalline decadence they had witness at the hands of a witch, this one most certainly put all others to shame.


  “No guards,” observes Ganz as they make their way towards the drawbridge that is not but a few inches above water.


   Peter leans down and dips a silver spoon into the water, “its not evil water,” he says as he scoops some up and puts it to his lips, “however it is salt water.”


  Peter shakes off the spoon before putting it back in his pouch, “this is most odd.”


  Weary of their surroundings the four men make their way into the Crystal Palace. Walls of polished diamond, jade, aquamarine, pink rose ruby, and a thousand others to challenge the northern heavenly lights in their beauty. These four men, these trained hunters of the dark and wicked blasphemous things regard this not as beauty or craft but rather as blasphemy; an attempt by a hideous thing to mock the heavens and challenge god.


   “Pitiful” says Ronald after dispatching a small glowing bat like thing made of light with his iron sword, the beast vanishes in blue flames upon being struck.


  The halls have little to challenge them, it is if the power of Garudan were with them, that or the strange glowing and geometric beasts of this place are weak against iron. That is there is little to challenge them till they hit a large room with massive gears on one side and a door on the far end with three lights above it. A red light is showing now. As they start a bell chimes, a most unusual thing for bells are regarded as holy and ward away demons back in Marigland. The floor starts to open down the middle from door to door; the door they entered closing, the floor revealing a pit of spikes.


   “Run!,” orders Ronald.


  As they run along one side, three of the men don’t notice that Colonel Ganz has gone down the other towards the massive now turning gear. It is clear they will not make it across the room before the pit is too wide to reach the door, that is until it suddenly stops with a *jerk*. Ganz has shove his axe into the gear, however it is still pulling.


  “Go!” shouts Ganz, the other three men make a run for it to the doorway, just in time before the floor jerks a little more. The gear pulls on the axe, pulling Ganz into the gear, the sound of crunching bones and blood. From their vantage point he is up to his shoulder into the gear propping it open. It looks like he is holding it so they could make it. They want to shout to him to let it go and run; but they know better. He is not so much holding the gear as he is jamming it with his still breathing corpse. They turn silently thanking their comrade for his sacrifice in their mission for the great holiness. As they start to turn a sickening crunch and then the sound of the gear continuing.


     They nearly jump as the door behind them flies shut. Inside the door they hear a horrific sound, fire and a roar. It was not merely a trap, it was an overkill trap, a pit of spikes, no exit and some horrible monster. It is a witch they want and no amount of curiosity would bring them to push the rather large and obvious door release button on their side, even as they hear a voice, “Defeat Me and the Doors Shall Open!”, a none sentient demonic beast repeating lines designed into it to give the impression of intelligence.  Some horror designed to either kill or weaken any party that would come to challenge the witch of the Crystal Island.




     Before them are many more fiendish beasts that would mysteriously burst into blue flames when slain, and more traps, yet none as diabolical as the one that took Ganz from them. This place wears thin on their patience, why, why are there treasure chests filled with weird potions and bobbles as if to assist them sitting at the ends of hallways and in the numerous empty rooms. They can’t hold so much stuff, nor do they attempt to as no doubt any treasure in such a place is merely a thing of evil or a trap set by the demonic beast further in. Peter is holding back, his pistol short of ammo, using it to reach strange high set buttons to open doors and let down bridges in this crystal labyrinth.


    Finally, after what feels like an eternity of puzzles and adversaries they reach a large door decorated with the image of a naked woman holding, and possibly sexually fondling several overly long eels wrapped around her body.


  “Disgusting,” remarks Patrick just before the door opens and an echoing woman’s voice says,


“come in, come in, come in my prey, sacrifice yourselves to Shora.”


  The men nod, weapons drawn and step in. While the door had opened slowly, as stone over stone, it manifests behind them anew as if born from light. The room is a white cliff in front of a deep well, like a glacier at the edge of the sea. Behind the pit and on all sides are steep ice like cliff faces going up to an opening that shows a crescent moon; even though by Patrick’s calculations it should be only mid-day by now. A stench comes over them, like rotted fish as the walls and floor shake.


  Ronald barely has time to say *shit* before a massive blue eel shoots up from a pit of water before them. Its mouth opens and shakes about gurgling as if choking on something. The flesh peels back and the jaw breaks ripping and melting into the flesh of the body as a giant woman’s torso emerges from the sickly sight of the melting head from between the jaws. Her skin is like the eels, her breasts covered in unnatural carp like scales as though censored, somehow in the blink of an eye she gains a coral crown and an ornate silver trident adorned with jewels.


  “You have survived the challenges of the Crystal Island, adventurers!” shouts Shora, “although it has been many an age before a man of this world has come so far on my island, you will be shown no mercy!”


  “We are here to kill you, you crazy blasphemous witch!” yells up Patrick, “for Garudan and our fallen you will stain Garudan’s world with your presence no longer!”


  Shora smiles, a mouth filled with shark like teeth down at her would be slayers and laughs through her teeth.


  Peter is the first to die as lightning from the trident strikes him dead in one blow. Patrick makes a run with his sword only to be attacked by a swarm of flying demonic fish from the pool that drag him in. Below the witch’s body the pool is stained red. In such a short amount of time two of the most well trained and experienced witch hunters in all of Marigland are brutally killed. Ronald hardly has time to pray as he raises his sword before he sees lightning flash around the trident again.


  Then there is light, a shattering sound like breaking glass and the horrified shriek of the monster witch Shora. She retreats into her pool as a beam of holy light descends down the vaulted chamber encompassing Ronald. He is raised from the vault like a soul from perdition, out of the den of evil into the light. He is released on the roof above the chamber, and hides his eyes before him is an Eangel, a bird headed and winged messenger of the most holy of holy, those who with but a glance of their grace can slay the demons and witches.


  “Child of light,” says the Eangel, “Hide not your face, for only evil need look away from the holy grace. I…*gak!###*”


   Ronald looks, he sees not a holy light and shine as he had a second before, instead he sees a bird gasping blood, a horrified expression as its body no brighter or dimmer than that of a mortal contorts in pain. By reflex he throws himself back from such close proximity, a few steps is all it would take to see what has occurred. A blade, a double edged broad sword blacker than any darkness or oil he had ever seen, with glowing red hour glass runes along its sides that fail to illuminate the surface of the blade is sticking through the angel’s body, its blood pouring onto the crystal palace. The holder of the blade is a woman, somehow familiar yet he is sure he has never seen her before. A woman with a stature like a stature, wearing tight and skin revealing black clothes without shame, her hair long and the shade of blood, her face…flashes in his mind the face of the Queen of the Abyss, her transformations into red and blue versions of herself, this…is her…and she has.


  The angel grasps the blade, cutting its talon like hand and throws its self forward off the blade lumping on the polishes surface before Ronald. It looks up at him with a sorrowful expression, and then a determined one, shaking its head. It blinks a glowing aura as though flexing a muscle of light that has become injured. It stands, barely able, and turns. Before it can speak as it opens its blood stained beak the woman lops off its head with a single swing. Her sword vanishes faster than the blink of the eye, he swears however he saw it move back into some darkness but it was too fast to tell. The woman takes the head from mid-air in the same motion and tosses it into the pit before turning to speak to Ronald.




   Many months later in the castle of Merigland a letter arrives for the general from Ronald.


    Letter of Ronald:


[I’m done,

This will be my final report, please do me this one final honor and do not try to find me. I plan to retreat to some corner of this world as far removed from the Hayzore, the Church of Garudan, and Witches as I can; I want no part in what is coming. I would suggest you do the same, however I know you are too pious to do so. I doubt you will believe what I am about to write here, but I have to write it, if only to get it out of my head and spare my sanity.


   My men are dead, killed by a thing the likes of which I had never seen before, even putting seeing Eckraick himself to shame. A monster on an island made of crystal, horrors were there, picked my men off one by one till only I remained. I prayed for salvation in my darkest hour as the demon witch Shora was prime to devour me, an angel came…and then so did she.


   Remember this name well my friend for if my letter arrived in a timely manner you may have some warning, if not, I am sorry; for she is the true devil, Rhulan, she is the Queen of the Abyss, the horror released by the Witch of the North Woods. I saw,


    I saw, //////////////


   Blasphemy, I saw blasphemy that cannot be, I saw an angel die. An angel was killed before my very eyes. One moment the blessed thing is turning the demon witch away, sending her slithering back into the murky waters of her lair, the next the angel is impaled upon a sword blacker than pitch and smoother than silk. Angel’s blood spilled in the water my friend, killed as easily as a man upon a sword would be. How I survived, I believe so only to write this letter, a pawn, a messenger to herald her arrival. I am sorry my friend, it is for that reason I beg you to not send anyone to look for me. I will try to live a good and peaceful life, maybe raise a family, I will pray for you, and everyone in Merigland, pray that Rhulan is merciful, for I fear the sky will rain with the blood of the angels. ]

#2402 Rhuen


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Posted 09 April 2014 - 06:54 PM

a race from Aesperia's past:



Name: “Super” Goblins


Type: Mammal (Humanoid)


Average Life Span: 75 years


Habitat: Lived through out the northern hemisphere of Aesperia.


Description: Three foot tall grey, brown, or tan colored skin, pointed ears, longer than average for a human nose, strong jaws, bald heads and hairless bodies. Wore clothing of various fashions.


History and Abilities:

    This race appeared during a now forgotten age of Aesperian evolution, in the two million years between the Mystical Cataclysm and the Arrival of the Aesperias, this world had actually evolved new sentient races; which isn’t hard to imagine as the bestial were mutations of humans for the most part. This was more a return of sentient life. At this time however most humanoid races were still animal like in intelligence or else aggressive; unfortunately the few races that regained a sentient mindset were all small in body and relatively weak compared to most creatures so remained isolated and kept to cavern cities and such for defense. The Goblins who called themselves the (Kachika), as well as the rabbit like (Chokota), the brownies called themselves (Gelf), the humanoid frog like (Pixins), and the Fox People of Nipponia called themselves the (Hanaba).


  The Kachika and Chokota became the most widespread, with the most cities and civilizations. They would clash from time to time, and both races were nearly wiped out by the “Metal Devils” which were un-earthed (Precursor robotic and bio-mechanical weaponry, did not recognize either race as human: Kachika *Goblins* are mutated from other Great Apes, and the Chokota mutated from rabbits).


  After the Metal Devils returned to their sleep, were destroyed, or left, the Chokota were left as the dominant race and the Kachika back to the fringes. Centuries later they were at the brink of war again as the Kachika wanted back their ancestral land they believe the Chokota stole, and the metal devil thing was just a fairy tale. During this time period the bio-mechanical Andros were awakened and these smarter ones were manipulating both sides to try and get them to wipe each other out, as they detected other races as being of human descent and concluded they couldn’t re-evolve into the dominant sentient species of Earth with these other two in the way. The end result was a plague, or plagues both sides developed, that ended up merging together as all three sides were being manipulated by another force that wanted them all gone. This plague even affected the bio-mechanical Andros race, turning most into mindless monsters, the rest fled the planet. The Pixins (frog people) were wiped out by the plague, most of the Hanaba and Gelf also died off, the few survivors fled into their underground cities and locked themselves away from what they thought was a dying world *their leaders were told this by what they thought was a goddess (Satasar). The Chokota are thought to have gone extinct, while some fled beyond the rim of the world, the Kachika had the strangest reaction mutating into giant (to them) multi-colored mindless monsters (what would come to be called Goblins by the Aesperians).


   The Magi-Goblins were close to recovering this old form. The Existence of the “Super Goblins” was discovered in the form of ruins, the confusing idea of a goblin civilization, with a pictograph left behind showing them mutating into giant brainless brutes that attacked those that didn’t mutate. Research to unlock the Super Goblin form of the Goblins has been met with many draw backs, one being that the plague was not a normal disease but a gene connecting one; it has written its self into their very DNA. Trying to return them to “normal” only kills them, or is short lived as the new smarter version reverts back to a regular goblin as the disease kicks in. This three way retrovirus was clearly carefully designed by the outside party and made into three connecting parts to fool the three waring factions, to erase civilization from the world.

#2403 Rhuen


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Posted 10 April 2014 - 04:38 PM

A mystic monster:


Name: Twi Ursa Croc


Type: Monster (Reptile / Mammal hybrid)


Average Life Span: Indefinite (artificial being)


Habitat: Appear from green portals in temporate mountain regions.


Description: A two headed grizzly bear with alligator scales and scutes instead of fur. Has an alligator tail; the tail splits into a fork near the end.


History and Abilities:

These are mid-level monsters that have the physical strength of a grizzly bear and attack anything living that comes near them. They rely almost completely on physical strength and alligator defenses. Rarely one of these may be able to spit out duel fire breaths, such individuals are indeed rare however and thought to only be rumors on some worlds.

#2404 Rhuen


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Posted 15 April 2014 - 01:15 PM

story time:


Conquest of Espara ch.07




    Garigland, an equatorial nation of ten islands; her princess Mary was raised since childhood in the old ways, the worship of the wind, the waves, the forests, and the drinking stones of faith. Raised to be a priestess to the shadow queen, the goddess that symbolizes fate, death, birth, fertility, and the deep mysterious sea. Among her many duties was to be a guardian of the secret treasure of the royal family and head of the matriarchal priesthood. Deep in the castle is a treasure room, in the center is a golden treasure chest, with numerous seals magically painted on it that glow and fade in a pattern said to be both hiding and preventing the escape of its contents.


   That is until Mary’s father, the king, died, and with him the old ways. Her uncle is a convert of the Garudan faith, taking the throne immediately following the king’s death from a tragic illness he rejected the old ways and proclaimed them illegal; all would follow the new faith from the north. He had gone to Merigland a few years prior as an ambassador seeking trade and good relations. A stipulation of trade was the founding of a Garudan church in Garigland and appointment of a priest. Who could have known the prince had converted so fully, and the serendipity of a fatal disease that only afflicted the king putting him in charge; he called it tragic fate and the unknowable will of Garudan.


  Mary’s attire changed from her priestly robes of revealing silk to stuffy dresses that killed in this climate. Her status from respected member of the castle and held on high to a lowly position of a lady in waiting; to be wed to a count in but a few short months to better relations with a like minded nation. She prays, prays for guidance from the goddess, prays for release from her torments.



  “I hear you,” a woman’s whisper, grabs Mary’s attention as she prays by the bedside. She looks around but no one is there.


  “Forced faith,” the whisper comes from the shadows on the wall flickering in the candle light, “you will be sent away as a payment, you who were to be a priestess, you who were to someday be queen as your mother before you. This king has no right to be king, your mother should be queen; soldiers from Merigland back your uncle’s words and actions, forcing his worldview upon you all.”


  “Please,” whispers Mary through teary eyes, “do not tease me spirits,”


  “I do not tease,” comes the voice plain as day in the room.

 Mary looks around standing.


  “I am your liberator,” says the voice


 “A…a demon?” asks Mary


 Rhulan appears in the middle of the room, “I have killed demons and angels alike. The god of this new faith is flesh and blood, just like you, and I.”


  Rhulan steps forward, “A living god, as I am a living goddess. However,” she twists her wrist and with a flick of the hand Mary’s attire changes to that of the priestess she was trained to be, “I am the liberator of your culture, I am not a deity of worshipped forced faith, I am an Empress, a ruler, I govern, your faith is your own.”


  “The Queen of Shadows,” whispers Mary.


  “Excuse me?” asks Rhulan.


 “I…mean,” says Mary, “if you are telling the truth then…why are you…here?”


  “An astute young lady,” says Rhulan, “another would have simply thought I was answering their prayers. Very good, and very well, I am here for my cape.”


  Mary’s eyes shoot open, “I…wha…what do you mean?”


 Rhulan conjures up a magic window showing a battle long ago, in the battle as she was being sealed her cape was taken from her and sealed separately for fear she could use its powers to free herself from the Eldritch Seal. Placed in a trunk and put here in this land. Over time the protectors of the trunk becoming its guardians and worshipping the effect the trunk has on the landscape, creating abundant riches of life on the island.


  “My power,” says Rhulan vanishing the window, “Show me where specifically my cape is and I will replace the spell with another, to continue its good fortune.”


  “We really don’t have a choice do we,” says Mary sitting down on her bed.


  “Do not think me threatening you child,” says Rhulan.


  “No,” says Mary, “I know my goddess, I know that the men from Merigland plan to take the trunk. I was told by my…” she looks away as she says, “ex virginal maidens of the temple,”


  She looks at her hands, “the men from Merigland plan to take the trunk away, as a heathen demonic artifact, to be taken to the church of Garudan in Merigland and destroyed.”


  “Not that they could,” says Rhulan almost dismissing the concern, “but that would bring calamity to what would naturally be desert island; what with the very low rain fall around here; surely your ancestors picked up on that not exactly coinciding with the abundant forests and crop yields on these islands.”


  Rhulan smiles, “So then my dear priestess,” She holds out her hand, “we have a deal?”


  Mary stands, holds the hand and bows placing her forehead to Rhulan’s hand, “Yes, Queen of Shadows, protector of the fertility of this island, I swear as your priestess.”


  Rhulan *shrugs* and smiles.


  A simple matter to retrieve the cape, as the human mind can be tricked so easily to not see, to not hear, to not smell, or care as two women pass the guards, such simple enchantments on such weak minded fools. Mary had thought perhaps opening the trunk would be trickier but what she saw removed any doubt of this woman’s divinity; for there were tales of demon and witches who had tried similar tricks to get to the trunk only be burned by its divine power upon touching it. This woman laid her hand on the trunk and the chains holding it snapped, the light flowed into her hand, and up into her mouth, drunk away. Rhulan stands and *snaps* her fingers and the last lock breaks; the cape flies free and connects to her shoulders, held on by magic and a simple clasp.


  “Now I don’t feel so naked,” says Rhulan.


  Mary bows again before Rhulan, “You truly are the Queen of Shadows.”


  “Please,” says Rhulan, “just call me Empress Rhulan.”


   As Rhulan approaches Mary, Mary does not see the spell Rhulan weaves, but she does see that they are both in the old temple, beyond the boarded up doors and window, the walls stripped bare of their ancient gold ornaments, all melted down to make Garudan charms and coins, the only thing really left the red cushion of the alter. Rhulan hops onto the couch like alter and sits there looking about the room.


  Mary looks around both saddened and amazed, saddened by the state of the temple and that her goddess should see it as such, and amazed by the divine power, Garudan charms are even on the doors yet Rhulan’s magic shows no concern for them.


  Rhulan claps her hand and the candles are lit by floating lights brighter than any candle flame, gold ornaments adorn the walls, not like those that were there before, new ones, in strange symbols and imagery, including a winded reptilian beast she has never seen before and clawed serpents with whiskers like whips, among a plethora of tentacle faced things and stained glass depicting Rhulan, a woman with blue flames for hair, a woman like Rhulan but so pale with long black dresses and hair, and so many others.


  “Sit up here,” says Rhulan.


 “I..I couldn’t” says Mary.

 Rhulan hops down and in a blink Mary finds herself sitting on the alter. Rhulan is standing there with her hand on Mary’s abdomen, a sickening warmth as a strange symbol appears there.


  “What…” says Mary, “this feels…”


  “Not my doing,” says Rhulan, “that symbol is a lock, placed on all of womankind on this world by Garudan. He hears the magic within humanity, strongest on Espara in women, this is why he calls it evil, why he declares any who would practice it condemned to death, and yet this false god has played a nasty trick.”


  She takes her hand away, “have you heard of how women become witches?”


  “Y…yes,” says Mary, “I…” she about tears up, “My mother couldn’t claim the throne out of fear, my uncle accused her of bedding a demon to gain its powers so she could be a heathen priestess. She had to publically renounce…renounce you…to save her life…and mine.”


  “Yes,” continues Rhulan in a lecture like tone, “a woman has sex with a demon, through the act the demon is in fact taking the magic from the woman, channeling it through its self, and proclaiming it is giving the woman power from the demon, when in reality…” she stops and gestures to Mary.


  Mary *sniffs*, “the…the demon is giving us back our own…magic?”


  “Indeed,” says Rhulan, “Garudan sealed the magic, a seal passed down through generations from the ancient sorceresses who would fight as equals alongside men in the ancient days of adventuring on this…particular world. It has slowly worked its way into this reality, weakening the people until now when so few exist with the power to threaten it and its kind.”


  “I can break the seal,” says Rhulan, “permanently, so that it is gone from you, and any children you may have in the future, erased from your bloodline from here forth.”


  Mary puts her hand on her abdomen, “I…”, “she remembers the power Rhulan wielded, the holy light absorbed, manifestations,  “yes my goddess.”


  “Lie back,” says Rhulan.


  As Mary lies back Rhulan parts the silken vestments from Mary’s lower body and places her left hand on her abdomen, the seal appears, that sickening warmth.


  “and now I shall remove it, lie still.” Rhulan blows towards the candles, they dim, most fading away completely. She licks her index finger on her right hand and reaches down, parting Mary’s vaginal lips. Mary bites her lip, she has never felt anything go into that opening before. Rhulan swirls her finger about, Mary’s breath becomes heavier as a sensation like needing to pee rises.


  “It’s a natural sensation,” says Rhulan, “unique to women, now to release the seal!”


 In that moment Rhulan crooks her finger pushing against Mary’s G-spot while also shooting magic deep into her body erasing the seal. Mary *screams* as the first orgasm in her life overcomes her. Mary sits up huffing, and watches as Rhulan licks her finger clean.


  “I…peed,” says Mary looking at the wet cushion.


  “Female ejaculate,” corrects Rhulan, “natural juices of womanhood, a bit salty but tasty none the less.”



  A *banging* comes at the temple doors. Rhulan scowls and waves her hand in the air, a blue light covers the walls.


  “A barrier,” says Rhulan, “should they remove the boards they will find entrance impossible for three days at least, but let’s take this to someplace we won’t be disturbed.”


   She gestures in the air and they both vanish in a blue light, appearing again in Mary’s room.


  “Your magic is unsealed,” says Rhulan, “it will take you time to learn how to channel and control it, become my student and…”


  Mary has become fascinated by her pussy, as she sits on her bed shivering as she fingers the slick edges.


  “Virginal priestesses,” says Rhulan rolling her eyes, “here,”


  Mary can barely let out a “wait” as Rhulan dives down, head between Mary’s legs her mouth engulfing Mary’s clit, a feeling nearly as great as before in the temple. Rhulan’s talented tongue and ageless experience stimulating the clit, the labia, and every nook and cranny of Mary’s nether folds in ways that must be divine. Mary despite her view of this being goddess between her legs can’t help but hold onto Rhulan’s head as her pussy is lapped and cleaned of its spilling juices, by an unnaturally long tongue. Rhulan releases the dripping pussy from her oral manipulations and climbs on top of Mary.


  Mary is breathing heavy, her eyes glazing over in untold pleasures of the flesh. She reaches up to wrap her arms around Rhulan as Rhulan shares the flavor of Mary’s own pussy on her tongue, teaching the nubile young woman the techniques of the mouth and strengths of the tongue.


  Rhulan lets go, as Mary whispers, “My goddess, please, I…should…be…pleasuring you.”


  Rhulan smiles as she says, “After I have taught you my dear the secrets of making love to a woman, you may have all of my nectar you can handle.”


  Rhulan returns to their embrace as she exposes Mary’s erect nipple and pinches it, teaching the novice of the carnal pleasures a new trick, one she was granted mildly aware of thanks to her rubbing garments but not to such an extent.


  That night they lied together, Rhulan’s cape like a blanket over the two women as they made love through the night.




   The bells ring, awakening all in the castle, the bells that call all to the throne room at once. So early, and one of those awakened is the king himself.


  “Who dares!?” screams the king as he enters the throne room, the Lady Queen following, the guards by the king’s side, along with two guests a high priest and a witch hunter from Merigland.


  Inside is a strange scene, a woman in flesh revealing tight black clothing, her midsection, cleavage, and arms exposed, her frame leaving nothing to the imagination, with a black cape with red inner lining over her back sitting in the king’s throne. A throne that sits above several steps raising it above the floor. Sitting on one of the higher steps is Mary, dressed in her priestess robes, her arm around Rhulan’s boot.


  “What…what is this madness!?” demands the king.


  “I am Empress Rhulan!” she announces as she pets Mary’s hair, “You may know me as the Queen of Shadows!”


  The Lady Queen, Mary’s mother *gasps*.


  “Lies,” says the high priest, “clearly this is a witch who seeks to usurp your kingdom.”


  The witch hunter steps forward and produces a silver Garudan amulet, “Begone witch, By Garudan, and the angels of heaven I…a…*ahk*”


   The amulet has freed its self from his grasp, its chain wrapped around his throat. Rhulan makes another gesture and the amulet flies across the room into her hand.


  “Impossible!” yells out the high priest while the witch hunter *coughs* on the floor, “you…you can’t touch that!”


   “Wood burns,” says Rhulan, “water floods, lightning strikes, the wind blows down the temple walls. I am the elements.”


  She grasps the amulet in her hand, which glows violet, as she sings, “Power if the Heavens, Strength of the Earth, Flow as the water, Passion of the flame, this is the magic, of my Astral Frame.”



  She throws back the amulet which seeks out and hits the witch hunter in the face. He picks up while *growling*, the amulet has changed, no longer the charm of Garudan it has become a squid with wings.


  Rhulan pats Mary’s head, she smiles and stands herself one step below her goddess.


 “I say again,” announces Rhulan in a thunderous voice, “I am Empress Rhulan, and I am your new ruler! By my proclamation you may worship whatever you see fit; but know this I am the enemy of the false hell and false heaven perpetuated by the monster you call Garudan and his brother Eckraick!”


  “Vile evil,” says the king even as the high priest has been struck dumb holding the changed amulet.


  “Silver tongue that speaks lies,” says Rhulan, “living tongue obey the truth.”


  “I am king!” yells out the king, “By Garudan’s will I murdered that heathen who was on the throne!”


  He stops, wide eyed, both surprised he said that out loud, and by the odd echo of his voice coming from outside.


  Rhulan smiles, “Projection, a simple technique for speaking to the masses.”

 Mary points at the king, “guards take him away! Take away Calvert, traitor to the crown!”


 The guards don’t budge.


 “I don’t think so,” says Calvert, “guards take the witch behind me into custody.”


  They grab the Lady Queen.


  “Release me,” she says, “You men served my husband did you not?”


 “I am king!” growls Calvert, “So what if I killed my brother, that heathen Brutus, he would have had all of his sent to hell with his heathen ways.”


  “Oh right,” says Rhulan, “totally forgot, but here before a witch hunter, a high priest, I think a scribe just stepped in through the door with the growing crowd coming down the hall, and all the people outside hearing us, now is as good as time as any to officially declare war on hell and heaven and release all those held wrongly by their heinous spell placed on this planet.”


  Mary steps back, looking at Rhulan as a blue wind surrounds Rhulan, levitating her off the floor.


  “By the strength of Chaykonakashi I breach the walls of hell, beyond the veil of eternal flame to that which is a mockery I open forth the false gate upon this world!”


  A red beam shoots at the floor, just above it a swirling red vortex form. Horrible screams and demonic howls can be heard. Mary steps back, nearly behind the throne, the guards try to push back.


  “Now for the good part,” says Rhulan looking back at Mary, “you’ll want to see this.”


  She raises her hand, “By the holy light of Maekonakarae, judge of heaven, mother of peace,”


  A blue sigil appears above the vortex, as she continues, “By your true judgment, RELEASE ALL SOULS HELD UNJUSTLY RELEASE THEM FROM PERDITION!”


  Her voice echoes through the wind, the stone, the very souls as a blue light blasts from the sigil into the vortex. Throughout the Hell of Eckraick, the blue and white light surges filling every crevice of the inferno subterranean labyrinth. Souls, thousands, tens of thousands of souls, all who had died in the last three hundred years whose only sin was not worshipping Garudan in the lands ruled by his faith are lifted from the abyss, intangible to the demons that try to grab them. Eckraick himself unable to grab onto the scribe released from the dark room of the library. The scribe laughs as he is lifted up, “Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! I told you devil! It is her! Her power dwarfs hell! We are free! Free! Freeee!” he laughs as he holds his arms up and moves into the light.


  In the castle back in Garigland, Rhulan reaches into the light with her bare hand and pulls from it the ghost of king Brutus, Mary’s father.


  Brutus looks around, at his own clear blue hands, and down at the red vortex as it closes, the beam of light gone, the blue sigil moves up, yet remains by the ceiling.


  He looks back at his daughter standing by the throne, at the strange woman who pulled him from the choir light, and over at his wife being held by his own guards and yells, “Release the queen at once!”


  The guards on reflex release her and she runs beside the ghost of her late husband.


 “Brutus…I mean,” she curtsies, “King,”


  “What stifling northern nonsense are you wearing?” he asks.


 The queen can’t help but laugh, the same abrupt man she married so long ago.


 The ghost of the king glares at his brother, “traitor,” he growls and glares also at the high priest and witch hunter. He turns and sees Rhulan.


  “Father,” says Mary speaking for the first time, her eyes teary.


 “My daughter,” says the deceased king of this land, “what has happened?”


 She smiles, “May I present, her majesty, Empress Rhulan, the Queen of Shadows, Goddess of Fertility, the Deep Mysteries of the Sea, Life, Death, and True Magic!”


  “It was you,” says the ghost of the king, “I can see it, the light inside you…”


 His spirit bows before her, “Great Goddess, thank you.”


 The guards bow, as does the scribe, and a number of others who have begun to filter into the throne room. The heavenly sigil opens again, a choir of music beckoning the king’s soul to nirvana.


  Rhulan gestures and the throne room shudders that reveal the throne room to the court below just over a balcony open revealing the courtyard is full of towns people. Rhulan announces, “I have freed all the souls from perdition that were wrongfully imprisoned there by Garudan and Eckraik! I have officially declared war on them both!” She walks out to the balcony so the people can see her, “I am Empress Rhulan!”


  The witch hunter takes out his holy runes imbued blade and lunges at her while screaming,

“Garudan shall not suffer a witch to live!”


  Rhulan spins around, grabs the sword in her bare hand, the blade melting in her grasp. She makes a simple gesture and says, “Atmosphere Throw.” The witch hunter is levitated off the ground and at break neck speeds flies into the sky. If he survived the ascent, let alone the descent, he most certainly did not survive the landing, a body was never found, if one even made it back to the sea or ground.



   Rhulan gestures for the queen and Mary to approach the balcony, “these are your people, your kingdom.”


  “I…I…I…” stammers Calvert, “I…I am still king!”


  He doesn’t make it far before a guard, one of the very ones who had held the queen by his order has stabbed him on a pike, “A true miracle,” whispers the guard.


  The high priest is looking around in a bit of a panic given what has just happened.


  “Should he be executed too,” asks a guard, “…empress.”


  “No,” says Rhulan as Mary and the queen are out on the balcony waving to the applauding people, “this is the kingdom of Queen Tatania and Princess Mary, they make the laws here, no doubt they would have ordered the execution of the traitor,”


  Queen Tatania announces, “We the kingdom of Garigland owe our very freedoms to Empress Rhulan, and announce our allegiance to her and her Empire.”


  “Huh,” says Rhulan, while thinking, “this kingdom joined faster than I expected, better get an official charter written up.”


  “In that case,” says Rhulan, “I pass judgment on this priest.”


  The guards block his way.




   It is a most unexpected judgment given she just threw the other guy into the sky, and opened a portal to hell releasing all the innocent souls held there.


  “Return to your land,” says Rhulan, “tell them what you have seen, and so they will believe you, tell them I am the same Rhulan that the witch hunter…” she pauses a moment remembering something, “oh yes…Ronald was his name, the same one he saw summon a tsunami against Eckraick, the same one who killed an angel before his very eyes.”


   Her eyes glow, “I am Empress Rhulan, The Celestial Sorceress, Goddess of True Magic, tell your god, be afraid for the blood of angels and demons will spill before my might. This world belongs to these people not to idle monsters like them.”


   All who hear her choke back their tears of awe and joy at her words and escort the priest away. The people of Merigland will write of this day, the day the goddess who blessed their island in ancient times returned at their most desperate hour and freed them from the tyrannical rule of an oppressive religious empire who would kill any who turned against them, even murdering their king to put a puppet in his place.

#2405 Rhuen


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Posted 16 April 2014 - 06:01 PM

a mystic Monster:


Name: Holiday Log


Type: Monster (Freak / Wood)


Average Life Span: Indefinite (artificial being)


Habitat: These appear from white portals (which is confusing as these portals normally only spawn light based creatures), and only appear *although they can remain until destroyed after words* during certain months of the year (which for most worlds is just weird as this thing clearly coincides with some alien holiday not native to most worlds). They appear only in temperate forest regions.


Description:  A two foot long smooth log with straight cuts on both ends. One end has a simple cartoon like face (two black dots and black smile), and this end is also wearing a pointed red cap with a white fur trim and white puff ball on the tip of the cap. This end also has two whittled twigs that resemble stilt stands or legs that if this thing were on the ground would tilt the head end up (this thing floats around).


History and Abilities:

These are mid-level strength monsters that tend to target people who consider themselves heroes. They have one attack, they turn around, the back end opens up like a spiral gate and shoots out a tiny colorfully wrapped with a bow on top package. This package explodes upon impact. Due to targeting “heroes” these monsters rarely remain past their season of apperance as hero types make it a point to hunt them down; but sometimes they wander off into the empty wilderness of the mountains as they seem to have no sense of direction or purpose and just harmlessly float around the woods all day and night till coming across a “hero”.

#2406 Rhuen


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Posted Yesterday, 05:44 PM

story time:


Conquest of espara ch.08


   Seven years have passed since Migdra the Witch of the North Woods awoke Rhulan from her dreamlike deathly slumbering imprisonment beneath the sea. In this time Rhulan has seduced, negotiated, and otherwise brought forth an alliance of nations beneath her, an empire, the Hayzore, Garigland, Gorodos, and Marchiock, have all joined her willingly. More would rise on the side of the newly founded, or rather officiated Garudan Church Empire, despite or perhaps because of Rhulan’s initial assault upon Hell its self and the death of an angel the beings on high did not aid the Church Empire directly in the early days of the war the Church declared upon the empire ruled by two empresses. Migdra would find herself a queen, as she was with child, Rhulan’s child; the babe to be named Rhudra.




   The sky rains with the blood of angels, the heavenly host has joined the fray at the holy isle of Isadel. It was here centuries past that the holy covenant of man and Garudan was first enacted. If this were but a conflict between human worshippers of Garudan the heavenly host would not dare intervene. As things stand the wooden ships and gunpowder loaded cannon balls of the church do not stand a chance against the five great witches that surround the island with their monstrous forms and terrible magic.


   Shora the giant blue eel woman smashes ships beneath her bulk and summons prismatic fiends to assault the crews, their glittering one dimensional wings slicing apart the seamen. Her trident’s thunderbolts sinking the ships in a blaze on the south side of the island.


   Gala a monstrous red crab with a bare breasted four-armed giantess where the face should be makes landfall on the west side with an army of frog-fish and lobster shelled men and woman beasts from the deep and her brine swamp island, fire that burns water flies from her claws, acid bubbles from her lower hands, and lightning spheres from her upper hands. Her laugh brings madness to the church defenders, they become helpless or else turn on their own screaming that the truth has been revealed to their bleeding ears and eyes.



   Amarela a monster resembling how Rhulan had appeared upon awakening attacks the eastern side of the island, only made of red tentacles, numerous in number beneath the red skinned woman with a tentacle for a tongue. The titan of tentacle filled horrors stays off shore, reaching beneath the surface with her ever infinity branching tentacles attacking, violently raping the men while killing others beside them as her howling mad laugh drives some to strip bare their armor and weapons to join her at sea, met by her army of tentacle backed mermaids that take the men as their brides beneath the waves.


  Ehmorphin attacks the northern shore, the most guarded of the shores with high stone walls where the church sits upon the hill where the convenant was made. They are the least fortunate of those facing the five witches as Ehmorphin is a mass of blue slime, coming ashore as a tsunami of destruction engulfing the soldiers. Restful Death is not what awaits them, those who fall in the body of Ehmorphin rise as her army of the undead, meat eaten away by her digestive juices they are bones and tattered armor filled with slime that turns from blue to green as it holds the bones in place becoming entities unto themselves; the bone riders. They march up the hill, those who fall bitten, their flesh melts under green slime devouring their flesh, to rise as new soldiers of Ehmorphin.


   A fifth witch, Fantella soars through the waves around the island, a mermaid with the body of a dolphin, the skin of a dolphin over the humanoid aspect as well. With her an army of ethereal oceanic nightmares seek out the approaching ships come to reinforce those near the island, soaring through them like torpedoes if living yet ghostly terrors. She conjures up whirlpools to swallow ships hole, the land born humans that survive defenseless to the things of the deep.


   When all seemed lost, that the temple should fall to the heathen beasts the sky opens with a heavenly light, a legion of feathered glorious beings descends from the clouds, holding pikes, swords, tridents, scythes, and more weapons than the people below have names for. Surely now the witches shall fall, the island saved, as the light burns the fiends, turns back the nightmares to the sea, releases the minds of those who remain alive and above the waves.


  *A crack of red lightning* and the sky above reveals a massive red sigil. The light is gone, half the heavenly host that had arrived falls into the sea, dead, those who were high enough to be caught in the wake of her arrival. Not all sea her, she is but a single woman standing in the sky, Rhulan has joined the fray. Not all hear her cry of , “Eldritch Crystal Barrage!”, but its outcome is obvious for the blood of angels rains from the sky. Black shards that defy dimensions shred through space, the air is violated by their presence, light its self bleed in their passing, the angels that sliced to pieces, the shards seek them out, soaring through the air guided by a hate filled will. What would have been hope becomes despair.



    The Witches themselves and their minions cease their assault, as the soldiers that remain watch the sky in agonized faith. Not all the angels fall in this initial assault, three or four massive forms, white feathered multi- bird headed dragons of marble flesh survive the Eldritch Crystals. A black streak with a  red aura can be seen from the ground below, Rhulan encased in a violent fiery red aura, her arms covered and transformed by shadow claws as smooth as dark ink, glowing with ebony light shreds through their flesh. Explosions shake the sky as the ancient sorceress unleashes terrible spells that break off bloody chunks of her opponents, their golden beams of light accomplishing nothing as the air around them ripples, absorbing the lights preventing them from reach earth. Rhulan laughs as she soars free of the bubble, she had distracted and maimed the four flying behemoths, preventing them from knowing to escape as the bubble becomes cohesive, a blue sphere and contracts with such force as to crush the four angelic nightmares into a single bloody mass.


  She moves the great sphere over the island and releases it. A mighty torrent of blood rains down upon the stone temple, nearly drowning its occupants, tables, tapestries, flooded and brushed about by the all too mortal blood of the supposed divine.


   In stunned silence the survivors hear the projected thunderous voice of Rhulan, “Baptized in the blood of angels, I claim this land for the Mystic Empire!”


  The clouds form her face, lighting her eyes and inside of her mouth, “To those who survive, surrender and you shall live, citizens of the Empire with all the rights and privileges, in the instant you surrender you shall be encased in a sphere of protection, protected from the violent retribution of those around you. Those who do not surrender, will die instantly in the next three minutes.


   On that day the high priest of the temple saw several horrible sights, the greatest of which is own elite paladins surrendering and becoming encased in blue spheres, these specks of light popped up all over the island, not just from soldiers, but the inhabitants of the island, many of whom fathers, brothers, and sons were conscripted by the church to fight laid down their arms. True to her word the spheres were protected from their overly zealot fellow soldiers who had fought beside them and seen the same nightmares unfold. The face in the cloud opens its mouth and a blue flash comes over the island, it does not burn. The women and children innocent even if not surrendering were spared, those encased were spared, even the high priest in the blood soaked tower of the temple praying to Garudan for protection was spared, all others were not, in this single flash they became wood, turned to trees and shrubs of human form, forests of stricken terror.




   The high priest would have belittled his unfaithful men if not for in that instant Rhulan herself standing before him, stepping not in but on the blood soaked floor; the walls, floor, and even parts of the ceiling stained by the blood of the flying behemoths. With a single gesture she forces the man to his knees, paralyzed in position. Her hand glowing blue she places on his head, he sees the entire battle, from every front, from the eyes of every man who fought and died, their final thoughts, their final fears, their hopes and dreams killed all in the name of protecting mere stone and mortar in the name of Garudan.


   It is written that the priest’s final words before pledging his allegiance to Rhulan and begging forgiveness from the goddess was, “What sort of man could hope to fight against the sea and sky turned against him. What sort of man would then deny that these are the true masters of our world.”




   The laughter of a seven year old girl, her jet black hair tied up in buns by her nursemaids as she runs about her playroom. She is happy, giddy as only a child could be, as she has heard the good news, her father is home from the war.


  “Daddy!” yells out the girl running to the arms of the person walking into the playroom, she is held tight in her father’s hairless toned arms, against her father’s black shadow cloth clad ample bosom.


  “My little girl,” says Rhulan happily, “you been good?”


  “Yeppers!” says Rhudra all smiles, “hey mommy!”


  Migdra, wearing a white and black royal gown is standing behind Rhulan, smiling silently as the daughter she gave birth to prances about happily upon Rhulan setting her down after their big hug.


  “Daddy has a present for you,” says Rhulan presenting a strange object foreign to this world, “a teddy bear,”


  Rhudra gives it a big hug, “I love it!”


  “and,” says Rhulan surprising her, “as you are getting older I have this for you as well,”


  Migdra is shocked as Rhulan produces from her cape a book, a book of magic.


  “You are my daughter,” says Rhulan handing her the book, “there is great magic within you, waiting to come out, and I am going to teach you.”


  Rhudra holds the book and the teddy bear wide eyed, “does this mean…”


  Rhulan smiles, “yeppers baby, daddy is going to stay home for a good long while now.”


  She pats Rhudra on the head, “now go play little one, daddy needs to go take a bath and discuss some things with mommy.”


  Rhudra smiles and runs along with the nurse maid.


  Migdra stands there in the hall and whispers, “magic..*mmph!*”


 Rhulan grabs her up and plants a big long wet kiss in her mouth. When Rhulan releases her she would say something but that look, even as Rhulan holds Migdra against her bosom, she has that look Migdra has seen so many times, that mysterious sadness of a look of far away in thought as she looks at Rhudra’s door. A look she has hidden from Rhudra as best she could, yet appears upon her brow so often, when asked by Migdra all Rhulan will say is it’s a lamentation of long ago, I do not intend to make the same mistakes again.


  Even without prompting here she says it, “I do not intend to make the same mistakes again.”


 As she holds Migdra, arm around her waist more like a comfort pillow than a wife, some Migdra has come to expect in moments like this, “Seven years, yet again, in seven years I have been this distant figure in our daughter’s life, fighting idiotic men, and redicilous monsters to convert witches and kingdoms…it is strong enough, no…it is not…no…”


   She looks at Rhudra’s door and gets a serious expression as she lets go of Migdra, “I want guards with contact spells AND devices here at all times. The true enemy has made its move, I do not trust them to not move against our child to get at us. She will be strong, a power so great that the very notion of moving against her directly would be no more entertained than moving against me directly.”


  Rhulan *sighs* and shakes her head, “I need to relax.”


 Migdra smiles she knows where this part of her Empress’s return home routine goes, come back, be dramatic, be forlorn, and then sexy bath time. However just as they turn to head to the bathing hall they hear a nurse maid scream. Faster than a flash Rhulan and Migdra are in the room, the book, a beginner’s guide to magic is open and Rhudra is floating in the room, spinning a little bit.


 Rhulan laughs at the sight, Migdra can’t help herself either, for it was not too long ago when she abandoned the traditional witchcraft of her world and began to learn elementalism that she was in the same spot, although their daughter has already gotten this far right after just reading a few sentences on the concept of levitation.


  “M…mommmy….d….daaadddyyyy,” says Rhudra spinning, “I…I’m….diiizzzzy,”


 Rhulan breaks out laughing completely, “Okay,” she says calming down, she gives the nurse maid a deadly knife look for her alarming scream, nurse knows not what will come of this but she has a few ideas, like being made to service one of the five witches at the worst or just cleaning up the toilets at the lightest depending on the queen’s mood. In the same instant she is all smiles with her daughter, “guess I can relax later, my little girl comes first.”


   Rhulan leans down and holds her arms steadying her, “okay first…”




  -A few months later-


    “I have had enough of this!” yells the Merigland general slamming his fist on the wooden table, next to him the general of Fafnir Island, and the ex-king of Fanatis Island.


  “Where are the reports from the battlefield?!” demands the general to the group of high priests with them.


  “General,” starts one high priest.


  “Right here!” yells the general throwing some scrolls on the table.


  “How did you get those?” demands the highest of the high priests there.


 “How did I get these?” says the general pissed, “How did I…the general of Merigland’s military forces, and chief in charge of the allied nations’ strategic battle planning commission get the reports from the battle fields?”


  “They are blasphemy,” starts the priest.



  “Oh that’s right,” says the general, “We had to STEAL our reports, because you fucking idiots! My apologies, you blind dafffed fools, sticking your heads in the sand and mud are sticking to that ludicrous law of yours that apparently prohibits us…the very military in charge of keeping you alive, from knowing what is happening on the battlefield just because you don’t like it…because it contradicts what you believe.”


  “You don’t believe?” asks the priest.


  “What I believe,” says the general, “is that I…no…we thought we were sending men to back up the local navies to defend Isadel and Fanatis from Hayzore pirates trying to take them over…had we known we were sending men to fight…oh say…giant sea monster witches…we might have

sent some different armaments with them, not to mention…”


  “You will not say it!” commands the high priest standing.


  “Say what?” growls the general standing and staring him the eye, “say what? Tell me priest…say what?”


  The general clutches a scroll, a scout report back from Isadel after no one reported back on the battle, “say what?” growls the general, “say something that will deface the church, or say something that will actually tell us what we are up against?”


   “Tell us,” growls the general, “that Garigland had an army of tree people, flying squid people, and magic, or that Fanatis was attacked by oceanic monsters with angel killing weapons…or best yet, that Isadel fell when this Empress the enemy would speak of showed up and slaughtered angels…”


  The high priest is red in the face and about to speak when,


  “Allies,” comes a voice from a blinding light.


  “Oh holiness,” says the high priest seeing the eagle headed white feathered man creature.


  “Our forgiveness,” says the high priest, “these men…”


  “Are correct,” says the angel, “We are the guardians of the balance, keepers of peace,” says the angel, “and it is true, in our arrogance, as before now we have only faced the damned from below, we sent a host of our warriors to turn back the evil from Isadel. What happened there has shaken heaven, shaken us from our idle position above you.”


   The ex-king of Fanatis is dumbfounded, even though not a week prior he had seen these angels killed by black weapons held by monsters.


  “This is a desperate situation,” says the angel, “Garudan feels your fears, do not lose faith in Garudan children, for even the evil from another world is no match for the true power of heaven.”


  The angel vanishes in the light.


  The high priest smugly sits, “See, this is why we hid those blasphemous accounts, in the end we the righteous will prevail for Garudan is on OUR side. This new…devil…will fall. We are living my friends in a new age, to be written in gospels to come, just as the book speaks of Eckraick falling so too will our descendants read of this Rhulan falling before the grace of Garudan.”


  The general grabs up the scrolls, even as the priests stare daggers in his back for taking them, the general thinks, “I know propaganda and placations when I hear them, fools, we need something else, something new or else we will all be under the witch’s boot.”