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[Isk]

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We got beat. Yea, Isk with his son Athlon and this guard I’ve never seen before named Eldrim attacked the Dark Order for not stepping out of their way. Crap, our Magnate has issues with pride. It was such a trivial situation but he took out his spear and just flat out jabbed it into this woman’s chest. Crazy. A handful of spells and swings of weapons later and the three of them are flat on their face, the woman is finished and her guards carry her away. What an end to a night of trading.

So by the time we get back to Magincia with the Yew and Moonglow trade goods we picked up from Skara Brae it was about midnight, most of the deck crew were already asleep but a few of us were quietly celebrating the successful trade between the three cities. Isk left the ship in what I thought was relatively decent spirits though it’s hard to tell since he wears that emotionless mask. He was gone for like an hour with his son and the guard but told us to keep the plank out. He’d be back.

So one hour past midnight the Magnate storms aboard his ship holding his side followed by these two mean looking goons carrying an elf behind them. I’ve seen this elf before. He’s the type that comes into Magincia thinking the city is fine for his kind, poor wench. I know the goons too, well, by that I mean I know the type. They would likely kill their mother and pound her skull for a few quick crowns. Isk clicks his fingers and points at me which is his way of saying “follow”

Now, I bet I don’t have to tell you that once you start to talk to other Magincians about the Magnate, they get all up in arms and start shrieking about the glory of Humanis. No matter how much you try to bring up the fact that maybe Isk is insane they act like they don’t believe you. So naturally everyone and their mom are up in arms when he’s around, watching what they say because a few bad words might land you in trouble. Its situations like this we all wish Angelique were here. The Patrona has this calming effect over him and she’s not bad to look at either. We friggin love her as much as we fear his anger.

Anyway I’m getting off track. So I follow the Magnate down into his cabin and the first thing he does is just start swearing from the top of his lungs “F-ing Cove and F-ing Dark Order” which makes me uncomfortable. His hands are shaking like they usually do but now I can just image this huge vein throbbing in his neck. The goons are standing there with their hands on the elf who you just know is counting down his minutes as Isk tosses things around the room in a genuine hissyfit. I’ve seen him angry, but this takes the cake. There are cracks in the wall as proof of Isk’s rage. He practically broke everything in the room before stopping at a picture of his wife. I remember thinking to myself ‘thank the F-ing saints’ because it seemed to relax him a bit. But then he does something completely unbelievable. He reaches for a black helm and starts to whisper to it. Now I have no idea what Isk was saying to it because those two goons I was telling you about shoot me a look and I escort myself out of the room at that point.

A good twenty minutes later the door opens and Isk sticks that spooky emotionless porcelain face out of the room. “Bring me my medicine” says Isk, and I know right away that he means the drug Utopia. Yup he’s in one of those moods. Goes crazy then needs to crash. I get him his stuff from the place the Patrona stores it and come back to check on things later. When I do he’s just sitting there, his head in his hands, the goons are gone and there’s this pile of blood on the floor. I do a double take and spot elf bits all over the cabin but its obvious to me he isn’t done yet. Before the night is up the elf will be in twenty pieces. I ducked out of there as quietly as I could.

[Imryrr Armunn D|O]

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Imryrr tore into the dry bloody bandages encircling her chest and threw them down to the ground in front of Armunn Keep. One swift angry moment while a quiet celebration transpired around her. Just as quickly as her temper had shown itself, her appearance took on a cold stoicness.
She listened as her brothers, Lord Mairsil and Shadow Skull spoke of the events that occured shortly before. Occassionally making her own comments of their small victory. Despite a personal afront, she was, all in all, pleased with how the evening had turned out it seemed. The Dark Order had seen it's first battle since her reign began, and they had done well.
Needing fresh bandages, Imryrr took herself inside while her brothers decided to take their victory party abroad.

Sitting quietly in a chair, she seemed an emotionless statue to Jujual as the old woman attended Imryrr's worse wounds. Jujual had stopped wondering of her mistress' stamina and high threshold for pain years ago. Her young mistress was too stubborn and prideful. Her ego, especially bruised as it was now, would not allow her to show pain this night. But, still, the old woman had to push it. Preparing a strip of bandage, Jujual glanced up at Imryrr. "It's good. Very good. You all come home alive. And its good too that you dont be lettin a little thing like a big gaping hole in your chest stop ya none."

An hour or so later, after having given the stableman the night off and replacing him with Jujual to see to it's cleaning, Imryrr walked calmly across the hallway to the study. Calmly too she removed her gloves one by one and placed them on a nearby shelf. Then, suddenly and swiftly she pivoted and with a loud gutteral sound from the back of her throat and from the depths of her anger, she threw hard the dagger that had been at her side, only a moment before.
With a loud thud the sleek blade hit it's mark. Her mother's signature on a painting her father had once had hanging in his own study.
Going to retrieve her dagger, Imryrr reflected on this inner upset. She had fallen in battle. She was not overly upset that it had happened but more that she believed it would not have happened if it weren't for own physical weakness. Her still coldly painful legs and stiff movements it caused. She felt betrayed by her own body. Her brothers had done well. A fight well fought. She had almost stayed upright til the end. Almost, however, is not a word that Imryrr was satisfied with. A win for the Dark Order. A loss for her personal pride. All of the enemy targetting her out at the beginning would have made most fall. But she was not "most". She was Dark Order. Above the rest.
Mutely chastising herself, she reached for the dagger. Her blank, white on white eyes noted a slight rip near the puncture entrance. Following the rip to it's edge, she saw a line, as though sewn into the painting. Pulling out the dagger with one hand, she reached to touch this odd line with her other. Feeling the difference in the material. Not exactly visible, was an ultra thin wire intertwined within the canvas. This was odd. Someone was hiding something? It had been her father's painting. The one he kept close to his desk. Her mother had painted it, and was a landscape. A piece of no particular importance.......or so she'd thought.
Her brows drawing in, she plucked at the canvas and pulled the rip into a long tear to see behind it. A seperate parchment, aged, and what looked to be a symbol drawn onto it. Another picture perhaps?
Imryrr pulled gently at the parchment and saw immediatly that this was no sketch from her mother. It had words, it seemed, in a language she did not recognize. Possibly words. Runic inscriptions?
She glanced another parchment inside the painting, and then another. The last looked similiar to the other two, yet different. A letter? Instructions? Her father's name was etched on the third paper. The only actual words that she could recognize, and she suspected it was a letter by the style of the page. It could have been anyone's handwritting though. Her father's, her mothers, or a stranger. The paper was too warn and the language too foreign for her to tell.

An hour later and she was at her desk, still holding the mysterious papers and her eyes darting from line to line. It became clear that the first two pages were a mixture of words in one language that had symbols for which held no meaning to her but seemed oddly familiar. Having briefly gone through a few of her father's old letters, she'd surmised that the third page was a letter, by him, with a softer writing style than she was use to seeing, seen only in passing as she had come across his personal letters to her mother, Ditto, from time to time. And so she sat there, wondering.....Why?

Why would father hide these here? He obviously thought them important in some way. But what [are] they? What do they mean?
I tilted my head and stared at nothing in particular,but only wondered aloud in a whisper. "What were you up to, father dear?"

For some time that night, the clouds of her fury all but forgotten, Imryrr wondered and contemplated what best to do with the pages, and more urgently, how best to deal with the chattering fool, Isk. The one who would soon know what grievous error he'd made with his insult.
Yes, there was much to contemplate. Much to replan. Much to do.

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HAWK# 232286048

Walter: "Brian Bael and Cloudster were the ultimate threesome." Now I knowy our fantasy.
Ditto: Our? oooo you swing that way?
Walter: zomg now I gave you a quote *facepalm*

[Mairsil]

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How many years had it been...

The Night was young,
And an Armunn stood strong.
A general stood guard,
And a guard stood ready.

War was wraught,
With falling, axes.
Flying spells, and
Explosive suprises.

Enemies, of old,
were born anew.
Examples were made,
In bloody truth.

How many battles,
How many spells.
How many swings
How many felled...


The Dark Order has returned...


"And so have I."

Mairsil stood taller than he had in a long time, and slowly raised his head to take Dark Cove into his eyes. He gripped the hilt of his mace tightly in hand. The walls of the city had never fallen under the reign of the Dark Order, and until they had, never again would he.


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"You see I can not be forsaken, because I'm not the only one. We walk amongst you, beating, r#ping, must we hide from everyone?" - Jon Davis