It's actually written in a semi-book format, the entire writing should be read similar to how you read a book. The problem is that I simply can't condense it into one post to make it into the proper format, that and I have nowhere to actually host it. Plus, nobody would know when I update or be able to comment if I used a site like nomorepasting.com.

That said, there is main characters so far, some are taken right out of the Daimonin lore documentation link, ie: The city of Thraal, Moroch, and Jahelem. The others, like Albirth, Hornath, and Elisar are main characters created by me to put names to words so to speak.

I wouldn't really consider Elisar a main character yet, and if you read the entire post as if reading a novel, you'll see a few hints at forshadowing though I haven't decided if I'll throw a curve ball yet or not to those who have caught onto that.

There will be more characters, though I would like to stress, none of them will come from the Daimonin community playerbase, so don't expect to see a character called Unislash suddenly lopping off Morochs head with a butter knife. This is set before the settlement of Stoneglow in the last great war.

Basically a more in-depth, fleshed out history version before the actual player base joins in to give you a background on how things came to be as they are now in game.

I might have some time to write some more today, we'll see.

can't wait for the end ... don't stress my nerves that much, lol

"How many casualties?" Moroch asked as a dark robed human laid a piece of parchment on the small circular table before him.

"Twenty-three goblins dead, fifteen orcs, and one of your priests," the man replied.

"And did we find the entrance?" Moroch continued.

"We did, but we cannot breach it," the man replied, "The Drow have fortified themselves within with several of their sorcerers and with all the bloody traps down there we can't break their position."

Growling Moroch read through the report. A lone goblin had survived an assault from a Drow hunting party and made it back from the catacombs.

Moroch tossed the parchment aside, "The third level? Good, and what of the goblin that made it back?"

"He's being taken to the infirmary," the robed figure replied.

"Does anyone else know yet?" Morochs brow furrowed.

"Nobody in the ranks of the soliders dark lord."

"Good, see to it he dies quickly, we don't need those dammable rodents losing their focus, as well, assemble a party, your best mages and clerics. I will be accompanying you." Moroch muttered as he rose from the table to stare out the cracked glass window overlooking a courtyard.

"As you command," the figure replied, bowing out of the room without a noise.

"Jahelem!"

"You becon master?" Jahelem spoke, his voice full of sarcasim as he moved to stand beside Moroch.

"You heard yes? Its time to begin your plan. In one week we should have the troops here to do it," Moroch continued.

"I am ready, in one week then," Jahelem muttered and withdrew.


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Hornath awoke to the sun blinding him as it streamed through the white linen curtains covering a mosaic-stained glass window with a groan as he turned away from it.

The bed screeched causing him to wince in pain again as he struggled to focus his eyes.

"Easy old friend," a voice spoke. "You're lucky to be alive after that."

"How many..." Hornath rasped but choked. His throat was dry and ragged and he was unable to complete his sentance.

"Nobody died, but everyone there had some bumps and scrapes," the voice continued, "You took the worst of it when half the guide pillar fell on you."

Hornath winced and struggled to sit up. "Half the bloody..." he choked out, "What of Saphiras?"

"The ship is fine," the voice spoke as Hornath felt a strong hand grip his arm to help him rise. "You on the other hand, are lucky to be here and need rest."

"Give me a day, I'll be fine Albirth," Hornath chuckled while wincing as he finally recognized the voice that was speaking to him.

Albirth smiled, "You always were a tough one to take down."


More later.... damn work.....

I'll now have some time to format and read all of your great pieces. Soon you'll see them being put to use

Cheers,
Unislash

i already thought u won't continue - happy to see, u going further! Veeeeery nice

First let me say that I like this piece of creative writing a lot (or rather this serial story)...
Just a couple of questions:
Is Unislash's butter knife a uniqe artifcat made by himslef for himslef or does it drop in game?
Is a butter knife cleave, slash, or impact wep? (I guess they are really questions for unislash...lol)

The end is a good ways off yet

Its one big book basically that I write for the enjoyment of the playerbase.

As for unislash's butter knife, only he can answer that, and of course, it's pierce!

Well hai thar! Ready for a bit more to the story? I have been so busy its not even funny as of late. Enjoy, I'll try put some more up at least once a week if I can.

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"FOOLS!" Dreth'nar screamed as several drow shifted nervously, his arms trembling visably in rage as the chain links protecting them made a soft tinging sound "YOU LET THEM ESCAPE THROUGH THE CATACOMBS AND NOW THEY KNOW HOW TO GET HERE YOU FOOLS!"

"W..we...tried our best Sir," one of the younger Drow spoke hesitantly, his tattoo'd face twisting in pain as Dreth'nars fist slammed into his midsection and he dropped to his knees with a grunt.

"Your best?!?" he spat, "Your best isn't what matters you motherless son of a goat! Now we must retreat to the shrine and I have to tell the exhalted mother of your failure to repel these surfacers"

The young drow groaned, blood spitting from between his teeth as he coughed from the blow. Slowly he rose to his feet lifting his face to match Dreth'nars.

"I have failed, I await the reconing beyond," he choked out, his legs trembling to hold him upright.

"And judgement you shall have, I am glad that even though you failed you have the spine to stand true to your heritage," Dreth'nar growled, as he pulled the Drow forward as if to embrace him.

The dagger slid effortlessly through the tunic into the drows heart and he winced in pain, a soft gasp escaping his lips as Dreth'nar released the corpse to fall limply to the ground, turning to the others.

"You know the price of failure," he glared, each of them nodding nervously. "Now get out of my sight and go drive the surfacers from our home."

Turning on his heel he stalked out of the room into the dimly lit courtyard filled with crumbling ruins, the pitted cobblestones beneath his feet crunching softly beneath his plate boots. The matriarch would not be pleased with the news, but he knew of several secrets deeper in the city that many did not.

With renewed confidence he walked on, preparing the speech he would soon be delivering to the Matriarch in his head, ignoring the others around him.

Oh, i've been waiting for that, SirNaf, really! I like ur work very much and hope u will go on. idk if Anich/angry already contacted u, but if not, they defenitly should by now! Great job!

Heya sirnarf! Great to have you posting some stories again . Great job, as always!

Cheers,
Unislash

Well it's been awhile since I've written anything, I guess a continuation of the story is in order. A shame lifes been so busy for me I haven't had much time to devote to this.

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Hornath slammed the rough pewter mug down on the table with a fierce snarl, the amber liquid within slopping over the sides, dribbling across the grooves in the worn plank table. The harpest paused briefly in her soft melody at the comotion before resuming at a sleightly hurried pace.

A fire crackled deep in the massive stone hearth across the room sending swirls of sparks up the flue as his eyes narrowed, his face bunching in a twist of rage as Albirth spoke in a hushed tone.

The windows were open in the small, dimly lit tavern by the sea docks and if one listened just right it appeared as if the waves themselves were keeping time with the musician as a soft summer breeze stirred the drapes around their worn and splintered frames.

"You want me to do what?!" Hornath growled, his massive knuckles whitening as he gripped the mug tighly causing it to creak ever so sleightly at the pressure being put on it.

"We need you to go to Vorth," Albirth whispered softly as a bead of sweat slowly slid down the left side of his wrinkled old face, hidden quickly by his massive white beard.

"By the Tabernacle, why? To what end? I nearly lost four of my crew when Saphiras crashed and now you want me to abandon them to go to that cess-pool of a city? For what purpose?" Hornath said.

"We need your contacts Hornath," Albirth sighed. "We have reason to believe that Moroch has captured Vorth for something underneath the city itself."

"The hells could be under that city?" Hornath demanded.

Albirth paused, lifting an ornate wine-glass to his lips, its gold scrollwork scratched and faded, "We believe he seeks the Drow, either for their magic or for their assistance," he spoke in a hushed whisper.

Hornath snorted and took a long draw of his own mug, his grip easing on the pewter mug as a flutist joined the harper on stage, their melodies becomming inter-twined in a cascading song seeming filled with sorrow.

"The Drow are a myth, everyone knows this," he spoke, raising his mug in the air signalling a waitress for a refill.

"Do we dare risk it old friend? Would you dare risk this war that is upon Thraals gates?" Albirths tone took on a harsh note. "For the sake of your crewmembers you would sacrafice every man, woman, and child in this city?"

"You dare accuse me of that Albirth? Accuse me of tucking tail and running? The Drow are a myth and it is suicide to go into Vorth, you ask me to throw away my very life on the chance there might be something we can use," Hornath snarled, his eyes blazing with fury.

"And what if that chance pans through old friend? It could mean saving this city and all within the lands behind it," Albirth pressed, his tone never changing, "Would you rather be known as Hornath the Coward? Or Hornath the Savior?"

Hornath's hands slid to the sides of the rough table, sand and salt sifted through the smooth, worn planks to land on the sawdust laden floor. The table groaned in protest as he tried to control his anger, his mind ablaze.

"Besides," Albirth leaned back casually, his own stomach in knots as he lifted the goblet back to his lips taking a small sip. "You might find some new toys to sell off in your travels. Think of what the Drow if they exist might have for you to barter away?"

"Damn you Albirth.... damn you to the hells...." Hornath snarled as he released the table to run his hands through his hair, obviously struggling with indecision.

A small woman appeared at his table dressed in a simple brown dress, placing a fresh mug of ale before him. Upon seeing the look on his face she squeaked sleightly, jumped, and hurried back to the kitchen, obviously not wanting to be anywhere near the two men.

"I will go Albirth, but first, we get drunk, and you're buying," He breathed at last as Albirth nodded, the knots in his stomach however, refused to leave.

Again a great piece of literature Nice to know u are still with us.

Go Hornath, Go!

Great job, SirNarf!

Your stories are perfect for implementation . I believe i have them all edited up to date now... so we should get them in soon! (and by soon, i mean two weeks--but i hope they go faster than normal). Editing your stuff is very fun, i might add

Cheers,
Unislash