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Arda's time has drawn to an end, as all good things must. Remember it with fondness, and may it rest in peace.

Goodbye, everyone, I loved you all and Arda very dearly.
۩ Lothlómendil

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The End is Nigh; Open to any and all who can be bothered
Topic Started: Jul 26 2008, 03:13 PM (836 Views)
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Former Guardian of Earth, ERPer
There was an urgent rushing sensation as Wurzag flew through the vast sentience of the earth spirit. Despite its sluggish consciousness and placid pulse Ea knew that something approached, something terrible, and it hastened the Earth Guardian on his way faster than the speed of thought. There was a lurch and the warmth of the embrace of stone gave way to the harsh cold of the mountains as the half-orc emerged atop the highest peak in all the land. He quite literally stood on the roof of the world.

From this lofty perch he could peer down over the entire continent through the scattered clouds as if it were a green, patchwork quilt. With his enhanced vision Wurzag could see tiny specks, flocks of birds, herds of animals and great swaths of people as they fled the impending sense of doom that pressed down over the land like a hammer.

Something approached.

The land quailed before it.

With a thought the half-orc summoned his companions to him; Froat, the wolf, Puzze, the Lynx, Teeves, the Snow Drake and, most blessed, Glinthogolwen, the golden harrier of Curin. With a blur of light they appeared at his side, faithful friends who had journeyed with him through the darkest of times and would continue to do so until time itself crashed to a halt. Froat nuzzled the half-orc's hand and gave a whine of anxiety as he too felt the oppressive presence that lurked unseen above them.

Power waited, like an executioners axe, and all of Ea was its chopping block.

Nathrin emerged from his sleeve, the little root golem no more than a few fibrous fronds and slowly nodded to Wurzag. "It is time my friends," he said to the assembled creatures, "a darkness is coming more profound than anything that has come before. We gaze our last on this land, this wonder that we have known and my heart grows heavy." Puzze curled up at his feet and licked a paw as if to accept the inevitable. "Let us see who, if any, will answer the call to this bleak place as the end approaches. I still have power while the earth endures, let us see who can be saved."

So, the half-orc sat on the barren, rugged summit, his friends arrayed about him and with a mighty surge of spirit, sent forth the voice of the earth into every living being on the face of Ea.

"Come," it said, "come join me on the mountain, let us remember, and celebrate as we usher in the end."
Name: Wurzag Strong-Blood
Gender: Male
Race: Maia (Formerly Half-Orc)
Class: Liradan
Occupation: Shaman/Earth-Warden
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Height: 6' 7"
Weight: 266lbs
Age: 34
Hair: Black, untidy dreadlocks, usually tied back
Eyes: Black, slightly porcine
Build: Heavy, thick-set, massively muscled
Element: Nature
Personality: Gone is the violent, hard drinking brute. Time and experience have fashioned Wurzag into thoughtful, peace-loving creature with a deep affinity for the wild. He retains a little of his thuggish speech, courtesy of his orcish tusks, but his words are well chosen and meaningful. He does however still enjoy laughter, song and a flagon of mead should the occasion arise. Enemies of the earth should beware however; though he is much changed a fierce warrior heart still burns at his core, something not to be provoked.
Languages: Adunaic, Orkish
Skills: Intimidate, Heal, Intuit Direction, Knowledge - Wilderness
Feat: Cleave, Endurance
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Foeiron, The Right Hand of Nature

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Taryn Pallerion
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In all the time that he had known Wurzag-formerly-Helmsplitta-now-Strong-Blood, Taryn had never hesitated to answer any sort of call. OK, there had been the one time during the War when they had very nearly ended up killing one another, but when you were as close as Wurzag and Taryn were, a near-murder experience was little more than water under the bridge.

This time, however, the 'call' was sufficiently urgent enough to see Taryn kiss the three young ladies who he was presently seeing (some things never changed) goodbye and to head to the Ered Annon Mountains.

It had been some time since they'd last seen one another and Taryn had matured some. Only some, mind: he still had the youthful, boyish face that he had always had and now that he and DeVere were two separate entities, he was also less inclined to sarcasm. All in all, it was a rather winning combination.

He trudged his way towards the summit, complaining bitterly the whole time and eventually happened upon his half-orc friend.

"You pick your spots, don't you?" he grumbled, settling down next to the half-orc and digging into his pack to produce two oak bottles of ale. "Have a drink, my friend, and let's talk about that plan of ours to go to the moon."

A silence fell between them, comfortable as it had always been. Even Taryanderon DeVere Pallerion, who was normally as emotionally connected to the universe as a brick was to a raindrop, sensed that all was not well. But here, at least, he felt safe and secure. Here at least, come what may, he was amongst friends.

Life, he mused, as he sipped at the ale, wasn't really so bad.
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Name: Taryanderon DeVere Pallerion (Taryn)
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Class: Mage
Alignment: Neutral
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 180lbs
Age: 25. Taryn appears a young 25, DeVere much more weathered.
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Green
Build: Slender, but not scrawny. He has the sort of muscle tone that speaks of a young man who is not at all lazy.
Element: Fire
Personality: Taryn is a genial sort of man, with an easy going, almost inquisitive nature that lends him something of a boyish appeal. It works well in his favour: people have a tendency to trust him and thus share secrets with him without question. However, he is also, like the element with which he has become aligned, able to flare out of control at a moment's notice. Of late, he has become increasingly intense, largely as a result of the continued evolution of his suppressed maturity, a non-corporeal entity who has elected to use the name 'DeVere'.
Skills: Diplomacy, Knowledge - Arcana, Ride
Feats: Lightning reflexes, Strong Soul

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Sartana Misirlou
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Just as Sartana had witnessed the last days of his home plane, Tarsonis, returning to Arda brought about a similar feeling; a hushed, growing breeze, that did not caress his face, but rather, passed through it, pulling, as it did, at his very essence. Beside the demon hunter, on the summit, stood a tall blonde man, clad in worn platemail and wearing a pair of tinted glasses. A mournful look hung from his face. After a moment, he turned to his friend.

“What does it all mean, brother? Why has this happened?” The blonde knight shook his head, turning away from the distant scenery, to stare at the rocky platform on which they stood. The demon hunter, who did blink his multicolored eyes, only tightened his reddened scarf about his neck, before adjusting his hat. He did not know.

There were others, there, on that wordly vantage point, to see Ea's end. Some he knew, others, unknown to him; some malevolent, some good. None fought. Few spoke. Differences did not seem to matter, now. Because this was the end of everything.

Wordlessly, Sartana tipped his hat to the world he had grown to love so much. Turning, he walked past his friend, who sighed and trailed behind. Goodbye, Arda. I take my leave again, it seems, for my story cannot end here, like this. I have learned much from both you and those who called you home. I will always keep you in my mind, and in my heart, where you will live on unforgotten.

With that, the two disappeared into the distance, never to return again.
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Ara felt a darkness rising out of the earth as she traveled through the paths in the Ered Annon Mountains. The ghost fo evil filled the air and the land around her. Birds flocked together and began to send out rapid, chaotic callls to their brothers. Arestu whimpered, and cast Ara a fearful glance. All was not well.

Ara began to panic. In some sort of unconciousness she knew what was coming. Her body froze in a sort of frightened shock. It was the end of the world, and she wasn't even thinking about it.

And then, she did something, something that would seem foolish to her eyes in years previous. She bent down on her knees, bowed her head, closed her eyes.

"Gods, the lords of lands and seas and sky, those who walk upon Aman and Earth, I pray today you spare me. I do not defy that I have always doubted you, but today I see the truth. I know that only you have the power to bring such wrath down upon us mortals. I ask only that you forgive me."

It was many moments until she felt a voice quake through her limbs. "Come," it said, "come join me on the mountain, let us remember, and celebrate as we usher in the end."

Immediatly Ara began to climb. The rocks were treacherous but she did not want to die. Arestu tried to follow but could not; Ara tucked the pup into her blouse. He whined in fear but she would not let him fall. On the mountain she came across a man, accompanied by an Orc, and this Orc, she knew, was Wurzag, the Guardian of Earth. He had spared her and in this she would forever be greatful. Ara cast a glance to the world below her. All of Ea was coming to its End. And so she watched, from above, in silent concentration.

She cast her sword over the edge. The world would be at peace, for this was its end and all fates would be met. She left her sorrows on the ground. The creatures below scattered as Death fell over them. So, this was how the world would end. Not in a violent slaughter or a quake of earth, but a sort of pause, a silence to fall over the land, a peace. And as it was the end of this age and this world, it was not the utter End.

On would live the beyond.

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Be prepared to be PWNed, Shadovar! BADI is coming back!

He could see realization dawn in her eyes- they were unique eyes he realized. He would have sworn they were blue but now they seemed to be subtly changing, as if that brief forage into her memories showed themselves in her eyes. Honest Eyes, his clan would have called them. Extremely rare and also a sign of good luck.

~Geis Coldfur, aka Undeady :wub:

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Name: Aralishia Artemis Bandaar
Gender: Female
Race: Elf
Class: Ranger
Occupation: BADI C Class
Alignment: True Neutral
Height: 6 feet
Weight: 134 pounds
Age: 24
Hair: Saphire Blue
Eyes: Crystal Saphire
Build: A thin, tall build, but completely graceless with slightly lanky limbs
Element: Nature: Earth
Personality: Aralishia is a tormented soul who battles with two completely different personalities, one from her pure elfish heritage, ane one from her lupine heritage. A reflection of her mother (lupine) and father (elf), Ara has inherited several undesirable qualities from her father. From her mother, she recieves traits that deeply conflict with her father.
This conflict of battling personalities, one of her father and one of her mother, battling over their wills inside one pitiful soul, has left Aralishia at a loss.
Skills: Handling animals, Knowledge- Wilderness
Feat: Weapon Focus- Sword

Alternate Accounts: Innocence (Destiny Rei)[/align]

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The Journal of Aralishia Bandaar
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Nathaniel M. Rystoff
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The urge to climb a mountain hadn't been as powerful as other inclinations the man had received; it did not beat like the raging waterfalls upon a hapless log or the thunderous hooves of an auroch as it charged along the ground. Something about the calling was sweet though, illiciting a fondness he hadn't felt since he'd followed that shadow woman through the misty forest. Under his breath, the man took up a gentle hum -- a tune he'd learned as a child, or perhaps heard when he marched with a more noble army.

Saddled on Roetshreck's back, Nathaniel had little to fear. So it was he approached the house's roof with a calm resolve, ignorant to trepidation or anger. The instinct knew what was coming even if the brain did not; likewise for his animals. Even the usually vicious Jakabok was calm, rustling faintly every so often as he peered across the forestry. The small demon fly the human usually brought with him was also seated on the horse, lounging on its belly with its tiny hands clutching the bit's strap. At the horse's side followed the silent hound of shadows, one head lowered wearily. Such vicious animals were not usually tamed, but the Knowledge forced it into a complacent state.

Ahead, the gentle light of a falling sun could be seen breaching the mountain's peak. The man's hum died away, and Roetshreck paused accordingly. Nearby, a few birds chattered to one another. Nathaniel inhaled the crisp mountain air, then urged his horse on once more. Without complaint it moved forth, its steps slow and its gait according a quarter horse. The hounds did nothing, ears and tail lowered, silent but for the puffs of breath slipping from gnarled, pointed teeth and slick black noses. The shadows stretched behind the small group, the climax meting the horse, and...

And they passed without alarm. A rabbit trotted through the path they had previously taken, and its padded footfalls echoed before it eventually disappeared.

Atop the mountain, the man surveyed that which he had never seen. Though his eyes were no more stronger than any mortal man's, the vast stretches of everything was awe inspiring. He could see no herds of deer; but the packs of trees were proud symbols. No civilian met his eye, but distantly he thought he spied the headquarters of Shadovar. And here, on this mountaintop, three figures. One he recognized as a judge from a lifetime ago; the other two he knew not of.

Climbing off of Roetshreck, the human stroked its face momentarily, whispering private words to it. Then he trod over to the pair, his hound laying at the horse's side and Jakabok settling on the now vacant saddle. Wordlessly Nathaniel stood nearby, robbed of any speech. How simple things seemed in perspective. How... pointless. "Do you suppose the bards will repeat the tales?"
Name: Nathaniel M. Rystoff
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Height: 6'2
Weight: 210
Element: General; Chaos
Skills: Heal, Diplomacy, Intimidate
Feat: Alertness
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A Warrior's Belongings
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Fira Trist had seen so much of the world of Arda. It was more than she ever could have witnessed had she chosen to remain within her small village. The young sorceress was very grateful for the entire thing; yet she was also sad that it was time for her to part ways with those the Ardians and the lands known as Arda.

The orange haired woman looked around her to all of the joy that she had seen and her eyes filled with tears as she went back through the many memories of journeying and friendship. Fira tried to comfort herself, saying mentally over and over again that it was indeed true that all good things must end at some point.

She could see that there were others upon the Ered Annon Mountains as well. It was good to see that there were so many others that wanted to view the final moments of Arda and at least they would all be together until the end.

'I shall remain upon this mountain,' the Half-Elf thought to herself with a great sense of determination. 'I will be here for all of those that wish to come and only when the curtain of the Nothing falls upon Arda shall I leave this place.'

Keeping that thought at the forefront of her mind, Fira sat down upon the earth and watched the world around begin its descent. She wondered what would come of this, and yet, she did not truly want to know. What was bound to happen was going to happen. Nothing could change this.
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Fira Trist
Alignment: Lawful Good
Element: Light (Specialized: Stars)
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 147 lbs.
Dominant Hand: Left
Race: Half-Elven (Human)
Class: Sorceress
Occupation: Peformer

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"May the Wind be at your side and the Stars light your path."

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((You didn't specify the time, so I'll assume it's at night.))

Beneath the starry sky, she waited - for what, she did not know. But she waited for something. Or perhaps she waited for someone. Again, she did not know. Her past was no mystery to her, though she could scarcely remember anything beyond fifty or so years earlier. Her memory was not terrible, but neither was it perfect. Her hypnotic, sky-blue eyes drifted across the endless dome that so completely dwarfed the continent of Ea. She was nothing to that wondrous beauty, a mere speck compared to the dimmest of the stars that hung high overhead. The moon was only a waning crescent, well past the peak of its undying magnificence. She wondered what it would be like on the moon. She had heard it called Isiltelpe before, but she was no astronomer or astrologer; she did not study the stars. She was simply an immortal wanderer and an admirer of that well-painted nocturnal canvass.

Her ears picked up sounds deep within the cave, but her mind did not immediately register them. She was far too intent on her own thoughts to worry about a few late travelers. This was the hour she had waited for, when the stars were bright and the night was quiet. She would not mind a bit of conversation, she supposed, but she would remain quiet until they passed for now; she wasn't really interested in company. But the one that came out of the cave upon the roof of which she now sat, one leg stretched out and the other raised with her arms around the shin, did draw her attention. She sensed it before she felt it: a sudden rushing as of wind, but somehow it did not touch her. She felt it - and then she saw it. Out of nowhere the animals did come. First there was a lynx, a powerful and rarely seen cat of the wildest habitats. Next came an odd creature she had never seen before, but then came a wolf. Wolves had ever been the friends of vampires, for they often felt as vampires did; not all of Lidia's kind were monsters bent on the destruction of nature and the eradication of all things made of light and purified by the morality of the elves. The wolf, she had no doubt, had smelled her; but he did not look upon that fairest of creatures, pale in what little moonlight accompanied the starlight that blessed the nocturnal hours. There was also a bird golden of feathers that she glanced up at as he appeared. The bird, she knew, had noticed her. But the bird made no indication that it had done so.

Now, though, the uruk-hai below her spoke. What manner of creature was he that he so commanded the birds of the air and the beasts that roamed the lands? What manner of foul Yrch could command such a connection to the animal world that nature itself was defied? For Yrchs were but breeds of elves that had been tortured many centures ago, disfigured and driven mad. Orcs and goblins they were now, and barbarian-like orc-men and uruk-hai. They were monsters, every one of them, and many were far worse than any vampire. Yet this one was different.

As he spoke of the impending doom, Lidia found herself nodding mentally. She, too, had felt something drawing near. It came to her in dreams, strange images of vast armies. Never could she tell what manner of creatures or races the armies consisted of, but they were violent and destructive. Everything burned; everything was destroyed. All in the path of those armies were merely fuel for whatever darkness it was that even the vampire could not see through. Indeed, many of the images were shadows and blurred figures at best. Whatever was coming, she felt that the dreams were real and that there was something very dark and very sinister behind it all. Her sire did not believe her. But vampires, by their very nature, were secretive and kept to themselves. They did not often believe many of the tales that had risen over the last several thousand years, for their tenure in the world of the living was only brief when they traveled there at all. Lidia was one of the few who had traveled there often. She liked the stars and the moon.

Lidia never spoke as she listened to the uruk-hai's words, so close to her own dreams. She wondered what great evil it was that was coming. She did not really believe it would affect her, however. She was of the Underworld, after all; she was not bound to the world of the living as this strange creature and his friends were. One of them was very strange indeed, too, for he seemed no larger than Lidia's small hand and was apparently made entirely of wood. But she paid the little creature no attention. As the uruk-hai finished his speech, Lidia turned her eyes to the stars once more in thought. Other people were now showing up as well, but she wasn't particularly concerned with them. She was being ignored by those below and that was fine by her; it wasn't her affair anyway.
Name: Lidia
Gender: Female
Race: Vampire
Class: Cleric
Occupation: Wanderer
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Height: 5' 7"
Weight: 122lbs
Age: 139
Appearance: Image I, Image II
Element: Darkness (Shadows)


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So it was that Culufin, in tune with the earth as elves were, heard Arda's dying breath and mourned. It was not for the passage of life that he mourned, but rather that he mourned because the world was passing on terms not of his own. He had abandoned his people, contrary to his claim that they had abandoned him. It was selfish motivation that had driven him from Yomeniampa and now, never to return. He could only wonder what drove life from Arda and was it completely unlike what had moved him to leave his own home? It was of these things that he reflected and because of them that Culufin heeded the call of the wild and sought to reach the high peak of the highest mountain on Ea.

And when he scaled that mighty summit, he found himself among all of Arda's great heroes and villains. It was of no surprise, however, that Culufin few of their number, for Arda was a great world and only the mighty populated it. While curiousity as to what had happened and regret for never righting so many wrongs dominated his emotions, he felt a small tinge of bride that he too, was among Arda's mighty and that with him, he would watch the world pass.

[align=center]Name: Culufin Kir-Edhel (Culufin was the name given at birth. Kir-Edhel, although it is rare for elves to have one, is the surname given to Culufin after leaving Yomeniampa.)
Gender: Male
Race: Paredhel; The child of a man who conquered the heart of an elven maiden and then left her to bear their love-child alone. Culufin has chosen to live the life of the Eldar, though his bastard heritage has not gained him their love.
Class: Ranger
Occupation: Former March-Warden
Alignment: True Neutral/ Neutral Good.
Age: Many seasons have passed since his birth, though he is young by the ways of the elves and a graybeard to those of the humans
Hair: Auburn, the legacy of his father.
Eyes: As green as the leaves of Yomeniampa
Build: He carries himself with the grace of an elf, though his lithe frame carries a more toned musculature than that of his people.
Element: N/A
Personality: A man with a chip on his shoulder and a grudge to carry, Culufin is bitter and has little patience for any but himself. His wrath is quick to come and can be long to stay, but his heart is generous and his ways, kind, beneath his hardened exterior.
Skills: Great Agility, Knowledge-Wilderness
Feat: Weapon Focus: Sword, Combat Reflexes
Fighter Abilities: Parry, Dodge, Riposte, Might, Defend.
Flaws: Short-Tempered, Selfish, Impatient, Prejudiced.
Starting Equipment: Longsword, Cloak, Minor Heal

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Famine stood behind the gathering, his spear clenched tightly in his hands. This was not how it was supposed to be! His thoughts raged. Famine fought back a burning ire that swelled in the back of his throat. The end was supposed to come at my hand! Mine! The demon slowly began making his way towards the group, struggling to make a decision. "How do I want to end this?" He could not help but wonder. The entire situation was a mystery to him. Famine knew not why he even stood before these people, why he had been drawn here and why he knew that it was all about to end. But it was, and he did know it. Finally, he stopped, a few paces away from those he sworn to kill so long ago. His gaze switching from the group to his spear. For the first time in his existence, he was at a loss at what to do with himself. This moment had been so unconceivable to him, that he could not figure out how he would spend the remainder of his time.

He came to a decision. Famine raised his spear, quickening his pace toward the group. "This, is how it ends." He said, with a faint smile. The spear left his grip, flying true to its target. It flew over Wurzag and the rest of the group, continuing it's path down the summit. Slowly, Famine positioned himself next to the guardian, not caring to see where his spear had struck.

Of all the endings Famine had dreamed of, this one was farthest from them. Instead of sitting on a throne of bone and blood or a mountain of gold, he stood next to those he had sworn to kill so long ago. Truly, a slap in the face from fate. But at this point, Famine did not care. At least he could spend it with the closest things he could call friends. He leaned his shoulder against that of the half-orc's. "Well, let me be the first to say that... This. Sucks." He finished.
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Name: Famine
Race: Rauko
Alignment: Evil
General Info: He is evil, but enjoys fraternizing while he kills, often speaking to his victims as if they were long friends. Has a sick sense of humor about him. Enjoys fighting on his terms and no one else's, and often fights through cowardice and deceit. A nihilist to the extreme.
Element: Darkness
Feat: Silent Spell, Polearm Mastery, Resist Poison, Endurance
Skills: Mounted Combat, Intimidate
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Irienys climbed, putting hand over hand in an endless struggle to the top. It was much like life really. A tirade of challenges and effort that really only pulled you closer and closer to the end. She would have smiled at the final end but there was no point. All pretense was lost now. It was the final calling of the bell. There was no facard, there was no pretending there was just Irienys at the worlds end. She muttered to herself, why did she bring her armor to the end of the world? She unstrapped her armor and watched it as it fell into the void. Higher she climbed. Pulling herself closer to the extinction of sentient life.

Gritting her teeth muscles strained as she pulled herself closer and closer to the mountains peak. She cursed herself. Why did she bring weapons to the end of the world? She cast off her weapons from her body and watched them fall into the abyss. She climbed higher. She struggled. Why did she bring money to the end of the world? She cast off her money pouch and watched it fall. She climbed higher. She struggled. Why did she bring her possessions to the end of the world? She cast off her satchel. It fell into the abyss. She climbed now, with naught but the clothes on her back and the air in her lungs. It was almost over.

She stood. Staring out over the world, Arda congregating around her. She looked out with everyone and at the same time alone. Time to end it. She wasn't going to be destroyed by a force not her own. She would have control over her own life... and death. She strode forward and again. Breaking into a run she sprant across the peak and leaped. Out into the open air. Single and alone. A single mind raging against the storm of reality she controlled her destiny with her strong hand as she fell into oblivion. She died, by her own hand.
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Dark Wraith
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The world was dying.

Everything, everywhere, was fading and crumbling into nothingness. Lothlomendil had forsaken the world, and without a master to guide it in the right direction, it was being eaten alive by the other planes. Nothing kept it separate from the other planes of existence. All around him, things disappeared and reappeared, shimmering and fluctuating, as if the entire world was being reflected in the pool of water. Xoco could feel himself drawn to the focal point of this terrible apocalypse, along with every other being in the world.

Quickly, he tried to teleport himself to the mountain, but somehow ended up in the middle of the desert. Again, he tried, but to no avail. Now he stood in the middle of Ondoland, where chaos and panic were in full swing. People ran about, trying to savor their last moments with their families before the darkness came to swallow them. Xoco knew that only the strongest among them would survive when the planes collided in the spectacular display that awaited. Each of them would be torn, tossed into different directions, scattered among countless planes of existence.

Xoco had always pictured a world where wickedness reigned, where he was king and his enemies were destroyed, trampled underfoot like the worms they were. But now that Lothlomendil, his greatest adversary, was gone, there was no world to conquer. There was no existence to rule, no people to exact tribute from. There were no armies to command, nor armies of enemies to defeat. No more alliances. No more demon hunters taunting him, or good friends standing by his side to conquer the world. Nothing mattered anymore... nothing.

Xoco looked upon devastation, which he had wrought for as long as he could remember. And he hated it.

Closing his mind, he concentrated with all of his might, forcing through the warp in the world's magic. The great forces hurling at the world from all sides were disrupting the proper flow of energy upon which all magic relied. It took all of his strength to land within a thousand yards of where he had pictured, where normally, he could land within a few inches of where he envisioned.

Xoco found himself on the mountain. Atop it were friends and adversaries, rich and poor, burglars and guardsmen, demons and angels. They all just stood atop what remained of the world, watching as it was rent open and tossed in a thousand directions.

Reaching the top, he stood among them. For the first time, he saw his old adversary Sartana, the demon hunter, and had no urge to attack. What was the point? Now, with perspective, what was the point of any of their previous conflicts. It was all for nothing; everything they did was so small in this grand cosmic scheme. If the world could be rent apart so easily, did anything matter?

Xoco peered out endlessly, watching the lights fade on the horizon, as he pondered these things, his heart broken and his dreams crushed, just like all of the others who stood atop the mountain.
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Name: Xoco
Race: Ainur - Maiar
Class: Shadowblade
Gender: Male
Alignment: Evil
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Raith Daggard
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Raith breathed heavily as his hands were scraped and bloodied as he continued to climb the mountain Ered Annon as fast as he could. His black leather boots pushed him further up the mountain as he had more thinking to do
"Why must this happen to me?" he moaned to himself as he continued on, for he knew what was about to happen to him and all of the creatures of Ea, "I wished to do more, to be more, but it appears that that has slipped through my fingers." Raith said, slipping on a loose rock before pressing on.

Raith made his way finally to a point where others had gathered to watch what was about to unfold; the end of Ea. He noticed many faces, though he knew none, except one. He recognized Wurzag, but he was to wrapped in his thoughts and all of his disgust at himself.
"I really have done so little compared to what I could've done." he thought to himself as he looked out from the viewpoint that he stood on, basking in it's magnificence, though he knew that he would not be able to enjoy it for too long.

Even with the amount of people that had gathered there, of many different races and cultures, still few talked and not even one fought. Raith unstrapped his sword sheath, tossing it and his sword off to the side into some undergrowth. He pulled his helmet from his belt, casting it to rest with his sword. He had calmed down some, realizing that there was nothing that knew of that he could do.
"So this is the way the world ends? Goodbye to all those that I ever knew." he thought to himself before he watched an odd looking creature make a running jump off of the cliff. He knew that this was the end, no way to stop it.

He slumped down to his knees, waiting for the end.
[align=center]Name: Raith Daggard
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Class: Warrior
Occupation: Mercenary
Flaws: Low Magical Essence, Obsessive, Heavy Sleeper, Hallucinations
Skills: Great Agility, Intimidate
Feats: Cleave, Combat Reflexes, Endurance, Strong Soul
Alignment: Neutral
Element: Specialized: War
Height: 6' 6”
Weight: 290
Age: 33
Hair: Medium and Brown
Eyes: Dark Brown
Skin: Tanned
Build: Extremely Muscular
Personality: Raith is not very friendly towards people, though he can develop friends and is becoming more friendly towards others. If a person becomes his close friend, he is loyal to them unless he has a good reason to become unloyal to them. He does not hold to a strict code of honor, if one could consider his that for it is only for his advantage.
Languages Known: Common
Starting Equipment: Two-handed Sword, Cloak
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He had been drawn to this place, as they all had. They all knew that they had to be here, together, to say goodbye. Though divided by notions of good and evil, and separated on the battlefields of war, now they gathered as one. They were all a part of Arda. Just like the trees and the earth and water and the skies. They had, though personally divided, all lived as one. Now they were gathered as one to die as one.

He saw people he knew gathering on the mountaintop, but suddenly ideas of knowing and not knowing someone seemed all so frivolous. They were here now. That’s all that mattered. He sat on the hard ground and watched as more and more and more Ardians gathered around him, of all colours and creeds.

People continued to walk around him, climbing higher and higher up the mountain approaching Wurzag who stood atop the highest peak. Honestly though, he just couldn’t climb anymore. He was tired… so very tired. He had never been very strong, but that didn’t matter. He sat, looking down at the dirty grey rocks under his legs. The idea that these things, these so very simple things could cease to exist defied belief.

Surely rocks and grass and the sun and the moon… surely these things were forever? He suddenly found himself laughing softly under his breath. The sound of laughter seemed so out of place in this time of mourning and impending doom. He leaned back and laid upon the hard, rocky ground, people stepping around his body as they climbed the mountain.

He laid flat, his arms slightly outstretched and his eyes closed. This wasn’t so bad. He would stay here, on this spot. He just couldn’t journey anymore. Though he had never been much of a traveller, he had travelled anyway. And now, finally, as he laid there waiting for the end, he realised why: because it was worth it. This world, this beautiful, wondrous world was worth the aching muscles and the exhausted mind. It would always be worth it.

”Thank you.” he whispered in his gentle voice, and opened his bright silvery eyes to look up at the sky. ”And goodbye.” he finished and closed his eyes once more.
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Jones himself had also made it to the mountain in time. He felt sad to think that his life was going to end now. So many things left undone, so many books not read, so much of Arda that he was suppose to have seen.

It was terrible to think that all this was to come to an end now. Jones looked up at the stars in the sky. He hoped that it would all be quick.
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Gender: male
Race: human
Class: Wizard
Occupation: wanderer
Alignment: good
Height: 5'4 feet
Weight: 119 pounds
Age: 29 yrs
Hair: brown
Eyes: bluish green
Build: slim (he does not work out much)
He is a curious fellow who just loves knowledge and learning. This is the main reason why he travels. To sharpen his mind with knowledge gained from all over. He also enjoys solving puzzels and riddles. He is a good hearted person of a gentle nature, but that does not mean that he will not defend himself if threatened. It also does not mean that he does not have a temper.
Skills: Intuit Direction, Knowledge-arcane
Feat: Silent spell
Flaws: obsessive, twitchy, weak, fear
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Crimson steel cleaved through flesh and bone, but the sound of tearing was hollow, and the man's final gasp but an echo in the faintest dream. Arael heaved his eyes up to the sky as the spasming body thudded against the grassland in front of him. The other villagers of the meaningless, backwater town stared at him, their gazes unmoving, their fear frozen in time as the Fallen Angel exhaled. And with his breath came the memories, vivid images of slaughter that had once had purpose, deaths that did not meaninglessly pale against the wave of void that approached this world. Invisible, inaudible, suffusing the very being of all that stood and lay around him, ripping it apart with such tranquil ease that it made him tremble. Where once he had been fearless, he now stood powerless, and as he gazed over the soundless annihilation of the oh so fragile constructions of mankind, he realized that this was the end. The end he had yearned for, he had fought for, killed for.

Now it was here, and he could do naught but stand in restless stillness as life and death collapsed around him. Where it passed, nothing remained. With a mighty growl, the armored celestial leaped up into the air, majestic wingspan fully outstretching as he flew into the fading radiance of the dying sun. A surge of melancholy washed over him as he glided through the atmosphere. He looked behind him, and the horizon crumbled beneath his gaze, or so he would have liked to think. The way in which the story was finished left him with a vague sorrow. How had his exploits ever contributed to this? This was not destruction for the sake of a purer rebirth. His grief grew as he realized that when this was over, there would be no new starts. This was beyond death, and outside of the vicious circle that death formed with life.

The top of the mountain he was headed for was occupied, he could see, but there was no spark of madness that drove him to heave his blade, no power in his lungs that could send a final, shrill battlecry through his soar throat. They would all be gone, soon enough. He landed softly atop the rough stone, offering those present nothing but a grieving glance as he turned towards the outstretched planes beneath him. Clouds and landscapes twirled and mixed within his vision. Colors shattered, structure faded. All of it was slow, bit by bit, as though the world was granting its inhabitants the chance to say their final farewells before joining it in the emptiness of the all-consuming void.

Irony itched annoyingly inside his mind. Arael Ashfeather was spending the last few moments of his life, of everyone's life, doing what he had failed to do ever before: living. He took a firm hold of his blade and held it out into the sun, but he was granted no final, sharp gleam of a bloodred edge - light, too, was dying. He swiped his hood backwards, feeling the chill of heights clashing with his pale skin. Eyes that were once red were now pure again, blue as the brightest sapphire as they scanned over the tool of his useless struggle against harmony. Without a word, he cast the sword down into the depths. Metallic clatters rang against his ears, duller and duller, until it, too, found its way into the void's silent embrace. Stepping away from the edge, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, once-precious mithril armor creaking to accomodate his stance as he stoically stared ahead.

It's over.
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