quote:Why does it need to fit next to the image? Just extend the text down below it. No one here will object, really
Faelynn LeAndris had this to say about Pirotess:
Bah... history snippet was WAY too long for her, had to condense it to fit on the image. Makes it not sound as good. =/
[ 02-13-2003: Message edited by: Ford Prefect ]
But who's being silly now that the compliments have run out?!
( )
I like Marcus' best.
You may or may not like what comes next anyways, since it's a far cry from the previous ones.. and they are a bit odd, all things concidered anyway. 
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Katrinity Model 2000 was programmed to say:
<sets out a plate of cookies for Fae to return to this thread> ^.^
eats a cookie
Mmm.
And what Kat said, any Fae art is good. 
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Aimee and Myrtel
The Child of WonderAimee is believed to be an orphan, but her true origins are unknown. In fact the lithe young girl appears to know, or understand for that matter, not much more than anyone else. She was first discovered in the year 114NA wandering the western most coast of ArAken standing vigil and watching over the mystic lights that supposedly guard the shrouded isles of legend. By the young girls side flittered a brilliant light, a sprite some say while Aimee swears she is a woman of great beauty, that the young girl calls Myrtel. When asked of her reasons for being alone, Aimees only answer is that Myrtel wants to go home. She was quickly taken in by a small farm couple fleeing the unrest in the damned nation, and traveled the lands a refugee of war. Throughout it all she acted and appeared as a child, a child lacking the understanding of war and pain. She retained her childlike innocence and smiled often. Eventually Aimee, and her foster family, would make it to the eastern shores of ArAken, and sail the seas to the eastern worlds beyond. In the end, she would eventually wind up in the small, and quiet village, of Eradi where the first devastating signs of what this seemingly harmless child was capable of would rear in the aftermath of a rebuilding world.
Aimee was a sorceress of unimaginable power, a devastating vessel of in-born strength. She was a child however, and as such held no understanding of right or wrong Only good and bad, emotionally. She lived on feelings, her world revolved around her emotions. Her childhood innocence protected her from the evils of the world, but her childlike heart handled pain in a different matter entirely. After a harmless event of dumping a childhood tormentor in a nearby stream, Aimee would be hounded by the tormenting childs parents as evil and dangerous. Aimee understood nothing of the consequences of her actions. To Aimee the young girl had caused her pain with the bullying ways brought against her, and sought only to turn the hateful child away. Even though the child was unharmed beyond her pride, her parents were unrelenting. Eventually the entire village would turn against Aimee and her parents, especially considering their origins, and were labeled as an evil sent from the west. In fear, and emotional turmoil, Aimee would lash out against the town in order to protect herself. The results of a tormented childs outburst can be seen where the ruins of Eradi now stand. Unable to control her outcry, Aimees parents unfortunately would be lost, and once again an orphan, she would set out alone with only a strange sprite as her guide and protector.
Aimee journeyed to many places, and was the victim of many mis-dealings, the creators of which soon learned the error of their ways. From the fall of towns, to the deaths of unsavory slavers and villains, Aimee would continue on. Strangely, to this day Aimee wanders. Unchanged, un-aging, she wanders the world alone with only Myrtel at her side. Her quest, it seems, remains unchanged. To find a way home, and with a childs wish, to return her mysterious young friend to the place where she belongs. Who and what this child is remains a mystery lost in legends and whispers. Her true path may never be known.
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Trent thought this was the Ricky Martin Fan Club Forum and wrote:
Oh very nice, I like that history best I think. Even more than Marcus'.
I have Cynthia to thank for my inspiration, as she is the original walking disaster.
the Fae-art!
Here is a quickie sketch that I did last night though, to keep the thread alive.
Not a part of Aleria, but a character that I may or may not adapt to it. Depends on how much I like him after he gets tortured and mutilated and all that good stuff. 
I may or may not have anywhere to put him in Aleria. If I do however, credits of course. This is a joint character between me and Za. So he's kinda evolving on mutual effort.
Trent outta like this quick sketch
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Faelynn LeAndris had this to say about Tron:
Currently building the new adventure and players, so haven't had time to work these recently.Here is a quickie sketch that I did last night though, to keep the thread alive.
[xIMG]http://www.dreammedialtd.com/azra_quick.jpg[x/IMG]
Not a part of Aleria, but a character that I may or may not adapt to it. Depends on how much I like him after he gets tortured and mutilated and all that good stuff.
I may or may not have anywhere to put him in Aleria. If I do however, credits of course. This is a joint character between me and Za. So he's kinda evolving on mutual effort.
Trent outta like this quick sketch
I love that picture!
Looks like some sort of barbed tortue device.
Nice. [ 02-27-2003: Message edited by: Trent ]
Here is the newest entry. Now this one is both Legend, and Backstory. So it's a bit longer than all of the others, and done differently. It is kind of vital though. The sketches that go with it will be coming shortly, concidering I just now finished writing it.
Also, all the images were pulled a long time ago, if you want to see the images, and the history snippets all in one place you can go here:
Aleria - Heroes, Legends, and Myths
Now, onward.
quote:The Champion and the Seer Dolar Nyet Dolar Nyet was born in 257NA, and entered his life in torment. Centaurs were under the scourge at Dolars birth, and the newly arrived beings of darkness from the rift born in Sassara woods hunted the noble breed to near extinction. A young Dolar was left to watch as friends, and family around him died to the horrors from within. In an attempt to spare their young son, Dolars parents fled with their child to Elandórë in the hopes of escaping the darkness. A solid plan, so they assumed, but evil would follow the refugees, unknown to them. Other forces had designs on the young Centaur, fate among them, and a madness best left unnamed. Within months of finding safety within the wooded walls of Elandórë, Dolar would suffer loss once more, as through means unknown and a mystery to this day, his parents were slain and found dead. With no marks of violence, no outward sign of foul play, it was assumed illness or disease had been brought to Elandórë by the centaur family, and Dolar quickly found himself a pariah in his new home. Few accepted the young Centaur, and fewer still would even accept him as anything more than a curse.
Friendless and alone, at a young age, the centaur youth spent his early years in self-exile learning the woods and ways of survival just outside Elandórës walls. Eventually he would come to make friend of a young, and lithe, water sprite that lived nearby, and the two would be come fast, close friends. As time went by, and his skills improved, Dolar would soon find himself a part of the Shadow Hunters, elite hunter-killers of the shadow elves that raided the lands of the light dwellers. He would be renowned for his skills in combat and tactics, eventually gaining some semblance of respect from the people of Elandórë who had shunned him for years. For a time, his life had purpose, and at least in part, some happiness. But all too soon, the designs on his life long set before, would catch up with the refugee pawn, and Dolar would suffer loss and abandonment once more.
The Bosiane had long since been increasing their activities more south towards Elandórë, and rare, exotic slaves, were their targets. The friendly sprite who had adopted Dolar, so many years before as a child, was now taken as the spoils of thievery, and Dolar found himself in a plot much larger than himself in trying to get her back. His efforts to regain his friend from the fiendish Bosiane would prove futile in the end, and although her ultimate fate was unknown to the Centaur Ranger, he would watch her fall to injury. His world once more was falling apart, the last and only real friend he had known, lost.It would however be a new set of friends who would help him through this time of grief and self-hate, as a strange being, Bosiane like, would pull him from the fray to join another strange being, a beautiful human like female With a tail, and the ears of a large cat. It would not be long before the new friends, a trio of mismatched adventurers, would find themselves in the new beginning to an age old plot with an ominous outcome that would not come to fruition until centuries later. The Blood Wars had begun, and darkness was falling once more.
It would be during this dark time, the beginning of the Blood Wars, that Dolar, the lost soul, the abandoned child, the loner whom had lived day to day unsure of the path he was chosen to walk, and even less sure of the future that lay ahead, would gain the first hints of the designs the forces beyond him had long placed on his desolate life. Unfortunately with knowledge comes the weight of understanding, and Dolar quickly found this new burden impossibly heavy to bear. With the death of yet another friendship so short-lived, desolation would quickly return, and the young centaur could take no more. In the darkness of an unfamiliar home, in unfamiliar times, traveling with an unfamiliar group of allies, and suffering unwanted pain, the young Ranger would take his own life. He would die empty, lost, and alone in a dark shelter that too closely resembled the bleakness of his life.
As with all things in Aleria, however, death is not the end. Fate, and the powers that would be, were not done with the lost Dolar, and his adventures were far, far from over
Ione In the earlier centuries of the new age, darker things walked the land with man and elf; Things of pain, horror, and suffering. Twisted aberrations of madness and hate left from the breaking, and breeders of the old races, the beings before time and gods. Through the torturous ways of such creatures came the birth of the one known as Ione.
Born of an elven mother retrieved from the slavers pits of such horrors, a maiden fallen to madness long before she was recovered, Ione entered the world outcast and feared. Some demanded her death on sight of her disfigured appearance, others demanded forced bondage so as to use the supposed dark child against those horrors of whose lineage she carried. Luckily, in the end, compassion would win out, and the Monastery of Maenia, a small elven settlement in the newly formed Demerion, would take her in out of pity. So began her sheltered life, and a life destined for torment.
At first, only the nightmares came. Visions of death and despair, sights of the soulless walking amidst her bedchambers, were the first of her haunts. Clawing, grasping, the tortured dead beings whom had fallen in the years past, some of which to the conquest of Maenia during the not long passed Clan Wars, which had ravaged the nations for over a hundred years. The claims of the childs manifestations and nightmares both intrigued and frightened those of the habit in her sheltered divine home. Peace, and rest would soon fall beyond the young seers grasp, and darker things were yet to follow.
As her pseudo-guardians watched, and studied the young Ione, they noticed the beginnings of dark powers stirring within her as innate magic came to fruition as she aged. Magicks of destruction and darkness were at her beck and call. Sorceress born, Ione would spend years struggling with this awakening bit of her dark heritage. All the while darker, and more painful abilities lie in wait. It wouldnt be long however before they too would surface, and that would be the beginning of the young sorceress hopeless life beyond that of her birth. At first the consequences would be small, and held within only the walls of the Monastery. Having long since, in a way, learned to deal with the visions of those long dead walking among her, a new power began to surface as the young Ione made claims to her guardians of seeing their deaths before her. It took only one such predicted death coming to pass before the torturous experiments began.
Caged as an animal, bound in chains, and tortured daily, Ione quickly felt the first pangs of betrayal in her life as those who once cared for her huddled around in fear attempting to understand that which made her. The fear of evil had been strongly instilled in those who had once sheltered the young sorceress, and many attempts at exorcising this supposed evil from the childs being were performed. Shackles of thorns were bored into the wrists and ankles of the youth, and bands of silver smithed around the strange spines protruding from her back. All who examined her, studied her, considered the pain of such tortures worth the cost of freeing Ione from the evil within. To Ione it served only to remind her of how alone she truly was, and the cost of trust and closeness to anyone. She felt pain, she felt regret, she felt the sorrow at the lost love of the only parental figures she had ever known. In her own way, the tortured young girl, fell into a type of madness. Paranoia, anxiety, and fear all swirled within her tiny young mind. Such strong emotions of hurt, and sorrow bore down on her that the ability to hold the powers she held within dwindled. Like an animal, as after the time spent caged most began to consider her, even those who had originally stood up to take her in, the madness became too much and the torment that held all within broke free
When a lost, abandoned, and tormented child looked back on her one time home The ashes had almost settled, and only the dark smoke from the burning, collapsed, divine house remained.
Crossing Paths Ione, the wounded child, would wander Aleria for years in fear, paranoia, and madness. Her travels would take her to the darker places where few dared to tread. This suited the lost sorceress just as well, as she sought solitude and emptiness. The dead never rested, her dreams were always haunted, and she could never escape the torture of knowing the fates of all she passed. Those who didnt try to banish her as demon at any rate. Eventually the dark, foreboding woods of Sassara would open up before her, and in a way call to her. As if this was the place she needed to be. A land reserved for the damned, and the lost. A place of horrors and death. Yes, it suited her just fine. It would not be long however, before the woods claimed Ione as one of their own. Within her first nights stay, the young sorceress would find herself at the mercy of the woods mad inhabitants. A prisoner for a feast.
So rare as it is however, luck would step in at that point, and a doomed party on their own quest would find the entrapped Ione, and through their effort set her free. Among them would be a soon condemned young centaur. Ione felt a kinship to the lost Dolar as he stood, examining her, warily. She knew not how, or why, but she belonged with him somehow For some reason she did not yet know.
Their company was, at best, strained. Dolar unwanting of new relations, and Ione untrusting of those unknown, and known, to her, but the draw remained. For the first time in her life, since the dark powers awoke, she found a soul whos fate seemed shrouded to her. This made her feel both comforted and wary. It would take the meeting of a deranged goddess, in a house of madness, for the young Centaurs fate to become clear. Once it became known to Ione, she felt a sadness unfelt before, and then felt the pain of her doom again as she was forced to bear witness to the ill-fated end of her new, if strained, friendship. Death by his own hand, an empty death born of loneliness was the rangers fate, and Ione suffered with the knowledge in silence. She had long since learned that changing what she had seen proved fruitless, and only served to cause more harm than good. So quietly she suffered, alone she carried the future with her.
Ione soon found herself carrying more of a fondness for the doomed centaur as time went on, and for the first time in years, felt her paranoia subside. She had a friend, for however shorlived the friendship would be, at least she had one.
As thier adventures continued taking them down a darker and more ominous path, the bond between the young ranger and the damned seer grew. It was only a matter of time, as Ione knew, and it pained her every moment. As fate would have it, and it seemed as if it was the way it was supposed to be, Ione would be the one to discover the forlorn Dolars death in the stalls of a noble stable. Hung from the ceiling, like an offering for some cruel feast. In her grief, all her old pain would return, and be too much for her young body to bear. Her walls would return, and she would shutout the rest of the world. Not too long after Dolars death, the sorceress in inner turmoil would leave her companions of recent days, in the below ground dungeons of a demonic casino of deceit... Once again, to travel alone
Death and Rewards Dolar watched from his hanging perch through his new shadowy eyes as Ione entered the room, and succumbed to her discovery. He had liked her, in his own way. Although his past had taught him, friendships were doomed to bring pain, and refused to suffer through that again. Still, he did like her. He tried to call out to her, to let her know it was going to be okay, but it seems his soul was one soul, this cursed seer could not see. Someone could- see though, and someone was- watching Someone waiting, someone hidden. Dolar descended, in his new bodiless state, to the tile work of the stable floors. He walked across the room, passing by the unconscious Ione on the floor. There was a look of sadness on his face, a look of regret and just a little bit of guilt at her having discovered his fate, but he knew it was time to continue on. He walked over to the black robed figure in the shadows at the end of the room, and looked up into the empty dark cowl. It was time, and he knew it, death had come for him.
The angel of death, XethTangiel, however did not act immediately. He watched the approaching shade of Dolar, as the centaur solemnly came forward. He tilted his empty cowl a bit to the side, and examined the soul before him. As is his way, he weighed the worth of the doomed ranger, and what he saw both confused and intrigued him. All signs showed it was this particular youths time, but the fate of the soul was shadowed and unclear. The future was not through with him, but yet it was done with this life. He also saw something else, something beneath the coolness of the centaurs gate, as the ranger looked on at the unconscious form of the girl on the ground. Compassion, sadness, loss and affection. There was also something else A bond, an unclear one, but there nonetheless. Most intriguing indeed. However, something for now must be done, and the more XethTangiel weighed the soul of the dead centaur, the more use he saw in him. He had a role that this soul could fill, at least until its purpose became clear.When Dolar finally reached the shadowed figure, he looked up an into the blackness that was despair and emptiness. The shadowy expanse of the open hood that seemed to go forever enveloped him. Surrounded, and sucked in, Dolar watched the existence of his former life fade away. He soon learned, not to the beyond was he bound, but to Muranâth instead. He was to become a champion, a soul hunter. He would be the guardian of the window between life and death. He would be given the role, and responsibility for retrieving those who had escaped the land of the dead unjustly, or those stolen from its reprieve. A protector, a hunter, a leader of the lost. XethTangiel had chosen him, for reasons he did not know, and for the first time in his life, or unlife as the case may be, Dolar found himself secure in what it was he was supposed to do, and the position to which he had been chosen. He had direction, he had purpose For the first time in his life he- had a cause.
As he learned all this, and before his world slipped away completely, he turned back Just one final time. He looked back upon the young woman lying collapsed on the floor beneath his hanging corpse, and as his thoughts lingered there for a moment, a calm settled over him, and a caring, affectionate smiled crossed his face. At last He was at peace.Friendship is Eternal After leaving, on her own, to continue her own secluded life, Ione traveled far across the known lands. Her animosity, and to some extent, paranoia continued to haunt her enough to avoid taking hand in the simple life of rejoining civilization completely. Instead she took on the guise of Gypsy, a fortuneteller and vagabond. She was accepted, but not truly welcome, wherever she traveled, and the Gypsy guise kept outsiders at bay as it discouraged many to get too close. Which is just the way she liked it. Still Alone She often thought back on the days of her past. The longevity of life due to her elvan heritage, being both a bane and boon, made that possible. She would often wander back to her youth, and struggle through the painful memories. Always though, her attention would be drawn back to the one friend, as distant as he was, she had ever had. Dolar, a centaur, wrapped in depression and sorrow. She always lingered on him for some reason, and she really wasnt sure why. Still, he was as close to a friend as she had had in her life. She missed him.
It wasnt for an inability to have relations that kept her alone, she was barely out of youth by elvan standards, and quite attractive, aside from her disfigurement which she learned to disguise, by mortal standards still. She had had short-lived encounters in her life, even family in a way. A short living stay in the land of the Answan bore her children, but her fear and paranoia drove her away soon enough, leaving child and lover, a nobleman, behind. She still made it a point to travel back to Averindale every now and again to watch them, and to watch Nalirenya as she grew, but never stayed long for fear of attachment and the inevitable pain that would bring both her and her child. She had even taken on adopties, in the form of three young boys. She kept them with her, completing her guise as a gypsy and her sons, for many more years. Still, she missed her friend, in Dolar, and thought of him often.
On one dark, and particularly vicious night, Ione was traveling with her sons to make one of her longing visits to Averindale, and spied the fires in the sky in the distance. Black pillars of smoke, and red-rimmed clouds lined the horizon. Disaster had befallen the lands ahead, she had realized without much thought, and looking only slightly ahead she saw the shadowy figure of a man trudging through the snow carrying two bundles in his arms. She immediately saw the death that surrounded him, and knew he would die soon But it was strangely muted, as if it was not only his death, but a distant one as well. It struck her as odd, but she took the man in anyway, and what she now learned were his two small children. He looked familiar somehow as well, but she passed it off as a familiar face seen in passing. A part of her was saddened at seeing the children however, until is struck her There was a vital ness about them, something deathly important, but it was covered. Covered in darkness in hung about their tiny heads. They would know pain, they would know suffering, but somehow, she knew the must endure.
It wouldnt take long of course, for her vision of the man calling himself Lairus, a name she also noted was as familiar as his face but couldnt be placed, to fulfill the vision she had seen, and walk into the night with his children left by the fire, to be struck by death. She never found his body, and she never found him again after that, but she was sure his death had come to pass. She took on the charge of the children then, and devised a plan. She chose to seek out a one time companion, which she knew still lived, and ask her aide in caring for the children. It was something that must be done. Something vital. So to Syri she traveled, in search of the Templar, Samârik Izradî. A task vital, but a task that would lead her to her death, and be a part of the death of thousands.
Reaching Syri, realizing something deathly wrong, and the vision of a future damned, Ione stayed on to aid Samârik, in the war that was yet to come; The war that would destroy the Syrians, and their nation alike. As the Bosianes descended, and Syri was torn apart, Ione watched with horror filled eyes, not yet realizing she was watching through bodiless eyes as she fell in the first strike, as the children of Syri were sundered from the world. The horrors of her past returned. The devastation, the suffering, and the pain surrounded her. Once again, that madness she had finally begun to lock away threatened to descend. Then a figure showed through the ash and smoke, striding through the bodiless, and those living still fighting alike. It came confidently towards her, with a well-disciplined stride. The madness of her mind began to ebb somewhat, as the approaching figure seemed to chase it away. It was then that she realized, the figure walked not on two legs, but four, and its face was that of a memory long gone. With the long bow strung to his back, and a comforting hand outstretched towards her, Ione recognized Dolar standing before her. He smiled a bit, and raised his face towards her. He reached out a hand, and while looking at her with a reassuring nod, he said, Its time Ione Its time to come home.
With that, Ione smiled back, the first real smile of her life. For the first time in her life, Ione felt at peace.Continuation Dolar and Ione, continue to live on in Muranâth. By the side of a god and his queen, they serve, for all time, in a position of respect and import. They are the guardians and protectors, the gatherers of the lost The Champion and the Seer.
Edit: Ick formating [ 12-12-2003: Message edited by: Faelynn LeAndris ]
quote:o rly?/
Oh my Faelynn LeAndris:
Ohohoho I rez!
b&
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Katrinity had this to say about Punky Brewster:
Omg! Dolar lives!
..Sorta
It's not something people hear about.
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Check out the big brain on Sean!
..Sorta
He exists, he doesn't live.
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Niklas said this about your mom:
Onose, thread resurrection! B&!!
Less making the b&ed funnies and more reading the stories!
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Lashanna had this to say about Pirotess:
Pfft... Guess we'll have to make sure Dolar gets put down for good next time.
Unpossible. Besides, he and others like him, are the only reasons you still exist and are allowed to keep playing.
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Arttemis said this about your mom:
Hey do you still have the various histories I sent you for my characters, Fae? I don't have them anymore, and I'd like to take a look at them again, heh.
HOnestly, I dunno... I lost a lot of miscelaneous stuff when the PC crashed.
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Nobody really understood why Ares wrote:
Why are they broken for me...?
Look at the post dates and you'll see why.
Most of the pictures probably aren't on the webspace anymore.
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Nobody really understood why Arttemis wrote:
Look at the post dates and you'll see why.Most of the pictures probably aren't on the webspace anymore.
Sucks too, those drawings were really cool.
Fae, do you have them up on a website or anything?
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Check out the big brain on KaLourin!
he posted the link right before the story.
err, right 
Thanks
