magusbloodreaper-blog1 - Tumblr blog

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This elf... had magic eyes. Magus swore it. The way they enchanted him. And yes, Elves were considered magical creatures, but this - this was different.

Excerpt, "The Rise of Magus".

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It's grass, Thorg. Grass. Like you've never seen it before.

Grog - "The Rise of Magus"

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Holy crap this book is going to be awesome. I can't believe the other RPers are ignoring you. Are they nuts?

Thanks for the compliments. I assume the other RPers are upset with me because I just stopped Role-Playing without notice which isn't what you do. You tell people. I didn't. I've attempted to contact people, but many of my old friends have also stopped.

If any of them are reading from somewhere, I find what I am doing to be much more engaging. No frustrating derailed threads that end in frustration.

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Two Choices (Dialog From "The Rise of Magus")

GROG: You have two choices. The first is a stripped down inspection of your ship. The second is turning around and getting the hell out of my port.

DRUNKEN ORC: I like third choice. Beat face in.

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Hang about for a moment. This may not be pretty. Orcs can be – short- tempered, poorly spoken, and frankly, smell of rotten onions. And that's when they're clean. Having been on this ship as long as they have, I'd say it's more like Fermented Boar Stomachs....

Grog, The Orcan Warrior - "The Rise of Magus"

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Death isn't the end, but a transition.

My muse isn't going to make the night. While trying to make them comfortable, what are your last words to them?

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Teaser: The Counting House In Clestead

Magus sat down at the desk and looked about the house. It was candle lit, and overlooked the Harbor with a grand view. One could see everything from here. There were various shelves with all sorts of books ranging in subject from “The Great Elf Migration of 345” to “How To Spot A Toss-Pot”. There was a fireplace and cooking area where a pot of tea was keeping warm, and the fire kept as low as possible as to not overheat the Counting House which was already muggy due to the tropical climate and fire combining to make things rather unpleasant.

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Silverwood Forest seemed to be under the curse of constant Winter. Some thought it picturesque, but then, they didn't live there, did they? It was enough for a hunting party dress in shoddy clothing and start playing hymns from 'Tales Of The Hopeless', and nobody wanted that because hunters rarely carried a talent for singing.

Paragraph from "The Rise Of Magus" by Lord Vincithias.

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“Palm trees! Caw, I bet there's some of those Chocolate Nuts in some of them, too!

Brictric the Woodward Glacier-Gnome, "The Rise Of Magus".

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The most powerful aren't the ones who end up in charge, rather, the ones who have the most power already. Some say gold and silver is power, but I think magic rules over all.

Magus - "The Rise of Magus"

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I'm Brictric the Woodward. But, Bric is just fine. I fix things. And – I break things. If they was fixed to begin with, I breaks 'em, but then I knows how they works. If they broke, I can fix 'em if I broke one before.

Brictric The Woodward, "The Rise of Magus"

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The Rise Part 1 - "The Beginning"

A smokey valley lay before the land of Riser, a brisk dawn brewing an unsettled day. As the sun cast it's first rays upon the vast expanse, it soon became evident: A war had happened.

Actually, to call it a war would be an injustice. Women were raped, men murdered, daughters - well, we shan't talk about it then. A young man clawed his way up a rigid cliff, blood and soot tracing his face. He breathed heavily and wiped his mouth. He carefully pulled himself over the cliff, and staggered to his feet. Small fires littered the scorched village. Nothing was left. A few people were about, trying to make sense of the mess that occurred. There was crying and moaning. Others could make no sound at all.

The young man was Magus Blackheart. Orphaned, then adopted, only to find, he was still an orphan. The family that took him in always treated him a bit different. Not badly, mind you, but he never felt a part either.

"You! Boy! Stop wandering about!" spat a soldier. "Get with the other scum, where you belong!" He said seizing Magus' arm and forcing him towards a small group of people.

Magus found himself in the midst of a band of mixed nuts. Really. One man kept saying, "Onions." Strange. Another, a woman of 36 was knitting. Without needles or material of any kind. The last, an quirky looking man looked up, and, was the only one to speak to Magus.

"Ignore them. Door shot it's bolt, as they say," his gruff voice croaked. He motioned to a stone. "Sit. We may be here a while."

Magus sat. "It's a blur... I hardly know what's real."

“Nor do I. Not that it matters much. Least I'm not knitting an invisible vestige,” he said with a grin. “Ilossanya Kassat is my name. Hungry?” He was tending a fire and preparing something that looked across from eels and curdled milk.

“Not any more,” Magus answered quietly.

“Oh, I know, it looks horrible,” Ilossanya chuckled. “It tastes a bit like Prawn. Without the pointy edges, though.” He served some of the meat onto a plate and began eating. “So, you're the Maven's kid, right?”

“So to speak,” replied Magus. “Orphaned, they took me in, is all.”

At this, Ilossanya looked up, rubbing his chin, clearly intrigued. “Oi, that's ironic now, isn't it. That's twice, it is.”

Magus seized a stick and poked at the fire, deep in thought. “Suppose it's luck, or bad luck anyway. The man that was my father, well, he kind of always kept me aside. Never treated me bad, the Celebration of Killonj was always nice, always got nice things. But – well, it was different.”

“Blimey, I've not celebrated Killonj since my folks died in the great Vermin migration of 1312. No point. Was on my own at 16.”

“You're orphaned as well?” Magus asked, surprised.

“Well, you could call it that. But that was my true family. What of yours?”

“You mean blood? No idea. Mystery,” Magus replied.

Two soldiers approached the group. “Alright, listen up. We just received word from the Countess herself. You all are on your own. You may leave, but you can't stay here. This is her land now. All of the land throughout Silverwood forest, in fact. So off with ya.”

Another group of soldiers came and seized the people by their shoulders and pushed them off, along with Magus and Ilossanya. They had nothing, really. No food. No clothing. And where to go?

“Well what the hell do they think we should do, then?” demanded Ilossanya.

“Just walk, we'll figure something out.”

After an hour of walking and empty conversation, once Magus was sure they were out of range of any unwanted eavesdropping, he withdrew a parchment from his cloak and stopped, un-rolling it.

Ilossanya looked surprised. “That's all of Nerith! A map like that – it's a bit rare.”

Magus was scanning the map quietly. “Yes, and it's the only clue I have as to who my parents were. Ok, we're here just above the Tenebrous sea. The Bastion of the Demon Countess is above us. It looks to be 2 days journey to Ravenwood Forest which is out of her territory. I don't think anyone from Manfech should give us any trouble. The town is fairly peaceful. In fact, it may be prudent to stop there and acquire some goods for survival.”

Ilossanya was stunned. Magus was an obvious leader, whether he meant to be or not. The others had wandered off on their own, and given the nature of their newly acquired dementia, it was a liability that they were best relieved of. “Well, I guess we're a team, then,” he said with a weak smile.

Just as Magus suspected, it was 2 days before they arrived in Manfech. The small town was bustling, they had arrived just about lunch time. The market was quite busy as the two strangers wandered through. They happened on a Tavern and entered at Magus' insistence that this would be the best place to pick up any news worth hearing.

They sat, and for a few copper pieces, started enjoying an ale and ordered the beef which looked at least, edible. They had to dig a little deeper for some silver for the meal. No sooner had they sat down at a large and worn wooden table, then a conversation came into their ears from the table next to them.

“They say it's that ruddy Countess again. Deciding she wants more land,” said a salty looking man who sipped a barley wine.

His friend, older, nearing his golden years one may have observed, disagreed. “She's a pawn, Marley. Come now, you don't think she could move without the blessing of The Divining Three-hundred. They have a say in everything.”

Illosanya gasped. “The Divining Three-hundred! A secret society of sourcerers.”

“The Divining Three-hundred? I've not heard of them.”

Illosanya became all hushed, as though sharing a deep, dark secret. “It's said that a dark legion of wizards formed a thousand years ago, but in secret. They drink expensive wine, stay in very posh Inns, and make deals with rulers of Nerith. In exchange for magical protection, of course. Very dodgy.”

The two men continued their conversation. The one called Marley waved his hand dismissively. “The Divining Three-hundred is just a far-fetched legend, Boffo. No point in draggin' that out again.”

“'Snot a myth, Marley. It just isn't. But say what ya want.”

Magus stood up. “Come, let's get our supplies and head to Ravenwood Forest. Nightfall is in just a few short hours. We need to make camp.”

They gathered food and a tent from a local tent-maker who thought she should get 20 gold pices for a tent made from Camel Hair. In the end, Magus bargained her to a simple Canvas tent that he knew to be quite weather proof and probably over paid by 32 silver pieces. They then retired to the forest and journeyed about a half hour into it before picking out a clearing just 30 yards from a fresh brook. The tent was erected, a fire pit was built, and large stones with flat ends moved before the fire as a place to sit. The fire was lit and, at last, the two new friends relaxed before the fire.

“I fancy heading to that brook and scrubbing up a bit tomorrow,” said Illosanya quietly, just above the crackling of the fire. “Reckon I smell a bit like sour Falun Berries.”

“I think it's a good idea for us both.”

“I'm finished, I'll see you when you turn in,” said Illosanya rising. He headed to their tent and disappeared, leaving Magus to his thoughts.

Magus withdrew a small bound book from his cloak, the only other item he carried besides the map, and opened it. It revealed one big piece of the puzzle, and something he kept a secret his whole life. Magus was a wizard. He had told no one because he wasn't sure what it would mean. It troubled him at times. Who else knew? Would anyone seek him out? He had rather enjoyed the company of his new friend, Illosanya. But how would he take it? Would he recoil as if Magus had some disease? This same line of thinking had held him prisoner when he was living with the Mavens. He closed the book. Now that things had changed, perhaps the time had come to search for answers. Beginning tomorrow.

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The Kingdom of Nerith, Where Magus Is From. LARGE file, open in another browser, use the zoom tool.

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Greetings, knaves. Guess who is back? Magus has undergone a makeover. Keep your eyes here, you'll soon piece together the story.

Vincithias

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OOC: Hey all, I'm still alive. I'm studying for an important DOT test so I've had to pause writing for a bit. Trying to get a new job.

Vin, Mun

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Open Starter: Drained

With a sudden motion, Magus seized the man before him and bit his neck savagely and drained him. When he was done he threw the dead corpse to the ground, wiping his mouth. "You'll never hurt an innocent again!" he spat.

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OOC: RESET! I'm sorry, but I've lost track of a number of threads. Tumblr's new setup is awful and I am losing people. 2 people have unfollowed me over it. I am NOT doing it on purpose. Therefore, with the exception of HiddenInTheManor, I am dropping everything and restarting. If you want to keep your thread with me going, INBOX ME ASAP.