| Regeneration : |
151 |
| Energetic immunity : |
149 |
| Trade sense : |
93 |
| Briskness : |
181 |
| Initiative : |
177 |
| Defence : |
804 |
| Attack : |
905 |
| Luck : |
77 |
| Power : |
163 |
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| Darkness Principle |
= 99 |
| Transposition Principle |
= 4000 |
| Principle of Imagination |
= 1795 |
| Principle of Light |
= 3463 |
| Principle of Enthropy |
= 1491 |
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Guardians of the Root
(Loreroot)
The oneness of your housing is at 6 % |
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| The runaway Princess |
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 (Image may be subject to copyright. Read the note at the end of this page.).
It's a sunny day today as I sit in midst of the tall grasses of Loreroot, under my favourite tree at the Stag Crossing finishing my papers, a job that I have procrastinated long enough. My name is 'Nimrodel' Millerna 'Clearwater' and I am an elf by birth. I am a flute player, or at least that's what I have become after coming to this realm. Who I was before and how I came here is... Quite a story.
I was born in the kingdom of Ethrwen. My father, Malon 'Firehelm', was known to be one of the best rulers of our dynasty. I have never ever known my mother. Being the daughter-heir to the throne, I was raised as a sorceress under the guidance of a powerful mortal witch. As far as I can remember, she was a beautiful woman, with an aura of mystery around her. Under her guidance, I learnt to channel all my positive and negative spirit energy in the form of orbs o power. I had mastered the weaving of 13 different orbs of power namely healing, truth, light dark, chaos, storm, time and space, knowledge, fire, love, greed, death, life and balance. Each had its own pros and cons.
I had nearly finished my education in sorcery, when my father discovered that Vicca, my teacher, was a dark witch and quite an ambitious one at that. She was arrested and condemned to death. But on the day of her execution, she managed to escape. And before she left, she cursed my father saying that he would lose what was most precious to him, and along with him, his entire empire would suffer.
Since that day, a fear plagued my father day and night. For some reason, I was locked up in my room and not allowed to step outside my room. For four full years, I was caged in my own home like a prisoner without being given any explanation for their conduct. One fateful night, I ran away.
 (Image may be subject to copyright. Read the note at the end of this page.).
I sought refuge in the forests of Ethrwen from my father's soldiers until one day I was cornered. I hid myself in the midst of the Labrynths of the white caves forgetting the fact that none who had entered before had managed to come out. For nearly a week, I wandered in the caves searching for an exit. Hunger, thirst, and weakness nearly killed me when, by chance, I fell through a magical barrier one day, into a seemingly enchanted forest.
 (Image may be subject to copyright. Read the note at the end of this page.).
The forest had no animals or creatures to interact with. But it was a haven giving me everything I could ever need to survive. I enjoyed my freedom immensely, till the shadow of loneliness started stalking me. I explored the entire forest for company, which I had longed for desperately, for nearly a fortnight, when I first saw it.
 (Image may be subject to copyright. Read the note at the end of this page.).
In a transparent crystal ball, was a tiny lizard trying to claw its way out. Remembering my plight in my castle, I took the ball in my hands and tried to open it. At that very moment, the orb started glowing and pulsating giving out fields of powerful magical energy, which started to destroy everything around me. Fearing that I had brought chaos in my haven, I wove the orb of time and space and tried to transfer the creature to a different dimension. That was probably the biggest mistake of my life. Because I was not able to control the weave of my orb, I was sucked into its darkness along with the creature in the crystal ball.
 (Image may be subject to copyright. Read the note at the end of this page.).
When I opened my eyes, I was in a strange cabin, filled with scrolls, devoid of a body. It seemed like I was a mere wisp. Since then, my body and soul have been governed by the laws of this land where there is no night. About the creature? Well, after I woke up, I didn't find any crystal ball nor did I find any creature. Everything was probably an illusion created by my own mind, driven insane with hunger and thirst. Or maybe the forest was a dimensional junction, and the orb, a key to this world. Whatever it was, it has been nearly 400 days since I have entered this world, adapting myself to it every moment.
 (Image may be subject to copyright. Read the note at the end of this page.).
The only fragment I seem to have retained from my past life is my ability to play the flute. I revive it everyday, moulding my nostalgia into music with the help of my flute, a flute created out of cedar, by Udgard, for me on my request. I call it Neen-Laer, meaning My Song.
 (Image may be subject to copyright. Read the note at the end of this page.).
I carry with myself two other items, A plastic spork, my weapon of choice, and the head of my most precious water being which i sacrificed at the wasp's altar.
 (Image may be subject to copyright. Read the note at the end of this page.).
 (Image may be subject to copyright. Read the note at the end of this page.).
As on today, this land has humbled my royal ego and I strive to make my mark under the guidance of and protection of Lord Firsanthalas, King of Loreroot.
 (Image may be subject to copyright. Read the note at the end of this page.).
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| My view of life: My favourite poetry |
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ALONE
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common string
From the same source i have not taken
My sorrow; i could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled,
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky,
As it passed me flying by,
from the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took form,
(When the rest of the Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view
-Edgar Allan Poe
If poisonous minerals, and if that tree
Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us,
If lecherous goats, if serpents envious
Cannot be damned, alas, why should I be?
Why should intent or reason, born in me,
Make sins, else equal, in me more heinous?
And Mercy being easy, and glorious
To God; in his stern wrath, why threatens he?
But who am I, that dare dispute with thee
O God? Oh! of thine only worthy blood,
And my tears, make a heavenly Lethean flood,
And drown in it my sin's black memory;
That thou remember them, some claim as debt,
I think it mercy, if thou wilt forget.
John Donne
A Dream Within A Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
-Edgar Allan Poe
Walking Around
It so happens I am sick of being a man.
And it happens that I walk into tailor shops and movie
houses
dried up, waterproof, like a swan made of felt
steering my way in a water of wombs and ashes.
The smell of barbershops makes me break into hoarse
sobs.
The only thing I want is to lie still like stones or wool.
The only thing I want is to see no more stores, no gardens,
no more goods, no spectacles, no elevators.
It so happens that I am sick of my feet and my nails
and my hair and my shadow.
It so happens I am sick of being a man.
Still it would be marvelous
to terrify a law clerk with a cut lily,
or kill a nun with a blow on the ear.
It would be great
to go through the streets with a green knife
letting out yells until I died of the cold.
I don't want to go on being a root in the dark,
insecure, stretched out, shivering with sleep,
going on down, into the moist guts of the earth,
taking in and thinking, eating every day.
I don't want so much misery.
I don't want to go on as a root and a tomb,
alone under the ground, a warehouse with corpses,
half frozen, dying of grief.
That's why Monday, when it sees me coming
with my convict face, blazes up like gasoline,
and it howls on its way like a wounded wheel,
and leaves tracks full of warm blood leading toward the
night.
And it pushes me into certain corners, into some moist
houses,
into hospitals where the bones fly out the window,
into shoe shops that smell like vinegar,
and certain streets hideous as cracks in the skin.
There are sulfur - colored birds, and hideous intestines
hanging over the doors of houses that I hate,
and there are false teeth forgotten in a coffeepot,
there are mirrors
that ought to have wept from shame and terror,
there are umbrellas everywhere, and venoms, and umbilical
cords.
I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes,
my rage, forgetting everything,
I walk by, going through office buildings and orthopedic
shops,
and courtyards with washing hanging from the line:
underwear, towels and shirts from which slow
dirty tears are falling.
-Pablo Neruda
I know why the caged bird sings
A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.
But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.
But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.
-Maya Angelou
Dream Deferred
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
-Langston Hughes
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| My achievements and My Advice |
 (Image may be subject to copyright. Read the note at the end of this page.).
Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
~ William Ernest Henley
Still I Rise
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
~Maya Angelou
Where The Mind Is Without Fear
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
~Rabindranath Tagore (Ravindranath Thakur)
Fast rode the knight
Fast rode the knight
With spurs, hot and reeking,
Ever waving an eager sword,
"To save my lady!"
Fast rode the knIght,
And leaped from saddle to war.
Men of steel flickered and gleamed
Like riot of silver lights,
And the gold of the knight's good banner
Still waved on a castle wall.
. . . . .
A horse,
Blowing, staggering, bloody thing,
Forgotten at foot of castle wall.
A horse
Dead at foot of castle wall.
~Stephen Crane
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| Page 508 - Seeds Of The East |
| They have all noticed a clear connection between the stone and the dark cloud gathering above them. Each time Handy tries to grab a piece of the stone, a more powerful shade attacks them, sometimes even two. Each time Liberty kills one the stone gives off less and less heat. "Akasha, call in Lifeline, I have a plan about how to make the stone cold enough so that Handy can grab a piece and also how to defeat any shade threat!" ... |
This story involves real player characters and updates every few hours.
Read the rest of the story in the game...you could become part of it |
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