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05-20-2002, 01:04 PM

This is the story of a sword, a sword that had existed for more than many human lifetimes, and that had brought an end to more lifetimes than one may count. This is the story of a sword that killed kings, destroyed kingdoms, saved helpless people in danger and created heroes that went on time to become legends or even more: myths.

It all started when the world was young and rich, when time was friendly, when forests went deep into the land, when the mountains were unexplored and everything was new. In those days, there was a dragon, a fierce red dragon with wide spreading wings, fire burning breath, heart freezing eyes, stone hard skin and god-like anger. This dragon was and is, for he still lives, Smyern. Smyern was the Lord of many many lands, feared and hated in all corners of the Earth, every living being who could speak was afraid of saying his name, al that could listen were afraid of listening to his name.

Smyern was omnipotent in his will, and nothing could stop him, until, one day, the gods were bothered by him. Not that Smyern would challenge the gods, but these gods thought that Smyenr was not letting the world blossom into all the beauties that they, the gods, had forseen. Se the 9 mighty gods united and decided to put an end to Smyern’s realm of terror. The 9 mighty decided to send a holy warrior, of remarkable power, unique strength, solid determination and pure will to challenge and destroy Smyern. So then they created Horus.

Horus was sent to the world to challenge Smyern, and so he did.

Horus and Smyern fought for years and years. They destroyed much of the world, flattened mountains, dissipated landscapes, displayed more power than these words may describe. After timeless fighting, Horus defeated Smyern, as he struck his mighty blade deep into Smyern’s chest, but Horus perished. For Horus was in flames as he gave his last blow, and the flames consumed him, leaving nothing but his sword inside Smyern’s chest.

Smyern fell to the ground and slept for eras and eras, having the world regrown under and over him. On the day Smyern awoke, he had less than a shadow of all the powers he once had, and he then decided to fly to the Dragon Lands, where all dragons go when they are ready to meet eternity. Smyern dwells there now. But Horu’s bade was still in Smyern’s chest as he woke up, and it got lose from Smyern’s chest when he awoke, having fallen to the ground. But Howu’s blade had been in Smyern for so long, that it had become stained red as Smyern’s blood once were, and such stain was eternal, so it became the Crimson Sword.

Many Men, Elves, Dwarves, Gnomes came across the Crimson Sword through time, and each of them claimed it to themselves, and the Crimson Sword was taken from and to all parts of the world until the day it came to the hands of King Rafflensher XXIII, of the Kingdom of Rafflensher.

Rafflensher XXIII, as all of the kings that had preceded him, died in combat. Rafflensher died in the Hill Lands of Tor-Naman, and the Orcs of Tor-Naman laid their hands of the Crimson Sword and they took it deep into the Rargtor Mountains.

You, my dear RP players, are what is left of the Rafflensher’s Royal Guard, and you must be on a journey to claim back the Sword that was once of Rafflensher XXIII. The journey starts as you leave the gates of the Rafflensher castle, you shall only return once the Crimson Sword is recovered.

The first part of your journey shall be getting on the road and heading towards Wyilin, the last city of the Kingdom of Rafflensher.

05-20-2002, 01:04 PM	#2
Arcanjo Guest Posts: n/a	This is the story of a sword, a sword that had existed for more than many human lifetimes, and that had brought an end to more lifetimes than one may count. This is the story of a sword that killed kings, destroyed kingdoms, saved helpless people in danger and created heroes that went on time to become legends or even more: myths. It all started when the world was young and rich, when time was friendly, when forests went deep into the land, when the mountains were unexplored and everything was new. In those days, there was a dragon, a fierce red dragon with wide spreading wings, fire burning breath, heart freezing eyes, stone hard skin and god-like anger. This dragon was and is, for he still lives, Smyern. Smyern was the Lord of many many lands, feared and hated in all corners of the Earth, every living being who could speak was afraid of saying his name, al that could listen were afraid of listening to his name. Smyern was omnipotent in his will, and nothing could stop him, until, one day, the gods were bothered by him. Not that Smyern would challenge the gods, but these gods thought that Smyenr was not letting the world blossom into all the beauties that they, the gods, had forseen. Se the 9 mighty gods united and decided to put an end to Smyern’s realm of terror. The 9 mighty decided to send a holy warrior, of remarkable power, unique strength, solid determination and pure will to challenge and destroy Smyern. So then they created Horus. Horus was sent to the world to challenge Smyern, and so he did. Horus and Smyern fought for years and years. They destroyed much of the world, flattened mountains, dissipated landscapes, displayed more power than these words may describe. After timeless fighting, Horus defeated Smyern, as he struck his mighty blade deep into Smyern’s chest, but Horus perished. For Horus was in flames as he gave his last blow, and the flames consumed him, leaving nothing but his sword inside Smyern’s chest. Smyern fell to the ground and slept for eras and eras, having the world regrown under and over him. On the day Smyern awoke, he had less than a shadow of all the powers he once had, and he then decided to fly to the Dragon Lands, where all dragons go when they are ready to meet eternity. Smyern dwells there now. But Horu’s bade was still in Smyern’s chest as he woke up, and it got lose from Smyern’s chest when he awoke, having fallen to the ground. But Howu’s blade had been in Smyern for so long, that it had become stained red as Smyern’s blood once were, and such stain was eternal, so it became the Crimson Sword. Many Men, Elves, Dwarves, Gnomes came across the Crimson Sword through time, and each of them claimed it to themselves, and the Crimson Sword was taken from and to all parts of the world until the day it came to the hands of King Rafflensher XXIII, of the Kingdom of Rafflensher. Rafflensher XXIII, as all of the kings that had preceded him, died in combat. Rafflensher died in the Hill Lands of Tor-Naman, and the Orcs of Tor-Naman laid their hands of the Crimson Sword and they took it deep into the Rargtor Mountains. You, my dear RP players, are what is left of the Rafflensher’s Royal Guard, and you must be on a journey to claim back the Sword that was once of Rafflensher XXIII. The journey starts as you leave the gates of the Rafflensher castle, you shall only return once the Crimson Sword is recovered. The first part of your journey shall be getting on the road and heading towards Wyilin, the last city of the Kingdom of Rafflensher.