New season will be kicking off soon, fresh map, new factions and quests, active admin team and weekly RP events. Come check us out soon!
The new season has officially launched and with it comes several new mods, new land claim and warfare rules, several new races and much more. Get in while it’s still early, come claim your land, build your kingdom and leave your mark!
The heavy stone slab scrapes loudly as it is pushed back, the dim light flooding the creature’s senses. Dust and decay are pervasive in the air, but the faithful stand quietly, peering into the blackness.
“Is it too early? Have we awoken her too soon?”
The elder sorcerer glares at the youth, his eyes warning him to speak nothing further.
For hours they stand, waiting for a sign from inside the ancient stone crypt. Finally, slowly, skeletal fingers grasp at the side of the sarcophagus. A withered corpse slowly pulls themselves up. The sorcerers grab the young captives and open their veins before pushing them within reach of the creature. It grabs the closest sacrifice and feeds, draining all of the blood from her before tossing her aside and grabbing the next. With each feeding the color returns to the creature, the hair becomes luxurious and thick, and the eyes begin to glow.
Once sated, the creature steps fully from the crypt, naked from the waist up, her pale skin glowing, her dark red hair flowing down past her hips, her eyes sharp as her gaze travels across those gathered.
“I see my faithful have remained. Let us celebrate!”
Something has awoken in the Exiled Lands and is spreading. Some will join, some will fight, most will hide, but none will escaped unscathed. Come see what’s happening on Maelstrom.
The creature growls, a low, primal sound that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
“Why have you come here!” demands the creature. “I want to become better, greater than I am. I want to enhance my senses and prowl as a predator does. I want to hunt and feel the ground beneath my feet.” The creature narrows its eyes, seeming to peer into her soul. It says nothing for many minutes before responding. “You must prove your worth. Prove you are deserving of this gift and do not return to me until you have done so. If I see you again before you have achieved what I set before you now, I will tear your limbs from your body and the last thing you will see is me devouring your organs.” The woman bows and backs away from the creature until she is fully removed from its sight before turning on her heels and running. She must either complete this task or hide for the remainder of her days.
Maelstrom is days away from unlocking advanced levels and character archetypes. Don’t miss out.
Level 300 advancement has been unlocked and archetypes are now available. Come enjoy the boosted exp and harvesting and pick your poison. Vampire, werewolf, shifter, cursed and blessed soul are all available, as well as additional researchable spells and a couple of new dungeons.
The girl wakes, her head pounding as her eyes adjust to the dark. She can feel the wet, sticky fluid that has partially dried on her cheek.
“Where am I? How did I get here?”
The man standing in front of her narrows his eyes, watching her closely for a long time before responding.
“You don’t know?”
She shakes her head as she tries to stand up, only to be pulled back down by the iron chains on her wrists.
“What is this? Why have you taken me?”
The man steps closer, pulling out a leather tome before kneeling down next to her. He begins to chant in a language she doesn’t understand. Suddenly her stomach lurches and she begins to vomit, black bile spewing from her mouth. She can’t speak and the pain feels like it will tear her apart. She tries to scream, voices in her head shrieking at her as she clutches her head. Her last sight is that of the man, standing over her, continuing to chant, then blackness.
Maelstrom’s archetypes are open, but they aren’t all unicorns and rainbows.
The attractive tiefling sits uncomfortably in her chair, aware of the eyes on her as she waits for her client. The ale is good, although she wants to try some of the speciality drinks next time. The Sleeping Giant Tavern and Inn is a relatively new establishment, but they have been very open to all that have crossed the threshold. She watches two women near the fireplace, their fingers intertwined, heads together whispering and smiling. The entertainer on the stage is engaging and makes regular eye contact with those watching her, and the barkeeps are equally attentive to the customers, seeming to know what they want before they even ask. She sighs and takes another small sip of her drink, watching the door. The tall figure ducks to get through the entrance, his eyes scanning the tavern before settling on Baeza. He smiles and nods to her, quickly making his way to the table. Baeza hopes this one will be able to help.
Jace runs along the shores of the river, trying to follow the tracks left by those who assaulted his village. He can’t possibly fight the entire group of slavers on his own, but he knows he also can’t stand by and do nothing. His father’s body remains where it fell, atop a pile of other bodies outside of the small huts. They fought valiantly and to their last breath, but the skill, numbers and ferocity of the slavers was just too much for the village to overcome. They went through and took every female under the age of 25 and killed the rest. Jace had been out gathering plants near the riverbank when he heard the commotion. He drew his weapon, ready to charge when he saw his father, still alive, although barely. His father shook his head and motioned him to wait. Jace stood helplessly and watched the events unfold, unable to save his family or his friends. That was two hours ago. Now he tracks and follows, hoping his skills will be enough to lead him to the camp. Once he knows where the women were taken, he can come up with a plan of rescue. The Wistful Jackals, the local adventurer’s guild, often offered their services to those with coin to pay. The Order, the arcane guild, may also have a hand to offer if his price is right. He knows he will have options, but only if he can locate the main slaver camp. He pushes through the night, refusing to give in to his exhaustion and grief. He will rescue those who were taken, one way or another.
The man stands gazing out of the window at the top of his tall, stone tower. The darkening sky matches his mood. His blue eyes search to the horizon for any movement, any sign of life, but finds nothing. He curses under his breath, he was sure this time the ritual would work. He turns on his heels and strides back to his desk, pulling the parchment out to look more closely at his calculations. He has felt the shaking, he knows there are others attempting to open a bridge to another location, but he can’t quite pinpoint where that is happening. Perhaps the person attempting is not focusing on one area and is, instead, attempting different locations. It would explain his inability to attach his own ritual to the one being performed. He sits down and stretches his neck from side to side, the bones cracking as he does. He pulls out his quill and begins his calculations anew, this time trying to account for an unknown origin point. He knows he will be successful at some point.
SEASON OF THE DRAGONS HAS LAUNCHED!
The flashing of claws, teeth and magic continues without interruption, the great creatures unaware of the change in their surroundings, blinded by their rage and single-minded focus. Kairseg lashes out at the gold scales in front of him, his claws raking across Auricalthus’ left flank as Lorizuu breathes a cone of cold, blasting across the front line of the chromatics. Onoseklis screeches loudly, turning her head to avoid the attack and dives toward the ground, landing heavily on one of the wooden and stone structures beneath her, losing her footing and tumbling headlong into another building. The walls of the structure crumble, dust and debris kicking up into the air, momentarily obscuring her immediate view. She stands, looking around her at the strange area , but is hit again with a blast of fire before turning her full attention back to the fight. She launches into the air and returns to the fray.
Aiden Kell sounds the alarm and the Wistful Jackals organize the rushed evacuation, everyone taking only what they have on them and fleeing. For weeks the dragons fight without end, unconcerned or unaware of the inhabitants around them. The tear in the sky that spit them out closes after only a few moments, long enough to spew out at least a dozen dragons in the midst of their battle. New Haven stands directly beneath the portal. The buildings in ruins following the first day of fighting, the inhabitants scattering in terror and confusion at the alien sight before them. Never before has anyone in the Exiled Lands seen a dragon with flight, let alone a group of them engaged in all out combat with one another. The dragons destroy all in their path, settlements gone with a breath. Scorched land and corpses litter the horizon. A few intrepid survivors watch from sheltered locations, trying when they could to pull the injured out of harm’s way.
More than a month passes before the fighting subsides, dragon corpses scattered from the desert up to the north and across to the green jungles. New Haven is gone, and a new refugee area is established along the river. The nearby Darfari camp provides unintentional cover for the Exiles, keeping most of the wildlife at bay while the initial construction begins. The Wistful Jackals easily hold off the raids and incursions until eventually an uneasy peace was established, New Haven, now Crescent Cove, would remain unmolested provided they leave the Darfari camp alone. The boundaries are to be respected, but any who unknowingly venture beyond Crescent Cove do so at their own peril. The newly formed group quickly establishes communication with other groups of survivors, setting up outposts in the far north for those who were unable to make it south, and in the jungle to the east. The survivors remain hidden, taking refuge where they can while the dragons spend their rage. Their numbers drop and one by one they retreat to unknown areas to lick their wounds and recover. What they want, why they are here, and what this means for the inhabitants of the Exiled Lands is unknown at this time.
Onoskelis looks toward Xirium, her frustration clear on her face.
“As expected, the metallics have warned others away from seeking me out for their cure, despite me being the only way they can address it. I believe, for the health of all of us, I need to provide a way for the Exiles to approach me in a way that does not threaten them. If this madness continues to spread, not only will it increase the hold of those causing it, it also threatens our ability to find a way home.”
Xirium looks over at Onoseklis, popping a grape into his mouth and rolling his eyes,
“These creatures do not deserve your attention, but I understand the need to address it.”
Onoskelis walks to her apothecary and rummages through her supplies.
“We need to gather a few things in preparation. Once I have those items, I will arrange for a group excursion into the minds of those who have become infected. It won’t be pretty, we will face the fears and nightmares of those who are present, and those creatures must be defeated, but once we do that, it should provide some relief for their troubled minds.”
She writes a few items down on a parchment and hands it to Xirium,
“Send our servants out to get these things right away. Most can be found near the water, some will require a journey a bit farther. We also need to get the word out to those who are now too afraid to contact us.”
Xirium sighs, standing reluctantly and taking the parchment before turning on his heels and striding out of the room.
The outer gods have taken notice and are trying to pry their way into the Exiled Lands. Will you be able to stop their spread or will you succumb to the insanity they spread? Come find out on Maelstrom.