[Jezebel]

... news from the West being delivered by his quickest hounds.

The night was frosty and damp. Algaris sat undisturbed, his gaze piercing the shadows so deep that they seemed to sink away from him in fear. Slowly he raised his hand and began thumbing the dusty amulet which hung from his neck; it was warm. Algaris' scowl transformed into a wicked grin.

Off in the distance, the faint calls of wild hounds rode in on the icy wind. The news was here...

[MrPumpernickel]

...with the help of the strongest, and only surviving hound, Amlag. The loyal beast brought the news of queen Areifir's death as the last survivor of the plague which spread among the royals in the neighbouring kingdoms. The lands in the West was now without a ruler, but would the king...


(sorry, can't type more...gotta go to...*nods off*...zzzzzzzzzzzzzz)

[ April 25, 2001: Message edited by: MrPumpernickel ]

[v1510nAry]

From the topic you've already got the jist of the game

Don't know if this will Work but what the hey might as well give it a try :/
I'll Start it off, with something orginal

" Once Upon a time :P There were Evil Pixes, deep within a forest a forest of mystery of ignorace and Evilness most of all, but there was 1 thing which stuck out the most which was ......."

If u haven't got the jist of it, Carry on the Story

[fireheart]

the great fungus throne grrund. Upon this throne the evil pixie king Algaris would sit chewing upon the bones of those unfortunate enough to be caught in the forest.

Deep within the forest the wind howled rippling an eerie fog across the landscape. Algaris sat upon his throne his eyes blazing a deep crimson as he waited for…

(Ack typos)

[ April 25, 2001: Message edited by: fireheart ]

[ April 25, 2001: Message edited by: fireheart ]

[Socar MYLES]

...but would the king send out the blood-crows now, spreading the Revenant Plague throughout the Five Realms on fleabitten wings? Or would he take the sadistic route and wait, allowing the shattered populace to regroup, to reclaim some shred of forlorn hope, before beating them down again?

Algaris stroked his beard in a slow, masturbatory motion. The oil from his palm had sculpted his goatee into a malevolent spike, as befit the High Regent of the Forest, and soon-to-ascend Emperor of the Five Realms. He would wait, he decided--bide his time in the forest, amidst his racks of poisons and pestilences. The Rat Plague had wiped out a good half of the peasant population, and most of the royals to boot. He'd let the corpses moulder for a week or two, get themselves good and ripe, and then the bloodbirds would fly, and the dead would walk again in Cyrillia.

He cackled evilly, admiring his reflection in his hellhound's flat black eyes.

(Yeah, yeah, yeah. I should stick to drawing, already.)