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the adventures of reine du fromage de blight

this is my blog of the mostest awesome mmo currently available! go to www.istaria.com for more information!

Author: velveeta

the end of a 7 year promise

Posted by velveeta Saturday June 26 2010 at 12:07PM
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the warmest of greetings, my beloved queen, and may the gods continue to rain blessings on our dear realm of blight!

yesterday, i was allowed to witness an event that has taken many seasons to come about. great order's eternal hatchie, tagath, has been released from a promise made and decided to ascend to adulthood!

as your official representative to order, i was invited to take part in the ceremony. bipeds are required to obtain a token of esteem in order to access the peak of storms, the traditional ascension place of dragonkind. therefore, i waited with a group of revelers in dralk until the guest of honor arrived and we all headed to the hermit's cave. majesty, who, can you guess, did i met for the first time at the gathering? after you spoke of her so much and so fairly, i felt as if i know the lovely aine instantaneously! i expressed your feelings of longing and sadness at her absence from blight, and she has promised to try to come home and pay her respects.....

once we met at lantenal's cave, tagath acquired the needed tokens and we were allowed to pass to the portal.

my first sight of the peak was dark and dismal, to my eyes and with no offense to dragonkind meant!
i had heard tales that in the old days, the road to the peak was fraught with danger, with withered aegis harrassing all travellers. you yourself spun yarns of the times you perished attending ascensions, thru fault of your own and none of your companions. however, i was assured this was no longer the case, and this is the truth. not one foe was seen or even sensed as we climbed the road to the peak.

soon, we reached the guardian of the peak of storms, hethas the patient. i was greeted as all such ancient dragons greet the 'naka', which is to say minimally. we gathered around tagath as he stood on the peak platform overlooking the sacred volcano.

once we had all settled, tagath began the transformation, the bubble expanding and contracting while we waiting in breathless anticipation to greet the new adult.
as with all adult dragons, tagath immediately took to the sky, soaring up toward the moon as fireworks, dragons, and more dragons joined in to celebrate the new adult.

i am grateful to the warm and gracious people of order, who made me most welcome to a private ceremony. i extended your thanks and gratitude to tagath and the party, and added all of my own as well. may the wings of tagath and all dragons never tire, and may they provide protection and friendship to all people of istaria!

that is all for now, my liege, and i hope this report pleases and informs you. blessings of all the gods on you and my beloved blight!


(o and awdz, i have a favor to ask of you or any kind tailor of order - thicklesip would love to have a emerald celestial robe, if someone could make one....not sure what i can do for you in return as derexx, but if you ever get to blight, you can ask whatever is in the queen's power to grant!)

some much needed good news for blight shard

Posted by velveeta Sunday June 20 2010 at 2:49PM
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HEAR YE! HEAR YE! THE CROWN DEMANDS A CELEBRATION OF PRAISE AND THANX!

the queen has had business in far realms for a long, much too long a time and has recently returned to find great and wonderful changes in blight.
the gods work in mysterious and unknowable ways, but prove their compassion at times - showing us mere mortals that what they can take away, they can also give back. for this benevolence, the queen requires that all citizens of istaria, no matter their realm, to give many praises and prayers of thanx to our beloved and mighty gods!

for us of blight, these are great changes, indeed. once upon a time, we had a god who loved us above all others. thru no fault of the current deities, he was lost to us. however, our new gods, loving in their actions, have seen fit to return mighty illyist, may his name be forever praised, to his home - not, of course, our god come again, merely an avatar. however, it shows to us that our wonderful patron is not forgotten and will not be forgotten by blight:


the gods do always answer prayers, just that sometimes not in the way we might wish. the decision to excile the wench nadia and her kin was a bitter pill for we of blight, in particular, to swallow. however, we had resigned to never having dealing with her again, even tho allegation of price gouging and consumer fraud seemed to follow her constantly...
nevertheless, we missed her and the handy if painfully expensive wares she provided. we complained, but the gods held firm, and thus we mourned and despaired......
and lo! the gods heard our cries and reversed their cold decision! rejoice with us that our prodigal gold digger has returned to our loving embrace:


and much more importantly, she has brought her wares with her:


as self proclaimed monarch of blight, i offer my most sincere thanx for these wonderful additions to our lives! may the gods display their wisdom and mercy to us for the millions of years!
huzzah for the lords of horizons, may we have them until time and times are done!

derexx's story

Posted by velveeta Tuesday June 15 2010 at 1:17AM
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(here is my 'envoy' to order - derexx.  those 2 of you who occasionally follow this blog will recognize him....)

Yes, yes, I know – everyone thinks satyrs spend the days in frolic and carnal pleasure, cavorting and swilling and indulging in joy for every breath. Blame not the bearer for the bad news, my friend.


I am surrounded by damp and dark and din. I am covered in wet stickiness that smells of copper and terror. The clarity of time has convinced me the noise was the wind in the trees and the animal rustling of the underbrush – not the screams of the dying people and the movement of assassins thru the woods of my home. The combination of stenches assaulting my nose makes me want to sneeze, but the voices in my head beg me not to. The feminine one pleads for me to stay small, stay hidden; the masculine one tells me to be silent and make no move. The more desperate I am to flee this place and find a measure of peace, the more desperately the voices entreat me to remain.

Eventually the last breeze blows, the last animal settles, and the terrible green sky turns to a bright, deceptively comforting blue and gold. The voices lose their sharp edge and turn soft, lulling me to sleep, still curled like a fetus in the womb within the gloom of my hiding place.


The day passed to night and back to day again before I awoke. The horrible smell still resonated, but the quiet seemed like a comfortable blanket I was reluctant to disturb. But hunger and the voices urged me to climb out, be reborn into whatever new world awaited me. I seemed to be buried in a tiny hollow formed when a tree fell and rotted from the inside out. Where the disintegrating bark met the receptive soil, the ground was soft and easy to dig thru. After several minutes, I released myself from my underground womb. In the light of day, the scene before me looked hazy, like the aftermath of a nightmare. All the people I had known, friend and acquaintance and kin, lay strewn about the village like clothes blown from the line in a summer storm. Pieces of flesh, discolored from advanced decay, and clean bones dropped like hints littered the ground, glowing a sickly green that cast a vicious tint on the remains of satyrs.


My grief caused me to sink slowly, my blood soaked garments cracking and popping and impeding my descent. My cries drowned out the voices in my head – or perhaps mingled with them.


All things end, and grief is a thing. The will to survive began to exert control over my survivor’s guilt, and the voices began to make themselves heard again. The female voice was concerned with food and clean clothes, and began to demand I find something to eat to regain my strength. The male urged me to seek arms to defend myself from future attack, and to make my way to a town for help. My head rebelled, but my hunger combined with the voices compelled me to pretend not to see the things I had to move aside in my searching. By the time I finished, night was almost ready to fall, and my voices urged me to hide again and rest for the coming day.


The voices woke me several hours before daybreak, advising me that it would be easier to see the green sky that always hovered over the enemy in the darkness. Cautiously, I crept toward an imperial road that led to the next nearest town. Far off, I could see a green glow, making a path of horror to lead death on. It seemed to be heading to a little explored edge of the world, far from the wholesomeness I once knew.


As dawn began, I found the road. I knew it led to the portal city of Bristugo, and from there, I determined to make my way to the palace of the queen; our village was remote, even by satyr standards, and news could not have travelled much faster than I, even if any others had survived the attack.


On my way, I told all I met about the attack, and was told my enemy was known as the Withered Aegis, a collection and coalition of undead monstrosities constantly terrorizing the realm. Always do they seek to extinguish life and undo the beauty of Istaria.


Thankfully, I found shelter and comfort with those I met on my journey, and made Bristugo in less than 2 days. Eager for audience, I immediately took the port to the queen’s compound, and requested an urgent meeting. The queen listened intently to my story, and expressed her sympathies for my terrible losses. Muttering aloud to herself, she talked about needing assistance from the other realms. Suddenly, she turned again to me and asked me if I would be willing to become an envoy to the realm of order, become a voice to carry her desires for cooperation to defeat our common foe. With the last few days’ events still fresh in my mind, I made the impulsive decision to accept the queen’s offer. There was no more home or family for me in Blight, and whatever small thing I could do to help defeat the WA had become my life. The voices in my head chimed together in agreement.

And so, the queen outfitted me as best she could, considering I would be starting from scratch in my new home. The queen provided me with letters of recommendation and a list of names – people of order already friends with those of Blight. They have made my transition to my new life both easy and welcome. I look forward to my continuing service to both my homes, and to our eventual victory over the dreadful foe threatening us.

mourningwood's story

Posted by velveeta Thursday June 10 2010 at 8:05PM
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(after years of playing just one alt, i figured i would see what all this draggy stuff is all about.  here is the story of my dear mw - i hope you enjoy it!)

I remember being cold. That's the clearest memory. There were voices and sounds I now recognize as battle noises, and I remember being shaken so hard I bruised a wing against the side of my egg, but the clearest memory is of being warm, then suddenly – I am cold, so cold.

When I was warm, my mother would sing to me lullabyes of the glory of our race. I nestled in my shell, comforted by the melody of greatness, the harmony of hopes to be gifted, like the wonderous ancestors who fought and fought and did not fall.

My mother sang to me her dreams that I might be gifted – long are the lives of dragons, but without the gift, even we must pass. Our family had been without gifted in our line for many generations. My parents were old – though bonded for centuries, my mother and father had never before produced an egg. I was their last hope for offspring, much less a gifted one.
I found great pleasure in the warmth and grace of my mother, and although I was past time to enter the world, I remained in my egg. How could the wide world be as sweet as life in my tiny space? My father would bring her food so she did not have to hunt. Tenderly, he would drop his offerings in front of her, asking her in a voice booming with love if it was sufficient. Even thru my shell, I could feel the flush of heat my mother always experienced at the sound of his voice.

Thus I spent my babyhood, cocooned in love and nourished with tender care.
Until they came. They brought the cold with them, of course. Waves and waves of chill covered my shell after the sudden loss of my mother's warmth. I heard her scream in rage and fear, yelling out battle words I had never imagined my gentle mother would even know. I did not know what those words meant at that time.

Long after the last horrible scream had faded, I still waited for my mother's warmth to return. How many days passed, I do not know. But I had long since consumed the egg's foodstores and the initial cold had faded to a dull but unrelieved chill. The bruise on my wing had stopped hurting. Cautiously, I scratched my soft claws against the greenish grey shell. The sound was one I had not heard before and it startled me. I waited for an answer, any answer – but none came. I tapped louder. Again, no answer from the other side of my sanctuary.

Afraid to leave but scared to stay, I pushed my body against the shell. I was large and there was no more room to move, but I kept imagining myself expanding and expanding, using all my strength and will to break my once haven, now prison. Just as I was at my strength's end, I heard a sharp snap, and one wing burst out, scraping my delicate membranes against the thorny edge. Once the hole was made, it was a simple matter to break enough of the egg to tumble out.

But I immediately wished I had stayed in the egg. My mother greeted me at my emergence, but not the way either of us had wished.

She had fallen protecting me. My first sight was the remains of her great back and tail. Her tail had curled around the egg, forming a wall to barricade the vicious attackers. Enough of her flesh remained to show the numerous cuts and burns that scored her. Even the bones of her back showed the depth and breadth of the assault she had endured.
Circling the death of love, what I saw would have caused me to be ill, if I had food in me. No tissues were left to hold the bones of my mother together. It was as if some great hand had scooped up all her flesh, leaving a perfectly clean skeleton.
Of my father, I saw no sign. To this day, I believe he fell defending my mother and me – perhaps he saw the attackers coming and met them in his hunting ground.
My grief and despair overcame me and I could only express it by laying down next to my mother's body and nudging her, trying to get her to sing to me. Yes, rationally, I knew she would never voice to me again – but a child knows only that mother is the name for god………

This was how the saris and sslik found me. I could hardly move when I heard the sounds echoing thru the caves my parents had called home. I lifted my head as the sounds came closer, and I hoped it was whoever had killed my parents returning to finish their work.
I watched as the smallish saris female, clad in green armour and carrying a large warhammer and shield motioned to the tall sslik in brownish armour to circle around the large skeleton. They did not yet see me, or rather, they thought I was merely part of the remains.
"We are too late," I heard the saris call out, as if that was not obvious.
"If only we had sighted that blight anchor a week earlier. Maybe we would have been able to help fight off the Withered Aegis." replied the sslik, using his large maul to poke my mother's hind leg.
Even in my weakened state, I could not let this insult to my mother go unanswered. I scrambled to pull my legs up underneath me and struggled to my feet. It took me so long that the pair had plenty of time to prepare for battle.
Of course, as soon as I got to my feet, weakness overtook me and I pitched forward, bashing my snout against the cave floor.
"O Snake! The poor thing can hardly move! It must be starving!" the green lady exclaimed.
"Come on, let's go bag a couple deer and hurry back!"

I must have fallen asleep, because I remember dreaming of my mother. I heard her voice singing to me once again, only it was different and the song was about a naughty saris and her wild adventures. But I was warm again, and there was a smell in the air that made my tight, empty stomach heave and grumble. Sluggishly, I opened my eyes to see two large animals, unmoving as my mother, leaking red fluid all over the cave floor. From them was emanating the tantalizing odor. There was another smell, this one coming from the large crackling flames the pair had set near the entrance of the cave. There, a smaller animal was being slowly rotated and turning brown.

The green lady came into view from the cave mouth. Slowly, she came up to me, holding out her hands in front of her to show she did not have the hammer in hand.

"Hello. My name is Velveeta. Can you talk?"
I could barely summon the strength to move my head.
"Okay, no problem! Can you feed yourself? Probably not, huh? Times like this, I wish I carried a sword!! No matter, it will probably be easier on you to be fed pieces anyway."
The green lady called to the sslik and introduced him as Snake. Together, they began to cut large pieces off the dead animals, which they called deer, stacking them up in a pile.

Once there was enough food, the green lady approached me and explained that she was going to feed me, and asked me not to bite her. For some reason, the pair seemed to find this remark funny, but I was too busy gobbling down meat to try to understand what about it was so.
After feeding me, they declared their own meal ready and began to carve meat off the animal they called a sheep. The smell made my stomach rumble again, so the pair offered the rest of it to me. My first meal must have given me my strength back, as I quickly gained my feet and needed no help to snap up what was left in two bites.

The green lady explained that the pair would spend the night in the cave with me, and that I was welcome to leave in the morning with them. I wished I could speak then, to tell her my story and ask what I should do – but I could only gaze at them, trying to project my thoughts to them by sheer will.

Soon enough, the morning came and the pair roused themselves. They had saved a few scraps of meat for their breakfast and quickly, the green lady announced it was time to go.
"So, are you ready to go? We will make sure to mark this cave and report to the council. We should take you to them as well – they will know what to do about you!" Velveeta told me.

As we left the only home I knew, I stopped only to take one of my mother's claws, caked black with the residue of what Snake and Velveeta called the Withered Aegis. Snake fashioned it into a pendant using a leather strap to fix it on my neck. We stepped out into the light of day, the first I had ever seen.

"Well, hatchling, you need a name! Do you have one? No? Your parents picked a lovely spot to make their home – this patch of forest is known as the Mourning Wood. It sounds somehow appropriate, doesn't it? What do you think? Have no fear, Mourn – we will have plenty of time to teach you some basic words while getting to Dralk and you can tell us yourself what you prefer!"


Eventually, the pair did teach me to talk and did take me to Dralk – and from there, into the wide world. After many more adventures, the green lady became the Cheese Queen of Blight and Snake, her devoted consort and advisor. I chose to become Velveeta's ward, accepting her protection and assistance when Steward Pratt refused to reward me with my gifted emblem after I had completed the trials. Like gifted, I cannot die – but I am not recognized as gifted. Velveeta and Snake continue to fight to get me the recognition they think I am due, but I am content, knowing that I have become the fulfillment of my parents' hopes and the guardian of their dreams.

the beginnings of a queen

Posted by velveeta Thursday June 3 2010 at 3:00AM
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horizons has 3 shards or servers to play on.  there is my home shard, blight, which is the test server.  then there are the 2 live shards, chaos and order.  order is the rp shard, and until recently, i haven't played on it, as i find it hard to constantly be in character - i have too much fun gossipping about non-game stuff.  but the peeps on order have always developed such wonderful stories about their characters, that i got jealous and decided to write the stories of my blight characters.  so, for your (hopefully) amusement and enjoyment, i present

vel's story

The sky was like the dander splashed coat of a freshly brushed black cat. The moon was large and the stars cast shadows as the grizzled old sslik took his nightly constitutional. After so many years as a warrior and a healer, battling the withered aegis who always threatened to overrun the land he holds so dear, he didn't even have a mate or children to show for his heroism. True, his tribe welcomed him as the elder and as the protective benefactor his deeds had prepared him to be – but at the end of his constitutional, his abode would be as empty as his heart.
In the midst of his musing, some sense of danger, some leftover intuition caused him to raise his head and listen closer to the sounds of the night. That howling – no wolves came this far into the jungle! And no spider made that harsh barking sound – that was the cry of the undead minions that the WA used as shock troops!
The old sslik broke into a run, heading for the sounds. As he draws closer, he hears the frightened purring prayers of a saris. Although it had been many years, the old warrior well remembered his feline friends, and realized that the female prayers were for protection – not for herself, but for the small bundle the sslik was in time to see the very young saris stash quickly into a hollow in a tree as high as she could reach. The young female had only enough time to place the bundle relatively securely before turning to the horde of skeletal dog-like creatures that surrounded her.
The sslik tried to put on more speed while hastily running thru some spells he could use that would not harm the saris, but arrived in time to see the young female pulled under the swarming pack. A rain of bright blood fell on the sslik as he waded in with sword and spell – but the old fighter knew is was more a sign of ending than of rescue.
After what seemed like hours, but was probably only 15 or 20 minutes, most of the skeletal wolves were dead, once again. However, the sslik was worried about the safety of his village – at least 2 of the pack had escaped and the WA would know about this new inhabited area within days.
Turning to the ruin that was left of the young saris, the sslik instantly recognized his healing skill would be pointless. It was impossible to even know the species of the battle wrack seeping into the jungle floor. What fur was left unshredded was so bloodstained, the color was all the shade of drying blood in the dark. The old sslik could not even recognize enough to tell if he knew the child from one of the saris villages a day's run away. Whatever weapon the female had used was gone, and the only thing miraculously untouched was the gold and lapis lazuli headpiece. The old sslik leaned in to claim it as the birthright of her kin, and was startled by the starlight gleaming off two emeralds. Somehow, small shreds of life still clung to the almost dead female.
"Little Velveeta…..so like her father…..only one….could save…..my babies……." The old fighter looked up to the bundle in the tree. As he did so, he heard a long drawn purr and felt the sudden relaxation and lightening of a body that has lost the will that drives it.
Muttering a prayer to Merrasat to keep the young female under her care in the afterlife and to save her the fate of becoming WA, the old sslik gently removed the headpiece and reached up into the tree to check the bundle. Opening the blood and sweat stained blanket wrapping the squirming form, he almost dropped it as 2 tiny claws whipped out and latched onto his hand, all ferocious and ineffective. He recovered and continued, until he revealed a black striped white coated face, everything small, small, small – his years with saris told him this kitten was the runt of the litter. But something told him she would be stocky as well, and strong. Small and compact, he could almost carry her in one hand. He placed the headpiece carefully into the blanket and headed back to his village, to warn them that the WA would soon be here.
And the old fighter proved to be correct. The day after the village learned that 4 saris villages had been slaughtered to the youngest kitten, a contingent of WA came to test the strength of the sslik. Under the old sslik's guidance, the villagers won the day, but an infant sslik was left orphaned when his parent died defending. The old sslik took in the child, and raised both the saris and the orphan as brother and sister.
Both children seemed to take to the warrior lifestyle, and the old sslik taught them both what they would learn. Velveeta, the saris female, was much like her people – she enjoyed hunting and playing in equal measure, and would suffer nothing less than the highest luxurious quality in goods. She was lazy and sensual, but loyal and loving and when needed, she would work hard without complaint. Her brother, Snake Eyes, was strong and capable, willing to be taught and to learn and to be social. He enjoyed making things, and talking to the beings that found their way to the isolated village. People often preferred the sslik to the saris, as Velveeta was egotistical and vain when Snake was grateful and accommodating.
The old sslik, being Gifted, realized that, after many years and much too soon, the time had come to set the foundlings on the path. Many times over the years, the children had been tested and the old fighter was sure they were Gifted as well, but only the true test would prove it. Having always been honest with the orphans, he was so now – he told them it was time to go out into the world. One last journey would they take together.
The journey was uneventful and within a few days, the sslik led the children a large portal.
"Today, my beloved children, you must make a life for yourself. Step thru this port and you will embark on a new way to be. Seek out my old friend, Stewart Pratt on New Trismus. He will give you tests to perform. Complete them well, as I know you will. One day, when you are old and tired like me, you can come back and we will once again share food. You can tell me the tales of your life and I will be even more proud of you! Try to stay together, somehow, and always remember you are kith and kin!" The old embraced the younglings in turn and kissed their heads, bestowing his blessing and hoping it would help.
Velveeta rubbed her cheek against him in that purring way he knew he would miss, her flashing emerald eyes smiling as she adjusted her mother's headpiece. She strode confidently and happily to the port, turning to wait for her brother as Snake warrior clasped his foster parent's arm. Silently promising to keep an eye on his clueless sibling, the young sslik turned from the wet eyes of his foster parent and took his sister's hand. With one last look at the being that was, in some very important ways, their god, the two stepped thru the port and into Blight history.

 

(technically, sslik have no gender.  i always imagine them to be like the drac of 'enemy mine', giving birth when it happens.  however, they do usually give an indication of which gender they might be, so my bro is very male like when he plays.... lol)