Jump to content
Eternal Lands Official Forums


  • Content count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

About Ealeran

  • Rank
  1. Glory and Honour(Application Story)

    This really isn't clear that it's his voice. Of course we learn that it's his voice and it's because he was wounded but you need to make it clear from the start what you're talking about. Thankee very much, yes that sentence reads very weird. Just the way it came out.
  2. Glory and Honour(Application Story)

    yeah I see what you mean, I've seen it used both ways and this way seemed to fit within the confines of the story better, thanks for the reply
  3. Glory and Honour(Application Story)

    First of all, thank you very, very much for your very thorough editing Yeah, you're right about it all, although when I'm talking about the people being trampled, I'm leaving the were out stylistically, not correct English, but the flow of the story goes much more smoothly and I think that adding the "were"s would subtract from the panic in the writing, kind of like in Dracula when Harker keeps writing his journal after he sees the Count CLIMBING THE WALLS, seems very weird when that happens and it feels the same to me here. EDIT: actually, I don't see the typo in onwards and outwards, that's the correct spelling. Are you talking about the ambiguously contradicting nature of their use together? to Enly: yes, your observations are very much valid also, to myself, the dialogue seems normal but that is probably because I wrote it. It's also some of the books I've read recently creeping into my stories, many lack the names completely, you're just expected to know by the colloquialisms and manner who's speaking. I'll fix that for my next story though, rest assured Thanks to everyone who's read this
  4. Appearances

    Might just be me, but this seems very manly. A roar just has angry connotations for me, nice story though and Acelon is right, the NPCs are just that: non-player characters. Treat these stories as you would any other, just set in the Eternal Lands and in conjugation (best I could transcribe:P) with the rest of the lore
  5. Thankee, you are even more awesome, do you have to register them all by a date or are you just being an absolute leg end?
  6. wow, you are absolute awesomesauce would you not keep some for yourself though or do they run out after a set time
  7. Glory and Honour(Application Story)

    Thanks very much, didn't catch the "whole" bit on my read through. Would you mind showing me where these other errors are, can't spot them. Thanks
  8. Crosslinks for the ency

    CODE <link ref="LINKTO" title="NAME"/> *Creates a link to page name LINKTO, printing NAME as the link name. The functionality is already in there apparently. It would really help, it's helped other games with encyclopedias immeasurably
  9. Story & Quest Writers Agreement

    I, Ealeran, have read, understand, and agree to follow the above terms of Eternal Lands Story and Quest Writers Agreement.
  10. Glory and Honour Dotris carefully picked his way through the boggy ground of Morcraven Marsh. Following in his wake, Garold and Ildert held the heavy packs just above the waterline in shaking arms. “Can we rest now, Dotris? my arms feel like poles.” That was Garold, his slight build struggled to keep up with the rest of the party's bulk. “No time lad, the camp is still a good hour's march and the sun is setting. We don't want to be out in the Marsh at night now do we?” “Dotris is right, Garold, no telling what comes out then. I hear it's cannibals who love to eat young boys...” “Stop it, Ildert!” “They say they crawl out of their trees and grab your ankles...” “Stop, Ildert, please” “They grab your ankles and drag you down with them. The only thing found is your sword.” “That's enough, Ildert, the lad is scared enough as it is. No need to go frightening him with your ghost stories. Let's keep moving.” The warm orange glow from the fire of the camp illuminated the forest around it. The dancing shadows cast as the flames waxed and waned created the illusion of the monsters in the undergrowth out for the night. Dotris hit groundfall first, he turned, grasped Garold's hand and heaved him up. “Dotris my friend, Kellrad sent word ahead of you. It's been a long time.” Tenarot came striding over from the fire, his typical iron breastplate, gorget and gauntlets abandoned in favour of plain, cotton clothes. “Greetings, Tenarot. I hear of your exploits more and more often each day it seems. You've done well.” “Aye, it's a long way from chasing brownies around Idaloran. I've tried hard enough though, it's near enough my right” Tenarot laughed, a small tinny sound changed from the sonorous boom of the young Tenarot. “I'm guessing you were wounded?” “What, my voice? I was hit by a bandit's bolt last Zartia, that's the reason for the lack of tales these last few months; I've been bed-ridden.” “Wow, a bandit's bolt could stop the great Tenarot, say it ain't so.” “Agh, every dog has his day. His was very short mind, I got the knave's head put on a pike. That'll teach him not to attack his superiors. But, that's all in the past now, we're here to make ourselves rich, rich and richer again!” “If you say so, I'm just here because Layan has a bit of a soft spot for you and doesn't want you killed.” “Oooh, well seems Tarsengard calls me home. I'm powerless to resist.” The sun rose the next morning through the canopy, casting it's glowing touch over the smouldering embers of the campfires. Dotris woke to find the blur of activity for the raid had begun. Around him, men had began to cut down the trees heading towards Fort Halligan and its road to the trade routes. The trees cut down were being hauled over to a saw pit where they were cut into planks for the road. Dotris dressed, walked out of his hut and wandered through the camp. “Dotris, you've awoken. I tell you, you sleep like the dead.” Tenarot shouted to him from across the clearing. “Come, I'll show you our target.” Dotris let himself be led through the bustle of activity to a small opening in the ground. “This is it?” “'This is it?' This cave has more riches than I've seen in my life. There's enough gold and jewels down there for ten men to live like kings for ten lifetimes.” “Down there?” Tenarot sighed, “We'll be going down there later today. We need to widen this fissure, no use for treasure if you can't get it out to spend it.” That afternoon, Dotris climbed down the hole after the first band of workmen. The workmen were in good spirits and lightly carried their picks and supporting planks. Dotris set the two torches he had been given around the workmen. The darkness stalked the edge of the illumination like a predator moving in for the kill. He spent the rest of the day watching as the men slowly widened the entranceway and dug a wide ramp up to it. When night fell, the camp all gathered at Tenarot's fire. “My friends, we're in. Tomorrow, we shall descend into the depths and return rich men. Each and every one of us will live out the rest of our days in luxury. “Tomorrow, this will happen. Tomorrow our lives will change. No more will we scrabble about in the dirt, killing for our bread. We will own the mills, we will own the bakeries. We will own the farms. I bid you good night, and good luck.” The next morning began as any other. Dotris rose, dressed and woke Garold and Ildert. Together the three of them had breakfast in silence. The fog that had descended on the camp in the middle of the night denied vision past two lengths. Tenarot strolled around the camp, his customary armour back on, stopping in front of each man he passed and exchanging a few words with each one. His hand stayed on his sword as he walked, the only outward sign of his excitement. When the time came, each man rose and returned to his hut to collect his weapons and armour. The fog had begun to lift when Dotris returned to the hole. The men trickled to the hole, each one quiet, each one burdened by a darkness of unknown origin. When everyone had assembled, Tenarot appeared. His helm in his arms, he said: “Good luck.” The party filed down the ramp one at a time, only the token force assigned to keep the pests from the camp stayed on the surface. Garold, to Dotris' right, held a torch above his head. The light reflected off the burnished iron of his helm, the glare catching Dotris' eye every few minutes as Garold's bobbing head shined it towards him. The party descended further and further into the depths. Hours passed before they found their first cache. The glittering rubies and mountains of gold rose their hearts. “Rocheg, gather some men and start hauling this back.” Tenarot's voice was dim in the cavernous room they found themselves in. Rocheg, the sole orchan in the party, picked five of the group who laid their packs on the ground and started loading them with the treasure. Tenarot beckoned the rest of them on. The group moved onwards again. The men started to talk amongst themselves, their ideas of future life voiced and jokes began to flutter amongst them. Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp Dotris thought he heard something. “Quiet, everyone. Quiet” “What is it Dotris?” “Shhh, something's out there.” Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp Glances passed between the men. There shouldn't be anything down here. Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, Tramp The noise was getting louder. Whatever it was was getting closer. “Everyone, start to move back towards the treasure room.” TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP “Quickly” Dotris heard the note of panic in his friend's voice. The panic Tenarot had never had in battle. TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP “There's something in the tunnel.” The adventurer's voice reverberated around the atrium they found themselves in until no one could be sure where it came from. They didn't have to wait long to find out. Out of the darkness, bones came. Bones that walked, bones that kill. Someone screamed. TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP “QUICKLY” Tenarot's voice rang out over the din of the bones. He turned and began to run back to the cavern, dragging people, waking them from their reverie. The skeletons were close now. Close enough to kill. The first men went down. And rose back up. Dotris followed Tenarot as fast as he could. As he moved through the tunnels, following the barely visible figures of Tenarot and the first runners, he could hear Garold's heavy breathing behind him and the horrible crunch of metal through meat. Dotris reached the reassuring glow of the treasure room, screaming as he ran past the men still packing bags full of gold and jewels. Telling them to run. The men kept running, those who fell were trampled. Those unlucky enough to survive trampling unable to move, knowing what was coming, hearing the clack as the skeletal guardians drew closer and closer. The lucky ones were able to end their lives on their own terms. Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, Tramp The tramp of the undead's march omnipresent, spurring the men onwards and outwards. The light shined ahead of them. Silhouettes against the sweet, sweet sky. Silhouettes that promised death. TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP Ildert was there, or at least, what was left of him. His face cut open into a horrid mockery of a grin, bone and gristle extruding from a gaping hole in his chest. Garold fell to his knees. His lips uttering a prayer to Aluwen, a prayer never to be answered. Tenarot, ahead of Dotris, let loose his battle cry one last time, the cry from their youth “Glory and Honour”