[EVENT] Halloween on Ravendawn

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Community Manager
Staff member
Community Manager
Halloween Event 🎃

Trick or treat?!

Around here, we prefer tricks! That’s why we have decided to liven things up a bit and bring a Halloween event to this wonderful community 一 with unique prizes and opportunities! We're sure you have some really scary horror stories to tell us, but how about using some of your creativity to create stories & fics like these involving the Ravendawn universe?

How will it work?

If you are interested in participating, you will need to create a horror or suspense story related to the world of Ravendawn. You can and should use the creatures, environments, NPCs and lores already known as a source of inspiration. Once it's ready (read the rules first), post it here in this thread with the due title 一 choose a nice one, it will be part of the evaluation as well!

On October 29th, the thread will be locked and the team will evaluate all the stories in order to choose the 3 most scary and interesting ones. We are preparing a special way to announce the authors of the 3 best stories, who will win the following prizes:


🏅1st Place - 1 Gold Supporter Pack + Discord Role + 1 Exclusive Halloween Pumpkin Plushie
🥈2nd Place - 1 Gold Supporter Pack + 1 Dark Ritualist Moa Armor
🥉3rd Place - 1 Gold Supporter Pack

The top 3 stories will also be passed on to the Writers, who will evaluate the possibility of implementing one of them into the official Ravendawn universe. How cool would it be to help create a story for the game?! :banditread:


01. You must follow and respect the Forum rules (if you disrespect any of the rules, your comment will be deleted and you will be disqualified);

02. You can post only 1 story, and it must be of your own authorship. You may edit the comment before the deadline to modify or improve your ideas, if you wish;

03. The story must have more than 400 and less than 1,000 words;

04. The story must be posted in English to validate your participation, but you may also post a PT or PL version if you wish;

05. In case of the same or very similar stories, we will consider the one that was posted first;

06. If you win the event but already have a key, you may donate it to a friend.

We believe in your creativity. Good luck and see you all on Halloween! ❤️

🇧🇷 Se você quiser ler a versão em PT-BR, expanda o texto aqui:

Evento de Halloween 🎃

Doces ou travessuras?

Por aqui, preferimos travessuras! Por isso, resolvemos animar um pouco as coisas e trazer um evento de Halloween para essa comunidade linda com prêmios e oportunidades únicas! Temos certeza de que vocês possuem histórias de terror realmente assustadoras para nos contar, mas que tal utilizar um pouco dessa criatividade para criar histórias como essas envolvendo o universo de Ravendawn?

Como participar?

Se você tiver interesse em participar, precisará criar uma história de terror ou suspense relacionada ao mundo de Ravendawn, podendo e devendo utilizar-se das criaturas, ambientes, NPCs e lores já divulgadas como fonte inspiração. Assim que estiver pronta, poste a sua história aqui nos comentários desta thread com devido o título - escolha um título legal, ele será parte da avaliação também.

No dia 29 de Outubro, a thread será trancada e a equipe irá avaliar todas as histórias com o objetivo de escolher as 03 mais assustadoras e interessantes. Estamos preparando uma maneira especial de anunciar os autores dos 03 melhores contos, que irão ganhar os seguintes prêmios:


🏅1 Lugar - 1 Gold Supporter Pack + Cargo no Discord + 1 Abóbora de Halloween Plushie
🥈2 Lugar - 1 Gold Supporter Pack + 1 Dark Ritualist Moa Armor
🥉3 Lugar - 1 Gold Supporter Pack

As 03 melhores histórias também serão repassadas ao time de escritores, que irão avaliar a possibilidade de implementação de alguma delas ao universo oficial de Ravendawn. Quão legal seria poder fazer parte da criação de uma história para o jogo?


Siga e respeite as regras do Forum (se você desrespeitar qualquer uma das regras, seu comentário será deletado e você será desclassificado);

02. Você pode postar apenas 1 história, e ela precisa ser de sua autoria. Você pode editar o comentário antes da data final para modificar ou melhorar suas ideias, se assim desejar;

03. A sua história deve conter mais de 400 e menos de 1.000 palavras;

04. A história deve ser postada em inglês para que todos possam entender, mas você também poderá postar uma versão em PT ou PL, se desejar;

05. Em caso de histórias iguais ou muito parecidas, iremos considerar aquela que foi postada primeiro;

06. Se você ganhar o evento e já tiver uma key de acesso, poderá doar para um amigo.

Acreditamos na criatividade de vocês. Boa sorte e nos vemos no Halloween ♥️
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Once a sage told me that Ravendawn is world repleted of a lot of mysteries, legends and magic monsters, where a rusted sword can be the legendary excalibur and a old man can be the most powerful mage of all the times. Today our tale begins in somewhere near to the Toad Forest, a place where exist a lot of types os toad, in that place have a abandoned house like an laboratory of an alchemist. Near the forest, we start with a Alchemist Master who study the biology components, poisons of toads and the uses in the medicine. The alchemist called Mendel has spend a loot of his life searching for answers, he loves genetics, and plants. Mendel liked a lot of search for new species, he always like to enter in the forest but In one of his expeditions to the toads forest he get lost, he spend some days trying to leave the forest but he can't. After some time he was able to find some type of house in the middle of the flores where neither the toads have the courage to go, to him is better to go there because alone he can't fight with a loot of toads. In the beginning he was happy and explore the house, he notice that was a abandoned laboratory, he sees a loot of blood and poison in the floor, but the blood is dry and he think that something happen there in the past. He continue trying to search for food, but he found a chest, and in that chest he saw a loot of gold, gems and some kind of good equipment. He try to get everything and run from that place, he somehow sense fear in the moment that he touched in the valuable stuffs, that place in the middle of nowhere, where no one could founded, with that treasure in his hands, he new that he have to get out of there. He was scary, that place has some mystical aura, the aura of death, when he take all the stuffs that he wanted he make his way to the door but, there, in the front of the door he notice that a little zombie Toad was observing his actions, he was shocked with the appearence of the toad but when he try to open the door and run the zombie toad transform himself in a bigger monster and capture Mendel. Mendel try to kill the creature attacking the heart and all the organs with magic but the creature is stronger, faster, and have more magic than he. At that day Mendel takes his last breath. The truth is Mendel is already dead by the moment he enter in the house, once that toad filled the smell of Mendel he was dead by the Toad who is in the truth a huge mutated Zombie Toad Executioner who was created by a witch who study voodoo and alchemy in the middle of that forest, the witch have founded her end by the hand of the toad and every live thing who'll enter in that laboratory will have the same end of all those people. And its simple, because What is dead cannot be dead. The creature will always stay there, waiting for another prey.


BlackRose Leader
A story about a haunted forest. "Lament of the Trees"

The village of Margrove was famous for its high-class wood, the best carpenters and woodcutters lived in this village. There was also an orphanage in which there were children deprived of their parents by bandits "Salt Dusk".

One afternoon, the children and the babysitter decided to play hide and seek in the Rohna forest near the village. Each child chose a tree and climb on it, when they reached the top, they noticed that the tree inside was empty. Curious bent over him, but a certain force throws them off balance, causing them to fall inside the tree. The children cried out for help, but unknown magic blocked the sounds emanating from inside the tree.

The Babysitter unable to find the children, decided to ask everyone in the village for help in the search. They lasted 3 days and 3 nights, but in vain. On the fourth day, the lumberjacks decided to return to their work. They went to the forest to obtain high-quality wood, began chopping trees, cutting up orphans, who were screaming and crying in pain. Blood began to seep through the bark of the trees and coat the ax blades with it. Terrified lumberjacks decided to cut them further, after seeing the dismembered bodies of children inside the trees, they decided to burn them together in the trunks where they had hidden in order to avoid panic and loss of income from logging.

Suddenly they felt a cold gust of wind. The treetops began blocking the sun's rays, leading to darkness. Disturbed by the loss of visibility and the drop in temperature, the woodcutters approached the burning stumps to warm themselves up and receive a light source. They noticed what looked like a distorted face of a small child on the trunks. Suddenly a fire appeared inside the stumps, it was brighter and warmer than the one covering them. Suddenly the lumberjacks heard from there the crying and lamentation of the children they had killed. Terrified woodcutters started to flee the forest, but the trees began to move and confuse the woodcutters, preventing them from escaping the forest. The woodcutters were murdered and dismembered one by one by the souls of children enchanted in the trunks with their knotty roots.

Since then, access to the forest has been banned. Every daredevil who wanted to get rich on high-quality wood had to fight with the haunted trunk.
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Professor e Jornalista
The phantom seller

Many years ago, when I was still young and cutting down trees in Rohna Woods, my father told me this story. On a Blood Moon, when the whispers of the beyond could be clearly heard and the anguished spirits wandered in despair, no one dared to leave the house.

Everywhere, sellers worried about the losses. “What will become of the economy?!”, they lamented with sobs. In a short time, scarcity made items prices soar. Ravendawn markets were on the verge of collapse.

It was then that an ambitious and courageous trader decided to take his chance. “Crises are an opportunity,” he tell. He said goodbye to his family and took a valuable cargo from Seafare to Margrove in his wagon.

On the way, the brave merchant was surprised by an old dwarf with a white beard. Despite the stranger's fright and sinister features, the man listened to what he had to say.

"Are you going to Margrove?" asked the old dwarf in a deep voice.

"Yes," replied the merchant, somewhat stunned by the situation. "Why?"

“I have extremely valuable merchandise with me that needs to be transported to North Glademire, but I can't find a single seller to do this job for me,” explained the little one. Then, stroking his vast white beard, he continued, "I offer a great reward for service."

The merchant was in a hurry and didn't want to venture any further than necessary, however, the words great reward left him uneasy: "Great reward, you said?"

“Oh yes!” said the old man, taking his bag. “I bring here a very rare artifact that needs to be taken urgently to the appropriate place”, he continued, removing a round object and placing it in view.

“What is this?” asked the curious seller.

It's an extremely valuable moa's egg,” clarified the dwarf. “I've been taking care of him for a long time and it's almost time to hatch him. You must give it to the Lady in White near the North Glademire Cemetery,” he said.

Reluctantly, the merchant was about to deny the dwarf's request when, suddenly, the old man said:

“I offer 100,000 silver coins”.

“100,000 silver coins?!”

“100,000 silver coins”.

“100,000 silver coins for me to deliver a moa egg to a lady in white in the middle of a road?!”

"That's right!"

As absurd as it was, this offer was irrefutable. Ambition overcame fear. “This is my opportunity,” he repeated to himself. "That's right. I accept,” said the merchant.

Then, he reached out and took the moa egg along with a chest full of silver. As soon as he touched the object, the seller felt a strange sensation, as if a strange energy was pulsing inside. A cold shiver ran down his spine, and when he looked to the side for the dwarf, he realized that he was already gone.

Even full of fear, the man placed the egg carefully beside him and continued on his journey.

As he drove his cart, he had the distinct feeling that he heard voices, barely audible whispers that said, “Come. I'm waiting for you". The merchant couldn't be sure if it was the wind or just his imagination.

"Fearful! You are a rich man now!” he exclaimed.

He went on, passing Ravencrest and taking the trail towards Rohna Woods. While traveling, he asked himself: “Is there really going to be a lady waiting for this order on this trail?”. Everything was so deserted. "People are avoiding leaving the house because of this damn Blood Moon!" “If, when I pass, she's not there, I'm going to Margrove. I have already received the payment. I don't even want to know,” he cheared up, wondering what he would do with the mountain of money he had earned.

It was midnight when the traveler approached the cemetery in North Glademire. Her heart almost stopped when he saw a lady standing in the middle of the road. Her dress was white and weathered. The wind brought her hair to life, giving it a ghostly look. Faced with that spectral vision, the merchant was seized with limitless terror, as if his own soul was trying to escape the clutches of death.

It was too late. The unwary seller could no longer control his carriage. Driven by forces far beyond his comprehension he was taken straight to the Lady in White.

As soon as the wain stopped, the terrible woman turned her gaze to the newcomer. In the traveler's eyes, tears of regret and despair. Then the woman's phantom said in a voice from beyond: “Don't despair. Economy is more important than life. The crisis is an opportunity”.

Those words echoed in the emptiness of the seller's body, as your soul was violently ripped off. Free of his mortal flesh, his spirit was still there, in front the ghost of the Lady in White.

The woman went to the wagon and took the strange moa egg that had been brought to her. Suddenly, it shell started to open, and a dark, fetid smoke covered the air. And just as the smoke cleared, there was a sinister carriage pulled by a Haunted Moa.

Pointing to the newly created wain, the terrible woman sentenced: “Death can not be a hindrance to business. From now on, you will be my seller”.

Since then, the Phantom Seller has roamed all over Ravendawn trading items from another world. Many say they have heard their carriage haunting the roads at night. Legend has it that, on Blood Moon nights, he comes from beyond and offers his wares to mortals in exchange for silver, lots of silver!

A versão em PT-BR está no PDF em anexo, caso alguém tenha interesse.


  • O mercador fantasma PT.pdf
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Translate by Google Tradutor (sorry for bad english)

Ghosts of the Stormy Night

The world of Ravendawn is a world full of adventures, everyone knows that. But it is a common consensus in all taverns that there is no greater adventure than wandering through villages during stormy nights. This is because during storms, the stories say, rebellious spirits often appear and torment the souls of the most absent-minded (and drunk) adventurers.
On Sajecho Island there are many reports of armor roaming alone during stormy nights. On nights like this it is common (and in some places, mandatory) tavern owners to force their patrons to remove their helmets, hats and other accessories, to prove that there is a body behind the armor (or at least a head).
Several residents say that it's unlucky to go out on the streets during nights like this, while the more adventurous say that this is one more reason to fill your body with courage (and drink) to go out and go adventure, after all, it's not every night that it rains . Many adventurers are willing (in exchange for silver and drink) to protect taverns and villages from the spirits of the storm.
Some believe this is nothing but a story of drunkards and opportunists chasing easy silver. But according to Fritz's accounts, he's seen more than a dozen times, spirits wandering in the vicinity of Ravencrest pier. Some say it's just the bandit dog's adventures, others say it's the work of the rats that plague that region.
In Glademire, from North to South, it is a common consensus, wandering on a rainy night is liable to attack. And this has created several problems for unsuspecting and backward adventurers, who are just looking for a roof to spend the night and dry off.
Many say this legend started after the death of a young knight during a stormy night in Rohna Woods, the poor bastard was carrying a large amount of groceries to Ravencrest harbor, unfortunately (for him) was attacked by a gang of marauders, who took everything but his soul, which was wandering the world and in revenge, began to gather other poor lost souls.
Since then, he circulates through the various regions of Ravendawn, looking to fulfill his last mission, destroying everything and everyone who has some kind of weapon. Some say that just having a sword or staff isn't much of a reason to be attacked, but let's face it, it's a bit tricky to argue with wandering souls looking for revenge.

Versão PT-BR

Fantasmas da Noite Tempestuosa

O mundo de Ravendawn é um mundo cheio de aventuras, todos sabem disso. Mas é consenso comum em todas as tavernas, que não existe maior aventura do que perambular pelas vilas durante noites tempestuosas. Isto porque durante as tempestades, dizem as histórias, espíritos revoltos costumam aparecer e atormentar a alma dos aventureiros mais distraídos (e bêbados).

Na Ilha de Sajecho existem muitos relatos de armaduras que perambulam sozinhas durante noites de tempestade. Em noites assim é comum (e em alguns locais, obrigatório) donos de taverna obrigarem seus frequentadores a retirarem seus capacetes, chapéus e demais acessórios, para comprovar que existe um corpo por trás das armaduras (ou ao menos uma cabeça).

Vários moradores dizem que dá azar sair para as ruas durante noites assim, já os mais aventureiros dizem que isto é mais um motivo para encher o corpo de coragem (e bebida) para sair e ir se aventurar, afinal, não é toda noite que chove. Muitos aventureiros se dispõem (em troca de prata e bebida) a proteger tavernas e vilas dos espíritos da tempestade.

Alguns acreditam que isto não passa de história de bêbado e de oportunistas atrás de prata fácil. Mas segundo relatos de Fritz, ele já viu mais de uma dezena de vezes, espíritos perambulando nas proximidades do cais de Ravencrest. Alguns dizem ser apenas peripécias do cachorro Bandit, outros dizem que isso é obra dos ratos que assolam aquela região.

Em Glademire, de Norte a Sul, é consenso comum, está perambulando em noite de chuva é passível de ataques. E isto tem gerado vários problemas para aventureiros desavisados e atrasados, que só estão em busca de um telhado para passar a noite e se secar.

Muitos dizem que essa lenda começou após a morte de um jovem cavaleiro durante uma noite tempestuosa em Rohna Woods, o pobre coitado estava carregando uma grande quantidade de mantimentos para o porto de Ravencrest, infelizmente (para ele) foi atacado por um bando de saqueadores, que levaram tudo, menos sua alma, que ficou vagando pelo mundo e como vingança, começou a reunir outras pobres almas perdidas.

Desde então, ele circula pelas diversas regiões de Ravendawn, em busca de cumprir sua última missão, destruir tudo e todos que possuírem algum tipo de arma. Alguns dizem que só o fato de possuir uma espada ou cajado não é lá muito motivo para ser atacado, mas convenhamos que é um tanto complicado discutir com almas vagantes atrás de vingança.


New member

Once a sage told me that Ravendawn is world repleted of a lot of mysteries, legends and magic monsters, where a rusted sword can be the legendary excalibur and a old man can be the most powerful mage of all the times. Today our tale begins in somewhere near to the Toad Forest, a place where exist a lot of types os toad, in that place have a abandoned house like an laboratory of an alchemist. Near the forest, we start with a Alchemist Master who study the biology components, poisons of toads and the uses in the medicine. The alchemist called Mendel has spend a loot of his life searching for answers, he loves genetics, and plants. Mendel liked a lot of search for new species, he always like to enter in the forest but In one of his expeditions to the toads forest he get lost, he spend some days trying to leave the forest but he can't. After some time he was able to find some type of house in the middle of the flores where neither the toads have the courage to go, to him is better to go there because alone he can't fight with a loot of toads. In the beginning he was happy and explore the house, he notice that was a abandoned laboratory, he sees a loot of blood and poison in the floor, but the blood is dry and he think that something happen there in the past. He continue trying to search for food, but he found a chest, and in that chest he saw a loot of gold, gems and some kind of good equipment. He try to get everything and run from that place, he somehow sense fear in the moment that he touched in the valuable stuffs, that place in the middle of nowhere, where no one could founded, with that treasure in his hands, he new that he have to get out of there. He was scary, that place has some mystical aura, the aura of death, when he take all the stuffs that he wanted he make his way to the door but, there, in the front of the door he notice that a little zombie Toad was observing his actions, he was shocked with the appearence of the toad but when he try to open the door and run the zombie toad transform himself in a bigger monster and capture Mendel. Mendel try to kill the creature attacking the heart and all the organs with magic but the creature is stronger, faster, and have more magic than he. At that day Mendel takes his last breath. The truth is Mendel is already dead by the moment he enter in the house, once that toad filled the smell of Mendel he was dead by the Toad who is in the truth a huge mutated Zombie Toad Executioner who was created by a witch who study voodoo and alchemy in the middle of that forest, the witch have founded her end by the hand of the toad and every live thing who'll enter in that laboratory will have the same end of all those people. And its simple, because What is dead cannot be dead. The creature will always stay there, waiting for another prey.


Siren Hill Retaliation

A small village surrounded by mountains that always lived in peace and harmony, nothing unusual happened in the village, but they would hardly know that until that day something was to come.
It was almost dinnertime, the villagers were returning from their crops, carrying baskets full of harvested fruit and grain, the sun was already setting, and twilight was coming, the sky was still blue in a few minutes he entered a vast darkness and with it came the night with its mild temperature. In the houses, children were starting to light candles, and the smell of apple pie could be smelled yards away.
However, the fruity aroma of the air was invaded by an unusual stench, south of the village, coming from the forest of Siren Hill, small creatures were sighted, with green skin, pointed nose and bulging eyes, they were Goblins!
The population was in an uproar, the quiet villagers had never seen those freaks. Younger children, the disabled and pregnant women ran in despair with a feeling they had never witnessed in their lives, the fear of death, while all the other villagers fled, fearing that their lives were in danger, some men took their hammers, scythes, hoes, shovels and whatever other tools they could use and set off to defend themselves from the enemy's attack.
The goblins screeched some incomprehensible words as they were repulsed by the fierceness of those farmers. It was not long before they retreated, returning to the darkness of the forests.
The farmers soon cleaned their streets of pure green goo and the pestilential bodies that lay inert there and celebrated their victory with a great feast.
The following afternoon, what was the surprise, when again the repulsive beings left the forest on their way to the modest village. This time, outnumbered, the goblins screamed and gestured, the humans noticed the outrage, and, inflated by the glory of the day before, decided to eliminate all those creatures. Thus began another massacre
This time, when they retreated, the little beings were followed into the forest until they reached the lair. In the small goblin village there were makeshift wooden tents with cloth and skins serving as canvas, bone implements could be seen by those who arrived, but there was virtually no resistance against the crazed human power to protect their lands.
The farmers were killing, looting and setting fire throughout the village, until he reached the largest of the huts, where he was finding a small being with pale green skin, wearing earrings and necklaces, he was supposed to be the chief tribal chief.
The leader of the humans, realizing his glory, and enjoying it, gave the goblin final words, and he said: “We are very hungry, we only want fragrant food, we can pay”.
Drax was the name of this little leader, today his head is impaled on the entrance to the village of Siren Hill, which is recognized across the continent of Ravendawn as a village of brave warriors who defended their lands honorably and nobly.

Versão PT/BR

Retaliação de Siren Hill

Uma pequena vila rodeada por montanhas que sempre viveu em paz e em harmonia, nada de incomum acontecia na vila, mas eles mal saberiam que até naquele dia algo estava por vim.

Estava quase na hora do jantar, os moradores da vila voltavam de suas plantações, carregando cestos repletos de frutas e grãos que tinham sido colhidos, o sol já estava se pondo, e a chegada do entardecer era breve, o céu que ainda estava azul em poucos minutos havia entrado em uma vasta escuridão e com isso veio a noite com sua temperatura amena. Nas casas, as crianças começavam a acender alguns lampiões e velas e o cheiro de tortas de maçã podia ser sentido a metros de distância.

Porém, o aroma frutado do ar foi invadido por um fedor incomum, ao sul da vila, vindo da floresta de Siren Hill, foram avistadas pequenas criaturas, de pele verde, nariz pontudo e olhos esbugalhados, eram Goblins!

A população entrou em alvoroço, os pacatos moradores da vila nunca tinham visto aquelas aberrações. As crianças mais jovens, os incapacitados e as mulheres grávidas corriam em desespero com um sentimento que nunca tinha presenciado em suas vidas, o medo da morte, enquanto todos os demais moradores da vila fugiam temendo que suas vidas corria em perigo, alguns homens pegaram seus martelos, foices, enxadas, pás e quaisquer outras ferramentas que pudessem utilizar, e partiram para rechaçar o ataque inimigo.

Os goblins esganiçaram algumas palavras incompreensíveis, enquanto eram rechaçados pela braveza daqueles fazendeiros. Não tardou até que eles bateram em retirada, retornando para a escuridão das florestas.

Os fazendeiros logo limparam suas ruas daquela gosma verde e dos corpos pestilentos que ali jaziam inertes e comemoraram sua vitória com um banquete.

Na tarde seguinte, qual não foi a surpresa, quando novamente os seres repulsivos saíam da floresta a caminho da modesta vila. Desta vez, em menor número, os goblins gritavam e gesticulavam, os humanos notaram aquela afronta e, inflados pela glória do dia anterior, decidiram eliminar todas aquelas criaturas. Iniciaram assim mais um massacre.

Dessa vez, quando partiram em retirada, os pequenos seres foram seguidos floresta adentro, até chegarem em seu covil. Na pequena aldeia goblin havia barracas de madeira improvisadas com panos e couros servindo de lona, instrumentos de ossos podiam ser avistados por aqueles que chegavam, mas praticamente não havia resistência contra o poderio dos humanos ensandecidos por protegerem suas terras.

Os fazendeiros foram matando, saqueando e colocando fogo em toda a aldeia, até que chegaram na maior das cabanas, onde estava deitado um pequeno ser de pele verde clara, usando brincos e colares, ele deveria ser o chefe daquela tribo.

O líder dos humanos percebendo sua glória, e dela desfrutando, possibilitou ao goblin palavras finais, e ele disse: “Nós ter muita fome, só querer comida cheirosa, nós poder pagar”.

Drax era o nome desse pequeno líder, hoje sua cabeça está empalada na entrada da vila de Siren Hill, que é reconhecida em todo o continente de Ravendawn como uma vila de bravos guerreiros que defenderam suas terras de forma honrada e nobre.


Arcanista Supremo

O Traiçoeiro Mago de Ossos PT/BR/ CAPÍTULO 1

A imortalidade no continente de Ravendawn é algo muito discutido entre os magos , mas um exercício proibido pelo conselho , já que , são pesquisas e métodos extremamente perigosos e com efeitos colaterais exorbitantes e inimagináveis.
É sabido por poucos que o universo de ravendawn é composto por universos paralelos ou camadas , e que o fio que tece essa linha é extremamente frágil e uma simples fagulha pode desencadear uma catastrofe.

Essa história iniciou-se na Terceira era , dia 31 do ano XVI , com um mago chamado Ezanor. Ele era um dos magos mais brilhantes do continente de Ravendawn e mostrava grande talento nas artes místicas , mas sua busca pelo poder o levou a atrocidades , e em uma das linhas estudou o Archtype Witchcraft , e esse foi o começo para um disturbio de preceitos inimaginaveis . Para seus prazeres , recrutou um culto para realizar suas façanhas e nisto matou dezenas de pessoas , seu culto era conhecido por não ter escrúpulos , as masmorras em que residia o culto cheirava a morte e havia diversos corpos decepados , e sangue espalhado pelas paredes , era uma cena horripilante de presenciar , de acordo com os aventureiros e algumas pessoas que se encorajaram a caminhar pelo local.
Muitos procuravam a morte de Ezanor para dar um fim aos horrores causados por ele , e finalmente um dia conseguiram mata-lo , eram o que todos pensavam!
Os heróis foram reverenciados durante muito tempo , mas as especulações no continente de Ravendawn não paravam , diziam que Ezanor não havia morrido e sim alcançado sucesso em suas façanhas e ficado ainda mais poderoso e alcançado a imortalidade que tanto desejava , o tornando imbatível , mas seria verdade?
O medo atingiu novamente o continente de Ravendawn e muitos tremiam só de ouvir seu nome.
Certa vez , um conde de ravencrest recrutou um grupo de 20 aventureiros poderosos para iniciar uma excursão e investigar os boatos , e o que encontraram deixaram eles horrorizados , próximo a terra dos mortos havia um exército de skeletons e frente o exército um Lich , e este vestia as mesmas roupas do mago Ezanor.

- Lidia , um dos Paladinos do grupo perguntou , será possível?
- Orf , o mago respondeu , não há dúvidas , sua aura é a mesma!

E durante um breve pensamento e suspiro , o Lich se teleportou e decapitou metade dos aventureiros e disse:

Em voz sarcástica e uma risada maléfica , achou mesmo que um mago poderoso como eu seria derrotado facilmente? Vocês caíram na minha travessura , o que vocês deram um fim , foi meu clone! HAHAHAHAHHAHA!

Espalhem a notícia que o Mago de Ossos , Ezanor alcançou a imortalidade e que o continente de Ravendawn cairá sobre a morte.
Os aventureiros em um surto de susto , sairam correndo e em questão de dias cada canto do continente ficou sabendo que Ezanor se tornou imortal , e que usou uma de suas travessuras , um clone de seu Archtype Witchcraft para terminar seus trabalhos e alcançar seus desejos.

Diante disto um evento sem precedentes começou no continente de ravendawn , por onde o Lich passava a morte o acompanhava , e quanto mais cidadões de ravendawn pereciam , maior seu exercito ficava , além de ser imortal , começou usar outro tipo de mágia proibida , a necromancia , a magia que ressuscita os mortos , por onde passou as almas não descansaram , foram aprisionadas em ossos , e o apelido do mago ficou , e conhecido seu nome ecoou Ezanor '' o Mago de Ossos''.
Almas e mais almas , aprisionadas em ossos , gritando por clemencia e socorro , era o que se escutava quando se chegava a horda de skeleton , torturados pela eternidade e agora sem nenhuma afinidade , com a vida.
A morte , era o que se via , ossos e mais ossos pelas vilas , crianças , idosos a tropa não escolhia , era simplesmente uma melancolia e era assim que se resumia quando Ezanor , o mago de ossos escolhia , suas vitimas.

E você , será enganado por Ezanor '' O mago de ossos '' e conseguirá salvar o continente de Ravendawn de suas atrocidades ou será decapitado?

The Treacherous Bone Wizard EN/CHAPTER 1

Immortality on the continent of Ravendawn is something much discussed among mages, but an exercise prohibited by the council, as they are extremely dangerous research and methods and have exorbitant and unimaginable side effects.
It is known by few that the universe of ravendawn is composed of parallel universes or layers, and that the thread that weaves this thread is extremely fragile and a single spark can trigger a catastrophe.

This story began in the Third Age, the 31st of the year XVI, with a magician named Ezanor. He was one of the most brilliant wizards on the continent of Ravendawn and showed great talent in the mystical arts , but his quest for power led him to atrocities , and in one line he studied the Archtype Witchcraft , and this was the beginning of a disturbance of unimaginable precepts . For his pleasures , he recruited a cult to carry out his exploits and in this he killed dozens of people , his cult was known for having no scruples , the dungeons in which the cult resided smelled of death and there were several severed bodies , and blood splattered on the walls , it was a horrifying scene to witness, according to the adventurers and some people who encouraged themselves to walk around the place.
Many were looking for the death of Ezanor to put an end to the horrors caused by him, and finally one day they managed to kill him, that's what everyone thought!
The heroes were revered for a long time , but speculation on the continent of Ravendawn did not stop , said that Ezanor had not died but achieved success in his exploits and became even more powerful and achieved the immortality he so desired , making him unstoppable , but it would be true?
Fear hit the continent of Ravendawn again and many trembled just hearing his name.
Once , a Count of ravencrest recruited a group of 20 powerful adventurers to start a tour and investigate the rumors , and what they found horrified them , near the land of the dead there was an army of skeletons and facing the army a Lich , and this one he wore the same clothes as the wizard Ezanor.

- Lidia, one of the Paladins of the group asked, is it possible?
-Orf, the wizard replied, there's no doubt about it, his aura is the same!

And during a brief thought and sigh, the Lich teleported in and decapitated half of the adventurers and said:

In a sarcastic voice and an evil laugh, did you really think that a powerful wizard like me would be easily defeated? You fell for my prank, what you ended was my clone! HAHAHAHAHHAHA!

Spread the word that the Bone Mage Ezanor has attained immortality and that the continent of Ravendawn will fall to death.
The adventurers, in a fit of fright, ran and in a matter of days every corner of the continent learned that Ezanor had become immortal, and that he used one of his antics, a clone of his Archtype Witchcraft to finish his work and fulfill his wishes.

Given this an unprecedented event began on the continent of ravendawn , where the Lich passed by death accompanied him , and the more citizens of ravendawn perished , the greater his army was , in addition to being immortal he started to use other types of forbidden magic , necromancy , the magic that resurrects the dead, through which it passed the souls did not rest, were imprisoned in bones, and the mage's nickname remained, and his name echoed Ezanor ''the Bone Mage''.​
Souls and more souls, imprisoned in bones, screaming for mercy and help, was what you heard when you came to the skeleton horde, tortured for eternity and now with no affinity to life.
Death, it was what you saw, bones and more bones through the villages, children, the elderly the troops did not choose, it was simply a melancholy and that was how it was summed up when Ezanor, the bone wizard chose, his victims.

And you, will you be tricked by Ezanor ''The Bone Wizard'' and will you be able to save the continent of Ravendawn from its atrocities or will you be beheaded?

Deixo meu conto , e espero que gostem! :D
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Archetypal Raven Dawn
The young man and the chest

In the depths of Ravendawn, a young explorer set out to find a treasure that he claimed was legendary.

This treasure was nothing less than a mysterious chest of dubious provenance. It gave off an abysmal aura, and the mere sight of it provoked a deep chill, which in itself gave reason to run away from it.

This young man in a matter of days, and thanks to the map he had obtained from his father before he died, managed to find the much desired treasure.

But this young man was no exception to what he had told before about the mysterious object. The young man, or more specifically, his body, refused to go near it. A malevolent presence resided within him.

But stronger than his instincts, the young man's greed and longing to obtain what his father had been investigating for so long, he rushed to take the small chest... but, for some reason, the young man stopped moving. His once white skin was tinged with a violet hue, his face gave off a Machiavellian smile and his eyes became as if he were depraved.

The young man and the chest had disappeared from one moment to the next, and the only source of light lay on the floor; the torch previously held by the young man was extinguished, leaving the place without light...

In the middle of the night, a red moon bathed the sky with its light, and next to it, a shadow bathed the earth in blood. A small town, forgotten by all, was the victim of a heinous act. The people of this place were dying for no apparent reason, and their blood splattering the surroundings were proof that none of this was a mere dream.

The remaining villagers, being the few who had managed to escape the bloody massacre, set out to seek refuge in the first town or village they could find; which was an impossible task, since these people had long since turned away from the rest of the world, and there was no one left to guide them, no one to save them.

Walking blindly, the few survivors stopped near the sturdiest tree they could find. Crying, many of them threw themselves to the ground to ask for mercy to whoever would listen to them, be it a spirit or nature itself.

But their moments of peace were temporary. The shadow had found them, and from it there was no mercy with which to elude death.

The cries of weeping and agony had echoed throughout the vast forest, and from one moment to the next, silence reigned.

From afar a huge tree covered with blood could be seen, and beside it stood the culprit of all that had happened. The dark silhouette and the chest in his hands were enough to raise a question: What will become of Lyderia with the awakening of this demon?
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The terrifying incident with the kids, the curse upon the slums of Ravencrast. (title in english)
O terrível incidente com as crianças, a maldição que recai sobre os subúrbios de Ravencrast. (título em português)

English version

Nowadays the slums of Ravencrast are a very hostile and ruined location, but there was a time when the situation was different, however, only the elder people will remember what happened…

Once the location now known as "slums of Ravencrast" was a good place to live called Amorath. Most of its habitants were farmers and comerciants, and the whole city was supplied by these simple and honest persons. Things started to change with the come of a gorgeous spring, when the harvest was historic and the animals have grown very large. In consequences of that, the habitants became very rich and even the humblest among them now had greed in their hearth, existing rumors about plans of taking control of the entire city back then.

During this period ocorred a huge storm, every citizen closed their´s stores and sealed the windows to get protection against the rain. The habitants stayed in their´s homes drinking to celebrate how much money they made this season, all just waiting for the return of the sunlights, but at that night a strange figure appeared in the city. An old lady, wearing a crumbling robe and using a piece of stick to support her weight, knocked on everyone's door. All she asked was a little bit of food and something to drink, but the few people who didn't simply ignore her said that they almost didn't have food for themselves. She knew that people lied to her, she could smell the food in abundance being cooked at their houses, and late at that night all in Amorath heard a strange and loud voice speaking a language they didn't understand, but they feared even so.

No one could forsake what happened in the next days after the storm. Suddenly all the kids got sick, and no one could sleep at night because of their screams. The young ones said they were very hungry, but they vomited all the food that was brought to them, and day by day they lost the color of their faces and looked thicker. The situation was so severe that the king of Ravencrast, fearing the death of his sons, ordered that Amorath was quarantined and those habitants should not circulate around the city, solving the supply problem by boughting food from travelers from other lands.

After some weeks, all the kids was buried, the habitants became poor, and a lot of people committed suicide because of their losses. Everyone thought that this couldn't get worse, but the worst part was still to come.

Strange noises could be heard at night, the ground where the kids was buried seemed to be touched, and the rats suddenly disappeared. During his watch, a guard who isolated Amorath from the rest of Ravencrast heard a huge scream coming from a house, and went there to investigate what was happening. When he passed thru the door and looked to the werehouse of the old construction, what he saw was terrifying. A small furry creature with big thetts and yellow eyes was eating the body of a woman. What scares him the most in the scene was not the creature itself, the monster was wearing some kind of clothes very similar to those used by the kids when they were buried and, unfortunately, he recognized the face behind that monstrous form.

Initially the king captured those beasts and tryed to remove the curse, but all the tentatives failed, so a huge army went to Amorath to exterminate these monsters, however, they were simply born again in the next full moon. Nowadays mercenaries are paid to try to control the number of these creatures, not knowing the true identity of those that they receive to slain, and most of the citizens of Ravencrast don´t remember this tragic history or consciously decided to forget about it. The few habitants of Amorath who survived traveled to distant lands in the south, and until this day they belive that a hero will break the curse casted upon their lands and, once again, they will be able to go back to their homes.

Versão em português

Atualmente os subúrbios de Ravencrast são um local hostil e decadente, mas já houve um tempo em que a situação era diferente, entretanto, apenas os mais antigos se lembram do que ocorreu...

Um dia eles já foram um bom local para se viver chamado Amorath. A maioria de seus habitantes eram fazendeiros e comerciantes, e a cidade de Ravencrast inteira era suprida por essas simples e honestas pessoas. Tudo começou a mudar com a chegada de uma esplêndida primavera, quando a colheita foi histórica e os animais engordaram bastante. Como consequência disso, os habitantes enriqueceram rapidamente e até o mais humilde entre eles agora tinha ganância em seu coração, existindo rumores de que haveriam planos de tomar controle de toda cidade.

Durante esse período ocorreu uma grande tempestade, todos os cidadãos fecharam suas lojas e selaram suas janelas para se protegerem contra a chuva. Eles ficaram em suas casas bebendo e celebrando a grande quantia de dinheiro ganho nessa temporada, apenas esperando o retorno do sol, mas naquela noite uma estranha figura apareceu na cidade. Uma velha, vestindo um velho manto e usando um pedaço de madeira para apoiar seu peso, bateu na porta de cada um deles. Tudo que ela pedia era um pouco de comida e algo para beber, mas os poucos que simplesmente não a ignoraram disseram que mal tinham alimento para si. Ela sabia que aqueles pessoas estavam mentindo, ela podia sentir cheiro de comida sendo cozinhada em grande quantidade em suas casas, e mais tarde naquela noite todos em Amorath ouviram uma estranha e rouca voz proferir palavras em uma língua que eles não conheciam, mas temeram mesmo assim.

Ninguém poderia prever o que aconteceu nos próximos dias depois da tempestade. De repente todas as crianças ficaram doentes, e não se conseguia dormir à noite por conta de seus gritos horripilantes. Os mais novos diziam estar famintos, mas vomitavam toda comida que era trazida até eles, e dia após dia perdiam a cor de suas faces e ficavam cada vez mais magras. A situação se tornou tão severa que o rei de Ravencrast, temendo a morte de seus filhos, ordenou que Amorath ficasse sob quarentena e que seus habitantes não poderiam circular pela cidade, resolvendo o problema dos suprimentos - antes fornecidos por eles - comprando comida de viajantes de terras distantes.

Depois de algumas semanas, todas as crianças foram enterradas, os habitantes cairam na miséria, e muitas pessoas cometeram suicídio por conta de suas perdas. Todos pensavam que a situação não poderia piorar, mas eles não sabiam o que os aguardava.

Sons estranhos podiam ser ouvidos durante a noite, a cova das crianças aparentava ter sido remexida e todos os ratos desapareceram subitamente. Durante sua vigília, um guarda que tinha como função isolar Amorath do resto da cidade ouviu um grande grito vindo de uma casa local, indo investigar o que ocorreu. Quando ele passou pela porta e olhou para dentro do porão da antiga construção, o que ele viu foi aterrorizante. Uma pequena criatura peluda com grandes dentes e olhos amarelados estava comendo o corpo de uma mulher. O que mais o causava terror naquela cena não era a criatura em si, ela estava usando uma roupa parecida com as que as crianças foram enterradas e, infelizmente, ele reconheceu o rosto por trás daquela forma monstruosa.

Inicialmente o rei capturou as bestas e tentou remover a maldição, mas todas as tentativas falharam, então um grande exército foi enviado à Amorath para exterminá-las, porém, elas simplesmente renasciam na próxima lua cheia. Hoje em dia mercenários são pagos para tentar controlar o número das criaturas, não sabendo a real identidade daqueles que recebem para matar, e a maioria dos cidadãos de Ravencrast não se lembra dessa trágica história ou conscientemente decidiu esquecê-la. Os poucos habitantes de Amorath que sobreviveram fugiram para terras distantes no sul, e até hoje acreditam que um herói irá quebrar a maldição conjurada sobre suas terras e, finalmente, poderão voltar para suas casas.
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Well-known member
[ENG] The Devourer.

13th attempt. I was successful using a vampire's brain, but the creature could not be controlled by the Lord and had to be sacrificed; a real shame. It looks like the days of darkness will continue; the price I have been paying for knowledge exceeds the value of my soul. Maybe I'm already insane, but even as I try to hold the fire, its heat doesn't reach me and the pain is somehow comforting.

[Blood stains]

16th attempt; a new failure. The brains of adult humans proved to be more effective than those of animals, however complete rejection happened within a few days and the degree of dementia is inoperable. I believe that younger brains have a greater adaptability; I wanted to avoid that path, but I can't stop now, and I need to deliver results! I will ask the Vampire Lord for more material.

17th attempt; a new failure. It's insane to ask God for success in my experiment, but there are only 8 out of 12 children left; may He hear the prayers of these young men, because for me what's left is darkness. Three of the creatures had similar results to the previous ones, but one of them showed a certain level of consciousness, although it suffered from severe convulsions and delusions during the 3 days it survived. I believe the vampire heart, used to supply the dead body, is collapsing the inserted brain. Maybe the.. [Blood stains]

21st attempt. Success at last! The last of the children, Elizabeth. Your image will be engraved in my deepest nightmares; her determined eyes were a beautiful amber and contrasted with her reddish hair. I believe that having a good affinity with magic was instrumental in allowing the brain to adapt to the heart, she would certainly be the greatest adventurer, she aspired to be, but now she is part of something bigger and will give some light to the darkest of creations. Vampire heart, human brain, ogre trunk, claws of... [Blood stains]

3rd follow-up report: She has proven to be a born hunter and has a frightening appetite, inheriting the instinct of the various creatures that make up her body. Today we made the first test of strength against some adventurers who were foolish enough to go deeper into the Deadlands. Though experienced, they didn't stand a chance in the face of the brutal attacks that disfigured their fragile human bodies. The vampires are calling her the Ripper, but although she's a killing machine, I can't disassociate her from Elizabeth's image.

4th follow-up report: Impressive! Elizabeth's evolution is exceeding all expectations; apparently your body is gaining more power by consuming other creatures; some limbs developed in a peculiar way, as if she were accelerating the maturation of a still young body. She's almost twice the size of her first form, and while her intelligence isn't keeping up at the same speed, her degree of insight and instinct is frightening. I believe her brain is strong enough to receive the parasite; your heart must guarantee acceptance and... [Blood stains]

5th follow-up report: After destroying several camps, rumors about the emergence of a Demon have spread across the continent. A Demon that consumes the flesh, bones and spirit of any creature in its path, with an insatiable appetite; where, if not for the spilled blood and material possessions left behind, there would be no trace. The personification of darkness, hate, curse on earth. They are right and everything is going as expected, however, something worries me a little. That night the brutality of the attacks caused nausea in the coldest beings, especially against those who appeared to be adventurers - I believe that the girl's unfulfilled desire, who craved adventure, aroused a deep hatred in her dead heart, but the biggest problem was how she looked at us afterwards. If some conscience of Elizabeth prevailed, even corrupted by hatred, we are no longer safe. Let's advance the control procedure; it's time to enslave her. It is coming to an end, and I will soon become one of them; the Lord will... [Blood stains]

7th follow-up report: Today is the day the Lord will take control of my terrible creation and grace me with his blood. I will become one of them, and I will be able to live long enough to learn and do so much more! I know the cost was high, but feelings only make sense in short, mediocre lives. Eliz... No, the Devourer is locked up, we can't trust him anymore, but this... [Blood stains]

Investigation Group Report: Information was correct; we found traces of several victims in an underground hiding place in a cave in the DeadLands. There was a completely disfigured body on the ground, still decomposing, and several pots with parts of creatures, some known and some not. There were many magical papers and symbols, but most were illegible. We are submitting a portion of a diary that we were able to retrieve; apparently the vampires were up to something. We also found a basement with huge chains, which were broken, and several seals. The rumors about the Transfigured Demon seem to be real. This information must reach the captain; we will proceed with the investigation. At. Marcos Virtus, 4th Commander.​
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Well-known member
[PT-BR] O Devorador.

13ª tentativa. Obtive sucesso ao utilizar o cérebro de um vampiro, mas a criatura não podia ser controlada pelo Lord e precisou ser sacrificada; uma verdadeira pena. Parece que os dias de escuridão vão continuar; o preço que venho pagando por conhecimento excede o valor da minha alma. Talvez eu já esteja insano, mas mesmo tentando segurar o fogo, seu calor não chega até mim e a dor é, de certa forma, confortável.

[Manchas de sangue]

16ª tentativa; uma nova falha. Os cérebros de humanos adultos se mostraram mais efetivos do que os de animais, contudo a rejeição completa aconteceu em poucos dias e o grau de demência é inoperável. Acredito que cérebros mais jovens possuem maior poder de adaptação; queria evitar esse caminho, mas não posso parar agora e preciso apresentar resultados! Irei solicitar novos recursos para o Lord Vampiro.

17ª tentativa; uma nova falha. É insano pedir a Deus por sucesso em meu experimento, mas restam apenas 8 das 12 crianças; que Ele escute a oração desses jovens, pois para mim resta a escuridão. Três das criaturas tiveram resultado semelhante às anteriores, mas uma delas apresentou certo nível de consciência, embora tenha sofrido de fortes convulsões e delírios durante os 3 dias que sobreviveu. Acredito que o coração de vampiro, utilizado para suprir o corpo morto, esteja colapsando o cérebro inserido. Talvez a [Manchas de sangue]

21ª tentativa. Finalmente o sucesso! A última das crianças, Elizabeth. Sua imagem ficará gravada nos meus mais profundos pesadelos; seus olhos determinados pareciam um belo âmbar e contrastavam com os cabelos avermelhados. Acredito que possuir boa afinidade com magia foi determinante para permitir a adaptação do cérebro ao coração, certamente ela seria a grande aventureira que almejava, mas agora faz parte de algo maior e dará um pouco de luz para a mais sombria das criações. Coração de vampiro, cérebro de humano, tronco de ogro, garras de.. [Manchas de sangue]

3º relato de acompanhamento: Ela tem se mostrado uma caçadora nata e possui um apetite assustador, herdando o instinto das várias criaturas que compõem o seu corpo. Hoje fizemos o primeiro teste de força contra alguns aventureiros que foram tolos o suficiente para irem mais a fundo nas Deadlands. Embora experientes, não tiveram chance alguma diante dos ataques brutais que desfiguraram seus frágeis corpos humanos. Os vampiros estão chamando-a de Dilaceradora, mas embora seja uma máquina de matar, não consigo desassociá-la da imagem de Elizabeth.

4º relato de acompanhamento: Impressionante! A evolução de Elizabeth está superando todas as expectativas; aparentemente seu corpo está ganhando mais poder ao consumir outras criaturas; alguns membros se desenvolveram de forma peculiar, como se ela estivesse acelerando a maturação de um corpo ainda jovem. Ela está quase com o dobro do tamanho de sua primeira forma, e embora a inteligência não esteja acompanhando na mesma velocidade, seu grau de percepção e instinto são assustadores. Acredito que o cérebro dela está forte o suficiente para receber o parasita; seu coração deve garantir a aceitação e.. [Manchas de sangue]

5º relato de acompanhamento: Após destruir diversos acampamentos os boatos sobre o surgimento de um Demônio tem se espalhado por todo o continente. Um Demônio que consome a carne, ossos e espírito de qualquer criatura em seu caminho, com um apetite insaciável; se não fosse pelo sangue espirrado e os bens materiais deixados para trás, não haveria vestígio. A personificação da escuridão, do ódio, da maldição sobre a terra. Eles estão certos e tudo está ocorrendo como o esperado, contudo algo me preocupa um pouco. Essa noite a brutalidade dos ataques causou náuseas nos seres mais frios, especialmente contra aqueles que aparentavam ser aventureiros - acredito que o desejo não realizado da garota, que almejava por aventuras, tenha despertado um profundo ódio em seu coração morto, mas o maior problema foi como ela nos encarou depois. Se alguma consciência da Elizabeth prevaleceu, mesmo corrompida pelo ódio, não estamos mais seguros. Vamos adiantar o procedimento de controle, é hora de escravizá-la. Está chegando ao fim e logo me tornarei um deles; o Lord vai.. [Manchas de sangue]

7º relato de acompanhamento: Hoje é o dia em que o Lord tomará o controle da minha terrível criação e irá me agraciar com seu sangue. Irei me tornar um deles e poderei viver o suficiente para aprender e fazer muito mais! Sei que o custo foi alto, mas sentimentos só fazem sentido em vidas curtas e medíocres. Eliz.. Não, o Devorador está preso, não podemos mais confiar nele, mas isso.. [Manchas de sangue]

Relatório do grupo de investigação: As informações estavam corretas; encontramos vestígios de várias vítimas em um esconderijo no subsolo de uma caverna nas DeadLands. Havia um corpo completamente desfigurado no chão, ainda em decomposição, e vários potes com partes de criaturas, algumas conhecidas e outras não. Haviam muitos papéis e símbolos mágicos, contudo a maioria era ilegível. Estamos encaminhando uma parte de um diário que conseguimos recuperar; aparentemente os vampiros estavam tramando algo. Também encontramos um porão com correntes enormes, que foram partidas, e vários selamentos. Os boatos sobre o Demônio Transfigurado parecem ser reais. Essas informações devem chegar ao capitão; iremos seguir com a investigação. Att, Marcos Virtus, 4º Comandante.​
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New member
The Hunt

"What's wrong, Crusher?" sounded the dwarf's voice, one of his hands releasing the reins from the boar's huge tusks to pull the pipe away from his mouth, while the other pat the head of the animal that had stopped walking and started sniffing the half-frozen grass.

Gloin released a long puff of smoke that fill the air with a sweet scent as floating skyward.

"What was it boy?" he repeated, his feet taping the animal's flank in a sign of encouragement.

In response the boar seemed to sniff the ground more intensely, strands of steam escaping from its nostrils, Gloin observed his mount carefully, his eyes following the animal moves.

“Hum,” he grunted.

"Looks like the night just got more interesting, let’s go" He ordered, tapping his heels on the side of the animal, that spring off with speed.

The freezing wind lashed Gloin face as they both advanced through the trees, the slapping sound of the metal plates from both the dwarf and his mount armor echoing through the forest as the boar leapt and charged across the frozen ground.

When Crusher finally stopped, Gloin found himself beyond his usual hunting area, the boar sniffed the air with the usual growl that signaled it had found what it was looking for, its nostrils releasing small clouds of steam as it assumed its aggressive posture.

“What do we have here,” Said Gloin, his fingers wrapping around the handle of the double-bladed axe he carried in his back as he surveyed his surroundings.

His eyes, used to the darkness of the depths of the dwarf mines, had little difficulty seeing in the night of the full moon, even mounted Gloin could see the outlines left in the snow that covered the forest floor, revealing the tracks of whatever his prey was.

In a quick move he leapt off the boar's back, his weight making him sink a few inches into the snow with a muffled thud, he now found himself in a small glade, sturdy trees bordering the area surrounded by bushes, their massive trunks rising towards the darkness of the night holding branches decorated with icicles that pointed toward the ground.

Gloin remained still, with one hand he adjusted the pipe between his mouth while the other remained steady on his axe, letting a puff of smoke escape between his lips he remained motionless, his ears watchful for the sounds of the night, following the howling of the wind and the rustle of the few leaves that had survived the winter.

Slowly he walked to the trail, his knee touching the icy ground as he bent down to study the markings.

"Frostwolf" he muttered as he analyzed the perfect marks the animal's paw had left in the snow.

His gaze followed the trail disappearing into a clump of frozen bushes, where broken branches covered with a thinner layer of snow revealed a clear path to follow.

“Stay here” he growled at the boar, whose nostrils released a blast of hot air in response.

Gloin walked carefully to the bushes, remnants of white fur tangled in thorns revealing what he already knew as he walked over the brittle branches.

He made his way through the trees, the sound of snow being crushed by his boots mingling with the howling of the wind, which was now accompanied by the ominous hooting of an owl.

"What a heck?" said Gloin, interrupting his walk when he realized the trail was gone.

With a long drag from his pipe, he turned in place, his eyes searching for any sign that would indicate the direction his prey had gone, but finding only more ice and darkness.

It was as if the animal had disappeared into the exact spot where Gloin was standing, one last pair of footprints fading into nothingness.

Confused, he drove the axe into the side of the tree that rose up beside him, his hand scratching his long beard as his lung took another drag from his pipe.

"For Gimli's beard" he muttered "That doesn't make any sense" and his voice rang out in the silence.

Silence observed Gloin, realizing the strange stillness that had invaded the forest, the hooting of the owl had stopped along the howling of the wind, and something new seemed to have taken its place.

A Ploc, broke the silence.

Ploc, ploc, he listened the drip.

Gloin turned and where once there had been only white snow, now a splash of bright red was spreading, he observed the new discovery with an instant of confusion before directing his eyes upwards, where he found, tied by a rope to the tree that rose up beside him, the frozen carcass of an ice wolf, swaying slightly several feet off the ground, a thin red line running down the side of its shattered body.

Creck, came the snap of a nearby branch, once again interrupting the silence, a long and ominous hoot sound at distance, and all Gloin was able to do was grab his axe, a line of smoke dancing in the air while the pipe falls at the snow, and he was casting into the darkness.

A Caçada

“Qual o problema, triturador?” soou a voz do anão, uma de suas mãos soltando as rédeas que se prendiam as enormes presas do javali para afastar o cachimbo da boca, enquanto a outra afagava a cabeça do animal que havia parado de andar e passara a farejar a grama semicongelada.

Gloin liberou uma longa baforada de fumaça, enchendo o ar com um aroma adocicado enquanto a massa branca flutuava em direção ao céu.

“O que foi rapaz?” Repetiu ele, seus pés roçando o flanco do animal em um sinal de incentivo.

Em resposta o javali pareceu farejar o chão com mais intensidade, fios de vapor escapando por seu focinho, Gloin observou com atenção sua montaria, seus olhos cerrados acompanhando a movimentação do animal.

“Hum” grunhiu ele.

“Parece que a noite acaba de ficar interessante, vá” Ordenou, batendo com os calcanhares na lateral do animal, que disparou com velocidade.

O vento congelante açoitava seu rosto conforme ambos avançavam por entre as árvores, o som do sacolejar das placas de metal tanto do anão quanto de sua montaria ecoando pela floresta conforme o javali saltava e avança pelo terreno congelado.

Quando triturador finalmente interrompeu sua corrida Gloin se encontrou além de sua zona habitual de caça, o javali farejou o ar emitindo o rosnado habitual que sinalizava ter encontrado o que procurava, suas narinas liberando pequenas nuvens de vapor conforme ele assumia sua postura agressiva.

“O que nós temos aqui” disse Gloin, seus dedos envolvendo o cabo do machado de lâmina dupla que trazia em suas costas enquanto observava os arredores.

Seus olhos acostumados a escuridão das profundezas das minas anãs tiveram pouca dificuldade em enxergar na noite de lua cheia, mesmo de cima da montaria Gloin podia enxergar os contornos deixados na neve que cobria o chão da floresta, revelando rastros de qualquer fosse sua presa.

Em um movimento rápido ele saltou das costas do javali, seu peso o fazendo afundar alguns centímetros na nave com um baque abafado, ele agora se encontrava em uma clareira pequena, árvores robustas delimitavam a área rodeada de arbustos, seus troncos massivos se erguiam para a escuridão da noite sustentando galhos decorados por estacas de gelo que apontavam em direção ao chão.

Gloin permaneceu parado, com uma das mãos ele ajustou o cachimbo entre na boca enquanto a outra permanecia firme em seu machado, deixando uma baforada do fumo escapar por entre os lábios ele permaneceu imóvel, seus ouvidos avaliando os sons da noite, acompanhando o uivar do vento e o farfalhar de das poucas folhas que haviam sobrevivido ao inverno.

Lentamente ele caminhou até o rastro, seu joelho encostando no chão gelado conforme se abaixava para analisar as marcações.

“Frostwolf” murmurou ao analisar as marcas perfeitas que a pata do animal havia deixado na neve.

Seu olhar seguiu o rastro desaparecer entre um amontoado de arbustos congelados, onde galhos quebrados e cobertos por uma camada de neve mais fina revelavam um caminho claro a ser seguido.

“Fique aqui” rosnou ele para o javali, cujas narinas soltaram uma rajada de ar quente em resposta.

Gloin caminhou até os arbustos com cuidado, restos de pelo branco enroscados em espinhos revelavam o que ele já sabia enquanto passava por sobre os galhos quebradiços.

Ele seguiu por entre as árvores, o som da neve sendo amaçada por suas botas se misturando ao uivar do vento agora, que passara a ser acompanhado pelo piar agourento de uma coruja.

“Mas o quê?” disse Gloin, interrompendo a caminhada ao perceber que o rastro havia sumido.

Com uma longa tragada de seu cachimbo ele girou sem sair do lugar, seus olhos procurando por qualquer sinal que indicasse a direção em que sua presa havia seguido, mas encontrando apenas mais gelo e escuridão.

Era como se o animal tivesse desaparecido no exato lugar onde Gloin estava de pé, um último par de pegadas sumindo em direção ao nada.

Confuso, ele fincou o machado na lateral da árvore que se erguia ao seu lado, sua mão coçando a longa barba enquanto seu pulmão puxava outra tragada do cachimbo.

“Pelas barbas de Gimli” murmurou ele “Isso não faz nenhum sentido” e sua voz ressoou pelo silêncio.

“Silêncio” observou Gloin, notando a estranha aquietação que invadira a floresta, o pior da coruja havia sessado junto ao uivar do vento, e algo novo parecia ter tomado seu lugar.

Ploc, ele escutou.

Ploc, ploc, soou o gotejar.

Gloin se virou e onde a um instante havia apenas neve branca, agora se espalhava uma mancha de vermelho vivo, ele observou a nova descoberta com um instante de confusão antes de direcionar seu olhar para cima, onde encontrou, preso por uma corda na arvore que se erguia ao seu lado, a carcaça congelada de um lobo de gelo, balançando levemente a vários metros do chão, uma fina linha vermelha escorrendo pela lateral do seu corpo destroçado.

Creck, soou o estalar de um galho próximo, interrompendo o silêncio, e tudo que Gloin pode fazer foi agarrar seu machado antes de ser atirado em meio a escuridão.​


New member
Day 17 of the fourteenth winter of the Third Age

I write with regret, my dear friends. Sadness that could be explained because this will be the last time I write to you. However, I do not intend to dress up lies or tell you half-truths, so there is no reason not to be honest immediately, both with you and with me. Such a feeling rises in my chest for the sad fact that this letter is, of my sins, the greatest.

In the following lines I will commit the crime of treason as regards your trust, as well as the crime of murder as regards your innocence. Far from me to consider you as less than noble, good and faithful people who have entrusted me and my fleet the task of heading out to sea in search of redemption for our kind. In the past, we marched, killed, sinned and drank together. Also together we saw deeds of mankind that would be in tales of horror, and around bonfires we sang our hearts into numbness. As we used to say, war is much worse than hell, since in hell you don't expect to find innocents. And together we survived it. The war made us carry burdens which, I dare say, few men would carry. Burdens which, moreover, I hope few will have to carry. However, what I will share with you from now on is, in the absence of any properly ominous adjective, worse than war.

There is no grace in the world greater than your ignorance. Your inability to remember events I faced in here. Thanks to this, you remain on sinking islands of ignorance, prostrate amidst dark oceans which we should not sail. The real truth, my dear friends, is this: we are not alone.

I urge you to gather as much belief as you can. I am sure that the next words will sound like the dementia or whining of a senile man, isolated from society, victim of the evils he has caused. But they are the very truth.

In dark corners, on dimly lit nights - or bathed in the full moon - walk among us vile creatures that could not even be called creatures in the eyes of God. They are monsters, cunning and sinister beings visible to our eyes and the eyes of our minds. They are living proof that, at the dawn of the universe, not even God was alone. These monsters vary in form, with each particular one having its own heretics, nefarious and hateful abilities. Among them, there are vocal qualities characteristic of men, and other peculiar to beasts. Still, I assure you that it is terrible to hear one when you were expecting the other.

Ex nihilo nihil fit.

In order to understand such monstrosities and mainly to fight them, my good men and I created an order, a group of science, strategists, warriors and students of the occult. A group that has its numbers dwindling with each new spring. And this is the dark reason why I send you this letter. And this is also the reason why I pray that it doesn't come to you. In the false hope that your innocence will not be shattered by the hideous reality of this new land, which has always been our greatest hope. However, my duty to humanity is such that I must make every effort to give us a chance. Even when something horrible is approaching. I am constantly dreaming of the War that will end all wars, and without you we are doomed.

With each passing day the horizons blossom, revealing places no other man has ever been and should ever be. Profane things are coming up at increasing numbers. I hope, from the bottom of my soul, that our camaraderie still exists, and that some shred of respect or affection for me resides in your hearts. If any of these conditions are true, please go – together and prepared - to the location at the end of the letter. There you will find arguments that, however tenebrous, are indisputable.

As for me, it's up to me to accept my destiny and pray to all the gods, of all faiths, that some kind of forgiveness finds my way. This thought brings me comfort in these final hours, though it's just a faint wish, a candle that sees its fire dancing in the wind, about to go out, for I committed the greatest of my sins. For I have opened your eyes.

Lucien Ravencrest

Dia 17 do décimo quarto inverno da Terceira Era

Escrevo-os com pesar, meus caros amigos. Pesar este que poderia ser explicado pois, com certeza, esta será a última vez que vos escrevo. Todavia, não pretendo enfeitar mentiras ou lhes contar meias verdades, portanto razão não há para não ser honesto de imediato, tanto convosco, quanto comigo. Tal sentimento aflora em meu peito pelo triste fato de que esta carta é, dos meus pecados, o maior.

Nas linhas a seguir cometerei o crime de traição, quanto a vossa confiança, bem como o crime de homicídio, quanto à vossa inocência. Longe de mim considerá-los menos do que nobres, boas e esperançosas pessoas que confiaram a mim e minha frota a tarefa de nos lançarmos aos mares em busca da redenção para nosso povo. No passado, marchamos, matamos, pecamos e bebemos juntos. Também juntos vimos feitos da humanidade que dignos de contos de terror, e e ao redor de fogueiras cantamos até entorpecer nosso corações. Como costumávamos falar, a guerra é muito pior que o inferno, posto que no inferno não se espera encontrar inocentes. E juntos sobrevivemos. A guerra nos fez carregar fardos que, ouso dizer, poucos homens carregariam. Fardos que, mais ainda, espero que poucos tenham que carregar. Entretanto, o que dividirei com vocês daqui para frente é, na ausência de adjetivo propriamente nefasto, pior do que a guerra.

Não há graça no mundo maior do que vossa ignorância. Sua incapacidade de lembrar eventos vivenciados por mim, aqui. Graças a isso, vocês permanecem em ilhas de ignorância que se afundam, prostradas em meio a oceanos escuros que não deveríamos navegar. A verdadeira verdade, meus queridos amigos, é esta: não estamos sozinhos.

Daqui para frente, clamo que reúnam o máximo de crença que puderem. Se não for possível, então que o façam quanto ao respeito que conquistei. Tenho por certo que as próximas palavras soarão como demência ou lamúrias de um homem senil, isolado da sociedade, vítima dos males que causou. Mas são a mais pura verdade.

Em cantos escuros, em noites de pouca luz - ou banhadas pela lua cheia - caminham entre nós vis criaturas que não poderiam sequer ser chamadas de criaturas aos olhos de Deus. São monstros, entidades ardilosas e sinistras visíveis aos nossos olhos e aos olhos de nossa mente. São provas vivas de que, no alvorecer do universo, nem mesmo Deus estava sozinho. Esses monstros possuem as mais variadas formas, sendo que cada representação possui suas próprias hereges, nefastas e odiosas habilidades. Entre elas, existem qualidades vocais que são características dos homens, e outras peculiares às bestas. Ainda, garanto a vós que é terrível ouvir uma quando da fonte deveria vir outra.

Ex nihilo nihil fit.

E foi com o intuito de entender tais monstruosidades e principalmente combatê-las, que eu e meus homens de bem criaram uma ordem, um grupo de ciência, estrategistas, guerreiros e estudiosos do oculto. Um grupo que vê suas fileiras minguarem a cada nova primavera. E esta é a tenebrosa razão pela qual lhes envio esta carta. E é também esta a razão pela qual oro que a mesma não chegue até vocês. Na ilusão de que a vossa inocência não seja estraçalhada pela realidade hedionda dessa nova terra, que sempre foi nossa maior esperança. No entanto, meu dever para com a humanidade é tal que devo fazer todos os esforços para nos dar uma chance. Mesmo quando algo horrível se aproxima. Estou constantemente sonhando com a guerra que acabará com todas as guerras, e sem você estamos condenados.

A cada dia que passa, os horizontes florescem, revelando lugares que nenhum homem jamais e jamais deveria estar. Coisas profanas estão surgindo em números cada vez maiores. Espero, do fundo da minha alma, que nossa camaradagem ainda exista e que algum resquício de respeito ou afeto por mim resida em seus corações. Se alguma dessas condições for verdadeira, vão - juntos e preparados - para o local no final da carta. Lá vocês encontrarão argumentos que, embora tenebrosos, são indiscutíveis.

Quanto a mim, cabe aceitar meu destino e rezar a todos os deuses, de todas as crenças, que algum tipo de perdão me encontre. Esse pensamento me traz conforto nessas horas finais, apesar de ser apenas um desejo fraco, uma vela que vê seu fogo dançar ao vento, prestes a se apagar. Pois cometi o maior dos meus pecados. Pois eu abri vossos olhos.

Sinto muito,
Lucien Ravencrest
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New member

Sturge was a humble blacksmith, who raised your dauther alone since his wife's death at childbirth. Always thinking in give his child a better future, Sturge saw an oportunity to change their lives forever with the king's announcement: "That one who brings me the best weapon, worthy of a KING, will be allowed to live in the royal castle with all nobility benefits.
To Sturge, it was like a possible dream: He was a blacksmith! So, everything he has to do its his own work! But to forge a weapon worthy of a king he would need something different from iron or silver like he was used to deal.
Since when he started at forges, Sturge heard about an legendary ore, the dream of every blacksmith: The Rainbow Shell. This ore never had its origin uncovered, although it was always said that with this ore, its possible to craft a weapon capable of split the earth in half or craft an armor that could suppress a meteor impact!
Sturge then headed to the only place he could to get information about the Rainbow Shell: The Monastery Library, not too far from his village. After a few days of uninterrupted researching, Sturge finally found clues about a possible place, where should be possible to find more informations about the Rainbow Shell: The legendary minotaur's library. Guarded by monsters with red eyes, curved horns, corded muscles and feared by everybody! But Sturge wouldnt measure efforts for his childs future.
Sturge then head to the famous "Ruins" in search for his objective, holding his axe, ready for any incomming battle. Getting close to the ruins, Sturge saw, right at the entrance what looks like two big and red eyes, watching him, no blinking. Sturge then withdraw his axe and walk carefully towards it. 2 meters of distance from the creature, Sturge was ready to blow it, when suddenly, the eyes came from the shadow, it was a Minotaur, who said: "Welcome lil man, i was waiting for you".
His body trembled watching the huge minotaur, not only facing him, but also talking! He had read about some legends where minotaurs could talk, write and use magic, but he never tought it was really possible.
"My name is Ronks and i know why you are here little man". Said the minotaur that had at least twice Sturge's size!
Sturge tried to say something but words just didnt came from his mouth. He was shocked obviously. Ronks then said: "You're another adventurer looking for our knowledge right? Maybe you need clues about the Rainbow Shell?"
Sturge agreed with his head and said "YES! And i'll do everything to get it" while holding his axe harder than before, ready to attack!
"Calm down little man, im not a fighter, nor have intention to kill you. Unlike it, i wanna help you." Said the Minotaur.
"You're lucky. I know a detail to save your life". Ronks then tell to Sturge that the next day is Halloween. A supersticious and silly day right? Wrong. If you enter in "Faun's Maze", where is located the Rainbow Shell, you only can leave there at Halloween day! Many travellers lost their lives there, cuz they didnt knew that detail. They got stucked, starved or died by another danger...
Ronks then tell to Sturge that he need to leave immediately to the Maze, to be able to get back at Halloween day. Then Sturge tells him about his child, alone at home, defenseless, he couldnt take too long in that journey.
Ronks says he has some experience with children, since he was raised by humans...a long story, but he would be happy in helping Sturge at this moment.
Afraid, Sturge thinks about it for a minute and need to choose between continue the search and accept the minotaurs help or try again, alone, another day...
To Sturge, it was very difficult to believe in a so fearsome creature, with no reasons to help him. Perceiving his toughts, Ronks gave him a magical mirror, capable of showing in real time, both sides, Ronks and Sturge. That way, they would be able to see every step of each other. Ronks said to Sturge he could even guide him, helping him at Faun's Maze.
While heading to the Maze, Sturge guided Ronks to your house, where his daughter was locked and ordered to not open the door, unless she hear the password: "Ravendown".
Ronks arrives at Sturges house, while he was exploring the Maze, when he warned the minotaur about that password to make his child open the door.
Sturge's daughter then opened the door and froze when realized what was in her front. Ronks suddenly change its voice and now it looks even bigger, when it looks at the mirror and says: "Do you recognize me now little man"? Like a blink of eyes, a mist was gone from Sturge's mind and he connect the dots: Ronks... was just an anagram to SKORN, LORD SKORN!
Too late to do anything now, the blacksmith just ask "Why? What do you want"?!
The creature answers: "The same as you. The Rainbow Shell. Bring it to me and have your child back".
Since then, its said that Sturge The Blacksmith still roaming around Faun's Maze, looking for the Rainbow Shell, while his daugthers whereabouts remains unknow. All we know so far is that we cannot trust in Minotaurs, and the Rainbow Shell still missing...


New member
Eighth poem

Someone is reading, finally.
Do you want power, money... or just to be regarded?
Then read me carefully, and you'll be rewarded.
Obviusly, it won't happen till you do it, entirely.
So find a place to sit and enjoy, to be enlightned.

There are legends that tell about a handful of notes
The stories spread over kingdoms and ages
Written in the form of poem's quotes
Dark is their text, and cursed are their pages.

With blood as their ink
And flesh as their paper
Caused their readers to sink
Including their maker

From Harbor Island, John was his name
He dreamed of power, women and fame
He found the first poem, that would grant a wish
And ended up sleeping, deep with the fish

There's no man alive to tell the tales
Of a creature from the deep, which terror entails
Armed with tentacles, armored with scales
Brought forth by the second poem, beckoned by word
It's grasp, icy death, colder than Glaceforde

Once, there was a kingdom, wealthy and strong
Thriving in the desert, filled with treasure and song
Their ruler led every subject to demise.
Only by reading a single cursed line
This is the story of that kingdom's decline.
When all it's inhabitants transformed into swine.

From depths of Meridium and Estermar oceans.
The fourth poem brought a cursed group of Zorians.
Far greater than a bunch of common of it's kind.
They start to eat, and left no one behind.

An old witch came to a town
the folks pursued and burned her alive
Midst the fire she proclaimed with terrifying howl
The fifth cursed poem, and no one survived.

In a very poor village, only lit by the stars
A young village boy dreamed of going far
He found a scrap of paper, and thought it was neat
After all, in the village, he was the only one who could read.
He read. Nothing happened. Thought the boy.
Little did he know, what he had destroyed.
Woke up in the night, and his village was no more.

In a city, was a woman mother of three
Who read the seventh poem to put the kids to sleep
Later in that night, there is a killing spree
More than seventy died, and it's the children's deed.

With these poems there's no reward
They'll lead you to the death's ward.
They promise Wealth, Fame and Power.
But give only death, and will leave you sour

There are hundreds of similar tales, everywhere.
In mysterious paper, written in red.
This is a warning, if you find it, beware.
Think twice before reading, lest it brings you despair

The eighth poem was read, there's nothing to do.
So now you should wonder, what'll happen to you?
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Lucas F.

( -_・) ︻デ═一
The Blood Potion Tale 🩸

Long ago, when the first settler families arrived on the newly discovered continent of Ravendawn, there was a young researcher. His name was Thomas Crowen.
Unlike most, Thomas had almost no problems facing all the challenges and uncertainties that had arisen since his arrival. This was possible thanks to his focus on achieving his greatest desire, to become a famous herbalist, the greatest among his peers. Thomas saw Ravendawn as an opportunity to advance in the art of potion making, scientific experiments and spells.
One day as usual, Thomas woke up early, took his backpack and placed his work tools and some empty flasks inside. He left towards the dense virgin woods of Ravendawn to collect herbs, mushrooms and insects for his researches.
For some reason that day Thomas decided to explore a deeper area of the forest, an inhospitable and uncharted region, which the settlement's residents called Deadlands. This region had a bad reputation among the residents, as everyone who entered was never seen again. Skeptical, Thomas moved forward without fear despite the potential dangers the region could offer, it was as if something was calling to him.
Days passed and Crowen did not return. This made the atmosphere among the residents increasingly tense and distressing. Deep down everyone was waiting for the news of his death. Thomas would be another victim of those mysterious lands.
Years have passed since the disappearance of Thomas Crowen. The human civilization in Ravendawn has grown exponentially to become highly developed. But just as the sun rises in the East and sets in the West, the fearsome and mysterious Deadlands were still the bane of humanity. Few had the audacity to enter its domains, which is currently known to be lair of countless dark creatures, especially vampires, who reign as sovereigns.
Humanity's response to the Deadlands threat was the creation of the controversial Slayer’s Guild, an order specializing in vampire hunting, whose base was the Fangwatch Fort outpost in the Deadlands. The population mostly saw the members of this guild as heroes, but there were those who cursed them, as they thought it would be better leave the vampires alone.
One day a member of the Slayer’s Guild arrived in the capital, wounded in combat, his name was Larion Elveno. Still weak from blood loss of his wounds, he muttered about an unusual vampire who possessed an almost human look. Larion said that after shooting him, he found in his remains a book written in what seemed to have the standard of human language, but heavily damaged during the battle.
After two years of effort, scholars managed to obtain an almost complete translation of the book found by Larion. Apparently it was a diary, in which a list of ingredients was noted. Scholars reported that as they progressed in translating the diary, the ingredients became increasingly complex, some unknown to the human race. In addition, the way to describe and the writing itself became increasingly cold and technical, it is as if the author was gradually possessed by another personality.
Alchemists carried out experiments using the list of ingredients in different concentrations, after many failed attempts finally came to a result. A blood red liquid, but no blood smell, but a very pleasant smell. The liquid obtained was tested on warriors on the verge of death as a result of their wounds. After ingestion, all individuals showed exponential improvement, a true miracle that even today saves the lives of our brothers and sisters.
Many years later an elderly scholar requested the book for his research. He accidentally drop the book off his workbench resulting in the inner cover becoming detached. The scholar bent down to pick up the book when he saw a small inscription on the site of detachment, it was written "Property of Thomas Crowen"
Even today, street performers sing the story of the man who wanted to be the greatest herbalist, and managed to do, but at the cost of his own life.

🇧🇷 Se você quiser ler a versão em PT-BR, expanda o texto aqui:

O conto da poção de sangue 🩸

A muito tempo atrás, quando as primeiras famílias de colonos chegavam no recém-descoberto continente de Ravendawn, havia um jovem pesquisador. Seu nome era Thomas Crowen.
Thomas, diferentemente da maioria, não teve problemas em enfrentar todos os desafios e incertezas que se apresentaram desde a sua chegada. Isso foi possível graças ao seu foco em alcançar o seu maior desejo, se tornar um poderoso herbalista, o maior entre seus pares. Thomas encarou Ravendawn como uma oportunidade de avançar na arte de criação de poções, experimentos e magias.
Um certo dia, Thomas acordou cedo, pegou sua mochila e dentro dela colocou suas ferramentas de trabalho e alguns frascos vazios. Partiu rumo as densas matas virgens de Ravendawn para coletar ervas, cogumelos e insetos para suas pesquisas.
Por algum motivo, nesse dia Thomas resolveu explorar uma área mais profunda da mata, uma região inóspita e ainda não mapeada, que os moradores do assentamento chamavam de Deadlands. Essa região possuía uma má fama entre os moradores, pois todos os que entraram nunca mais foram vistos. Cético, Thomas avançou sem medo apesar dos potenciais perigos que a região pode oferecer, era como se algo o estivesse chamando.
Os dias foram passando e Crowen não retornava. Isso fez o clima entre os moradores cada vez mais tenso e angustiante. No fundo todos aguardavam a notícia de sua morte. Thomas seria mais uma vítima daquelas terras misteriosas.
Anos se passaram desde o sumiço de Thomas Crowen, a civilização humana em Ravendawn cresceu exponencialmente se tornando altamente desenvolvida. Porém, assim como, o sol nasce no Leste e se põe no Oeste, as temíveis e misteriosas Deadlands ainda eram a pedra no sapato da humanidade. Poucos tinham a audácia de adentrar em seus domínios, que atualmente sabe-se ser o lar de inúmeras criaturas das trevas, especialmente os vampiros, que reinam como soberanos.
A resposta da humanidade para a ameaça de Deadlands foi a criação da polêmica Slayer’s guild, uma ordem especializada na caça de vampiros, cuja base era o posto avançado de Fangwatch Fort, em Deadlands. A população em sua maioria via os membros dessa guild como heróis, porém havia aqueles que os amaldiçoavam, pois achavam que seria melhor não provocar o mal.
Um certo dia chegou à capital um membro da Slayer’s Guild ferido em combate, seu nome era Larion Elveno. Ainda fraco pela perda de sangue decorrente dos ferimentos, ele murmurava sobre um vampiro incomum, que possuía um olhar quase humano. Larion contou que após abatê-lo encontrou em seus restos um livro escrito no que parecia ter o padrão da linguagem humana, porém altamente danificado em decorrência da batalha.
Após dois anos de esforços, os estudiosos conseguiram uma tradução quase que completa do livro encontrado por Larion. Aparentemente se tratava de uma diário, no qual foi anotado uma lista de ingredientes. Os estudiosos relatavam que conforme avançavam na tradução do diário, os ingredientes se tornavam cada vez mais complexos, alguns desconhecidos pela raça humana. Além disso, a forma de descrever e a própria escrita se tornavam cada vez mais frias e técnicas e menos humana. É como se o autor fosse ao poucos possuído por outra personalidade.
Alquimistas realizaram experimentos utilizando a lista de ingredientes em diferentes concentrações, após muitas tentativas falhas, finalmente chegaram a um resultado. Um líquido vermelho como sangue, mas sem cheiro de sangue e sim um cheiro muito agradável.
Muitos anos depois, um estudioso ancião solicitou o livro para sua pesquisa. Ele acidentalmente deixou cair o livro de sua bancada, resultando no desprendimento da capa interna.O estudioso se abaixou para pegar o livro quando viu uma pequena inscrição no local do destacamento, estava escrito "Propriedade de Thomas Crowen". Ainda hoje, os artistas de rua cantam a história do homem que quis ser o maior herbalista e conseguiu, mas à custa da própria vida.
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"Tudo Depende Do Seu Ponto De Vista" ~ Arbra
A Falha:

Criaturas a muito tempo esquecidas, trancadas em uma falha, congeladas no fundo de uma das maiores montanhas de ravendawn, elas eram poderosas e seguiam suas presas até o fim, porém foram esquecidas após o seu sumiço a muitos milênios atrás....

Dia 1:
Um pesquisador e aventureiro que buscavam nessas montanhas gélidas por resquícios do passado congelados, escavava e usava sua magia de fogo para derreter o gelo ao redor, na esperança de obter novas amostras de pesquisa, depois de dias explorando a região e estudando novas magias, ele se deparou com uma estranha criatura, ela era humanoide porém sua pele era feita de madeira e folhas vermelhas, isso o deixou intrigado então a levou para seu laboratório....

Dia 2:
a pesquisa anda lenta, mais descobri que essa criatura ainda está viva em um modo de hibernação eu acredito....

Dia 3:
hoje não descobri nada, mais o rei me mandou fundos e uma equipe...

Dia 4:
eu e minha equipe descobrimos que é uma especie de humanoide baseado em vida vegetal, não sabemos se é inteligente....

Dia 5:

Dia 6:

Dia 7:
o-o que libertamos no mundo? em sua composição há sangue de diversas criaturas, inclusive algumas extintas misteriosamente...

dia 10:
eu escrevo isso para caso alguém encontre, depois de dias correndo finalmente cheguei ao meu fim, um beco sem saída, a criatura que trouxemos é totalmente hostil, sua principal fonte de alimento é sangue, porém descobrimos que sua fraqueza a fogo é alta, temos que voltar para aquelas montanhas e exterminar cada uma delas que estiverem lá, espero que alguém encontre isso antes que seja tarde demais....

theodore e seu grupo de aventureiros:
o que é isso? o rei nos mandou para investigar a falta de resposta mais quem poderia imaginar que estão todos mortos.
Guerreiro: venham aqui e olhem esse corpo, tem um diário.

após lerem o diário julgaram a criatura perigoso e então foram atrás dela.

seguindo o rastro de sangue, chegaram em uma vila, grande porém silenciosa.

Guerreiro: essa vila não é pequena, e está somente ao entardecer por quê não achamos ninguém?
o mago aponta tremendo para uma casa
O grupo então vê sangue em volta de uma casa, e pedaços humanos espalhados, com medo eles seguem enfrente, theodore toma a frente e entra na casa porém antes mesmo que percebesse é alvejado na cabeça por uma estaca de madeira afiada, a criatura então solta uma gargalhada assustando o mago e o guerreiro que correm temendo por suas vidas, e em busca de reforços...

porém a criatura não iria deixar eles fazerem isso facilmente, em uma explosão de velocidade correu atrás deles, e perfurou a barriga do mago e pulou em cima do guerreiro, ele tentou se defender o máximo que podia, mas a criatura depois de se alimentar da vitalidade de suas vitimas era forte demais para ele, a criatura transformou sua mão em algo pontudo e afiado e perfurou o escudo indo direto em seu coração, e o decapitando logo após isso, esquecendo do mago ele começou a se alimentar da força vital do guerreiro, o mago aproveitando a situação curou parte de seus ferimentos graves com uma magia poderosa de cura e saiu correndo até a vila mais próxima, porém não havia curado todos seus ferimentos, ao chegar no portão caiu na frente de dois guardas e contou sua história e pediu para que a passassem ao rei, logo após isso a vida se esvaiu pouco a pouco de seus olhos e caiu no chão ensaguentado e afogado pelo próprio sangue...

O Rei investigou, porém mesmo décadas após o ocorrido não conseguiu rastrear a criatura para mata-la, dizem as lendas que ele ainda tenta mandar grupos de aventureiros em missões secretas para acha-la, dizem também que o destino deles é sempre o mesmo, somem misteriosamente... não se sabe ao certo por onde ela nada, mas sabe-se que até hoje ela assombra as terras de ravendawn...

filho: to com medo mãe...
a mae abraça o filho e diz:
mae: ta tudo bem não tem como essas histórias serem reais agora vá dormir...

De repente o garoto arregala os olhos e sob a luz de um trovão uma criatura da um sorriso em sua janela, escorrendo sangue sua boca...

Ou será que não?


New member
Marshmallows no cemitério Glademire, Histórias do beberão Somer.

Dentro de um bar o bêbado Somer conta uma uma história e todos riem por que ninguém acredita no que ele diz.
Tudo começou no dia 30 de outubro véspera de halloween, quando seus filhos queriam marshmallow e guloseimas, porém o Somer não tinha muita habilidade com doces e seus filhos amavam os quitutes da Daisy, seus marshmallow são fantásticos diziam as crianças com água na boca. Então Somer decidiu seguir viagem para comprar os doces para comemorar o halloween, a viagem era longa de Ravencrest a Margrove, chegando no vilarejo o Somer conversou com Daisy e comprou os marshmallow e outras guloseimas, seguiu viagem novamente para Ravencrest. No meio do caminho em Glademire do Norte onde fica um cemitério, viu que o lugar estava com uma névoa densa, o que o fez sentir arrepios. Lugar vigiado por Maribel, contudo ela não estava lá, Somer não ligou e continuado sua viagem, uma névoa ficou mais densa e ele fala um barulho e passos ... bummm. Gritos e vozes estranhas.
Logo a frente ele não acreditou um esqueleto, correu e caiu em uma tumba, vozes, gritos, olhou pra cima, vários outros esqueletos, ele correu pediu socorro. Seus marshmallows caíram no chão, acharam uma outra tumba e se escondeu nela. O tempo passado e ele não acreditou, como criaturas pegaram seus marshmallows e entregou para um esqueleto de aspecto e núcleos diferentes, parecia um mago (xamã), ele criou coragem e os seguiu em uma caverna, vários pisos a baixo onde finalmente essas criaturas pararam em uma espécie de sala de ocultismo, nisso o esqueleto comeu um dos marshmallows e fez um algum esquisito provavelmente não gostou do sabor, pegou o outro marshmallow e utilizou suas magias fazendo os doces criarem vida com olhos boca e bem maiores. Somer voltou apavorado para ravencrast contou a todos sua história, muitos riram, outros falam que ele está louco, ele perguntou. E Maribel? Todos disseram que ela continua no cemitério, como vigia. Sempre que chega o halloween seus amigos Rax e Xaveria, pedem para o Somer conta essa história e todos dão risadas, mas ...
O que se encontra nas profundezas do cemitério? Será que tem marshmallow com os olhos e bocas? E Maribel? Na noite de halloween onde estava uma vigia? Será que foi uma imaginação de Somer? Apenas corajosos guerreiros para resolver esse enigma e provar se é verdade ou apenas imaginações de Somer?
Somer bêbado grita e sempre fala que oferece uma bela recompensa para aqueles que provar que sua história e verdadeira e resolver esse enigma.
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New member
"What a strange man" said my dad.
We both live in the woods since mother passed away 4 months ago, such a strange place to continue with his butchery business. Our only customer is a man, fat, old and ugly. The sunburn make it explicit how hard is to work at a pig farm. Every now and then he walk hardly through the door with a bloody mess of slaughtered pig inside a bag or whatever manner he get to carry those "grown to eat little fellas" like he said once. I get kinda ashamed, every time he came to the shop, with pig to separate limb by limb with my pops help, one random child, maybe son of him, maybe a relative, in tears say goodbye for what once was a pet to the family "bye - says the child moments before falling in tears and crying so much that nobody can tell what he was really saying". And every time my dad try to comfort the boy or girl with a history of the time he was a little boy himself and had a lil' wolf cub whose died from sickness "I only ceased my tears when my old man teached me how to hunt, then i got familiarized with the cicle of life and..." you know, those dad tales with a moral in the end. "That's not the same" that's the only ever answer he gets. Time passes, and every month the man came with a different son or whatever those kids are, and everyday the same events occur. "Well, i acknowledge something about you, sir. You definitely got a big family, and a bigger pig farm" said pops while grappling the squealing pig try to escape from his arms. This time, the girl that accompany her dad is not crying, so i managed to begin a chat, since i'm dying of boredom. "How are the things? Do your bros and sis are keeping up fine this winter?" and so we began one hell of monotonous and cliche chitchat "Can you save my brother?" said the child with a preucupated tone. Right before i ask her from where she came with that question, pops and the man managed to kill the pig with a hammer blown in the head, and right after that, the girl started crying like every brother and sister of hers that visited the shop, but i never had seen it from the beginning. "Why you did it, why you killed him? You said we came here to cure his disease, you monster, you promised to cure our mom as well". Well, i think its normal for children treat livestock as pets or fam, since they're ingenuous. At least i can kill my boredom too, gotta chop the pig limbs and separate the consumable from the thrown away parts. Like ever, we keep some for feast and discount in price. "I'll be here early in the morning, i got a reunion at dawn at home, so i need fresh meat for tomorrow." Said the man while driven away from the shop. As he said, early that day he appeared with another living piglet ready to get transformed into feast. but, fortunately, no kid this time "Don't mind the squeals, i think they know they're grown that way to fill our belly's" said the man. Today is my turn to give the death blown to the creature, and cut limb by limb as well, since i gotta practice the family forever costumes. I stared into the piglet eyes, and something weird happened. I sensed some familiarity with the squealing little fella, like something deep in that animal eyes stared back. "Is harder when we get attached before" said the man. Now, covered in blood from the butchery job, i got paid little than ever "What the meaning of that quantity? I believe it isn't based on my skills at butchery, sorry sir but i just don't understand the underpay of today's product". Yes, i got kinda angry, since inst costume to work that early in the day. "Well, you somewhat gave hope to her yesterday, and it kinda spoils the meat. And i'm not gonna pay by something that's your fault". Said the man, ruder than ever as he fade away in the morning mist. "What a strange man" said my dad.
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