Morrith rose to his feet. Before him the body of his mother lay on an old wooden bed, the straw mattress stained with blood and bile until it was more brown than yellow. The smell in the room was near overpowering, and Morrith wrinkled his nose at it. His eyes looked slowly around the room, taking in the pristine condition of everything, even the lack of dust on the dresser. He crossed the room and stepped out into the living room of his parents small stone home. Compared to the bedroom it looked like someone had thrown an explosive alchemical mix. The wooden dining table was overturned and blackened with what looked like soot, but the table itself was oddly unburned. On the stone oven a skillet sat, filled with a black sludge that had once been food. A horse whinnied outside, more a shriek than Morrith had ever heard a horse make, and he sprinted to the door, kicking it open and stepping out into the quickly darkening streets. His sword near leapt into his hand as he watched his horse drug to the ground, zombies scrambling over each other for a taste of it’s warm flesh.
I made my way as quickly as I could to the gates of the city. The undead wandered the streets but it was a small matter to stay in the shadows and remain undetected. Finally I could see the massive front gates of Mathosia, gates I had heard about in stories since I was a boy. They were broken and crumbling, guarded by only two men, a Mathosian and a Dwarf, neither of which looked like they were fighters. Suddenly the very earth shook, dropping me to a knee as a bolder slammed into the stone wall of the city only a block away, sending massive stones showering down into the streets.
I slipped into an alley running perpendicular to the main thoroughfare, stepping from shadow to shadow until I came to a small street with a large contingent of undead shuffling about looking for their next meal. Glancing around I remember a smile spreading across my face when I saw the buildings around me. A large inn stood both on my side, and across the street. I checked the handle and the door swung open silently, so I stepped in and stopped, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness while listening for anything that would give away a potential problem. After a few moments of hearing nothing I quickly crept over to the stairs and ascended to the second floor. I made my way up the staircase, the wooden beams creaking softly underfoot, until I came to an open door. It was a small room, sparsely furnished with a straw mattress and a chamber pot. Through the open window I could see the inn across the street, and the window that lined up with this one. Taking a deep breath I suddenly burst into the room with a speed I rarely had need of. I leapt, planted a foot on the windowsill and flew out into the air between the two inns. The glass paned window rushed up at me, and a second before I hit it and alerted the entire street to my presence, my body was torn apart and I felt myself propelled through the glass, an odd feeling that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
I came back into the real world and fell into a roll in the small room. I stopped by planting my foot hard on the floor and listened for any noises. A scream pierced the air from the floor below, as if someone was being butchered. I crept to the door and opened it, careful to push up on the handle, lifting the entire thing the tiniest bit, but enough to prevent the hinges from squeaking. The hallway was dark, lit only by the light escaping from the first floor. The scream echoed through the building once more and I felt myself start walking toward the stairs. I stalked down them as quietly as I could and came out onto the first floor in a large reception room. It was destroyed, one of the walls having collapsed and taken part of the second floor with it. In the middle of the room was the source of the screaming, a skeleton staring at it’s bony hands.
The salt air swept over the docks as Morrith stepped off the boat. The hustle of daily life immediately brought him back to his childhood, one spent fishing with his father in the woods near out home. It wasn’t far from New Haven, a small settlement with a stone keep, an alchemist, a few farms and his fathers woodworking shop. He specialized in musical instruments, and his mother would play him a lute to sleep. That was fifteen years ago now, and Morrith hadn’t been back since he was sent to Britain for Paladin training. Now done with formal training, all that was left was for Morrith to go out into the world and make his own way.
This post is to organize my stories so that you can read them easily in the order in which they were posted.
Check out the stories link at the top of the page to see some of my past stories, short though they may be. Also, feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think, if you like the stories or hate them.
Introducing Of Blood And Bone, a new series I’ll be starting alongside ‘Wild’ Erp. While Erp will be continuing for a long time, Of Blood And Bone will most likely only be a very short lived, quick to finish story. This one is set in the world of Ultima Online, a game I remember very fondly. There were a lot of things you could do in that game to role play, including building a camp.
Since I’ve been back the people have been great. I had someone take two hours out of their day to show me around and teach me all about the new changes. I’m in a great guild, and very surprised to be liking the game as much as I am after all this time.
Morrith is the hero of this tale, and he’s a noble born paladin returning to his home, a village just outside New Haven. That’s all you get tonight, but look for episode 1 up tomorrow.
She told me her name was Fayne Doran, a blind seer who had been tasked by the vigil to bring the Ascended up to speed. I wasn’t wrong, I had been killed, and though I have never been a holy man, indeed I’ve done terrible things, the gods saw fit to bring me back to life. It wasn’t for piety that they chose me, but for power. Power I had, though I felt weaker than I had been, as though all the power had drained from my body with my blood when I died.
My name is Erp. It used to stand for Ruck Erpine, of the Hammerknell Erpines. Now days it just stands for Erp. I’ve decided to keep this journal in the hopes that it will help me understand everything that’s happened to me recently, and to provide truth to combat the lies that have been told about me. I’m getting ahead of myself, why don’t I start from the beginning?
Welcome to Manifest Tale! Tune in soon for a new story set in the world of Rift. As a warning this site will be massively picture heavy. For that reason I will put a break in each post after the main image. If you just can’t wait, then click the Stories link near the top of the page and check out some of my older stories. Here is a preview of my newest character:
Meet “Wild” Erp