The fires raged on unchecked or hindered by the last alliance. The black, acrid smoke filled the air with the smells of burning flesh and beast alike. Bodies and equipment, long deserted, lay as far as the eye could see; though with the smoke, little could be seen. What failing crimson light Shawn through the darkness, only accented the carnage below.
The last alliance stood, and waited for the onslaught they knew would come, the Firebreathers would be on time. Grim, soot black faces, who had seen the horrors of brother soldiers burned alive in combat, stared bleakly across the burning plain.
Their great helmets forged in an age of craftsmanship unparalleled since; their armors forged from the very beasts they now desperately tried to destroy; their swords where the strongest and sharpest weapons all the forges of tibia could produce; their newest shield, the Great Shield was by far the marvel of the human engineering and dwarfish smithing. Still the hammers molded the war gear in deep forges where anvil clank was as fierce as the battle afar.
No man would see peace, now while Firebreather raged across the lands, scorching all they could. Those brave few who tried to stem their increasing advances fell quickly to the dragon hoards, now only this last bastion of hope survived.
Screeching of fire beast was the first sign that they had come to finish their work. Great scale clad beasts, with fire hot enough to melt the most well forged of items, with sounds deafening and power unyielding, flying across the landscape with one purpose - to kill.
With swords raised high, the last alliance engaged the fiery onslaught. They all knew that this was their last stand, their final chance at victory, even as dim as it was.
The incinerating fire and screams of death filled the air as man and beast fought to the bitter end. Dragon lords, fiercest of the dragons destroyed all who opposed them, sending each hero to a fiery death.
Great Shields took the blows of beast and cracked, sending showers of sharp wood and twisted scale flying across the field.
The battle raged on but it was clear, as it was from the start, that humanity would not be the victor. Many perished as the dragons advanced, the fires burning, and burning unquenched as spirit cracked beneath the weight of despair.
Only god could save humanity now, but where was he? Human strength was no match for Firebreather and the world crumbled beneath the war torn soil, scorched and bloodied.
Darkness consumed the land, swallowing all in its path. The clash of Firebreather and man was only one of the final battles that led to tibia’s downfall. Those battles would be forever known in ledged as "The Great War."
All that exists of the clash of Firebreather and man are the Great Shields. The few that survive are testaments to last struggles of man before tibias decimation. Some claim to hear screams emanating from the shields - seaming to be the final screams of their last holders, captured in time for all eternity.
The dragons of today are scant replicas of their ancestors of old, although Firebeasts still instill fear into the harts of many to this day.
I had a craving for a nice cold beer as most dwarfs of my ageing generation do, and decided to go to Frodo’s pub for a good, imported Kazordoonian mug (not as good as the ones back home but when you travel a lot you tend to not get so picky). Thais was always a busy town, and its pubs where no different; many adventurers from the farthest corners of the realm gathered here to unwind after harrowing adventures.
A quick glance around the room relieved an open spot by the fireplace, a great spot for any dwarf to relax. Sitting down and signaling Frodo to service me I caught snippets of the various tales being reenacted in the room. One paladin, (who looked to have had a few more then the rest of his companions) was reenacting what appeared to be a grand battle with a dragon. His companions roared with laughter and pounded on the table as he got up and mock shot his bow to show how he had slayed the mighty beast, scaring a waitress half to death. In the far corner of the pub a group of druids where talking about the prices of healing runes and their displeasure of having no intervention from the king to regulate prices. In the middle some knights where having drinking competitions and showed off their scares they had earned from various sorties. It was a lively night indeed.
Frodo at last arrived with my beer and I asked for news. Nothing of interest was said, only that a guild war was being waged into its second month and the troll raids had increased – both of which where talked about constantly on the streets. None of the worries of the outside penetrated the brick walls of this fine establishment.
While enjoying the refreshing first sip I noticed a huddle of sorcerers in a corner, they where talking in hushed tones but for the dwarven ear, it was easy to pick up.
“What are we going to do with this?” spoke the gruff man in the middle.
“I think we should sell it, I’m no knight” the more respected one on the end spoke, looking around to see if anyone was watching. I quickly raised my mug to hide my interest.
“Why sell such an item?” the skinny one on end questioned. “The gods didn’t send such an item to us to sell, with such power who knows what we can accomplish.”
“I don’t think it will be useful on our adventures, and we always are in need of money” the respected one spoke. “Have you seen the price of fluids and runes these days? I can’t even sell my backpack of sudden deaths for a decent price!” embarrassed by his angry out burst he softly spoke “if anyone knew we where using such an item don’t you think it might jeopardize our future? Look at the latest reports on the number of deserters and bandits, both are on the rise. Who knows what will happen when someone wants that sword and has their assassins kill for it?”
“Humph, it’s not fair” grumbled the gruff man.
“But it is fair” the skinny one spoke. “We have been gifted by the gods and should sell it for gold and decent sets of equipment, you know our equipments getting warn as it is. As a sword it won’t benefit any of us, you have the final say though Hagbard.”
The respected man called Hagbard rubbed his brow and spoke as if the weight of the very future was trust upon him. “We need this money too badly; I will sell the sword by secret bid to attract as little attention as possible.”
“So you will sell your precious toothpick eh” the gruff man sneered.
As they got up, I realized that I hadn’t lowered my mug since I had raised it in deception and now took the opportunity to take another swallow. I wondered what weapon they where talking about and thought it would probably be some sword of valor or some other priceless sword. But what I saw next would quickly change that assumption. Hagbard let his cloak slip just enough to flash the deadly steel. I blinked in surprise and nearly lost my mug, could that be the Cyclopsmania Sword? Impossible! That sword was lost ages ago in the fight of Cyclops and Blog. A sword that even the gods could not locate could be a valuable sword indeed, especially one second only to the Excalibug in power and might. With a sword nicknamed the “god slayer” by many mortals, wouldn’t it be too much to wield?
As the 3 passed by my table I felt a wave of evil go with them, and knew right away that if the legends where true, then the sword’s destiny would be also. Nothing good would become of its possessor or its finders…
The next day a posting was placed on the thais bulletin board that read the latest sales and sure enough under the code name “Toothpick” the mighty sword was placed for action.
Shaking my head I muttered to myself and walked away, foolish mortals who try to wield a sword meant for neither man, nor god…
I watched from my window as the great sword was sold. a dark wanderer who looked more like a paladin then a knight bought the sword for 5 million of his best cash and items - a worth sum by any standards.
I thought the weapon should have been sold much higher but perhaps the god fearing men didn’t want to take the chance. To no surprise, the swords cursed grip took its first victim and hagbard's haste turned to be another’s profit. The weapon - with much controversy - was placed for biding once again though without the code name of before.
The greatest of traders, more commonly known as alex, was selling the weapon for his friend, the dark wanderer. He took the controversy but soon the highest price was named and the sword auction closed.
Being a dwarf, I had a good concept of money as my fathers before me worked in the mines, gaining gems and gold. When the sum went to 6.5million I thought that this would be a great sale for both. A gut instinct told me that this deal would not be as strait forward as I had thought, and indeed I found out why.
I returned to my home after a quick supply check and money counting only to see that a friend was impatiently waiting on my door step. The words he said that day would stay with me for ages to come.
"karr," he bellowed out with notable distress. "Come quick, recca has been thieved, he has lost 6.5million gold!"
it took a moment to clue in to what he was saying and then I remembered the conversation I had with recca that he wanted that sword.
The thieving was the topic of the day, everyone knew and everyone wanted to state their piece. I was angry but not surprised at such and action, 6.5million is too much to risk lightly. It was then that I realized that not only recca had been thieved but its original owner siobkerry, the dark wanderer, had as well. By thieving the sword alex had destroyed his friendship, created world enimies and fulfilled the next piece of the prophecy - the sword had now struck siobkerry and alex.
I now write this in great haste as the battles still thrive, the sword that was not meant to exist has fallen upon the world. Nostradamus Tibius once recalled such a sign that if the god slayer should return upon the world, that it would mean the end times must be near.
For a simple dwarf like me that was a great realization. I knew it would be soon, but to be this soon was more then I could bear. So I returned to the pub where it all began, and drank, drowning the ancient prophecies of doom behind a mug of the best kazordoon import.
The evil had claimed 3 lives, corrupted 3 people and its path of destruction wouldn’t end there. It would not be long before it stuck again, the power of greed and the foolishness of man had brought the end times of ledged into the frighteningly reality of today...
As seen in (TibiaNews on 27/08/2004)
Everyday people around the Tibian world talk to each other, exchanging messages. Some of these are hard to understand, often with shortened pronunciation or in a different dialect altogether. Yet over the years a new language has started to develop, created not with the idea to save time or to look good in front of other people but more out of the accidental miss use and miss spelling of proper English.
Karrism was first started by me, Karr Chaos way back when I first entered this relm. My eager speech was commonly doted with grammatical errors and spelling misprints. After the community got to know me they adopted my style of speech, accepting it as part of everyday life. Many even started to use - rather my style became addictive – on people, mostly those who commonly associated with me.
As more people started speaking my language, a need for translators was created and soon many people where in the business of turning simple Karrism into viable English. Where normal people would listen to my speech and become lost, translators would step in and clear up the confusion.
Now a day the language has taken Tibia by storm, being spoken by many respected people and poppers alike. Entire cults now worship the dialect, most notably the Nightmare Knights of Antica, where there is a group called Follower of Karrism. Many sources report that this group is responsible for the rapid spread of the dialect.
What is Karrism you ask, unfamiliar with the common signs of Karrism? Well look no farther!
One of the most predominate signs of Karrism is the constant change of spelling of words ending in ing. Some common examples of these are going and things, turned into goign thigns. Other letters often become switched around so ing is not the only ending or wording that is changed, keep an open eye and you will spot more!
Another common sign is when entire sentences seam to form into each word. Some examples of this are “I went to the park” becoming “iwent to thepark.” Any sentence can be improperly spaced, its knowing which Karrism is and which is simple error that shall determine the mark of a true knowing Karrism expert.
Sometimes entire words are miss-spelled completely, obscuring their meaning entirely. The best example of this is “ejre ste upi/,” in English “where are you?” this is often the hardest type of karrism to define and a definite clear sign that Karrism has taken full hold of the persons vocabulary.
Spacing can also play a large role in determining Karrism, such as “I went to the bank,” becoming “I wen tto the bank.” Another good example is “who are you?” becoming “whoa rey ou?” this example shows how multiple words can have mixed letters.
The complexity of this language can really be seen when entire sentences are muddled and jumbled in karrism, the worst case reported so far was this sentence: “qjatt gw hss; jz yo8gn om>”
This fad is only going to become more popular as the years go on; Karrism is defiantly here to stay! When you see someone speaking steamily gibberish, stop and think if it’s Karrism or another new language, the answer might surprise you.
A spark sprang from the darkness, illuminating the path ahead;
Its quick burst of life revitalizing, sending thoughts racing to my head;
An image, a voice, a thought; all melding into one sentence said;
All paths leading into one; thoughts of you while I lay in bed.
My ships have docked, their sailing done forever;
The mission they completed was to find my lover;
And thought this route was both crazy and clever;
I know that now I wont need to sail again; no; never.
Long hours I spent to find the one I need, the one to complete me totally;
Many years did I search to find the one who would keep me soberly;
But now that the search is done, the mission over, no losing technicality;
Every piece is lined up, in perfect sync, all the ducks in a row – orderly.
Three words echo in my mind; “I love you;”
Two days of bliss I’ve had; yesterday and today;
One demand I have to make; to see you;
No regrets, only desire; to be close to you.
Thanks I whisper into the wind, fate has decided to pay back my over payments;
I sweat when I think of the times ahead, the our day looms closer, young love hence;
But I know that no mater where we are, everything will stay together and make sense;
Along as I am with you, cuddled closely to your warm soft skin, I will have no laments.
Here; now; forever; always; by your side,
A heart beat away, a thought beyond the veil,
I will be waiting for your strong embrace,
Illuminated by the spark we both share.
Burn away everything and only love will remain;
It’s teasing jests, daring you to even think to refrain.
Time had passed and days had gone, giving way to new realities, to new possibilities. In the garden of eden stood a tree, a special tree whose fruit was forbidden by all to eat. But yet, by knowing its illicit nature, only made the allure all the more tempting. Though he had promised to himself and to others that he would not pluck the fruit, he found himself consumed by the possibilities it could unlock, an almost lust filled desire for the knowledge it contained.
He was a moral man, a man with integrity and worth, who valued his rules and guidelines with an almost fanatical worship. But yet the fruit danced on the outside his mind, always there in the background, teasing to be tried out and explored. Perhaps it was because he was mortal that one day he decided he wanted to have that which he could not have - the forbidden fruit.
He inched closer to that tree, feigning innocence and indifference. Slowly he crossed the barriers he had set for himself, the limitations he did not wish to cross. It was almost too easy to break trust with himself, and worst, it gave him a sense of giddish glee, the kind you only get when you are doing something you shouldnt and getting away with it.
Almost too soon he was up the tree, hanging from a limb, an almost lustful glare painted across his face. His hand grasped the trees fruit, feeling its texture, feeling its emotion, feeling its beating will. A thought struck him, paralyzing him to mute silence, a frozen tableau.
Guilt, fear, and reality pierced through him, crashing through the core of his mind, reviling that the path he was taking was damning and damaging to himself and to others. He had given his word, both to himself and to others and yet here he was breaking it for the simple pleasure to know what it would be like to taste this unknown fruit, to have a taste of what might have been in another time or place.
But he wanted the fruit anyway, he wanted everything for himself, greedily succumbing to the desires that raged through his body. His will was fighting a loosing battle, wanting what it did not have, craving the passion that radiated from the fruit. Almost impossibly, it was the fruit who halted the mans actions.
The fruit whispered in his mind "I'am the fruit, and I know you desire me, just as much as I desire you. But we both have our morals and responsibilities, bound by our own rules and promises. Both of us where given sincere trust, and both of us do not wish to break it, though our bodies and senses tell us differently; though our minds scream at the possibilities. We both wish to break free from the world, to explore paths that we have been unable to walk, but we both know that once we cross through that portal, the way back is sealed forever. We both know that this cannot be, or rather it can be but not in this time or place."
A pause settled over the garden, as if the garden itself had stopped everything it was doing to analyze the crucible unfolding in the branches of the forbidden tree. The silence was broken an audible release of breath. "So," the man spoke, trailing off in thought before the words came to him. "So let us keep what we have and never breach the trust we have gained. Let us use our connection to fulfill that which we do not have - for a moment - but never break the binds that firmly tie us to our own realities. in another time, in another instant, in another path, this could be reality, but not yet; not now."
A smile split his face as he let go of the fruit, new words of wisdom forming on his tongue. "Everyone is tempted to touch the forbidden fruit, everyone will push themselves to the apex of breaking their will when doing so, but greater are those who can stop themselves and walk away then those who taste that forbidden fruit. the fruit is not there to consume your mind, but there to expand it and teach it the values it holds dear."
The man learned a valuable lesson that day, he learned that though he was free, he still must bind himself with limitations, to surround and define himself with his beliefs and morals, and yet expand himself to understand that which he does not know, through faith of being.
Last night I was the man who climbed the forbidden tree, I was the man who grasped the fruit I should not of been seeking, and yet I was the man who was able to walk away without anymore then a brief touch of that which I could not have. In the end, I am the man who was able to grow from it, and not the man who was consumed and destroyed by it, and for that I'm grateful for the chance I was allured to take.