Call of The Shaman King (1 Viewer)


Really British
Progression Team

The Ondera knew what he had to do. The spirits would guide him. The spirits would guide them.

Throughout the spirit world, the safest passage Ingonyama could think of, a summarise would be sent. Any and all shaman wishing to help save the world and aid in defeating Foli’s forces were to come to the island of Maluele to discuss a plan. Not matter what tribe. Not matter what people. All would be granted safe passage to the land of the Leonin.


fresh heckers!!
Alone and sat in deep meditation, Ivar sculpted his mind and body alike in what would be harmony, if only he could manage it. Only this time he was interrupted by an otherworldly, incoherent flicker and rumble. No need to open his eyes, for he saw it already: sat upon a cold, dark lake stretching as far as the horizon would allow it he need only to gaze upwards to reveal the mass of fire and twisting red, an incandescent cloud.
He tried to speak, but his mouth, agape, released no sign of communication, and himself was tied down by red, crimson wires that held him immobile. An incoherent tear in the air burst forwards, in many sounds and roars and vibrations of no correlation possibly imaginable. Yet for an instant, Ivar knew what was to be done, and as quickly as the vision came it suddenly disappeared.

"Well, gotta see Bran fer this..."


Captain Chromosome
On the Mountain Tall...


The winds wailed, terrified of what was soon to come. Seagulls and birds had been flying low, huddled in their nests despite the dryness of the air. Beasts refused, obstinately, to come out of their pens and even the schools of fish that scoured the fertile Ghastly Seas of Aedelwynn would not dare show their scales. The signs were there, and Bran had been listening carefully, his eyes closed, to each dissonance in the Song. The world felt its imbalance and screamed in rage in response. A bot fly, the insolent vermin, tried to rise up the mountain's slopes and strike his cheek. Fáinleog bit down onto it, and fried it to death.

Without the birds as pest control, the cattle would grow maggots... And the chain would then start tumbling as fast as a waterfall, bringing down the rest of the peninsula with it. Bran heard the echo of a cry amidst the screaming. More so a call, a confident one, one attuned with the world just like he. So the elf stood up, concerned about the symbols and predictions he had noticed. The bot fly being so high up Dunn Hain should not have been possible... Not if the birds had been out. It was time to make a move. Bran packed his affairs and headed down the snowy slopes to meet with his brother.

There they confirmed the premonitions and the call for help, and headed towards the docks where a hundred men manned the Na Buth, and sailed south. On the way, they stopped on the shores of the new Evig'kulde settlement and called upon their banner men to join the Stòr on board. Armed with a contingent of fifty Gallo-glaigh, a hundred Annwynn sailors and warriors, and three of the most powerful Stòr in the north, the seas split before An Morrigna's vessel. Skarsgard, Croi Croga, Kerlahad and Brannissil speared across the Ghastly Seas, around the world with the spirits bolstering their sails.

The shaman king called.
The Ard Rì answered.

Will make prettier when I'm not coding
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Not!Syrien Shaman
Reina took note of this, having already been planning to visit soon anyway. So it merely gave her another reason to visit the Luk'Mali in the immediate future. She wanted to pay Ons'Kaish a visit to follow up on their conversation at her duel with Vultog yet. So the syrien prepared for a trip far south in the next few septs
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Carsandra, now in the Reiklands, recognized faintly the faint tug of the calling. She dipped her head into the nearby fountain, opening her eyes to see a faint glimmer of a message. She pulled her head out of the water once the message was over, shaking her head and sighing. She started preparing for the long trip to the island.
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sarcasm and skin problems
Newcomer Training Team
Safiyya snored quietly in the hammock she had set up within the ruins of the old city. The dry heat of the desert was exhausting, interrupted by the occasional albeit extremely pleasant breeze from the oasis.

"Safiyya. Safiyyya! Wake up, dear." a voice called. "It's time to wake up."

"I'm awake! I'm awake, what- what is it?!" the tired scout demanded, looking around with bleary eyes. A fiery figure sat on the desk across from her, a faintly critical look in her eyes.

"The Ondera Ingyonama of the Luk'mali tribe would request that all shaman visit the island of Maluele as soon as possible, dear." the spirit replied calmly.

"Where the hell is Maluele? I just met the Ondera a day ago!" Saf grumbled, stumbling out of her hammock.

"Maluele is west of Noioinamali. You should be able to find transport from one island to another. It seemed important, by the tone of the message."

Saf pinched her nosebridge, shutting her eyes a moment. When she opened them, she was still in her hammock, having not even gotten out of bed. A dream?

"Stop doing that, Eketana!" she shouted to the empty room. The faintest laugh could be heard...
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aethier freestyle champion
Team Leader
Lore Team
Event Team
Mortals are all the same. the mask would hum to Adoeak as he laid with his legs crossed.

"How do you figure?"

The Divines come and they lay their pillage. You weep, you pray, and then you perish.

"A cycle, then." he bit his nail.

Yes. You feed, you hunger, and then your eyes grow too big. You perish.

"So why are you telling me this? Don't you not care for my life?"

I have an invested interest in your energy.

"Yeah, you have a crush on me is what you have."

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