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Sunday, May 13th 2012, 1:16pm

too many ppl in here
but only use prv[somebody] can use chinese in game


Sunday, May 13th 2012, 1:18pm

Zircon [9] , where u come from

want to see u in game

Good Lucky everyday


Saturday, September 1st 2012, 2:35pm

顶一下子哦啊哈 , giza请说中文~~


Sunday, October 7th 2012, 3:21pm



Friday, October 26th 2012, 3:14pm

啊,我發在Off topic的帖子沒了,內容是神秘知識的文本,可惜了可惜了,記得是‘奇怪的自殺遺書’


Thursday, November 1st 2012, 10:31am

You have come across the page of a historical book called the "Chronicles of Bygone Days". Listen carefully to what I am going to tell you, warrior.

Ever since the Zorbs arrived in the colonies from unknown lands, Magmars have shown a keen interest in them. The beasts possessed unbelievable strength, great stamina and speed and were very intelligent. Why waste such a beast, if it could be harnessed for the good of all magmarkind?! Tempted by such a thought, the inhabitants of Khair made several attempts to tame and domesticate the beasts, but failed every time. Neither lash, nor trap, neither tasty morsels, nor taking their young worked ? it was impossible to snare them. Consequently, Magmars gave up on such hopes and left the beasts in peace for several long decades?Until, one day, a profound monk, dressed in an unusual, blinding-white heavy armour, appeared at the gates of Dartrong. Standing there, he sullenly examined the crowd that had gathered and then demanded to be taken to the Elder. Soon after, messengers were dispatched across the whole of Khair, offering the most able and experienced hunters a chance to take part in a new effort to tame the Zorbs. The stranger proposed a strange deal to the Magmars: he would help them tame the strongest and most experienced beasts in front of the entire herd, in order to demonstrate Magmar superiority. He explained that any herd rejects a leader when it witnesses it lose its power or suffer defeat in battle, and then selects a new one, more often than not the one who won the battle.
In exchange for his help, the monk demanded the souls of the continent's 12 best fighters. Some took his words for a joke, some offered to string him from the nearest gallows, but someone else stepped forward, offering his soul as payment. And that night, 12 of the strongest and most courageous Magmars disappeared. According to the Elder, they did so of their own free volition, in the name of their people, considering it no less honourable a death than a heroic death in battle. From that moment on, the deal was sealed.
The best hunters were collected from across the continent and skilled blacksmiths were ordered to prepare new weapons and armour. Everything was got ready for the forthcoming campaign. Magmars, remembering the multitude of past failure, did not pin much hope on the stranger and arriving at the hunt location, they set tens of traps to convince themselves of success. The monk merely smiled and said nothing. Everyone hid and began to wait. Soon, a huge herd appeared from the forest. The leader was obvious instantly, striding ahead of the herd. As he walked, powerful muscles rolled under his tough hide, his feet fell heavily, kicking up clouds of dust and his eyes shone as if on fire, lighting up the field. Suddenly sensing the presence of strangers, he let out a booming, lingering noise and whole herd stopped instantly. Over the course of the next five minutes, the Magmars observed in amazement how the Zorbs avoided all the traps lain for them, following in each other's footsteps, plodding along, one after another.
For some reason, as the herd passed by, not one hunter hit on the idea of tracking it inconspicuously. In the uneasy silence, dried branches snapped so loudly under the Zorb leader's feet that it made those behind twitch. A noose suddenly tightened round his hind foot and, as he pulled on it, he activated the simple mechanism. A wide net fell on his massive back, falling over his flanks, and became entangled under his belly, round his neck and feet, preventing him from moving any further. The huge hulk began to toss about, destroying stout branches and kicking up huge clouds of dust. Furiously shaking his head and letting out a horrific noise, the leader tried everything to free himself. In seconds, the net was torn to shred. The enraged beast threw himself at his captors, trying to crush them. Time and again it went on the attack, oblivious to the swords and axes cutting at him.
The whole herd stood around, watching indifferently whilst forming an impenetrable circle around the battle. If the leader was lost, they would simply find a newer, stronger one, worthy of leading them. The smell of blood hung in the stuffy air, yet the Zorb continued the battle, using all his strength, in which he had a definite advantage.
The Magmars realised they did not have the strength to conquer him and hope for a miracle to save them from the infuriated beast. The battle was slowly but surely approaching its inevitable conclusion- failure, when the stranger suddenly appeared on the battlefield, predicting victory. His armour was shining especially brightly and, in his palms, the air condensed, becoming pale blue. Looking the beast in the eyes, he approached it in earnest, not dropping his gaze as he asked the Magmars to step back.
The Zorb leader stood to attention, as if chained to the earth, and made no effort to resist the stranger's actions. The stranger raised his hands to the heavens. Rustling, like old sheets of paper, the wind rushed across the earth, causing the blades of grass to stand up and create a ring surrounding the two adversaries who stared each other in the eye. The leader began to gather his strength and speed, kicking up dust, whilst small fires began to shimmer in the palms of the white-armoured stranger, strongly contrasting with the pale blue luminescence of air.
Within a minute, the Magmars were witnessing an extraordinary scene, as a cacophony of sounds and colour mixed chaotically, bright scarlet clouds rolling like waves across the darkened sky as the Zorb leader and the stranger were engulfed by a colossal funnel, buzzing like a swarm of bees. The sounds were then suddenly cut short, as if severed by an unseen blade and a sepulchral silence descended. In the eerie silence could be heard the measured whisper of the elder, warmly and sincerely speaking to the Zorb in an incomprehensible language. Falling silent, he threw an amulet to the ground, which scorched a ring of grass around it, and stepped back from the Zorb. The Zorb took an uncertain, heavy step towards the stranger. The stranger stepped back again, and once more the Zorb followed. The amulet, which looked a large gold coin, pulsed with a soft light, and the closer the Zorb got to the stranger, the stronger the amulet pulsed. And, in this way, the stranger continued to pick up and throw the amulet down, summoning the Zorb each time, compelling him to follow.
The remaining beasts noiselessly stepped aside, breaking the ring and releasing the encircled Magmars.
And, so, victory was achieved at the cost of twelve great souls, a victory the path to which had spread across decades. All that lay ahead was for the great hunters to lead the huge herd to Dartrong, to combine the beasts' power and loyalty to the Magmars' strength and intellect, turning the Zorbs into their protectors and friends.
His task accomplished, the mysterious stranger disappeared into the night, having turned the next page in the book of great Magmar conquests.


Sunday, November 11th 2012, 12:04pm

You have discovered an autopsy report on a Magmar. Listen carefully to what I am going to tell you, warrior.

The Magmar body lying before me is the same as a Human body. It consists of a head, a torso and appendages (two arms and two legs). There is no tail. The first digression from Human anatomy is immediately evident ? the skin has a specific violet colour.
As is apparent from the trepanation, the cerebrum is not divided into two hemispheres, but presents a complete whole. I believe that this explains the swiftness and preciseness of Magmar movement, because the nerve impulses in their body have a far shorter distance to travel from the receptor to the necessary part of the brain. Opening the sternum reveals a further particularity. There are two hearts, symmetrically situated on the right- and the left-hand side, in front of what appears to be the lungs. It seems that four blood circulation circuits support a Magmar life and, one must surmise here, that after the failure of one heart, a Magmar can continue to live thanks to the other. Furthermore, the first heart might, like a malleus, lead the second. Is it really a perpetual system?
I have just conducted an opening of the thorax. It shows that the 'lungs' are not elastic, like Humans lungs! Usually, expanding like a sponge, the lungs enable the inhalation of however much air an organism needs, but with the Magmars it is quite different. At first glance, they are made of some sort of porous obsidian. In other words, they are hard, meaning they cannot expand and can only hold a limited amount of air. So, what is the secret? What supplies the two hearts with oxygen?
I would suggest that the clue is in the bodily tissue. The Magmars probably live like insects, thanks to tracheal respiration. Such a respiratory system consists of a set of superfine pipes, which I can now see under one of the layers of skin, the magmadermis. These tiny canals are capable of independently supplying the bodily tissue with oxygen, at the same time, like the pulmonary system, maintaining the cerebral cortex. The results of the analysis have shown that, instead of blood, magma flows in the veins, arteries and vessels. Post-mortem, the magma cools and upon contact with air, coagulates and hardens. According to its composition, it is perfectly suited to supporting life, providing all the necessary substances: it contains a great quantity of chemical elements, as well as volatile components and vaporous water. Judging by the evidence before me, when the Magmar breathes, the air is heated up as it passes from the nasopharnyx to the lungs. As the magma dilates, the oxygen enters it and is carried along the arteries to the cerebrum.
It should be noted that the magma appears to be the reason for the unusual skin colouring. I am unsure about during life, but post-mortem it acquires every shade from violet to light blue. Particularly picturesque are the bright orange veins and large arteries along which the magma usually flows.
After a thorough inspection of the upper layers of skin, I have found some barely noticeable black dots ? pores. Presumably, like Human pores, they expel unnecessary salt and toxins.
Of course, these are only my assumptions, but the Magmar has one huge plus! It does not suffer from illness. A Magmar is unaffected by viruses, microbes, bacteria or infections because they cannot survive in such temperatures. That means that a Magmar is less vulnerable and has better vitality than a Human, as well as being more enduring and able to adapt to practically any surroundings.
No less surprising, according to our specialists' opinions, is that Magmars are afflicted by partial daltonism and cannot perceive the difference between red and yellow, but they do have excellent vision and can see objects over great distances.
Coarse skin means a Magmar's sense of touch is diminished, but even here there is compensation! Sharp hearing and an excellent sense of smell allow the Magmar to sense objects by the smells and sounds that emanate from them.
It seems that this particular Magmar trait has both positive and negative aspects.
On the one hand, the Magmar is not susceptible to the pain caused by external injuries. But, on the other hand, the mind is unable to discern what is dangerous and what is not dangerous and cannot subsequently develop suitable reflexes.
One thing is clear: this organism is not identical to the Human organism, although most of the differences are of neither a positive, nor a negative character, if the whole picture is considered. The war between our races would have been settled long ago if we were not capable of almost exactly the same. Sometimes they have the advantage, sometimes we do and so it will always be if a third being does not appear that is capable of disrupting this equilibrium.
The study of Magmar anatomy is opening up new boundaries to us, allowing great advances in science. I am sure that further research will give more and more new results, which will allow us to move our profession to a whole new level.


Sunday, November 11th 2012, 4:14pm



Sunday, November 11th 2012, 4:45pm



Monday, November 12th 2012, 12:44am



Monday, November 12th 2012, 4:21pm



Sunday, December 30th 2012, 9:50am



Thursday, January 3rd 2013, 2:02am



Saturday, January 5th 2013, 5:06am


You have found a page from a book called the The History of Lost Civilisations. Listen carefully, warrior, and I will tell you more.
A small nation, which in bygone days entered a cave and called it home, did not simply live apart from the other races; they cut themselves off altogether, confining themselves within the boundaries of their underground world and living only off that with which the bowels of the generous earth could provide them. As they penetrated deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels, the creatures, who called themselves the Ald, came to know the secrets which had been kept hidden away from prying eyes for millennia. In time they became accustomed to the eternal darkness, forgetting how stars shine. They learned to build dwellings from the centuries-old stalactites and to extract sustenance from the clear reservoirs, completely untouched by Human, Elf or Gnome hands. The underground world into which they had gone, leaving the outside world behind them, proved unspeakably generous. The labyrinth provided the Alds with whole chambers of precious stones and gold deposits from which they began to found goblets, coins, decorations and even weapon components. Within several years, a huge city grew within the dark cavernous vaults, a city incomparable in beauty and wealth with any other.
At the very heart of their city, the Alds erected a crypt, where they placed an invaluable relic - the Sacred Chalice. For centuries, the Ald nation had kept and protected the chalice because of the power it possessed, a power which could multiply the power of its owner a hundred times over. Its possibilities were endless - in the hands of a skilful mage it could turn a city into a wonderful oasis. But every time the chalice was used, it caused a rupture of the harmony of existence. To restore the equilibrium, an evil, equal in strength, had to occur; so a youth, concocting himself a cannikin of ale, would on the same evening be robbed on the street. In a world where the efforts of a few might led to an almost perfect beauty, a whole civilisation could be wiped out by yellow fever. According to the laws of equilibrium, darkness relentlessly follows after light, and the Sacred Chalice was the invisible boundary uniting these two essences. The Ald understood how dangerous using such an artifact could be and so decided it was their duty to guard it from use.
Meanwhile, the new city, rich with fertile lands, useful minerals and healing waters, grew larger and the crypt, filled with extraordinary churches and pagan temples, became rich with the wonders discovered in the distant corners of the immense cave. The Alds named it Loirphast in the honour of their wise ruler, Loiry. It was she who had inspired hope in everyone of a renaissance for the Ald nation in its most desperate hour, when the people were forced to wander huge distances in search of food and shelter.
The labyrinth of the underground city became not just a home for the Alds, but a reliable refuge, protecting them from invasion by strangers. Once they had adjusted to life there, they soon felt safe and began to breathe freely once more.
But their happiness was not fated last. One day, one of Queen Loiry's advisers stepped into her chamber and, after a long conversation, declared that he no longer wished to live in fear of the chalice's magic powers, all the more so in light of the world's blessings which it promised. He said that he had one special wish, the fulfilment of which would not lead to any harm.
The queen was strongly troubled by this declaration and strictly forbade any action to be undertaken without her knowledge. However, the adviser was so blinded by his own thoughts, that he paid no attention to the sagely woman's words. He continued to reiterate his precious wish, as if he had gone insane, but in the end he promised he would take no independent action.
Loiry could not get to sleep all night, tormented by grave thoughts, and the next morning, her drowsiness was interrupted by a vociferous din. Hundreds of inhabitants had gathered at the entrance to the crypt and were staring dumbfounded at the shattered door. The Ald, calling himself a mage, had disobeyed the queen and broken into the citadel where the chalice was kept. The spells which he read to awaken its power were recognised by one of the Creators, but it can only be guessed what happened next. Whatever it was, the result was the lifeless body of the adviser, lying at the base of the chalice, with a deep horror clearly visible in his wide-open, glazed-over eyes. Just what had he wanted from the inexhaustible source of power? What retribution now awaited his people in exchange for the fulfilment of his last wish?
The very essence of labyrinthine life began to change after the incident. The Alds, one by one, refused to work, blaming a constant tiredness, the heat and sometimes a fever. Rarely did anyone step out of their own abode; it was as if the city had fallen into a long, morbid sleep.
It seemed that there was no end to the morbidity, but after several weeks, the nation was once again disturbed by a strange event: poisonous scarabs began to appear in Loirphast. Barely had the inhabitants come to their senses, then the corridors of the endless labyrinth were crawling with the spherical bodies, arriving in an endless stream.
If an Ald decided to go to the well or the nearest store, he would do so by crushing the living spheres which carpeted the ground, spraying a green, fetid slime as they burst.
Queen Loiry did not understand at first what had provoked such an invasion, but within several days it became clear: the waters of the cave lakes were rapidly approaching the wicker fences of the underground world's outlying homes. So that was what the beetles were running from! They were saving themselves from a flood! Just what had the damned adviser wished for before his demise? Surely no worldly blessings were worth the horrors which the underground inhabitants were now experiencing!
The Alds hastily gathered together what provisions they could and abandoned their homes in search of safer land where they could wait out the flood. But it was if the raging, black waters were alive and chasing the fugitives. The level of water reached such a height that only the roofs of the inundated shacks could be seen. The waters foamed and whipped themselves up into whirlpools, then gathered speed and crashed violently through the walls of the cave tunnels, destroying the singing stalactites, roaring and hissing. The Sacred Chalice shone in Loiry's hands, as if it were rejoicing at the destruction, and with every wave that swallowed up Ald bit-by-bit it shone ever brighter. The evil it had spawned filled up the cavernous with void, destroying the harmony of the Ald and the underground.
Almost the entire population of Loirphast perished on that day. The few who managed to survive crowded onto a tiny, rocky ledge and hoped in vain that sooner or later the water would begin to subside. They met night in deathly silence, in their own minds mourning those who had been lost and listening uneasily to the rhythmic splashing of the waves.
But their misfortune was not yet over. Around midnight, the exhausted Alds were shaken by a powerful tremor from the very centre of the earth. Within minutes, columns of dust and stone fell from the rocky vaults, destroying any homes which had survived the flood and wrecking the beautiful gold statues. Gradually they turned to large rocks, then huge boulders, crashing noisily into the water, raising up myriad spray.
The little patch of land on which the Alds stood began to tremble, as if they had come to the boil, the labyrinthine walls began to crumble, cracks tearing through them. Before long the whole cave was shaking, as if trying to free itself of some unwanted growth, destroying everything in its violent outburst.
The Alds had nowhere to run. Standing on the very edge of their rocky ledge, they looked for the last time at their dying city and strained their ears to the plaintive groans of the singing stalactites. Their was no room in their heart for fear because they knew full well the irreversibility of what was happening. It was retribution for their mistake, and it was inescapable.
The bright flames of the sacred artifact blazed fiercely in one of the cave's niches, illuminating for the last time the cave on its way to non-existence. The harmony of existence was again restored.
Over the years, Ald travellers and bards have composed many legends and fairy tales, dedicated to their huge underground labyrinth and the nation buried within. Barely had these tales to be born, then they were spread everywhere, from small hamlets to huge cities, each time taking on new embellishments and details.
And somewhere deep beneath the earth shining goblets, beckoning with the whiteness of their crystals, and emerald-covered diadems await their new owners. At the centre of this huge treasure trove lies the Sacred Chalice, buried under a mountain of bones. The time will come when another brave soul, believing in himself as a mage, dares to touch the chalice's poisonous power, and history will once more repeat itself, continuing its infinite cycle.
hi let's meet in game and have some fun :]
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Wednesday, February 6th 2013, 8:33am

春节好 :ghost:
hi let's meet in game and have some fun :]
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Saturday, February 9th 2013, 5:37am



Wednesday, May 22nd 2013, 6:44am


You've found a page from the book All about Witches. Listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you, warrior.

The Miraculous Garden.

'velvena strolled around her estates with a smile on her lips. The sorceress considered the miraculous flower, to which she enjoyed full ownership rights, her greatest achievement, in terms of both value and pride. She was not the best sorceress and was considered a witch only of the lowest echelon. She was only asked for assistance in mass participation projects, such as the Circle of Witches spell, when the sorceresses joined hands, creating a chain to pass energy to the most powerful among them. The girl was well aware of her limited ability and so took up work which was not only to her liking, but which guaranteed her significance and authority amongst the vassals of magic. She travelled across many worlds and lands, studying and collecting all kinds of magic flowers and herbs, taking lessons from great sorcerers and herbologists, and, ultimately, she created her very own garden.
It was a miraculous garden. There was no room for flowers designed solely for beauty ? every plant was carefully tended by Velvena's kind hands and each contained a miraculous quality. The tender rose Truth Flower could expose the lie of any creature, simply by changing colour to blue or blood red, confirming the speaker's pure intentions or, on the contrary, shaming him for his insincerity.
The plain blue and white Bellez could turn any girl into an extraordinary beauty, simply by being put in her hair. The aromatic, bluish-coloured Amemor could cloud the mind of a rival, taking away his memory and completely removing his powers of recollection. Velvena also had dangerous flowers, which required special equipment to handle. The sorceress never went near the Cuckoo Flower, which could suck the power from its victims in the blink of an eye, without the Negators of Unarius. She used the same artifact for handling the Fire Flower, a bright red flower, whose petals could burn hands, as if they were tongues of flame.
Velvena's favourite orangery 'residents' were the mood flowers. The multi-coloured Fan-Fan could fully absorb grief without leaving a trace, replacing it with the energy of joy and kindness. The cold and dead-looking Bir-Ber, on the other hand, suppressed excess passion, instead sowing melancholy in the soul.
Velvena's miraculous garden attracted a whole host of visitors, wishing to obtain one or another magic plant. There was no let up in demand.
The Phereia enjoyed great popularity among errant knights. The fragrant herb flowered with small golden bells, which help show travellers the right path, warning them about the dangers ahead. If Velvena heard the sound of small jingling bells, she would always smile, knowing that her Phereia plant was looking after its owner?
hi let's meet in game and have some fun :]
please use Font size > 10 for better reading


Saturday, August 3rd 2013, 9:38am



剩余138 amber
hi let's meet in game and have some fun :]
please use Font size > 10 for better reading


Saturday, August 3rd 2013, 9:56am

啊,我發在Off topic的帖子沒了,內容是神秘知識的文本,可惜了可惜了,記得是‘奇怪的自殺遺書’

又搜索到了,在.com官方,有人收集貌似 :ghost:
In your hands is a very unusual suicide note. Listen, warrior, and pay attention to every one of my words.

How could you live, how could you exist, if you were born in a putrid, fetid cesspool? How would it be possible, if from the very first day of your existence you found yourself oppressed by your own origin, your own appearance, your own race? How could you live knowing you are a part of the filthy, horrific nation of Chaos? That was my fate. Now it is my choice to die, to perish before they begin teaching me all the tricks and skills needed by a true warrior, a true servant of Chaos. I must go whilst I am still young enough to be left untouched and untroubled by the higher powers with questions and worries of conquest of new worlds, wars for universal hegemony, politics, power? But the powers-that-be don't know that by the time I was two kes (by which Chaos measures age), I had examined and studied in detail my surroundings, by three kes I had analysed it all and now, at four kes, I have reached my conclusions. And that is why I want to die, why I must die. I am talented, gifted even, and highly intelligent, according to any criteria, in any world. I have mastered the languages of 15 worlds, on each of which live two races. This suicide note, this last testament of mine, is written in 28 of those languages. I have not had time to master the script of the small, amusing Loggers and the sand giants and I don't wish to offend them with my illiteracy in their language. They would never forgive me. And, imagine this - my name is so awful that it can't be pronounced in any one of these languages! I've always hated it. Even my poor mother, if such a terrible creature can be called a mother, had difficulty pronouncing it. It's a good thing we don't adopt pet names for children. That would be even worse. Oh, it's such a shame that I'm not a Human! Humans have the most beautiful names?but there we are, I digress.
Don't for one moment think that I have lived my four kes in vain, only complaining about my suffering! That's not so! I have spent it searching for a way to destroy the creatures of Chaos! And now I intend to try it out?on myself! I hope it works. The last two kes of my life have been spent applying my experience, conducting experiments and studying all the merits and deficiencies of Chaos organisms. And, finally, I've found a way! Perhaps I will do something to be proud of, after all!? Thank you! Enough now, farewell! It's time! Tonight I shall do what is necessary ? it will be the darkest night in all these kes?
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Monday, August 5th 2013, 10:16am


剩余138 amber


115 amber
hi let's meet in game and have some fun :]
please use Font size > 10 for better reading