꧁✬◦°⋆⋆°◦. POINT ALFRED ◦°⋆⋆°◦✬꧂

THE PRESENTATION OF THE CITIES ON THE CANOE ROUTE BEGINS TODAY

Brynjar Renouf is the name of the ubar of this beautiful city nestled in a valley surrounded on three sides by mountains and boasting a large port on the sea.

I stopped to stock up on supplies and was amazed by the elegance of the buildings and the expertise of the Builder, who managed to revitalize the city after various vicissitudes. Many people crowded the streets and the port. Sir Brynjar personally took me to visit the beautiful sites, the various buildings and taverns, and the equally beautiful residential area, with truly noble rental homes built in the classic Romanesque style.

After the visit, he took

a scroll from the library with the history of the city, which I'll post below for anyone who wants to read. I'll also post the landmark to reach this wonderful place. They will welcome you with open arms.

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                                                         History & Lore of

                                                        

               Point Alfred

Point Alfred lies upon the northern bank of the Vosk River, between Sais and Jort’s Ferry, where the

current favors both anchorage and oversight. It is where the river widens enough to favor docks yet 

still narrowed sufficiently to command traffic. Its location is its strategic gift, and for generations its 

value far exceeded its modest skyline. Though never historically a great city by size, its position 

rendered it important beyond its scale, and for much of its history its influence exceeded its 

appearance.

                   The First Age

in its first age, Point Alfred was a working port. Its streets were unpaved, its buildings low and practical, 

but its docks were deep, orderly, and well defended. Warehouses and merchant exchanges crowded 

the waterfront, while beyond them lay fields, workshops, and modest homes bound together by old 

families and a shared Home Stone. It was a small world, sufficient unto itself, unless one belonged to 

the merchant caste or sailed the river. Then the Vosk brought the world to one’s door.

The city possessed no paved streets back then, not in the manner of Ar or Ven. Its roads were packed 

soil and river stone, often muddy in the rains and dusty in the high summer. Yet its port was among the 

best-kept on the Vosk: deep-water wharves, orderly pilings, and warehouses that crowded the 

riverfront in a dense, pragmatic sprawl. The merchant caste was strong here, disciplined by necessity, 

and bound closely to the Warrior Caste families who protected them.

Beyond the waterfront, Point Alfred was almost pastoral. Small dwellings, few rising above two stories, 

lay among fields and animal pens. This was not a city of spectacle but of continuity. Its Home Stone 

bound old families together in a tight social lattice, one in which everyone knew their place, their 

obligations, and their lineage. For most citizens, the world was small and sufficient. Only merchants and 

sailors carried tales of distant ports back into the taverns and counting houses.

               

The House of Arrius

For generations, Point Alfred was ruled by the House of Arrius, Warrior Caste, whose authority derived 

less from conquest and more from long stewardship and respect for tradition. They ruled as Uberates, 

guarding the port against river pirates and enforcing order with a firm but measured hand.

Antoninus Aurelius Arrius marked a turning point in this tradition. The first of his line to refuse the title of 

Ubar, he instead accepted election as Administrator to share power with a High Council and the Merchant

Caste.  He also placed faith in treaties and alliances rather than rely solely on the strength of an Uberate 

and the steel of the city's own Warrior Caste.  Antoninus was a man shaped by duty. He believed deeply 

in honor as a costly virtue and taught that responsibility extended to every life under one’s care.  He 

trusted in the honor of others.

This decision brought prosperity but also vulnerability.

His wife, Faustina, daughter of the city’s Commander, embodied the rigid expectations of their society. 

Their union was a civic arrangement more than a romance, intended to preserve Point Alfred’s internal 

balance of power. But their failure to produce a son weighed heavily on the household and shaped the 

destinies of their daughters.

Klara, the elder, was groomed for alliance and visibility, trained in music, hosting, and the arts of

companionship. Annike, born nearly a decade later, was marked early as surplus to these plans. She was 

instead drawn into her father’s administrative work, learning the machinery of governance from the inside. 

In time, she became indispensable—quiet, precise, and as informed about the port’s workings than most 

men twice her age.

    The Betrayal of the Vosk League

This order changed when Point Alfred joined the Vosk League.

The League was formed after a costly pirate war that threatened the commerce of the River of Gold. 

Nineteen towns—among them Sais, Victoria, and Point Alfred—bound themselves in mutual defense and 

free passage. The treaties were signed upon the wharves of Victoria, which was appointed capital, and a 

High Council was established to govern League affairs.

Antoninus Aurelius Arrius, then Ubar of Point Alfred, chose to trust in this compact. The League brought 

prosperity, predictability, and a shared river identity. The Vosk was, for a time, secure.

It was an act of faith, one widely praised at the time. Yet faith, as later generations would learn, is not 

armor.

As trade along the River of Gold intensified, rivalry followed. Sais and Point Alfred emerged as the 

League’s most influential ports, their interests increasingly opposed. Accusations of interference, sabotage,

and harassment circulated—some true, some exaggerated, many impossible to prove.

When Point Alfred was censured and suspended by the High Council for alleged violations, the decision was 

presented as lawful restraint. Whether it was also convenient politics remains a matter of debate. Records 

from Sais, Victoria, and other League towns contradict one another in subtle but telling ways. What is certain 

is only this: Point Alfred was isolated, and its protections withdrawn. 

      The Destruction of Point Alfred

Not long after the suspension, river pirates struck Point Alfred.

They came ashore at dusk, setting fire to the docks and warehouse district. Whether they were hired by 

Sais, encouraged by other League interests, or simply emboldened by the city’s sudden vulnerability has 

never been conclusively proven. Some later scholars suggest multiple sponsors; others argue that the

truth was deliberately obscured to cover more powerful interests.

What was intended as a limited blow became a catastrophe. Old grudges surfaced, and the attack swelled 

beyond its planners’ control. Fires swept the waterfront and leapt into the residential quarters. Those who 

resisted were slain. Those who fled were hunted.

Point Alfred was destroyed in a single night.

Antoninus sent his daughters away to safety but remained behind, bound by oath to his people. He died

defending them and committing his bones to lay with theirs beneath the ash.

      Exile and the Survival of a Line

Of the House of Arrius, only Annike survived with certainty.

Klara's ship was sent east toward Antoninus' allies in the city of Olni, but her ship was never confirmed to 

have arrived and later expeditionary forces identified what they believed to be the ship wrecked on the 

shores of the Vosk near White Waters

Carried west to Genesian Port, she came under the protection of Ubar Collin Daines. Genesian Port had 

long been an ally to Point Alfred, but its response after the city’s destruction went beyond obligation. 

Under Daines’ authority, expeditions were mounted to recover remains, records, and, most importantly, 

the Home Stone of Point Alfred.

Without its Home Stone, Point Alfred could not truly exist again. Its recovery required years of effort, 

sacrifice, and secrecy.  Jerric Daines, Collin’s eldest son, was captured and tortured in pursuit of it and 

did not betray Annike or her lineage. When the Stone was finally secured, it was placed under Genesian 

protection, not exploited nor ransomed. This act alone reshaped history.

Under Daines patronage, Point Alfred was declared a protectorate. Rebuilding began slowly, beginning 

with the port; commerce first, then people, then memory. Genesian steel guarded the river; Genesian 

coin rebuilt the docks. The city’s rebirth was cautious and deliberate, and slowly trade and prosperity 

returned.  Annike's children born of the House of Daines would be raised on the shores of the Vosk.

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___________The Second Age of Point Alfred________________________________________________________________

As Genesian influence expanded along the River of Gold, the Vosk League strained and fractured. Its 

High Council proved unable or unwilling to confront the contradictions of its own governance. Some 

towns prospered; others resented. Sais resisted. Victoria maneuvered. The truth of the past became 

a weight that would break the old alliances.

Weakened by the passing of the Daines Ubarate to its short-lived successor, Genesian Port itself fell to 

disaster, and its people were scattered.  Annike survived and took only her most dear possessions on

a ship hired to help collect her assets and take her home.  The burden of Point Alfred’s future returned 

fully to its own people.

It was on this journey that she should come upon an old friend and Warrior from Genesian Port on the 

shores of Turmus.  Brynjar Renouf was a born a Warrior of Ar, seasoned in northern campaigns, and 

wizened with time.  He would intervene selflessly in the corruption of the ship's captain, and by the 

time they arrived on the shores of Talis, they would be companioned.  After two children born to the 

House of Renouf, the third child would be born at Point Alfred, and the circle closed.

By then, the shared vision for the future had coalesced and hardened.  Point Alfred would not be 

governed again as it once was. The old trust in distant councils and shared oaths had proven 

insufficient. While alliances would be pursued, the city would stand first upon its own strength. Rule 

would be clear, centralized, and capable of decisive action. The Uberate, once set aside, was 

restored by the House of Renouf.

In the Second Age of Point Alfred, the city was rebuilt not as a river town of earth and timber, but as a 

city of stone. Great buildings were set into the land itself, fireproof and enduring. Public halls and a vast 

library rose where ash had lain, preserving law, history, and warning alike. Art and statuary reclaimed 

the city’s narrative from rumor and accusation, fixing memory where politics had once blurred it.

Point Alfred did more than endure, it flourished.

The Next Age of Point Alfred

Thus, Point Alfred stands again, stronger than before. Its rule is firm, its alliances carefully chosen, its 

people mindful of the past that shaped them.

Travelers who walk its stone streets should not mistake its order for rigidity, nor its caution for fear. This 

is a city rebuilt by those who remember what it cost to lose it, and who understand that history does not 

end—it waits.

The next age of Point Alfred will be forged by those willing to bear the lessons of the past and take up the

standard of strength, honor, and dedication to continue building a legacy of prosperity and glory.

Welcome.

 http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Coryphee/110/193/24

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꧁✬◦°⋆⋆°◦. darianeditor ◦°⋆⋆°◦✬꧂

            

   After leaving the kingdom of Wolves, I went further into that infinite forest, I wanted to head towards the sanctuary, but fate would have it that history repeated itself, once again lost among very tall and thick trees I found a stream, I decided to follow it and after many days I found myself in a fantastic kingdom and I want to tell you I followed what the Duchess told me and asked me to write on the gazebo so that anyone interested in living according to the customs of planet earth would be welcome, (sorry if this time I don't write about GOR) thanks to everyone

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Welcome to Himmeldingen

                       ====================

We're so glad you found us.

Käthlis von Wolkensteig, the Duchess of Himmeldingen, welcomes you.

Himmeldingen is not a place of great power, but a place where history is written.

Here, we strive to recreate life in bygone eras as authentically as possible. Social classes, hierarchies, and daily life are just as much a part of it as the stories of those who bring this place to life.

Immerse yourself with us in the world of the Middle Ages, step into your roles, and help us continue writing the story of Himmeldingen.

Will you live here in peace or fall into feud? What might happen next?

Once upon a time...

                                ============

Himmeldingen, a small village on the coast nestled between the sea, rocks, and woods. Not a place of great power, but one of enduring significance. Himmeldingen is the small fiefdom of Duchess Katharina Elisabetha von Wolkensteig, known as Käthlis. For generations, her family has watched over the castle and village. Where walls now stand, people once sought refuge from the elements, highwaymen, and the sea. Only later was the value of this place recognized. Its favorable location and proximity to the County of Lichtenstein made Himmeldingen a quiet but strategically important point. At its heart stands the Wolkensteig family castle. It is less a symbol of power than a watchful heart over the village and land.

                      But what will the future hold?

Whether peace or feud will reign over Himmeldingen and Lichtenstein will be decided not by ancient treaties but by the actions of the people who live here.

A Day in Sankt Nimmerlein...

                              ====================

When morning dawns over Himmeldingen, the village slowly awakens. Smoke rises from the chimneys. Doors open. Voices fill the alleys. People go about their daily tasks. Farmers cultivate their fields and tend to their livestock. Craftsmen open their workshops, merchants display their wares.

At certain times, people gather in the church; faith is a part of everyday life, quiet and natural. Afterward, they often meet in the tavern. There, news is exchanged, rumors are born, alliances are forged, or arguments begin.

Some paths lead out of the village. The cattle herder drives his cows toward Lichtenstein, where they are allowed to graze on other people's pastures. On these paths, people meet. They greet each other, know one another, and are friendly. The Count of Lichtenstein is considered an approachable man, someone one is happy to meet when the opportunity arises.

Life follows simple rules. Taxes are paid, the tithe is given, duties are fulfilled. But Himmeldingen is not a harsh place. Those who work and know their place find sustenance and community here.

On the streets, young and old, strangers and acquaintances meet. They greet each other, size each other up, and recognize faces. Stories aren't born in grand halls here, but between market stalls, by fountains, on the paths between towns, and in the quiet moments in between.

That's how a day passes in Himmeldingen.

Quiet perhaps, but never empty, and always ready to receive and write a new story.

                           Become a Himmeldinger

Himmeldingen isn't a finished place. It grows with those who live, act, and decide here. Bring your story, find your place.

And continue writing with us what hasn't yet been told.

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                                        ꧁✬◦°⋆⋆°◦. darian-editor ◦°⋆⋆°◦✬꧂

 

 THE STORY OF THE PANTHER SHEILA

PANTHER TIA

6°part

The sun had already risen high above the forest when Sheila's tribe left the cursed clearing near the sacred tree. The half-naked bodies of panthers glided between the trunks like shadows, leaving behind the scent of blood and death. Sheila walked ahead, her powerful thighs and full breasts glistening with sweat, her green eyes scanning the undergrowth in search of a new refuge—a place where the black panther wouldn't find them so easily.

Lyra walked beside her, leaning on Kaira's strong shoulder. The wound on her bronze side still ached beneath the bandage, but her amber eyes burned with determination. "We are not weak," she whispered hoarsely. "The prey saved us. Now we hunt again."

NOTHERN OUTPOST PANTHER

Nayra followed behind, her ebony skin blending with the shadows, her bone beads jingling softly.  She was silent, but everyone sensed it: the shamanka was already seeing new visions in the morning smoke—paths leading deeper into the forest, to hidden waterfalls and caves where the tribe could renew its strength.

The bound slaves—the gray-haired merchant and Selena—walked in the center of the column, guided by ropes. The man stumbled, fear weakening his legs, but Selena stood upright: her pale body, now completely naked, was covered in beads of sweat, her dark hair stuck to her back, and her eyes, wide open, greedily absorbed every movement of the savages. Admiration for these strong, indomitable females was already awakening within her.

The tribe emerged into a narrow gorge, where the cliffs closed overhead and a hidden stream gurgled below. Sheila raised her hand, stopping the sisters.  The air was cooler here, the scent of fresh water beckoned, and the high walls promised protection from large predators.

*Here,* the leader said in a low growl. *A new clearing. A new life.*

The savages scattered: some climbed the rocks, checking the approaches, others dove into the stream, washing the traces of blood and night from their bodies. Kaira pushed the merchant to his knees by the water. *Drink and wash your sisters' feet, male. Earn the right to live until sunset.*

Selena was led to Sheila. The leader grabbed her chin, forcing her face up. Green eyes bored into dark ones.

*You have seen our strength,* Sheila whispered. *You have seen death and sacrifice.  Now choose: become one of us... or remain a toy like him.*

Selena trembled, but her voice held a challenge. *I... want to become a panther.*

Lyra, sitting on a rock by the stream, grinned, her amber eyes flashing. *Then prove it. Tonight is your test.*

The tribe began setting up a new camp: they wove snares, built a fire, sharpened knives. Naked bodies moved in a harmonious dance of power and passion. The black panther remained behind, sated with prey. But the jungle always demanded new blood—and new males.

Sheila sat down on a high rock, looking around at her sisters. Her lips curved into a predatory smile.

*Rest, sisters. Tomorrow is the big hunt. The city is close. There are many strong males there... and much prey.*

As the sun sank behind the gorge's cliffs and the stream whispered its nightly secrets, Sheila's panther tribe gathered in a tight circle around the fire. The fire cast long shadows across the half-naked bodies of the savages, highlighting every muscle, every curve of their hips and breasts. The air was thick with the scent of smoke, damp earth, and feminine heat.

Selena stood in the center, completely naked. Her pale skin seemed almost glowing in the flames' reflection, her long dark hair fell down her back, and her chest heaved with rapid breathing. Her wrists were bound behind her back with a thin rope... not tight enough to allow her to move, but enough to remind her: she was not yet a panther.

Sheila rose from the rock where she had been sitting like a queen.  Her powerful body slowly approached Selena, her green eyes boring into the newcomer's, cold and appraising.

"You asked to become one of us," the leader said in a low, velvety growl. "Now prove yourself worthy. The test of three touches. Endure, and you will become a sister. Surrender, and you will remain a slave forever."

Lyra, sitting on the skins by the fire, grinned, her amber eyes flashing. Her wound was already healing into a deep scar, and she leaned forward impatiently. Kaira stood to Sheila's right, her fingers playing with a bone knife. Naira remained silent in the shadows, but everyone felt her gaze—the shamanka was seeing whether Selena's soul would pass the spirits' test.

The first touch—fire.

Sheila took a thin, burning branch from the fire.  The flames licked the wood, but the leader held it steady. Slowly, never taking her gaze from Selena's, she ran the burning tip a centimeter from her skin—first along her neck, then along her collarbone, down between her breasts, across her stomach, almost touching her nipples and pubis. The heat seared, Selena's skin flushed, but she didn't retreat, didn't scream. Only her teeth clenched, and a defiant gleam blazed in her eyes.

"Good," Sheila whispered, throwing the branch into the fire.

The second touch—pain.

Kaira stepped forward. The knife in her hand flashed. She walked around behind Selena and, in one swift motion, drew the tip down her back—not deeply, only leaving a thin red streak from her shoulder blade to her lower back. Blood beaded, trickling down her thighs. Selena shuddered, but straightened proudly, her chest rising with a deep breath.  Not a groan, not a tear.

Lyra growled approvingly. *The panther's blood was already in her.*

The third touch—desire.

Sheila nodded to Lyra. The first mate rose, her bronze body moving with the grace of a wounded but still deadly predator. She approached Selena, chest to chest, hip to hip. Lyra's fingers slid along the newcomer's neck, then down—circling a nipple, squeezing it, hardening it. Her other hand settled between Selena's thighs, finding the hot wetness and slowly, commandingly entering.

Selena's entire body trembled. Her eyes closed, her lips parted in a soft moan—not pain, but surrender to the sisters' strength. Lyra took her time: she moved deeply, confidently, making Selena arch, seeking more. Sheila watched, her green eyes blazing. Kaira came up behind her, pressed herself against Selena's back, her lips finding the fresh cut and slowly licking away the blood.  When Selene finally arched in a spasm of pleasure, loudly breathing out Sheila's name, the circle of panthers growled—low, satisfied.

Lyra retreated. Kyra cut the vine on Selene's wrists. Sheila stepped forward and smeared the blood from the cut onto the newcomer's cheek with her own hand—a ritual mark.

"Now you are a panther," the leader said. "The old name remains in the past, along with your weakness and the city chains," Sheila said in a low, commanding growl that echoed off the rocks. "From this moment on, you are Tala. Claw. Because today you showed claws, not tears."

Lyra, lying nearby on the skins, bared her teeth in a satisfied smile. Her amber eyes flashed with approval.  "Tala," she repeated hoarsely, tasting the new name. "It works. Sharp claws are for males and enemies."

Kaira stepped closer and ran the tip of her knife across the fresh mark on Tala's cheek—not deeply, only intensifying the ritual blood. "Tala," she confirmed. "Now you are ours. Completely."

Naira, sitting in the shadows, quietly growled the ancient words of blessing, and all the sisters joined in—a low, guttural chorus that made even the bound merchant in the corner shrink into the ground.

Sheila pulled Tala close—chest to chest, hip to hip—and sank her lips into a long, hard kiss of dominatrix. When she pulled away, blood and fire remained on both their lips.  "Welcome to the tribe, Tala," the leader whispered. "You are now Sheila's panther."

Tala—formerly Selena—straightened, her chest heaving proudly, her eyes blazing with a new, wild gleam. She growled in response, truly for the first time, and the sound merged with the roar of the entire tribe.

In the pre-dawn gloom of the gorge, with the dew still chilling the panthers' naked bodies, the elder trader managed to bite through the weakened rope that bound his wrists. Fear gave him strength: he crawled silently away from the fire where his sisters slept and disappeared into the thicket, heading toward the distant fires of Laurium. His heart pounded, his gray hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, but he ran, knowing that pursuit would soon follow.

Sheila woke first—the instinct of a leader. Her green eyes flashed with fury when she saw the empty space at the edge of the camp. A quiet growl awakened the others. Lyra wanted to follow, but the wound still rankled, and Sheila stopped her with a commanding gesture.

*You will remain with the tribe.  Kaira and I—we'll get him back.*

Kaira was already on her feet, her dark eyes blazing with the hunt's passion. Her naked body tensed, the charcoal stripes on her chest and belly like black claws in the morning light. Two panthers slid into the jungle—silent, deadly.

The merchant reached Laurium by midday, barely alive from fatigue and scratches. The city gates opened before him—the guards recognized the renowned merchant. He burst into the main square, shouting of wild panthers, of kidnapping, of the caravan's destruction.

He was met by Lady Mali, the head of the Laurium merchant caste, a stern and imperious woman. Her fair hair was neatly piled high on her head, adorned with golden pins bearing the emblem of scales and coins.  An ivory silk dress clung to her slender body, accentuating her high bust and narrow waist. Her eyes, cold and gray as steel, listened attentively to the merchant's halting tale.

*Panthers in our forest?* she asked in a calm but firm voice. *This is a threat to trade routes. I will ask the Tatrix to send a detachment of warriors. You are safe, Master Renard. Rest. Your losses will be reimbursed from the caste's treasury.* The merchant collapsed at her feet, kissing the hem of her dress in gratitude.

And in the shadow of the dense thicket at the very edge of Laurium, two panthers watched.

Sheila and Kaira lay on their stomachs on a high hill, their naked bodies blending with the grass and foliage.  Sheila's green eyes narrowed, taking in the city: the high walls, the towers with the caste flags, the bustling markets where men in colorful tunics traded and women in silks and chains scurried among the stalls. Many males—strong, rich, with or without steel collars. Plenty of prey.

Kaira growled softly, her fingers digging into the ground.

*Look, my leader,* she whispered. *There are hundreds of them. In cages of stone and law. And this one... with the blond tuft... does she rule them all?* The last phrase sounded like a question.

Sheila smiled—slowly, predatorily. Her full chest rose in a deep breath, a deep breath, the muscles in her thighs tensed.

*He slipped away today. But the city... the city will not slip away.  We'll be back.*

Kaira bared her teeth in response, her dark eyes flashing.

*And we'll take not just one slave. But many.*

The two panthers retreated silently into the jungle, leaving Laurium in the dark.

STORY OF KATYSHA SILVA

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꧁✬◦°⋆⋆°◦. darianeditor ◦°⋆⋆°◦✬꧂