Role
The Flight from Darkness
Added Sun Feb 26 20:26:05 2012 at level 9:
Faster and faster he spurred the beast, his heels digging into its side,
he could feel the sweat soaking through his pants as the horse rode
on, it's nostrils flaring wildly, black mane blowing in the wind, the
sound of gravel crunching beneath the thundering hooves. A pair of
slender arms gripped about his waist tightly, strands of fragrant
auburn hair flying wildly about. The woman cried out, "He's right
behind us, we're not going to make it! Please, Onareth, get us out of here!"
A fierce, ravenous black horse reared up behind them, the rider was
encased in a suit of jagged-spiked darkened plate mail with an adamantite
sword in one hand and gripped tightly in the other was a mithril tipped
riding crop, lashing out at the horse, pressing it on. As he was about to
slam into them, the sword struck its blow in the neck of Onareth's horse,
crippling it and catapulting the couple high into the air, sending them
smashing into the rocky ground beneath.
"No, Elvane!," cried Onareth, the womans broken and bloodied body
before him, protruding out from under the quivering horse. He crawled
towards her, having been flung into the rocks nearby, his legs were
smashed, a bone protruding from one and his right arm was injured,
unable to move, bloodied from the inside. Yet, he drug himself forward,
crawling, rocks grinding beneath his nails as he moved towards his love.
A plated boot came stomping down onto his hand, stopping him but inches
from his dying Elvane. He could feel the cold edge of a blade pressing up
against his neck, the figure looking down at him as he spoke. "Where are
your gods, why do they not come to you now," mocked the demonic
voice. "As I have told you time and time again, power is taken, to be
molded and done with as we choose. The gods put us here for their own
whims, whatever reasons they may be, they are beyond us to comprehend.
Your insolence shall no longer be tolerated, I shall send you to the gods,
let them decide what to do with you!"
A painful, burning sensation could be felt, rising up and overwhelming his
senses. Quickly he shot up, knocking the desk in front of him over and
grabbed instinctively, without success, at the riding crop in his cruel
teacher's hand. Immediately he was subdued, a maledicting spell
overwhelming him, nausea, sickness, all went dark. The last thing he
remembered was feeling his body slump to the floor, fluids pouring out
from all orifices, despair setting in. Summoning the last ounce of energy
he could muster, he cried out, "Baerinika, grant me the courage...," and all
was empty.
A Glimmer of Hope within the Darkness (Part I)
Added Mon Feb 27 10:56:28 2012 at level 13:
Onareth knew little of his family, least of all how he came to be what he is
today nor why he'd been tossed into the wretched boarding school for the
dark arts. Which of his parents was the Dark-Elf, which was the human,
he knew not, only rumors spread via whispers in dark corners. He had
heard varied stories, ranging from the notion that he was kept alive as a
mockery to the human royalty of which blood flowed through his veins to
the even more guarded rumor that his blood was of the old, forgotten
Dark-Elf lines, some even said from that of the Mother herself, and to kill
him, would unleash her treacherous wrath upon all.
Rumors, half-truths, lies, it mattered little to Onareth. He was in a place
that seemed to make a mockery of the very existence of the Gods. It
twisted the morality of what was right and wrong and what one would
consider good for the people. He did not believe people to be inherently
vile, they did not all want to suck the life force from every living being
they came across, no, this was not the way to live and no longer would he
endure such vile treachery, it was time to make a stand!
Alas, what could he do, he was but one person amidst a sea of darkness
and despair. Even those who would wish to see themselves freed from
this existence found their spirits crushed, knowing should they even
appear to deviate from the norm, a swift boot would soon be kicking in
their skull. They were the lucky ones. What could he do? And then, as if
by divine intervention, it happened. On one of his rare trips to the city, a
Svirfneblin, or so he appeared, bumped into him, whispered in his ear, "I
know you seek to know more, take this, and more shall be revealed." The
cloaked figure disappeared into the crowd and was gone just as
mysteriously as he had appeared. Opening the neatly, carefully folded
note, Onareth noticed a vague map leading through a series of tunnels in
the underdark, ending at an 'X' and the words, 'If within you resides
questions which seem to have no answers, then here you must begin.'
Weeks went by, perhaps months, before Onareth had a chance to follow
the note that lay tucked away within the seams of his only robe. For
whatever reason, the headmaster, a wicked and vile Dark-Elf, was to be on
an extended excursion away from the school. Knowing that the guards
were lax in his absence, liking to partake in drink and games of chance,
Onareth took this opportunity to set out in search of answers.
A Glimmer of Hope within the Darkness (Part II)
Added Mon Feb 27 10:59:09 2012 at level 13:
After finding the 'X', it had directions to another 'X', the only words
scribed, 'Your journey continues.' After several more of these maps and
cryptic messages, not to mention multi-legged creatures, angered Dark-Elf
guards and Baerinika knows what else, the final destination contained an
old, ragged and well-read journal. Most of it was destroyed by time and
the elements, however, within its midst was a list, barely legibly, but it
remained because it had been penned over time and time again, the list
was simply titled, 'The Paladin Code.'
Studies of Light within the Shadow
Added Mon Feb 27 23:25:28 2012 at level 13:
The pain intensifies, the nausea so intense he simply has to let go, or be
ripped to shreds from the inside out. Every gasp for breath only makes
breathing more difficult, like someone struggling to free themselves from
sinking in the bottomless depths of a pool of quicksand. Voices can be
heard, moaning, the sound of life's last breath being exhaled, then a sharp
*crack* across his face and all is dark.
He never brought the journal back to the school, for fear it would be found
by someone. Instead, he memorized his path, over and over again until he
could return to the spot, blind if need be. There he would sit, only for a
few moments, for fear of being caught, but long enough to read and reread
the twelve commandments, one of them, the tenth resounding in him more
than any other; Do not become like those you fight.
If anyone could relate to becoming like those he fought, it was Onareth.
Living and growing up within the bowels of the infernal underdark, day in
and day out he had to be looking over his shoulder for some untold
danger. Not to mention, the mere risk of appearing weak before one of the
Dark-Elf denizens and being beaten to death for that reason alone. Let us
not forget the boarding school, where the mere thought of anything but
how to inflict the most suffering and lasting pain would result in the free-
thinker being used for that day's demonstration. No, not for him, he
would honor the long forgotten code of Respect, Integrity and Valor. He
would rise above the vile, wretched oppression and be the one to guide all
those to the light whom wished to follow, and if they could not do so
unaided, he would be there to help them. Why? Because he could,
because he knew better and now that he did, there was no turning back.
This is how it went, for many months, sneaking to and fro within the
shadows of the underdark, reading new texts that had been left regarding
many of the various religions and cabals of the land above. Someone, for
some reason, was feeding him with this information, preparing him for
something to come. What it was, he could not be certain, but he kept
coming back, more and more frequently and his times spent at the spot
were longer and longer in duration. On one occasion, he even decided to
return twice within the same day, something sticking in his mind that he
just had to read again. As he left the school and was somewhere well into
the underdark, he thought he caught a brief glimpse of a crimson-robed
figure just out of his left eye, quickly he turned to look, there was nothing...
The Branding of an Exile - Onareth Vuz'e'tel (Part I)
Added Thu Mar 1 21:11:18 2012 at level 24:
The smell of burning flesh and a sharp pain ripping through his chest
pulled him from his catatonic state, and there, looming over him with a red
hot branding iron was a crimson robed man, the headmaster, peering down
upon him with a sinister look of enjoyment in his crooked smile.
Onareth's arms and legs were bound to the splintered table, vomit and
other bodily fluids encasing his naked form, the caustic smell of decay and
filth permeating the air, making it even more difficult to breathe. His lips
were cracked and he could feel the gash across the side of his face, from
when he had been struck earlier, raw and oozing painfully into his swollen
eye. Suddenly, a raspy chortling filled the air as his focus returned to the
crimson-robed headmaster.
"Did you think you could come and go as you please," he inquired
mockingly. Then, slowly reaching behind him, the headmaster produced a
bloodied gray robe, somehow familiar in its design and then it dawned
upon Onareth; could it be, no, not him, they couldn't have, not the only
one to...before he couldn finish his thought, the headmaster interrupted.
"Ahhh, I see your mind races with disbelief, refusing to believe what you
know to be true." He shoved the cloak into Onareth's face, nearly suffocating
him as he held it there. "We were following him from the moment he
made contact with you," hissed the headmaster, "following every move
that was made by either of you from the very beginning." Casually he
pulled the robe form his face, tossing it into the corner. With his left, he
drew the branding iron he'd been using closer and there, fastened at the
end, was a rather large lower-case 'e' pointed in Onareth's face, flesh
charred to it's surface and smoke rising into the air.
"You do not deserve death, nor even torture at my hands," chortled the
headmaster, "what we have for you is something that shall be whispered
as horror stories to children among our kind for generations to come. For
as long as you roam these darkened corridors, branded upon your chest
shall be the nefarious symbol 'e'. Known by our people to be that of
servant, slave. If you choose to be a slave to the gods, then you shall be
known as a slave to the people." Two Dark-Elves suddenly stepped
forward as the headmaster beckoned them, untying Onareth's arms and
legs and tossed him his filth laden clothes. "You are now dead to the
Dark-Elves and shall be cast out to fend for yourself. You may take
nothing, save the name that you shall forever be known by, 'Vuz,' which
means old, forgotten, unknown...like the gods you worship. 'e' for the
slave you are and 'tel,' meaning outcast, pariah...exile."
The Branding of an Exile - Onareth Vuz'e'tel (Part II)
Added Thu Mar 1 21:17:15 2012 at level 24:
Reaching forward the headmaster grabbed Onareth by the arm and, nearly
ripping it from his socket, he pulled him from the table and drug him to
the back of the den where he opened a concealed door to the depths of the
underdark. As he was about to toss him into the infernal darkness, he
leaned forward one last time and, hissing into Onareth's ear, whispered,
"Embrace the Darkness, Onareth Vuz'e'tel, for it shall never cease to
embrace you..."
And all was dark, yet again.
A Baptism of Light amidst the Abyss (Part I)
Added Sun Mar 4 13:16:23 2012 at level 29:
The days turned into weeks, Onareth scavenging what he could from the
victims of the creatures lurking within in the underdark. He stayed as
close to the city as possible, hoping to escape with a group of passing
adventurers. As luck, or so he thought, would have it, just such an
opportunity arose. While lurking near the entrance to Teth'Azeleth, doing
everything he could to avoid being seen, he managed to spot a group of
Dwarves who seemed to be in quite a hurry, killing all that lay before
them as they fled from the city through the darkness. Onareth seized the
opportunity and fell in close behind. As they ran, he kept out of sight, not
wanting to alert them, lest they turn their fury upon him, although, in their
haste, that seemed doubtful. After what seemed to be endless turns if not
outright going in circles, the Dwarves came to a sudden halt, a gruff, angry
voice cursing in the Dwarven tongue boomed obscenities through the
darkness relating to Thror and beardless women. Then it hit him, he could
taste it in the air, the thick, briny smell of saltwater.
"Farggin' 'ell," cursed the larger of the Dwarves, getting louder and
angrier with each word "Yeh outta yer farggin' minds iffn' ya thinks I'm
plungin' inta them depths 'en gettin' meh beard all soaked! Farggin'
'ell! Yas evn' know whas' in dem damnable waddahs? Farggin' 'ell!"
So the conversation went for some time until suddenly a loud *KER
SPLOOSH* could be heard, a loud thunderous laugh and "Farggit, he's in,
les' go 'er thar'll be 'ell to pay iffn 'we don' get back wid this 'ere shite!"
Two more thunderous splashes could be heard, and then all was quiet.
Onareth waited a few moments before he made his way to the edge of the
sea, wanting to ensure he was still unnoticed. Luckily for him, the
Dwarves were in such a great hurry, they had little time to gather any of
the gear that floated to the surface of the brackish water. "That will
work," he exclaimed, quickly thrusting his hand into the floating debris
and pulling out a couple of pieces of slimy, stringy seaweed.
A Baptism of Light amidst the Abyss (Part II)
Added Sun Mar 4 13:24:48 2012 at level 29:
Looking closely at the seaweed, a sense of despair suddenly began to sink
in. "What good will this do," he thought to himself, "even if it does
prolong my breathing, then what?" He began to toss the seaweed aside
when suddenly, something, someone, as if divine in nature tugged at his
soul, showed him, opened up his eyes to a breadth of visions, of
possibilities and of goodness, of all he had already been through and what
would be lost if he gave up now. This little nudge, this guiding vision, it
gave him the courage, or perhaps some would say the disconnect from
sanity to dive into that sea and swim, swim like the Devil Scarabaeus
Sacer himself were right behind him! And swim he did, past a motley
array of sucker-faced sea creatures and slithering electrified serpents, he
swam and swam until he felt his lungs would burst, no amount of seaweed
would save him now and then, just faintly, a small glimmer could be seen
in the abysmal darkness. A beacon of light tore through the murky waters,
down from the surface above, a guide in the darkness. Up he swam,
within the light, upward, darting past the beasts, letting go and relying on
nothing but his faith to guide him. As a thunderous whale leaping from
the sea he emerged, up out of the Aryth Ocean, gasping for breath, arms stretched
outward and bellowing in exaltation, "Baerinika!"
Hope Amidst the Iniquitous Masses: The Paladin Guild of Hamsah Mu'Tazz (Part I)
Added Fri Mar 9 01:13:05 2012 at level 41:
There he floated, bobbing, up and down, wet clothes, torn, tattered and
clinging to his body like an over-soaked bandage. Slowly he looked
around, trying to get his bearings in the bright, midday sun as it
shimmered off of the azure waters of the Aryth Ocean, cloudless sky
above, itself like a limitless blue sea. He rubbed at his eyes, the pain of
this newfound light more than his subterranean vision could handle,
piercing his brain and sending migraines ripping through his skull.
Gradually, painfully, the searing headache began to subside, allowing him
to focus on the limitless sea around him and there, just on the horizon to
the west, loomed a sprawling sea port with ships of all shapes and sizes
moored about the harbor. Finding within him a renewed sense of vigor,
Onareth swam and swam some more until at last he came upon the
bustling dock.
Climbing up out of the water and onto the dock, he got more than a few
strange looks from the folks milling about the harbor. Several pointed and
laughed at him, chiding, "Fisherman are supposed to CATCH fish, not
swim with them!" He paid them no heed, not them nor the women of the
evening who approached him asking if he was in need of company, nor the
shady merchants pulling various wares from their coats and carpet bags.
He kept trudging, past the docks and into the heart of the city. Here it
was no better, only busier and perhaps a bit more regulated. Shops, city
guards and your general assortment of guild halls and entertainment filled
the bustling hub of inequity and debauchery. Then, off in the distance,
people in priestly robes could be spotted, coming and going as they
worshipped their respective gods. Making his way to the place of
worship, he happened upon an enclave of holy people; a few priests, some
shaman, a couple of sages and surprisingly in this hotbed of iniquity, a
noble woman strode forth, making no introductions, only her shimmering
form reaching out as a mother would out to a frightened child, extending a
weathered, calloused hand, she soothingly decreed, "Come with me, my
son, and I will show you what you seek." Meeting her eyes with a look of
bewilderment, his body and lips quivering from the cold, wet clothes still
encasing him, he was only able to utter, "They...they...killed him..." and
all was dark, yet again.
Hope Amidst the Iniquitous Masses: The Paladin Guild of Hamsah Mu'Tazz (Part II)
Added Fri Mar 9 01:32:34 2012 at level 41:
Slowly his eyes began to open, the light was soothing, a few candles
around the room, incense burning and a gentle, yet stern holy woman
looking down at him. "I am glad to see you are awake," she said in a kind,
comforting voice, "You have been asleep for nearly a week and it is time
for you to begin your training." Slowly she reached down, putting her arm
gently about his shoulder as she helped him to sit up. "Do not worry," she
comforted him, "I know you have many questions and fortunately for you,
I have many answers. For now, however, take these." The woman
produced a set of simple, drab clothing, a shield and a well-used steel
hammer. "You will find," she said in nurturing tone, "many of the things
you need can be found and had by those about, there are many willing to
aid you in your cause. But for now, you must go on your own and begin
your journey. Fear not, for I will be watching you and shall be here to
help you along the way. Remember, most importantly, never, ever, stray
from the Code of the Paladin, lest you lose favor with the Gods that favor
you." With a look that someone had just been reading his mind, he stared
at her, about to speak when she chimed in, "You have the warmth of the
light emanating from your ebony visage, I could see this the moment I saw
you ambling towards the temple. You have been chosen to carry this
light, for what purpose, I know not, but I do know you carry it and I shall
help you to discover what your path is to be, however, first you must take
what I have given you and make your own way, and in time, I shall help
you to discover the answers you seek."
There he was, dressed in his mundane garb, shield in one hand, mace in
the other and a newfound sense of determination coursing through his
mixed blood. Leaning down, the woman opened a grate at the base of the
temple's altar and, pointing a slender finger, she motioned, saying "It all
begins in there..." Off he marched, into the muddy hole that was to be his
home for what seemed a lifetime, but wade through the mud and the blood
he did, until every last vile fleshy creature was purged, he fought on, the
faith that the Goddess Baerinika was watching over him, guiding him
through this time of discovery and growth. Through all of the trials and
tribulations, always in his mind was the Code of the Paladin, what it meant
to him and how he would live up to it.
Thus began Onareth's journey back into the darkness, faith as his guiding
force; the faith that hope could yet be brought to the people and that
should he have the fortitude to see it through, there would be someone
tending the Light, at the end of the tunnel.
A Home within the Light: A Moment of Reflection along the Way (Part I)
Added Sun Mar 11 21:19:43 2012 at level 50:
The days in the muddy cavern seemed like a distant memory, as the
soothing water flowed across his calloused feet, standing there, boots held
in the crux of his arm, staring off into the encroaching twilight. Onareth
enjoyed, on occasion, the pleasure of removing his boots as he strode
through the rivers, the soothing water reminding him of his youth, of the
endless journeys up and down the waterways and how he took to them,
like a fisherman does to the seas, each step easing the next, until soon, it
was as if he was born upon the shores. It brought comfort to him that he
could now feel the chill of the water. Such a feeling was foreign to him
when his blood still burned with its dark lineage, however, now that he
spent each faithful day in service of the Light, he could feel the Dark-Elf
blood thinning, the pain easing as it flowed through his veins.
The thunderous, crashing roar of a waterfall could be heard. Looking up,
he realized that twilight was upon him, the cascading waterfall a leap
away. He lunged to the shore and quickly fastened his boots to his feet.
He could feel the blessing coursing through the boots, a slight numbing
sensation in his hands. It made him realize how blessed he truly was. He
recalled the monks could see this as well, his affinity for the divine and
helped him to embrace the blessing within the garments he wore about
himself. Seeing that he also took to this, that he could harness his inner
faith, they deemed he was ready to look outward. With that, they helped
him to follow his eye, to strike past the wicked taint that permeated many
a foes garment, aiming truly at his mark.
A Home within the Light: A Moment of Reflection along the Way (Part II)
Added Sun Mar 11 21:26:06 2012 at level 50:
A gnashing, snarling sound could be heard as he headed down the falls, a
mangy beast of some sort hurling itself toward him. Instinctively, seeing
the red taint emanating from its form, Onareth struck it down, calling upon
the flames of Baerinika, when the unbelievable happened. A violet hued
flame encased the beast, arcing out from his hand, the flames lashing out
at the beast with a renewed potency. "By the heavens," he proclaimed, his
mind racing at what it could mean. "Why will it not leave me," he shouted
to the skies, when suddenly it dawned on him; if he was true in his path
towards the Light and he called upon Baerinika, then it was by her grace
granted and by that to be embraced.
Embrace it he did. He traveled the darkest reaches, calling forth the very
flames that were once part of his darkened heritage. By Baerinika's wrath
he did call them forth, that they might hinder the minions of darkness from
lurking within the very shadows they spawned from, to envelop these foes
that they might not hurt the innocent nor lurk and prey within the Fortress
walls. The Fortress of Light, a place that he now called home, a place that
accepted him not for what he could do for them, but because of who he
was and what he stood for. He came to find that as his faith grew, when
around those whom he shared such a deep belief with, his connection to
Baerinika grew ever closer, the Light amongst her devoted bonding within
him as one.
Now, calling these children of the Light brothers and sisters, and, shedding
blood and life with those whom he held dearest, he could, at long last, say
he had found his place.
Breaking from the Code - A Paladin's Sorrow
Added Sat Apr 7 17:05:25 2012 at level 51:
Gazing at his cracked and weathered hands, a smile washes over his scarred,
ebony face. Holding his hands up, fingers outstretched, he notes the raised
veins and scabbed knuckles. Slowly, his gaze fixed, he rotates his hands to
stare upon blood stained palms, the countless scars a reminder of the daily trials
of life in this ravaged land. A holy, white light flares brightly, enveloping his fists
as he utters a prayer to Baerinika to return to the temple.
His hand shoots forward, a blinding white light arcing from his fingertips as he
utters a prayer of wrath to The Goddess! The Imperial Citizen howls as the wrath
tears deeply into his tainted soul, Onareth's blessed fists pummeling his wretched
hide! Then it hits him, his eyes focusing more clearly on his surroundings as he
realizes where he is. To make matters worse, a Tribunal is standing right beside
him! The Tribunal lashes out, affixing a pair of manacles about him and branding
him a wanted criminal!
Panic. Angst. Sorrow. A wave of nausea overcomes him as the realization of
what he's done sinks in. He panics for a moment and flees from the temple, a
brief scuffle with the guards ensues. Immediately he throws up his hands,
surrendering to the guards. As he lowers his head in disbelief, they drag him off
to a cell within the seaport of Hamsah Mu'Tazz.
He speaks to the Tribunal through the small bars of the damp, dingy cell,
apologizing for disrupting the peace within the city. He neither tries to explain nor
defer the blame of the incident, only his desire to willfully pay the price for the
crime committed. He knew full well the price would pale in comparison to the toll
exacted once he presented himself before the Misty Ruins.
He is stripped naked and all earthly possessions taken from him. Kneeling to the
ground, he utters a prayer to Baerinika, asking her forgiveness as the guards
proceed to lash him repeatedly. The stinging sensation turns to numbness, the
warm blood flowing down his back, down his arms and legs and pooling up on
the floor before him. Leaning over, a cold stare on his face, one of the guards
speaks in a commanding voice, "You are no longer welcome here, breaker of the
Code, find yourself a new place to worship." The muscular arm of the well-
armored guard comes down, flail in hand, the final blow striking Onareth directly
in the temple.
All is dark, yet again.
A Crusade for the Troubled Soul
Added Mon Apr 9 22:16:53 2012 at level 51:
The last bandage went on quickly, staunching the blood loss, while the splint he
applied set the dislocation in his arm. Slowly he rotated his left arm, then his
right. Next he lifted each leg and swung it from side to side, checking for
flexibility and range of motion. Seemingly pleased, he twisted his neck and
cracked his knuckles, a smile washing over his scarred, ebony face. If he ever
became too old or feeble to stand on the front lines as a Squire, perhaps he
could take up the mantle of a trained medic.
He laughed warmly, forgetting the aches and pains that coursed through his
nimble form. They would have to scrape the remnants of his mortal flesh from
every part of the countryside before he left the front lines, and at this point, there
was enough of his carcass spread over the lands to require an awful lot of
scraping.
The sun was setting as he departed from what remained of the Whitecloak
encampment, a pile of zombie and demon carcasses left in his wake. The further
he ventured, the more they came. First the zombies rose from the fetid ground
and as he delved deeper into the darkness, the demons began to emerge,
relentless in their ravenous onslaught. He stood before them, unwavering, a holy
wall of fists. Each swing of his bloodied knuckles tore through demons and
zombies until at last he fought them as though it were second nature, as though
he were a born zombie fighter and the weaknesses of demonkind were as
transparent as a cloudless, sunny sky.
The sun had set, the abandoned siege camp now lost on the horizon as he
trudged towards the Misty Ruins. The crusade into the northern hills had been a
distraction, a means to unleash some pent-up frustration before presenting
himself for judgement for having betrayed the Paladin Code.
The sky was as dark as a Scion's sphincter on a moonless night. Quickly he
hurried, feeling the darkness closing in around him. As seasoned a traveler as
he was, he couldn't seem to reach the sea fast enough. Suddenly, the splash of
water could be heard and he was making haste across the Dragon Sea, hurtling
himself towards the Ruins. A few more steps up the winding mountain path and
he was there. Exhausted physically yet refreshed and at peace with himself
mentally and emotionally, he stepped across the threshold into the Misty Ruins, a
prowling jaguar sniffing at his bloodied palms.
PK Wins
Mar 4, 2012 |Lv 30|Hamsah Mu'tazz|Jase vs 1: Onareth (100%, heavenly wrath)
Mar 5, 2012 |Lv 34|Balator|Grmwen vs 2: Onareth (43%, flamestrike), Ohlmu (56%)
Mar 7, 2012 |Lv 35|The Redhorn Mountains|Alannah vs 2: Mofangle (43%), Onareth (56%, flamestrike)
Mar 10, 2012|Lv 46|Fortress of Light|Jhen vs 3: Perathian (10%), Tairneach (49%, torments), Onareth (40%)
Mar 11, 2012|Lv 50|The Outpost of Tir-Talath|Kurbrawn vs 3: Vallinane (6%, slash), Tairneach (45%), Onareth (47%)
Mar 25, 2012|Lv 51|Fortress of Light|Uznash vs 2: Caladrien (34%), Onareth (65%, heavenly wrath)
Apr 8, 2012 |Lv 51|Domain of Eternal Night|Kaabaluta vs 2: Caladrien (52%, divine power), Onareth (47%)
Apr 10, 2012|Lv 51|The Redhorn Mountains|Kurbrawn vs 5: Mauldoon (12%, heavenly wrath), Bulquin (18%), Althalos (9%), Onareth (42%), Tairneach (16%)
Apr 10, 2012|Lv 51|The Redhorn Mountains|Danntruso vs 4: Mauldoon (9%, divine power), Tog (13%), Tairneach (30%), Onareth (46%)
Apr 11, 2012|Lv 51|Mount Kiadana-Rah|Miczariel vs 5: Tairneach (14%), Althalos (7%), Onareth (44%, heavenly wrath), Perathian (14%), Bulquin (19%)
Apr 12, 2012|Lv 51|The Imperial Lands|Isan vs 4: Onareth (23%, cleansing fist), Perathian (32%), Narissorin (3%), Lhymaleh (40%)
Apr 12, 2012|Lv 51|The Imperial Lands|Ekial vs 2: Onareth (70%, lightning bolt), Lhymaleh (29%)
Apr 13, 2012|Lv 51|Domain of Eternal Night|Miczariel vs 1: Onareth (100%, lightning strike)
Apr 14, 2012|Lv 51|The Eastern Road|Samaiya vs 2: Onareth (74%, lightning bolt), Bulquin (25%)
Apr 15, 2012|Lv 51|Domain of Eternal Night|Dhesthil vs 3: Bulquin (26%), Onareth (8%), Clahier (65%, wrath)
Apr 15, 2012|Lv 51|Fortress of Light|Gorb vs 2: Onareth (50%, lightning strike), Clahier (49%)
Apr 15, 2012|Lv 51|Galadon|Samaiya vs 1: Onareth (100%, heavenly wrath)
Apr 17, 2012|Lv 51|Grinning Skull Village|Mreklau vs 1: Onareth (100%, lightning strike)