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LDL is baack, finally. We've fixed her up a bit and cleaned up old topics and made other changes. However, the plot still needs a little help. I thought maybe the best way to go would be to wait until you the members were able to see everything before we tweaked the plot so please feel free to post any ideas or suggestions you may have.


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There's a bunch of fun stuff that's about to happen plotwise. Also, go and take a look at the subplots, some of them need more characters before they can happen. [=

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Veritaserum; ' 1978 First War -- Marauder Era
Topic Started: Apr 6 2008, 06:27 PM (25 Views)
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    How do you know a war is approaching?

    Can you feel it?

    Are the clouds a little darker, the air a little thicker, the night a little longer?

    It had been raining for a week now. Seven days of puddles and gloom, broken skies and pouring drops. Thunder rolled and lightning crackled overhead every so often, startling wizards and witches all over Britain from their peaceful lulls.

    Alastor Moody hadn’t slept since the rain began - since before the rain began - feeling more unrest than usual. He found himself calling the Order of the Phoenix together more frequently, paranoia reaching an all time high. Because nothing seemed wrong. Nothing but bad weather, high tension, and far too long, far too tiring work days. But it felt unsettling, calling in suspects and witnesses, wasting hours tracking investigations, performing courtroom interrogations - getting nothing, nowhere.

    Can you feel it?

    In the pit of your stomach. The waves of anxiety. The unexpected fluttering jolt of your heart. The glance over your shoulder as you walk down the street. The heaviness in your very being of unjustified, inexplicable dread.

    How about now?

    A man named Tom Marvolo Riddle, under the alias of Lord Voldemort, is gaining support in numbers - children of old school friends, the original Knights of Walpurgis - under a new name. Death Eaters. The rumours of this fabled and feared group are still just ripples in the stream, faded from memory. But, as ripples, they start small and spread… growing, growing, until even though the splash is gone, the surface of the water is still unsettled, distorted, marred.

    Voldemort still holds the stone to throw, watching, smiling at the now calm, ignorant waters glimmering in the sunshine. In his quest for immortality no sacrifice is too great. He will stop at nothing to cleanse the world of its plague - mudbloods and wretched muggle filth - to watch as one ripple becomes the next, and the next. Until the whole stream, the whole world, is consumed.

    Magic is might. Times are changing.

    Who will you trust with the truth?


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