1995-10-14
Recovered original text · preserved verbatim
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NEVERWINTER NEWS
Issue # 103
Week Ending 10-14-95
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FRONT PAGE
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Congratulations to Wld Wil for winning last week's News of the Realm
contest.
Wld Wil has earned the choice of 4 Pearls or Access to the GOH (Guild of
Heroes) WTG!
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On this quiet Sunday eve.. I was doing my patrol of Floodblest for Lord
Nasher. The quiet lulled me into thinking about that tankard of Dark Brew
that awaited me back at Strider's..and I was woefully unprepared for what
happened next. I didn't even see who cast the spell from the darkened
alleyway..just the voice in my head..booming..drowning out all else!
"KREGAR! VENGEANCE SHALL BE MINE! A CURSE PON YOU! THE FIRES OF THE PIT TO
CONSUME YOU! FOREVER!"
To my horror..I burst into flame! The pain..couldn't think..casting was
useless i stumbled into the wharves..hopeing to make it to the docks to throw
myself into the waters. This was not to be..for these were no ordinary
flames. The pain ..excrutiating but not consumeing my flesh! Can't
think..only hope to call for help! I yelled at a frightened by-stander to go
to Nasher..to call for help to end this fire!
It seemed like hours..but was only minutes. The call went out..for
adventurers to use thier Ice Storms to squelch the fire..end this curse!
Relief was mine when Sagx, Kryppt, Kh0lari, Mulgren, Warderick, N0r Bash, KF
Wallace, Rbnkinght, SOL Lione, Kaeyne X, Godd Send, Greta Lite, Khaki Sun,
Vilanne and Smok1n Joe ran to assit me!
They all helped..but it was Warderick's casts that ended this curse!
Congrats to Warderick..with his two Ice Storm casts totalling 45 points he
wins 4 free pearls and 1 hour free time!
Thanks to all who participated!
Happy Halloween! ;D
NW Kregar
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10-10-95 holdmon booth winners....
The following each won 2 pearls from Ulfy tonight....
merdell
c0rinthian
meklar
nyte vixen
sienna sun
rystariyl
-Ulfy
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Congratulations to FF Rhonda for winning the Location Hunt on October 14th!
She was the first to ESP me from the correct location to the following hint
-- "Farmers love this shop". The correct location was "Longsaddle General
Store and Farmer's Supply House".
For this, Rhonda is rewarded with one free hour of online time and also
receives 4 pearls. Great job!! ;D
NW Mystek
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NEVERWINTER CALENDAR
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Be on the look out for those Mini Booths that seem to pop up out of nowhere!
Can you be at the right place at the right time when the NW calls for a
location?
Keep your eyes and ears open for these events! Watch for the banners!
New Player Tours:
October 16th Monday 9:00 PM EST - Join NWA Icarus for a tour of the Realm.
Those interested should keep an eye out for the banner telling where to
meet!;D
October 20th Friday 8:00 PM EST - Join NWA Jade for a tour of the Realm.
Those interested should keep an eye out for the banner telling where to
meet!;D
October 22nd Sunday 11:00 AM EST - Join NWA Legion for a tour of the Realm.
Those interested should keep an eye out for the banner telling where to
meet!;D
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Roleplaying (a collection of OOC thoughts on RP) by Hawk718
I have spent a great deal of time(and money) traveling the land known
as Neverwinter in search of companionship and adventure. This game world we
all share in common can be a great place to get together with others and just
forget about the day to day problems we all have to deal with in the real
world. There are, however, a few problems when it comes to RP'ing in NW.
One of the biggest problems that I see over and over again is players
who can't separate IC(in character) and OOC(out of character). If your
character is insulted by another player IC then you should respond IC...not
OOC. There are many foul mouthed evil characters out there that will always
talk badly of "goodies" and vice versa. It is even possible that the evil
character that has been annoying you so much is actually a great person OOC,
and it is just as possible that the really helpful good character is an awful
person OOC. People such as these are good roleplayers.
Too many people refuse to take the time to RP. Instead they resort to
such brilliant dialogue such as the use of words like "wuss", "newbie", or
"putz". It's usually the very same people who will criticize an Elf or Dwarf
character because they aren't good for PVP, even though many who play demi
humans do it for the RP(some of the best RPers I've seen are Dwarves)...not
PVP. When confronted with actual roleplay such individuals become abusive,
possibly in part due to their fear of making fools of themselves. Do not let
their fear of roleplay keep you from giving it a try.
There are several ways that someone who is new to roleplay can make it
easier on themselves. A necessity is the understanding of the various
alignments. If you don't know about alignment I suggest looking it up in the
Adventurer's Journal. Familiarize yourself with them and chose the one
alignment you want to play.
Another good idea is creating a personal history for your character
which answers some basic questions about him. Where is he from? What are his
goals? What about his family? What made him the way he is?
These are just a few thoughts on roleplay. I hope they help.
The 2nd Annual KORT Joust -- Results
They came from over 25 different guilds, gathered in the Triboar Arena to
compete in the KORT Joust. Arrayed throughout the parade grounds, the
encampments of nearly every great guild in the Realms flew their flags
proudly, creating a spectacle like no other. Though the tensions were high,
the participants showed great sportsmanship and prowess during a grueling day
of battle after battle.
KORT thanks everyone who attended for making the 2nd annual KORT Joust a
smashing success! Especially Duke Orion, who both managed the Joust and
generously provided the 70 pearls that made this event possible. We are
proud to have witnessed, even for one day, the Unity that KORT aims to
achieve in the Realms all year long.
Hackers and the Punt Monster both made their presence felt in the first two
rounds, but for the most part the Joust ran very smoothly and on schedule.
There were roughtly fifty players in Triboar during most of the event but the
crowd never grew too large for the host to handle, and the paths never became
blocked as fighters restricted their own battles to the Salamander and
Bulette locations.
The final eight were all from different guilds... SOL Mioke, KEF Yunman,
Allan0n, Metr0n, Jacalyni, Benton M1, Kh0lari, and Elvron reached the second
half of the Joust representing SOL, KEF, KORT, Night Masks, Grey Knights of
the Balance, Order of the Crimson Cross, and Bregan D'Aerth (Elvron was
independent). After several tremendous battles, the final two confrontations
were set to start simultaneously in the center of the arena.... Elvron faced
Kh0lari for the Joust title, while Allan0n fought Jacalyni for the third
place prize. Elvron won his final battle very quickly, as he held Kh0lari in
the early rounds. The fight for third place was much longer... Jacalyni's
advantage in positioning eventually led to her victory over Allan0n.
Congratulations to:
Elvron, winner of 70 pearls of items and the title of Joust Champion,
Kh0lari, winner of 15 pearls for his own account, and
Jacalyni, winner of a Necklace of Ice Storms.
Wyverns on the Road
(submitted by Loraque)
Loraque looked at the locked gate that blocked the road to Mirabar. He had
said farewells to his friends, Delftwyn and Lour-Val. They had been
generous in providing stock for his new business, Sylvan Procurements. Of
course they expected a good return, but he wouldn't have any problem getting
that for them.
It was getting darker by the minute, so he turned and headed south toward
Longsaddle. The woods were dense along both sides of the road, and this
blocked out more of the fading light and made it darker. Loraque walked
along. After a short time he came to an old, painted road sign that said
Mirabar was to the north. The elf shook his head and wondered why it was
still there. You'd think they could take down the sign if the road was
closed.
The dusk was growing darker. As the road turned to the west he thought he
heard a low sound. Then he remembered. It had been awhile since he had been
this way, but he could still feel the awful stench in his nostrils from the
first time he encountered Ettins. He knew there was a party of them through
a hidden trail to the north. He took a couple of deep breaths, and carefully
and quietly moved into the thicket on the north side of the road. He inched
closer through the underbrush to the Ettin camp. Then he saw them. They
were hideous with their two heads. Their skin and ragged clothes were
filthy, and he could see the fetid fumes rising from their bodies. His eyes
watered and his nostrils burned from the stench. There seemed to be an
equal number of Pyro Snakes with them, but they were just a nuisance. They
often attacked the Ettins during a fight. He could see that they were camped
just to the south side of a small hole that lead to an underground chamber.
He had been there before, and had sometimes found good treasures on the dead
bodies. But he wasn't interested this time. He quietly backed out, and
crept back to the road to Longsaddle.
As soon as he stepped back on the road he saw the Wyverns. The thief's sharp
eyes could make out four in the dim light, and he thought he saw a single
Harpy lurking behind them. He thought about slipping past them through the
woods, but stupid Wyverns just need to be put out of their misery. He pulled
out his sword and then cast two fireballs in rapid succession. The Harpy was
easily killed by the first wave of flames, and the second wave felled one of
the Wyverns. Then they were on him. He thrust his sword at a Wyvern that
was still smoking from the last fireball. The blade cut deeply into the
beast and it fell to the ground.
The other two Wyverns were a different matter. In the dusk Loraque hadn't
noticed that they were larger than the other two Wyverns. They had managed
to dodge the full force of the flames. But now he could see that he was
going to have a hard time with this fight. He swung his sword at the closest
one, but missed. The bigger Wyvern attacked and clawed at his face and hit
Loraque with its tail on his left side. His cloak took most of the blow, but
it still stunned him and he staggered. He caught himself, and spun back
toward the Wyvern bringing the longsword quickly around. This time he caught
the Wyvern just under the wing. There was a hideous cry as the Wyvern fell
to the ground. At the same time, the last Wyvern hit Loraque from behind.
The beast's claws sunk deep into his shoulder, and it knocked Loraque to the
ground. Loraque rolled as he hit the ground. His shoulder burned but he
quickly raised his sword toward the Wyvern as it dove down on him. The
Wyvern landed directly on the blade, and impaled itself.
Loraque pushed the dead beast off him, and pulled his sword out of the it's
belly and wiped off the blood. Then he slumped on the ground. This fight
had been harder than he expected. These Wyverns were larger than he had met
before. Something was wrong, he thought, these beast have grown too large
and dangerous. Where were the hunters that used to stalk the young beasts
and slay them before they grew to large size? As he thought, he again felt
the burning ache in his shoulder from the last Wyvern. He reached under his
cloak and brought out a small amber bottle. He opened it and took a small
drink. Immediately, his shoulder felt better. He then looked at the flask
and tossed it aside as it was empty. It's a good thing I've got a few more
with me, he remembered Delftwyn had insisted he take the potions.
Loraque stood up and looked at the bodies of the Wyverns on the ground. No
use staying around here, he thought. Vultures would soon be here to pick the
bones, and he didn't want to be here then. He stepped around the carcasses
and looked at the smoldering Harpy. He poked at it with his sword, and pried
a small purse from around its waist. Hmmm, he thought, at least there's some
reward for my efforts. He emptied the purse and added the coins to his own
bag.
It was time to be moving again. Loraque quickly walked down the road and
turned to the south. After about a hundred rods or so, he saw the lights of
Longsaddle. As he entered the town, it all seemed very quiet and peaceful.
He walked past the General Store and Farmer's Supply, the Training Academy,
and the Arms and Armor Shop. This brought him to the Gilded Horseshoe Inn.
He entered, greeted the innkeeper, and got a room for the night.
Loraque
So enters a Rogue Drow.......
(submitted by: Zaknafe)
A figure,a dark shadow with dark ebony skin,hiscloak(piwafawi)pulled over his
head concealing his long white hair & his red glowing eyes. Leaned against a
wall near an inn,gripping tightly a bo-stick which had a humming sound
comming from it.From his neck hung from a chain was an amulet which allowed
him to understand the language of
many,likewise it allowed others who did not understand drow to understand
him."A most useful item i have gained" Zaknafe muttered to himself,as he
overheard a druken mage boast of his travels and the many treasures he had
found. Zaknafe a rogue drow traveled afar both above and below ground until
he came upon this city.. Neverwinter.. "Bol" the word he used to describe
this city..drow for intriging,mysterious.A place which seemed to hold all
aspects of life Dwarves,gnomes,humans,fairies(surface elves), and even Drow.
Nostilic never seen the dagger,nor its wielder he only felt the burning pain
pierce his back until life was lifted from him.He had no chance to cast or
use his powerful flail which was still strapped to his side.Half his pockets
where emptied even before he hit the ground
lifeless.Zaknafe gained more of what he loved,gold,gems,treasure... things
that seemed to empower him,trophies of victorous battles and
adventures."foolish humans,so easily they fall to my blade"he muttered as he
escaped without sound to the depths of below Neverwinter.
Drow, yes Drow exist here in the underworld below Neverwinter. Many time Zak
had thought of going there to try and be a soldier again for a family but the
Drow society was not of his own he disliked it disaproved of it.Instead he
perfered to be free of female rule.He had once been a soldier of a
family(which was destroyed by a lesser family)he
escaped and traveled to the surface.He loved to roam freely pilfaring,and
creating chaos on his own terms.
Zaknafe placed his new treasures 'trophies' into his vault and set the many
traps that protected it into place,while doing so.. he was interupted.. As
the bandit fell to the ground lifeless with a dagger protruding from his
head.. the other two fell to there knees begging.."Please ! Please! Forgive
us for...""Disturbing me?"Zak interupted. "You know now the consequences of
doing so""This is your last warning,look upon your
comrade and know your luck this day that you are getting warning" Zak spoke
with a deep monotone voice,and squinted his eyes angerly.The trembling bandit
spoke.. I...I...aaa we have news of what.. you asked of us..."yes?" "The
network you spoke of does exist here" Zaknafe spun around to face the mirror
on the rocky wall a smile ..one hardly seen.. broke out on his face and he
removed his piwafawi exposing his fine toned muscles and the scars of battles
on them.Several daggers where strapped to his sides which where hidden before
now exposed as well,each of silver with gems lining the handles. Zaknafe
turned his head over his shoulder towards the bandits and tossed several
gold coins to them.They quickly placed there shares into there pockets and
running.. nearly over each other made a quick escape out of the cavern.
After finishing his laughter of seeing the stupid and loyal bandits
spectacle,he turned back towards the mirror and spoke to himself in it."So..
the arms of Breagan D'aerth extend even here.""Perhaps it is time to join
there ranks." Those last words sent a shiver up his spine in excitement. "The
possibilities......
The Adoption of Feldspar
(Submitted by Luthyen)
The Lost Hills shimmered with the reds, golds, and oranges of the changing
season as Luthyen and Gambit made their way back to Neverwinter. The horses'
hooves striking the path released a rich leafy scent, mixing with the pine
to make each breath a sensual delight. Luthyen smiled across at Gambit.
"It will be good to get back to Castle Stalker," she said. "Aye," he replied.
"We hae been too long away. There are Enforcer matters for me t'attend to.."
The ringing of steel interrupted his words. "'Ware, luv," he said, as he
leapt from Midnight's back. She led the horses under the cover of the pine
forest and bade them stay, then followed close behind.
Drawing Star Seeker, she checked the blade. A thin edge of green fire
glistened. Keeping hidden behind the trees, she swiftly moved towards the
sound of battle. She didn't see Gambit, but then she didn't expect to. The
foes would not see him either, until he was their last sight. The armor
Gambit and Luthyen wore, Elven-blessed, rendered them all but invisible to
unfriendly eyes. His woodcraft completed the job. She smiled grimly. Swift,
silent, and deadly. That was Gambit.
Luthyen peered into the clearing, and assessed the combatants. A boy of about
sixteen, dressed in the robes of a cleric of Tyr, faced a band of assorted
evils. A mage stood by, his hands casting; three fighters, old and skilled,
had the boy backed up to a tree. The youth wielded a mace and bore a shield
with the device of Mulmar of the High Dales. Luthyen frowned. She had heard
a whisper of that place...
Lightning crackled from the hand of the mage towards the boy. Luthyen blinked
as it was deflected by a magic missile cast from the fast moving fingers of
the youth. The bolt struck one of the fighters and dropped him to the ground.
A knife grew in the neck of another fighter and felled him. She smiled as
she recognized the distinctive hilt: Gambit's. The boy had swung his mace to
his hand even as he cast the MM, and cut towards the third fighter. "He's
fast!" she thought. Even as she thought it, she was casting a cloud over the
evil mage, to neutralize his spells. A flash from the side, and Gambit's
sword ended the mage, while the boy finished the last fighter. The youth
swung towards Gambit in defensive crouch, uncertain but ready.
"Easy, lad, easy." The Enforcer spoke softly, gently, to ease the battle
tension. "Tell me of the device on your shield, for it seems ye are far from
home." "First tell me who you are, if it please you, and why I should tell
you anything at all," replied the young man. "For, in all courtesy, I have no
home, and have been harried these many weeks. It is difficult to know who to
trust..."
Luthyen stepped from concealment in the trees, the Elfstone flashing on her
brow. The boy's eyes widened. He looked from one to the other, and seemed to
recognize then the badges they wore. "Are you who you seem to be?" he asked.
Gambit grinned. "Well, now, laddie, that depends on who it seems we be. There
is my Lady, Luthyen. And I am Gambit68. We are members of the Order of the
Knights of Justice, en route to Neverwinter, where we live. Now, ye are.."
"Feldspar70," the youth answered wearily, sinking down with his back to the
pine as if his legs would no longer support him. "It is you that I have
sought."
"My Lord, he is wounded," observed Luthyen. She knelt by the boy. "Here, let
me help you," she said. "I thank thee, milady," he returned. "I fear.. there
was a poison.. on that last blade.." his voice faded with his vision, and the
last sight he saw was of her fair, concerned face. It seemed to him that he
knew her from long ago, from a happier time of peace and joy, and as his
consciousness fled, he returned there with a sigh.
Luthyen quickly prepared a tincture of athelas from her stock of medicinals,
and packed his wound to neutralize the poison. Gambit made himself busy with
curative and healing spells as well, and wondered about the story of the
young man. He looked at him, and then to Luthyen. There was a similar look
about them, in the dark flowing hair and enormous eyes, which in the lad were
green to Luthyen's brown. Both were tall, and moved with the grace of a
dancer. Or had, he mused, until the lad collapsed. "My Lady is
very quiet," he said softly. "Tell."
She came and stood beside him, looking down at Feldspar. She was pale, and
Gambit's arm went around her. "I think..this must be Tynuvel's boy," she
said. "My sister..served Lord Irreph Mulmar, with her husband Feldir. They
were killed in the service of that Lord, and I had heard that their son was
killed as well. But I see..I see her in him, so strongly, and the Stone sees
as well..and the speed and power of him, it was her gift. She was a cleric of
Elbereth and a powerful mage, and Feldir also, who I never met. Oh Gam, he is
my nephew!"
Feldspar awoke in a soft bed in a stone room. He was clean, all the grime of
weeks of travel washed away. His wounds were healed, and he felt stronger and
more at peace than he had felt in a long while. A scent lingered, spicy but
pleasing and familiar. Tapestries were hung on the wall showing great battles
in the history of the Realms. Above the fireplace was a stone mantle, with a
glowing arrangement of autumn leaves and berries in the center.
He arose, and peered out the leaded window. In a courtyard below he saw
Gambit and Luthyen sparring, in unarmed combat. As it seemed the loser of the
fall must yield the winner a kiss, it was a match both enjoyed greatly. In
truth, there were no losers in the match. Still, their pride in their
fighting ability made them compete fiercely, and Feld was amazed at the speed
and grace of the pair. He quickly dressed and descended, meeting them as they
entered the hall.
"Welcome, Feldspar, to Castle Stalker," said Luthyen. "It is our home, here
in Neverwinter. Across the meadow is the Hall of Justice, where live others
of our Order. Ye are welcome in either place." Feldspar bowed to her, and
joined them to walk into the dining hall. "Tell me, lad," spoke Gambit, "what
do ye remember of the High Dales..and your parents there?"
Feldspar frowned. "I was..very young when they were killed in the service of
Lord Irreph. I have little to remember them by. Only this of my mother's
remains..and until the day in the Lost Hills, never had I seen its like." So
saying, he withdrew from his pouch an Elfstone, twin of the one Luthyen wore
about her brow. "It was foretold to me that when I found the match of this, I
would find the parents I had lost. They would then complete my preparation to
do a great work in the world. What that might be, I do not know."
He turned his green eyes upon them. "My Lord..my Lady..what can this mean?
You have brought me here to this your home, and I am grateful..can you guide
me further? I do not mean to presume upon a prophecy.."
Gambit's hand gripped Feld's shoulder. "Nay, laddie, ye do nae presume. My
Lady knows ye..ye are her nephew, her sister Tynuvel's son. And, if ye will,
ye shall be ours as well, and live here wi' us in Castle Stalker, until ye
have completed your training and are ready to seek the rest of that
foretelling."
Feld looked in Luthyen's eyes, and remembered then his mother's. They were
the same. Tears came into his eyes. "My Lady..Mother, " he whispered. She
lay her hand on his head, and smiled. "Ye are home, my son."
(Submitted by: BassMaven)
Personal Journal of Marlek The Not-So-Magnificient
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3 of Tishrei, Daglow's Inn, Neverwinter:
I made it in! I, Marlek The-Not-So-Magnificient have been offered a
position at the New East-Westbridge Academy of Magiks! They have laughed at
me for too long, but when I return back to Neverwinter, they will laugh no
longer.
Old Forgil was the only one who appeared to be pleased for me. Ever since I
arrived here, the old bartender at Daglow's has been my only friend. It was
he who put in a good word for me with the owner to give me my present job of
refilling ale mugs to the rowdy adventurers. And it was he who managed to
steal a few pages from the late and great Strobar grimoire for me to study.
Granted I have not yet mastered any of the spells, but I think I understand
part of the
language. But when I am a master mage, AHA! Then, I will command respect!
No longer will I be the butt of the drunken fighters' jokes, (not to mention
they're swords -- Ouch! At least the swelling has gone down.)
Well I must pack and prepare! The caravan to New East-Westbridge
leaves in 3 days! I can hardly wait!
7 of Tishrei, somewhere past Vilnsk:
After 3 days of eventless travel, today we were ambushed by bandits,
and some spirit creature I did not get a good look at. Although they had the
advantage of surprise, they were no match for us. Well, not exactly US,
actually, I was not involved in the fighting, but the caravan guards
dispatched them
with ruthless efficiency, and after I crawled out of the convenient pile of
leaves
I had found, we continued on with no more mishaps, save a few scratches, and
a
number of brambles that had gotten caught in my hair.
I must comment, that all this riding has not been easy on my frame. My
body was not designed for all this bumping and jostling. And we still have
at least a week to go before we get to New East-Westbridge.
11 of Tishrei, on the road from Crossergate to the Lost Hills:
The effects of the drought in Crossergate have been more than I had
assumed. The dearth of plants have caused a drop in the population of plant-
eating deer. This lack of prey, seems to have caused the normally cautious
wolf population to openly attack humans in the daytime! A lean and vicious
pack
of the creatures attacked us around early afternoon, and I observed a bloody
battle as they and they're cousins from the North stained the ground red,
under the
onslaught of our guards. (Actually, I was not under the onslaught of the
guards, but rather under the caravan's supply of flax to be traded in
Triboar)
14 of Tishrei, on the outskirts of New East-Westbridge:
The horrors I could tell you of our journey! Well, actually, I can't,
suffice it
to say that our brutes bested their brutes. In truth, I've been unconsious
for the past 3 days, due to a miscalculation. In preperation for my new
occupation,
I secretly spied on one of my fellow passengers, a well-known magician by the
name of Thieger. I watched him perform a sleep spell on some wolves, and I
thought I had mimicked all of his motions correctly. However, it was only
this morning that I woken up, and informed that when they determined what had
caused my predicament, they decided to leave me in my state until we got here
to New East-Westbridge because I was 'just in the way'.
I hope Thieger does not report me to the academy directors, I would hate
to start off on the wrong foot with my new mentors!
15 of Tishrei, Academy of Magiks, New East-Westbridge:
What an outrage! I can't believe that I travelled all the way here, just to
find out that my position here is that of janitor! They expect me to clean
up the vats and storage tanks, and collect and prepare components for the
spell-casters.
But what choice do I have? I no longer have my job in Neverwinter, and I
can't bear to face the people back there anywhere, after I made my bold
proclamation of what I would become. Somehow I will find a way to learn the
workings of the Magiks, and I WILL become a great mage one way or another!
Marlek The Not-So-Magnificient will soon be known as Marlek The Fairly-
Competent, and who knows where I will go from there!
(submitted by: Zarra Yorn)
Sliding, friction, blade grates on bone. A slurping muddled
sound as air and blood well forth from the mortal wound. Lung
punctured, vision fading the elven warrior falls in a convulsive
mass to the ground. A shadow fell over him, the shadow of a
Drowess; that shade may as well have been death himself. He feels the
snapping of his ribs as they are forced apart. Five adamantite digits
enter him, cold and hungrily searching. Only a weak wheezing sound is
audible as his heart is torn from his chest; his dying words
go unheard. Blood trails down in a torrent, accentuating the blackened
steel of her arm. Like a morbid flower the hand opens slowly to
reveal the pulsating heart. The blossom, her offering to her goddess,
her life, her purpose of being; Lloth. "LLOTH TLU MALLA"
(Lloth be honored) shatters the other battle cries in the field of war.
It was this painting of death that the Malla Yathrin Zarra Yorn
had come to know as service in the name of the dark maiden Lloth.
On this moving, living canvas, bodies clashed with ferocity unknown
to all but the most bloodthirsty warriors. Blades collided in showers of
brilliant sparks, bit into flesh and bone and crumbled under the exertion of
tremendous pressure. It was war she had come to love.
Chaos, yes, the lashing weapons, the rending of flesh by needle
mouthed creatures caused men to cower in dread. Vision blurred by
tinctures of red, perhaps blood, perhaps rage... soundless battle cries
blocked by the heart's incessant pounding. It was here she felt most alive.
Now she cut her way through the chaos with spell and flail.
Shoving, gliding and sometimes tumbling, the result was always
the same, it ended with death. Flawlessly she navigated....strove
for perfection of movement and thought, a martinet of the
killing art. Honor drove Zarra to her goal, not the honor of
knights and paladins but her own set of twisted and dark codes
derived by her upbringing in Rilauven (Drow City). Zarra would not
let the Elven Queen escape.
The war had been raging for days. The sea of corpses were vast and
ever present. Zarra had been sent by ShyntIara, the Matron Mother of the
First House Faen Tlabbar to oversee this task done. Her orders were to
bring the elven Queen back to Rilauven for sacrifice on the altars of
Faen Tlabbar. Although she was the only Drow from Rilauven present, it did
not change her plans to steal the Queen and sacrifice her for the House's
honor. More bodies fell lifelessly as she continued fanatically determined
towards
her goal.
Into the gauntlet of whirling blades she plowed, her unbreakable
faith guiding her with supreme confidence. Her form was that of
moving blood. Not a single patch of glossy black skin showed,
nor stark white hair. Everything seemed to be blood, it was all
she could smell, feel and taste; at this point perhaps even see.
Ahead she spotted the Queen, escorted by dozens of battle ready
elves. Silently she cursed as she saw Zakril the Qu'el'Saruk
(Weapons Master) of the Third House Vel'dartril of Sarganith.
His prowess had spread as far as Rilauven and farther.
Zarra watched with her keen Drow eyes narrowed. A quick
spell increased her vision to remarkable levels. There, in the
distance, appendages flew from bodies as quick as they were
presented. Apparently the whispers of this male had not been
false, he was truly a master of masters. Silently she cursed as Zakril
neared the fleeing Queen, the personal guards did not even seem
to slow him. Zarra took note as he spun in a large circle decapitating
three elves. Dropping to one knee, he severed three sets of legs in one
fluent movement. Silently, she wondered if she could match his skill
as an approaching elf met her outstretched hand. He fell instantly as
his limbs withered and fell from his atrophying body. She began
another powerful spell....
Dimensional fabric folded in two as she appeared
behind her and Zakril seized the Queen by the throat.
He hugged her close to his body and spun on Zarra. Blood coated,
Zarra was indiscernible from another elf. Instantaneously,
she gestured her rank and the attack ceased immediately. "Come,
I shall teleport us back to Sarganith." Zarra commanded. Zakril
glanced at the teeming masses of elves then approached the
Malla Yathrin. They vanished as soon as the elves approached.
Momentarily, Zakril was disorientated by the mystical travel,
when his senses returned he realized he could not draw breath.
Even more alarming than losing his breath, his skin was being
seared from his body. Looking up with melting eyes, the last
thing he saw was Zarra standing with the Queen at her feet
protected by some strange shimmering energy produced by a
cubical device. A single, low, maliciously, venomous word escaped
her thin lips "Wael" (Fool) as he too fell dead. Zarra exited the
Elemental Plane of Fire with a fading laugh.
Amorphous patterns of heat described the cavernous
depths to the denizens of the Underdark. The Drow city of
Rilauven materialized into view with its stunning palette of
subtle heat. Towering spires twirl upward, shadows glide
with practiced fluidity, making every aspect, every scene, like
a sinister play. The Drow, beautiful and deadly, served
as the perfect metaphor for their magnificent city, Zarra thought.
She slowly drew a deep breath and entered Rilauven with her offering
to Faen Tlabbar and Lloth.
Malla Yathrin Zarra Yorn Faen Tlabbar
Malla Yathrin d'lil Arach-Tinilith
Quarthen a lil Ultrin Ilharess Shyntlara
Valsharen Dalharil d'lil Valsharess Nedylene
Jabbress d'Slakromstraken Wevrelltearcell
Ust Dalharil d'Faen Tlabbar
Ust Qu'ellar d'Rilauven
Lady in Mourning
(submitted by: HG Sharna)
In the corner of Harper Hall a young woman sits alone at a table ... her
reddened eyes staring ahead, but seeing nothing. In her trembling hands she
hold a tear stained missive delivered to her cottage just this morning by a
hysterical Minerva Snulgers.
She recalled the first time Minerva delivered a missive to her and managed a
faint smile. Then, looking down at the one she now held, she began to read
it once more hoping that it was some cruel prank. As she read the words
proclaiming that her love was dead, killed in a death match with Gammadrac,
the tears returned and again began to flow down her pale, high cheek bones.
"Noooo..." she whimpered, softly at first and ending in a shout. "WHY! Why
did you have to do this?! Just when were ... when we... when..."
Hearing the lady Sharna's sobs, Trappy rushed to her side and wrapped his
strong fatherly arms about her shoulders, drwaing her head to his chest. "Go
ahead child, let it go," he said. "Why Trappy... why?" she pleaded.
"No one knows why missy," Trappy responed, "perhaps it was his time. Death
comes all too often to those who Harp Milady, and Renik... well, he was truly
one of the best of 'em."
Drawing herself upright, Sharna stood and proclaimed "His death will not go
for naught! I shall find this Gammadrac and then . . ." "Nay M'lady, you
shall not!" Trappy said firmly. "Renik would not wish any harm to come you!"
"I don't care! What purpose do I have for going on without Renik? Better to
die and join him in the etherworld than to go on living without him."
"What purpose?!" Trappy shouted grasping her by the shoulders and sitting her
down firmly in the chair. "You are a Harper. Never forget that. For if you
do, then his death would truly have been for naught! You . . . and all yer
brethren, Flaire, Quill, Shadow and Lhaeo must continue . . . must carry on
the battle against evil in his memory. This . . . Gammadrake.. or whatever
his name is, will fall one day, as all evil eventually does. And perhaps ye
may be the one to see to that, but now is a time for healing, not more
killing."
"You must face your grief and mourn, as we all will. But mourn proudly, wit
yer head held high for your fallen brother. Don't let yer emotions shadow
yer senses."
"But Trappy," Sharna moaned softly, "I lov . . . I loved him, truly I did.
And I never got to tell him that. All the times he told me how he felt for
me and I never . . . said the words."
"Ahh.. ye dinna need to say it M'lady," Trappy smiled, "He knew it. I've
never seen him as happy as when ye both were together. Go home now and rest,
you will need yer strength."
Standing to leave, Sharna looked down at the magenta gown she wore. "He
loved this dress, you know . . ." Trappy watched the color from the dress
began to fade to a pale gray then to black. "I shall not wear it again . . .
ever."
"Yes, ye will!" Trappy argued. "Time is the healer of all wounds. One day,
perhaps not soon, the color will return to the dress and to yer life."
Reaching into his pocket, Trappy withrew a small silver pin. "He'd want you
to have this, I'm sure."
Taking the blood stained pin in her trembling hand, Sharna removed her own
Harper's pin from her cloak and placed it beside Renik's in her open palm.
Then, making a fist, she closed her eyes and softly began to whisper. When
she reopened her hand, she refastened the two pins, now joined as one, upon
her cloak, turned and stepped out into the street.
Once outside the tavern, Sharna untied Wishbringer's reigns from the hitching
post and, head held high, began the short trek to her cottage. A short
distance behind them, a gray riderless stallion followed quietly.
HG Sharna (Sharna Tyr)
Lady In Mourning
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