1995-11-05
Recovered original text · preserved verbatim
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NEVERWINTER NEWS
Issue # 106
Week Ending 11-05-95
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FRONT PAGE
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Congratulations to Cockroach6 for winning last week's News of the Realm
contest with "The Dwarven King".
Cockroach6 has earned the choice of 4 Pearls or Access to the GOH (Guild of
Heroes) WTG!
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Location Hunt!
Congrats to Tanager X who won the location hunt and found the blubbering
manin Nightsedge. (wins 2 pearls & 1 free hour)
- NW Kel
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Tour, 10/28, 10pm
Gathering brave souls around me, we decided to venture to Port Llast and
investigate the rumors surrounding the Gallant Prince. Volunteering to
venture forth with me were neo hawk2, alammon, wiflok, mouseofgle, ns choas,
kylearian, and ragman911. We encountered little in the way of monsters until
we hit the beautiful avenues of Windycliffs. wiflok was taken quickly by the
Punt Monster, and neo hawk2 and mouseofgle became lost in the twisting ways
as well. Saddened but determined to avenge them, we pressed forward, making
it to the inn without great incident. After visiting with the harbor master,
we headed for the cursed ship, where the guard stationed there seemed quite
scared and nervous. We ran into spiders galore , along with their undead
companions, and had it not been for some timely Neutralize Poisons, our
numbers would have been decimated before we got very far indeed. As it was,
we could not save alammon from the deadly poisons of the phase spiders that
attacked us, nor could we save ns choas from the stoney gaze of the medusa,
though both put up a valiant effort to resist. After collecting evidence to
bring to Lord Nasher, our remaining party of three limped our way back to
Neverwinter, grateful once again to be in the safety of the city. :)
Thank you to each of you that joined by tour. It was a truely enjoyable
time. :)
-NW Sparkle
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October booth #2
"A cool night was about as the second GoH booth for October went underway.
And it didn't get any cooler as the participants had to take ice storm after
ice storm spell in this chilling booth ;)
Coming out on top was Boshiro, who took only 15 points of damage from two ice
storm casts, and won the 5 pearl prize.
Congrats to Boshiro!"
-NW Strahd
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Great Hall Tavern
This weeks winner of Guild of Heroes access from the Great Hall Tavern is....
Minerva Sun! ;>
~NWT Cyane
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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:
November 5th Sunday 3:00 PM EST - Join NWA Valor for a tour of the Realm.
Those interested should keep an eye out for the banner telling where to
meet!;D
November 7th Tuesday 7:00 PM EST - Join NWA Silver for a tour of the Realm.
Those interested should keep an eye out for the banner telling where to
meet!;D
November 11th Saturday 11:00 PM EST - Join NWA Dain for a tour of the Realm.
Those interested should keep an eye out for the banner telling where to
meet!;D
November 12th Sunday 8:00 PM EST - Join NWA Vic 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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Not IT!
(Submitted by: HR Lanclot)
Lanclot struggles down the path, it has been a long and hard journey for the
once proud ranger. He knows that the guild hall is not to far ahead and soon
he will be back in the company of his fellow brothers and sisters of the HR.
As he approaches a dark and dense section of the path . . . he senses
something. He pauses for a moment, and without realizing it, his grip
tightens on his MS and Awl Pike. His eyes slowly scan the area and he starts
forward again. The safety of the hall is all he can think of, but he is weak
and the wounds on his body are starting to catch up to him. As he takes the
next few steps he seems to catch something in the corner of his eye, but the
strength is draining from his body fast. He makes one last attempt and
swings his awl pike at the figure with all his remaining strength before he
collapses to the ground . . .
As the sun rises it peeks thru the trees at the two bodies lying on the
ground . . . the human stirs. He covers his eyes from the sun as he lifts
his head, lifting his wounded body off the ground he notices the evil that
was lying beside him. He mumbles to himself "I have finally defeated you!"
::He makes a bad attempt at kicking the creature as a final blow:: Staring
at it for a few moments he shakes his head and gathers his belongings. A
smile comes over his face as he starts up the path again towards his guild.
"It will be good to get back to my companions." He winces from the pain
inflicted upon him and can't help but to take one more look at what has been
a mighty adversary. As he looks at the beast one last time a chill goes up
his spine. He nods at the dead creature almost in admiration "You have been
a worthy opponent." Lanclot turns and starts back up the path. But for some
reason he can't shake the feeling that this is the last of the . . PUNT
MONSTER!!!
HR Lanclot
The Duergar
(Submitted by: Loraque)
The sun had just dipped behind the western hills. To the east there was a
broad, shallow valley. There were small groves of trees scattered here and
there, but the valley floor was mostly covered with tall grasses that had
grown during the summer and were now drying in the fall winds. Meandering
along the center of the valley and around the clumps of trees was a road that
led northwest from Iron Ford to Red Larch. The road was partially cobbled
and partly bricked in places. But there were many spots where the stones or
masonry had been broken or pulled up, and weeds and grasses grew in their
place. It had been years since a crew of workers had tried to replace the
missing pieces.
A chilling north wind was blowing down the valley and the grasses and trees
were swaying and whistling as the wind moved through them. It had been
blowing all day, and now it was beginning to pick up. Dark clouds could be
seen to the north. There was going to be a fall storm that night. All along
the road, in either direction there was no movement, except for a single
figure, walking toward Red Larch. He was short and had a stocky build, and
he walked with his head down to shield himself from the wind. At a distance,
he appeared to be a grayish figure, with no particular features to draw
attention to himself. In the fading sunlight, he blended into the mosaic of
shadows growing behind him. His skin was darker than most dwarves. His
beard looked the color of charcoal, and his hair hung straight, ending just
above his shoulders. His face showed few creases and wrinkles from age, but
he had a noticeable scar from under his left eye to his ear where a blade had
cut him in a fight. He wore a leather tunic and had black leggings, and
dirty leather boots. He wasn't walking on the road, but he was about a pace
or two off to the right. He seemed to like it there, and he hummed a low
guttural tone as he walked along, keeping a rhythm with his gait.
This was Erwykk, son of Mragyn from under the Greypeaks, far to the east of
Waterdeep. It had been a decent week, he thought to himself. He had killed
some orcs, and had found an elven sword. He paused for a second, cleared his
throat, and spit the slimy mucus on the road. He then reached back into his
pack and pulled out the short sword. The blade was hardened iron that was
showing signs of rust. The hilt looked like mithral and there was a red
stone set in it. It looked like a ruby, but Erwykk had no eye for such gems,
so it meant nothing to him. There were also two runes etched into the hilt,
but they were only gibberish to him. It looked like a common short sword,
set off with a bright stone.
"Dis be no plain sword, dis be an orc killer," he thought to himself. "Yah,
dis blade be called 'orc killer,'" he said half out loud. "Me bet me git a
good bit o' gold for dis blade. And den' lift it back." He chuckled to
himself at his good fortune and his plans.
As he walked along, his mind wandered into the memories of the past
days.........
Erwykk had been in the western reaches of the High Forest all week. This
part of the forest was an irregular pattern of low, rolling hills with gentle
slopes. It was old with hardwoods, with an occasional pine found scattered
among the others. During the summer the high leaf canopy blocked the
sunlight and made the forest floor dark. Few shrubs and bushes grew as
ground cover in these parts. But in the fall, after the first hard freeze,
all the leaves would be off the trees. During this time, the forest was
bright as sunlight could reach the floor of the forest. This was a time when
it seemed that a thief or robber would have a hard time ambushing anyone,
because there was no cover in the bright light.
Erwykk loved this time of year. The cool air felt easy in his lungs, and he
lived for the challenge of tracking and stalking among and around the tree
trunks. On his second day in the forest, as dusk was approaching, Erwykk
came over a hill and saw a young orc filling water skins. He was beside a
small spring that bubbled from underneath a large, split boulder. The orc
wore a leather vest and helm with dark orange markings, and had a small sword
and shield slung on his back. He was outfitted like a soldier, but he seemed
to be too small. Maybe this one was a recruit, and hadn't completed his
training.
The orc was kneeling on the leaf covered ground next to the spring intently
fillingthe skins. He was concentrating on getting as much water as he could
into each, so hadn't noticed the dwarf appear on the low hill off to his
left. The last time he had filled the skins, the commander had cursed him
because he hadn't gotten enough water in the bags. The commander had turned
angry and violent, and had struck him and knocked him to the ground. So the
orc concentrated on holding the throat of each bag in the water, trying
to squeeze out air and let in more water. He didn't want his commander to
whip him again.
Erwykk was ready to charge down the hill and slay the orc as soon as he saw
him. But he resisted the impulse, and closely watched the orc from behind a
tree. The weather had been clear and bright the last days, so the thick pad
of brown and tan leaves on the ground were dry and they crackled when stepped
on. Erwykk had to move carefully so as not to make any noise. He was
downwind from the orc, so while his nose was filled with his stench, it would
be harder for the orc to hear him.
He watched as the orc finished with the last skin. The orc tied them
together in pairs, and draped them over his shoulders. He hunched under the
weight, and then started walking up the low rise on the far side of the
spring. He didn't know that he had been watched or that he was being trailed.
He remembered his training and would often stop and look around and would
listen as best he could. He never saw the dwarf behind the trees.
The young orc crossed the first rise, then turned to the right and followed
the contour until he came to the camp. When he got there he walked over to
the largest orc, and carefully handed each pair of skins to him. The
commander said something as he hefted the skins and tested the water in each.
The commander passed three skins to the soldiers, took two for himself, gave
a smaller bag back to the recruit, and then laid the last one on the ground.
Then he snapped at the other orcs and they grabbed their packs and pulled out
different size pouches.
Erwykk carefully held his place behind a large oak as he counted five orc
foot soldiers and the one recruit. "Dis be good," he thought to himself. So
he quietly waited for the dusk to turn to night. Then he would make his
move.
The orcs had pushed two rocks together and built a fire between them. There
was a small metal pot of water setting on the edge on one rock, being heated
by the flames. As Erwykk watched the orcs pull leather and canvas bags out
of their packs, a sixth orc soldier appeared in the camp. He was carrying
what looked like a large badger and a rabbit. He held them up for the others
to see and let out a chortle. At the sound of his voice, they all looked up,
dropped their work and ran to see what he had. As they did this, the
commander looked up and walked over to him. He growled at him and grabbed at
the dead game. The soldier resisted at first, and the commander grabbed him
by the neck and threw him to the ground. The soldier scrambled back to his
feet and handed the fresh kill to the commander. He snatched the game, and
skewered it on a lance and laid it across the fire. Then he gave an order to
the orc recruit to keep turning the lance so the meat wouldn't burn.
Erwykk was disgusted. He liked the taste of rabbit stew, and badger was all
right if you were hungry enough. These stupid orcs were roasting the game
whole, without gutting or skinning it. The hair on each was quickly burned
off, and in no time both looked like black dripping globs. The recruit kept
turning the crude spit all the while, trying to do what the commander had
told him. He must have been doing it right, because the commander kept
coming over and looking, but he never said anything to the orc. Another
orc was busy adding things to the small pot of boiling water, and stirring it
with the blade of his dagger. It was almost dark now, and the most of the
light was coming from the cooking fire.
Erwykk watched as patiently as a dwarf could while all this was happening.
The only saving grace was that it was getting darker by the minute. He
watched as the soldiers ate their disgusting burned meat. They would grab a
piece of blackened flesh and tear it from the carcass. Not a single one
used knives or other utensils. They ate with great mouthfuls, and wiped the
grease from their chins on the back on their hands. Then, they passed around
a large bottle. As the bottle started its third pass around the group,
Erwykk could tell that they were beginning to feel the effect of a full
stomach and the drink. The sound from the camp had turned to a low growling,
it looked like they were talking about the day and telling stories.
This was the time Erwykk had been waiting for. He already had leaned his
pack against the oak trunk he was crouched behind. It'll be fine there, he
thought. He reached inside a side pocket and pulled out a helm. It fit
snugly as he pulled it over his headand securely tied the straps under his
chin. As the helm settled into place, he could feel dwarven rage rising in
his veins. His hatred of orcs was building. He lifted his double bladed ax
from a loop on his belt and tied the wrist strap around his right hand.
Although he would have a good grip on it, he wasn't taking any chances in
getting it knocked out of his hand. Then he stood up, straightened his
tunic, and bolted toward the camp fifty yards away.
He charged into their camp screaming and swinging his ax overhead. He could
clearly see where they all were sitting. The commander was to the right side
of the fire next to another large orc. On the far side of the fire was the
orc recruit. To the left were three standard soldiers, and directly in
front of him was the sixth one, sitting with his back to Erwykk.
The dwarven battle cry caught the orcs off guard. There hadn't encountered
any dwarfs in the forest on their patrols during the last three weeks, nor
had they heard about any.
This patrol was part of a larger army systematically moving through the
forest. The orc chieftains wanted the High Forest land for their own, and
were fiercely determined to kill or drive out all others. Their campaign had
met little resistance at first, and they had swept through vast reaches. But
in the last weeks, bands of elves had mounted counter attacks and had retaken
parts of the forest. Now the orcs were trying to scout out and eliminate
these elven bands.
The orcs were briefly stunned as the dwarf howled and charged the campsite.
They all started to stand, look for weapons, and turn toward the sound. All
of them were trying to move, but the food and drink were slowing their
reflexes. The soldier with his back to Erwykk had barely turned to face the
dwarf, when he was upon him. He swung his ax at the orc's head. The blade
cleanly split the orc's helmet and crushed into his skull. The orc never
knew what happened as he crashed on the ground.
Erwykk pulled his ax out of the first orc's skull and braced himself. The
commander and the large orc were rushing him. They had grabbed nearby
halberds and intended to hold him back before running him through. But his
quickness and strength were too much for them. He knocked the polearm from
the commander's grip and then brought the ax around in a deadly arc. He
caught them both in the mid section, leaving a deep gash through each of
their rusty breast plates and stomachs. They howled and doubled over in pain
as their stomachs spilled out on the ground, and they fell dying.
The other three soldiers had rushed to their packs and grabbed weapons. They
attacked, but they were no match for dwarven rage and hatred. It was quickly
over and the three were dead, covered with their blood. So much for the
soldiers, Erwykk thought. He was breathing hard, but then he saw the
recruit. He had scurried to his pack and armed himself with his short sword
and shield. He was summoning his courage to charge, but he kept remembering
how quickly the commander and his second had been killed. As he
looked at him, the dwarf grinned showing his gritty, stained teeth. Then he
made his run at the dwarf, but at that instant Erwykk kicked out the fire and
disappeared behind a tree trunk. The woods suddenly fell dark as the light
was gone.
"Now me 'ave some sport," Erwykk thought. His eyes quickly adjusted to the
darkness and he could see the orc trying to locate him. He would be no match
for his sight on this night. It was clear and the stars could easily be seen
through the branches and limbs of the leafless tress. There was enough light
for his eyes, but not for the orc's. He could easily kill him, but instead
he would toy with him. He moved quietly from tree to tree until he was
behind the orc. He was about ten feet from him, and he could hear him
breathing. Erwykk reached under his tunic and brought out a small dagger.
He aimed at the leg of the orc and let it fly. The orc shrieked in pain as
the dagger hit its mark. The orc then stumbled away from the campsite.
Erwykk stalked him for the next two hours. He was hit over and over with
daggers and stones that came from nowhere. He herded the orc in a wide
circle around the campsite, and then guided him back to it. The orc was
bloody from the dagger wounds and badly bruised by the stones. His uniform
was torn and his skin deeply scratched and scraped from where he had run into
thorns and stickers. He was exhausted and barely able to stand and walk,
when he finally reentered the campsite. He stumbled over two of the
bodies and collapsed on the ground next to a tree trunk.
Then Erwykk walked into the small clearing, knelt by the smoldering fire and
re-lit it.
Soon the campfire was giving enough light for the orc to see him. He tried
to stand and face his hunter. He was going to make one last stand against
this beast, but first he needed to get weapons. He had carelessly dropped
his somewhere in the forest. The branches and thorns had torn and ripped his
hands, and he had lost his sword and shield long ago. But then, the dwarf
just turned and ducked behind a tree, and was gone. The orc recruit was
alone in the campsite. He looked at where the dwarf had been, then he heard
the first wolf howl.
Erwykk had decided not to kill the orc. He had rummaged through the packs
and had taken or destroyed anything of value or use. He would have no food,
no water, and no weapons. The forest wolves would soon catch the scent of
the battle, and would be there. They would not enter the clearing at first,
because of the campfire. Their presence would bring others to the camp.
Once there were many, the boldest would inch into the camp and tear at one of
the bodies. It wouldn't take long for the wolves to finish the orcs
suitably.
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The Duergar - Part 2
(Submitted by: Loraque)
The victory and orc hunt had greatly satisfied Erwykk.
He awoke the next morning very content with himself. The dawn was starting
out just like the previous mornings. There was frost on the fallen leaves
and the air was exceptionally clear. As the sun rose higher in the sky it
reached more of the forest floor, and warmed all that it touched. The day
was going to be warm again.
Erwykk was hoping to pick up the trail from the orc patrol. He thought that
if he back tracked their trail, he might be able to find another patrol or
maybe the main complement. This would be good,he thought. Orcs only lived
to be killed by Duergar like himself.
He stored his gear in his pack. He had carefully placed his helm back in its
pouch and tied it on a loop on the side of his pack. He had thought about
wearing it during the day, but realized that it might be several hours before
he found the rest of the orcs. He knew if he could surprise the orcs in the
bright sunlight, they would be hampered in their fighting and he would have
an easy time killing them. He left his head uncovered for the present. The
wind was blowing, but his dark hair was too dirty and matted to move with it.
Erwykk picked up his small pack and fit it on his shoulders. He had taken
off his tunic and put on a dark gray, oversized shirt in its place. This
shirt would hide his plate mail from the sun's rays and would keep a
reflection from revealing his presence. He looked down and checked his ax
hanging from a belt loop. Everything was in place, and he was ready.
He had made his camp about a hundred yards or so to the east of the small
spring where he saw the young orc filling the water skins. There were two
low rises between him and the spring, and in only a short time he was there.
As he approached the spring, he looked carefully at the ground. Tracking was
not something he was very skilled at, but the only markings he could see came
from the orc's bootprints. There hadn't been any animals visit the spring
during the night. Maybe the wolves had frightened away any deer or other
game, or maybe the orcs had killed or driven them all out.
Erwykk knelt down on the moist ground beside the spring and rinsed his hands
in the cold water. They
were still caked with orc blood from the night before, and he rubbed them
together to cleanse them. Then he formed a cup with his hands and splashed
his face and beard. The water helped soften the crust in the whiskers around
his mouth, and he raked out the dried mucus and sputum with his fingers.
With that meager grooming done, if one could call it that, he swung his pack
around and dug out a half
empty water flask. He pulled the stopper from its neck and stuck his nose in
it and sniffed. The spring
water was better than what was inside the flask. So he emptied the flask and
refilled it in the spring.
There, he was finished at this place. He had enough water to last for three
days, if need be, and it was
good water too. Spring water from the High Forest was almost as good as the
water found in his home
under the Greypeaks. But nothing could really replace that.
With that thought, he picked up his pack and retraced the steps the orc had
taken back to his camp. When he got close, say within a hundred yards, he
started to move more quietly. He expected the wolves, which had entered the
camp after the battle, to be gone by now. But he wasn't going to take any
chances. So, he moved quietly from tree to tree, trying make as little
sound as possible. Each time he got a glimpse of the camp, he couldn't see
any movement. The wolves must be gone.
Finally, Erwykk was at the edge of the small clearing where the camp was.
The rocks the orcs had shoved together to make a cooking fire were still in
place, and the fire was still smoldering from the night before. On the
ground beside the closest rock there was a broken and bent pot. All about
the campsite, there were empty packs with their contents strewn everywhere.
As Erwykk walked into the site, he could see where the orc bodies had fallen.
The wolves had come in during the night and dragged the bodies into the
forest. He thought he could see the place where the last orc had put up a
futile fight against the wolves, but his body was not here either.
He walked around and kicked at the packs. They all seemed empty. But the
largest one, and this one he thought must have belonged to the patrol
commander didn't yield as readily as the others. He reached down and picked
up the pack. The backing seemed stiffer that the others, and when he looked
more closely he noticed a flap covering the opening of a pocket. Inside the
pocket, he found a flat leather bound book. "Me look at dis later," he
thought as he laid it down beside his pack.
Now came the hard part. From which direction had these orcs come? He
thought, and then realized that they must have known about the spring. He
had not seen any signs of them, except for the young orc, in that area. This
meant they hadn't come to that spring before they made camp. They camped
close to the spring, and had sent out the young orc to fill the water skins.
They must have known the lay of this part of the forest.
Then he remembered the book. He knelt down and opened it. It looked to be a
daily log book and the
pages contained crude sketches of different parts of the High Forest. But
which map was for this area? By eliminating one page, and then another,
Erwykk was able to settle on one final crude map that had to be this area.
The spring was marked on it, and off in the right direction, following the
right terrain, was this campsite. He could read it! The patrol had come
from the north. There would be three streams to cross, but he knew where a
bigger party of orcs should be camped. With that, he put the book back in
his pack, and struck out in a northerly direction..
In about an hour of steady walking, Erwykk came to the first stream marked on
the map. The distances seemed about right, and the hills looked to be marked
correctly. This was going well, he thought. He waded through the shallow
water and strided up the next hill. The sun was nearing the high point of
the day when he reached the third crest. He judged he was about half way to
the next stream.
Looking around, all the dwarf could see were the bare forest trees. He was
on a hill top and the land
sloped gently down on all the sides. In the distance he thought he could
make out the rises of the next hills, but the distance and the trees made it
hard to be sure. He was just setting his pack down to get out his water
flask, when he thought he heard a faint yell. He picked up his pack and
headed toward the northeast where the sound appeared to come from.
He jogged down the hill, dodging the trees, and then up the next. The sound
was louder. Then it became unmistakable. It was orc battle cries.
Erwykk started to run up the next hill, getting still closer to sound. He
dodged around the trees in his way. The sound grew louder and he ran faster.
He topped the second hill, and then charged down the slope and sprinted
toward the top of the next.
This must be a great battle he thought, and he had to get there.
Just then he was there.
The top of the third rise overlooked a wide stream bed. It was fairly dry
now, and only a trickle of water
was flowing in the stoney bed. The battle was below him. Rather it had been
there. The ground along the stream bed had been blackened and there were
about fifteen or twenty orc bodies lying there. There all wore the same
leather armor with dark orange insignia the orcs from the night before had
worn. This must be part of the orc army he was looking for. But what had
happened to the battle. These orcs had been burned and killed by fire, but
who or what had done this?
Just as he started down into the dry bed, a muffled noise could be heard from
further upstream. That way!
His heart pounded with excitement and Erwykk was off and running again, this
time toward the northwest, following the stream.
The stream bed snaked between the hills and made two changes in direction.
One was back to the north, and the second was to the east. As he round the
last bend, he came upon more orc bodies. About twenty or so, and this time
the ground was smoking from where fire had scorched everything. There had
been no cover for the orcs here. Whoever, or whatever was doing this was a
shrewd fighter, he thought. They were leading the orcs into exposed areas
and then engulfing them with flames. Then Erwykk realized he was exposed,
too. This made him shudder. He had been careless in his zeal to get to the
battle. He needed to get to the higher ground on the hillsides. The trees
would offer protection and concealment.
He moved up the hillside, but all the while keeping the stream bed in his
sight. Now he was in the trees, and running again. He could hear battle
cries, and he pressed on. As he followed the contour of the hill, it bent to
the right, and then abruptly stopped.
He was on top of a steep bank overlooking the dry stream bed. Fifty feet
farther upstream the stream
curved back to the left and he could see the entire battle. A single female
elf was fighting about fifty or so orcs. She was backed against the steep
bank and holding her own against the orcs. Already there were five dead ones
at her feet; and, there were several other orc bodies lying in the stream.
The elf had been chased by the orcs, and she had taken up this defensive
position to make her stand. Her sword was moving faster than anything Erwykk
had ever seen. The blade was a bluish blur, as the warrior swept the sword
from left to right and then curved it back. With every pass, two or three
more orcs buckled over and fell. The elf was slaughtering the orcs faster
than Erwykk could count. He was enthralled by the sight of the sword. "I
gots to git me dat sword," the Duergar thought.
He was about to jump into the fray when five orcs appeared on the bank behind
the elf. They had come
from over the hill and were ready to jump down on her. The main body of orcs
saw this and charged the
elf warrior. In only a few seconds, it was over and the elf warrior lay
motionless on the ground.
The twenty or so remaining orcs hollered and snarled, but then backed up when
a chieftain appeared. He had been there all the time, in the background and
not taking part in the battle. He walked over to where the elf laid, and
grabbed her long brown hair and held up her head. Then he growled something
to the two of the orcs. They quickly produced bindings, and tied the arms
and legs of the warrior.
Erwykk was now more curious than he had been in a very long time. What was
going on? The elf must not be dead, he thought, but why hadn't the orcs
killed her? This was unusual in his experience. He had seen the remains of
other battles orcs had with elves. The orcs had always butchered the dead
elves, making sure of their death.
This was different. For some reason the orcs wanted this elf kept alive. He
watched as the orcs tied the elf's arms and legs to a pole. Her head was
dangling limp while all this was happening. She must have taken a wicked
blow, Erwykk thought. But then he was able to see the blood and the gash on
the right side of her head.
While the orcs were doing this the chieftain was scrounging and digging in
the elf's pack. The chieftain
had been quick to pick up the elf's pack, but he had not yet touched the her
sword. He would rummage in the pack, pull something out, look at it and
pitch it to the side, where it landed among the rocks of the stream bed.
Almost everything he pulled out he threw aside. He finally pulled a bag out
of the pack, looked inside, and dumped whatever was in it on the ground.
Then he used the bag to pick up the sword. He was acting as if the sword was
hot to the touch. He was always jerking his hand back as if the sword was
burning him. After several tries, he had worked the sword into the bag. He
tied the bag shut and stuffed it under his belt.
With that done, the chieftain barked an order at the other orcs. Two of them
grabbed the pole with the elf tied to it, put it on their shoulders, and
marched off downstream with the others.
During this time, Erwykk had inched away from the bank and found better
concealment in the trees. He was watching the orcs leave, and he was
thinking about sneaking up behind them and killing them two or three at a
time. They would never know who was hunting them until most of them were
dead. This would be good, and would be a fitting reward for all them, he
thought. He was about to move down the hill to the stream bed, but he waited
a second too long. He had been so intent on watching scene below him, he
hadn't seen the ogre sneak up behind him. It was then that he noticed the
smell.
Ogres have an unmistakable odor, and this ogre was no exception as he smelled
like rancid milk. The
instant Erwykk noticed the stench, he ducked and turned and at that second
the ogre's club smacked the tree where his head had been. The dwarf
continued his motion into a tumble and avoided the second blow from the ogre.
Then he was on his feet and he dodged behind a tree.
This ogre was more than twice the size of Erwykk. His skin was a putrid
yellow and was covered with
brown warts. Dressed in ragged skins and hides, he looked more disgusting
than dangerous, and his eyes seemed to glow as he raised his club for the
next attack. The dwarf easily blocked this blow with his ax, and then
countered with his own swing. The ax blade found part of its mark. He cut
deeply through the hides and wounded the ogre on the left side. He howled
and surged forward on top of Erwykk. He didn't want to be part of any ogre's
stew, so Erwykk tried to hold his ax between him and the ogre. For a moment
it looked like the ogre was going to smother Erwykk, but then he twisted and
was able to roll out from under the ogre. As he rolled, he swung back with
his ax. This time he caught the ogre in the back. This blow didn't cut him
as the skins and hides stopped the blade, but it stunned him.
Erwykk scrambled to his feet and brought his ax up and around as the ogre was
starting to stand up. This time the blade caught him under the chin and slit
his neck in two. The ogre's head continued with the speed of the ax, and the
headless body stumbled to the ground.
The battle was over, and Erwykk was lucky to be alive. He had bested a
strong ogre, and hadn't suffered any injuries. He just looked at the
headless body while he caught his breath.
Then he remembered the orcs. He clambered down the hill to the stream to
follow the orcs and kill
them................
At that moment the dwarf's thoughts were jolted back to the road to Red
Larch. It was almost dark now and he could see the lights of the town about
a mile up the road. What had roused him from his thoughts was the sense that
he was being followed. He continued to walk along, keeping his pace. He
would turn his head slightly trying to get a glimpse behind him. He couldn't
see anything except the darkening countryside. There wasn't much to hide
behind along the road, as there was only an occasional tree or two along the
road.
He was approaching a solitary tree on the right side of the road. This tree
grew very close to the road, and as he passed it, he quickly ducked behind
the trunk. He moved to the far side of the trunk and peered back down the
road. It was now totally dark, save for the beginnings of a crescent moon in
the western sky. The valley had become speckled with rolling hills during
the last several miles, and the road had been curving back and forth between
the small hills. He could see several sections of the road as it wandered in
and out from behind the hills.
As he looked he thought he saw a figure emerge from behind one of the hills
back down the road. In the dark, it was just a gray silhouette against the
blacker hills and grasslands. But Erwykk thought it looked like an elf. The
figure wasn't large enough to be human, and it didn't walk like a dwarf.
Then the figure stopped. At that instant Erwykk had the feeling the figure
had seen his hiding place
behind the tree trunk. "Hrumph," he halfway snorted his disgust, but as he
made the sound, the silhouette seemed to fade into the shadows.
With that the Dwarf turned and resumed his pace back up the road. He was
walking faster than before. It's not that he was afraid of elves. It's just
that he didn't like 'em very much. They were much too clean and serious
about the things he didn't care about. He walked on, rubbing the scar on his
cheek. It had started to itch. Most of the time he forgot the old wound. But
now it was on his mind again.
He soon reached the southern gate into Red Larch. He walked up and pounded
on it. In a few seconds, a gatekeeper opened a small port cut into the
wooden door, looked down at him, and snapped, "What do you want, Dwarf?"
"Me wants a room for da night, sir. Me can pay." Erwykk knew how to speak
to humans when he needed to get them to give him favors, like letting him
into their towns when they should know better.
The gatekeeper unlocked the wooden gate, and swung it part way open. "Come
on in. Be quick about it." And with that the dwarf walked into Red Larch.
"Here, Arron, take this here Dwarf to the inn. And make sure he don't get
lost. And don't spend yer time gabbin' or stoppin' fer a drink. You come
right back."
The gate swung shut behind Erwykk and then he saw the guard the gatekeeper
had been talking to. The guard was wearing leather and carrying a short
sword. He had a lantern, and he motioned at Erwykk to follow him. He then
headed off around the corner to the inn. It was only a couple of buildings
away, but the guard made sure Erwykk was escorted all the way to the inn and
inside before he returned to his post at the gate.
DARKSTAR
The Coming Storm - Part III
(Submitted by: FrankSense)
I could feel the day's deposit of grit and dirt between my shoes and the
cobblestones as I sauntered away from the inn. The din from the place faded
and the slight crunching of my footsteps was soon all I heard. The nearby
waterfront was unexpectedly quiet for early evening at this time of year. I
noted a slight chill in the air. That would bring fog into the city on the
otherwise clear night.
I cast my mind's thoughts to search a little further around my nearby
vicinity. I found that familiar presence I was looking for. "You're out
early, Master," my mind received the silent message.
"I'm somewhat surprised you're even here," I responded in my thoughts. "It's
barely dark out! You're taking too much of a risk with your small life."
"No one would know I'm here, unless they know about me in the first place,"
came the reply. "You worry too much, dark one."
"I know, I know," I returned. "I never seem to see things from a positive
side. You know that by now." I started heading out to the end of the pier.
The first wafts of incoming fog hit my face. I adjusted my gray cloak and
then continued moving on out to the end of the pier. A muffled sound from my
footsteps echoed off the water below.
After a brief pause to think, I sent, "If you are fortunate to find out
anything about a young lad named Pip, I'd appreciate it. I came in the gate
with him, a young farm boy, but he didn't act right." As I sent those words
I also formed a mental picture and forwarded that too. "I lost him in the
gardens", I concluded.
There was no immediate response. Then, "Is that all?" I finally received.
"Yes. It's going to be foggy and we won't be able to play for food. You'll
need to fend for yourself. But", I warned, "make sure you are not seen or
it'll be your hide!"
Silence.
"Uhm, Sorry 'bout the pun," I mentally apologized.
"Master!" I received urgently and loudly in my mind, "Nine men, maybe more
are headed towards the pier!"
"Are you in a safe spot?" I transmitted defensively.
"I'm fine," came the silent response. "They're almost to the waterfront
now. More of them than I first thought!"
I could hear the beat of marching footsteps approaching the area. I told
myself that they were probably going to pass by and continue on down the
waterfront, but by the time I hoped that would happen, it became apparent
they were headed straight my way!
"They are headed for you, Master?" I sensed in my mind.
"Yes, I think they are," I returned. I had an uneasy feeling about this.
"Hold fast!" I added. I made up my mind to remain calm in appearance and
remain standing near the end of the pier where I was. That was because as
they neared I could hear the sound of approaching chain mail. These weren't
thieves or robbers. These were trained armed men.
They weren't bearing torches but headed straight down the pier as if drawn to
me. I could see them now, Royal Guardsmen. The front three approached as
the rest of the group halted. They came forward and halted two sword lengths
from me.
One nearest looked at me and spoke, "Are you Graymantle?"
"Yes, I am," I replied. "Do you have business with me?"
No answer. The three then stepped back and the whole guard snapped to
attention from some unheard command. I could now see their shields had a
sideways "M", with points to the right connecting three different snowflakes;
all encircled by silver and blue haloes - The Royal Badge of the City. These
were the Neverwinter Nine!
"Welcome back to the City of Skilled Hands, Graymantle," a friendly voice
spoke. "Please be at ease. Our torchless approach has been done for a
reason."
I recognized the voice. "Lord Nasher Alagondar, this is indeed an . .
.interesting meeting," I mumbled as I bowed. "I don't quite know what to
think," I blurted out somewhat relievedly. "Your bodyguard gave me a real
start!"
"These are, as you have said, 'interesting' times," Lord Nasher responded.
"Please do be at ease," he emphasized. The speaker stepped forward revealing
his balding regalness. "I know we've only met occasionally. You have helped
Neverwinter before, even though you may not have known."
"Thank you for the compliment. I don't know what to say," I responded not
knowing where this conversation was leading.
"It is not my style to go torchless through my own City streets but time is
of the essence. I will get to the point," he paused. "I need your services
and have come to you away from the usual city crowd and prying eyes."
"I am flattered, Sir. I have heard of your summoning of the Council of War
Wizards. I would be most honored to help out."
"I think you have jumped to the wrong conclusion though," Lord Nasher
interrupted. "You are not being summoned to serve on the Council. No! I
have a more important task for you."
My face must have revealed the disappointment I felt at not being made part
ofthe Council. I didn't know how to respond. I made no sound, just dropped
my jaw a little bit. Lord Nasher continued, "This assignment requires a
special person of your talents. One that is not tethered by the political
restraints of being a member of the Council. Why in my warrior days I would
have thought nothing of doing this myself."
"If what you say is true, what value can I be to you?" I queried.
"All I can say is you are the only person for the job. And, in addition, you
were personally requested for this task. It's not as simple as it will
sound. But you are indeed, the only one who can do this," he told me in a
serious tone.
What is this task? I began wondering in my mind.
"My time is short. You are needed to provide protection for a traveler to
assure he arrives at his destination. You are to prepare yourself and meet
him at the northeast gate in one hours time. A guard will escort you for a
short way. Then you will be on your own. The future of Neverwinter depends
on your success. The well being of Faerun depends upon your success. I know
you will not let us down."
I stood there dumbfounded.
"And now I must go. I am expected elsewhere." He paused, then added, "Say
hi to Lune. I think he's special." He smiled and turned away towards the
city.
"Aaieeee! He knows me!?" came a silent scream of exclamation.
"I will do my best," I responded into the growing fog. I stood there
listening to the dampened footsteps of Lord Nasher and the Neverwinter Nine
fading into the night. "You knew I wouldn't say no," I spoke aloud but more
to myself into the night.
"Well, this is another fine mess we've gotten into," I beamed. "Come, we've
a job to do."
Etiquette and Death
(Submitted by: Zarra Yorn)
Cast Of Characters (in order of rank)
******************************************
<<<Note>>> They are actual players in NWN.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ShyntIara- Matron Mother of the 1st House Faen Tlabbar
Phyrra-Matron Mother of the 2nd House Fey-Brance
Zarra Yorn- 1st Daughter of the 1st House
Angylynne-1st Daughter of the 1st House
Sarnoria- 2nd Daughter of the 1st House
Slakrom- Psionicist of the 1st House
Caeble- Weapons Master of the 1st House
GrayFlame- Patron of the 2nd House
Sentres- Soldier of the 1st House
Minosque-Soldier of the 1st House
*Azarin*-NPC
OOC- I have written this story for those of you who
have never had the opportunity to Role-Play with
Drow in NWN or are wondering how to go about it.
Hope you enjoy... ;>
Zarra
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Etiquette And Death
________________
It was late night, rolling thunder boomed in the distance,
no lights shone from Mataga's inn and within ebony creatures
stirred.
Throughout the inn, twin glowing orbs of red and violet
were the only light as the Drow conversed. All around they
watched, drank blood-wine and plotted as Zarra entered.
::: Zarra Greeted ShyntIara and Phyrra, the matrons of the
1st and 2nd Houses of Rilauven and her older sisters :::
"Vendui' Ultrin Ilharess, Vendui' Malla Ilharess."
(Greetings supreme Matron, Greetings honored Matron)
::: With deadly grace she curtsied deeply as she spoke :::
::: Taking her place at ShyntIara's right hand side and watching
protectively :::
After she entered, every male knelt and greeted her by
her proper title. Noting no disrespect, she motioned them
to stand. A beautiful male approached her and offered her a
crystalline goblet of the finest blood-wine, made from paladin
blood.
::: Holding up her hand :::
"GrayFlame dear, you know I do not drink in the
presence of my Ilharess or before battle." Zarra looked
the attractive male over as she smiled wickedly.
::: A male human enters the inn and bows :::
::: Everyone grows tense :::
::: Hands move to Weapons as glowing eyes narrow
with suspicion :::
::: Zarra and Sarnoria move protectively in front of
ShyntIara as Angilynne and GrayFlame move closer
to Phyrra :::
::: Invisible, Slakrom steps behind the human and probes
his mind :::
"Greetings, I am Azarin. It is an honor to meet thee."
::: Slakrom relays that there is no threat within him
and informs Zarra and ShyntIara :::
::: ShyntIara decides his fate :::
"Vendui' Rivvin (Greetings Human), what business do you
have with us?" Her words cold and emotionless as she sips
her blood-wine.
::: Azarin looks uneasy under her steel gaze :::
"Great one, I have been told that it is not uncommon
for Drow houses to recruit agents. I have many contacts
around the realms and I wish to work for your house."
His voice a bit shaky under the staring, calculating eyes
of the Drow.
::: ShyntIara turns to Caeble :::
"Finish this discussion with Azarin and decide whether
he will be a useful tool then report back to me." Her tone
naturally commanding.
::: Caeble bows :::
"Xas, Ultrin Ilharess " (Yes, Supreme Ilharess)
He speaks and departs with Azarin as ordered.
::: As they leave everyone returns to what they were doing :::
::: Minutes pass without incident :::
::: Suddenly the door slams open and
two burly humans barge in drunken and
screaming :::
::: In a lightning-like movement Zarra blasts the first flush
in the chest with black spell energy as GrayFlame tackles
the other :::
::: Instantly, they are overwhelmed by the Drow ::::
"Nail the conscious one outstretched in the doorway"
Zarra said, her voice showing irritation.
::: Sentres and Minosque nail him as ordered :::
::: Zarra cuts two slices in his back :::
Her hands reached into him through the two slits. His
organs were hot and sticky as she searched. The human
gurgled up blood as she grabbed his lungs. Pulling outward,
she withdrew the deflated sacks. Suddenly they filled with
air and inflated. Zarra's expert and practiced touch proved
successful as the human breathed through the organs now
on the outside of his body.
"He looks like a diseased angel" Zarra thought, seeing
the lungs as if they were wings.
::: Hunched over the other human GrayFlame looked to
Zarra :::
"He is dead Malla Yathrin, (Honored Priestess or First Daughter)
Do you wish me to dispose of him in the regular place?"
::: Zarra nodded her consent to GrayFlame :::
Unknown to any humans is the secret trap door in Mataga's
Inn where thousand of foolish human corpses lay.
::: Moving to the secret spot GrayFlame spoke an all to
familiar word :::
::: Powerful wards faded revealing the pit :::
GrayFlame casually tossed the body into the pit and
returned to Phyrra's side.
:: Half an hour later the thud of the copse hitting rotten
flesh sounded faintly throughout Mataga's Inn :::
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
Power
(Submitted by: KEF Kings)
It was a gorgeous Neverwinter morning as KEF Kings emerged from the sewers.
The sunlit blue sky was sparsely populated with cottony clouds and echoed
Kings'bright mood. He had been called back early from his patrols by a
messenger. The messenger had relayed to him that his superior Sir Bardolf
had requested an audience with him at the keep. As he made his way through
the throngs of people in the market, citizens called his name with words of
praise and thankfulness for what the Knights of the Eternal Flame had done in
the past year to purge evil from the Realms. He returned their smiles and
patted their young children's heads as he passed by. Soon the great doors of
the KEF keep loomed in front of him as the portcullis was raised, sounding
Kings arrival. As the great doors swung out, he was suprised to see Sir
Bardolf there to greet him. He had a look of urgency on his face and a half
dozen squires and retainers around him fidgeted nervously as well.
'Kings, Kings ...', Sir Bardolf spoke quickly. 'Walk with me and I shall
tell ye of a dark cloud that has settled on our order.' Bardolf placed his
hand on the young knights' shoulder as they strolled down the entry
courtyard. 'It seems that the drow witch Mavralyn has captured two of our
knights somewhere in the woods. KEFCamarus and KEFKaitlyn's warhorses both
came back riderless a few days ago. We have heard no word from them. Our
priests have managed to deduce that she has placed some sort of collar around
their necks with which to enslave them. These are dark times indeed. Will
ye avenge them holy warrior?' KEF Kings turned to face the venerable Sir
Bardolf and seeing the pain and suffering in his superior's eyes he motioned
to one of the retainers to come forth. 'Give haste young man and deliver to
my squires this message. I ride forth in one hour. Have them ready my
warhorse and their own to escort me to the wood's edge. I shall avenge our
collared brother and sister. This is indeed a heinous crime and I, as a
knight of Tyr, would rather see my brother and sister die by my sword than
live as slaves.' Bardolf's pained face broke into a thin smile as he gave the
young lord Tyr's blessing. Within the hour KEF Kings' escort had assembled
in the garrison, and with the final blessings of the priests of Tyr they had
thundered out of the keep, headed towards the border town of Longsaddle,
where the riderless horses of his bretheren had been found. As Kings turned
back to catch a glimpse of his beloved keep, he saw the solitary figure of
Sir Bardolf atop one of battlements, no doubt watching until they vanished
from sight.
There was not much news in Longsaddle. The missing knights' horses had
headed straight for Triboar Inn, no one had seen anything else in or near the
woods during the past few days. Not that Kings expected any different, he
knew that the Drow were sly and elusive, travelling only at night. KEF Kings
approached the edge of the woods and dismissed his retainers. 'I go on alone
from here, young squires', he said from atop his horse. 'Wait for me at the
inn, I shall return shortly after sunset.' With that said, Kings
signalled to the gate guard to open the wooden door separating the edge of
Longsaddle from the wild woods that lay beyond. He stepped into an eerily
quiet wood as he lead his warhorse through the gate. His tactics were
simple. He would ride on the main path, hopefully drawing out his enemy
instead of having to search for them.
No sooner had he turned the first corner headed north by the infamous Troll
bridge, than two Drow stepped out of the woods, almost startling him. He
bared a foot of steel from his scabbard as the Drow raised the palms of their
hands as a sign of peace. His eyes scanned the woods, he saw no other Drow
and understood these to be messengers. The taller stepped foward and spoke
in broken common tongue, 'You wish combat upon our Ilharess Mavralyn
understand we?' 'Aye', responded KEF Kings gruffly, leaving the steel of his
sword exposed, 'Lead me to her, darklings.' The two drow turned their backs
to the knight and headed further north. Kings spurred his horse into a
slight trot to keep pace with the elves before him. In but a few moments and
switches of the path, the elves pulled to the side and motioned him foward
with sweeping gestures of their hands. He hesitantly passed them, fearing
ambush but noticing a clearing ahead. He knew inside that here is where
Mavralyn would make her stand. He dismounted his horse and secured its
reins, gently touching its nose so it knew to remain in place unless trouble
arose.
His eyes searched back and forth across the clearing which was dotted with
sparsely with trees. The two Drow messengers had disappeared into the woods.
His scanning eyes then caught a glint of metal. Pinpointing it was difficult
as the last rays of the sun dipped down below the tree line. He spotted it.
It was a metal brooch such as that which one would fasten a cloak and it was
attached to something moving. The moving form noticed his gaze and stopped.
With a pause it stepped into view roughly a stone's throw
ahead of him. It was taller than the Drow messengers he had met, a good half
foot or so taller. Dusk had made things quite difficult to see. As his eyes
focused on the dark form he discerned it was female, dark purple robes
flowing around its shapely form. Its ebony skin made his stomach queasy as
it moved, fluidlike towards him. She was accelerating fast and Kings knew
that the time had come. It was time to throw down. He unsheathed his sword
with lightening speed and planted his feet firmly on the ground. Grasping
the hilt with both hands, he waited to meet the imprisoner of his guildmates.
With a haughty
shriek the evil Drow named Mavralyn was upon him.
Purple magics danced from her fingers as she circled KEF Kings. They bounced
harmlessly off the warded knight, pooling in the ground around his feet.
Kings just stared at the entity before him, watching her move, noticing her
reactions to his slight movements. Then he struck. The Drow was caught off
guard. With a strong foward movement he spun at the last moment, and was
glad when his blade met flesh. Mavralyn let out an unearthly howl as Kings
ripped the sword edge through her right arm, she had run right into his spin
move. She distanced herself from the knight, her arm hanging useless at her
side, ebony white bone showing through and contrasting with her dark, broken
flesh. Her pained face turned into rage as she steathily backed away from
Kings. He pursued her like a hunter would a wounded animal, an wild savagery
now possessing him.
She had retreated quite a distance when Kings started to feel that he was
being lured into a trap. Just at that second, she disappeared amongst a
clump of trees, once more spells flying from the fingertips of her one usable
arm. Fire and lightening rained down on the knight as he approached her.
His own arm had taken the brunt of a lightening bolt and now twitched in
pain. He must press her now or lose the advantage. As he hacked his way
into the clump of trees, he could see the fear in the Drow's eyes. He could
feel the
muscles in his back and arms growning to gigantic proportions as he delivered
forceful blows upon the wounded, tree hugging Drow. Just as a small sapling
fell to his sword stroke, the evil Mavralyn slipped on a patch of loose
ground. Kings sore and bruised body leaped at the opportunity and he was
rewarded with sickening crunch of bone as he shattered both of the drow's
femurs with an incredible strike. As the life blood of the Drow spilled on
the ground, she turned on her side and smiled wickedly at the knight, his
chest heaving from exhaustion and pain. He would finish her now but wondered
curiously at her smile. Just then he realized it had been a distraction.
'Noooooooooooooooooooooooo' he screamed as he leaped towards her. She
loosed her good hand from her robes and shot a bolt of purple magic straight
at the knight. He landed with a thud at her feet, frozen in place. He had
been held!
'Quickly my children,' she whispered to the trees, 'bring me the collar.'
With that the two drow that he had followed earlier appeared from the trees.
One held a black leather collar. 'Help me stand,' she said pained. One of
the drow began weaving magic around Mavralyn's broken legs. A healer, he
thought. She smiled evilly through pain as she was helped to her feet.
Kings thought he was going to get sick as she fastened the collar around his
neck. He was shocked when the evil drow witch removed his holding spell
with the wave of her hand. He saw this as a god given opportunity and leaped
at the witch. He gasped and fell to the ground. Suddenly his skin burned
and prickled as if he had been rolled in stinging nettles, from the soles of
his feet to his scalp. He tossed his head as the burning sensation
increased. Quivering, he gritted his teeth. His nails dug into his palms as
pain was inflicted upon him. Instantly the pain was gone.
'Such is the power I now command slave!,' the evil Mavralyn laughed
haughtily. "I can inflict pain upon you when I want and how severe I want.
You will have no possessions. You are mine!', she giggled wickedly as she
grasped the knights' face between her hands and looked into his eyes. The
last thought the knight had before slipping into unconsciousness was that his
horse would have made it back to Triboar by now. It would be riderless ...
Ode to a Guild
(Submitted by: JChou30672)
Friends are real good
But they come and go fast
Your guild members however, they last and they last
They come when you call
To aid and to fight
With them they bring, very much might
They come wielding swords
They run hither pell mell
And last but not least they come tossing a spell
So heed my here words
For they do be all true
And you guild family will come to protect you
Learning New Ways
(Submitted by: Starrbolt)
Quel re, mellonrim! (Which is elvish for, "Good day, friends!") Let me
share with you an interesting experience. Though I be but a humble, nomadic,
high elf, perhaps you may find something of value in my tale.
One eve, not long after I first came to the Neverwinter realms, I was
adventuring alone in Triboar, trying to complete the quest for the Kraken
letter. However, my skills at that time were not equal to the task, as the
beholders lurking in Triboar Under consistently denied me the quest prize.
While resting at the Triboar Inn to heal wounds from my most recent failure,
I met an elven sorceress named BlazeRose.
She was a striking figure: statuesque, with braided, black hair, and
clad in an elegant, dark-blue and deep-red gown. How ornate and lovely she
was, and so different from me--with my pale skin, black hair, and green eyes,
and simple green tunic and leggings over enchanted elfin chain mail.
Intrigued, I approached, greeted her, and introduced myself. My
exuberance manifested itself in singing and dancing, as I climbed to the
rafters of the inn, delighted at meeting an elven cousin. Her reaction was
surprisingly subdued, though polite. Ah, well, I am a silly one--carefree
and pleasure bent--so I scampered down from the rafters and took a seat at
her table.
During the ensuing conversation, I sensed that BlazeRose was more somber
than most elves. After relating to her my difficulty in completing the
Kraken letter quest, she graciously explained how to do the sword dance--an
esoteric means for fighters to entrance beholders and slay them during melee.
Alas, being told how to do the dance and actually doing it are two
different things. Perhaps out of ennui, BlazeRose agreed to lead me into the
dungeon beneath Triboar and demonstrate the sword dance in combat against the
evil eye tyrants, so that I might learn.
Along the way, BlazeRose exhibited formidable prowess in dispatching
displacer beasts, cyclopskins, and stirges, and then we slipped through a
secret door and descended through a dark tunnel. However, upon entering the
foul, fetid temple underground, we were attacked by marauding trolls--and an
evil adventurer named Hag Helga. (In the region below Triboar, adventurers
often do battle with one another.) Helga was aptly named--an under-tall,
green-faced hag dressed in a tattered, soiled, black dress with greasy,
stringy, black hair. Worst of all was her shrill, shrieking, cackling laugh.
Helga entered the battle and cast Hold Monsters at me. Thankfully, my
magical wardings saved me from her spell. Then BlazeRose slew the trolls,
ending the threat, and Helga retreated in the ensuing calm.
"Hmm..." BlazeRose murmured, pondering our situation. She led us
onward, toward the doorway before our ultimate goal--the beholders. However,
lurking in front of the doorway was Hag Helga, still splitting the air with
her evil cackle. "You can't get out of here without passing by me," Helga
taunted.
BlazeRose and I conferred via ESP. "She sounds evil," I said, "and I
think she attacked me back there!"
"Yes," BlazeRose agreed coolly. Then Blaze said out loud, in a
pleasant, winning voice, "Why not go with us, Helga?"
"Hahahahahah!" Helga laughed, "Me? With goodies like you?
Hahahahahah!"
I was alarmed by BlazeRose's invitation to Helga. Surely we would be
forced to fight the evil hag. Was Blaze's invitation a ruse? "How can we
trust Helga?" I ESPed BlazeRose.
"Let's see," Blaze replied. "I'm no goodie," BlazeRose said to Helga.
"No?" the gnomish witch asked, interested. "Then are you evil?"
"I'm not evil, either," said Blaze. Indeed, BlazeRose had the bearing
of a person who viewed the world from a truly neutral perspective.
"Hm, well," Helga stammered, "I like you better now! Hahahahahah!"
"Then we can forget that earlier unpleasantness, and go together,"
BlazeRose stated soothingly.
"All right," Helga agreed, smiling contentedly.
BlazeRose stepped next to Helga, and I followed. "My, you are a short
one!" Blaze said of Helga, smiling.
"Humph," the hag replied.
Blaze added, "Your appearance needs help, dear. Some make-up and hair
styling?"
Helga laughed and joked, "Mirrors break when I use them!" At least, I
think Hag Helga was joking--maybe not!
Listening in silence, I was amazed at how these two, disparate women
were chatting like fast friends. However, perhaps the pleasantries went on
too long, because suddenly another pack of trolls attacked. All three of us
were under spells of invisibility, so BlazeRose and Hag Helga moved away from
the trolls unseen. But, the smelly beasts surrounded me, and I was forced to
fight. "You ladies are more skillful than I," I conceded, resigning myself
to battle. To my surprise, Helga stepped up to my rescue! She cast a mighty
Fireball, which incinerated many of the trolls--and, thankfully, missed me!
The trolls were no match for our combined might, and then we advanced to
engage the beholders.
BlazeRose mesmerized not only the beholders but also Helga and me as she
twirled in the intricate patterns of her sword dance. "You dance divinely,"
I complimented BlazeRose. As for Hag Helga, she chattered on merrily,
clearly delighted with our company. While the beholders fell, all three of
us joked comfortably with one another. After collecting the Kraken letter
with the squid emblem, BlazeRose and I bid Helga fare well and returned to
the surface.
Upon returning to the Triboar Inn, I said to Blaze, "So, you made an
ally of old Helga, eh?" shaking my head. "Never thought I'd see that!"
After reflecting for a moment, I added, "I must learn your ways."
BlazeRose looked at me and replied, "Everyone has their own ways."
"Yes," I agreed, "but I have scars to show that mine aren't working!"
Blaze told me that she had to retire for the evening--no doubt for her
reverie--and excused herself. I thanked BlazeRose for helping me, and,
feeling a wave of affection for her, impetuously hugged her good-bye.
"Good night, friend," Blaze said. From her tone and stance, I
understood she was indicating, "We are friends--nothing more."
I smiled and waved, watching BlazeRose take her leave. Then, sitting
alone in the inns dining hall and sipping Elverquisst wine, I wondered, as I
would continue to do in the following days, why is she so neutral, and
somber, and alone?
Since that time, I think I have learned some of BlazeRose's ways. As
Blaze did with Hag Helga, I've found that a bit of finesse and quick-thinking
often helps when dealing with evil persons in the realms. Usually, I employ
a bit of humor in response to baiting from evils--this tactic has worked well
for me. Besides, it's fun to outwit the simple, evil ones!
If you meet BlazeRose, greet her warmly. She is a strong and steadfast
companion and a wise and savvy adventurer.
Who knows? Maybe even BlazeRose can learn new ways. One day, perhaps I
shall persuade her to join in a song and dance from the rafters! Hehe!
City of Doors
(Submitted by: Lrd Xyrm)
Sigil was the City of Doors, the Center of the Planes, the Sun of the
Universe. It connected every plane to a central point. Millions of species
of animal and mutated
humans walked throughout the streets, which were lined by small shops and
dwellings.
It was the center of a the giant wheel of the Universe, connecting all in a
great city of
portals, most commonly referred to as "doors".
Mortal Fyr and Malkanium stepped out of the shadows and entered the
swirling crowd. Letting it carry them on for a few blocks, they kept their
faces low and let the light
glint off of their cloaks in a mysterious manner. Despite the chaos around
them, the two
Fact0ls remained calm and protected in their Globes of Invulnerability.
After the crowd had carried them for 7 city blocks, they stepped quietly
out of the river
of beings and onto the sidewalk. They stepped up to a locked door, with
three symbols
on the front. }{, ~{}~, and ][. It was the x0 Guildhouse in the city of
Sigil. There was one
everywhere, in each of the realms, but this was the most complex and widely
used of all.
Stepping up to the door, Mortal Fyr placed his hand over the symbol of
the Bleak
Cabal, and traced in the runes of magic. The symbol glowed with a gray
light. Then,
Malkanium traced over the symbol of the Lords of Shadow. It glowed ebony,
showing out
of the door in darkness, with the magic of the ancient Lords of Shadow, now
brought
back to the lands. Only one had the Key to the symbol in the center, and he
sat inside.
As the answering runes were traced on the inside of the door, the center
symbol ~{}~ glowed with a reddish hue. The door swung inwards, as Mortal
Fyr and Malkanium
stepped in, with the door closing behind them.
"Welcome, my friends, back to our home. May I get anything for you?,"
asked a smiling Lrd Xyrm, closing the book in which he had been writing in,
and placing it into a
small bag. "I am sure your voyage has been a long one, for I have had a
chance to catch
up on all of my work, which happens not often enough. As a scribe, one's
work tends to
pile up."
"I see you are well, my friend. I am glad you had a chance to finish
your work, for I
come with more for you. I don't think we need a drink..." Mortal Fyr
replied, and seeing
the shake of declination of Malkanium's head he continued. "We have
journeyed far, but
not far enough. It is time to return to the Forgotten Realms, to the planet
call Faerun"
"Yes," interjects Malkanium, "we must be leaving right away."
"Ahh..I see." Remarks Xyrm. "Then, let us be on our way." He gathered
up his
belongings, and placed them into his bag. Giving final instructions to his
small group of
scribes and workers under his authority, he motioned to Mal and Fyr to follow
him. "This
way, this way."
The three walked to the very back of the Guildhouse, and Xyrm pulled out
a small key. At the same time the he placed it into the lock and turned it,
the three
intoned, "x0 will conquer, with the powers of the Factions and work of our
mages." The door clicked, and swung open upon hinges of magic. Behind the
door was a vast staircase leading down into the heart of the Guildhouse.
Walking down the winding stairs, the musty smells of the average
basement did not
exist, for the spells of magical protection reigned, and dust was not
allowed. Here was
where the Lord Scribe kept all of his ledgers and records, constantly
monitoring all of the
more important influences of the realms.
Grabbing his cloak off of his chair, Lrd Xyrm put it on, and was
instantly displaced.
Not noticing the all-too familiar difference, Xyrm opened a monstrous door.
Stepping
inside, the two Fact0ls followed silently.
The room was covered with runes of Power, and even those who could not
use the Art, the Magic, could feel it pulsing in the room. Closing the door,
Lrd Xyrm took his ring
off of his right ring finger, and, in perfect syncronation with Mortal Fyr
and Malkanium,
placed it into a small niche in the wall. All three chanted the words of
magic, and, as they chanted, the runes -one by one- began to glow with
infinite power. As the chanting
ended, all of the runes swirled in a chaotic pattern, lasting for what seemed
to be an
eternity.
After the runes stopped, and all was silent, each of the rulers of x0
took their rings
from the door, and placed them back upon their fingers. Xyrm stepped
forward, and
opened the door for the Fact0ls.
The Fact0ls stepped through the door, followed by Xyrm. Outside of the
doors were the cracked walls of the Sewers of Neverwinter. Closing the door
behind him, Lrd Xyrm
watched as it faded into the walls, appearing to be a dead end in the sewers.
But when
the Rings of x0 were placed upon it, it opened once again to the basement of
the
Guildhouse in Sigil.
"We have much work to do in this realm. We must gather our forces, and
prepare to kill in the name of x0. Let us be on our way." Mortal Fyr
chanted, and
traced runes into the air, and faded into nothingness with a blink of light.
"Good-bye, friend, Malkanium. Remember, we meet with our friends in
this realm tomorrow, in the Neverwinter Gardens." Lrd Xyrm spoke in a soft
voice, detaching his
mace from his belt, and viewing it with a smiling face.
"I will be there," Malkanium replied. Chanting the magic of the Lords
of Shadow, Malkanium faded into the air, rippling beyond view of the eye.
"I will be there," his voice
softly drifted from farther down the cavern than Xyrm expected.
Smiling at the skill of Malkanium and Mortal Fyr, Lrd Xyrm said his own
words of magic, and walked into a small room on his left, much akin to the
one in the basement of the Guildhouse. Closing the door, Xyrm placed his
single ring into the door's small
niche, and appeared in the center of his abode in Neverwinter, startling
several of his
scribe underlings who were working diligently. "We have much to do in this
realm, my
solemn apprentices. Let us work." And setting himself behind his large,
comfortable
desk, Lrd Xyrm began to write once more, silently instructing his scribes,
and beginning
the work for x0.
By Lrd Xyrm
Lord Scribe
Devil's Night Diary
(Submitted by: Fair Star)
KEF Galtar, KEF Stone, and I (KEF Fair) met at the appointed time in the
square for the Devil's Night Quest. The three of us sat in the square,
watching NWA Blythe pull out a lawn chair and try to entertain the questors
who were waiting to begin. While we were waiting we prepared and discussed
tactics. Stone suggested that we all carry a badge and cash for a possible
flight to Triboar. Eventually, Galtar received an ESP that we were to begin.
Galtar was told that we should hurry to the back of the SouthWall Inn to
start the quest. We ran off to the Inn and found Silk Sable skulking in the
back of the Inn. She demanded payment for information and 10 jewels were
suggested. Stone quickly handed her the jewels and we demanded information
from her. She told us the SkeletonLord was located in the old ruined manor
on the Lord of Berun's Hill, and that we should seek him. I recognized the
location and we began our first cross realms dash to Berun's Hill.
Galtar arrived first and confirmed the location to us. Stone and I arrived
shortly after Galtar, though not as soon as we would have liked. The
SkeletonLord (a.k.a. Dark Tyger) refused to provide information unless we
could prove our selves to him in combat. A fight soon began with the KEF
Knights doing mighty damage to Tyger. Tyger quickly admitted that we fought
well and that if we spared him he would provide information to us. Galtar
changed our tactics and he proceeded to hold the first of many evils for the
eve. We then protected Tyger from the monsters and questioned him. He
admitted that he knew little, save that evil liche's ex-mistress would know
more and that she frequents the headquarters of the ceramicists guild. I
recognized the location and once again we raced off, this time to the
warehouse district, dying all the way.
Tatyanna II greeted Galt as he arrived first, again. Stone and I arrived
slightly latter, again. (Notice a pattern here?) She asked us to assist her
in throwing pots, I answered that we were in a hurry but perhaps could help
her another time. She said she would help if we answered a riddle for her:
All men know me...
But none understand me...
The more men seek to avoid me...
The closer they come to me...
They do not want me for themselves...
But sometimes they wish me for others...
What am I?
I responded, with "thee are death". Tatyanna then told us that our next
objective would be near a gate from one of the two cities adjoining the NW
woods, and that she did not think it was NightsEdge.
We dashed across the realms, this time bound for the LongSaddle gate to the
woods. I used the sewers and nearly met failure. A few measly banshees
scared me and I had a close call with death facing the Gorgoma's that were
located with them. This delayed my travel enough that I was late getting to
the woods.
Galtar and Stone arrived before I and started into battle with the two
zombies they found there (a.k.a. Exedar and Xxlina). Galtar stuck Xxlina
with another of his famous holds as I entered the fight. A critter made a
quick snack of Xxlina, and we proceeded to methodically take Exedar out of
the fight under Galtar's direction. On the zombies bodies we found a note
that in part read...
Gather as many corpses as you can and take them to the
storage facility in ... (stained with blood, unreadable) ...
ever since the week long festival of life ... (again stained)
... the banquet hall has been abandoned. ...
We were at first perplexed by this clue. After some discussion Stone
realized the hall was in Westbridge.
In Westbridge we faced, what turned out to be, our greatest challenge. A
mute man named Ret, stood in the festival hall and tried to communicate with
us. He could not speak but pantomimed and gurgled at us. He walked two
fingers across the table...pulled at his ear...and climbed under the table.
We were rather dense and missed the "walk to hear and go under". Seems
obvious now. He then acted like a cleric in prayer, pointed to a web in a
corner, and covered a lamp with a bowl. Ret got very animated when we got
part of the answer right. Getting the "under" part got us a ::gurgle!
gurgle!:: That inspired us to explore all the unders, and nearly got Stone to
strangle poor Ret. After much delay and debate, Galtar received an
additional clue at the cost of a small time penalty. For our trouble we got
"TEMPLE" something that didn't help us at all. After what seemed like 45
minutes dealing with Ret, I remembered a poor cleric who is stuck in a dark
corner of WestBridge under...and we were once again off and racing.
I arrived at the spot in WB under first, SURPRISE! I witnessed a team in
front of us fight Silk Sable and her minion, in a very long fight. While I
waited M'Lord Stone fought with Red Dragons that seemed to smell him as he
passed by. Stone was forced to return to the Inn to heal after his unplanned
encounter. Galt and then Stone joined me and we proceeded to fight the
monsters Stone brought with him. Stone had a special attraction for the
critters, it seemed. Galt and I made our escapes and watched Stone fight on,
and on, and on.
After a while Silky was ready to face the KEF team. She challenged us to
fight her, telling us she could not be killed. The fight soon started in the
same place that Stone had given us a preview of (good move Stone!). Galt
once again coordinated our tactics and the damage was piling up on Silky. Dk
Vapor entered after a few rounds and the fight moved to another area. Silky
was able to use her amulet twice. Galt stuck another hold this time on Vapor
and the crawler and margoyle that were standing next to me (thanks Galt!).
Stone moved down and held all but one of the critters that was menacing me
(thanks Stone!). I dashed up and past Vapor calling the last Margoyle to
follow me. Silky tossed a disp on Vapor, also striking Stone, but failed to
break Galt's hold. The Margolye then munched Vapor, so fast I missed a spell
I had aimed at him. We then circled around Silky tossing all manners of
cause wounds. She was down to 10hp when I stunk her and placed a cause
serious on her for 11 points :D. This ended the threat that we had started
out to thwart.
With the exception of the clue from Ret I think we did well. I must thank my
teammates for a great adventure. I also want to thank the Masks and friends
for putting on a great quest night. Can't wait to do it again!
The Lady,
KEF Fair Star, KEF Knight Commander (Shield)
Secret Guilds
(Submitted by: Swift 1111)
Many of you have wondered if there are secret groups and guilds that only the
people in them know about. The answer to this is....YES. There are secret
guilds out there. Many do not know of them. Most are just groups that tend to
play together. Others are groups of 10+ people and that plan attacks, make
allainances with other guilds, and even go on guild ventures. To find these
groups its hard but if you ever encounter some talk to them see what they
have to say. Often enough they will have stuff to give away, trade, or
information. So keep your eyes open!
Honor in the Realms
(Submitted by: KEFWarhawk)
Greetings to all o tha brave souls o tha land known as Neverwinter.
Much have I seen o tha ways o tha various peoples and guilds o this land we
all dost share. I shall relate ta all o ye an explanation I jest recently
gave ta a squire on tha subject o honor, which is most important ta this
humble Knight o tha Eternal Flame.
Tis true that tha guild ta which I dost belong, KEF, is well known in tha
realms by both friend and foe alike fer bein honorable, however honor is nae
exclusive ta tha good guilds. Ta tha contrary, some followers o tha ways o
good have little or no honor. I have seen many members o a few "good guilds"
act no better than common thugs and assassins, jumpin tha unwary travelers
from surprise...this is nae tha way o honor...nor tha path o tha warrior.
Just as many followers o tha ways o evil do have a code o honor, warped
though it may be. I have battled many evil souls in me life and some among
them hast earned me respect e'en though they be enemies. Among these well
respected foes I count many o tha Drow o tha Temple of Loth. They are truly
evil, but most o their number I hast encountered may be trusted ta keep their
word. Tha hard part is gettin em ta give their word ta start with, but once
givin' it can usually be trusted.
Honor is in fact tha code one lives by in regard ta ones beliefs. In
large part it dost seem ta me that an honorable person is one who is true ta
their beliefs in their actions and words, no matter what tha situation. In
tha realms honor is a very important part o tha interaction o every day life.
Only a fool will trade or travel with one who does nae have honor, fer how
can they be trusted? Tis simple. They can nae.
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