1996-01-21
Recovered original text · preserved verbatim
==========oOo========== NEVERWINTER NEWS Issue # 117 Week Ending 1-21-96 ==========oOo========== *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* FRONT PAGE *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Congratulations to Morngrym for winning last week's News of the Realm contest with "Seige". Morngrym has earned the choice of 4 Pearls or Access to the GOH (Guild of Heroes) WTG! <><><><><> <><><><><> Slays were flying everywhere in January GoH booth #1, as contestants were asked to resist slays AND take low damage! V Selena would take the lowest damage, 12, from the two casts, and take home 6 pearls! Congrats V Selena :)" -Strahd ;) <><><><><> <><><><><> Location hunt Attention!! Attention!! I put out the call for brave adventurer's to locate the whereabouts of the man saying "You look like those thieves that's been robbing homes around here, Get out of my house!" A scurry of activity occured as the parties raced to find the man. TK Front was the first to the location and wins 4 pearls and one hour online! :D --Sparkle <><><><><> <><><><><> Location Hunt HC Trance was the first after a few minutes of searching to win the Location Hunt of January 18th by being the first to ESP me from the location. "This section is directly beneath Neverwinter Cemetary... gives me the creeps." He wins the 4 pearls and 1 free hour online. Mystek ;) <><><><><> <><><><><> Mini Booth Neverwinter is too HOT !! Just too unbareable. I searched for cooler climate. The Neverwinter River wasn't enough, a trip to the islands still couldn't cool me, and the sewers were down right steamy ;/ So I wandered into Port Llast Harbor hoping I would cool down, but it wasn't enough. Help was needed. Loud and clear I called to 15 folks in the realm to come cool me off with Ice Storm Spells... The many attempts were helpful, but none cooled me more than Azimer. His two spells dropped me 48 degrees and earned him 4 pearls and 1 hour free online time. Congratulations to everyone... even to Noble Sun ;> NW Frost <><><><><> <><><><><> Great Hall Tavern! This weeks dexterous consumer of interesting food goods is Ldy Beacon!!! She wins access to the Guild of Heroes for her participation in the Great Hall Tavern. :) ~NWT Cyane <><><><><> <><><><><> *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* NEVERWINTER CALENDAR *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 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: January 21st Sunday 10:00 PM EST - Join NW Vorpal for a tour of the Realm. Those interested should keep an eye out for the banner telling where to meet! ;D January 22nd Monday 9:00 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 January 23rd Tuesday 8:00 PM EST - Join NW Lenox for a tour of the Realm. Those interested should keep an eye out for the banner telling where to meet! ;D January 24th Wednesday 6:00 PM EST - Join NW Zephyr for a tour of the Realm. Those interested should keep an eye out for the banner telling where to meet! ;D January 26th Friday 9:00 PM EST - Join NW Sparkle for a tour of the Realm. Those interested should keep an eye out for the banner telling where to meet! ;D January 28th Sunday 10:00 PM EST - Join NW Ember for a tour of the Realm. Those interested should keep an eye out for the banner telling where to meet! ;D <><><><><> <><><><><> Dear Abby, I been engaged ta this darl'n lil lass fer quite ahwhile, but ah'm start'n ta git worried. Every time tha question bout when ta set our wed'n date comes around, she changes tha subject! Now ah admit, there's ah few thangs I haven't told her yet, like the fact that ah gots a child or two roam' the realms, an this gawdawful knack fer get'n fresh with the ladies when ah've been drink'n, but other then ah few kill'ns I gots ta do every day, ah'm not ah bad person! Whut am I gonna do bout her, other than knock'n her out an drag'n her to a priest?? Cyclops Dear Cyclops, If you havn't been compeltely honest with her about your parental status, that situation should be rectified before the wedding. After all, you don't want her to be surprised one day when a little one comes running to her, clutching her skirts, crying, "Mama!" I can understand you not discussing your habbits of flirting. You don't have to be dead just because your married or engaged, but don't let the flirting go too far and don't let it get in the way of your relationship. From what you say, the main problem with your relationship is: it sounds to me like your relationship is falling apart. She's afraid to commit. It's possible that she wants time to get to know you better, but it's just as likely that she's having an affair. You don't need to knock her down and drag her to the priest.. that'll leave a bump on her head and will most likely cause rug burns in the attempt to move her. Communication is key. I suggest counseling. Most of life's problems can be worked out if you discuss things openly and having a paid professional counselor, like myself, could very well help bring issues out into the open for you to deal with and work through. Your relationship can be saved! Talk to your fiance and have her write me a note giving me her point of view. Once I have both, I can better advise. NW Abby WANDERER - Part 1 "First Taste" (Submitted by: Lake Mist) I left the Red Mage Inn...had overheard talk of the Luskan Outpost...unfriendly people...much adventure...as a wanderer...I had to start somewhere... Thru the Warehouse District...headed north...into Windycliffs...will have to do a detailed exploration of this place one day... Pushing on thru...I made the gate to Port Llast...following the path...I finally came to the Griffon Inn...10,10...rest and drink... Sitting in a corner...frenzy and griffon steaks...I heard parts of a conversation..."I heard that the lady has been seen again...how I wish that she had never ventured to the harbor"... Leaving the Inn...I turned north...the Harbormaster...10,8...I entered...asked if any ships were in... "Aye, the Gallant Prince is here...but there be nobody on board...o'course, I hav' not checked below decks...and neither should you"... Leaving the Harbormaster...I turned east and headed to the harbor...passing thru the gate at 0,7...two signs... A carved wooden placque..."Port Llast Pier"...and a paper sign..."Danger! Do Not Enter!"... As I continued toward the pier...a large merchant ship...surface cracked and pitted...sails gone...there was a name on the bow..."The Gallant Prince"... Onward...a watchman..."You can go on board...and down the hatch if'n ya want...not me...no sir...this ship set sail with a full crew...from Waterdeep"... "Drifted here a week later...no cargo...tattered sails...lokked like somethin' ate 'er...and spit 'er out...wasn't a man on 'er...no man alive...not a man has come up on deck, anyway"... I walked past the watchman...boarded the ship...moved aft...6,7...opened the door...slipped into the room... It appeared to have been the Captain's quarters...two large sea chest...smashed and emptied...it smelled in there...bad... I stepped forward...a Troll and four Bugbears...now I knew where the smell came from...Bugbears...will wet on their own foot...then look to the sky to see if it is raining... A quick fireball...and I finished the last Bugbear with cold steel...mem...a quick search of the quarters revealed two doors on either side of the main door... I chose the one on the north at 4,6...entered...and felt a sudden sense of lightness...as if floating...I suddenly realized that I was...a dark opening appeared overhead...3,0... A long dark corridor...I moved forward...three Hooded Medusas...another quick fireball...two fell...then I threw a Magic Missle...it contacted, and the last one fell... I moved tot he end of the corridor...and as I was putting my broad sword away...I noticed a number of brass buttons on the floor...I picked one up...it had a familiar coat of arms on it... As I stuck it in my tunic and began to rise...the floor opened...I floated down...4,6...where I had started...I would have to remember to take that button to Lord Nasher... As I was about to leave the quarters...another Troll and Bugbears appeared...there must be a nest near by...magic and cold steel...these too fell... I made my way east off the pier...back into Port Llast...I followed the path east to 10,7...Luskan gate is to the north and the west...so I followed the winding path... Thru the gate...this road looked very bleak...like the people I had heard of...at 0,13...two Yeti and five Giant Spiders...I had to careful of those fangs...two fireballs cleared the road... I found the "Princes' Palace"...at 5,11...the local Inn...the Innkeeper said he like my type...he wanted me to drink my frenzy and leave...wanted that gold, he did... I went east when I left the Inn...came to two doors...the one on the north appeared to sealed by magic..."To be opened only by those from beyond"...it read...the other door lead to rubble... As I turned south...a door to a private residence...wealthy from the look of it...a man came to door..."Go away before I call the guards...I'm sick of you mecenaries and all your non-human friends"... Mecenary?...I understood what everyone had said now...I would have to get a change of cloths after this...a mecenary indeed... I turned east...the next door was Blutt's Arms and Armor...1600 gold pieces for plain plate...and they called us mecenaries... At 10,13 another door...with a sign..."Enter and Pay Here"...as I entered...a portly gentleman...stuffing his face said..."Don't bother me...names not on the list...when you come back...that's when you pay"... I left and continued east...I stopped at a door at 12,13...humm...entered and followed the corridor around...another door...entered into a small room...tapping on the west wall...a secret door... As I passed thru the door...two Trolls, two Ogres, four Hobgoblins and six Goblins...guarding something...two fireballs...the Hobgoblins, Trolls and Goblins went down in ash... Cold steel finished off the Ogres...after...I searched the room...a hidden door...I passed thru it...it clicked shut behind me...only one way now...dark...damp...several hundred yards...the passage ended... I felt around on the walls...something...I pushed it...the stone above slid open...I climbed up into a dark and musty cavern...stalagmites...stalactites...suddenly I noticed the hole closed... I moved west...then south...turned west again...stopped at a door at 2,8...sniffed the air...opened the door...seven Owlbears and a Cloud Giant...fireball...six Owlbears bursts into flame... The last two closed...I sliced the Cloud Giant...pivoted around...cut from brisket to groin...the Owlbear fell...a check of the room revealed...a secret door at 0,9...south...I entered... Another fairly large room...with one door in the south-east corner...to the door and I stopped...I preped as best I could...fire shield, mirror image, globe...I hoped I was ready... I pushed open the door...stepped thru...two Beholders...and more...I immediately started cold steel to Beholder...two cuts...three...stoned...the second Beholder had gotten me... I awoke in Neverwinter...not knowing how I had gotten there...at a temple...healed...I left the temple and wandered around for a minute...not really sure where I was... I made the Red Mage Inn...got a table...ordered frenzy...related my tale to a few patrons...one laughed and said..."If you had defeated the Beholders...you would still have had to know the answer"... Answer?...he laughed again..."Your time minus 12"...he laughed and walked off...I made up my mind that I would eventually have to travel back north...but right now...I needed a good nights rest... One day...one day...I'll make it back there one day...I had gotten my first taste...I wanted more... adventure...travel... Nang's Tale (Submitted by: Angilynne) He was born, from what little he could remember, on a mountain range somewhere on the surface of the world. His tribe had been wolfriders because they had known goblins who had also been wolfriders, but when the dark ones had come, his tribe had fallen like wheat. He had been only a child then. The dark ones had gathered the remaining members of the tribe and one had examined them, dividing them into two groups. He had stared at the child for awhile, examined his teeth, checked for deformities, a ritual that would become very familiar as time went. He had seen that the child had none and sent him to one of the groups. His father had been a wolfrider. He had fought the dark ones fiercely and been injured badly, so badly, in fact, that the dark ones seemed to think that giving him time to heal would take too much time. He was sent to the other group. His mother had been slain in that first frenzy of fear and sweat and blood... the child remembered being ripped away from her just as her eyes had glazed over. The first group was led to the center of the small village, the second herded up against a building. He remembered that the leader of the dark ones had actually checked to make sure the vision of the first group of the second was not impeded in any way. And as one group watched, the second was slaughtered. As his father was cut down, he looked into the child's eyes and mouthed a word. It was a word that he wanted the child to remember, should he live. It was a word that was vital to him, a word that he would cling to for years, never uttering it, save to himself in the night to be sure that he still remembered. It was a word that he could never forget, lest he forget that day on the mountain, the sight of his people falling so easily, the smell of fear and death in the air, the sight of the dark ones and how they regarded his people. His people were not just weak to the dark ones. They were less than nothing. The implication of the leader's action was clear to the child, moreso, though he did not realize it, than to any of the rest of his people. And the memory of that word would always remind him of the one thing he carried from that day. It was the only gift he ever received from his father. A sacred vow to himself that he would be more than nothing. He would become something or die trying. The word was Nang. *** He and the remainin members of his tribe were taken deep beneath the earth to a great city among the caverns. They were not fed often and each time, the food was unceremoniously dumped in a pile on the ground that always led to a feeding frenzy. Only the very strong or very speedy were able to come away with more than a few scraps of food. The child was only half-grown. He was neither and he suffered deeply over the long journey. By the time they saw the pale lights gleaming in the distance, his ribs were clearly visible and he staggered with each step, dying on his feet. But he did not die, perhaps, because he was not ready. He was luckier than some. The tribe had numbered about a hundred kobolds in the mountain. Half of that number had been slain in the raid and slaughter. Of the fifty that had started on the journey, only twenty- two had survived the trip. Most of the women had died. He was the only child left. Eighteen of the survivors were adult males. He remembered a look of utter contempt that had passed over the features of one of the dark ones as he had looked at the kobolds feeding one night. He had spat a word out. It was the first word of the drow language that the child ever learned. "Rothe!" It was what he was, he knew instinctively. Cattle. Slave. Animal. Less than nothing. As they were herded into the great city of Menzoberranzan, the child peered about himself in awe. He saw that the dark ones, for the most part, paid no attention to the train of less-than-nothings that passed them. They were important. They had more important things to consider than another train of Rothe. The child knew, somehow, that this was also a way for him to survive what was to come. For he knew that only if he were noticed could he be hurt or killed. Days passed in a huge pen and, for once, the food was plentiful and given often. It was often tasteless and sometimes rotting, but they ate it nevertheless. It was better than being half starved as they had been. The child, too, ate his fill, though he instinctively distrusted this. The day came when they all realized what had been done. They had not been fed out of generosity, but out of greed. They were led to the block and they realized that the only reason they had been fed was that they would fetch another few copper, perhaps, if they looked well fed. Rothe. Cattle. Slave. Less than Nothing. They were sold as a block. For two pieces of silver. The child looked up at the one who had bought them. A big, hideously ugly dark one with missing teeth and dirty hair. He said nothing to them, only gestured at his two underlings who herded them to another pen, where they waited for another day. Then, when night fell, though it was hard to tell back then, for he was used to the obvious surface world nightfall, not the very subtle nightfall of the underdark, they were led out into a pit. The ugly dark one was shouting words to the crowd of dark ones, who screamed and, in the mind of the child, seemed to drool and gibber in a mindless way. They were expecting something. Then the ugly one left the pit and the crowd howled and laughed at the child and what was left of his tribe. Across the pit, a great gate swung open and two huge beasts charged out. Great men with horned heads and carrying axes. The kobolds scattered as the minotaurs charged through them and began chopping them to bits. Six were dead in seconds before one actually had the presence of mind to try to rally the small humanoids. He and four others charged the smaller of the two minotaurs and, though they all died, managed to drag it down. The other swept across the rest of the tribe until only nine remained. They huddled against one of the walls, the child at the back of them. He stared up at the crowd and saw that many of the dark ones seemed bored, though many seemed to be enjoying the slaughter below them. The minotaur pressed close. it was wounded now, but only four of the tribe remained. The child watched as one was dispatched, then another. Finally, he grabbed a sharp stick and charged forward. The minotaur gazed at the tiny creature that assailed it and laughed a booming laugh. The other kobold had picked up the axe the other minoataur had used, but it was too heavy to really use effectivelt. All he could do was use it to try to block the swings of the minotaur. The child felt a great rage build within him. He knew how unfair what the dark ones had done was. He knew that all his people were to them were a brief moment of amusement. Rothe. Cattle. Slave. Less than nothing. With a shrill cry, he leaped forward and buried the stick in the eye of the minotaur, who was leaning low after another swing at the other kobold. The great creature bellowed in agony and rose up suddenly, leaving its bowels open. The other kobold seized the moment and buried the axe in them. The minotaur howled in agony and fell with a great thud. There was a brief hush from the crowd, then the noise rose back to its former level. The child and the remaining adult were led from the pit and fed. The child slept, knowing that even this could be survived. Time passed. Every so often, more kobolds were brought to the arena and led to the pit to be slaughtered by whatever creature the ugly dark one had that was too old or too injured to use for a proper pit fight. Every time, the child who was becoming a young adult and whichever kobolds had survived the previous slaughter were thrown in with the new ones. Every time, only a couple remained. And every time, Nang was one of them. After some time passed, though, something odd began to occur... the number of kobolds surviving each fight began to grow. Finally, a fight happened in which no kobolds died at all. In truth, Nang had killed both of the decrepit griffins that the pit master had sent against them, but the crowd had never seen something like that before. They roared and howled and, for the fiorst time, Nang did not feel that they were howling and roaring against him, but for his victory. When the fight was over, the ugly dark one drew him aside from the others and spoke to him. Nang was shocked. He had never been spoken to directly by any of the dark ones. The ugly dark one was shrewd enough, "You have been here for some time. Enough time to pick up some things. More than any kobold's ever lasted before, but you'd still get slaughtered by a real pit fighter." Nang knew that was true. He had been a slave in the arena long enough to see the real pit fighters who had spent their entire lives doing this. He knew that he would not survive a fight with one of them. He kept his face low and nodded. The ugly dark one continued, "But I will do soemthing... akobold pit-fighter is odd and you may fetch more than I bought you for. If you can win one fight. Can you win one fight?" Nang shrugged. He could try. And it came and he buried a short sword into the stomach of the new human fighter, (who was really only a farmer, but only the ugly dark one knew that) and was sold for two gold pieces. And was put onto a cart and taken to the city of Rilauven, where, the pit-master knew, the fights were not fights to the death as they were here, but money events in which the fighters were taught how to fight and to fight to first blood or to surrender. The pit-master chuckled, believing he had put a good one over on everyone. And that was how Nang spent his first two years in the Underdark. *** The dark one who had purchased him was not rich by any means, but a gambler who aspired to become rich by sponsoring fights in which he knew that other dark ones would bet against his fighter. He had seen the kobold in several fights in the pit in Menzoberranzan and, though he knew that he was not ready yet, he could become a winner for him. He had invested very little in the kobold, but a great deal in his partner, a large minotaur named Karrn. He introduced the two and told them that they would be partners and that they just learn to fight together. Both accepted that. They both knew that they were Rothe. neither ever considered doing anything else. He learned to fight. Karrn taught him how to use weapons to his advantage. Where he had been a wild fighter before, the minotaur's teachings honed his skills and by the time they fought their first fight in the arena together, Nang was more fit than he had ever been and a better fighter than any of their opponents were prepared for. Their owner made a great deal in those first few fights. The odds against the kobold and the minotaur had been staggering. After the seventh win, though, he started to make less and less and became less interested in his pit- fighters. He was a wealthy man, by this point, and he had made his fortune to lose. He left Karrn and the kobold in their home in the arena and neither ever saw him again. A month passed and they had no fights. Finally, they learned that he had lost all his money and been killed by his debtors. Karrn was sold to another fight sponsor, a richer one, who had no interest in the novelty of a kobold pit fighter. Finally, the kobold was sold to a work gang for three gold pieces. His new owner was a harsh dark one who disciplined his slaves often for not working fast enough. He was a builder of buildings and all of his laborers were slaves. He was always under deadline to complete the buildings he was contracted for and he had bought the young adult because he appeared unusually strong for a kobold. His overseer, a brutal hobgoglin called Rathj, seemed to single the kobold out most for punishment. If they ran behind schedule, it was the fault of the kobold. If an accident happened, it was the kobold's fault. If they ran into a problem, it was always because there was a kobold in the work crew. The kobold tried to accept everything, because he knew he was rothe and less than nothing. The word he had spent so long remembering, reiterating it in his mind night after night, sometimes even saying it aloud to himself began to slip away. He no longer remembered what the word meant, only that it was important to him. The dark ones, who had seen him in the pits, no longer saw him. The kobold pit- fighter was forgotten. The only thing left was the young adult who awoke each day thinking that this might, finally, be the day he died. Rathj died almost a year after he joined the work gang. By this time, he had lost most of the bulk he had gained while fighting in the pits. He was small and stringy, though what little he had was pure muscle from hauling stone blocks up to the top of construction sites. The hobgoblin had passed under the kobold's area when a block slipped from his grasp and crushed the overseer. His owner ordered the kobold brought before him. He looked over the slave without much expression, then said, "Is there any reason you should not be put to death?" The kobold knew that there was little time to save his life. The only thing he could think of was, "He was not a good overseer." The dark one smiled, "Could you do better?" The kobold nodded. The dark one's smile turned into a grin, "Return here within a week's time and I will make you overseer." He was taken to a large stone block at one of the construction sights near the edge of the city and chained to it with a heavy iron manacle. Then he was left without food or water. The manacle had been locked so tight that it nearly cut off the flow of blood to his hand. In six hours, he had only moved the block half a foot and realized that he not going to make it that way. After half a day, the ground was covered in his blood because he a rubbed his wrist raw, trying to free his hand. The thirst was almost overwhelming. He felt utterly helpless. Rothe. Animal. Slave. Less than nothing. The word so long remembered, after five years in this gloomy darkness repeated itself over and over in his head like a mantra. He did not know what the word meant, but it helped him. He knew when his mind cleared that there would be only one way for him to free himself. It took some time to prepare himself. Each time he thought himself ready, he would falter. Finally, he gave up in a rage and brought his hand down against the heavy stonbe slab again and again and again until every bone was shattered and he was able to pull it free. Nearly mindless with agony, he made his way to the house of his owner. He arrived almost two days to the hour from when he had been taken to the slab. The owner looked at his new overseer and smiled. He had exactly the kind of slave he wanted. (continued)Nang's Tale - Part 2 (Submitted by: Angilynne) He was looked upon with contempt by slaves of other races, most often humans who despised beeing overseen by a lowly kobold. His pit-fighting days were long over and even then had been only brief. Many slaves coveted the position of overseer and the priviledges it supposedly brought. So it was not long before the kobold was attacked in the night. He left his attackers alive, but when morning came made them work with the rest of the work gang. As far as he was concerned, sickness and injury were one thing if they were realted to the work. He did not allow slaves who succumbed to such things to work until they were ill. His owner, though reluctant, allowed his new overseer to make that decision because the gang had produced more under nang than they ever did under the previous overseer. But injuries inflicted while trying to kill him were another thing entirely. A day of harsh pain and severe labor was a lesson that few forgot. Soon, once they realized what the kobold was capable of, the attacks grew fewer and fewer until he was left to himself. But that did not lessen the difficulty of the tasks before him. The kobold realized very quickly that his owner made very poor business decisions. He routinely told his clients that buildings could be constructed in far less time than the work could be done, even by the kobold's crew. Deadlines for work changed often. The kobold began to plan his schedule for weeks less than what his owner tolder him was the timeframe of the plan. Then months. It all came to a head with the plans for a new building to house the melee magthere. It was a job that every contractor in the city coveted. The owner of the kobold finally landed the contract by telling them that his company could construct the new building in six months. He told his crew that they had nine months to complete the task, so the kobold knew that they did not have nearly enough time. He also knew that when the building was not constructed in time. He and his crew would suffer for it. He worked them like dogs for three months. Hour after grueling hour. They started with only six hours of sleep a night. Then when he saw that this would not work, he pushed them back to four... then three. Accidents began to skyrocket. By the thrid month, four accidental deaths a day were not uncommon at the construction site. And still, he realized, they would never finish in time. The slaves he oversaw began to resent, then despise, then hate the demanding and relentless kobold. They could never realize how hard he was struggling to save all of their lives. He knew that no one else would care enough to do so. Finally, he made the decision to tell his owner that they must receive an extension if the work crew was to survive. When he arrived at the office, there was a great carriage already there, along with many of the dark ones all dressed in purple. He saw the emblem emblazoned on the side of the carriage and a wave of fear washed through him. He had been in Rilauven for nearly seven years. He knew the language and, though few knew it, also had learned to read a few words. The symbol was that of the Malla Yathrin Zarra Yorn. He heard a shout issue from the inner office and the door was flung wide open. Just before he fell to his knees and and groveled in the manner of the rothe, he saw a majestic figure shrieking at his owner in rage. It seemed his warning had come too late. The first house had already learned of his owner's deceit. Then from the corner of his eyes, he saw the Malla Yathrin pull the serpent flail from herr belt and begin beating his owner. The kobold was intrigued. He had never seen one of the dark ones being beaten like a rothe. And, in that moment, many of his perceptions changed. He knew that, lowly as he was, less than nothing as he was, in the eyes of these, all were less than nothing. All were rothe. Animals. Slaves. The beating continued until long after the kobold's owner was dead. The malla yathrin looked about her. For a brief, terrifying moment, her gaze lit upon the prostrate kobold before her, then she dismissed the rothe and issued a few brief orders. "All here is surrendered to Faen-Tlabbar, " she told the sargtlinen. "Seize everything. All equipment. All rothe. All employees. This place now belongs to the first house." The kobold did not know what had happened, but he figured that the first house had been sent by the empire to punish his former owner for failing to complete the Melee-Magthere on schedule. He did not know thathis owner had gone three times to the empire telling them that his operating costs had risen and he needed to raise the price to finish on schedule. When they learned that it would never be finished on time, the punsihment was swift and decisive. The kobold nodded... Rothe. Animal. Less than nothing. *** All the slaves were sold at auction to try to recoup some of the losses of the empire. The entire estate had been sold and the contract turned over to another company who bought most of the slaves of the kobold's former owner. Nang was not among them. The company already had an overseer and Nang's price was too high for him to waste on a simple laborer. He was sold to the thirty-fourth house of Rilauven who made their income by buying and selling livestock. They needed an overseer for one of their herds. Nang was trained by a human and left in charge of twenty other rothe who herded animals to and from various drow cities in the underdark. It was a dangerous task, for the underdark was a dangerous place. A party of sargtlinen from House Mal'Sherann generally accompanied them. At first, they barked orders at Nang and made sure he memorized the trade routes. These were veterans of this duty, who had also been assigned to ensure that the animals were delivered on time and to teach Nang his duties. House Mal'Sherann was a bit odd among the drow noble houses in that it's house mother truly understood how dependant they were on the rothe they owned. Their livelihood depended on the rothe believing that life in House Mal'Sherann was, at the least, better than fleeing into the underdark. The kobold understood this quickly and he learned the trade routes. He learned the proper methods of driving the herd. He learned how to teach the rothe he oversaw these things. After some months, his schedules rivalled other overseers who had been doing this for a lifetime. And for the first time since childhood, he was almost happy. He was seeing many new places. His owners, as long as he maintained the schedules, left him and his crew pretty much to their own devices. And he liked the work better than anything he had done since fighting alongside Karrn. But, like all things, it was not to last. *** The end of House Mal'Sherann was quick and brutal as the ending to all drow houses tend to be. It happened when the kobold and his crew were not even in Rilauven, but returning from a trip. They were wold only that they were now property of the empire and that they were wo be sold at auction. They were also told that they were to forget the name of their former house because it had never existed. The kobold was tossed into the kobold pens, for none among the empire's troops had the time or the inclination to closely examine any of the histories of any the of the forgotten house's slaves. His pen was sold to the Temple and he, alone, among the kobold slaves knew what that meant. He had been in the underdark everyday for nine years. Each day, he had awakened with the knowledge that this was the day he might die. And now, after surviving much, he realized the day had come. There was only one reason the Temple of Lloth would claim an entire pen of kobold slaves. For a massive sacrifice. They were led to one of the lesser spires and as each kobold was led out before the altar. The Yathrin in charge of the ceremony would briefly gesture over his head and the image of a great spider would appear on his flesh. Then their throats were slit and the blood collected in the basin underneath. The word he had long remember whispered itself into his brain and he still did not understand what it meant. It was easy to shove his way to the back of the line of slaves. None of the other kobolds were nearly a match for him. The long procession continued... hours passing by. Ten Twenty Thirty Forty and finally at fourty-four, the harvest of blood was complete. The basin was full. Nang and three others still stood in the pen. The Malla Yathrin in charge of the ceremony waled back to the slave pen and looked at the prostrate kobolds. Her voice chilled the kobold, for though he had only heard it one, it was a memory that had remained emblazoned in his memory for many years. The voice belonged to the Malla Yathrin Zarra Yorn. "These left, " she stated. "Take and give away as gifts. Perhaps there are some houses in need of rothe." And Nand was led from the altar of Lloth, spared only by his strength and will. And on the backs of forty- four of his race. He was taken and given to House Fey-Branche. *** The memory of Rilauven was brief, especially when it came to the lives of rothe. House Fey-Branche knew nothing of its new kobold slave, only that it was a kobold. They learned, quickly enough, that he spoke drow well, that he had learned manners exceptionally well for a rothe and that he knew how to behave reasonable well. He was made a house servant, usually a runner sent with message scrolls all around the compound. He soon knew many of the house by name. No one paid him any attention, of course. He was simply the kobold who delivered messages. But he never made mistakes. He had been in the underdark for ten years now. He had learned long ago that rothe who made errors were not rothe for long. He also learned many things of House Fey-Branch. All spoke freely around rothe... for they were less than nothing. After three years, he learned that they were soon to have a new yathrin among them. The Patron of the house had found her and she was to take the oloth and become one soon. The Castillan was sent a message to make a room ready for her and he spoke of this to one of his underlings before he finally glanced down and dismissed the message boy. The kobold. was one of a few kobolds who dwelt in the servant's wing. The all slept in one small room on a straw pallet. Next to them were two rooms of goblins and on the other side several rooms of orcs. All of the kobolds were mere laborers... none had been in the underdark for long and he did not expect them to last. He could see them deteriorating daily from the toil. But that was the life of a rothe. One either adapted to it or one died. He was allowed one priviledge the other kobolds were not. Each day when he rose before dawn, he was permitted to bathe himself quickly, for he was a house servant and must move around among the drow. It was not permitted for him to exude body odor. Occasionally in the following days he would hear something new of the arrival of the new yathrin. Her rivvil husband had learned something of her abduction and was seeking her out to prevent tha transformation. The kobold wondered at that... Yathrinen were just beneath Lloth. How could anyone wish to keep someone from achieving that glory? Finally, the day came when she was brought to Fey-Branche. She was still confused from her transformation. Her memories had vanished. And there was something... odd about her. One of the ogre slaves whispered to the kobold, "She is insane." The ogre was found the next day in a small alcove of the house, far away from anything else. His neck had been broken. The kobold, of course, was never suspected. Before too many more days, the word was spread that the new Yathrin had rewuested supplies and had redesigned her chambers. And that those chambers stood in the same wing as the servants quarters. The kobold supposed he would see them soon enough, as soon as someone sent the new Yathrin a message. That night, a haunting, frightening music drifted throughout the servants wings. The newer servants whimpered in fear at the song of the flute, but it had been years since the kobold had heard anything so beautiful. He lay awake for hours, listening to the rise and fall of the songs. The next day the new Yathrin requested a personal servant be sent to her chambers. A few minutes after the human female entered the sanctum, she was brought out... her mind destroyed, a gibbering maniac. The kobold witnessed her being dragged down the hallway and regarded the scene with some trepidation. The same thing happened later in the day. Then again. Then again. Fear ruled the servants wing. Slaves of every race had been delivered to the new yathrin and all had been driven insane. Many of Fey-Branche's slaves had been noble house slaves for all of their lives. It seemed that the new yathrin was the kind slaves fear most. One who was casually cruel for fun. One whose malevolent nature had no focus, so she simply comitted randomly evil acts. They knew because they were rothe, they were easy targets for such drow. Finally, they sent the kobold. It was not his usual duty, but the overseer slaves had grown desperate. They believed that, even if only for a little while, the sacrifice of the kobold cwould satiate the new Yathrin's urges for cruelty. The kobold walked to the chamber and knocked quietly. An oddly soft voice replied from within and requested that he enter. This briefly took him aback, for he had never been ASKED anything by any of the drow. After a brief delay, he walked in. He was immediately taken aback as his senses were assiled by the glaring white brightness that surrounded him. It took moments for him to adjust as he tried to find the details of the room. The new Yathrin stood in the center of the room, looking at the kobold with a little concern. Finally, he understood what had driven the others mad. It was not the new yathrin. It was what she surrounded herself with. The place numbed the senses and called into question his very reality... the kobold had few defenses against such a thing. But he did have the word and the word was what saved him. The word given to him by his dying mother on a mountaintop many years before. The word that had saved him when he was chained to a slab... the word that had brought him through the pits alive... the word that had kept him three kobolds from death in the Temple of Lloth... The word hammered through his mind until his sense of reality established itself and he was able to view the room. The color was the same. That was all. The details were visible if one looked closely. Finally, after a time, his reality was completely restored. From his knees, he asked, "Malla Yathrin, you called for a rothe?" There was abrief pause, then that oddly soft voice replied, "What is your name?" By that one simple question, she had gained his utter loyalty for the rest of his life. He had waited for years for someone... anyone to ask it... that was the meaning of the word. That was what it stood for. "My name is Nang, Malla Yathrin, " he said. Another paused followed before she replied, "I am Angilynne, Nang. You will be my personal servant." *** In the months that followed, many things happened that would change Nang's life forever. He slept on a mat at the floor of Angilynne's bed, always laying down to sleep an hour after she bedded down for the night and rising an hour before she rose. He sometimes watched the strange yathrin and knew that many times she was taken by nightmares. She was tormented in her sleep and her waking hours by odd visions and glimpses of both the past and future. She treated him differently than any of the drow ever had. She treated him with a modicum of respect. It was also Angilynne who discovered his knowledge of reading. She had been called to see the Malla Ilharess and he had taken the oppurtunity to clean her quarters as he always did. He had not meant to read the scroll on her mantle, but his gaze had slipped down to the parchment and caught his interest. He struggled to make out the meaning and bit his tongue when her soft voice spoke from behind him. "Nang, whatever are you doing, sitting on the floor?" He struggled for a reply, "Malla Yathrin, I... dropped this... I was about to replace it." Her brow furrowed into a frown, "Do not lie, Nang. Were you reading?" He bowed his head and nodded. She gazed thougtfully at him and smiled softly, "Read this." He read what he could and by the end of it, her smile had widened, "I daresay that you are far more intelligent than you have ever let on, are you not?" He considered a proper reply, "Malla yathrin, my intelligence has never been a subject among the masters..." She nodded and the next day and each day after, one of his daily duties became studying from the children's books that she obtained from the teachers in the house. It was silently agreed between them that this was not to interfere with his other duties, so he began to rise two hours before she did each day and study by the light of a candle. Five months after her arrival, the vision became too much. The empress herself commanded the Yathrin Angilynne to destroy the ranger Reglidan. Nang knew the story by now. Servants talked and held many secrets. He knew more about her origin than than her shattered memory allowed her to know. He said nothing, of course. Despite what she had done for him, that was still not his place. She left with one of the high sargtlinen Cudayn and several of the elite and was gone for nearly a month. In the interim, the Malla Yathrin Trista had been taken by the goddess. Upon her successful return, the favor she had gained by taking the heart from the ranger had propelled her into the vacated First daughter position. Abruptly, Nang found himself the favored servant of the First Daughter of the second house of the empire. Before long, it became clear that the other servants resented him for this, but all feared Angilynne's wrath should Nang be hurt or killed. And before long, Angilynned told him that he would be placed in charge of the other rothe. Nang, of course, never refused anything of the one who had gained his undying loyalty. Dalharuk D'Chath (Submitted by: Kaelith) Cold, wet, and terrifyingly vast is the surface world. It seeths with innumerable creatures and beasts of all kinds. Yet the two-legged types are few and far between, gathered into centers of agriculture and commerce. Humans, especially, seem to crowd into the confines of walls and barriers, living mostly in squaler and poverty; laboring through the day and ending each always in a drunken stupor. Yet even in the cities, it is easy to feel alone in this world. I am not sure why I left the Har'oloth. I am uncertain if I am right or if I am nothing more than a confused wael of a man. I do know, however, that I was not the first to leave. The whisperings of males behind their jabbressens' backs has never been uncommon, but of late, many have begun to trade whispers for outcries. I was never one to make such a scene, and in fact I doubt anyone but Zarra ever knew I sympathized, but I felt the pull of something greater than my servitude to a jabbress would ever provide. I knew the rouges I openly rebuked were more my ilk than I could bear to admit for a long while....but not forever. Zarra has always been the one great mark on my life. Leaving her was the most painful part of it all. She is, in a way, like a sister, and like a lover I've never lain with. My love for her is a thread that ever tugs at my heart, as if to pull me back to Rilauven. A queen of fire and ice, is she; a lady of sharp edges and wicked manipulations. I have seen her charm her victims in such a way that they do not believe anything but ecstasy could come of her. She is a tender touch, with poison at her fingertips. Her will is never veiled, and always feared. It is, I think, her almost magical charms that make other males loyal. Each would die in her stead. Or, at least, she could certainly make them believe that is what they truely want. Where did I stray? I think it was that I learned the great art of waerr'ess and manipulation that the females practice from birth. I learned to play their game and to win. I spent hours delving into magical tomes after blackmailing the wardess into allowing me to pass into the forbidden sanctums of the great Rilauven library. Her own deceits had produced far too many dangerous secrets. I only needed one. Within those halls, I learned that I was not inferior because I was male. I was inferior because I lacked knowledge. I believe that knowing what it is that you do not know is the first step to wisdom. One may never learn a thing if he does not know this thing exists. So it was that I became dissatisfied with being a "mere male". I would not become an outspoken martyr, however. I studied in secret. The shadows became my friend. And then there was that day when I knew what I must do. I wanted two things: freedom from the bindings of what I was, and knowledge. It was when the Bregan D'Aerth distanced themselves from the temple and took to the surface world that I knew where I could gain both of these things. That is when I left Rilauven. Cloaked in dark shrouds, I sought the Bregan D'Aerth, but many of the common folk knew nothing of drow in Neverwinter, and shrunk from my thick accent as if I carried the plague. I knew they were there. I often heard whispers amongst the rivvin in taverns, but when I approached, their memories dimmed. It was obvious that drow were a little seen and little understood race there. We dwelt more in their myths then in their lives. That is the way it was then....before we conquered. What was I to do? Where could I search? I was lost, but my purse was full, and wealth was master to all in Neverwinter, as it still is. There was a time when I began to lose sight of my goal. I began to drench myself in wine and women; rivvil women. Searching in dark places for my kin, I found instead a seedy collection of thieves and con men. I now know just how lost and clouded in mind I was then, for I called many of them abbilen. Yes, rivvil filth. Each of them had a purpose behind their smiles, but I was ignorant and all of it was new to me. Yet my purse was growing light, and I did find a use for them for a time.... The craft guilds were the true ruling class of Neverwinter. Lord Nasher was ever held hostage by their whims and wants. Likewise, the population was bent to the wills of the guild masters and the patricians who controlled all the work that was done, or not done, in the city. In order to control the craftsmen, they alone held the right to deny a man his trade. Mounds of gold were horded in the guild halls as journeymen payed heftily for the right to make their masterpieces; the works which would earn them their status as masters of their crafts. Prices were fixed by the guilds. Materials and quality standards were enforced. Oft times there were men who, by desperation or by greed, would make and sell substandard items. There were even those who used magic to deceive the buyer. This was a dangerous undertaking. At the least, they would lose the right to perform their craft within the jurisdiction of their guild. Many times, they were beaten and murdered. It was the fate of most of these men, more so even than those born to poverty, that they turned eventually to the thieves guild. What else could a situation like this create, but constant war between the wealthy burgers and guild masters, and the thieves who stalked the night? When my money began to run out, I became a pariah. A wealthy drow noble was one thing. A lost and destitute rouge was another. The Bregan D'Aerth eluded me. They were a shadow of myth in the minds of the populace, and they were beginning to become so to me. I felt so lost and alone that eventually, I siezed to feel at all. I can not count the times I found myself face to face with a group of drunken rivvin, ready to release the stress of the long work day on one such as me. Most times I was so lost in the haze of my own endulgence that I only remember waking bruised and sore in the filth of a back street. After a while, I began to surrender to this world. I began to lose sence of my original purpose, and to gain a view of what I was becoming. I was noone there to anyone. Anyone but those who were most like me, or me as I had come to see myself. The local thieves guild was always looking for a sword so keen as mine, and for a time, I lent it to their craft. The streets of the slums were black at night. By the order of Lord Nasher, each door in Neverwinter was required to hang a light outside after dark, but here, the impoverished could hardly afford food, further more oil for lamps. And who amongst the nobility really cared for the safety of the poor? I had found that the rivvin could not see beyond their noses when the moon was slim. My own vision was improved when the moon did not cast a glare, and this lent itself to stealth. Stealth had become my livelihood. Cloaked in dark shrouds and blessed by Lloth with vision beyond light, I had my way with those foolish enough to do their errands after dusk. Courriers with various riches rode swift steeds, but my traps were cunning, and a legless horse can not bear anyone. In haste, more often, a fiery missile in the rear of the skull did a stunning job and left a good horse for the black market. Oh what a game it had become to hunt in the dark crevices of that city. One dark crevice in particular soon was revealed to me as I explored the many surprises and secrets of Neverwinter. The sewers. This place was a warground and a hunting ground for the more powerful adventurers. The Nightmasks found its twisting passages and lawlessness to its liking, as they were the local assassins guild. On my first venture into its depths, I triggered one of their many traps and mouthed a swift minor globe in horror as a great ball of fire hissed down the passage and exploded all around me. I had delved too deep into their domain, past the lesser traps and dozing gaurds. I went no further after that. Ever it was the sun that was my greatest foe. I hated this eye that ever spied upon my doings like an impotent magistrate. I despised its relentless heat and glare which seemed to be its only justice against me. It was the sun that drove me to continue my explorations into the sewer network once again, for only there could I find a respite from that beast in the heavens. Little did I know, though I should have guessed, that other drow had also discovered its charms. The Bregan D'Aerth. I had at last found them. From the tome ~Dalharuk d'Chath~ by Kaelith Olathorbb The Path of Justice (Submitted by: KEFWarHwke) It had been a long day, and Warhawk was exhausted. As the sun began to set on the horizon he knew that he didn't have the energy to make it home before falling into a deep sleep. So, he dismounted his warhorse, Ever Clear, and prepared his camp for the night. Within moments of resting his weary bones upon the hard ground near his campfire the Knight was sound asleep. In what seemed like a matter of moments the Knight was awoken from his rest by a lous dissapproving voice which proclaimed,"How now Sir Knight?!?!?! What art thou doing? Why dost thou sleep when thy task lies before thee?!?!?!" Instantly Warhawk was wide awake and reaching for his trusty flail, Foe Seeker, when he realized that he felt no threat from this apparition. Now fully awake he focused on the intruder. Before him stood a large man shimmering with a blue nimbus of power. In the man's left hand was a large warhammer, his right naught but a stump where the hand should be. Seeing the white blindfold about the man's eyes he realized at once who this was that stood before him he. "How hast I offended ye me Lord Tyr. How have I failed in yer service?", he gasped as a feeling of awe washed over his now revitalized body. Tyr booming voice thundered,"Thee and all of thy brothers and sisters have lost the true path of Tyr's justice. I have seen all of thee growing full with pride and personal glory. This was not why the power of the Eternal Flame was given unto thy order. Thy purpose is and always must be clear. Tis JUSTICE!!! Justice for the weak and the strong! Justice for the poor and the rich! Thou shalt go forth amongst thy bretheren...thou shalt go forth among the masses...thee and thy order are Tyr's strong arm in this land where the powers of light and dark battle...where law and chaos struggle for dominance. All of thee shalt once again go forth and battle in the name of Tyr and Justice as thou once did in days gone by!!!". With his words spoken the god of Justice vanished in a blue flash. Without thought Warhawk packed up his camp and rode for home as if Bane him self were chasing close at his heels. Upon arriving home he went straight to the chambers he and his wife, KEFKaitlyn, shared. She would be the first among many to hear of the amazing visitation he had received. Warhawk Priest of Tyr KEF Questmaster etc... More Mask Announcements Congrats ta Tarkoss fer his promotion ta NightMask AGM! Congrats ta The Bonze fer his promotion ta NightMask Plague Warlord! Congrats ta Lev1ati0n fer her promotion ta NightMask Blacktalon Warmistress! Metron Vileson NightMask Win 95 Tip (Submitted by: Ringleron) In the past, when I first logged on NW using my brand new WIN95, everything was great! But, as soon as I quit the game, I get a nasty blue screen and WIN95 is giving all of these General Protection Faults and the dreaded... Fatal Exception Errors. I thought I probably have the settings wrong or such. I was told to send mail to tech support. So, for a time, I settled for the crash ending... I don't want to stop playing Neverwinter just because of a Fatal Exception Error... :) YES, I'm hooked! :) Well... where's the tip... :) Here it comes... I found that by hitting Ctrl-Alt-Del while in the game, WIN95 iconizes the game and brings up the Task List. The program right below DOS Game is the Windows Game Loader. So... I highlight that... Windows Game Loader and END TASK. Then, I click the DOS Game in the task bar. I then get brought back to the game. Afterwards, I select Encamp and Quit. AND presto. I'm out of the game and I'm still connected to AOL. No Fatal Exception Error! :) Sure beats, rebooting and wait and wait for WIN95 to load again. :) There is a side-effect to this method... I must quit the game immediately, or AOL will disconnect. :) Thank you for your time... Yours Truly, Ringleron of the White Mage Guild <><><><><> <><><><><> Gimme a Scoop! Enter the weekly News of the Realm contest by submitting text for publishing. If your Announcement, Article, Helpful Hint, NW Abby Question, Poem, Fiction, or Tidbit wins, you'll have won your choice of 4 Pearls or Access to the GOH (Guild of Heroes) ! Submit all text to screenname: NW NEWS. <><><><><> <><><><><>