1996-02-04
Recovered original text · preserved verbatim
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NEVERWINTER NEWS
Issue # 119
Week Ending 2-4-96
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FRONT PAGE
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Congratulations to HG Shadow for winning last week's News of the Realm
contest with
"Midnight Confession".
HG Shadows has earned the choice of 4 Pearls or Access to the GOH (Guild of
Heroes). Keep up the good work! ;D
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Poison Booth 1/29 - 11:00 pm
NW Ember awoke to find herself dazed and terribly thirsty in the Rankled Boar
Inn. Feeling a fever burning through her body, she staggered toward the cool
breezes of the glades of Nightsedge. There, she stumbled across a group of
adventurers who tried valiantly to assist her. As each reached out their
hand to the ailing guard, they were assaulted by a fierce contact poison.
Several fell to this deadly touch, but those that were able to withstand the
horrible venom were rewarded with 2 pearls!
The sturdy Chief of Axepeak, Dwyvyrn offered his hand willingly and was able
to assist Ember to her feet. The next to try, his kinsman Augststorm fell to
the ground after withstanding a few moments of contact. L0rd Jack,
Shadeblood and Gherkin II were all able to help... but the lady Cherresse
fell at the first touch of Ember's poisonous hand. The brave and stalwart
Ninnyhamer and noble Palbalaczr were next and stood firmly as the hand of
death passed over them. Famed "bard lass" Syren Coal was next, yet
word-wisdom did not prevent the poison from striking her down. So too the
drow assassin Kh0lari and the rugged dwarf lad Ironplate, found themselves
unable to resist the venom. The remaining four, Ilithini, BDA's Jabbuk Sagx,
WGW Angel and Lunarsage each survived to win their reward from the Lord
Mayor!
Thanks to all who participated!
-NW Ember ; )
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-<>-<>- The Frosty Tour of Windy -<>-<>-
It all began in NW City... I gathered a group of adventures to explore the
Windycliffs!
Joining me were K13Hawkeye, Mystel, Cezurian, and JSmith9008. On our way to
the north gate of Neverwinter, JSederqu asked to join our group. While
walking through the warehouse district Raptor6473 joined us as well. The
road to Windy was as unpredictable as the winds that tear through the region.
JSmith9008 got separated from the group and wasn't heard from again ;/ Ldy
Beacon joined up to lend a hand as only she could :)
We continued to the Inn and explored the city. Thieves were abound! Some
ogres, shamans, and mages had found their way into city hall. Our group
dispatched them quickly. On to the north end of the region we travelled. We
stumbled upon a building hidden in the trees. Within was a lair of Manticore
and Ice Hounds! K13Hawkeye had been sweeping up the whole journey but was
severely injured now... we later met up with him at the inn.
The journey concluded with Cez, Mystel, Hawkeye defeating the Purple Worm in
the south part of the region. Their rewards? 20 Jewels apiece :)
Thanks to everyone joining me. A fun group indeed!
NW Frost
P.S. Mystel let me know how those shopping tips turn out ;D
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Dart Tourney!!
This evening the Great Hall Tavern hosted a Dart Tournament for all to join!
Some of the best dart throwers in the land wandered in on this eve'
including: Areleth2, Xylina, Mech Tiger, Murgrew, Torath, Ldy Beacon, Mech
Loner, Kylanna, Zero Posys, G0ssamer, ThornHawk, Abzzsta1n, Devin Tir,
Loraque, Mech Frost, and Ldy Tarma! :D
The tension was thick as the participants had to choose how many darts they
wished to throw. Each throw added points to their score but it all depended
on the one lucky dart that Cyane would throw at the end of the night. Would
it be high or low? Well it turned out that most played it safe and stuck
with one throw only; Cyane's throw-147 points. G0ssamer was the lucky winner
this night by being closest, only 6 points away! :D
Lucky G0ssamer wins 5 pearls! :D
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Don't forget that in addition to giving out GOH access to the "best"
roleplayer of the week, Cyane also awards 5 pearls to a lucky and very random
customer once per month. The Great Hall Tavern is open, Wed and Fri nights
from 11pm-1am eastern time and can be found on the AD&D Online menu in the
Great Hall of Neverwinter. See you there! :D
~NWT Cyane
~Your friendly Neverwinter Tavernkeep
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NEVERWINTER CALENDAR
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Keep an eye peeled for those Mini-Boooths because they will appear when you
least expect in different areas of the Realms!
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:
February 5th Monday 7:00 PM EST - Join NW Dain for a tour of the Realm.
Those interested should keep an eye out for the banner telling where to meet!
;D
February 7th Wednesday 1:00 PM EST - Join NW Baldor for a tour of the Realm.
Those interested should keep an eye out for the banner telling where to meet!
;D
February 9th Friday 9:00 PM EST - Join NW Daneel for a tour of the Realm.
Those interested should keep an eye out for the banner telling where to meet!
;D
February 10th Saturday 10:00 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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WANDERER - Part 3 "The Ticket Quest"
(Submitted by: Lake Mist)
The full glare of the moon, the roasting boar, the frothing mugs of various
ales, and the deep laughter of victorious young lovers from the rooms above
the Triboar Inn reached our senses...
Several nods of approval were exchanged amongst us as we gathered around one
very large table in the center of the big gathering hall of the Inn...
"Innkeeper, drinks for all in the house" barked one of the rangers...laughter
erupted as one among the crowd requested milk...
The rangers did not care, "What ever they want to drink, bring it man" barked
the ranger as he tossed several gems upon the table...
Dragonklaw had asked us to join him for several quest this eve...Slick Sly,
Xabran2, Wunerful, Henro, Alaric8, Calinor, Jok and myself had gathered for
feasting and much frenzy comsumption...
We would later be joined by Chrysiana, her traveling companion, Tolban, and
the chief, Neerdowell...
As many strange faces were around us, Dragonklaw only opted to tell us that
there would be much adventure and magic this eve...
He only offered that to follow this eve, we would need our maps and a very
good sense of direction...as quickly as we had arrived, we were off... we
turned west and headed to a hidden door six paces away...
There, we turned north for two paces and were confronted by two Hill Giants,
one Ogre, three Ogre Shamans and three Ogre Mages...
The battle raged, many blows and spells were exchanged, but they could not
stand against so many rangers bent on completing the Ticket Quest...
Afterwards, a dark stairwell was revealed and our way back had
disappeared...we had no choice...
We found ourselves in Triboar Under facing two doors...we chose the door on
the right, and proceeded...
Thru this door we saw one door ahead and to the right; thru this door another
room just the same...
Thru the door at 3,4 we encountered two Hill Giants, a Hobgoblin and two
Giant Mages...
Many creatures living and dead roamed those halls and rooms that night...only
seeking to send us where we did not want to go...
There were Trolls, Remorhaz, Hobgoblins, Minotaurs, Fire Hounds, Salamanders
and Poisonous Snakes to name a few...death at every turn...
We turned right, thru that door and followed the halls to 2,9...thru that
door and the one ahead, we saw a door to the right...
Behind that door was a Mage with a Hill Giant, two Ice Hounds and ten
Hobgoblins...the battle was on...afterward...we found the
ticket...teleported...back to Triboar where we had started...
(continued)The Raven - Chapters 3 & 4
(Submitted by: Riklaun)
Chapter 4
The elf wanders into the square outside the Seekers' meeting hall.
The Falcon on her arm nuzzles her - she looks around. "This all looks
strangely familiar" she muses "As though I've been here before. Only, only, I
just can't seem to remember ."
She enters the meeting hall and sees the Christmas tree and all the
majestic tapestries which tell of great deeds and brave quests. "Who ARE
these people? And my what a lovely tree...only why has it been cut down and
placed in this hall?" A mouse skitters across the floor, the Falcon swoops
for the kill and makes a quick mea l of it. She reads the messages on the
message board. "Riklaun - evil Elf - Braldt - Nalynn.... hmmmm what a tragic
story. If only there were someone here to tell me more about it." Her ring
grows heavy and an eerie glow emanates from it as she cons iders these 3
names - 'tis a sign of some sort - if only she could remember.
As Lord Monar wandered through the Lost Hills on his quest for the
tree of life, he found the wayward elf, Riklaun. Lord Monar approached him
to see if he could convince him to turn from his evil ways without having to
fight him. Unfortunat ely he attacked before Lord Monar was able to prepare
himself for battle. Riklaun quickly released a stinking cloud that merely
made Monar cough for a minute. But that bought Riklaun the time to cast a
fumble spell to slow Lord Monar down.
Hearing the scuffle several crocs and an electric spider came out of
the swampy underbrush looking for a meal. Lord Monar looked at Riklaun's
eyes and noticed a hint of stress in his eyes. Almost as if he wasn't
controlling his actions. T hen he looked down at the dagger he was wielding.
It was a dull silvery color, and glowed softly, adamantite.... Carved on the
pommel was a spider. Lord Monar put two and two together and realized it was
a Drow dagger. He figured it probably had a n ego and was controlling Rik's
mind.
Lord Monar tried several times to slow Rik down, or bring him close
enough to death to render him unconscious, but to no avail. Finally Rik was
successfully able to cast a hold spell on Lord Monar. As he was frozen there
with the crocs com ing after him, he noticed just how hurt Riklaun really
was. One more Ice storm and he would have had him. Riklaun turned and
strode into the woods fading from view. Everything went black as the Crocs
closed in for the kill.
Fighting the dreaded Dracs of Crossergate, Belareth hears a whisper
in his ear. "Where are you " it says. "In Crossergate, fighting Dracs"
Belareth replied. He feels the flames jump into his veins, it is Riklaun. he
is hunting him. Riklaun t ells Belareth to meet him at the inn of
Crossergate and of course he obliges. Belareth meets with him at the inn and
Riklaun proposes a battle and they are off to the hills. "I know I am
outmatched, but my elven blood boils to think of the atrocitie s that Riklaun
has committed." Belareth thinks to himself.
Entering Neverwinter, Wild Wil felt an uneasy shiver creep up his
spine. A bird was calling out. This would not seem so unusual, but it seemed
to cry vengeance. His instincts told him that evil was abroad and he could
only think of what Rikla un had done.
A quick look in the sewers showed that he was not there. No... evil
has a way of being in harder areas. It had to be the woods, our beloved woods
now infested with a drow. Hardly in control of himself, Wild Wil hasted away
to the Lost Hills i n search. Keen elven senses indicated that The presence
was ever growing nearer. Upon entering the hills, shivers coursed through the
veins of knowledge of what was to be found.
Entering a glade, Wild Wil saw an elf Belareth engaging in battle
with Riklaun. "Did Belareth have knowledge of the songblade dance and could
he endure the trial of a possessed Riklaun?" Wild Wil thought. Diving in, he
claimed that atoneme nt for what had been done, must be paid.
Riklaun knew he was lulled into a false sense of security with 2
angry elves against him. Angry monsters attacked, but Belareth was able to
hold them at bay while spells flashed through the air. One could see in
Riklaun's eyes that he was bes ides himself. Remembering old friendships of
days gone by and knowing the value of a life, especially an elf. Wild Wil's
sword whistled in a maneuver, even Riklaun did not suspect. Rather than
killing him, the dreaded dagger was slashed from it's sh eath to fall to the
ground. Belareth moved down to allow the monsters to take position in the
fight for distraction. While a stunned elf watched, Wild Wil grabbed a great
stone from mother earth while whispering an ancient spell, and slamming it
upo n the dagger in attempt to release it's hold upon his once friend. The
last thing Wild Wil remembered was a thundering explosion and smoke.
Rising, Belareth quickly came to Wild Wil's aid. A small crater and
ashes were all that remained of the dagger. They were still in the glade and
alive. But where had Riklaun gone... maybe carried to the gate. Checking
there, they found tracks , but to no avail.
Heavy footsteps sound on the ground. The quiet of the woods near
Berun's Hill echo the sound through the dead trees. A faint moaning sound
can be heard as the wind blows through the tree tops. "Riklaun...." it
says. "Riklaun, come to m e..."
The figure looks a bit worse for the wear, his hair unkempt, the
clothes torn and tattered. The heavy plate mail is scorched in places. Blood
stains cover the plate, turning it a devilish red. The man drives on to his
destination, dauntles s of the fact that evil surround this place. No living
creature would attempt crossing Berun's Hill alone.
The wind picks up and blows the hair out of the face of the creature.
Eyes, tainted with red can be seen shining out from deep sockets. The
finely chiseled features of an Albino drow are marked with contortions as he
wrestles with an unknow n force.
The battle with Wild Will took much out of him. The resulting
explosion from the destruction of the Dagger of Infinite Slaying threw him
against the wall. The weapon's evil spirits, escaping the dagger's confines,
lept into Riklaun as he la y unconscious. New life and purpose surged into
his body and he found himself drawn here.
"Riklaun, come to me. You must repair that which has been destroyed.
Use the smithy in safety. We need more spirits..." Riklaun heard. "It
will be done master." Riklaun said. He hurried towards the small town
nestled amongst the tre es utop Berun's Hill.
Chapter 5
It was a brisk, clear day in early winter. The elf was lazily walking
along the road south towards Triboar. As he passed Dagnir en Taur'ohtar,
better known as Berun's Hill, he stopped suddenly. Quietly he examined the
mark in the trail. It wa s a footprint, but it was so shallow that most would
never have seen it. Whoever made this print had been very light on their
feet. Graywolf knew it had been made by an elf, and an elf who was in a
hurry. Silently drawing his sword, he headed in the direction of the tracks.
This was, after all, a fairly dangerous stretch of road. It seemed as if this
unknown elf might use some help.
After almost an hour, Graywolf saw a figure in the distance. It
appeared to be the elf he had been following, running lightly along the edge
of the road. The figure had a flowing black cloak that hid much of its
features. Knowing better than to call out, he stopped running and silently
cast a spell. A shimmering door opened in midair, and he stepped through.
Riklaun had been sprinting along the road all morning. He had made
good time from Longsaddle, and was nearly in Triboar. Suddenly, the air in
front of him seemed to bend. Riklaun stopped, drawing his swords as he
dropped into a defensive crou ch. Out of the magical door, stepped Thranduil
Graywolf. Riklaun's eyes widened a bit, then a sneer twisted onto his face.
Graywolf stopped short, the mischievous light in his eyes flared into an
angry, hot glare as he recognized the drow.
The first thoughts through Graywolf's mind were to wordlessly
slaughter this evil thing. Never before had rage so consumed him. Slowly,
however, a more reasonable voice forced itself into his thoughts. What would
have caused the actions of th is drow, once a friend? This was a question
that had long troubled the gold elf. If the drow had been sent to gain the
confidence of the Company so that he might be in place for use at a later
time, it would seem that he had failed. He had revealed h imself too early.
Yes, he had slain a few elves. But that crime alone could not justify the
trouble the drow had gone through to become trusted by the surface elves. So
what was his motivation? None really knew, and Graywolf had to find out.
Perhaps it had just been the magical dagger, there were tales of sentient
weapons possessing their wielders.
Slowly, Graywolf forced his rage down, the fires in his eyes calmed.
Riklaun had not moved, he just crouched low studying this tall elf before
him. " 'Quel undome, moriquendi," Graywolf began, "it has been a long time."
Riklaun took a quick s wing at Gray's head, just to feel out his defenses.
Almost without thinking, Graywolf blocked the swing, reversing his parry into
a thrust at Riklaun. Dodging away, Riklaun slowly circled. "The dagger has
been destroyed, why do you fight me," asked G raywolf as he fought to
maintain control. Without warning, Riklaun waded in, swords swinging with
incredible speed. Graywolf slowly gave ground, parrying both blades as
quickly as he could. Totally on the defensive, he gave up. Riklaun still did
not want to talk. For whatever reasons, he had always remained a drow in his
heart. He deserved no more chances to explain his actions.
Splitting his concentration, Graywolf began to cast a spell with his
free hand. Riklaun pushed in harder, believing he had gained the upper hand
already. Suddenly, a lightning bolt tore through his armor, sending him
sprawling out onto the ro ad. Shaking his head in amazement and pain, he
looked up to see the surface elf running towards him. Quickly, realizing his
vulnerability, he became invisible and rolled away. Graywolf stopped, trying
to tell where Riklaun might have gone. This time, however, the drow silently
slipped away, leaving no traces. After a moment, Graywolf was certain that
Riklaun had left the area. Fading into invisibility, he trotted off towards
Triboar hoping to find Riklaun again quickly.
Once in the city of Triboar, Graywolf began using detection spells to
find the invisible drow. After an hour of fruitless search, he finally found
him. Riklaun was trying to slip out of town to the south. Again, Graywolf
teleported in front o f the drow. Without a warning, Graywolf stepped out of
the portal and swung violently at the drow. As their swords hit, both of them
became visible. The crowd in the streets backed off quickly. Graywolf gave
himself over to his rage, channeling it in to his sword. Riklaun was slowly
pressed backwards, deeper into Triboar, away from the safety of the open
road.
Riklaun broke away from the fight, backing towards the door to the
Arena. Graywolf suddenly appeared much taller, somehow much more imposing
than Riklaun had ever remembered him being. Slowly Graywolf walked toward
Riklaun, seemingly in no hu rry, his eyes smoldering with hatred. Riklaun
backed into the arena, trying to find room to maneuver. Swordplay had not
helped, perhaps spells would. The drow began to cast. Seeing this, Graywolf
quickly put up a magical globe for defense. Riklaun's spell failed. Graywolf
countered with his own spells. The battle became a mix of furious swordplay
and quickly cast spells. Riklaun was tiring fast, and began to wonder if he
was overmatched.
Finally, a spell hit Riklaun that caused his muscles to contract,
forcing him to drop his swords. Another spell hit him, paralyzing him. He
looked to Graywolf, his once friend and tried his last trick. The pleading
look in his eyes might have worked, but Graywolf was too consumed with rage
to even notice. Bright lights flashed from his hands, tearing into Riklaun's
body, knocking the drow down. "Bragollach tel'llach," he spat out the words.
Flames sprang from his hand, arcing out to stri ke the drow. The explosion
was tremendous as the ball of fire spread over the room.
In the wake of the destruction, Graywolf walked over to where Riklaun
had been. There was nothing there but charred ground, the drow's body
apparently consumed by the fires of the angry elf. Part of Graywolf wished
that Riklaun had been willi ng to talk, willing to explain his actions. But,
this one was too dangerous to allow any mercy. Already he had slain too many
of the fair folk. This hunt needed to end, the drow had to die. Graywolf
silently shook his head as he got up. No longer did he seem quite as
imposing a figure as he had when in battle. He easily slipped away in the
crowd, a scowl on his face as he dropped deeply into troubled
thoughts.Trouble at the Warehouse District - Part 1
(Submitted by: Makmorg)
I have visited many towns and cities in my years of travel throughout the
Realm, from Waterdeep to Calisham, and have found one thing to be always
true. No matter how much beauty, splendor, and civility a town or city
boasted of, darkness always lurked outside it's walls like some foul
scavenger. It was an inescapable fact of life in the Realm.
The City of Neverwinter was no different. Mind you, it was an interesting
place to visit, as far as cities go, with its many fine inns, splendid shops,
and its beautiful indoor gardens, all within view of the enchanting
Neverwinter River, but once one left the town proper it was an entirely
different world, a world of crumbling relics and once thriving communities.
The Warehouse District, on the Northern edge of the town, once teemed with
frenetic merchants and skilled tradesmen making their daily pound of gold,
but like other nearby areas, the District had been surrendered to a creeping
darkness, an unknown evil which seemed to quietly lay siege to the outlying
parts of Neverwinter. Where once busy merchants plied their trade and the
large warehouses were filled to capacity with priceless goods from all over
the Realm, now stood empty, rubble strewn streets, delapidated, sagging
buildings, and the overpowering stench of filth. Even the shadows told tales
of hungry beasts and dark denizens prowling the area with little fear of
human reprisal. I am truly amazed that the few humans and demi-humans,
mostly inn keepers and merchants, who continue to do business here even
bother. I've always felt civilization was a thin veneer against the savagery
of the world.
I learned earlier from a city guard that the city's leader, Lord Nasher,
had put the call out to all adventurers in the region to help in the fight
against the darkness and decay encroaching on Neverwinter's boundary, of
course adding tales of vast treasure in the savage areas as an enticement for
would be heroes. Thinking of my reasons for being in the city, the thought
of any amount of treasure held little appeal. I was in Neverwinter for
vengeance against agents of the Zhentarim, the dreaded Black Network. A
long time ago Zhentarim assassins killed my wife and my two daughters,
innocent victims whose only crime was to accidently witness the murder of a
high level Sembian official. My life quest is to destroy Zhentarim
operations throughout the Realm, making them suffer as they have made me
suffer. To many I am known as Makmorg. To the Zhentarim I am known as the
Black Crossbow because of the special weapon I carry, a relic from my
mercenaries days with Black Jack Mordikan and the Black Crossbow Regiment.
My crossbow is sometimes the last thing many of foul worms see before I
dispatch them to the next plane of existence.
I came to Neverwinter following rumors of a diaboloical Zhentarim plot in
the region, though my sources could provide no detail as to their sinister
plans. My comrade, Trevor the One-Eyed, a fellow ex-mercenary suggested I
meet one of his contacts in Neverwinter, Duncan Stillwater, a merchant
middleman of sorts, who did business out of the Warehouse District. He was
an information broker, his eyes and ears attuned to the underworld happenings
of Neverwinter. As I looked around at the dark, lifeless streets, a fetid
breeze scouring my face, I could only guess what evil the Zhentarim were
bringing to this once thriving area. Whatever it was I would put an end to
it. With haste I navigated the muddy roads and the dim alleys and made my
way to Stillwater's living area. My large stature ensured that most of the
hidden creatures, whose furtive movements danced in the corners of my eyes,
stayed within their shadowy lairs. Two goblins, however, were not as
intelligent as their brethren. Two quick swipes of my sword and the
goblinoid race lost two more of its ilk.
I arrived at Stillwater's home in short time but was greeted by a
shattered, wooden door and the sounds of sobbing emanating from within the
old, musty structure. I quickly pulled out my Dwarven designed crossbow from
its custom sling across my back. A quick flick of a switch and the weapon
unfurled like a bird spreading it wings. A special 'slide' along the shaft
of the weapon quickly loaded a bolt. Gripping the weapon tightly I dove
through the remnants of the smashed doorway, shoulder first, and came up in a
crouch, the snout of my crossbow seeking targets. In a split second I took
in all that was before me. I was in a large storage area that was converted
into a makeshift living area. Soft straw covered the ground and the scent of
sweet grass assailed my senses. Simple furniture, mostly chairs and some
tables decorated the room, though some lay scattered and broken across the
room. Oil lamps hung about, keeping the area well lit and warm. There was,
however, no one to been seen. A sob then reached my ears, drifting from the
far end of the structure. Glancing over I saw huddled in a corner what
appeared to be a human female, her face buried in her hands. I approached
her slowly, my crossbow still held at the ready. Experience has taught me
never to take any situation for granted. Many an apparently innocent victim
have turned out to be a hungry vampire or some other dark creature. Well, at
least for me.
It was apparent a struggle had taken place and my intended contact, since
he was not readily visible, was the hapless victim. Probably taken away by
his assailants. The lack of any visible blood gave me the hope that he was
not killed in the conflict. I reached the woman, whose body shook with sobs,
and gently nudged here with the toe of my boot. Not noticing my presence
before, she jumped up, startled, and pushed herself backwards against the
wall. Fear painted her face a ghastly color. There was no time for
niceties.
"I'm a friend of Trevor the One-Eyed. What has happened here? Where's
Stillwater?"
The woman hesitated, looking up at me with tear stained eyes framed by dark
curls, then apparently recognizing Trevor's name spoke, softly at first.
"They...took him...about an hour ago. They came while I was in the storage
bin above. I hid in a crate. They were dressed in black armor."
Damn, Zhentarims! Apparently Stillwater's information business brought him
more than some extra gold on the side this time. Knowing those Black Network
ghouls they'll torture him to learn what information he has divulged about
their activities and to whom and then slit his throat. There was little time
to waste.
"Listen Lady...ah..."
"Katrina," She finished for me, "Katrina Stillwater. I'm his daughter."
"Well Katrina Stillwater, the Zhentarim are not ones to leave liabilities
behind. Is there somewhere safe for you to go?"
"Yes my father has many friends in Neverwinter who can watch over me. What
will they do to him?"
"I will not lie to you, he may already be dead. If he still breathes, I'll
do what I can to save him."
"You'll then need this." Her small hands pressed a jeweled, silver ring
into mine. "My father has the twin to this ring. The jewel glows brighter
the closer it is to the other. My father always feared we might end up
separated one day. I suppose he understood the nature of his work more than
I did. Please promise me you'll bring him back alive and unharmed."
Looking at the young, pretty face, I smiled and said,"Fret not lass, you
and your father shall soon be reunited." Holding up the magic piece of
jewelry I added wryly, "My words always ring true."
*****A New Family Found
(Submitted by: Ldy Felena)
It was a cold evening, and she felt a chill run up her spine as she climbed
the stairs to her room. She had spent the evening in the inn, this night,
for the snow had begun falling heavily outside. Even with the blazing fire
in the common room, she found herself fighting to keep warm, as she listened
to the tales told by adventurers who had come in for the night. She opened
the door to her room, and stepped inside, having forewarned young Jerod that
she would soon be retiring, to find a fire blazing on the hearth therein.
She sat on the massive Bugbear rug on the floor before the warmth of the
fire, clutching her cloak close about her, fighting the chill until her
shivering subsided and she began to relax. It was there that she drifted off
to sleep...
The silence was deafening, so close did it come after the terrible screams
that tore the night, and Felena sat there, waiting for more terror to begin.
She had never before been in the presence of an evil so intense, and she was
motionless in her fear. Why had she promised her mother she would not come
out? Was the MacRorie bloodline so important that it took precedence over
fighting at the side of her mother and father? Surely these evil beings had
to know that an heir survived, for a power so strong as this could never
reach out and not find her.
But to her utter astonishment, the being did not come for her in her hiding
place. She could faintly recall her mother's lips moving in a spell as she
secured the lid, catching only a few words before she was closed inside. Was
it a spell of Protection she had cast? Felena recalled mention of such
spells in her studies, but had never had the occasion to be able to test
them, as her mother had only just begun to train her in her Class. The only
spells she had perfected were those of healing, and bless.
When she was sure the evil had passed, she pushed open the lid of the
hiding place and climbed out. Dead bodies of Orcs and Hobgoblins littered
the bed chamber, and she had to catch herself as she stumbled over them. She
walked slowly, as in a trance, the shock so great that she could barely put
one foot in front of the other, searching the room for any sign of her mother
or father.
As she rounded the end of the huge bed that dominated the room, she caught a
glimpse of familiar fabric along the floor. "NOOOOOOOOO!" she screamed, the
sound of which pulled in all the agony she felt. Her world was ripped from
her at the sight of her mother's near lifeless body. She dropped to her
knees beside her mother and began to incant the healing spells she had been
taught.
She cast, and rememorized, cast and rememorized, again and again, until it
became mechanical in sequence. But the more she tried, the faster her mother
seemed to slip away.
"Oh, LORD TYR!!!!!!!" she screamed, "PLEASE HELP ME!!!" "DON'T LET IT END
THIS WAY!!!" she cried out in desperation. Tears streamed down her face, as
she fought against the anguish that threatened to overwhelm her. Time seemed
to stretch forever, and when she thought all was lost she felt the touch of
her mother's hand on hers. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked
into her mother's eyes. "My darling Felena," she said, so quietly that Felena
wasn't sure if she had heard her, or if it was all in her mind. "The Lord
Tyr has in mind for you great things, my daughter. He will see that you are
lead to the path of righteousness, if you will only..."she broke off, seized
by a fit of coughing. She calmed again and continued "Trust in him my
daughter."
Anger rose up in her, a feeling so intense, so full of hate that it
threatened to swallow her whole. "I will avenge thee, Mother!!" She vowed,
her voice again raising in volume to a shout. "Nay, my sweet
Felena....revenge is for the weak, and the evil. Ye have always been so
strong..."her voice began to fade until Felena could barely hear her. "Tyr
will guide ye..." a large gasp of air... "Lord Helm, protect my baby!!!!
Lord Tyr guide her on her way, Lord Oghma grant her wisdom in her quest for
good!! I love thee, my precious child." She reached out toward her
daughter's cheek to wipe away the free falling tears, and breathed her last
breath. Felena watched in mute horror as the room around her began to spin
and she lapsed into unconsciousness.
The chill seemed to seep to the very depth of her bones, shivers shaking
her body so violently that they resembled convulsions. She opened her eyes
to find herself on the floor near the now stone cold hearth. She heard the
wind whipping about fiercely and shook herself awake. Snow blew in from the
full open window, blowing the heavy drapes so furiously that they seemed to
stand out straight from the wall. She struggled to her feet, half tripping
on the cloak in her haste to get to the window. "How could that have
happened," she wondered, "For I know fully that the window was bolted
securely this night." She pushed hard against the windows and secured them
with the latch.
As she turned toward her bed, now spackled with snow, she noticed something
odd out of the corner of her eye. Had she imagined it? She stumbled on the
rug as she approached the hearth, feeling her way along until her fingers
closed upon the flint and steel there. She struck them together several
times until the sparks rekindled the flames of the hearth. Glancing warily
toward the door, she saw it then in the flickering light. A black dagger
protruded from the door, holding a small piece of parchment.
As she approached the door, she realized that it was the same one that was
presented to her upon Jared's return from his mission'. But there was
something different about it. The wax seal had been penetrated by the
dagger, and beneath it, written in crimson, were the words "I shall be
waiting! Not even KORT shall protect ye!!!" She pulled the archment from the
door, feeling a chill pass through her as her hand touched the paper. She
thought she heard someone scream as she crumbled to the floor.
A warmth surrounded her, and a moan escaped her lips as she attempted to
open her eyes. Her lids felt heavy, and as hard as she tried, she could not
open them. The soft place where she lay seemed to support her as though she
were floating on a cloud. She heard the sounds of muffled voices, male and
female, just quiet enough were they that she could not quite make out what
was being said. She moaned again. Putting forth all the force of will she
could muster, she again attempted to open her eyes. This time she was
successful, but the focus was blurry. The voices stopped, and she heard foot
steps approaching her resting place.
"Ah, you come back to us," came the female voice, one she did not
recognize, but at whose presence she felt no fear. "We were quite concerned
for you, young Page. We thought you might depart this world before we could
get to you." Young page? Her hearing must be blurry too, she thought. She
blinked hard, and the room began settle, bringing the kind face attached to
the voice into focus for the first time. "I am Iser, healer of KORT,"she said
answering Felena's question before she spoke it. "Where is this place, for
it is surely unfamiliar to me, or is this another dream?" "It is no dream,
Felena," Iser said with a smile. "You are within the walls of Camelot, now."
"C-Camelot?!" the word echoing the incredulity she felt within her. Her
heart beat rapidly, as though it would burst. "You may thank young Jared
there, for bringing us word of your collapse. Had he not come when he did,
the poison from the paper you held would certainly have ended your time on
this earth." She briefly remembered the sequence of events upon wakening in
her room in the Inn. Struggling to sit on the soft bed, she was stilled by
Iser's firm yet gentle touch.
"Nay, do not get up. You are not yet strong enough," she commanded and
Felena fell back against the softness.
"I beg forgiveness dear lady, for I mean to trouble you not," Felena said
in earnest. "Surely, the members of this great guild take precedence over a
mere stranger."
"You are no stranger to us, Page Felena." There, she said it again. Her
brain could not possibly be that fuzzy. "Pardon me, Lady, for I fear my
hearing has failed me. Said you, Page Felena'?" she asked. A chuckle could
be heard from the far side of the room, a familiar sound to her ears. "Your
hearing is just fine, Page Felena!" said the voice, as the all familiar eyes
met hers. She looked at his face, questioningly, and he replied "The missive
was delayed by the snow. Your acceptance to the guild has been in effect for
a fortnight, but the weather was too bad for the messengers to venture forth
except in an emergency,"
Str explained. A smile lit up her face, and true peace settled upon her.
"KORT is your family, now, Felena. Never again shall thee be alone." "Aye
Felena," said another female voice.
"Welcome to the family." She heard the words of the latter voice, echoed
by several others, both male and female. "I am Lady Nalika," spoke the woman
again, her sparkling eyes meeting Felena's. "We shall speak again when you
are well. For now, rest easy. Tyr is with thee."
She returned Nalika's smile, with one of sincere gratitude. "I thank thee,
m'lady," she answered, her eyes growing heavy again. She heard the sound of
Iser's voice incanting a spell of rest as she drifted into a dreamless
sleep.PAL Story
(Submitted by: PAL Lobur)
The Drow looked outside the GuildHouse, to be sure no one was in position to
observe his departure. He carried the title of "PAL" proudly, but there were
times when it was useful not to be immediately recognized as a member of a
guild. Much happened in the Neverwinter that would not take place if a PAL
was present, and he in particular was known to have a particular hatred for
the Zhentarim agents who slipped into Neverwinter intent on creating chaos
with illegal magic. This particular group, who had been nicknamed "Hackers"
by the Neverwinter authorities, had caused his incarceration in the dungeons
a few weeks earlier, and he had publicly pronounced his vendetta against
them.
So on regular occasions, he went forth as plain Lobur, in the guise of an
Drow fighter/mage/thief, not a hard act for a ranger/mage. It gave him the
opportunity to gather information, to observe potential recruits, and to see
much that a PAL would not. Of course, a Drow with twin rows of multicolored
scars down his face, and a braid to the small of his back was not easy to
disguise, but the simple lack of a PAL insignia was often sufficient to make
others unwary.
He pulled up the hood of his cloak, and slipping outside, melded into the
darkness. He'd decided to scout Floodblest tonight. He needed a little
tactical excercise in dealing with cloud giants, and they were usually out
harrassing passers-by in Floodblest at night. He caught sight of PAL Cyndre
standing in front of the Inn, and greeted him. His guildsib gave no signs of
recognition. Excellent. His brethren were protecting his cover. It also
occurred to him that perhaps the other simply did not know him, and he
chuckled. Good possibility, since he'd only been back a few weeks. In either
case, it served his purposes.
He cast a spell of invisibility over himself, and slipped out the east gate.
He always made a point of waiting until he was far from the Guild House, for
anyone watching departures would have means of detecting magic in use, and
this would serve to attract immediate attention.
Lobur soon reached the final trail to Floodblest, and checked his weapons. He
hefted the mace that PAL MattH had given him the day before, to replace the
scimitar he had lost in the sewers battling fire giants. It was a marvelous
weapon, equal in dweomer to the scimitar, but he missed the delicate grace of
bladework. He sighed. Perhaps he could find another, and then he could pass
the mace on to someother PAL in need.
He trotted up the trail, skirting to avoid a fight, after checking that the
adventurers had matters in control. The trail was actually quiet tonight...
it was still early evening, and that would no doubt change.
At the Rankled Boar, he stopped, and took a room to rememorize his
Invisibility spell. The innkeep acted as if being addressed by a disembodied
voice, or platinum pieces appearing out of thin air was an everyday
occurence. Which, Lobur reflected, was probably the case, given the number of
mages running around Neverwinter these days.
Four and a half hours later, he left, heading north, searching for the hidden
passage where the giant liked to ambush the unwary, and smiling, kicked the
wall a few times, to bring them from hiding.
As he'd hoped, a group of bugbears, led by a cloud giant, sprang from cover,
then stopped, looking around in bewilderment for someone to attack. The giant
was scanning the area intently... it would be a matter of moments before the
Drow was spotted.
He whispered the incantation, letting the grains of sand drizzle from his
hand, and watched as the spell of sleep took hold of two of the bugbears in
the center of the passage. Lobur frowned... he'd hoped to catch the one
standing to the north as well. "By the disease-ridden tripes of Baal!" he
cursed, and quickly pulled out another handful of sand. As he started to
incant again, the cloud giant bellowed at the bugbears, and pointed directly
at the Drow. The two in front of the giant started forward, then slumped to
the ground with a sigh.
Lobur grinned, drawing the mace to engage the last bugbear. With the others
blocking the passage, the giant couldn't attack him. As soon as he finished
this one off, he could start softening the CeeGee up from a distance. He
ducked a wild spear thrust, and whipping the mace up underhand, caught the
goblinoid in the area that most males find the most disabling. The bugbear
screamed, and fell to it's knees, and Lobur brought the mace crashing down on
its head.
Now back to business...
The hissing syllables of the Fireball spell sprang from his lips, and the
spell exploded behind the giant, hurling it to the ground. Chuckling, Lobur
watched the giant pick itself up, charred, but not critically injured. Ok,
big guy, let's see if we can give you a little charge. The giant began moving
back and forth, ducking behind a wall, searching for a way to get at this
pipsqueak that had singed it, but a Drow in the dark is hard to see. It was
too canny to try climbing over it's slumbering comrades... it had no idea
what it was facing, and it would be a sitting duck. Lobur glided to the south
side of the corridor, and tapped the wall there. As he'd hoped, the giant
fell for it, lunging to that side of the doorway. Lobur crept back to the
north side, putting the giant betwee a wall and himself, and spat out the
words to the spell. The lightning bolt flashed across the corridor, hitting
the cloud giant hard, impacting on the stone wall, and rebounding back.
Twisting, it was able to dodge the brunt of the second impact, but it was
still hurt. The Drow cursed again as the bolt shot back at him, dissapating
several feet in front of him.
He incanted a quick magic missile spell, and watched it take the giant in the
chest, frinning as the behemoth went to it's knees, and then fell, face
first. Whistling a jaunty tune, he drew his belt knife, and dispatched the
sleeping bugbears.
He rifled through the bodies, and pocketted tucked the gold and platinum in
his Bag of Holding. A scroll he tucked away in his pack for future study.
Lobur checked his surroundings, and then casting the Invisibility spell
again, pulled out his spellbook, and found a corner to study.
He'd barely started to read when he heard the heavy footfalls of another
giant, and looked up to see another patrol pouring through the door. Stupid,
stupid, stupid! he berated himself. He should have known better than to
remain so close to the bodies. Silently he rose, and took stock of his
situation. It looked grim. He had only a Magic Missile and a Stinking Cloud
left in the way of offensive spells. There was a sleep scroll in his belt
pouch.
Ther was no hope of escape. This new cloud giant was blocking the doorway,
and the bugbears were fanning out to look for whoever had butchered their
kin. Shrugging to himself, the Drow pulled out the scroll, and began reading
it.
One bugbear slumped to the ground. Lobur cursed, and frantically cast the
Stinking Cloud, hoping to nauseate at least a couple of them. One fell to the
ground, wretching. Sighing in frustration, he cast the Magic Missile at the
giant, watching with grim satisfaction as it clutched it's chest in pain.
When in doubt, attack. He closed with the northernmost bugbear, and finished
it off with two strokes of the mace, then screeched in pain as two arrows
from across the corridor took him in the side. He leapt southward, trying to
close with the archers, and keep them between himself and the giant. He was
successful. Moments later, he stood facing the giant across two stretched out
bodies. He sucked in a deep breath, and screaming the warcry of the tribe
that had spawned the body he'd worn before being reincarnated, lunged
forward.
He landed one swat with the mace, and had the satisfaction of seeing the
giant reel in pain, before a fist the size of a large dog caved in his chest.
As he flew back across the room, he felt the tendrils of the blanket
Contingency spell that covered all of the Neverwinter area take hold, to wisk
him away.
He came to at the gate, groaning at the pain in his battered body. The
Contingency sealed wounds, and mended bones, but only time and rest would
take care of the remaining damage, unless he wanted to spend an arm and a leg
at the temple. He opted for the rest, and limped throught the gate toward
Neverwinter...There and Back
(Submitted by: Wld Wil)
There and Back
The night wind howled furiously around a tall spherical tower, known as
the place of magic. This structure was a lofty cylinder made of polished grey
stone. Its sight hinted of strange mystic ways. Few, if any, even dared go
near it.
The unique magics secretly contained within were unlike any other in the
land. No one knew what fanciful things occurred within. Only rumors came
close to what really was.
A mage lived there, whom by human standards would be considered ancient.
A distant elven heritage helped to accomplish this, but some believed that it
was preservation through magic.
The only other occupant was a hired servant, who was both deaf and dumb
from birth. Though not ill treated, he led a life that was simple with few
comforts. The nights spent within the tower were much better than looking for
a place to lay his head outside.
The mage, with hair tussled and a sneer on his face, went about with
experiments that no one even dreamed about. This dwelling represented him; a
hermit, outcast and one set apart from others. He viewed it as a private
refuge, being chosen from among others for greatness and supreme from other
mortals.
Working his way to the top of his tower one dark night, the mage passed
his servant, turned and paused. As if coming to some private decision, he
signed to his servant that tonight he was conducting some work and it may
appear that he would be in his room for days if not weeks or months. He gave
stern warnings that no one should enter. In return, the servant could remain
in the tower until this experiment was over. Of course, the servant
graciously accepted.
With this small bit of business complete, the old mage entered the top
room in the tower where he had labored for years, hoping that this would be
the night of success. He knew what others thought, but did not care. He
wasn't evil. He wanted to accomplish travel through time and rule the world,
for he was the chosen one. Ludicrous? perhaps. But his success was nearing.
Gazing into a hand mirror created years ago during his study of time
dimensions, he saw that today was the day. This particular mirror, at first
thought a failed discovery, led to other theories of time travel. It was
limited in viewing only previous minutes of time focused on his own actions,
but showed that time could be seen and manipulated.
A smile crossed his face as he cast a hold spell upon the door lock and
drew velvet covers off two hoops of gold about 4 foot in diameter.
Finally, spells that took nearly a lifetime to devise, could be chanted.
The gestures were made and chants were finally being spoken aloud for
the first time.
A swirling mist formed filling the rings, but not expanding past
confines of the gold bands.
Now it was time for the greatest test. Drawing in a deep breath, the
first possible master of time stepped through into the swirling midst. It was
as if dusk just settled and static could be felt in the air. A beam of light
over yonder softly penetrated an area of the midst. That had to be the exit
through the second portal that he had created, he reasoned.
While advancing towards it, a searing pain struck his side, not
life threatening, but enough to cause great pain. Reaching back, the shaft of
a dart could be felt. A crazed laughter could be heard cutting through the
darkness. What enemy could be in here with him he wondered? The needle need
be removed quickly and the area bandaged. Then things could be planned.
Crawling into the light, the mage finds himself once again in his lab.
Yes, I have done it.... I've made it there and back, he thought gleefully to
himself. But for now, I must cleanse this wound.
Pulled gently the dart's needle slid out with not as much pain as
expected. In fact the whole area felt numbed. This was not right. When the
mage turned and reached for his salve, he noticed with shock that a vial of
paralyzing poison was out of its place and worst yet the seal on it
compromised. That is what's causing the numbing. What to do... What to do?
Thinking to himself he grabbed his mirror to see. Viewing it, he saw
himself entering the portal with his own dart in hand. Of course, he thought,
I control time. I can just go and stop my attacker before he poisons me. Then
the wound will never have occurred.
Grinning, he grabbed a dart and dipping it in the vial, he ran to the
portal. Let this assassin suffer the fate the was meant for me. He was the
master of time, and he knew how to bend it to his advantage.
Limping with his leg slowly going numb, he stepped through the portal.
The mist and eerie feeling was expected this time, he used it to his
advantage for cover.
A figure rose near him. Without any hesitation he let the dart fly,
knowing that he had to end this evil now. The target collapsed.
Ducking back into the midst, he knew it would only be a matter of time
before the assassin died and the wound in his side should simply disappear
since it never happened.
A howl of laughter once again cut through the midst, sounding the same
as before. Could the assassin still have succeeded? he wondered.
Shuffling his slowing legs, he went again through the light back into
his lab. Everything looked as he left it. Why had the dart not disappeared
yet?
Picking up his mirror and slumping to the ground, he looked for some
type of way out and an answer to his dilemma.
Seeking the mirror for a response he saw himself cast his dart and
strike its target, but that he already knew. How had the killer still
succeeded? Bending the mirror with all his will, he focused on the killer as
he fell to the floor.
A look of terror crossed his face as the mirror showed the killer
entering into the well lit lab and revealed to his dismay that it was
himself. Horrors.... I've been there and back! He thought dreadfully to
himself. It was myself all along.
The creeping paralysis gripped him even more tightly, climbing up past
his legs towards his chest. Knowing that even his servant could not hear or
come rescue him now, he let loose an agonizing laughter realizing his fate.
This howl of mad laughter once again cried out, sounding the same
as before. For the laughter came from the mage who was his own assassin, who
had also been both there and back again.Interlude
(Submitted by Chronos)
As the sun finaly disapeared behind the the mountains Chronos looked
down at the great two handed sword in his hands and he thinks to
himself........
" Here we go again."
His mind quickly flashes over the last few days and nights.Since bieng
brought to the Camarilla he had eaten little and slept even less! For he was
almost never alone, only the first few hours of night when the Vampires left
to feed.
The first night was nothing short of hell,As the nosferatu gathered to
torture,and test the Paladin.The night came to a violent crescendo when
Darkheart decided to put it on a more physical level,punching Chronos in the
face,in a flash Chronos had Gadvin,(his two handed sword) in his hands and
had squared of with Darkheart.It was then that Lord Saul decided to
intervene, telling Darkheart that it was not yet time for Chronos to die.
The second night was far less violent but no less torturous as Saul kept
Chronos busy doing menial jobs around the Camarilla as if he were a common
slave.
The third night was was probably the worst,Several of the female
vampires returned from feeding early so they could be alone with the
Paladin,they lounged around the domicile wearing almost nothing,purring for
Chronos to let them comfort him in his hour of need.They were beautiful to
behold, theyre bodies exquisite in the moonlite,one of them even went so far
as to go up and press her body against his so he could feel her sensuous
touch.But through it all Chronos could only think of how much he missed his
beloved Bethara,and he hoped beyond all hope that he would be allowed to gaze
into her eyes and taste of her lips one last time before he died.
Chronos turned and headed down the stairs that led into the
Camarilla,he quickly moved across the great room which served as the main
meeting hall for the Nosferatu, and took up his standard watch position in
front of the door leading into the private chambers of Lord Saul.One by one
the members filtered into the room,after a short while the door to Saul's
room opened and a hush fell over the room as he spoke...........
" Go my children, go and let the citizens of Neverwinter know who rules
when darkness envelopes the land."
" And what of you Lord Saul." says Selena, arguably the most beautiful
of all the vampires.
" Tonight, I dine in." says Saul pointing to Chronos
This is met with evil laughter as the Vampires leave to begin their hunt
for food in the town of Neverwinter.
TO BE CONTINUED <><><><><>
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