1996-04-14
Recovered original text · preserved verbatim
==========oOo==========
NEVERWINTER NEWS
Issue # 129
Week Ending 4-14-96
==========oOo==========
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
FRONT PAGE
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Congratulations to MoradinSon for winning last week's News of the Realm
contest for the story "Dwyvyrn's Home" (Poem for Dwyvyrn).
MoradinSon has earned the choice of 4 Pearls or Access to the GOH (Guild of
Heroes). Keep up the good work! ;D
<><><><><>
<><><><><>
Lightning Bolt Booth Winner - 4/6 1am
Winner: Tac Nomed
Prize : 5 pearls
Tac Nomed won the mini-event with the lowest damage from 2 LB's with only 29
hp's damage.
-- NWA Shaggy
<><><><><>
<><><><><>
April Trivia Winners!!
April 2, 1996
__________
*** First Place - Gherkin II 34 points! ***
** Second Place - Llewdoc 21 points! **
* Third Place - Snaak 15 points! *
Random Drawing Winner - Thorn Hawk
____________________________________________________
The winners will have the time credited to their account and pearls credited
to their screen name.
* First Place - 4 FREE hours and 25 Pearls
* Second Place - 3 FREE hours and 20 Pearls
* Third Place - 2 FREE hours and 15 Pearls
* Random Drawing - 5 Pearls
Congrats and thanks from NW Baldor and NW Strahd : )
<><><><><>
<><><><><>
Location Hunt Winner - 4/9
Tonights NW Mini Event Location Hunt winner was NOR Ashtar. NOR Ashtar was
the first person to the Clued/Location that I was seeking. NOR Ashtar will
receive 4 pearls and 1 free hour for their efforts.
CONGRATS !!!!
-NW Lenox :>
<><><><><>
<><><><><>
PvP the Staff Booth Winners - 4/9 6-8pm ET
The call went out to test the battle prowess of the citizens of Neverwinter!
I, NW Kregar sparred with 15 contestants to see how good their skills are.
Congrats to Mob Hawk and SK Farah for besting me! Mob Hawk and SK Farah each
win 3 pearls for their victory!
Congratulations! All fought well!
NW Kregar ;>
<><><><><>
<><><><><>
Tour 4/9 10pm-1am
***** Rumors from CrosserGate *****
The call to arms was raised from the square in front of Lord Nasher's
Palace. A rumor had reached Lord Nasher of a conspiracy against him, and he
had tasked me with assembling a brave set of adventurers and seeking out more
information. A stout group of volunteers came forth, jostling each other,
eager to be off. Hillrb, Zhanarax, Tvmrjg, K13Pierce, Dos Dragon, Ashaef and
another traveled with me as we headed south, towards Crossergate.
The journey through the Southwall was without incident, and our brave group
was enbolded by this. Once into Vilnask, the traveling became rougher, and
we were beseiged by wolves and lumberering tree's that whiped at us with
their branches. Yet before we knew it, we had reached the inn. As we cleaned
our wounds and checked our provisions, NW Snowie, Captain of the Guard,
joined us, our paths headed in the same direction for a short while. Almost
immediately after we had left the inn, we ran into a Banshee and her human
entourage of Kraken spys. A few of our party were scared as she screamed in
rage at us, yet with Snowie's strong arm, and the mighty blade swinging of
our party, we were victorious. We encountered two more Banshee's as we
traveled towards Crossergate, but they both fell to our blades.
As we ventured under the sign pointing towards Crossergate, my party had
dwindled to but 6. Hillrb, Zhanarax, Tvmrjg, K13Pierce, Dos Dragon and
myself were all that remained. We encountered strong resistance from the
Wolves and Ice hounds that roamed the area, and were it not for a few helpful
passer-by's, may not have made it to the town.
All was quiet as we left the inn, searching and finding a secret door
nearby. With stealth and caution we made our way deeper into the hidden
area, battling trolls, bulette's, boars and ogre mages and frogs. We lost
Dos Dragon to a Yeti, and more still to the displacer beasts. As my group
finally confronted the Cleric and his band, only Hillrb and K13Pierce
remained by my side. A spell of fire brought down all but the cleric and his
icy pet of a dog. With quickness that I could not follow, Hillrb was held in
place by a spell, and K13Pierce halted his movement seconds after. Yet we
had hurt them enough, and as the fled to die their own deaths, my comrades
and I searched their belongings. We found a note, the contents of I cannot
say, but Nasher had to know of it immediately!
Rushing back to the palace, we gave Lord Nasher the news, and he rewarded
us from his vaults. My thanks to all who participated!
NWA Taltos
<><><><><>
<><><><><>
Minor Gauntlet Booth Winners - 4/10 9pm ET
Location 14,2 Southwall..
After invading the thieves hideout they had to run the guantlet..
The following were victorious..
Devin Tir
Vinavar
Agitado
Nor Keser
Eldemar Ne
Kulvra
Xanna Rose
Abzzsta1n
Lady Ellyn
Panzermagi
Lion Kom
All winners of 2 pearls.. Survived a Charm, Poison, and a Hold.. Nice job one
and all..
NW Hobbes
<><><><><>
<><><><><>
April GoH booth #1 Winners!!
"April GoH booth went underway and the contest was to see who could take the
least and most damage from lightning bolts.
Congratulations to Mershu, who took the least damage and wins 3 pearls. Also,
Abzzcesse wins our "shocking" award, taking home 6 pearls by taking the most
damage ;)"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
winner 1: Abzzcesse
prize: 6 pearls
winner 2: Mershu
prize: 3 pearls
-- NW Strahd
<><><><><>
<><><><><>
New Player Tour - 4/12 10pm
Putting out the call for adventurers, I gathered a group and headed to
investigate troubles in Windycliffs. Joining me were Dnairb, Gilmagee, SS
Drkbolt, Panargus, Mge Merlin, Taroden, and DJohn30729. The trip through the
Warehouse District was uneventful, except for the case of "Pun-itis" that
seemed to strike everyone in the group. :D (That's "Pun", not that other
nasty "P" word, thank goodness! :D) Mge Merlin excelled at changing clothes
frequently, and everyone commented on his dress...er, kilt. :> At one point
he even picked up a style exactly like my own! Boy, was that confusing! :D
Taroden excelled at returning from the dead at least three times, finding his
way solo back to our location! :D We battled all manner of monsters in the
streets of Windycliffs, and were set upon by roving bands of thieves.
Finally, we found a cloud giant with his arsenal of Lizards, but with this
group of brave adventurers, we easily defeated them! Great job everyone!
--Sparkle
<><><><><>
<><><><><>
Location Hunt Winner - 4/13 4pm
Clue: A sign over the door reads "Neverwinter Health Society".
Congrats to Lord Osris who found the 0,13 in the Wharves first. He wins 4
pearls and one hour online time.
-- NW Sparkle
<><><><><>
<><><><><>
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
NEVERWINTER CALENDAR
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Keep an eye peeled for those Mini-Booths 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:
Join the following staff members for a tour of the Realm:
April 15th Monday 9:00 PM EST - with NW Vorpal.
April 18th *Thursday 12:00 AM EST - with NW Zephyr.
April 20th Saturday 6:00 PM EST - with NW Dain.
* Technically this is Friday but we listed it as Thursday night at midnight
for simplicities' sake. ;>
Those interested in any of these tours should keep an eye out for the banner
telling where to meet! ;D
<><><><><>
<><><><><>
Congratulations to Moradinson for winning
last week's News of the Realm contest for
the story "Dwyvyrn's Home".
Moradinson has earned the choice of 4 Pearls
or Access to the GOH (Guild of Heroes).
Keep up the good work! ;D
WPC Championship Tournament
(submitted by: Sir Rellik)
Slayve, Demon God of KAAOS has just won the 10 week long WPC tourneyment. A
tourneyment that included some of the best PVPers in Neverwinter. Here is
the play by play of his impressive victory.
*************************************************************
Voracious flame consumed all. The scarlet heat proved suitable background
for the WPC CHAMPIONSHIP FIGHT that was to occur here this fortnight. The
bright crimson flames spread and flowed like a mighty river, writhed as
exquisitely as a tortured KEFer and sent blazing tendrils and blossoms
creeping froth with inexhaustible, plantlike energy.
In the midst of this conflagration stood the demon known simply as Slayve.
Slayve, the most destructive fighting force ever known in the world of
Neverwinter. Seeing Sylphee through the smoke, Slayve raised his hand and
spoke five hard-edged and harsh words.
Even as she gathered himself for an attack on the Demon God of KAAOS, Sylphee
felt herself slow as if her feet had become frozen. The Champion of KORT had
time for one last scream as the Demon of Death advanced upon her, a murderous
gleam in his eyes of doom.
Smiling grimly as Slyphee tried desperately to break loose from his deadly
hold on her, The Son of the Seventh Hells cocked back his obsidian flail
"Flesh Flayer" as he advanced upon his clumsy foe, raining a blinding array
of torturing strokes on his outclassed opponent.
Suddenly a powerful smash crushed through Slyphee's rib cage ripping a huge
bloody hole in her chest. With a sickening wet sucking sound, Slayve
pulled "Flesh Flayer" from the massive wound and grinned with pleasure at
the blood and gore that dripped from its triple killing heads.
Slyphee could only scream in horror at the gruesome extent of her wounds.
Fumblingly she dropped her mace and with a sickening sideward lurch, pitched
to the ground.
Raising his flail high over Slyphee's neck, Slayve brought it down, using
the strength of his entire hellish immortal frame. With a smashing crunch,
the fallen woman's motions ceased as the back of her head was splintered
into uncountable bloody brain drenched fragments.
Stopping to collect the soul of his latest victim, her remaining eye socket
reflecting the red leaping flames and smoke veiled sky, Slayve raised his
arms to the sky as he was proclaimed the once, future and CURRENT WPC
CHAMP!!!!!!!!!!
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Congratulations Sidekick! Heh! Heh!In Defense
of Neverwinter
(submitted by: Bilyo)
Tis a dark day. It has been dark for the time that we have been traveling.
Damn weather has been unyielding rain, very few times this week have we had
any light. The weather seems to follow our mood, the angrier we get, the
worse the weather. Me and my men have been marching against this weather for
a week. It hasn't bothered us, for we have learned to accept this weather,
for it is like our life styles, dark and morbid. Our clan has been called to
march against weather like this before, for when it looks like this, we know
what is happening, somewhere.
Two weeks ago, a messenger of Lord Nasher brought a sealed letter to our clan
leader. In this letter, Lord Nasher stated that a group of trolls and humans
had attacked Neverwinter, then retreated after being held off, to the Lost
Hills. Thought they had fended them off, they took heavy losses and were sure
that another strategic attack like that would surly result in the destruction
of Neverwinter. We were promised a million gems, and fine weaponry for the
decimation of this force, and our chaotic band has been without carnage for a
time now.
So here we are, me and two hundred of my best men, standing strong and
marching against the wind. Not a word is spoken amongst the ranks, and we
march with little rest, for we are eager to here the sound of battle and feel
the pulse of death once more. Even when we are resting, most men are cleaning
there weapons or honing there skills, I am tanning the hide of the elk I had
just killed, which will soon be made into a new sling. As we march, I can
sense the eagerness among my men, for some it is there first combat.
***
As we draw near to the Lost Hills, I can sense that this will be more than a
few brigands and a handful of trolls. The way that lord Nasher had wrote his
letter, and the fact that neverwinter is one of the most feared nations, all
pointed to the fact that these attackers had both a strong and powerful
leader, and that this attack was not random. I can feel that my men think the
same as I, for I look at there faces and see fear, not fear of death, but
fear that a loss may humiliate out clan, for we are known for our brutalities
and our drive to destroy any foe that we must beat. I have noticed the sky
too, it has grown pitch black, day and night, as we grow in our strength and
anger.
Last night, we planed our attack upon the enemy. We have chosen to attack,
not behind them when they are asleep, but a frontal attack during what is
supposed to be daylight.. We have chosen to attack, not behind them when they
are asleep, but a frontal attack during what is supposed to be daylight. As
we discussed our attack method around a great fire, I gripped my mace, with
which I had crushed many skulls, so tight, I could feel the pulse in my
fingers stop.
***
We are a afternoon's march from the enemy camp. My men are practicing for the
attack, for they are testing there fighting skills and strength for the up
coming battle. I am testing my accuracy of my sling upon a tree twenty feet
away, and Khaell, my most fearsome fighter and trusted friend, is throwing
hand axes at a target made of scrap wood and hay. I can feel my men are
ready, and I am starting to build a great pile of wood for a great
conflagration. I have a fire such as this every day before combat, for it
strengthens my men and send fear through the spines of my foes.
The attack shall be quick, for I have spied upon the enemy and I have seen
their disorganization. In there camp, trolls and barbarians roam the camp
with crude weapons in their hands, arguing constantly. I find it hard to
believe that neverwinter had trouble with a measly group such as this. This
fight shall be an easy one.
***
Our attack came swift, and even though most of the enemy were roaming the
camp, they were surprised by the attack, and I laughed at there negligence,
as we charged the group. I saw there faces look up from around the dead beast
they were feeding upon and they cowered at the sight of us, but non the less,
the drew their sword and prepared to defend them selves. I drew my sling and
launched a large stone at the front most monster. The rock hit the troll in
the chest and as his breast plate was crushed, his ribs closed upon his lungs
and he bellowed loudly, then fell to the grown, as his ribs broke and
punctured his skin. Then khaell launched one of his deadly axes, which struck
one of the human barbarians in the neck, and at this he died, without saying
a word. As the great groups mingled, I could hear the clash of swords upon
shields and the loud crack as my mace smacked a man in the nose, crushing his
jaw and wreaking his face. I saw one of my men attack one of the brigands and
watched him cleave the fiend down the his shoulder, the barbarian fell to
his knees and my worrier pulled a dagger, slit his belly, then pulled the
enemies entrails out with his bare hands. I watched one of my newer men, who
I recognized from a battle before, take on a troll twice his size. He fought
bravely, but the ugly monster grabbed his arms and pulled them from his
torso.
I a few moments, our forces had destroyed a large number of the beasts, and
soon, the rest surrendered. I personally questioned them and slit their
throats. We had minimal casualties, only lost 8 men, but we found no useful
supplies or weapons on the corpses of the dead beings. I knew that some
thing was wrong, this battle was too easy, I could not feel the glory as I
did in other battles.
***
Upon our arriving at neverwinter to collect out treasure, we found the castle
and city in ruins. The walls of the castle had been knocked down by a magical
force, and the city had been burn by a great fire. We searched the wreck, an
we found lord Nasher, nailed to a cross with a arrow in his neck. On the
cross was a message, written in a foreign language, but translated by a
brilliant member of our clan known as Jeff, to say " this here is the leader
of the greatest army in all the world". We immediately new that our previous
attack had been a small force left to distract us while the real force had
destroyed Neverwinter. We new that this would not go with out revenge, for we
have never failed to complete out mission. Without me saying it, my small
force new that it would be a long time before we ever came home.
To Be continuedCat
(submitted by: Ekaha)
A river in my ears, rainfall. If I had a hundred pages, I could
not describe her voice, what magics it would chisel into the walls of my
heart. I can only tell you how it made me think of caged birds, and smoke and
sweat, and tiny-boned fingers up on my brow.
Words are just symbols. They represent whole pages of feelings and images
and ideas in every separate mind. But there are no words for the way it felt
to hear her voice, like water in my ear, heavy and breaking with the weight
of her waking.
Water in my ear, heavy and broken with the trespass of morning, telling
me all of the hope and the wonder and opportunity every day is a gift full
of; that warm flood of music like a sunrise in my head, brushing out the
night-time web of already-fading dreams. There is a rainbow on my lash,
cutting my vision into different shades of grey. And I raise my head. She is
looking at me: pins me with her smile. There is smoke in her hand and another
day, a new present, shining in her eyes.
"Arise, little Sword-Brother," she turns her head, her eyes crossing into
shadow, fills me with her breath, closes them: "Morning." (I live. I die.
Rather than dying, I decide, I'll live. This cage seems too easy to flee...)
"Morning," I make a smile on my face and silently determine to align the
mixture of emotion inside to the picture on the surface. Feelings roll, snap
in place. "Good. Coffee?"IGVP
(submitted by: Wizard4567)
As the day starts I slowly pick my way through the battle scared battle zone
know as the wharves clearing out some of the local pests as I make my way to
the battle zone after a few minutes of waiting Kevin shows up to collect the
entry fee's for the tournement. I give up my ten jewels and a scroll to
partake in this tournament of the best fighters of the guilds unknowing what
the day had in store for me.
We waited for minutes though they seemed like hours for the other competitors
to arrive. Concentrating on winning I prepared myself for battle, thinking,
all the time thinking about my lost brother Michd. A few minutes latter the
rest of the compitition arrived. The battles were assigned and the fighting
started. The first few battles were total chaos. Since we were so close to
the gloarious city of NeverWinter many young adventurers intervined in the
tournament and were delt with. In my first battle I was going up against a
more experienced and proud member of the V guild. After we tried to ensnare
each other in clouds he choked but the NPC was not co-operative so I tried to
poison him. He soon broke free of the noxious clouds and we proceded in
combat. After throwing every thing we had at each other I tried a last
attempt to send him to the gate. His saves falter, and he is sent back to
the gate with a dose of poison.
After the first round only four opponets stood alive in the area. My memory
was filled with thoughts of revenge and glory so there might have been more
or less. The next battle was assigned. This time we would have both battles
in the same room. After a moment of confusion in which I sought desperately
to seek my opponet out he appeared. I envelope him in thick clouds and try
to make him clumsy. All that did was make him cough and slow. He throws his
spells this way and that around me. After being enswarmed in three different
clouds I only coughed and began another offensive. This opponets save's were
not as good as I sent him heading for a temple on the second attempt.
Now only me and another proud V stood. We offer each other luck, prepare for
battle, and start. When we enter the battle I try my quick takeout with my
four poison darts. All fail my cause. I run behind a wall to replenish my
globe for it was starting to fail. He followed me in and caught me with a
hold monster. Fortunately for me the NPC would not move where he wanted. He
proceded to cast all his spells at me. My saves held. When his spell wore
off I was left standing with 2 Hp! Since Kevin had to leave soon he decided
instead of waiting for a victor to fight for extra prizes he would just join
in. Unfortunately for all of them I cast my last high level spell. A hold
monster. It grasped the NPC, my V opponet, and Kevin. I moved to the other
side of them and attemted to dispell my hold on the NPC. It failed. I
quickly search for another and fail to find any! I throw some slays at V and
one succedes. Kevin and the held NPC stood in my way of victory. I cast
hold person in a desperate attempt to keep Kevin held and it worked. The NPC
shortly worked its way free from my hold and finished off Kevin. Not wanting
to get close to it I cast a magic missle at it and finish it off since a
kobold could kill me with the hit points I had left. I watch my opponets
leave one by one. Silently I head back toward NeverWinter.Engagement
(submitted by: MOB Honey)
Mob Honey wakes from a long sleep unable to place herself. So much termoil
for one person, so much confussion.
She does not know where she is or how she got to the place that she is at. A
rosebud, in full bloom appears clutched in her hands, and a kind man is
standing above her. He gently whispers, "I will take you home."
Leading her through the realms, Honey hears many friends but is unable to
speak to them. There is only one she wishes to see, only one who her heart
now burns for, only one....
Arriving at the casino Honey quickly searches for him, but he is no where to
be seen. Where has he gone, her heart begins to break. Perhaps he could not
bear her absence, or perhaps he has moved on, he is the Boss, many woman
would lay themmselves down at his feet. Perhaps she has been folish to think
this could be her true love.
Honey was escorted upstairs into her room. The days had melded together, and
her vision of Scrface was fading as the vision of Melissa was growing ever
stronger.
As she slipped into her room she found a box awaiting her. Slowly running
her fingers around the etched carvings on the box she openend it. She gently
removed the scroll and began to read.......Marry
me...........Scrface.........
Opening the small box she found a glittering ring.
Placing the ring on her finger the words Yes rang through her empty room.
Calling Rules to her room she writes on a piece of paper......
Love,
You have made my dreams come true, I will marry you.
Honey
"Rules, find Scrface and bring him this letter as quickly as possible."
Rules looking at Honey had never seen her look more radient. "Right away
Honey, it shall be done."Lizard Bashin'
(submitted by: TuxedoMsk0)
It was just another day for me. I was a low-level cleric. I was lost.
I was in deep trouble. You've heard it all before, but listen up anyway.
I suppose you haven't heard of me. No, most people haven't, but there
are those who remember the lightning fast swath of green that would let
pebbles fly like granite birds from his staff sling +3. I'm Tux mask. It's
a title only, but it stands for what I do. I'm a problem solver. Grease my
palm and I'll wax the target. Or wax the floor with the target. I forget
how it goes.
Today, though, none of this had happened yet. I still had my blue
cloak, mottled with grey, and I was stuck with a badly made mace and chain
mail. We were in the cafeteria of the Realms and I was a small fry. I was a
scruffy little dog but I was barking up the wrong tree. I was mixing
metaphors and it was time to stop.
It was a nice day, as days go. Birds chirping, bees buzzing, lizardmen
chasing me... you know the type. It was the Kentucky Derby and I was in the
lead but the other horses were gaining fast. And they had fangs. And
swords. And a bad attitude straight out of hell.
I stumbled into them camp like a blind man without his cane. They were
Otthawk, Dravinar, and Crich. Three of the toughest hombres you're ever
likely to see, even when their characters' combined levels didn't equal 15,
and eight of them belonged to a cleric with no spells. This didn't bother
us. We were tossed by the winds of chance but we held on like leeches to a
safariman.
Then it was battle, and we formed into our lines. Otthawk was taxed for
spells but he made up for it with a mace swing that would make some dead
baseball guys proud. He took the front, and although I was only level 4 I
stood beside him. Crich and Dravinar had low HP, which guaranteed them high
life insurance premiums if they fought at the front, so in the interests of
finance they stayed to the back. Crich was only level 2, but as a ranger he
had a longbow and plenty of arrows. Dravinar was an elf, albeit minus his
mage spells, but luckily he had fighting skill and another bow.
We rained blows on the lizardmen like iron thunderclouds. Otthawk
smashed in the head of one enterprising attacker, blocking another. I spoke
a few words and a huge flaming fireball flew from my hands, smashing the
snake across the face like a game of broadsword-tag. Of course, I was only a
cleric, but I love to embellish. I smiled at it, and the snake was charmed.
Then the smile almost got ripped from my face along with my lips and maybe an
eyeball or two. Luckily, though, Otthawk had a taste for monster stew, and
he turned its hide into a pegboard. It wasn't time for games, though, so I
turned to face our remaining enemies.
Two lizardmen remained on the battlefield. One was grinning like an
overweight tax collector, but some swift arrows from Dravinar and Crich
stopped that level of inquiry.
One remained. It snarled at us like a demon on crack, with breath to
match. My hit points were running low but I stood fast. Dravinar and Crich
drew their longswords and moved to our side. It was a showdown at the OK
Corral and we were gonna make Clint Eastwood proud. It was an outing to the
deli and his number was up. We were K-Mart shoppers and there was a blue
light special on death. I was Sean Connery and I had a license to kill.
It was time for lunch so I had to finish up the story.
We moved like a thunderclap and overtook the lizardman like a tidal wave
over a one-room shack. Shrieks and screams filled the air but they were only
from those unlucky enough to witness the carnage we wrought. Blood flowed
like a giant river and we were the explosives that broke the dam.
We went on to join up with another, Amaric Kai. We took on monsters so
huge you needed a telescope to fight them. We went into the dank pits of
decay like roto-rooter and cleaned out the filth. We were housekeepers and
it was time for spring cleaning.
But that's another story.The Vilnask Banshee
(submitted by: Lake Mist)
TroutRasta had traveled through Vilnask several timeson his way to
Crossergate, and had never really had any trouble. He had heard of the
Banshee that was said to haunt the path south of the Vilnask, but had never
actually seen her.
On a bright and warm spring morning, as he was making his to
Crossergate, he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, and then. The
wail was so mourneful and sad, and full of grief that TroutRasta immediately
turned and fled. Fear coursing through his veins like a Red Dragon's fire.
A few hundred yards back down the path, he stopped and gathered himself.
The sound had stopped, all sound had stopped, except for the pounding of his
heart in ears. After a few minutes of resting, he again headed down the path
to Crossergate.
Upon arriving in Crossergate, he headed straight for the Inn and ordered
a frothing mug of frenzy. As he finished the first mug and was ordering a
second, he related what had happened to the Inn Keeper. As he finished, the
entire inn bursts into laughter and someone said "Ole Desha is out and about
again. Won't be many travelers from the north this night."
TroutRasta looked around and then headed over to empty table. A dark
figure moved forward and stopped in front of the table and asked in a low
voice "May I sit?" TroutRasta nodded that he could and the figure took a
seat across from him.
The figure sat there for a few moments before TroutRasta realized that
he probably needed a drink. He motioned for two frenzies to brought over and
ordered dinner for them both when they arrived.
After they had eaten, the dark figure looked over the table and said "I
am Da Prophet. It appears that you have met the Lady Desha." TroutRasta
stared across the table as Da Prophet continued "Let me tell you a sad tale
of love and death."
"A long time ago, a beautiful young lady from the courts of Neverwinter,
who parents had betrothed her to a young nobleman named Atani Roc, was
traveling to Red Larch for her marriage. Stopping in Southwall for the
night, they happened across a young adventurer named Tangleweed. As the
night drew on, he spun tales of great adventure and treasure, and of many
monsters he had left slain. The next morning, he joined the party to lend
his sword if needed on the journey."
"By the time they had reached the town of Vilnask, the young Lady Desha
was helplessly and hopelessly in love with Tangleweed. The two eloped and
made their home in a cabin not far from Vilnask. Enjoying the serenity of
the woods and their love."
"When Atani Roc heard of what had happened, he went insane with rage and
jealousy. The Lady Desha was his by arrangement, and no others. He left Red
Larch with death in his heart and mind, and pain in his hand. When he
reached Vilnask and found the cabin, he declared 'Tangleweed, ye shall die
this day and the Lady Desha shall spend the rest of her days in the dungeon
under Red Larch. This I swear.' With those words, swords clashed and blood
was spilled. Atani Roc's long sword entered Tangleweed and ripped upward
from the groin to the chin, killing him instantly. The Lady Desha fell to
her knees in grief and drew her dagger. Letting out a cry that was heard in
Vilnask, she buried the dagger in her own heart, joining her love in death."
"No one knows what happened to Atani Roc, but he never returned to Red
Larch. It is said that the Banshee that haunts south of Vilnask is the
spirit of the Lady Desha. trying to avenge the death of her true love."
With that said, Da Prophet rose and left the inn. TroutRasta sat
staring at his hands and felt such a great sorrow for the Lady
Desha.Remembrance
(submitted by: Khar1mar)
Darkstar pushed onward through the night at a full gallop, barely able to
feel the weight of the halfling he bore towards Triboar. The pony left no
hoof-prints in the road; only small puffs of dust remained to mark his
passing. He thought little of anything but the road ahead and the occasional
tug of his master upon the reins. The mind of his rider, however, was filled
with far more important concerns.
Kharimar pondered the message which he had recently liberated from the no
doubt already-rotting corpse of Gilian Silvertongue, and the intent behind
it. What purpose did the wizard's daughter have in mind for him this time?
He smirked. Perhaps a more complicated mission than the others she'd
envisioned...
~~~~~
The wizard had mentioned some days before that his nightly observations
foretold an "e-klips," whatever that was; and that day, whilst his "little
mistress" tried on several new outfits (why she'd been given that nickname he
knew not, as she was quite a bit taller than he), Kharimar had slipped out of
the shop and into the nearby tavern, where he'd overheard a priest of some
order - one of Bane's, now that he thought about it - whispering to his
comrade, "Tonight we strike! Attack when the moon is as blood."
Once Nosh, the wizard's daughter, had explained the nature of an "e-klips",
it was a simple matter to deduce the target of Bane's fury. The Temple of
Helm, near the Neverwinter Wharves, had been a thorn in the side of the High
Priest of the God of Strife for some time. It was fairly safe to assume that
a sizable force had been gathered in secrecy somewhere near Neverwinter, and
Nosh had a sudden urge to obtain a souvenir.
She wanted the "Gauntlets of Helm," a pair of ceremonial armored gloves worn
by the high priest of Helm during sacrifices and other such things.
Kharimar had grinned and accepted the challenge. It would be a test of his
abilities, but wouldn't be too difficult. Slip into the temple through the
chaos of the battle, locate the gauntlets (in the high priest's chambers, no
doubt), take them into custody, and slip out as quickly as possible.
Simplicity itself. They were just a pair of gloves, and wouldn't be guarded
too closely.
It was there, he discovered, that he went wrong.
~~~~~
The sun gathered in its rays for the last few minutes of twilight before
darkness descended upon the Sword Coast. The temple stood as the God of
Guardians himself might, proud and stern, casting his gaze down upon the
surrounding citizens expressionlessly... or, perhaps, with just the slightest
hint of disdain.
Kharimar had returned its gaze from a rooftop some half a mile distant, his
face a study in contempt. Tonight Helm would be bereft of his Neverwinter
sect, and the world would be just that much darker. He smirked. Darkness
was his best friend.
He delayed a few more minutes, taking in the last hints of daylight, before
descending from the rooftop to the street below. Slipping from shadow to
shadow, he had reached the temple just as the light from the moon began to
change from silvery-white to blood-red. He concealed himself behind three
barrels large enough to hide ogres, and waited for Bane's forces to arrive.
He did not have to wait very long. A column of some forty men marched out
four abreast from a nearby warehouse and turned toward the huge bronze temple
gates, with three of the God of Strife's priests in the fore. The column
advanced to within twenty feet, then halted.
One of the priests called out. "The God of Strife requires your blood this
day, Ardilean, Priest of Guardians, and he shall not be denied! Would you
surrender yourself and spare your temple, or fall before the wrath of Lord
Bane?"
A voice, from within the temple. "Never! Helm himself watches over us this
eve, followers of Bane! Prepare to meet your Master!"
One of the priests removed a horn from a sack at his belt, put it to his
lips, and blew the horn in the direction of the gate. A shock wave of
immense power lashed out from the horn and struck the gate of Helm's temple,
rending it from the wall. The priests rushed forward, and the column
followed.
Kharimar delayed one minute, allowing the battle to carry further inside,
then entered the temple through the breach which the Banites had created.
Reasoning that his target, the high priest's chambers, was undoubtedly the
destination of the God of Strife's forces, he resolved to see what could be
found in this now-undefended area of the temple.
The halfling slipped into the main worship hall. Echoes of battle, carried
through the many corridors, reverberated within the hall, as did the
supplications of one man dressed in a priest's vestments who knelt before the
altar of Helm, beseeching him to make his presence known in this time of dire
need.
Not knowing why, Kharimar drew his dagger and advanced stealthily toward the
altar. A single droplet of morag juice dripped from the tip of his blade and
splattered against the stone floor, silently burning a small depression in
it. The man at the altar seemed oblivious to his presence....
Suddenly, the priest looked up. The assassin had made no sound, he was
certain, but the priest rose and turned towards him, hatred burning in his
eyes. It was then that Kharimar noticed that the cleric before him wore the
Gauntlets of Helm.
"YOU!" boomed the priest, in a voice that was not his own.
Without thinking, Kharimar threw his dagger. It struck the priest squarely
in the chest, and the opaque mist and distinct sizzle of dissolving flesh and
bone rose from the wound, but the cleric seemed not to notice as he advanced
upon the halfling.
At that moment, Kharimar cursed an oath so vile that, in far-off Hades,
Myrkul himself involuntarily winced.
The assassin drew another dagger from his boot and sunk it into the scabbard
of the first, but had no time to withdraw it before the cleric was upon him.
Helm's priest reached down, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and hurled
him with inhuman strength across the hall. He barely cleared the last row of
benches, crashed into the ground, and rolled into the wall, suffering two
broken ribs in the process. Stunned from the impact, he was nearly helpless
as the priest strode toward him again.
The cleric spoke not a word as he took hold of Kharimar's neck and lifted him
clear of the ground, choking him. The halfling swung his legs back to gain
momentum, then forward, his feet connecting with the hilt of the dagger he
had thrown and plunging it deeper into the man's chest. The priest roared in
pain, dropping Kharimar in a heap and clutching at his wound.
Kharimar regained his feet, biting back a scream from the pain in his chest,
and drew his other dagger, now poisoned as the first from the morag juice
within the scabbard. The cleric had stopped to pull the dagger from his
chest, and blood spurted from the wound, but he advanced upon the halfling
once again.
The assassin threw his second dagger, striking the priest in the left eye and
penetrating to the brain. The man let out a terrible, agonized wail as the
morag juice dissolved much of his grey matter; then fell and lay still.
Of such was the end of Ardilean Ravenstaff, High Priest of Helm.
~~~~~~
Drawing ragged breaths and coughing up blood, Kharimar had retrieved his
daggers and his prize, the Gauntlets of Helm, from the dead cleric. How he
returned to Floodblest he did not know, although he remembered half-climbing,
half-falling down the well, and stumbling into Nosh's chamber bearing the
Gauntlets before him.
As Darkstar's hooves pummeled the road to Triboar, his halfling rider
smirked. What challenges lay in his path this time? And what treasures
awaited him? Only the passing of time would tell for certain.A Lesson Taught
(submitted by: Madd Cynic)
When a large group of men go looking for fights, there can be trouble.
However, when a large group of undead go soul collecting for Myrkul... well
that only leads to one thing, total oblivion. No one does it better than the
undead! Sneaking around from dusk to dawn, grasping what they believe
belongs to them. So you can only guess at what happens when you unite such a
group under one banner and give them a few squires to abuse as they see fit.
Any one living near the land of Neverwinter can tell you of many strange
occurrences, and of many strange creatures. We've seen it all, and abused it
all. Brotherhoods of good hearted men and women striving to bring peace to
the land. Groupings of thieves and assassins that exist only to further
their own wealth and power. Even men that get just a little to drunk in the
tavern and claim to be gods. (KAAOS.. hint, hint) This by all means is only
the beginning of a long list of oddities to be found in the Realms and every
time you think it couldn't get any better or worse, it does.
One thing is for sure though. When a grouping of undead decided it was time
to bring their deity back to the land that we live in, it forced many sets of
eyes open. Good and evil alike fear death... so they tend to fear Myrkul as
well. The Undead Lords enhanced this fear to it's highest point yet.
Wraiths, vampires, banshees, ghouls, zombies.... all these were to be found
hunting the evening with chants to Myrkul and to UDL, and the Realms have
never been the same since. Thus, we all have been granted access to the
realm of the dead.
Night had yet to set fully in when the large body of a drow climbed a large
stone that was set solidly into the ground. Sitting upon it, he waited for
the sun to sink fully below the horizon. Soon his new family would awake and
come to this very spot to meet, so there was little time to get organized.
He was now a squire to a wraith that taught him his full duties to Myrkul and
on this eve, he was to go soul reaping.
Pulling a small strand of leather from his tunic's pocket the young squire
pulled back his long mane of silver and gold hair. Finishing off the knot
used to hold back his hair, the large dark elf lept to the ground where he
would finish his preparations. Ripping the cover from a small cart the
squire could feel his excitement grow. These were his most cherished
possessions, ones that he would take with him when the time came for him to
become undead as were his friends. For now however, his life depended on
these items. Putting on the red tinted armor, and fumbling with the various
laces and clasps the squire knew that his companions would be arriving soon.
Already he heard their voices in his head, singing praises to Myrkul and
assuring the lad of his safety in their hands. Next, a flail was pulled from
the cart and tucked into a large war girdle found around his waist. Grinning
mischievously, the squire located an ivory case and tied this case firmly to
the outside of his leg. This case held the many scrolls that he would use
before the night was over. Now he was ready, and the time had come.
His vision allowed him to see better than most, but it was not what he saw
that made him curious. For he heard a very distinct sound riding in the
wind... the sound of laughter. Perhaps he could gain an early start on his
collecting of souls? Climbing back up the rock and laying flat on his belly
he could almost feel the couple advancing closer. This is where patience
truly is a virtue. Soon he was able to see them, and make out the polished
symbol of the Out-Riders upon their breast-plates. Rising to his feet and
standing proudly on top of the rock, the lad waited for his foes to come just
a little bit closer before he sprang into deadly action. "What have we
here?" One of the travelers approached the cart and motioned for the other
to follow. The two Out-Riders scavenged through the cart with greed in their
eyes. It was a shame that bloodlust appeared in the eyes of the man watching
them.
Smiles remained on both of the men's faces while they examined the cart.
Well that's partly true. They smiled up to a point.. the point during which
a large sphere of flame and heat flew from a close by rock, and exploded into
the cart. The cart blew to pieces as the Out-Riders flew back from the
blast, covering their faces from the millions of sharp splinters that flew in
all directions. Moving quickly before the men had a chance to recover, the
mage let loose his second spell. In moments a cloud of stench surrounded one
Out-Rider causing him to have a fit of coughing. The battle had already
turned in the favor of the UDL squire. That was until the other Out-Rider
charged up the stone towards him. This was not hard to take care of however,
only an out-rider would try such a trick. Releasing a fumble spell, the
Out-Rider soon found himself falling back towards the ground. A quick drop
to the ground, and the clumsy Out-Rider was in the dark elf's grasp. A soft
glow spread from his hands as the squire's touch focused on the foe's face.
That was the last breath the Out-Rider was ever to take. One more soul had
just made it's way to greet Myrkul. The squire was in complete control of
this battle, this he knew as a fact. Of course he was wrong, and realized
this as he felt a blade arc across his back.
Bellowing in rage, a quick elbow brought knocked the Out-Rider back, enabling
the squire to drawl his flail. Spinning around quickly the dark elf let his
flail lash across the defender's chest, crushing the Out-Rider emblem and
knocking the lad onto his knees. With a cry to Myrkul, the squire's hands
dashed out and grasped the Out-Rider's head. The battle was over after a
quick twist of the skull. It was time to collect the spoils.
Drawing a great jeweled scepter from his back and placing it into the air,
the squire called forth his lord. A deep crimson light spewed forth as the
souls of the out-riders were collected. Soon the light dulled and the
attacker was left with an odd feeling. A fast moving blur flew past him and
he dropped to the ground like a bag of rocks.
Hours later the squire awoke to the sight of a few undead friends. Along
with that came a more ghastly sight. Six bodies lay broken on the ground,
not two. One of the new additions seemed to of died of fright. (Being as
pale as he was) The others laid there charred and broken, there was no doubt
as to how the older soldiers died. Spells had been cast, and now they lay
dead. After several minutes a wraith approached the drow. "Squire Cynic,
Grab your gear and let us be gone. Due to you, we have lost many valuable
hunting hours." With a lowered head, the squire apologized for his failure
and agreed to follow the UDL banner into an upcoming fight which had already
been located by his family.
As time fades, death comes closer. So beware all of you good citizens of
Neverwinter...... Myrkul's on his way!!!Prince of Thieves
(submitted by: Elsweyr)
Elsweyr Dayl guided his horse off the Long Road and on to the narrow, winding
forest path that led west towards Neverwinter City with a feeling of
apprehension and remorse. The young Gray Elf, having spent the last two
years in self imposed isolation after the death of his beloved Alyssa at the
hand of Zhent mercenaries, wondered if he had anything to offer the noble
Guildmasters of Neverwinter. Nevertheless, his period of mourning over,
Elsweyr had set out of from Waterdeep and rode north across the Savage North
to arrive before the imposing gates of Neverwinter at nightfall of the
twentieth day.
"Halt!" a voice shouted from the ancient and scarred battlements. Elsweyr
reigned Mystdancer to a stop and peered through the darkness above. A lone,
torch bearing sentry outfitted in cheap, scale mail yelled down at him,
demanding his purpose. "The gates are closed till sunrise," he barked,
adding that he should return to Floodblest and find an inn for the night.
"Orc hordes are gathering in Nightsedge as we speak and M'lord Nasher has
imposed a curfew in the city from sundown to sunrise until the danger has
passed.
"Tell your esteemed Lordship that Elsweyr Dayl, Prince of Greycloak Wood, now
a mere messenger bearing a missive in the service of Peirgeiron, Lord of
Waterdeep."
Hearing the commotion, another sentry stepped to edge of the catwalk and
leaned over to glare down at Elsweyr. "Elsweyr ye say? What kind of a name
is that? Sounds like its neither here nor there?" the older, seasoned guard
bellowed, throwing his head back in a sarcastic belly laugh. "And a prince
ye say? A prince of thieves or a spy perhaps, what proof do ye have of your
petition?"
"Only this," Elsweyr replied drawing a sturdy two-handed sword from its plain
looking brown leather scabbard that hung at his side. Holding the sword
upright, the steel blade began to glow, faintly at first from a dull
vermilion until it became a bright red-orange beacon in the darkness.
"The Blood Sword!" the guards gasped in unison. "Open the gates you fool,"
the older sentry snapped at his companion, "and alert his lordship that the
messender from Lord Peirgeiron Wood has arrived." Moments later, the massive
gates swung inward and Elsweyr gently heeled the chestnut stallion through
the gates.
The streets of Neverwinter, normally bustling with activity were empty and
quiet except for the shouting of guards, their armor clanging and echoing off
the city walls as they rushed up the stone steps to take up defensive
position. Moving quickly across the deserted city square, Elsweyr dismounted
in front of Strider's Tavern, tying Mystdancer's harness to a rail and walked
inside. Like the narrow, cobblestone streets leading to the inn, the hostel
was equally empty except for a drunken party of dwarven miners at a corner
table, two young and pretty serving wenches, and the innkeeper himself.
One of the waitresses giggled to the other, then approached -- her bare
shouldered and low cut floor length dress doing its best to contain her
large, bouncing bosom -- as Elsweyr took a seat at a table opposite the
dwarves near the inn's great stone hearth. "Evenin' M'lord," the woman
smiled, bending forward a bit more than was necessary while bowing. "My name
is Kishiria, what's yer pleasure?" she added, batting her large brown eyes at
the elf.
"A flagon of evermeade will do for just now," Elsweyr grinned, "and some
sweetbreads perhaps," he added as an afterthought, admiring the woman's
ample, exposed breasts.
"Aye," the Kishiria smiled, running her fingers slowly across the side of
Elsweyr's face as she turned to leave. "Anything at all for one as handsome
and strong as you M'Lord." Elsweyr smiled, but said nothing. As lovely as
the woman was, he was not completely over the death of his young wife and had
not displayed an interest in another woman since her brutal murder.
"Alyssa," he whispered, as tears began to form in the corners of his charcoal
gray eyes. Elsweyr abruptly shook his head to clear the biting memories that
began to surface as the woman returned.
"Here we go love," she said, dropping the food and drink laden tray on the
table. "A warm mug o' meade to keep your lordship's innards toasty on a
chilly night, some fresh sweetbread and ... a bottle of Silverymoon brandy
for later, if'n you know what I mean," she winked.
"Kish..." Elsweyr began politely, but firmly as well.
"Kishiria," the woman replied, finishing his word and lifting her dress to
reveal her supple, shapely legs as she perched herself on the table near
Elsweyr.
"Kishiria," Elsweyr repeated and smiled. "You are welcomed to the brandy,
but I fear there will not be a later on. Not tonight anyway."
"Oh?" Kishiria frowned. "Are ye sure love?"
"Aye, very sure. Another time mayhaps?" Elsweyr smiled as he handed the dusty
bottle of brandy to the woman. "Keep this however, with my compliments."
Rising off the table, Kishiria suddenly lost her footing and, with a loud
crash, splattered the contents of the bottle and her tray on the company of
dwarven miners gathered at the next table. Uttering loud gutteral curses,
they ignored Elsweyr as he stood and began an apology for the woman.
Instead, they drew their weapons and a melee ensued.
Elsweyr's glowing, crimson blade was unsheathed in the blink of an eye and he
quickly pushed Kishiria behind him and out of harm's way as the dwarves
attacked in a drunken stupor. The nearest dwarf quickly fell as Elsweyr's
large fist landed squarely in the dwarf's exposed face below his helm,
knocking the man unconscious. The next did not escape so easily. Elsweyr's
blade entered the dwarf just below his rib cage, rupturing his heart.
Gasping wide eyed, the small man swore before falling backwards, dead before
he hit the floor. Seeing they were outclassed, the remaining dwarves turned
and fled.
Suddenly, the door of the inn crashed open and a patrol of Nasher guards
rushed into the room, their weapons at the ready. "Hold fast!" the captain
of the guard shouted stepping forward from the others and pointing his long
sword toward Elsweyr.
Elsweyr turned to face the captain and sheathed his blade in its scabbard,
its radiance already beginning to fade. Stretching his arms wide at his
sides, he opened his palms to reveal a small leather purse that jingled when
he shook it. "Take him," the captain said, but as the guards approached,
Elsweyr tossed the coin purse to Kishiria before pivoting swiftly to crash
through a closed window behind him and out into the street.
"Another time indeed," Kishiria smiled, dropping the purse filled with gold
and platinum coins into her apron as the guards clambered into the street to
pursued Elsweyr into the cold, dark night.Thief: Spedlestor
(submitted by: Robitius)
When I woke this morning, I found a small packet of papers lying on my
desk. Curiously, I picked it up. The front sheet was blank except for the
enscription, written in bold, dark print: "Thief: Spedlestor." Puzzled, I
sat down slowly and flipped to the second page. Quickly I recognized it as a
tale, written in an old, archaic style, about Spedlestor. I noticed that
there was no author attributed to the piece. Grinning, I kicked my feet onto
my desk and began to read:
"With great care I began my task of shadowing the thief known as
Spedlestor. Great praise had been reaped upon the miscreant's abilities, and
for thus stated reason, I took much precaution in remaining undetected. In
such a cautious mannor I ventured forth into the realm of Neverwinter,
observing thus renowned thief. The day unfurled itself as a tapestry, and
the one known as Spedlestor became known to yon observing knight. Written
herein lies thus stated knight's expierience with--and modest opinion
of--Spedlestor: miscreant, rogue, and foul villain.
"With much pomp and attraction--though yon simple observer saw no
audience--the errant thief Spedlestor set foot from the viperish den known as
'Lurker Hall.' Thus stated miscreant wore, in noble fashion, the apparrel of
a noble knight. Thus stated wrapp'd about his personage a great plate armor
an' carried on his arms a large shield an' a mighty sword. Spedlestor the
Thief shin'd nobly in the early sun, and yon observing wondered if this
indeed were the roguish villain renowned as Spedlestor.
"As a great heroe Spedlestor stood before yon evil den. Thus stated
stared valiently about, and in awe yon observing verily wished to cry out
'Brother! Thou art of mine own character, thou noble creature!' Yon
observing knight verily showed great restraint and soon thus observing keenly
became aware of yon thief's true snakelike nature. For yon thief stood not
tall, nor gallant, nor bravely as yon observing had presupposed. Yon thief
stood small, cowardly, lost in the greatness of his armor. Thus stated
miscreant were not a human knight of valor! Thus stated were elf, and
inasmuch, were too much lost in the great armor overbearing his personage.
Thus stated resembled not a great knight! Thus stated resembled certain
cookery such as yon observing might find within his virtuous wive's kitchen!
With rising horror, yon observing knight bore witness to a ghastly sight.
Yon miscreant, with much effort, rose his mighty armored leg, and with much
effort carried it forth and gratefully let it fall to the earth. Yon
miscreant preceded to lift his second mighty leg, and with much effort carry
it forth, and with much gratefullness, let it fall to the earth. In such a
vigorous mannor yon villian sallied into the realms.
"As the intelligence of Spedlestor the Miscreant has much been commented
on, yon simple knight knew not what to think. Truly such a devious mind
could not torture his own personage in such a mannor! Certainly he should
remove the steel garmet and don a more compatable apparrel! Forsooth! Yon
simple knight remained perplexed, for though yon thief labored greatly under
the weight, he refused to yield to a more relaxing attire. Verily, the day
entire yon thief lumbered about in thus stated mannor, so that he wasted
himself needlessly.
"But then, yon thief approached his known dominion: the vaults. And Alas,
yon observing knight believed to know the reason for thus stated thief's
refusal to shed his burden! In such a disguise, reasoned yon simple knight,
certainly yon simple thief finds it easier to perform his ugly occupation.
Alas, yon knight (growing simpler by the minute) remained in error! For
whenst Spedlestor the Villain approach'd those clamourous vaults, good
citizens began calling to him by name, and yon simple knight knew yet again
not what to think. Were the disguise of Spedlestor not working?--for the
citizens with easy recognitions hailed thus stated thief. This I thought
must verily be the truth, yet yon thief in his great armor grew not angered,
nor surprised, nor perplex'd. Yon thief with cheerful waves greeted much of
the citizenry present at those vaults. Verily these simple folk knew of
yon thief's evil personage, an' with strange familiarity call'd out to thus
stated thief in greetings. Yon simple knight reasoned at last that yon thief
verily hold'd too much affection and renown for such a simple diguise to
affect his personage. Alas, what were the reason, then, that yon thief
subject his personage to such troublesome weight? Yon observing knight knew
not.
"Lost in such thoughts, thus stated knight verily lost sight of Spedlestor
the Thief. For a moment, yon knight knew despair, but with great fortune,
cries began to drift to yon knight's hearing: "Spedlestor!" an' "Thief!" were
the cries. With much haste, yon knight again caught sight of yon lumbering
miscreant in his mighty armor. Yon knight notic'd that yon thief were
trading. With curiosity and not some small anger, yon good knight cleverly
mov'd closer to yon thief and yon simple citizen. Much surprise came to thus
stated knight as yon conversation were spoken:
Spedlestor: "Greets to ya, friend."
Citizen: "Hey, Sped, ya thievin' putz. Steal anything good, lately?"
Spedlestor: "Yup, an' fer jus' a magical longsword, I have a beautiful ring
fer ya..."
Citizen: "Hmmm...a ring, eh? I could use one of those...it wasn't stolen was
it?"
Spedlestor: "Nay, I bought it in the jewerly shop. What'dya say?"
Citizen: "It's a deal!"
"Shock'd, yon simple knight watch'd in great astonishment as yon foolish
citizen with much naivity hand'd to thus renowned thief his sword. Verily I
wished to cry out, 'Stop! Yon elf is stealing from thy simple personage!'
Alas, yon knight--with great effort of will--restrained his self. An' in
horror yon observing knight watch'd whilest Spedlestor the thief readily
grasp'd thus stated sword. Yon thief let forth a villanous grin and issue'd
a prepar'd speech to which yon foolish citizen cried in despair. Oh, how yon
observing knight's great bleeding heart went forth to yon impoverish'd
citizen! Forsooth! Yon knight stood without power whilst Spedlestor the
Evil beganst lumbering away, leaving yon foolish citizen to his grief!
"In such depicted mannor, Spedlestor the Thief verily dup'd citizens of
those clamourous vaults. Yon simple knight again and again expierienc'd
astonishment whilst yon simple thief cunningly impoverish'd much foolish
citizens. Alas! Were the citizenry of Neverwinter so easily gulled? Were
the citizenry so easily part'd of their hard earn'd wealth? With feelings of
dejection an' disillusionment, yon simple knight wonder'd at thus stated
stupidity. Yon simple knight--in his greatest of simplicities--could nae
find an answer...
"Alas! One enigma resolv'd itself to thus observing knight! Towardst the
fall of night, whenst the vaults had grown most clamourous and boistorous,
yon knight with great insight saw the reason Spedlestor the Rogue chos'd to
wear such a burden as his greatest of armor. Upon stealing from a great
warrior man, thus stated thief gavest a great grin an' with much ado,
exclaim'd: "You've been had by the Spirit Lurkers--Professional Thieves!"
Alas, yon warrior grew red fac'd an' with much anger an' much strength,
tossed aside yon lumbering elf. Thus stated thief with the mightiest of
crashes fell against the earth. The great burden of such mighty armor
disallow'd Spedlestor the Thief to arise an' flee. Liken a great turtle
fall'n onst it's backside, so resembled yon troubled thief! Yon warrior, his
anger unabated, withdrew a mighty sword an' with great swings landed mighty
blows upon thus entroubled thief! Alas! The reason now became apparent to
yon observing knight of yon thief's insistence upon wearing such mighty
armor! Mighty were the blows deliver'd against Spedlestor! Mighty were the
blows, yet little effect they carried! An' so, whilst yon warrior, red in
his face an' growing angrier by the moment, careen'd blows onto yon simple
thief Spedlestor, yon observing knight felt reliev'd. Were the mighty armor
of Spedlestor any less mighty, verily he would be gravely wounded.
But Alas, yon thief in his great armor took such blows unharmedly. Yon
observing knight could see no end of yon warrior's anger, an' so yon knight,
with much to ponder upon, withdrew himself from thus stated task of shadowing
Spedlestor the Thief..."
Darkstar
The Coming Storm - Part IV
(submitted by: FrankSense)
An hour was not long but it was plenty enough time for me to prepare for
the journey. Just how long this "journey" was going to be was as yet
unknown. I left my rundown office front, a lease space adjoining Morngrynn's
Wheels and Wagons, after setting the last hex by the front entrance. I never
worried about anyone getting in the back way since that was through the wagon
work's scrap pile, the door being buried beneath ten years (at least) of
saved parts, scraps, and unclaimed work. I soon was headed northward along
Bent Bow Lane past a foggy view of the Winged Wyvern Bridge with its
intricately carved likeness of its namesake, a testament to the skilled
artisans of the city. First time visitors to Neverwinter readily recognize
the Wyvern and the spread wings that serve as a perch to seagulls and other
birds in the warmer months, and as a place to dive into the river for bolder
youths.
I uneventfully arrived at the gate first, leaving me with time for
thought. Just what I don't need! The more I think about something the worse
I feel about it. For instance, I had thought my ways around Neverwinter had
been confined pretty much to myself but Lord Nasher's comments and his
finding me so easily, even in fog, bothered me. I had counted on my
seemingly odd habits being accepted as just "following my weird" since
Neverwinter had more than its fair share of weird inhabitants. I now realize
how naively foolish I have been. Things would change upon my return!
Upon my return? There isn't much for me to return to. The office/home
on Moonwood Lane wasn't in good condition, barely all I could afford. The
office was identified by an old wagon panel with "Graymantle, inquire within"
printed on it. My investigative services weren't needed as much as I'd like
and besides that I was hardly ever there to know if anyone did drop by
looking for help. Several times I've been tracked down at Strider's Inn, my
"other office." That was a place to pass the time and slowly drain away what
actual wages I do get.
I could hear some people coming. Right on time, very punctual. I would
soon know whom it was that I was to escort, and to where.
A couple of grim faced chain mailed guardsmen approached the gate area.
With them was one other, in remarkably clean cloths! It was the young lad,
Pip!
Before either he or I could say anything the head guardsman spoke,
"Graymantle?"
I nodded an affirmative response, not really having anything to say at
that moment. My mind was racing with all kinds of questions.
The guard continued, "The Lord Nasher has directed me to escort you and
the lad with me for one day's march from the city, afterwhich you will be
responsible to assure that the lad reaches his destination promptly and
safely. Are you prepared, sir?" He inquired looking into my eyes for a
response.
Again I just nodded. Pip by now was looking somewhat amused at the
scene unfolding, a small smirk showing on his face, or a held back laugh.
"Well met again, sir," said Pip. "So you are Graymantle the Dark? We
really did not properly introduce ourselves before. I am called Pip." With
that he made a most dignified but somewhat rural looking flourish of
gentlemanly salute.
"I am honored to once again be of assistance, for that is what you seem
to need at the moment," I answered, "only more formally this time." I
alluded to our encounter with the guards earlier without offering the present
two any clue.
Pip's eyes twinkled at that response but revealed nothing to the guards.
"If you are prepared for the trip, then by all means let us be underway. The
foggy evening will shield our departure and we don't know whom may be paying
attention to our whereabouts." With that, he motioned the guardsmen out
towards the gate through which the small entourage proceeded.
Oh, yes. There were lots of questions in my mind now! "May I at least
know where we are going? Or do you know the way well enough to keep that
secret too?" I inquired quietly of my young charge.
"I thought we would head eastward for just a short while, then south,
more towards the ultimate destination."
"And where might that be?" I asked testily. "After all, I should know
this in case we get separated."
"Home," replied Pip. "Simply home." And then as an afterthought he
added, "My father wrote me that you would know once we neared it. It will
take several days to get there, so it isn't known locally."
That response stymied my questions for a while. Obviously Pip didn't
want even the guards to have an inkling of where we were headed. Why the
mystery? Why the stealth? What kind of mess was Pip into? Or was I into?
<To Be Continued . . .>(submitted by: Esunaqidao)
Hi! I just hosted what I believe to be the first IGPVP on Saturday the
sixth (I believe) of April. 4 guilds showed, which was a better turn out
than I expected due to Easter. The guilds that showed were these:
Demon Knights:
Kraidion
Bane Night
COR:
Wizard4567
Camarilla:
V Luthar
V Random
White Sword:
Lunarsword
They put fortha a excelent PvP, and good sportsmanship. Wizard took
first place and won a ability stone for defeating me, as well as a +3 item
(or two), V Luthar took second winning +2 items, and Kraidion took third for
+1 items. The next event schedualed is the Olympics somtime late next month.
Thank You,
Kevin Conner(submitted by: Regis Meek)
Dracs is not an area. It is a single room about 2-4 areas south of NW, and is
very tough. Make sure to have travelling companions B4 you try to get there!
Also, PvP areas are tough! Unless you have enough money to heal ALOT of
wounds, don't go there.. That's all!!
~RM~<><><><><>
<><><><><>
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.
<><><><><>
<><><><><>