1996-05-19
Recovered original text · preserved verbatim
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NEVERWINTER NEWS
Issue # 134
Week Ending 5-19-96
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FRONT PAGE
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Congratulations to Morngrym for winning last week's News of the Realm contest
for her two-part installment entitled "Changing Dawn".
Morngrym 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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Fumble Booth Winners - 5/12/96
Winners (all win 2 pearls)
OGS MrBill
Aurela
L0rd Jack
Dirk Dirty
Poe IV
-- NWA Oberon
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Location Hunt Winner - 5/14
I sent out the banner that I wanted the first person to ESP me from the
location of the following clue...
"A sigh swinging in the breeze reads: Longstocking Armory" and Cesharp was
the first to reach the location.
-Triel
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Tour - 5/14 Midnight
Well...I decided that this had to be my lucky day to find that mage in the
FloodBlest well so I called together another band of travelers to help me on
my way. The mayor of the town has been relying on our help to rid the well
of the varmints that inhabit the town well, making it safe for the town folk,
again.
Joining me on this adventure this fine evening were Wht Lord, WizGod, HQ 441,
CoryGJ, OMM Pirate and Ldr Raz0r. We set out from NeverWinter City and
headed ever eastward through the Wharves, where nothing stood in our way. We
made it to the gate of FloodBlest and made our way to the town's fine Inn to
refresh ourselves. We slowly entered the well but after a few steps, we were
descended on by the mage's minions. Dispatching them quite easily, we made
our way through the maze of paths only to meet with band after band of the
his beasts. Thinking that he must be close to so protect the way, we entered
what we thought had to be the last path because we did hear footsteps. Alas,
we searched only to find ourselves outside the well on the north side of
town.
Hanging my head in shame at having to report back to Lord Nasher of yet
another failure, we made our way back to the city so I could make my report.
Despite not having found the mage yet again, the travelers were a great help
in the quest. I thank you for your help, my fine band of warriors. {{{}}}
-Triel
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May GOH booth #1 Winners!!
"May GoH booth #1 went underway, and it was a "hi/lo" booth, as participants
were asked to take either the highest or lowest damage from two cause serious
wounds spells.
After much bruising, and having to go into a tie-breaker, Ldy Nalika was the
most beaten up for the day and gains 3 pearls for her efforts. Thorn Hawk
managed to avoid most of the damage cast upon him, taking only 7 damage from
the 2 casts, and wins 6 pearls.
Congratulations to the winners! :)"
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Poison Booth Winners - 5/16/96
Greetings!!!:>
Tonight 15 people got a chance to win "2" Pearls and to check out their
saves!!!:D
1) Gimilee - Poisoned on the first cast
2) Kaeyne X - Wins 2 pearls
3) Akonamatta - Wins 2 pearls
4) Mech Vogue - Wins 2 pearls
5) Mech Aztek - Poisoned on first cast
6) Bauvlin - Wins 2 pearls
7) JP Litning - Poisoned on second cast
8) Morgynlfey - Wins 2 pearls
9) Nixaren - Wins 2 pearls
10) BD Piper - Wins 2 pearls
11) Wings1 - Poisoned on thrid cast
12) UDL Litmia - Wins 2 pearls
13) Mad Drunk - Wins 2 pearls
14) Dunvagenn - Poisoned on first cast
15) Wranglir - Poisoned on first cast
CONGRATS to the winners and THANKS to ALL that joined me tonight:>
-NW Lenox
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NEVERWINTER CALENDAR
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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!
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New Player Tours:
Join the following staff members for a tour of the Realm:
May 21st *Tuesday 1:00 AM EST - with NW Mystek.
May 22nd Wednesday 11:00 PM EST - with NW Zephyr.
* Technically this is Wednesday midnight, but making it late Tuesday night
makes it easier for folks to understand and plan to attend. ;>
Those interested in any of these tours should keep an eye out for the banner
telling where to meet! ;D
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Primrose
(submitted by: Lake Mist)
On impulse, to impress you, and remembering...
How much in the past and on the path you liked them...
It was I who brought those thousand jars of honey...
To the bunkhouse that day...after so many months...
Me, a humble but honest ranger...chronicler...
And you...o golden haired one...the pig-tailed lass so quiet...
And how was I to know that you were off wandering...
For I might have brought roses...long stemmed and prickly...
And then you'd of had big sharp-nosed sturges...
Lappin' at you instead of them contented owlbears...Dirj Del Uunort - Stirge
'en!
(submitted by: SOMNeranek)
The sun was just reaching the high point in the afternoon sky as Dirj Del
Uunort stood up from the table. He reached down and sopped up the last bit
of gravy from his plate with a stray scrap of bread. No time to dawdle
today, he thought. My package has finally arrived.
Reaching into the pouch at his waist, he withdrew two gold crowns and dropped
them onto the table. He reached a well muscled arm across the table and
caught up his quarterstaff. Dirj smiled at the memory of hewing the staff
from a heavy oak branch he had found near Floodblest. Having spent his
formative years on the Del Uunort family farm west of Floodblest, Dirj had
developed an appreciation for nature as well as a tightly muscled frame from
twenty-five summers of farm labor.
Stepping out into the street after bidding the innkeeper goodday, Dirj began
to whistle a cheerful tune. A elf woman passed by muttering something about
'humans slaughtering music'. Ignoring her, Dirj started out with the sun at
his back.
He hadn't travelled very far before he was aware of the amused smirks of the
denizens of NeverWinter proper. Dirj sighed.
He knew that he didn't exactly fit the mold of the average wearer of the
robes of a mage. Dirj stood just over six feet tall and had an unruly mane
of bright blonde hair capping his tanned face. His broad shoulders made his
tunic appear ill-tailored.
Soon, he thought. Soon, I won't have to bear being the butt of their jokes
but instead they will look upon me with the respect of an arch-mage. He
quickened his step towards the warehouse district. The sooner I pick up this
package, the closer I will be towards that respect, he thought.
Rounding a corner, he noticed a crowd had formed to listen to one of Lord
Nasher's guards. The guards rich purple cloak made him stand out in the
crowd of merchants. As did his bald pate.
"Beware! We recommend against travelling alone through the warehouse
district until we can muster a patrol. Several travellers have reported
encounters with a band of thieves!" warned the guard.
Dirj shouldered his way around the fringe of the crowd and continued
nonplussed. Let the thieves try, he thought. Not that I have much for them
anyway, he added ruefully as an afterthought.
A short distance later, he had left all companionship behind him as most of
the crowd had heeded the warning. Dirj did see that most of the shop owners
had remained in their shops and was confident that the particular merchant
that he was seeking would also have waited for his appointment.
His sandles crunched on the loose stone in the street as he turned down a
side alley. Almost there, he thought. As he neared the end of the alley, he
saw something stir just ahead in the shadows. Dirj started at the movement
and slowed his pace. Try as he might, he couldn't make out the details of
what was ahead. A large refuse bin stood partly in the shadows offering
effective cover for a man to hide behind.
An odd humming filled the air. Dirj tipped his head to listen. The humming
increased and Dirj began to consider taking a different short-cut. His
decision was taken from him as a melon sized object took to the air from
behind the refuse bin. The rapid beating of the creatures wings accounted
for the humming sound he was hearing.
"A stirge!" he muttered. "I was startled by a stupid stirge?! Someone
remind me not to scream."
Dirj pointed his left hand toward the hovering bird-shaped creature.
Mouthing an ancient syllable, a small blue tear-shaped bolt sprang from his
outstretched fingers and slammed into the stirge, slamming it back against
the wall. Red feathers fluttered to the ground at Dirj's feet.
"That will teach you." he taunted at the smoking remains of the stirge.
Starting forward, Dirj was taken aback when the humming appeared again.
There was a difference, however. The humming grew to a roar in his ears as
over a dozen stirges took to flight. He realized then that he had
inadvertantly roused an entire swarm of the creatures.
Fighting his panic, Dirj Del Uunort braced his corded legs and threw his left
arm out in the direction of the swarm. Green mist seemed to spray out from
his hand to cover the stirges. As he mouthed the words to complete his
spell, half of the stirges flopped to the ground, deep in a mystical slumber.
Before he could frame the outline of another spell, the remaining half-dozen
were upon him.
Dirj flailed his arms and his quarterstaff batted a few of the beasts away.
One of the stirges came down behind him and sank it's large piercing beak
into his back. Pain stabbed through him and he cried out. Dirj tried to
reach behind him pull the creature off from him but the stirge had chosen
it's position well. Planted squarely between his shoulder blades, the stirge
thrashed about, tearing at Dirj's flesh.
Acting in blind instinct, Dirj threw himself backwards against the alley
wall. He roared in pain, as the stirge was driven deeper into his back.
Fury gripped him and he threw himself again and again against the wall. The
other stirges swarmed about him, darting in and out drawing blood from minor
knicks of their sharp beaks. Through the pain searing across his back, he
felt the stirge's hold weaken and it finally fell dead from him to the
ground.
Gasping for breath, he concentrated and uttered a quick spell causing his
free hand to burst into flames. As one of the stirges swooped, he slammed
his burning hand into it's path sending it tumbling away in a ball of flame.
The spell completed, he was given cause to rue his haste that morning. In
his excitement of learning his package had arrived, he had not taken adequate
time to study the spells in his spellbook. The burning hands spell had been
the last in his memory.
Dirj cursed himself as a novice and concentrated on keeping the stirges at
bay. By now, blood was pouring freely from several cuts in his skin. He
knew from the slickness on his back, that he was seriously hurt and had to
finish this quickly.
Dirj threw his body fully behind the next swing of his quarterstaff and
connected squarely crushing the head of another stirge. Three stirges
remained and one bit down onto his right arm. Dropping his staff in pain, he
grabbed the strige with his left arm and yanked it free. His right arm
dangling at his side, he swung the stirge with his left using it to bludgeon
another stirge from the air. The stirge hit the ground and he was on it.
Dirj flexed the muscles in his leg and he ground the struggling stirge into
lifelessness.
Again he cut a bloody arc through the air with the stirge in his hands as he
flailed at the remaining stirge. The stirges met in an impact that jarred
his arm. The lifeless stirge flew several yards down the alley before coming
to rest in a heap against the refuse bin. Dropping the dead stirge, he
kicked his quarterstaff out of the alley into the light.
Offering a prayer of thanks to Mystra, goddess of Magic, for his life, Dirj
fumbled through his bag searching for a small vial. Grasping it as he
cleared the alley, he pulled it from the bag and unstoppered it. Drij downed
the sweat tasting potion and watched in relief as the jagged cuts on his body
began to knit shut.
Dirj rested a moment and then continued down the street to the entrance of a
small warehouse. A swaying green sign overhead identified the establishement
as Gwarmo's Emporium. Pushing the heavy wooden door open, Dirj was relieved
to see Gwarmo had indeed stayed to meet him.
Gwarmo was a a short, pudgy halfling in the twilight of his life. "Hail and
well met!" greeted the merchant. Finally noticing Dirj's ragged appearance,
Gwarmo asked in alarm, "What happened to you? Did you have a run in with
those blasted thieves?"
"No, but remind me to respect the abilities of the smaller creatures" Dirj
replied with a crooked smile. "I got your message that my package had
arrived."
Gwarmo nodded in confirmation and his short legs pumped furiously carrying
him off behind a curtain leading into the back of his shop. Minutes later he
returned carrying a small wooden box. Paying Gwarmo for his prize, Drij
turned and thanked him on his way out.
Staying to the sunny streets on his return trip, Drij made an unventful
return to NeverWinter Square. Seeing his tousled hair and blood soaked tunic
coming, everyone made room for him to pass through. Returning to the inn, he
paid the innkeeper for another nights stay and quickly climbed the weathered
pine board stairs to his room. Latching the door behind him, Drij flopped
down onto the bed.
"This made it all worthwhile." Drij said to no one in particular.
Drij cut the ties that held the box closed. Flipping the box upside down, he
dumped the contents beside him. His attention now solely on the scrolls
revealed, he absent-mindedly set the box down on the nightstand. A large
grin played across his features as he took up the first scroll.Of the
Elfstone's Fading
(submitted by: Luthyen)
Luthyen sat alone in the tower room at Castle Stalker, gazing out over the
north road where she had last seen Gambit. The tower room was her sanctuary,
and had been for a while. Her sword Star Seeker hung on the wall. Next to it
was the ebon inlaid fine long bow that Gambit had had specially made for her
by the Dwarves of Axepeak. The fine woven piwafwi he had brought back to her
from his last journey to the Underdark was neatly hung on a peg.
Her hand caressed the Elfstone, which hung now around her neck. She touched
it now and then for comfort. Deep within it was the ruby glow which had
entered the blue-green nexus of the stone when she and Gambit had first
bonded. As long as she saw that glow, she knew that he yet lived. She looked
for it frequently...yet with a sense that sometime soon she would not see it.
For Gambit had returned to the Underdark, knowing that to do so was to tempt
fate..and the goddess he called Lolth..perhaps once too often.
A soft knock sounded on the door, and Elessara peeked in. "My lady," she
said softly, "Is there anything I can get for you?"
"No Sara, I thank thee," replied the mistress of Castle Stalker. "Is
Swordie still down in the basement trying to get the MacSatan right?"
"Aye, he is, " Sara chuckled. "Now he has Maddie trying to read the recipie
to him while he goes from shelf to shelf, seeking out the ingredients..."
Luthyen smiled wistfully, as a dull "boom" issued forth from the
sub-basement. "Well, they'll get it right someday..and enjoy the finding.
Now, go, Sara...I believe Perin is awaiting you?"
"Well, yes, but if there is aught you need....I will stay with thee...."
"Go, dear. I'm fine. I'll just sit here a little.." Sara looked back as
Luthy's eyes returned to the North Road. She shook her head, and left the
room, meeting Perin on the stair.
"How is she?" asked the Ranger Lord. "Is there anything to do?" Sara shook
her head silently, took Perin's hand, and the two descended the tower stairs.
Luthyen's thoughts travelled far away, to her first meetings with the old
Drow, at the dracolichs in WindyCliffes, the Inn in NW, exploring the far
reaches of the Realms. She smiled fondly, recalling their brief time together
in KOJ..and her brow furrowed as she felt again the fear she had known during
his DeathMatch. She shivered..then her thoughts turned to her sons, now far
away...she must send a message to Feldspar, and to Myrkryn, telling them of
Gambit's leaving.
A wisp of smoke arose from the windows leading to the cellar. Luthyen
noticed, and hoped that Maddie and Swordie wouldnt burn the castle down
around their ears. The Protectorate..her brothers and sisters..such a
comfort to her now. It was a shame that the young cadets would miss the
...experience..of knowing Gambit. There were none like him, to be sure.
Thinking of the cadets reminded her that she had more baking to do.
Graduations meant that all the family would be coming home, and they would
all want her brownies. She smiled as she thought of the new Dryad recipie,
with the frosting. Fireforged was especially partial to that recipie. Better
make a double batch...
She arose, her hand once more going to the Elfstone. The ruby glow flared,
the faded, almost extinguished..she tried to Touch it, but could not..as she
watched the ruby faded, faded..was gone. She slumped in her chair, as tears
flowed again. She knew, now, that the Gambit who had been hers was truly gone
from her, and would not return.The Call - Part 1
(submitted by: Jaedrid)
A fight occurred earlier this eve
And the result was that, my life took leave
It was the second of two, for the first didn't work
But Mech Roman did show that he isn't a jerk
For the first fight did end as I got booted by the PM
But Roman did offer to start over again
The second fight was going okay until I found
That I had lost my Globe in the third or fourth round
That is no excuse for these things happen often
But the pain of the loss is not soon going to soften
The Punt Monster will pay, as a new poem I do write
About what I would do if Punt Monster would fight
So Roman, you've a victory to hold for the moment
I hope it's savor is sweet, but I do have one last comment
When next we do meet on the realms battlefield
It'll be you and not me that will die or will yield
Jaedrid
Saving on a Rainy Day
(submitted by: PanzerMagi)
I've lost my saves,
They're really gone,
Got gated a minute,
after I'd logged on.
Gagged and choked in a cloud,
got feebed as well,
My saves it seems,
they really smell.
Got clumsied in Berun,
Got held in the woods,
And every time I'm targetted,
I know it's not good.
I've tried to reset them,
I pray and I plead,
But maybe I'd be better off,
Just avoiding PvP.
But, I know that I won't,
although maybe I should,
'Cuz even with these saves,
I've been doing pretty good.
I might be affected,
I might hit the gate,
But I'll still keep on fighting,
'Cuz running, I hate.
So if you throw a clumsy,
and laugh as I fall,
Make sure you remember,
I can't win 'em all.
The Promise Land - Part 2
(submitted by: KEF Irish)
The sun rose and the animals began their daily routines. Sien awoke
with many problems in his head. He pulled up his pants and set out to wake
Fien up. As he reached fiens room he noticed the bed was made and all looked
undisturbed. A fient sound registered in Sien's ears so he went to the
window to check it out. As the scene registered in his head a wide grin
showed across his battle scarred face. Fien was welcoming the first family
to the McCallan Estate. There was an older man and woman acompanied by a
young boy. Sien figured he was probably there grandson and he set out to
meet them.
Fien was showing the family around as Sien walked up. The older couple
were slow to notice Sien but the boy had his hand on a skillfully hidden dirk
awaiting Sien's move.
"Do not worry lad, the name is Sien McCallan. All are welcomed to
this place, there will only be peace among us." Sien grinned as the boy
removed his hand.
The older couple moved to introduce themselves to Sien as Fien finished
chuckling at the boys reflexes. They were indeed the boys grandparents,
James and Galina Bjorn. The boys name was Alex and he had a athletic build
on him. His parents were killed in a goblin raid fifty miles from the
McCallan Estate. Sien admired the reflexes of the boy and when time fit he
would train the lad. Fien finished showing them around and helped them
settle in. Alex had wandered out into the open field and Sien followed.
"If ever you need anything do not be afraid to ask, I too was lost my
parents at a young age. Be it was for different reasons but the result was
the same"
Alex turned to Sien and put his head in his chest and began to cry like
a baby. Sien held him like he was his own son. Sien knew what the boy was
feeling and vowed to help restore his life as best he could. The two now had
a bond created after only a few hours of their relationship. Alex would
become the son Sien never had and the younger brother to Fien.
Weeks had gone by and many families came to the estate. Sien and Fien
had their hands full building fences and finishing the final touches on the
buildings. Alex and his grandparents were in charge of making arrangements
for the new families. Even at a young age Alex had the ability to find
dishonest people trying to take refuge in the welcoming arms of the
McCallans. This left a very sour taste in his mouth and he more than once
pulled his dirk to remove unwanted company. Sien noticed as the boy reminded
him of himself. He wondered if he could tame the wild heart as Sir Huma had
done with him.
In the evenings Sien would give lessons in arms and defense to the young
boys. Alex would train with Fien for his skills were advancing fast. Alex
was known to give some of Sien's squires from the KEF keep a run for their
money. What he lacked in power he made up with in cunning. He passed on
using a shield and went with a trident and dagger. Alex used his weapons in
fluid motion. Sien waited for the right time to send him to the KEF
trainers. He knew that Alex must mentally prepared for the powers he could
be taught. If he wasnt he Sien couldlose him to chaos.Mixed Ballads and
Poems
(submitted by: Tel Lindar)
Hail Neverwinter, I Tel' Lindar. An Elven Bard from The Children of
Seldarine. Throughout my journeys I have encountered many a fine ballad. The
attached pieces are some of my favorites. (the authors are written next to
them each)
Well, enough about me.. here ye are...
***
THE BALLAD OF THE AXE OF TARBANE WEIL. (the author of this one is unknown.)
In house or temple, in camp or field,
You'll hear of the axe of tarbane weil,
A tale that's told of a fighter fair,
Of elven spirits and what they bear.
There was a battle to be fought,
And one fair fighter glory sought,
He hung his sword upon his side,
and on his horse to war did ride.
Off to Ivers to join the fight,
'Twas early morning, the sun was bright,
The dew had risen, the air was clear,,
When a sobbing sound befell his ear.
He brought his horse to a slower stride,
And list' to hear if his ear had lied,
Faint but close he could hear the sound,
So he stopped his steed and he looked around.
There at the edge of a willow wood,
Light as the dew, a young girl stood,
Bathed in sunlight with downcast eyes,
Soft as the morning her weeping sighs.
He called out to her and as he spoke,
He saw she was of the elven folk,
She looked at him and raised her hand,
And with her eyes she bade him stand.
She said in a voice so sweet and low,
"You ride today to fight I know,
But dare I ask that you fight for me,"
With that she pointed to a tree.
Beneath a willow twisted and old,
Two bodies lay there dead and cold,
One was that of a father elf,
The other that of the girl herself.
The spirit said, "'Twas just last night,
While walking home in the starry light,
A thunder of hoves came loud and clear,
A man it was and he halted here.
"With a smile he withdrew his blade,
And threatened us to do what he bade,
My father's axe was all we had,
So we offered it as booty glad.
"The man mistook it for advance,
And cut him down with scarce a glance,"
Then he shot me with a wicked stare,
And pulled me to him by my hair.
"With brutal force he had his way,
Then killed me too and rode away,"
The spirit fell upon her knees,
And wept among the willow trees.
He wept with sorrow, he shook in anger,
"I'll hunt him down discount the danger,
His name fair spirit, who was this beast,
Went he west or went he east?"
"His name I do not know," she cried,
"But on hie breast a badge I spied,
Sable serpent on field of ore,
Upon a sable cloak he bore."
"The beast's as good as slain,"he said,
And started off, "He'll soon be dead,"
But then the elven spirit spoke,
"Beware the man beneath that cloak.
"You'll find a mighty fighting man,
And may this help you all it can,"
With that she held the elven axe,
And the fair man stopped and walked on back.
The axe was brilliant in the sun,
Of elven skill and next to none,
The woodsman's axe no longer there,
But a battle axe and proud to bear.
He thanked the elf Gods for the gift,
And knelt to give the axe a lift,
Though 'Twas massive tempered and sharp,
It weighed no more than the elf girl's heart.
"Face him bravely on our behalf,
And do not fear his wicked laugh,
You'll have no need for helm nor shield,
For this is the axe of Tarbane Weil."
And as he took it from her hand,
A willow stood where she did stand,
The elven girl was gone from view,
And in her place a willow grew.
The axe in hand the man took flight,
For he was sworn into the fight,
But he'd sworn to avenge the elven folk,
And the victim spirit to which he'd spoke.
Into the camp he rode that day,
And with the army into the fray,
Through all the battle sounds he heard,
With every strike, the spirit's words.
The axe of Tarbane Weil in hand,
He helped the army in their stand,
When all was over, the battle won,
They gathered their dead by the setting sun.
Then his eyes beheld a mount,
Which all the fighting did not count,
And on it's back there rode a form,
As dark as clouds above a storm.
Like an arrow into his heart,
He saw the cloak of sable part,
And there within a badge did show,
The ore and sable he did know.
Thought he was spent and bleeding still,
Something magic stirred his will,
He threw off both his helm and shield,
and raised the axe of Tarbane Weil.
On his feet he charged the steed,
As though a demon had been freed,
The horse reared up with eyes of fear,
And threw the dark cloaked rider clear.
The fair one turned, the dark one rose,
And braced himself to meet the blows,
His blooded sword he raised on high,
And an evil glow was in his eye.
The first blow glanced, the fair one missed,
The dark one's sword did somehow list,
The dark one then began to grin,
And the fair one turned to strike again.
They came together blow for blow,
And as they fought they neither slowed,
And as the dark one fought the fair,
His wicked laughter filled the air.
And as they both kept on fighting so,
The elven axe began to glow,
The fair one said, "You've sealed your fate,
With elven lives you took of late.
"The way you cut him as he stood,
And killed his daughter in the wood,
By the act your fate is sealed,
And by the axe of Tarbane Weil."
With a cry the dark one stood,
As still as stone, and weak as wood,
The fair one struck the cloak of dark,
The elven axe had found it's mark.
The sable serpent split in two,
And on the spot a willow grew,
A woodsman's axe lay in the tree,
A symbol of the spirits freed.
The fair one lived the tale to tell,
Of how the dark one fought and fell,
And how the elven Gods did yield,
The magic axe of Tarbane Weil.
***
This is another of my favorites. It was written by the esteemed bard of KORT:
Morngrym Verigost (I hear he loves praise if ye like it as much as me)
THAT WHICH REMAINS
So much has been done, thought and seen
Some remembered, much more lost
In this realm of ours, like a dream
Swirling in the shrouded mists of time.
Who drank the last glass of wine
made in glorious Myth Drannor?
Who placed the first dusty tome
In the ancient towers of Candlekeep?
Who crafted the first Harpers pin
worn by these brave women and men?
All alas are forgotten...
Who forged the mystical sword Polaris
in the hidden reach of the Dragonspine mountains?
Who walked along the paths of the elven wood
before the vigil of the Standing Stone?
Who set that first, heavy block
for the walls of Waterdeep Palace?
These alas...have slipped away...
The deeds of heros, and treachery of villains
Dragons and battles and songs once sung
Feelings and triumphs and regretful loss
These and so many more...
Eventually escape our mortal minds
If not for the tales of scribes and bards
Of these glorious things left behind...
***
One last ballad for now...
This ones done my me pal, Danilo Thann... {OOC: done by Elaine Cunningham,
(c)TSR}
There was a knight who longed to wield
A more impressive lance.
To carry into battle
And to aid him in romance.
A wizard overheard this knight,
And granted his request.
The knight, at first, was overjoyed,
To see how he was blessed.
The knight went to a party,
With his weapon thus enhanced.
The lance made didning difficult,
And tripped him when he danced.
The next day at the tournament,
He won the jousting meet.
For all who faced his fearsome lance,
Fell laughing from their seat.
Hey There- Ho There-
A lesson's here for you!
Be careful what you wish for,
For your wishes may come true.
I am always looking for new stuff, if any people out there want to exchange
poems, ballads, maps, lore, riddles, or anything else, I would appreciate
it!!!
Quel Re!
Tel 'Lindar
Tel' Osta en'Coia
TCS
Sped's Tale - Part 1
The Festival of the Embraced Flame
(submitted by: Spedlestor)
I have journeyed from a distant land, far to the east, beyond the lands
of Vaasa. I hail from a band of elves, the Clan Celceir, who live in the
forests to the north of the city Revalia in the realm of Mercia. We held an
uneasy alliance with a nearby band of elves, the Clan Corelleth. As a lad, I
often departed from my kin, preferring the solace of solitude in the
surrounding woods, and I spent a great deal of time there, trying to avoid my
uncle, who, if he found me, would set me to some tedious, menial toil. He
was too busy to fetch me himself, and it was child's play to elude the
servants he sent for me. I avoided the company of my peers, as they had no
interest in me outside of the many tales of wonder and glory I could recount
about the adventures of my renown parents. I truly knew no more than that of
those who had sired me. In my clan, my mother, Aurellis Silverfaun, was the
daughter of one of the council elders, as well as an accomplished student of
the arcane arts. My father, only remembered as Greenpike, was on par with
the greatest hunters and warriors in all of Mercia. Before I had been born,
they had traveled to many distant lands and returned with fantastic and
exotic tales and treasures. In my twentieth year, my uncle became my ward
once word was received that my parents had fallen in battle against a
powerful lich and her undead horde.
As I grew older, I would, at times, shadow my uncle and, from a
concealed position, survey his business transactions. He was clever, shrewd,
and greedy...very much unlike the eldest among our clan. I observed his
skill and always assumed myself unseen, until the one time his gaze met mine
and he winked with an evil grin...and it felt like the very shadows I hid in
had crept into my heart. His commerce was held with many types; Corellan
elves, merchants from Revalia, and mercenaries from parts unknown to me.
Intrigued by the diversity of his business connections, I decided to venture
into the city of Revalia, at the early age of one hundred and twenty years.
Here begins the history of Celebelen En'galenehtar, better known as
Spedlestor...
Part One -- The Festival of the Embraced Flame
Dramatis Personae
Aris Draconir - King of Revalia
Celebelen - Elven Rogue
Ce'lellin - Trade Inspector
Darwis - Captain of the Royal Guard
Mandrake - Renown Assassin
Timandricus - Royal Advisor
Young Darwis - Eldest son of Darwis
Five mercenaries, several royal guards, merchants, and travellers.
I set out early on the morn of the tenth day of the sixth month to
travel to the near city of Revalia. This was to be the day of the annual
Festival of the Embraced Flame, in remembrance of the day 218 years ago on
which old King Olgren and his forces subdued Camzahlibran, the ancient red
dragon that monitored all the main trade routes in order to intercept large
amounts of treasure. It is said that King Olgren forced the dragon into
servitude, and by extracting information possessed by the dragon, knowledge
that had been lost by man for centuries, was able to magically lace his
bloodline with the blood of dragons.
The main routes to the city were clear for travel, but the gates of
Revalia were crowded with merchants and travellers seeking entrance, but
being halted until all their possessions had been thoroughly checked by the
city guards. My youthful exhilaration pressed me to skirt the walls of the
city at a safe distance in the surrounding woods, until I came upon a
suitable spot to enter; The edges of the forest had crept up and embraced the
city's walls on the southern edge, and the vines there were able to support
my compact and light frame as I climbed to the top. Upon reaching the top of
the wall, a moment's pause was required to take in the immensity of the city.
It stretched on in all directions farther than my eye could detect. With
keen vision, I could pick out the center of activity for the festival off to
the north, and I grinned boyishly in anticipation of what I might find there.
I could only help but ponder why the elves of my clan spoke so little of
this nearby place of wonderment, but as I descended down the inner wall, I
found myself in a shadowy alley surrounded by buildings which languished in
disrepair. The air was cold and stale, and it felt as though the sides of
these buildings were enclosing upon me. Hastily I moved through the winding
paths of these back alleys, keeping my senses attuned to the clamors of the
festival to guide my steps. The path I traveled was deserted and
unobstructed, but I caught the sound of several footfalls upon the loosely
cobbled stones coming from somewhere nearby to the east. While moving, I
scanned down every alley that crooked to my right, and at last I saw a large
man with flowing raven-black hair followed by five slightly smaller men
wearing leather armor and carrying crossbows upon their backs. As my head
turned to mind my path, I caught the glimpse of something flaxen-gold in the
corner of my eye, but by the time I turned again to peer down the side alley,
it had disappeared. I pressed on further, quickening my steps in search of
the warmth and light the festival would surely offer in favor of these
winding, chilled dark alleyways.
At last I burst out onto the main street, and the sunlight fell upon my
face. Both sides of the street were crowded with all sorts of people;
peddlers, merchants, street performers, food vendors, and the general rabble.
Most of those present were human, but there were many elves, gnomes, dwarves,
and hairfeet present as well. The central part of the street began to clear
as a procession began to make its way through. There were several armed
guards wearing lovely cerulean tunics over their chainmail, and the lead four
carried long pikes with banners attached. The banners waved about with the
striking emblem of a red dragon's profile raising a claw as though in
preparation to rake. In the second and third ranks came several similarly
armored guards carrying shields which were emblazoned with the same symbol of
the red dragon. The central body of the procession was a large platform
carried by six well-muscled men, and upon this platform rested a decorated
throne occupied by a thin, yet attractive nobleman who may have have been but
barely two decades in age. Standing behind him was a tall, gaunt figure in
black robes trimmed with iridescent red. This man stood with his hands
folded across his chest, and his face carried upon it the lines of wisdom.
Whereas the young nobleman's face was bright and of much cheer, it was
down-played by the grave look of composure upon the visage of his advisor.
The platform was followed by more ranks of guards, and the one to bring up
the rear was decorated with traces of gold and silver in his tunic along with
an ornate helm carrying an ostentatious plume.
Six men brushed past from behind me, the first nearly knocking me into
the street. Recovering quickly, my hand gripped the hilt of my still-
sheathed shortsword as I took a step forward to follow. A tight grip clasped
my shoulder and prevented me from following. I spun to meet the gaze of a
beautiful and young woman, standing a few inches taller than myself. Her
long golden hair fell straight to her shoulders and her expression revealed a
strange mixture of compassion and concern. She wore a deep green tunic over
leather armor, and carried a longsword at her side, a short bow and quiver
upon her back, and a dagger tucked into her right boot.
With a warm smile she spoke, "That path will only lead to a storm of
misfortune. Hasten not to your death, young one."
"Then I must keep company with the fortune that smiles upon me," I
responded. She peered hard into my silver eyes.
"Celebelen. Son of Greenpike." She addressed me and I stepped back,
suddenly startled, shaking her hold upon my shoulder.
"Y-yes...how is it you know me?"
"Ask no questions now. Turn and observe the events about to unfold, and
then follow me without further question."
Compelled by a sense of something beyond my capacities to comprehend, I
silently turned to witness the six men halting the procession. The largest
man, the one I had seen previously leading these men through the back alleys,
called out with contempt, "I shall restore the true line of kings to the
throne of Revalia! Death to Aris Draconir! Death to the tyrant!"
The royal advisor stepped forward and waved his hand nonchalantly. The
quarrels were loosed, but their flight stopped short of their target,
bouncing away harmlessly as if repulsed by some unseen barrier. He made
another gesture and from his hands flew darts of light, which traveled nearly
too fast to see, and the assassins were each struck by one, taking all of
them from their feet.
However, the largest assassin stood unscathed, and he sneered as he
spoke, "It seems yer magic is not strong enough to pierce my own wards."
With a short laugh he threw down his crossbow and drew his sword, an immense
blade that glowed with a cold blue radiance. He rushed forward into the
thick of the first rank of guards wielding the blade in his left hand with
little effort and great skill. All of the other assassins, save one who
continued to lie motionless on the ground, picked themselves up and drew
their swords to engage the royal guards. The lead assassin moved with a
speed which belied his large size. The first of the four guards who blocked
his path found himself unarmed after two quick motions of the assassin's
blade. The assassin's right hand lashed out and grasped the throat of the
unarmed guard, and with an unnatural strength, spun the guard's body into the
path of the oncoming attack of the next guard. The assassin dropped the
mortally wounded guard to the ground and swung his sword high. The second
guard stood motionless, momentarily shocked at having struck down his own
comrade, as the blade swept cleanly through his neck and the lopped head
never lost the expression of horror as it arced through the air. I took a
step back at the sight of this, and realized for the first time that most of
the crowd had departed and the few onlookers who remained had become morbidly
silent. Only the harsh clang of metal, the sound of swords crossing, brought
my attention back to the fray.
A youthful guard was valiantly keeping the lead assassin at bay while
the rear guard rushed forward for support. The nobleman atop the platform
glanced at his advisor and questioned, "Timadricus, why do thee nae use more
of thine magic to aid my troops?"
Unmoved, the advisor responded coldly, "In close melee such as this, I
may...inadvertantly...strike one of your guards."
The lead assassin addressed his adversary with a knowingly evil grin,
"Say lad...aren't ya the son of Drawis?"
"Aye foul assassin. The blood of my valiant father guides this blade I
wield. Ye shall die by my hand this day."
"Hah! I shall be certain to desecrate yer grave, boy!"
As Drawis, the Captain of the Guard closed the ranks to engage the
assassin, The young woman standing behind me clasped my arm and began to pull
me back into the winding alleys. The last of the battle I could witness was
a deft parry by the assassin before running his sword to the hilt through the
young guard's stomach.
I struggled none as this woman led me through the shadowy back alleys.
We entered a side door that led to the hall of a poorly-lit tavern, and she
continued to lead me to the back rooms, past the kitchen and pantry. She
opened a cabinet door, reached her hand inside, and after hearing a quick
click noise the back wall slowly swung inwards to reveal a passageway beyond.
(to be continued...) The Wedding - Part 2
(submitted by: Mad Drunk)
The meeting with Drk Anjel at Striders did not go as the Drunk
planned. Not only did Anjel throw a bottle at him (wasting good booze!!!!),
she also kicked his chair out from under em in front of the whole crowd. The
crowd laughed to DA's obvious enjoyment, but MD was not amused.
Stealing a bottle of whiskey from Striders on his way out, MD
headed to the Hellhole to discuss the situation with the KAAOS ELDER,
Malhavok. Unfortunately for the Drunk, Malhavok left the HELLHOLE earlier
that night in pursuit of new souls. Left with only one alternative, MD
hopped in the hot tub, and proceeded to drink his newfound marraige/problems
away.
Fifteen minutes and an empty bottle later, Mad Drunk finally came
up with the solution. Hopping out of the Hot Tub, the KAAOS GOD rummages
through the hellhole for what he would need for his plan. When MD finally
was ready to leave the HELLHOLE, he was dressed all in black, and carrying a
7" serrated dagger. Mad mutters a few words to a spell, and he steps through
the shimmering gateway.
The GOC compound seemed quiet to the Drunk as he stepped through
the gateway. Quickly dismissing the spell, the only easy way out, the Drunk
drops into a defensive position, studying the air around him. If his
predictions were close, his dimension door spell should have brought him
somewhere near DA's chambers. Attuning his senses to the Anjel, he moves
with stealth through the halls. After accending several staircases, and
actually hiding from something saying "HET, HET, HET", MD stood outside Drk
Anjel's door.
MD starts to open the door, then pauses. Moving his hands in
intricate patterns, the Drunk casts "find traps" on the door. The door
begins to glow softly, until the glow finds the magical emanations of the
trap. "Slay Living", he thinks while he studies the trap. If he would have
opened the door, he would have either taken damage, or fell over dead.
Standing to the side, MD begins another incantation. Blackness shoots forth
from his hand towards the door, and the magic is dispelled. He steps up to
the door, and opens it.
Drk Anjel lays peacefully sleeping on her bed. This fact adds to
his suspicions that DA was the one responsible for the wedding. Pulling out
his borrowed serated dagger, he approaches the sleeping Anjel.
Mad contemplates slitting her throat, ending this marriage once
and for all, but decides to stay with his original plan. He quickly casts
silence over the bed. Holding Anjel's left hand out, he prepares to cut the
ring off her finger. Quickly the dagger flashes towards her hand, and
strikes at the ring. The dagger is met with a bright light, and flies from
Drunk's hand. MD sits there, mouth agape, wondering what magic the ring
possessed. His pondering was cut short, as a bottle smashes against his
head.
Jumping into a backroll, Mad lands away from the bed, scooping the
dagger up with his hand. Drk Anjel stands on the bed yells obscenities at
the drunk. She obviously didn't realize the ring of silence kept him from
understanding a word.
The Drunk threw back his head and laughed at the comedic scene
before him. His laughter was quickly interupted as another piece of glass
shattered around him. "O.O", he thought, someone is definately gonna hear
that ;x He looks back one last time, DA now has the bedpan readied for a
throw. Shouting, WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!", MD jumps into the hallway,
slamming the door behind him. He laughs again as the bedpan hits the closed
door.
Mad Drunk puts his dagger away, and starts towards the only exit
left, the gate of the GOC compound. As he turns the corner, he runs right
into a midget, bowling right over him. He continues to run towards where he
thinks the exit is, now hearing cries of, "KILL HIM" and "HET, HET, HET".
Running at full speed now, he enters another room, then skids to a
screeching halt. The GOC barracks although mostly empty, has way too many
people for the Drunken God to risk waking. Turning to leave, he sees the
HET, HET, HET guy enter the room.
"HET, HET, HET!!", the midget screams at the Drunk.
"WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!", MD yells as he jumps on the nearest
bunk. He has found his way out... the room has a window. Mad jumps from
bunk to bunk on his way towards the window, stepping on people more often
than not. He hears people shout in confusion behind em.
"OUCH", walkndeath stammers after catching a foot in the gut.
"MOMMY", Kymil yells as he eats a boot to the head ( HEH {S
BOOTHEAD).
"KYMIL", Toramarth yells as MD accidentally steps on his groin.
The whole barracks eventually wake in confusion looking for the
source of the disturbance. Just as Mad Drunk dives out the 2nd story
barrack's window.The Beginnings of a Hero - Part 1
(submitted by: TrueShield)
Once, in a realm far far away from the mainlands of Faerun, there was a group
of islands. They were unknown to all except for the few peoples that lived
there. This story is about one Darrian Trueshield, and his quest to find his
place in the world as well as the long forgotten Isles of Windermere.
Chapter One
It was a dismal day at best. The forest was soaked with the drenching rains
that had plagued the woods for the last week. Darrian walked up to the
Winged Fury, the only bar in town. It was not the prettiest building, with
mold covering the walls on the outside and doors that look like that could
rot at any moment, but it didn't matter. It was the only bar in twenty
leagues. As Darrian entered, he heard the usual songs that often made a
tavern so loud, and in these times, a place of happiness. He searched the
room for his adopted father as he entered.
"What are you doin out in such weather my boy?" proclaimed the barkeep,
Orhust, who knew everyone in town. Orhust was a stout, sturdy, and slow
moving guy with the wits of a brick. Though, he was no guy to go to "fist
city" with.
"Freezing my self to death Orhust, thats what." Darrian replied "Say, have
you seen Armous? He is supposed to come on the caravan trip, and I need to
find him."
"He is down at Bryno's general store. He said that he was looking for bags
to carry some armor in."
"Armor, he said armor? That's strange."
'How's that?"
"Orhust, my family doesn't have any armor, nor do we have the money to buy
it. Maybe you just heard him mumble something else. Well thanks for the chat,
and take care, we will be gone for the next three months."
"I know I know, and you better take care your father too, he's a wily one!"
Orhust yelled as he waved goodbye.
Darrian trudged out of bar quickly, but not without regret. He was going to
miss everyone in Yertok, which was his home since his adopted father, Armous
found him in the woods. But then, he was excited like never before. He
would finally see the big cities, and all that they offer.
He quickly made his way to the general store hoping he could find his father
before he left.
"Ack, how I hate this rain!" Darrian exclaimed in frustration when his foot
slid into a mud hole.
"Anger will get you nowhere fast." said Darrain's father," You should know
that after you broke your fist on Gorin's face last week."
Darrian's father was a short, muscular man who's business was to grow trees
to take the place of those cut. He was a patient, well to do guy with wits
that could cut stone.
"I thought it was worth it myself." Darrian retorted "I asked Orhust where
you went, and he said that you went to the store for a bag made to carry
armor. Why? We don't have any armor."
Darrian saw a flicker in his father's eye, and saw his face pale before his
eyes. It firghtened him deep in his heart. He had never seen his father
afriad, not when when the town was raided by fifty gnolls two years ago.
Something in him quivered.
Armous broke the silence,"Let's get out of this rain before we sicken."
They headed for home, but inside, something in Darrian knew something was
wrong... Deathly wrong.
Chapter two
It was a bright sunny day, and birds were singing their praise to it. The
caravan was ready to go. Everyone in Yortok said their goodbye's and
farewell's as they prepared to leave Yortok for the great city of
Neverwinter.
"Do you think that we will have a good profit this year?" asked Gryfor, one
of Darrian's long time friends.
"We should. We had better lumber this year than ever before. I don't know
if the caravan will get there in time though. The rain might have washed out
one, or two of the roads." Darrian answered.
"That never stopped us before, besides, we are leaving early this year."
Gryfor assured.
"I hope so." Darrian mumbled.
Darrian began to stroll along the side of the caravan. As he walked, he
wondered what he will find and see in the grand city of Neverwinter, and
during the one month trip there. He dreamed of grand palaces, shows, and to
see the swarm of people crowd the streets as they did their chores and other
odd jobs.
Darrian decided to walk back to his horse, and follow the forward groups. He
mounted Harwind, his horse, and began the journey at a soft trot toward the
frontward groups. When he reached the front he ran into the caravan leader,
Flatorn,.
"Hey! Flatorn! Which way are we going this year?" Darrian asked.
"We are going to go through Yinred Pass to Neverwinter, and on the way back
we will sail across the Sea of Swords to Yinred, and take the Pass back."
Flatorn answered. "Go to sleep, we have a few trees to clear, so we won't be
moving for a while."
"Alright." Darrian said as he turned around to go to his carriage car.
Chapter Three
It was a lonely trip so far. Fog had enveloped the path with its eerie grip,
and had given everyone a chill the the very marrow of their bones. Darrian,
like the others was very on edge. He fingered his crossbow with anxiety as
he surveyed the edge of his vision. He felt that he was being watched.
Being a ranger for his entire life had given him an uncanny hearing and
sight, but his greatest gift was one that was not physical, but spirtual.
Ever since he was five years old, he has been able to read, and interact with
other's dreams. Last night, the dreams were very disturbing. Even more, he
felt another groups dreams. They were faint, but he knew they had hostile
intentions, though he didn't know who they were directed at.
Darrian decided to go to the front section of the caravan, so he spured
Harwind forward to the front. He saw the front scout returning to report.
Some thing was wrong. He was galloping. Instantly, with the skill of a
season ranger, Darrian aimed his crossbow, loaded it, and readied his supply
of bolts in the blink of an eye. He was the first to respond by firing at
the shadowy figure behind the scout, and the bolt flew true striking the
figure in the heart. The next moment was that of a scene from a nightmare,
only, it was real. Fireballs flew into the rear scetions of the caravan.
The searing heat has felt all the way to the front. Then, arrows swarmed
into the front ranks of the caravan gaurds. They tried to return fire, but
they were no match for the mercenaries that swarmed them. Darrian could only
watch as the only friends he had ever known in his life were burned or slain
on a bloody pike.
Chapter Four
Darrian's fear soon shook him from the ghastly sight to a more pressing
matter. The raiders were fast approching his position. He quickly ran to a
small rocky terrace with ten other gaurds from the caravan.
"Darrian!" screamed one of the men.
"Gryfor! You are alive!" Darrian yelled back.
"Of course I am slow poke. Get your butt up here before they turn you into a
pin cushin!" he answered.
The nine men, Gryfor, and Darrian fortified their position with seven
spearmen in the front, and four bowmen, including Darrian and Gryfor, in the
rear.
"Fire!" screamed Gryfor when the enemy had come in crossbow range. Three of
the bolt flew true, striking three pike wielding mercenaries. They continued
firing, but not with the same luck. Suddenly, a fireball blazed into their
position. Darrian heard the screams of the seven spearmen as their voices
sounded for the last time.
"Retreat!" screamed Gryfor. They were scrambling to the next defensable
position as a scream rang out. One of the crossbowmen had been hit in the
liver by a barbed spear. Darrian screamed to the other warrior not to turn
back, but it was to late. He turned back to defend his lost friend, but was
slain while trying to retrieve his friend's body when a soldier cut him down
in cold blood.
"I can't stand to see this." Darrian moaned.
"I can't either, but we must go on." Gryfor replied in a vain attempt to
comfort his friend.
They ran, at last, into a small canyon-like path to a dead end.
"This is it." Darrian said as he trembled.
"I'm afraid it is." Gryfor answered.
"I don't know about you, but I am going to make them pay for this." Darrian
growled with a rage which he never knew he had.
"I agree. They are going to pay." Gryfor replied with the same cruel hatred.
That moment, the enemy came into sight. Darrian drew his crossbow, and fired
it at close range, hitting one man in the shoulder, and then killing two
others as it continued its flight of death. Gryfor drew his two handed
sword, and swept aside a pike, and slashed one of the soldiers across the
chest. The fight continued with out losing its intensity, or its vigor for
what seemed to be an eternity. Finally, a wizard appeared behind Gryfor. He
put his hand on his back, and cast a spell. Darrian could only watch in
astonishment, and horror as a bolt of energy smashed its way through Gryfor's
body in an array of sparks.
Darrian could not bare the loss of his best friend as it drew him into a rage
that could shake a mountain's foundation to rubble. He drew his sword, and
slew the mage without a single regret, and raced forward into the remaining
soldiers. They were not prepared for the vicious attack that comes from the
loss of one's loved ones. With a savage stroke with the force of a mighy
giant, he slashed through two swords killing their weilders as that watched
in horror of their impending doom. Darrian then swung his sword once again,
slaying another soldier with an uncanny swiftness.
He then faced three other mercenaries. He dueled with the soldiers, he
slashed his first opponent in the neck, and with a few strokes, had stabbed
one in the heart, and dealt the other a skull cracking blow with the flat of
his sword in mere moments.Their was only one soldier left. He was frozen in
horror by seeing the other soldiers slain in a few moments. Darrian came
forward to deliver the final blow that would end the soldier's life. But he
stopped. He lowered his sword, and said, "No. I can't kill you. It would
not help me feel any better, knowing that I killed someone who couldn't
defend himself." The soldier looked into Darrian's eyes, and saw the horror
that he had seen. Darrian fell to the ground. The soldier thought, "He
spared me even after what I had done to him. I owe him my life." He picked
Darrian up, and left him with some other survivors from the caravan. He then
left, never to harm another soul again.
Chapter Five
Darrian was one of the lucky ones. He was able to retreat to a nearby cave
with fifteen others. Darrian had only a minor wound where an arrow had
brushed his side.
"Hello there. I see that you are in need of some healing. Let me take a
look at it." said a cleric as he came out from one branch of the cave.
"Sure." Darrian replied as he took a drink from a tin cup he would always
carry on a hike. "What's your name, and if you don't mind, do you think you
could make this water taste any better?"
"The name is Valik. I am a cleric of Torm, and yes, I can make that water
taste better." The cleric waved his hand over the drink, and said a prayer.
Darrian took a sip.
"Much better."
"You should be fine, but don't pick at the wound, or it will fester, and
become infected."
"Thank you, but the healing I really need isn't for the body." Darrian said
grimly at the memory of his lost friends."
"You too lost friends to this ghastly attack. You are not alone though. I
lost some friends myself. Let me introduce you to a friend of mine that did
make it."
A thin lanky man walked out of the shadows, as if on cue, and replied, "My
name is Griffin. I am a mage, and I am a long time friend of Valik. I am
pleased to meet you. I saw what happened to you, and your friend in that box
canyon. I would have come to help, but I thought you were dead by the time I
had a change to get there."
"This is one of the men we saw in the canyon!? You my friend are a lucky
man." Valik said in surprise.
"I wish I was the one who died, not my friend." Darrian said as if he was
reliving the memory.
"I'm sorry. I forgot, what is your name?" asked Valik.
"My name is Darrian."
"A good name, I would think." said valik. "Consider us your new friends."
"Thanks. We had better hurry to the conferance. We have to discuss what we
are going to do with the others." said Darrian. They all rushed to the
meeting where the heated debate had already started.
" I think we should follow, set traps, and weed them out one by one until
they are all dead." one said.
"No, there are too many of them. That would take too long. I have lost too
many friends. We should go out and slay as many as we can before they find
us here, and roast us on a stake." another replied.
Darrian stood up in an attempt to use his greater than usual height. "No. We
should not do either of those things. We should surrender to them, so we
will not lose any more people."
"How dare you say that coward!?" the second person screamed at the top of his
lungs. He took his fist, and shook it in Darrian's face with a rage that he
had never seen.
"Because their deaths would be in vain. They knew they they were going to
die. They were buying us time, even though they knew that they would die
doing so. If you attack them now, we will die. Do you think that they would
want that, that they would want us to die? No. If we surrender, we may find
a way to escape later on. Are you with me?" exclaimed Valik.
"I too agree to this stratagy. We do not know the strengths, nor the
intelligence of or foe. We should do our best to learn what our opponent is
like in order to defeat him." Griffin inserted with perfect timing in order
to convince the revenge thirsting part of the group to go along.
"We are with you!" they all declared.
As the group cleared away to rest for the night, a stranger came up to
Darrian. "Your Father wanted me to give you this."
"My father?" Darrian asked.
"Yes, he said with his dying wish, that I give this bag to you." The stranger
handed Darrian a huge canvas sack that looked like it had armor in it.
Darrian open the sack, and it had an ornate set of plate armor in it.
"Your Father said he found it next to you when he found you alone in the
woods. He would be proud of you if he was here, though for some reason, I
think he is."
"Thank you." was all Darrian could manage as he wept.
Chaper Six
It was morning. It was a bright sunny day, though to those who survived, it
didn't matter. Nothing did.
Darrian prepared himself for the surrender. He decided to wear the armor
that was given to him last night. It fit perfectly, and not only that, it
was weightless. It was amazing. The plate mail armor was perfectly fit and
weighed nothing. Then he relized, the armor is magical. The armor glowed
with a faint blue arua. Darrian felt proud, and he realized that it was time
to go on.
"Sir, since you are the one who led us to this decision, it is our wish that
you be our leader. Will you take this burden?" Asked one of the men.
"I accept this burden with pride." Darrian answered.
They all walked out of they cave, and spotted the leader of the raiders.
Darrian made sure to have his friends beside him in case he would need their
timely support as he did in the cave. They all decended down the slope
toward the leader, and stopped when the gaurds formed a wall.
"Let them pass." Said the leader. The leader was a lean human covered in
robes of some unknown origin. Darrian could see that he was a cleric or mage
of some sort, maybe both.
"We have come to you to issue our surrender." Darrian declared.
"You are a wise man to do so. I heard about your conversation with these
others. You should be more careful about spies in your mist. I know all
about your little speech. Quite impressive, Valik. I accept your surrender.
I am Kanusy. Guards, take them to the holding cars, but do not take their
weapons. If they are harmed, I will find the one responsable, slit his
throat, and feed his carcass to one of the dracoliches.
___________________________________________________________________
This is the Part 1 of The beginnings of a Hero Series. Next will be Part 2
about their daring escape from Kanusy's raiders to the Sea of Swords to warn
Neverwinter of the impending danger from the mad cleric.Ballad of PolRom
(submitted by: PolRom)
Gonna smash a troll today (Doo Dah, Doo Dah!!!!)
Thirty boars is what I'll slay (all the doo dah day!!!)
Adventuring is what I do (Doo Dah, Doo Dah!!!)
Have a PvP or two (all the doo dah day!!!)
Going to live all night
Going to live all day
Gonna get so drunk today (all the doo dah day!!!)
Poke 'em poke 'em with a lance (Doo Dah, Doo Dah!!)
The punt monster don't stand a chance (all the doo dah day!!!)
Hit 'em high hit 'em low (Doo Dah, Doo Dah!!!)
Just make sure I ain't too slow (all the doo dah day!!!)
Going to live all night
Going to live all day
Gonna get so drunk today (all the doo dah day!!!)
Fighter, Magic user dualed (Doo Dah, Doo Dah!!!)
Lawful Good, I am not cruel (all the doo dah day!!!)
I carry a Flail plus three (Doo Dah, Doo Dah!!!)
Rings and Cloaks and AC3's (all the doo dah day!!!)
Going to live all night
Going to live all day
Gonna get so drunk today (all the doo
dah.........................DAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!)
PolRom
Farewell Highland Daughter
(submitted by: Dunvagenn)
The sun had just begun to dip below the horizon as Dun, Duncan and Maure
reached Loch Alsh. Already there were Haemish, Malcom Leod, and several
hundred men and women of the MacLeod clan. In the ground next to him, Haemish
had planted a large staff with the clan's crest embroidered on a huge banner
which snapped and rippled in the stiff breeze that blew down off the loch.
It was an impressive sight, hundreds of men and women holding torches all
clad in the MacLeod tartan. Dun felt a great sense of pride as he looked into
so many faces of his fellow Highlanders. All was silent as eyes now turned
to Malcom, their chieftain. Strapped to his back was the enormous MacLeod
family claymore and in his hands he held a wreath of highland heather. He
walked slowly toward the burial raft; piled high with oil soaked timber. Atop
the mound of timber lay Gwyneth's body, wrapped all in gauze except for her
head. All about her face were scattered red and white rose petals. Malcom
bent forward and kissed her one last time, then gently placed the wreath on
her head. Pausing for a moment, Malcom then walked over to Dunvagen. The cold
hard gaze of his granite gray eyes met his son's. He reached out for Dun
clasping his shoulder. "Son, I believe yer mother would have chosen you to
recite the final parting." Malcom stepped back and motioned for Dun to stand
in front of him.
Dun stepped forward and began,
"Deep peace be with you-
As you travel on your way
Our memories of you will not fade with the passing of each and every day
Deep peace be with you-
As you head back to mother earth
Who's gentleness will warm you at this time of your rebirth
Deep peace be with you-
For these calm cold waters will quench your burning thirst
Rest for a moment, tis not a race, it matters not if you be last or you be
first
Deep peace be with you-
And fear not, your path is clear and you shall not roam
Just listen for the pipers, their tune now calls you home
Deep peace be with you-
For this journey has now come to an end
Rest now, for next is soon to begin
Deep peace be with you-
As he spoke the last words his voice began to quiver, now feeling the full
weight of his mother's passing. Dun paused for a moment to gather himself,
All silent, then Malcom passed to Dunvagen his torch. "Peace be with you my
love, your work here is done. Go knowing that your memory will always be in
our hearts and minds." Malcom then nodded to Dun, who stepped forward and lit
the raft. Duncan, Haemish, Dun and his father, with a great shove, pushed the
raft out into Loch Alsh. The wind quickly caught hold of the raft and moved
it out into the center of the loch.
The night sky glowed bright orange as the flames leapt heavenward. Soon the
entire raft was engulfed in flames and as they reached Gwyneth's body, a
brilliant flash of light burst forth and then all was gone.
The music began softly as the lone piper started to play. In unison, the
other three pipers joined in adding depth and power to the tune. Dun turned
around to see that each turret of the castle had been lit with a single
torch. Next to each torch stood a single piper play the bagpipes. The music
echoed down through the valley and across Loch Alsh, filling the air with
love as the Highlands said goodbye to one of its daughters.Dragonsquest -
Part 1
(submitted by: LrdRAZ0R)
I was just about to copy another spell into my book, when the blast of
trumpets nearly caused me to mar the page. Squinting though the bright beams
of sun filtering into my study window, I reassured myself that not a mark had
been made, and rushed outside.
Here was a grand sight: people crowded around something in the square... As I
walked over, I noticed that the people appeared awestruck, strange for what I
judged to be a parade of some sort.
As I got closer, I could make out a large cage, with four guards surrounding
it, yelling at the mad crowd. My curiosity got the better of me, and pushed
my way through to have a look.
Inside the cage, to my horror and amazement, was a small black dragon. Now,
small for a black dragon is the size of a large man, which qualifies this
dragon as lethal. I sought to find out more about this dragon, and I pulled
aside one of the guards. "Guard.. who caught this dragon?" I asked.
"Sir, it was Lord Nasher, his grace," the sniveling guard replied.
As I turned towards the palace, I wondered why Nasher would bring a dragon
into the center of Neverwinter. As if on cue, I heard Nasher's booming voice
from the direction of the cage. I whirled around, and saw him on top of the
cage with his arms spread wide, addressing the crowd.
"Good people of Neverwinter, please do not allow hands or feet between the
bars of the cage, as they will become this dragon's meal. Now, don't be
afraid to look, gather 'round," He said lightheartedly.
I shook my head and walked towards my house near Strider's Tavern. After all
I had spells to copy, and rest to catch up on..
The next morning came sooner than it should have... I was awakened by one of
Lord Nasher's squires. He was trembling slightly when he spoke, yet managed
to stutter out a message, "Sir... Lord Nasher wishes your p-p-p-resence at
the p-p-p-alace."
I got up out of bed, whirled my cloak around me, and walked out. The
sunlight nearly blinded my eyes, and I locked the door behind me hurriedly.
Following the Squire's brisk jog over to the palace, I soon found myself
staring into the old eyes of Lord Nasher.
"Razor, I have called you in here to help me with a very serious matter," he
began.
I suspected another one of his quests, so I stood up quickly and began to
walk out. I didn't have time for such foolery.
"Have a seat, this is important. The dragon we captured yesterday, It's
loose. This morning we found the guards dead, and the cage broken and cut to
splinters. The beast's tracks lead out of the city, but it has been sighted
a disturbingly large number of times since."
I sat down slowly, trying to comprehend everything he had told me. Drawing
in a large breath, I asked, "So what do you need me for?"
Nasher settled back in his throne before answering, "Before you became an
assassin, you hunted dragons, correct?"
I nodded once.
He began again, "Well... you would know more about these beasts than anyone.
Not one adventurer I know will go near..."
Here I interrupted him, "Listen, I have no time for this. Why not consider
hiring a ranger to do the job..."
Nasher sat forward in his seat, and stared right into my eyes. He stood up,
and spoke, "There will be a reward."
I chuckled, and thought. A little dragon wouldn't be too difficult, and
Nasher's rewards were sometimes of great value. I was just about to answer
when a scream was heard outside. Nasher and I ran from the castle, and heard
screaming coming from the gardens. There, a woman was kneeling next to a
young man. Trembling she pleaded to us, "Look what that beast did.."
I turned the man over and looked with disgust at his wounds. His face was
frozen in horror, his hand clenched around his sword still in its holster.
There were claw marks all along his back, and most disturbingly, a bite mark
on his shoulder. The flesh around the bite was green and black. This could
mean one thing: this dragon was endowed with the infamous poisonous bite of
adult Black Dragons.
I turned to Nasher, and spoke calmly, "Something will have to be done." He
nodded, and I quickly added, "Will you help me then?" I gave him an
expressionless stare, "Aye."
<To Be Continued>Low Tolerance
(submitted by: Quickfire)
Softly strumming in the night
he sings a rambling tune.
Day has lost its friendly light
but dawn is coming soon.
Branches weave a roof of green,
shadows in shroud of mystery
Stealthy things which walk unseen
above the leafy canopy.
A girlish voice joins with his own
soft and sad, from in the tree
he sings of dangers he has known,
she shares the languid melody.
Ending song, he packs his harp
into its case of teak
his instincts are not all that sharp.
Ale makes his stomach weak.
He steps into his bardic home
and promptly goes to bed.
But on the path, eyes from the gloam
shine bright with pupils red.
Sadness flares to anger hot.
She cannot be consoled.
She failed to net this addled sot,
and partake of his soul.
She is no fool, she's never said
that bards were easy prey
even for one who has been dead
yet lived another day
No matter, for fresh blood abounds,
she's thinking, as she grumbles.
Her musing has a hollow sound
as empty stomach rumbles.
KAAOS - Champions of the Neverwinter Guilds PVP Tournament
(submitted by: Slayve)
The young boy sat next to the old man on the steps of the armor shop in
Neverwinter. "Tell us the story again, sir" said the excited young boy, and
the gathered crowd of about 15 children echoed his request. "Pleeeeease!"
they all shouted. The toothless, sightless old beggar merely laughed, wet his
dry lips from his wineskin and sat the lad on his knee and began his tale to
the throng of children once more...
"These are the tales of legends, boys", said the old man. "The kind you hear
passed down from generation to generation. But we live in exciting times,
boys, exciting indeed", the old man took another long sip from his wineskin.
The wide-eyed children barely breathed, so that they missed none of the
story. "This is the tale of the greatest PVP battle the lands have ever
known!" he shouted for dramatic effect and the children cheered wildly, but
quickly quieted down when he raised his hands. "These events are happening
around us right now, and just barely a new moon ago, BDA and KAAOS fought to
prove who were truly the best warriors in the realms. MECH teams, UDL teams,
ITB teams, Mask teams, OGS teams, and KEF'ers all fell before the might of
KAAOS and BDA. None stood in their way, and when the smoke cleared on all the
battlefields, there were two decisive victors, and no doubt the two most
powerful Guilds had made it to the final battle". The old man heard the
children whispering excitedly, and he smiled as he knew he had their complete
attention, as he began his legendary tale...
"It was a cool, cloudless day in the Neverwinter Woods. High noon. After the
punishment of the Night Mask team by KAAOS, and the destruction of the once
powerful ITB's at the hands of the deadly BDA, the two most powerful PVP
forces in Neverwinter would clash this day. The Dreadlord of KAAOS, Sir
Rellik, entered the North East woods on his jet black stallion, letting his
blonde, flowing mane fall around his shoulders as he dismounted. The Demon
God, Slayve, seemed to appear out of the thin air from amongst the shadows of
the trees, his obsidian flail at the ready. Azimer rode in on his Arabian
steed, dismounted, and with a wave of his hand the creature shimmered and
disappeared into thin air. The False Prophet of KAAOS arrived last,
fashionably tardy. Cloaked in dour gray and holding his Twisted Cross, Hedron
waited impatiently for the bloodshed to begin." Another pull from his
wineskin and the old man continued...
"The Drow team of Kh0lari, Sylverion, Modalex, and Sagx seemed to ooze
gracefully from the shadows and were ready to attack in the blink of an eye.
The fight would be amongst giant scorpions and deadly remhoraz'es. Slayve
entered first and quickly ran to the left and Globed. In came Sagx, Sir
Rellik, Modalex with no incidents, and each globed in turn. Sylverion
appeared in the midst of the Remo's and fate played it's fickle hand.
Sylverion's appearance seemed to startle the giant worm-like beasts and one
attacked Sylverion and it's deadly maw was wrapped around Sylverion's torso
before he could even react. In one long gulp, Sylverion was gone. The Gods of
KAAOS laughed! Yet they knew the battle was far from over. Fumbles, Stink
Clouds, and holds flew as the BDA'ers tried to overcome their one man
deficit. Slayve and Azimer cornered Modalex from the others and quickly set
about pummeling him. He was nearly dead as he Dimension Door'd away to catch
his breath. Slayve quickly followed with a DD of his own, as he would not be
denied his kill. Meanwhile, Kholari came under the effects of Rellik's Hold
spell and things looked grim until Sagx freed his Held companion. Hedron cast
Lightning at Sagx and Kh0lari, but both Globes were still intact. Sagx and
Kholari quickly surrounded Hedron and started battering him with their deadly
drow magic.
Hedron staggered free and headed for the gravely wounded Modalex. He would
get one kill in before his own demise, he vowed. As Kholari ran back to
Hedron, Azimer and Slayve once again surrounded Modalex and repeated their
deadly assault on the wounded Drow. Hedron, sensing his death was near,
unleashed a final devastating blow to Kholari just as the drow sent him to
the gate. No sooner had Hedron fallen, than Azimer delivered the killing blow
to Modalex. Kholari now sorely wounded tried to Hold Slayve, Azimer and
Rellikk but failed. After an ill placed attack by Slayve, Sir Rellik's nine
inch serrated dagger ended Kholari's time in the battle and the Gods smiled,
now knowing it was but a matter of time. Sagx sent a Lightning Bolt through
Slayve and Rellik, but they retaliated with magic of their own and Sagx ran
for cover under their deadly assault. The chase was on! Sagx's guerilla takes
proved effective for a few rounds, but once surrounded, he was quickly
overwhelmed. Azimer, Rellik and Slayve battered him down and in a final
scream of "KAAOS!!!", Sagx's bloody body was sent gateward and the Gods of
KAAOS stood victorious!"
The children remained silent for a second more, then let out a boisterous,
wild cheer. They jumped up and down and started a "mock PVP" amongst
themselves. They laughed and shouted as the images of the legendary battle
were still fresh in their minds. The young boy on the old man's lap merely
looked at him, "What happened then?" he asked innocently. The old man took
the boy from his knee and raised his weary bones to stand. "That is a
question which only the future may know the answer to. There shall be other
struggles and there shall be other warriors to test the mettle of KAAOS in
the future, and other tales shall be told about those battles too. Be patient
young one, the best is yet to come." said the old man as he picked up his
wineskin. The boy pondered a moment, and jumped up excitedly, "Thanks
mister!" he yelled and bolted to where his friends were still playing.
From beneath his hooded cloak, the old man's mouth formed into a sinister
grin as he stood upright, dropped the wineskin to the ground and sight
returned to his eyes. He pulled the hood back and anyone who would have been
watching from the shadows would have seen Doc Krypto there, laughing, and
reveling in the glory of KAAOS.
SdM
(submitted by: Edain Eles)
An article in the NW News draws your attention. It is in an script
unfamiliar to you yet it has peeked your interest. Eager to know it's
meaning you take it to Never Winter's leading sage. He barely glances at it,
smiles, and offers the following interpretation:
"Hail Former Victims of the Spirit Lurkers,
This letter has been composed in an ancient tongue unknown to any of the
Lurkers. Some of my guild compatriots are getting a bit cocky. And I am
hoping to advance in the guild thieves ladder competition. So I thought what
better way to acheive my goals than to set them up.
It has come to my knowledge that some of the Lurkers are planning to rob Lord
Nasher this Sunday, May 19th at 5:30PM eastern time. I have sent word to
Lord Nasher but since I know not the plans for the invasion of his castle I
doubt he and the NW's will be able to stop this well laid out plan. He is
however interested in seeing justice served.
I alone would not be able to stop them. Nor would I care to do so openly.
This is the plan I have devised: There will be a lawful noble in Never
Winter that will cry out the alarm at the specified time. It will be up to
you to find where the Lurkers are holed up somewhere near Never Winter. As a
reward you will be allowed to keep one of the items stolen from Lord Nasher
for you invaluable service.
What do I have to gain from this you might ask? Just the satisifaction of
seeing some of my fellows caught in the act ;>
Edain Elessendil
~Knave of Hearts
~Lord Nasher's Favorite Bard
~Basic Robin Hood type guy
PS: By all means tell your friends. Especially the newbs in your guild."
Upon your offer of payment the sage holds up his hand. "Edain has taken care
of my costs involved in the translation and insured that I will not give out
this information to any of the thieves in the Spirit Lurkers. Unprepared for
such treachery they will assuredly fall easily to a rapid search of the
immediate area. Good luck."(submitted by: Jyorlan)
When on a badge run with more than one person, one should wait right where
you get the badge. The other should give the badge he recieved to the first,
then go back through and come in again, he will recieve another badge. This
can be done as many times as you have room in your inventory ;>(submitted by:
Elgiem)
Greetings:
On Saturday, May 25 I will lead a group of new players on a quest to rid the
Realms of the evil wizard that has taken residence under Floodblest. Any
Non-evil characters are invited to participate. Those interested should meet
me at NeverWinter Square at 9 pm EST. If you need more information or wish
to confirm your attendance please send e-mail to screen name Elgiem.
In the name of The Flame;
Elgiem / KEF Elgiem of the Silver Glade
Knight Protector
KEF Apprentice Master (submitted by: KAAOS Web)
The KAAOS Hell Hole Web Page is open for business at:
http://www.best.com/~ego/kaaos.htm
Come worship yer Gods. ;)(submitted by: Braveapm)
How to defeat dracs without breaking a sweat:
On May 15 I discovered a way to defeat dracs ver easily. You barely have to
break a sweat if you follow my instructions, and this is how to beat the
dracs:
To beat the dracs the first thing you must have is a preferably small
group of adventurers, or you can be alone, being alone is easier but either
way will work. You have to have about 40 Hp and a good AC to do this. About
-5 or better will work. Once you have entered the battle let the skeletons
surround you or block the dracs from getting next to you. This will prevent
them from really hurting you with their attacks. Once they are blocked off
they use their fiery breath to kill each other, just like a huge, undead pyro
snake.
You must also have a mirrored shield because, when their is one drac
left he uses his paralyzing gaze to getat you. The shield will sometimes
reflect the gaze. This can paralyze the drac. Once it is paralyzed move in
for the kill. The rest of the skeletons will be easy kills, and then you earn
yourself an easy 60K experience.
------ Brave APM -----<><><><><>
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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
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