1996-12-01
Recovered original text · preserved verbatim
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NEVERWINTER NEWS
Issue # 162
Week Ending 12-1-96
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FRONT PAGE
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Congratulations to Kyrasha for winning last week's News of the Realm contest
for his story entitled "Possession".
Kyrasha 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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Congratulations to the ITBs for compiling the most "Newsworthy" entries to
the News of the Realms for November!! They win the monthly reward of 4
pearls which goes directly into their guild fund!! ;D
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Cause Serious Wounds Booth -- 11/25
Tonight was the night that the brave adventurers of Neverwinter pitted there
powers against the Mighty Amra, Lion of Neverwinter. One by one they fell to
the powerful Cause Serious Wounds spell being cast by Amra. However, there
was one who resisted, one brave adventurer who came in first, and resisted
the massive damage the other brave adventurers endured. It was also amazing
that he was the first one in and still WON!
The Lion tips his help to Elysiagary, Winner of the Cause Serious Wounds
booth!!!
WTG!
Amra
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New Player's Tour -- 11/26
A City in Crisis
Having been asked by Lord Nasher to travel to the city of Nightsedge in
order that I might calm the often agitated mayor of that fine town, and find
out more about his concerns regarding a recent influx of some "new" variety
of orc, I sent out a call to the various adventurers present in the realms.
Calling my urgent duty a "tour" so that the dangerous mission would sound a
bit more palatable, I soon had assembled a small army of eager folks with
whom to complete my mission.
Sallying forth from the Neverwinter Gardens, we were quite a sight to
behold. Myself, Jaketyler1, Bluewombat, Bloodbath0, Snick at N, Ssb Loki 1,
Lazezbach, Tpritch708, and Seldon Ra (who had volunteered to assist with any
stragglers from the expedition that might develop, and who shadowed our party
as it traveled) all moved out cheerfully, intent on our goal.
Moving quickly through the wharves, then somewhat less quickly through
the winding path through Floodblest, we eventually came to Nightsedge. Our
party lost a few along the way, who found themselves called away upon various
varieties of urgent business, but we also gained a brave soul or two, and by
the time we stood near the gates from Floodblest, our party included myself,
Lazezbach, Bluewombat, Cgmadmike, Snick at N, Ssb Loki 1, Jaketyler1, and
Seldon Ra.
Resolute in our purpose, we pushed on into the treacherous forest
surrounding Nightsedge city. While the fighting was not easy, we never lost
hope -- we merely lost a few of our allies to the effects of punts, and what
is often mysteriously called "OOC constraints", forces which eventually
reduced our force -- tho' not sufficiently to stop us from our chosen task.
We made our way to the troubled town, and after having thrown my weight
around a bit to gain us past the quite suspicious guards protecting
Nightsedge, we eventually gained the audience we sought with the mayor. At
first, he didn't recognize us and drew his sword. But upon seeing my name
blazoned with the dark green symbolic of my ilk, he quickly relented and told
his tale. I'd heard it all before, it seemed, but Nightsedge has always been
a town known for new varieties of orcs -- a seeming proving ground for every
bloodthirsty band of them.
After reassuring the mayor that Nasher would "look into it", I decided
we were entitled to a bit of coddling, and headed to the Nightsedge Inn --
famed for its room service and courteous bell-hops. Needless to say, I was
quite surprised to find the door barred before me, and the interior a
seemingly abandoned shell of its former self. Undaunted, we descended to the
basement and managed to track down the proprietor -- bravely crouched between
two cases of imported Fey wine. Still driven by his notorious thirst for
wealth, the propriotor agreed to allow us to stay upon seeing our rich trove
of gold, and several members of our party turned in for the eve, unable to
continue any further.
I was not to be dissuaded, however, and gathering to me the two
adventurers with enough stamina to push on, we forged our way back to
Neverwinter. The going was tough, and we suffered more than the occasional
scratch, but eventually our evening was complete and I stood beside Cgmadmike
and Bluewombat in the familiar streets of Neverwinter -- 3 adventurers
satisfied in a job well done.
This guard gives thanks to all who joined him in this quest of mercy
and reassurance, and I pray that we may always find such worthy souls to
assist us in future times of need.
NWA Drake
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New Player's Tour!!
Rumors had been circulating for years about a ghost ship near Port Llast.
Nasher called upon a trusted member of his guard, NWA Simba, to find hearty
adventurers to check out the ship and see if it was really haunted.
Simba roared out the call for volunteers. TPA Xena
9,Swifthawk,Mchew1596,Parataw and HC ElforeReaper28 alll answered the call
and proceeded to head to Port Llast. Along the way, they were joined by
Chebela, Calvin Sim and Alurr.
While the part traveled through the wilderness, they were harried by wolves
with every step. TPA Xena 9 and Swifthawk were seperated from the group in
the cinfussion of the attacks and a living tree took the life of Mchew1596.
The group found travel to be difficult, but, the hearty adventures pressed
on, fighting their way through wolf packs, wild boars, giant rats and living
trees. Long was the journey and heavy were the losses, but, after a long trip
the survivors found themselves in the Port Llast in, ready to rest up,
refreshthemselves and head out to the rumored location of the ship in the
morning.
RRRROAR!!!!
NWA Simba
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Rigors Booth Results!! -- 11/27
A hearty congratulations to the survivors of NWA Simba's Rigors booth!
Mech Jener, Silverbow, Warr Shirm, Lord Grud, OMM Rand and SOL Shugar each
recieve two pearls for getting past NWA Simba's Charm, Poison and Holds!
RRRROAAR!!!!
NWA Simba
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Rigors Booth Results -- 11/30
Rex rushes to the stockroom in the far northeast corner of the Warehouse
District, after hearing of the riot in progress and the looting about to take
place. As the many different classes and allignment of good and evil gathered
around, pounding on the door trying to get in for the goods. Rex makes his
way threw the hostile crowd to the front, trying to calm down the crowd.
With not much success, Rex slips into the room and shoves the door tightly
behind him. As the door begins to give way, Rex summons up the powers of
Electricity, fire and Ice to aid him in protecting Lord nashers goods. Warr
Lusts is the first to enter the supply room as the powers cast down upon him,
tossing him to the wall with 52 hp of damage. As Lusts rests against the wall
in severe pain, S1r Eagle, Struxx enter taking powerful blows and blasting
them out of the room. Warr Child enters, Blding Stron and only taking 49
points in damage, holding the lead as several others enter, wanting at the
goods.
TT Rage, Anakina, Prehac and Lord Aar0n burst in quickly as Rex throws
numbers of Electricity, Fire and Ice at them casting them all to the wayside.
A sly grin crosses Rex's face as the little Drow female Merkasta enters head
strong and charges at him. Rex, casting quickly onlt does minimal damage of
48 as Merkasta takes charge and holds her ground for a long period as several
other, charge in trying to take the lead.
Ganzelle, Doughless, SKDeerJon, VenomDveil all rush Rex, but as the power
with in Nashers guard prevails and tosses them to the side with the others.
Rex's eyes narrow on the door waiting for the next who dares to challenge him
for the goods. Sol Shurgar enters with a rather large drow male behind her
Abzzsta1n. As Sol Shurgar takes the blows, moves into the front with only 45
damage as AbzzSta1n, barges threw the door, ripping it from its hinges,
wanting the prize that awaits behind Rex.
Rex quickly throws with what energy he has left causing 46 points of damage
to the AbzzSta1n. As Rex notices all the other have fleed the area as Lord
nashers guard is to strong for their liking. Rex leans against the wall and
looks around the room at the severly, paining sounds of the ones who have
tried to loot the supply room.
Out of the corner of his eye he notices Sol Shurgar with what strngth she
has left slips out with 5 Pearls and escapes quickly before Rex can grab her.
Rex's turns to the room and slowly casts the group from the room, baring the
door once more and content on only loosing the 5 pearls, hoping Nasher will
be satisfied with his work.
Congrats to Sol Shugar for winning 5 Pearls in Rex's Rigors Booth.
NWA Rex
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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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~?~?~?~ Trivia Night!!! ~?~?~?~
A reminder to everyone that Trivia will be this Tuesday, December 3rd at 10pm
in the Great Hall!! Gather all your answers and put your thinking caps on
for this grand event!!
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New Player Tours:
Join the following staff members for a tour of the Realm:
December 2nd Monday 3:00 PM EST - with NW Aziza.
December 5th Thursday 6:00 PM EST - NWA Priest.
Those interested in any of these tours should keep an eye out for the banner
telling where to meet! ;D
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This week saw continuation of the celebration of the Grand Opening of the
Sisters' Tavern in the Great Hall. Monday began their new schedule of
operations, Monday Wednesday and Friday from 11 p - 1 a est. A crisis had
arisen, however, with Mystri and Spryte having received an eviction notice
from their landlord. Many kind offers of lodging came in for the Sisters, and
were much appreciated. The TavernMaids are now nicely settled in a little
cottage with a rose garden in Neverwinter City, found by Petalflow who won a
three Pearl prize for his realty skills.
Wednesday night Delrond won the night's tab free and a two Pearl Prize for
exactly matching Mystri's Random Roll. Many beings of various races were in
attendance, including Pseudodragons, Kendar, Duregar, and Drow...and the
Tavern survived the occasion only a little the worse for wear and minus a few
torches.
On Friday the Drow came out to play...citizens of the Underdark came to the
Tavern to enjoy their..unique..beverages of choice. Laele was the recipient
of GOH Access for her Drowishness during the evening.
The upcoming week will feature Neverwinter's favorite MECHanical beings, the
MECH. Monday opens with an entertainment suggested by MECH Havoc, a
Singfest. The most entertaining song or poetry will win the prize of the
evening..limited macros are encouraged to allow the patrons to better follow
the lyrics. On Wednesday, the Sisters' Tavern will hold a drinking contest,
also proposed by Mech Havoc: ask Mystri for a Random Roll for the number of
drinks consumed during the evening..and the high number at the end of the
evening wins.
Finally, Friday, the MECH themselves are welcomed to drop in for their
favorite 30 wt oil..the sisters hope that their newly reinforced floors will
support the weight of the MECH..Patrons are reminded of the House rule to
Bare no Blade and Cast No Spell. Best RP of the evening wins the prize.
For further details of the Tavern Events, Readers are referred to the Great
Hall Tavern folder in the Events section of the Neverwinter Nights Messaging
area. All are invited to enjoy the Free Form Role Play each Monday, Wednesday
or Friday night from 11pm - 1am EST.
~The Roving ReporterThe Bolt - Messenger of Destiny
(submitted by: Tyo Ark)
Drip, Drip.
The air in front of me clouded as I panted heavily, my back to a slime ridden
wall. Not moments before I had encountered what I certainly thought to be my
death. My twin shortswords glittered slightly in the dim torchlight of this
gawd awful hell hole. What had possesed me to venture into something such as
this? I longed for the peaceful quiet of the woods.
Drip, Drip.
That incessant noise would surely drive me crazy. I couldn't stand hear
forever in this cursed man made swamp. I knew he was out there in the
shadows, where I did not know. He had hit fast and hard, luckly, I had been
able to counter his furious attack before it was to late.
Drip, Drip.
Argh, that noise. It drove into my skull like the incessant buzzing of some
NOR with an ego. I'd have to make my move soon. I risked insanity waiting
here in this muck for much longer. Quitely, I sheated my blades. Unslinging
my cross bow, I cocked a bolt into place.
Drip, Drip.
Irratedly, I made my move. Tucking into a roll, I dove out into the hall way.
The damp sewage struck me like a bucket of cold water in the morning, almost
making me forget the purpose of this action. Cutting the roll in midway, I
layed sprawled out in a small stream of sewage.
Crack, thud.
My cross bow lay spent, the bolt like some bat out of hell flew true,
skewering my advesary to the wall behind him. Feebly he grasped at his throat
where the bolt had struck. With a last, admirable motion he pulled the bolt
from his own throat...
Slide, thud.
He sat there, like some doll left forgotten by a child. His eyes glazed over
slowly, as his wound formed a bloody bib on his chest.
Drip, Drip.
Quickly, I slung my cross bow and headed out into realms more
familiar.Tavern's Grand Opening
(submitted by: Petalflow)
DEM0NICA was bored.
Yeah, the drinks are great and the new barmaids are cute. But where are
all the bar fights and the naked people that used to be running around?
Dohh.. that's it, I'll have to cause some troubles here. Looking up, she
grinned. If the roof collapses, covers all these guys around in dust and
dirt, won't that give them a big scare? Wohh... how fun that'll be...
Mystri and Spryte sensed her motive and became instantly worried. Just
what we need, the sister barmaids looked at each other, a demoness who wants
more "fun". Now, if that roof collapses on our grand opening... they don't
even dare to think down that course any more.
DEM0NICA's have the time of her life now. Arching her legs, spreading
her wings, just the barmaids' panic-stricken faces made her heart pound with
joy. Giving the chair she squatted on a forceful push, she rushed for the
roof.
She teleported back to her chair, BEFORE she touched the roof.
Barely she remembered that somebody tapped her shoulder just before she
got off. Nervously she smiled and glanced around. The dwarves were still
arguing with each other, getting hopelessly drunk. The goblin was knocked
senseless again by Mystri, who appeared a bit over-protective of her sister.
The other customers seemed incapable of breaching her defense in such a swift
motion.
Except the knight sitting down the corner at the counter.
Black hair cascaded casually down upon his shoulders, covering his face
from sides, making it hard to judge his age. Gentleness marked his feature,
yet calmness stemmed from his proudness. an aura of inner strength radiated
from him. a sword in plain sheath secured to his girdle. Dusk rosy cape
covered his faintly golden armor. His hands rested on the dwarven ales in
front of him, like he hadn't moved in ages. Yet strangely, DEM0NICA could
have sworn that it was his hands that covred the distance between them in an
impossible amount of time and touched her in that splite second.
Maybe I'll just stick to the drinks after all...
PetalFlow wasn't thinking about how he foiled the demoness's plan.
After all, he liked the sisters. Young, enthusiastic and friendly, they
would make fine successor of Cyane. His heart couldn't help but aching a bit
at the thought. It's been that long already... Cyane's happy laughter on
her own grand opening sounded by his ears again, how her eyes absorbed the
surroundings, just like what the sisters are doing now, how they let the
proudness of being bestowed with such an honor sink in... a layer of mist
suddenly covered his multihued eyes. How many friends have come and gone,
like the customers in this tavern, enter and leave? When can he find
somebody, who will stay?
Sensing someone familiar at the door, the knight turned around. Lady
Ellyn stood at the door. Like many in Neverwinter, time left little mark on
her body, yet the eyes had changed. No longer the happy young lass he
remembered, a mature woman entered instead. not noticing him, she walked to
her usual table near the fireplace. Eager to talk to someone he had not seen
in such a long time, he carried his drinks over.
She appeared aloof, indifferent at his approach. Offering no resistence
when he sat down, her eyes were not focused. Only the drink interested her.
Sorrow again gripped PetalFlow's heart. He gently probed what she had been
doing, she only sighed and gave elusive answers, further confirming the
strange rumors about an affair she had with a man of great evil. The knight
let it go, ordered some food instead. She can handle herself, he reminded
himself.
People around them introduced themselves one by one, obvious at the
sisters' request. Their backgrounds interested him little. He had seen
enough places and heard enough tales. His thoughts sank deeply back into
memories, his eyes fixed in a far away point and he ponder his life, once
again.
Somebody asked for a bard. There was a strange urge in his throat and
he answered before he knew why, "I'm not a bard, but maybe I can sing a song
for you."
The man apparently didn't care who would sing. For a second, PetalFlow
was at lost. So many things and people, what would he sing? Looking around,
he decided easily, what would be a better choice than a song about friendship
and comradeship in a tavern? Clearing his throat, he began in a low voice.
It was the spring,
When I saw you with that sling.
My sweat dripped on the glade,
You only laughed at my blade.
On the branches you sat,
Rudely you spat.
Remember the fight?
My dearest friend,
Pebbles and wooden sword,
From night to dawn we fought.
That day the bond was formed.
By the gods I was condemned,
By the fate I was betrayed,
Yet nine hundred miles you came,
With your trust and your bow.
Only one understood,
My sorrow.
Yes,
That day she died,
Only you heard me cried...
How can I forget?
My dearest brother,
All those moments we spent.
I alone stand here now,
Looking at the place you fell.
Nobler than a knight you were,
How can life be so unfair...
I hear the wind wistling,
The willow trees weeping,
Twenty years have passed in a wink,
While you were sleeping.
Again,
In the moonlight I draw my sword,
Yet no more arrows fly to accompany my thought.
Rest easy in my heart, my friend.
Above the noise, the song floated , low but steady. Only those who had
lost their dearest friends could understand. When he finished, PetalFlow
remained motionless, overwelmed by his own sadness. He was quite startled to
hear the applause from the barmaids. Maybe they were not as naive as they
appeared after all..
A blonde girl in white cloak was now telling her story. Somehow her
voice caught his attention when other's had failed. It held a strange
magnetism to it. She told a sad story of how her father died at the hands of
thieves and how she was raised by her uncle at an early age. She became
quite adept at mage-craft, so good that she was shunned by many. Her tale
stroke a resonnance with PetalFlow. how many times had he been shunned
because people distrusted him, simple for his inordinary abilities? Her
fragile frame, her delicate face, all added a loveliness to her image.
The girl ended her story and retreated to her seat. it was then the
knight realized that Spryte had given him a number when he was entranced in
the girl's story. Aparently, he was expected to introduce himself next.
Smiling a bit wryly, he walked over and stood quietly in the center of
the room. He thought about his life, the people he had met, the friends who
had died. There was no point to say them all, in a way he was afraid that
people would never understand.
Again he chose to sing. Yet this time he sang about himself, his ideal,
after all, what he believed in defined who he was.
Riding alone in the setting sun,
I sing...
North wind, rising storm,
I challenge thee,
Prove thy might against a knight's stand!
From Huma's breast,
I come;
Beneath the gliding eagles,
I ride;
Upon my trusty steed,
I dance!
A dreamy sword, a golden mail,
Honor shall prevail...
Swirling sand, howling wolves,
Part before me,
Shiver as the warrior emerge!
From the glorious sunlight,
I descend;
Into the winking stars,
I stride;
Out of a broken dream,
I again forge!
Barren snow, fiery blow,
Crystal petals flow...
Gradually, the heroism in his song inspired even himself. When he
finished, he felt like ordering a drink around the house, yet he recollected
himself and withdrew back.
The girl was looking at him.
She stood alone by the fire, the orange light danced on her cheeks,
PetalFlow suddenly felt an urge he had not experienced in a long time.
Casually, he invited her to their table. To his surprise, she accepted
rather readily.
They did the usual chatting. During the conversation, he discovered her
name was Shana and he had met her father a long time ago. Quite a powerful
mage he was as well. So another person had passed away, the knight bitterly
reminded himself.
Shana's attention seemed to be straying from the talk after a few
drinks. Her beautiful eyes lingered in his, for a second, his heart
trembled.
"I want to dance," her voice almost musical.
Nodding toward Ellyn as manner required, PetalFlow tore his gaze
reluctantly away from Shana for a brief moment. Then he stood up and led her
toward the space emptied for dancing.
She appeared to be full of energy. Her body swayed with the beat of the
music. Turns and turns she swirled, her hands rested in his. Before he
realized it, their distance suddenly reduced to nothing.
Her face was inches away. Her arms wrapped around him, her breast
firmly pressed against his chest. A fire long extinguished now burned in his
heart. he suspected his own face was glowing as brightly as hers.
She shivered.
Shadow covered her eyes in a sudden and she shivered convulsively, like
she was in great coldness. His heart ached with her shudders. Yet he stood
helplessly. The barmaids saw the strange incident. Mystri came over. Her
eyes hard on the knight, suspecting him of foul play. PetalFlow stood
puzzled. The women talked in a low voice. Politely he moved away, far
enough to respect the privacy, near enought to help. His concern over this
stranger girl surprised himself.
For a brief moment, the barmaid walked away. PetalFlow strided over.
Gently, he layed a hand on Shana's back, where the pressure point lied.
Using the ancient eastern technique he had learned,he passed a wave of life
force through his palm into her body.
Icy rivers rushed toward the warm current. Confusion, fear, all twisted
and entangled with each other. PetalFlow fought them, keeping the current
warm and steady, melting away the coldness in her heart. Immediately she
appeared clamer. He withdrew before the protecitve Mystri came back, sighed
in relief, knowing she would be better for now. But the gentle probing only
envoked endless questions. Why such confusion, why such fear? Alas, how
many mystories can harbor in a woman's heart?...
The barmaids came back and this time led shana through the curtain that
concealed the hot tub. Obviously Mystri thought this would be the proper
solution...
In front of his eyes, images of Shana taking off her robe suddenly
flashed. Again, the fire burned in his body, only stronger this time. The
sensation strange yet familiar. something he had not experienced for a long
time, maybe too long...
The curtain parted and Mystri exited alone. A curious smirk on her
face. her fiery eyes swept over PetalFlow.
"She wants you inside." She said in a flat tone.
PetalFlow couldn't believe his ears. Seeking help, he looked over at
Ellyn, who only grinned knowingly.
"I can get myself home." Instantly she relieved him a duty his honor
bounded to ask for.
Only until then, he noticed the tavern was closing down. Customers were
leaving all around. Spryted was already helping the dwarves to walk out,
which they couldn't accomplish by themselves.
"Well, go in, she wants you insided," Mystri pressed on. For a second,
she winked, "I think the lady has taken a liking in you." Without waiting
for his answer, she walked pass him and left with her sister, closing the
door behind them.
The tavern was now totally empty, so quiet that PetalFlow could hear the
nervous breathes the person on the other side of the curtain drew.
In that moment, all his past blew pass his eyes like a gust of wind.
The friends, the enemies, all the places and people, all spinned and melted
together, fainting into a grey background
When his hands parted the curtain, a thought emerged. Maybe, like this
tavern, I'm ready for a new beginning as well.
The Coming Darkness
(submitted by: Ulhendl)
The baying of a lonely wolf was the first sign of the late hour. Though
on this moonless night, Calwyn wondered to what the animal was calling to.
With that thought entering his mind, the cleric began worrying again.
The night had always had that effect on him. Though cleric by trade,
Calwyn dabbled a little with sorcery and could well handle most troublesome
situations. And yet, he would rather face a horde of trolls during the noon
hour than an ordinary woodland animal at midnight.
Once again Calwyn cursed himself for his incompetence at navigation.
Even if the sky was not as cloudy as it was, the cleric doubted he would have
made much more distance. But Triboar seemed farther away now than when he had
started out earlier that afternoon.
The elven ranger and the two paladins, his traveling party and friends,
left Crossergate early that morning to reach Triboar by late afternoon.
Calwyn had other plans though. Plans he did not wish his friends to be
involved in. So he left a message with the innkeeper for his friends to leave
without him. He knew they wanted to return home but the cleric wanted to do
one thing before he left the town.
He knelt between the two gravestones in Crossergate Cemetery, head bowed
in silent reflection. Always did he dread coming here, to this place that
would forever remind him of his own shame, of one dreadful night that marred
his life for as long as he could know. But he felt an obligation... So he
swore that whenever he was in this part of the realms, he would visit these
two graves despite the pain it caused. As he remembered all this, tears fell
in memory of his father and older brother.
Another howl woke the cleric from his restless thoughts. Calwyn began
rocking back and forth on the log he sat upon, his gaze nervously switching
between his campfire and various points of the surrounding night. Hands
clenched his mace so tightly that his knuckles whitened. He hunched over,
eyes level with his shoulders, still looking about.
What was that?!? For just a moment, he thought he saw a twinkling from
the trees. A star? But the skies have been cloudy for days. No sun... no
moon... However that wouldn't mean a break couldn't happen. It could also
mean that the clouds would finally pour out its contents on the land. Calwyn
cursed himself yet again for allowing this to happen.
Although he could have made it to Triboar well before nightfall had he
taken the merchant road, he decided to cut through the wilderness in order to
catch up with his friends. That was the decision he would regret that night.
The cleric completely forgot about the rushing river he would have to pass.
On the merchant road, there was a wide bridge but Calwyn didn't know if there
were others along the bank... there weren't. He spent much time trying to
find a passable stretch across the angry river. And when he was across, he
had to go around many swamp areas and dangerously steep ravines. All this and
yet he was still far from Triboar. Even before the sun had set, Calwyn built
a fire much larger than he had needed. He didn't want to stay in these woods
longer than he had to but he dreaded venturing through the inky darkness even
more. And this is where he ended up.
The cleric shot his gaze upwards as he heard what sounded like wings
flapping. Praying that they were only bats, the cleric eased at their fading
sound. Almost immediately, however, Calwyn leapt off his log and turned his
back to the fire. A rustling in the bushes behind him had caused this and
still it persisted.
"Steady, Cal, steady...," he mumbled to himself half-believing he would.
Whatever was causing the rustling, Calwyn had to make sure he would be ready
to defend himself.
"Please... help me...," a thin cry came from the bushes as a small girl
stumbled out into the light. The cleric cautiously stepped over to the still
child. As he knelt down, he put his free arm under the girl and lifted her up
from the dirt. Her face was streaked with dirt and tears and her skin, as
well as her clothes, showed signs of unkind branches tearing at her. The
girl's eyes widened at Calwyn's touch...
"Help me, sir!" she uttered in a single gasp.
"Tell me, child," he replied, "what are you doing here? What do you need
help with?"
The girl took in a deep breath before she started explaining...
"They killed Mommy and Daddy... the monsters... they attacked us... and
they're still coming... help me..."
"No!" It was too familiar. This scene had replayed in his mind countless
numbers of times. It was a night like this in his fourteenth year. He had
accompanied his father and brother on a routine merchant trip to Longsaddle.
Young Calwyn had wanted a leather scabbard for the blade his father had given
him on his birthday, the blade he had started lessons on using. His father
had suggested that they camp in the woods instead of the money at an inn. But
during the night, dark creatures had attacked their camp. And although his
father and brother had raised arms against these unknown foes, Calwyn shied
away and ran through the brush. He could hear his family's dying screams
before he could get too far away. Even though he had escaped the slaughter,
he didn't escape the memory... or the fear.
"Augh! They're here!"
Calwyn turned his sight across the camp at the rustling bushes there.
The cleric raised up his mace, anger replacing the terror that had consumed
him. This time he would make things right and prevent the harm that noone
could years ago.
"Behind me, child!" he exclaimed, pushing the young girl to his back.
Out of the darkness crept the first of the creatures, a rotted, stinking
corpse whose flesh fell to the earth with each step. More of the zombies
appeared and surprisingly, Calwyn actually grew more confident.
"Now is the time to conquer your fear, Cal," he muttered to himself.
Grasping his holy symbol, the cleric lifted it and summoned the might of
higher powers. "I banish you in the name of Tyr!"
Several of the ghastly monsters melted into fetid pools of muck. Of the
ones that survived, Calwyn dispatched with his mace quickly and efficiently.
And as others took their place, the cleric repeated his cycle of turning and
swinging his mace with deadly accuracy. When it seemed that all his foes had
been defeated, Calwyn stood amongst over a dozen corpses... or what used to
be corpses.
"They came to me, even though they saw their comrades fall," the cleric
remarked, "Why?"
"Perhaps because they were ordered to." came a voice from elsewhere.
Before Calwyn could react, A being landed on his body and pinned his arms to
his sides. And while the cleric struggled to free himself, a clawed hand
raked across his neck, rending the flesh there.
Instinctively, Calwyn broke from his bonds and rolled to the edge of the
camp. Without hesitation, he grasped his gushing wound and pushed the pain
from his mind. The cleric then summoned his most powerful healing spell. And
although the severity of the wound prevented even half the healing it needed,
it provided Calwyn enough time to properly tend to it later.
He still held onto his bleeding neck as he surveyed the campsite. But
there was nothing save the lifeless zombies... and where was the girl? Calwyn
took up his mace and stepped towards the fire, constantly spanning his vision
around the encircling dark. Beads of sweat ran down from his forehead to
mingle with the blood on his neck.
More rustling to his side alerted Calwyn to a dark figure coming his
way. When the figure came into the light, the cleric gasped. The figure was
human, gaunt with a graying beard as well as skin and wearing tattered rags.
It looked like a normal zombie but for one difference...
"Father...?" the cleric's eyes widened in shock.
"You disappoint me, son," the figure spoke in a gravely voice. "You left
me and your brother to die alone. Yet you still take no honor of my memory.
Even now you swing that weapon instead of the sword I gave you. Others are
kept alive by their memories but to you I am less remembered than an itch on
your backside."
"That's not true...," the cleric cried, dropping to his knees and
burying his face in his hands. "I'm sorry..."
"Not good enough!"
As Calwyn looked up at the new voice, a large clawed hand grasped around
his neck and lifted him off the ground. Though the renewed pain to his wound
blurred his vision, he could still distinguish his attacker's frightening
features. Long fangs curved over drooling lips and blood red pupil-less eyes
stared him down. Protruding from the matted black hair were pairs of bestial
ears and horns. The man-beast stood just over seven feet tall and its
muscled, naked body was covered in short, fine hair so black against the
night, it may well have been a ray of light.
The beast's feral visage snarled in the cowering cleric's face before
tossing him against the broad trunk of a nearby tree. Pain shot all through
his body, especially his neck. Calwyn had little doubt that his wound had
resumed its crimson flow. But still, he would not give in... he lifted his
head to face the beast. But instead of the monster he expected, the cleric
saw a smaller figure instead. A figure draped in scarlet and ebon robes, a
short black beard covered gray skin. One eye was rimmed with blood while the
other was gone, replaced by a slight twinkling... a familiar twinkling.
Instantly, Calwyn saw the little girl, the ghoulish version of his father,
and the beast all in this man. And although there was no indication
otherwise, Calwyn knew that this was the being's true form.
"Who... are... you...?" he barely managed to gasp out.
"Though you are unworthy of such information," the being replied in a
bold voice, "know that I am he who feast off your nightmares and sup upon
your soul."
"Vampire!" Calwyn somehow found the strength to shout this before being
subdued by a fit of coughing up blood.
The being laughed. "Hardly. Though I consider them my brethren and kin.
And don't you find the irony that near death you gain the courage you so
lacked in life? How you fear the night so much that it would rule your every
decision."
"How..."
"I know because I have read your every thought, scoured your oldest
memories, and uncovered your deepest regrets. Even now, you believe that I am
Death itself. But I am only His servant... Of He who turns pleasure into
pain, weaves sorrow out of joy, and dashes hope from despair... He Who Walks
The Shadowy Plane of Night. It is He whom you have feared all these years,
mortal! On that night it was not the dark that had scared you so but the
pursuing death. So much so that you sacrificed those whom you loved to escape
it... But you have never escaped it though you cover it up in some silly
fantasy of night. It is your own folly that has brought you back here... to
this same spot where you had hoped to run away from forever.
As you watch your life fluids spill unto the earth, I bid you welcome to
your greatest fear... to that which comes after the dark...
I bid you welcome to DEATH!"
Calwyn's mouth opened to let out a scream of utter horror... but no
sound came out for the ever-darkening void had already begun to envelop him.
UlhendlA Soul Restored
(submitted by: Zacnefear2)
The faeruk moved slowly through the silent corridors of the house, having
just left his Ilharess at the warded door to her chambers. His mind relived
recent events once again. She had attempted to engage him in a spar. Yet, as
the gleam of her dagger glistened in the darkness, he again sought sanctuary
within himself.
Often in the past the hallways echoed with the gaiety of their laughter, and
their steel rang as music in their ears. But, memories of a bloodstained
floor and the icy grip of fear that clutched his heart would not allow him to
raise his weapons. While he always held a fear of her awesome strength and
power within him, this transcended that far beyond his ability to understand.
Upon reaching the cold empty storeroom that was now his private prison, he
again wrote all those jumbled thoughts into the book he kept hidden away
within his tunic. As was now usual, his tortured soul could not find the
cause or reason within the fragments to release him. Looking about the room,
it amazed him that such dingy, cluttered, drab quarters did not offend him.
Previously, he would have thought of killing someone over such a insult. Yet
now, it seemed not to matter at all to him.
Laying on the cold stone floor, he tried to rest and put his mind at peace.
After several hours he realized the futility of the attempt. He again arose
trying to figure out what was happening within him, still not finding
answers.
Without thought, he opened a gate to the surface. Stepping through he walked
slowly while trying to sort the turmoil within him. So caught up in his
efforts, he was only dimly aware of his surroundings. The starless night of
the surface held no joy, nor did the thought of killing the weak phindar who
moved about seeking prey. The male was in such despair, he barely noticed the
two rivvin that happened to be on the same path. Yet, they noticed the drow
for what he was instantly, and blades screeched as they were pulled from
scabbards. While the drow male would have merely passed them by without a
thought, the rivvin attacked him. The eerie whisper of steel cutting through
the air, and the moving shadow of the dark, cold blade barely registered in
time. Had he been a rivvil, the blade would have cut him in twain for he
could not have reacted quickly enough. Still a drow is no rivvil. Darting to
his right, Zac felt the chill bite of the blade along his left side and the
warm trickle of blood flowing down his pants as the wound bled. Within an
instant his blades appeared in his hands, their dark glow and familiar feel
registering for once clearly. The silence of the night exploded into the
crash and sparks of adamantine and steel meeting as the ancient dance of
death began once again.
His eyes began to glow faintly at the annoyance the rivvin had caused him.
His blades parried their attempts to finish what they had begun. The two
rivvil males had separated, circling the drow as they attempted to slip past
his blades' defenses as the Drow's blades moved with a life of their own, or
so it seemed.
Zac jerked his head away as steel slipped past, cutting a fine line along his
right cheek, its sting further releasing the rage he held at bay within him.
Dropping low as a sword flew over his head from the left, he swept the legs
from the surprised rivvil. He leapt over the fallen male, his blades
crossing over the throat of his enemy. From the fine cuts, blood welled to
spill to the ground, feeding the rivvils life to it.
The second rivvil screamed in rage as his companions life faded from him, and
pressed after the drow who had taken it. The rivvil was not a bad swordsman,
and the furious blows Zac blocked from him were numbing. Yet the rivvil was
tiring as the battle continued. The drow merely kept him at bay, while
waiting the rivvil out, his side was sticky with blood from the first wound
he sustained, his cheek and neck as well.
When the rivvil's arm began to swing lower as it tired, he finally made his
move. His left sword leapt for the males throat, while the right followed
slightly behind for the lower thigh. The rivvil was not quick enough for both
and knew it. He chose to block the higher blade, protecting his life
foremost, as the lower drove through his thigh. Falling as the leg gave out,
he lost the grip on his sword. The drow stepped forward onto his chest
preventing him from rising. The dark glow of his sword rested against the
rivvil's throat.
Suddenly, the rivvil began to plead for his life, his whimpering whine
piercing through the Drow's facade. In battle, the rivvil was a foe to be
respected, but his shrill shrieking voice now touched the Drow's soul in a
unexpected way. Images formed within the faeruk's mind clearly, a mirror to
what he had now become. His self pity, fear, rage, turmoil displayed by the
mere rivvil lying beneath his boot. The fires of his dark heritage blazed
suddenly within his eyes. He is naut a rivvil to act this way. He is a drow
noble of a warrior house, a faeruk of some strength, the Ilharn of the mzilst
ssin'urn Ilharess in the city. A wave of revulsion swept through his slender
frame.
"Bel'la Dos wael" Zac said softly. Moving in a blur, he thrust the blade
through the rivvils mouth and out the back of his head. Wiping his blades
clean on the bodies, he looted them for useful items. Finding a couple of
healing potions, he checked them for poisons, then drank deeply from one. The
pain he now felt from his wounds slowly faded as the magic closed them. His
pride once again restored, Zacnefear returned to the house.
Once again within the tiny store room, he now viewed it much differently.
His eyes once again burned with their usual unholy light and he began to cast
spells. Crates and junk were teleported to the slaves quarters. Brooms moving
by his whim swept away dirt, followed by mops. Rich carpets appeared taken
from the rooms that held his furniture, followed by his bed, desk and chair.
Smiling for the first time in weeks, the male undressed and climbed into bed.
The nightmares may return, but he could live with them now..........To
Someone I Love
(submitted by: NOR Divine)
In the shadow cast as you were leaving...
In the beauty of the ending day....
There is always something to return to....
something you allow to slip away.
In the empty corners of the evening..
in the vacant beauty of the wind....
there is always something to remember..
something to remember to begin.
I need no shelter,
and I need no guide.
I'll be alone on this long dark ride.
Whatever you might fear....
or whatever you might hide.....
whatever you still carry deep inside......
remember there's something more than this.
In the shadow you cast as you were leaving...
in the beauty of the windless day...
there is always something to beilieve in....
something as I watch you slip away.
When the darkness falls like a curtain,
and the night ahead is long and uncertain....
Dream,
beyond the loss and hope of redemption.
NOR Divine
-New Outriders-
~A Holiday Morning~
(submitted by: Augustus 5)
'Twas a cold Nochtember morn as Augustus awakes in a small primitive cabin
atop the precipice of a snow-covered rocky cliff. The old knight moves
slowly from under the covers and clears the sleep from his eyes.
He pauses a moment to look around and gathere his thoughts.... As is often
true when he wakes up not in his own bed, it takes a moment to recall where
he is...
"Ahh.." he thinks of his home, "Surely by now the halls of the stronghold
are filled with the scent of baking breads and roasted fowl.." He smiles
and moves to the hearth to start his tea...
Augustus finds himself in a region far north of Luskan.. a further travel
than even had been told in the tales he heard as a young squire from Dagron
and Duke Orion.
He'd secreted himself through heavily garrisoned cities - on foot, by wagon,
and by sea - to the brink of a challenge the likes of which he'd never
met... He knew this day he would cross the final ridge and decend into a
valley which housed indeed a mystery most dark and foul... And worst of
all, Augustus knew not what form this evil force might take. He only knew
that he'd dreampt of this place, and was compelled to visit it. And could
only face this challenge alone..
His tea boils and he lifts the steaming cup to blow away the steam... Too
hot to drink, he sets down the cup and instead takes out pen and paper...
~~~~
My Brothers and Sisters..
My thoughts and heart are with you on this day of Thanksgiving! My strength
is in the knowledge that I will soon have dispatched this duty and once again
share the hearth with those so beloved in the halls of Camelot.
By the new moon thou coul'dst expect my return... Until then, know that I am
with you in my heart
For the Good of the Realms...!!!!
Augustus
Your Loving Brother
~~~
He carefully folds the paper and ties it with a short twine, then steps to
the window throwing it open... in the distance he spies a snowy owl sitting
in the icy brances of a barren tree on a far peak. He cups his hands over
his mouth and emits a call which echoes off the snow-covered rocks... "Hwoo~~
Hwoo~~.... hwoo~~ oo~~ oo~"
The snowy owl arches her wings and leaps into flight... soaring through the
chilling air toward Augustus. Then arriving with the beating of wings the
magnificient bird hovers just outside the window as Augustus leans out and
quickly places the note within reach of it's talons.
The owl hovers for another moment bobbing her head knowingly to Augustus and
then turns to soar southward... Growing smaller and smaller until it
disappears, a tiny white speck dropping into the fog of the lowlands....Dream
Assassin
(submitted by: Eagle V1EW)
A tall, shadowy figure hovers over William Eagle-View {Eagle} who is laying
on the ground unconscience.
"Revenge has been demanded, justice shall be done." whispers the figure;
"Thy soul has been given to me ... and thee shall soon DIE!!"
Placing both hands on Eagle's forehead, it's long fingers wrapping around to
the back of his head, the dark figure begins to chant. A pulse of light
forms from it's shoulders and quickly travels down the length of it's arms,
gathering speed and intensity. The light strikes Eagle, forcing his
shoulders and back to arch upwards. The figure removes it's hand and again
hovers over Eagle.
"It has now.....BEGUN!!" the figure says with a loud and echoing laugh ...
then suddenly dissipates, disappearing into the darkness.
Eagle wakes up suddenly, feeling disorientated. He sits up quickly and
discovers he is lying in the middle of a dirt path in Berun. The last thing
he remembers was being in the heat of battle with Trolls. Grabbing his sword
quickly, he stands up, raises his sword holding it with both hands and looks
for his attackers. The air is still and the sun has set over the horizon.
The trolls are nowhere to be seen. Feeling dizzy, Eagle sits down resting
against a tree and places his hands on his face. He tries to recall what had
happened, but his mind is blank. A cold shiver travels down his spine and
his hands begin to shake. What in Tyr's name happened to me; he said to
himself, fighting the fear that was building inside him. Quickly, he
sheathed his sword and whistled for his horse; Pendragon. The horse came out
from behind some trees and began to approach him. As he began to mount his
steed, Pendragon became agitated and, lifting it's hind legs, tossed Eagle
onto the ground. "What has gotten into you!!", Eagle shouted. As he
approached Pendragon again, it nayed in defiance and stood up on it's hind
legs as if something had frightened it. It turned in the opposite direction
of Eagle and galloped away into the night. Suspiciously, Eagle draws his
sword and survey's his surroundings to see what had alarmed his companion so.
Again he felt a shiver as if someone was running a cold blade down the middle
of his back, but he saw no danger. Angrily, Eagle gathers his pack, and
begins walking back to Camelot.
Wanting to quench his thirst after a long trip on foot, Eagle arrives at
Striders. Ordering an ale, he looks about to see if any of his brothers and
sisters of KORT; Knights of the Round Table, were present. He would like to
have discussed what had happened to him with one of the knights and; perhaps,
reveal some answers. Sadly, he did not see anyone. Slowly sipping his ale,
he did notice a hooded figure sitting at a table in the far corner of the
tavern. He was strangely drawn to him. The tavern suddenly became quiet.
Eagle looked around and could see people talking, but all he heard was
silence. The tavern slowly became dark except for the corner where the
stranger sat. The hooded stranger raised his arm, pointing one of his long
fingers at him. An echoing voice was suddenly heard as if it were coming
from all around him;
"Prepare for thy JUDGEMENT!!!!!!!!!"
The stranger raises his other arm, opening his hand so that the palm of the
hand is aimed at Eagle. He pulls his arm back and thrusts it forward
creating a lightning bolt. Instinctively, seeing the bolt of lightening
coming towards him, Eagle leaps over the bar from his stool and lands on the
other side with a crash. Seeing Eagle's abrupt movement, the others in the
tavern became alarmed and drew their weapons; followed by the sound of chairs
and tables falling over. With tensions high, Eagle springs up from behind
the bar prepared to release a lightning bolt of his own, but the hooded
stranger was gone. Strider grabs his shoulder and says angrily; "You, my
young friend, shall pay for all the damage you caused."
"It was self-defense...." Eagle responded brushing himself off, "I was only
reacting to the lightening bolt one of your patrons threw at me."
Strider looks around and then glares back at the young knight of KORT; "I
believe you have had enough ales!!"
Enraged, Eagle began explaining about the hooded stranger in the corner and
how he attacked him ... but no-one saw the stranger, or the bolt of
lightening. Eagle's eyes began to widen in amazement and disbelief, how
could anyone not seen what had just happened? As he reached into his pack
for some gold pieces to pay Strider for the damages, he began to feel dizzy.
The room began to spin followed by a sharp pain in his head as if impaled by
a dagger directly through his temple. Clutching his head with both hands, he
fell to his knees screaming in pain; and then, fell to the ground seeing only
darkness.
As Eagle awakened, he felt a moist, soothing cloth on his forehead and saw
his love, Rayvnwhite, rubbing his cheek gently and smiling. He was in his
quarters at Camelot; lying in his bed. "You gave me such a fright.",
Rayvnwhite whispered concernly; "How are you feeling?" Eagle, still feeling
disoriented, told her with a smile that he has felt better. Rayvnwhite
explained that he was brought to Camelot by the Temple priests, and they told
her what had happened in Striders. As she continued speaking, Eagle tried to
also recall the events and remembered keeling over with pain onto the floor.
He was surrounded in darkness with a gray mist all around him, feeling alone
and helpless. He could see two brilliant, red eyes staring down at him from
above. The eyes were as big as the sun but did not light the darkness that
surrounded him. His next memory was awakening in Camelot.
"My love, get your rest. I shall retire for the evening and speak with thee
in the morning."; Rayvnwhite said with a smile, kissing Eagle on the
forehead. Eagle held Rayvnwhite's hand and smiled; exhausted, he closed his
eyes and fell asleep.
As the sun rose over the horizon, Eagle awakened. He began thinking that
last night's events must have been a terrible nightmare and perhaps, he has
been venturing out on too many quests without resting enough in between them.
He slowly rose from his bed and walked over to the mirrored glass to wash his
face. Seeing his reflection, he noticed a cut on his forehead. He figured
that he must have cut himself on the broken glass when leaping over the bar.
Reaching with both hands, he scoops a handful of water and quickly splashes
his face with it. Looking again at his reflection, he sees the hooded
stranger standing behind him at the rear of his quarters. Again he heard a
voice all around him;
"PREPARE..... for thy judgement!!!!"
Eagle quickly turns around and braces himself for battle ... but he was
alone. Running to his sword, he looked around his quarters to ensure that
the stranger was not present. Sitting on his bed, Eagle began to question
his sanity. Who is this hooded stranger and why is he haunting him??!!!
Eagle entered the courtyard and saw Rayvnwhite sitting with his former
sponsor Windgrey; Knight-Baron of KORT. As he approached them, Rayvnwhite
stood up and hugged Eagle asking him how he felt this morning. Windgrey also
stood up and smiled;
"I understand you had quite an evening my young friend."
"Aye", Eagle responded, "but I am not able to explain, or understand, what
has happened."
Placing his hand on Eagle's shoulder, Windgrey said; "Perhaps we can talk
about this later and shed some light on these events of yours. I shall leave
you two alone but don't forget the practice joust later this morning." Eagle
nodded with a smile as Windgrey left the courtyard. Sitting down with his
love, he began telling Rayvnwhite everything that had happened to him last
night and, about seeing the stranger in his quarters this morning.
"You must inform the knights for I fear you are in danger"; Rayvnwhite said
with concern.
"I cannot."; Eagle responded defiantly, "Not until I discover why I am
seeing these visions of darkness.
I do not want KORT to believe that I am going mad."
Smiling and stroking her cheek with his hand; "Do not worry my love, all will
make sense soon enough."
Leaning over, Eagle kisses Rayvnwhite. As he looked again at his love, his
eyes widened with HORROR. Her face was as white as snow, her long blonde
hair was now jet black and her eyes were a fiery red. She began to speak but
it was not the voice of his love. With an echoing voice, he heard;
"William Eagle-View, murderer and coward!!! Prepare for your demise for
thee have been judged and sentenced. Relinquish your soul.... to ME!!!!!"
Rayvnwhite, seeing the horror on Eagle's face, attempts to place her hand on
him. Eagle pulls away quickly and stands defiantly, drawing his sword and
pointing it towards her. She sees now anger on his face and notices that he
is speaking, but no words are heard. She calls out to him, but he continues
to mouth his words and she watches as he clutches his sword with both hands,
as if preparing for battle.
Eagle sees the stranger approach him. His fear has turned to anger and he
calls on the stranger for battle. The stranger laughs, and extends his arm
towards him. Eagle feels a tightening grip around his throat, but the
stranger is not near him. Gasping for air, he clutches his throat with one
hand and goes down on one knee, still pointing his sword towards the
stranger. As he feels himself lose consciousness, he thinks of his love and
KORT.
"Prepare your soul for eternal damnation!!!!!"; the stranger growled.
Rayvnwhite, seeing Eagle on one knee clutching his throat, runs towards him.
As she approaches him, a brilliant globe of light surrounds him, and
suddenly, a flash erupts that knocks her six feet backwards to the ground.
As she gets up, she sees that Eagle is gone. She again runs to the spot
where Eagle was, but only sees his sword on the ground.
Kneeling, she picks up his sword with both hands and looks up at the heaven's
... screaming, "EAGLE!!!!!!!!!!"
To be continued.........................Conversations
(submitted by: Veridienne)
Veridienne was waiting for Quanntuum. She went to the center of town, sure
he would appear there shortly, and almost as certain that he would do her
bidding. She adored the way he would shuffle up, keeping his head down,
avoiding her eyes. She spoke briefly to Targoth, with whom she was
acquainted, as another one of them, Morgan, stood by, silently, watching her
with an amused smile on his face. It was after Quan had arrived, and she was
arguing with Gothpunker over money that this Morgan, who she had never even
met before, picked her up and kissed her, and then nibbled on her ear. She
knew she should say something... but at the moment she was too shocked to
even speak, so she gave him a cold, indignant stare before she left, hoping
that would be enough to convey her meaning.
She told Lazerus, wondering what he would say about it. As she was speaking,
she began to cry. "It's not my fault! Why did he do it! I didn't even give
him the slightest encouragement!"
Strangely, he reached over and took her face in his hands, looking in her
eyes. "He didn't."
"What? Yes he did, everyone saw, you can ask them!"
He laughed, shaking his head. "A mass hallucination."
"How is that possible?"
Instead of answering, he started walking again, so she hurried to catch up
with him. She noticed that he was staring at her now and again. Finally,
when they had stopped moving, she stared back at him, raising her eyebrow
questioningly.
"You're so beautiful."
"Please stop it," she said, irritation in her voice.
"I can look can't I? Where is it written that I can't look at you?"
She stopped, confused. "Nowhere.... I suppose there's no harm in looking...
but you had better not touch me again. Please never do it."
He nodded and they continued to travel. She examined him, surprised he had
agreed so easily, and then cursed her current state. Having lost all her
magical abilities, it was easier to travel with company, and when he had
offered to come with her, she had been unable to refuse. Now she was
thinking that it would have been better not to do so.
It was a strange day. She couldn't tell what he was doing, but Lazerus
seemed to be phasing between planes. It happened more and more frequently
the longer they travelled, so that soon she was finding herself alone almost
all of the time. Finally he came to her, strangely almost shadowy, cursing
under his breath, and said that if he disappeared again, she could not expect
him to return that evening. Then he suddenly drew her close to him and gave
her a long passionate kiss.
She pulled back, furious. "You said you wouldn't touch me!"
He frowned, still running his hand through her hair. "Please don't be angry.
I forgot."
She looked at him, stunned. "You forgot? How could you forget?"
"You're just so lovely... I find you irresistable."
She stared at him, uncertain what to say, and flew as far away as she could
get.
It was too horrible, it seemed now that every time she saw Wraith, she was
haunted by the thoughts of what he would do to her when he got around to
punishing her for her recent transgressions. She listened to him as he spoke
harsh words to Arawn, and as Arawn made feeble excuses for his untoward
behavior. She moved to the corner, watching them, barely able to speak in
her terror for what Wraith was going to do to her when he was finished...
When she felt the touch of Darcphaze in her mind it came to her. Who better
to help than the high priestess? So she sent the call, and Darc was there
very soon. She seemed to soothe Wraith's feelings somewhat, and soon left
with Arawn, saying she had a matter to discuss with him. She looked at Veri,
her eyes penetrating, as she turned to leave.
"Come see me in the temple later, child."
Veri nodded slowly. "Of course."
She stayed there with Wraith for awhile longer.
Her hunger had been raging within her ever since she gave up her powers to
study again, and the presence of mortals was difficult to resist. There was
a very strange woman in the inn. Veri caught her name at some point...
Kyrasha. She had been listening attentively to their conversation, and
making snide remarks, seemingly laughing at Veri. Once things quited down,
Veri smelled something... blood! It smelled so very sweet. She looked over
to find the source of the smell, and discovered that Kyrasha was carving up
her own arm, and drawing designs with the blood on the bar! Veri stared,
transfixed, wanting some so very badly, until Randym approached her and
leaned over to whisper in her ear.
She caught a glimpse of Wraith's angry face as he watched Randym
approaching... and then heard his words, softly spoken in her ear. "Do *not*
drink her blood. She is a Kith, and their blood will make you very ill."
She nodded, and then looked back at Kyrasha. "Why is she doing that! I will
not be able to resist much longer," she whispered to him. "I am so very
hungry."
"If you cannot resist, then you must leave," Randym said firmly, returning to
his table.
She looked back at Wraith. "Can we leave, love?"
He pulled her outside, and stopped out in the night air, cuddling her to him.
She reached up and kissed him... sometimes it seemed as if she could stay an
eternity in his arms....
Suddenly Darc was with them again. They spoke briefly of her conversation
with Arawn about the Camarilla. Veri told her about what Morgan had done,
and what Lazerus had done, and shook her head. "I don't know what to do, I'm
not encouraging them, I don't know why they keep doing this to me."
"What do you do?"
"Why, I push them away, I slap them, I ask them to stop, of course. I tell
them that I am married, that I don't wish it, and that I will be punished if
they continue."
"Perhaps thy find the idea of your being punished intriguing," Wraith
interjected.
"I... I don't know. The mortals are not a problem, my kiss is fatal to
them..."
Darcphaze drew herself up, staring at Veri. "You must awaken, child. Before
your love, before anything else, you are a knight of Myrkul, and you should
start behaving like one." Her eyes glowed for a moment. "No one should
touch you without your permission. No one."
"But how can I get them to stop?"
"If they will not listen to your requests, you must speak to them of other
things. Speak of Myrkul's glory, and his imminent return, speak of your
service to him." She turned to look at Wraith. "She doesn't hate?"
Wraith shrugged with amusement.
"I hate... mortals." Veri thought of them, the life pulsing in their veins,
the flesh still warm on their bodies, and felt it, this emotion which almost
consumed her at times.
"These are not mortals we speak of."
Veri snarled suddenly, remembering. "And I hate Terror."
Darc shook her head. "I see the attraction... the coldness... they are much
like us in some ways. But you must learn hate. Perhaps Despair can teach
you that." She stopped, examining Veri again, and then looked at Wraith.
"She needs something to ... occupy herself with i think. Perhaps you
shouldn't have taken her so young."
"I like her young," Wraith grinned, squeezing Veri close again.
"She needs to come to touch with her womanhood though." She shook her head.
"Men! They never understand these things!"
"She wants a baby," Wraith said.
"A baby?" Darc examined them. "It would be difficult, I think, but perhaps
it could be arranged."
She wondered how she could have been so foolish as to go speak with Lazerus
again, because once again, he was pulling her towards him, leaning
forward....
She jumped back. "You musn't touch me."
He reached out, touching her again, feeling her arm.
She glared. "You're insulting our religion."
"Religion?" he asked lightly, almost mockingly.
She stared at him and turned into a shadowy form. "Yes," she whispered. "I
have a god, and I have made vows of marriage before him."
He stepped closer to her and gently reached out to touch her cheek, but his
hand passed through. She concentrated, trying to summon the hatred Darc had
spoken of, and she felt her eyes grow cold, and turn black, instead of their
usual warm green.
"Hmmm...." he paused there, his hand resting just by her cheek. "Well, I can
see my attentions are not wanted here."
"I have tried and tried to tell you. You should respect my vows."
"Hmmm... yes I should." He cocked his head, looking at her. "But I don't
want to. I find you... most... invigorating."
She glared at him again. "I shouldn't do this," she said, silently cursing
her softness, "but I'm going to warn you."
He considered her. "Oh?"
"Yes. You should discontinue your attentions to me... and to my sisters..."
"Oh... Darc and Angie?"
She nodded.
He stopped and looked away and then back at her. "I was told that all I have
to do is convert and ask that Murkey guy to give you to me. And if he does,
you would be mine." chuckle.
"Myrk-ul," she said, slowly but firmly. And then shook her head. "Who told
you that?"
"Oh... a very important... and wise woman." He paused. "One of your
sisters."
She stared at him in shock. "She said you could have me?"
"Well, she was talking about herself. But it should work for you as well."
"Why is that?"
"Because you are both married, and both children of Myrkul."
"I don't see how she could have said that.... I don't believe you!" she
turned, stamped her foot, and left the room.
Veridienne
Eternal Sufferer
Kiss of Death
Mistress of the Orb(submitted by: HG Kerowyn)
The Harper's Guild of Neverwinter
(Harper Chant)
"We are the Harpers. We are the Lord Protectors of
the Realms.
Fools, all - but the Gods look down and smile
glory upon us.
Weep for us, watch for us, and hope in
us.
We shall not fail thee."
(Composed by Ailadrea Stars-in-mist, Bard of Neverwinter, Year of the
Buckler)
Thus begins the opening text of yore to define "Those Who Harp."
Greetings' good citizens of Neverwinter. I am Kerowyn Longbow, recently
arrived from Twilight Hall in Berdusk and now of the Harper's Guild of
Neverwinter. Ranger by blood and teaching, Cleric/Mage by necessity.
There are rumors riding on the wind of our untimely demise and disappearance
from these Realms. Allow me to insure thee that these rumors, which we find
most humorous, are without substance and were undoubtedly spawned and
nurtured by those who fear the forces of Good. The Harpers are very much
alive and continue to "mettle" in the path of evil and tyranny wherever we
find it in Neverwinter.
Herein lies certain facts that every good citizen of the Realms should know .
. .
It is written in the tomes of Elminster the Sage that a true Harper is
one of a company of those with similar interests - men, women, elves, and
half elves made up mostly of bards and rangers. Alas, here in Neverwinter -
due to the strange influence and attraction to Art (magic) in this region of
the Realms - many of us have been forced to put aside our woodland skills and
study the ways of the priesthood. As disdainful as it is to us, the sword
and flail are useless against evil that infests these Realms. Only the
mastery of the Art seems effective to maintain an equal footing in combat.
We have no ranks, only varying degrees of personal influence. However,
in order to appease Lord Nasher and the Phlan Alliance Council of Lords, our
brethren have appointed one Harper to bear the trivial title of Guild Master
to conduct business in the Realms. In truth, we are led by no one person,
but instead guided by a council of seven Harper elders whose duties are to
preserve the way of "Those Who Harp."
Harpers work against warfare, slavery, and wanton destruction of the
plants and creatures of this land. We oppose those who would build empires
by the sword or spilled blood, or who would work Art heedless of the
consequences. We guard good folk against these, when we can. We also guard
books and their lore, precious instruments and their music, and Art and its
good works. All these things serve hands and hearts yet unborn, those who
will come after us.
The Harpers have a long and glorious history of serving the good people
of Faerun. Many Harpers have shed their blood in the process and will, no
doubt, do so again in the future. Of this we have no fear. Whether a guild
of two or two hundred, we will continue to be an active force to be reckoned
with in these Realms, resting only when the last evil carcass lies rotting to
feed the scavengers and sacred trees in our revered Neverwinter Wood.
"We are the Harpers ... watch for us ... we will not fail thee."
HG Kerowyn
The Harper's Guild
(submitted by: OMM Wynd)
There is wonderful news in the Realms....
The beautiful OMM Wynd has consented to marry the Commander of the White
Lance, OMM Mentor.
The date has not been set, but details will follow.....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.
<><><><><>
<><><><><>
MONTHLY CONTEST!!
Win Pearls for your Guild!
Participate in the monthly News of the Realms "Newsworthy" contest. Each
month, 4 pearls will be awarded to the account of the Guild with the most
"newsworthy" articles for that month! We're looking for works of art,
articles of fine literature, helpful hints of extraordinary brilliance,
poetic works which stir the soul, etc. The key word here is "newsworthy"...
only articles with substance will be counted in the contest!
To participate you need to:
- Indicate with your submission the name of your SANCTIONED guild. Only
sanctioned Guilds are presently eligible to receive pearls for a Guild pearl
account.
- Write something!