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Contact Borgo at adaml@lineone.net
The Mayor Paxina walked into the large catacombs of the castle. Here a small pool bubbled out of the earth and the wizard was now increasinginly to be found here. Often he had come upon the shrouded figure standing here staring into the stillness of the surface of the pool. What he saw there the mayor never understood, all he noticed was the faint glimmer of light from the sparse torches shimmering as it played its flickering dance upon the surface. Hearing the scuffling of little feet upon the earth, the robed figured turned his gaze upon the rotund personage of the mayor. "Ah Mayor, more reports?" "I have those as usual M'Lord but I have come to speak to you upon a different matter." "I see it written plain upon your eyes, and the earth whispers it to me here in the bowels of the earth. It's about me is it not?" "Yes m'lord! I personally believe in you, we all do after all that you have demonstrated, but lord I am curious and so are the others of why you remain forever shrouded, never showing us your skin." The robed figure chuckled. "They have taken to calling me the The Shrouded Oracle and in that name I find their hopes and wariness. It is a fitting name, and for them I shall take it up as a name and a calling. I shall be their Shrouded Oracle." "Mayor, I must stand in the eye of mystery and go let you work my deeds for a purpose. Already powers have begun to stir upon the world and forces forged, my powers of vision blur as the future is fogged by a myriad of powers locked in struggle to forge a indeterminate future. Rest at ease knowing that there is a reason. For now it serves it's purpose well, raising hope in our ranks and kindling fear in those who seek to prey upon us. Let it lie mayor, the time for unveiling is not yet upon us."
Contact The Shrouded Oracle at hidayath_ali@hotmail.com
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Contact Anikel at sentinel6@netzero.net
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Contact Spasmoid at abuecher@pacbell.net
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Contact Anarchy JoE at milennium@email.ro
The Amazons.
A race famous throughout time for the strength of their muscles rather than their brains.
Surely now it is time for one to come forward who, with his intuitive understanding of the Arcane Arts and Higher Powers, combined with the strength of ten and a charisma you could break bricks on, could lead his people to supremacy.
Or not . . .
Unfortunately, reality bears little relation to fantasy, or else what would be the point of fantasy!? So, following the blackest day in the history of the Amazons, when the entire Council of Twelve perished in, quite literally, gut-wrenching agony following the spectacular failure of their latest attempt to force the Denizens of the Dark to reveal the secrets of the future, it has fallen to Grawth to take charge.
Grawth; leader only through being the least stupid of those left behind. A man whose grasp of the Ways of Wizardry would best be described as ‘pitiful’, and only then by his kindest teachers. A man with no experience of battle command or economic mastery. It is now his duty to lead his beautiful (but dumb) people into the future!
Surely there is no hope for him.
Is there?
Only time will tell . . .
Contact Grawth at grawth@hotmail.com
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Contact Ramises at tueb@odense.kollegienet.dk
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Contact IZAC at adndmaster@themail.com
Jimuk's leathers sandals slapped against the stone of the tower's steps as he rushed upwards towards the top. With heavy breaths, he finally reached the top of the palace tower that oversaw the desert city of Nazair and knocked on the heavy wooden door. "Paracelsus?" "Enter", came the reply, almost before he had knocked. The wizard stood between several tables, one stacked with old manuscripts, one covered with bottles and vials of odd-coloreds liquids and gels. The mage's attention was riveted upon the last table, which was completely empty save a large crystal pyramid with a swirling image within. The image was of an approaching sandstorm - exactly what Jimuk had come to report. Sandstorms were common enough but this one filled the entire horizon, blotting out the sun as it swept nearer to the city. However, the strangest thing about the storm, the thing that had sent Jimuk sprinting towards the wizard's slim spire was its color. The sand blowing towards them like a wave was a deep, rich crimson ? exactly the color of blood as it dries. He had never seen sand this color before. "How can this be?", asked Jimuk. "It is the first of the signs" "You mean?" "Yes...Arragoth stirs"
Contact Paracelsus at JMPlummer@aol.com
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Contact Dactyl at francisco.f@eudoramail.com
Morbious Mac watched the spreading pool of his mentor's blood slowly seep into the ground. This was a moment to savor. Too long has his Dwarven clan been denied their heritage by cowardly leaders. Too long have his people been suffering in this forsaken swamp. Now was the time to reclaim what was lost! Now is the time before Arragoth awakes. Had he waited too long before taking over? Time will tell that tale. But for now a small victory with little time to enjoy. Morbious must now make plans and marshall his forces. Morbious can sense other wizards also gathering power. Some will become allies some will become enemies. Regardless...It is now up to Morbious to fulfill his destiny and lead the Hill Dwarves!
Contact Morbious Mac at mccool@marshallnet.com
Me be Jhargus! High-Great-Most-Ultimate-Wizard of Nightscar. Umm ... actually ONLY Wizard of Nightscar. Others had accident. Orc-King-of-All-He-Ever-Seen Burghgrod Hugeaxe very strong King. Not smart King. Very stupid King really. But strong King. Shamans say Arragoth the Pyromanic God soon wake. Burghgrod say : "Arragoth weakling. Jhargus be Wizard. Jhargus go chop Arragoth. King command!" Jhargus try tell Burghgrod : "Arragoth Pyromanic GOD! Arragoth BIG! Arragoth NASTY!" Burghgrod insist. Jhargus sigh. Burghgrod have accident. Now Jhargus Orc-King-of-All-He-Ever-Seen. And High-Great- Most-Ultimate-Wizard of Nightscar. Besides having 8 wives (five of them with very sharp voices) and 28 orclings. And Arragoth, God With Tendencies To Make Things Go 'Foof!', soon awake. Jhargus feeling headache. So Jhargus hold speech to Orcs : "We go out. See other places. Meet nice people. Conquer the places. Punch nice people. Ask not-so-nice-people help make Arragoth take dirtnap. Otherwise better make real big waterbowls and practice walking on hot coals." Orcs say : "Huh?" Jhargus say (veeery slowly) : "Do. As. Jhargus. Say. Or. Have. Accident." Orcs say : "OK, boss!" Jhargus strong! Jhargus BAD! Jhargus not very fireproof. Not-so-nice-people talk to Jhargus about making Arragoth squeal like pig. Nice people and gurlish treehuggers with pointy ears need not apply.
Contact Jhargus at Jonas.Bolander@era.ericsson.se
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