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The thunder rumbled in the distance as the robed stranger made their
way through the village. When the lightning flashed in the sky it could be
seen that the stranger had the cowl of their robe pulled up over to cover
their face, but the robe was not enough to disguise that the robed figure
was a woman.
Winding her way through the seemingly deserted village to the town hall
the woman did not slacken her pace even when the rain started to fall.
Arriving at the doors of the hall, she hesitated for only a moment. Long
enough to lower her cowl and enter.
Sitting at the desk was the Mayor of the village, Astavon Bearin,
busily at work reading several reports. When the door opened and his candle
flame flickered he looked up in annoyance at the disturbance, only to see
the not quite beatiful features of Mist Shadow the Shaman Priestess.
Momentarily taken aback by her presence, he was not ready when she stormed
over to the desk and placed her fists on it in a threatening manner.
"Mayor Bearin, I come to you with matters of great importance. I have
dreamed. In this dream a future most foul awaits the peoples of the world.
Aragoth stirs in his slumber and already touches the world. My dream
foretold of his reawakening soon. We must contact the other peoples and
prepare for his coming. You must gather the elders and readyour people. They
must embrace their gloried warrior past and begin making weapons and
training for the arrival of Aragoth's legions."
Astavon Bearin looked as if he had been punched. His face drained of
color and he seemed to sway in his seat. "Mistress Mist Shadow, I am not up
to the tasks you place before me. I am no warrior leader to take our people
against Aragoth and his legions. Perhaps I should step down and one of our
Hunters take my place. They know more about fighting than anyone else in the
village. Or perhaps you, with your knowledge of magic should lead us."
Mist Shadow looked down at the seated Mayor "You know very well that
the elders will not listen to me or any man too young to wear the runes on
his skin. And you well know that none of the hunters wear the runes yet.
Donnal Vigbane the eldest hunter still has years to go before he is allowed
to tatoo his first rune and join the ranks of the elders."
Astavon nodded agreement as Mist Shadow spoke, but held up a hand to
forstall her continuing "It is true what you say about the elders, but they
are wise enough to know that in matters of great importance like this that
old methods must be discarded. I will go to them and we shall discuss this."
As he started to rise Mist Shadow moved around the desk and placed her
hand on his shoulder forcing him to sit again. "Now you listen to me Mayor.
You are correct that this is a time of great trials. And it is at this time
that there must be no upheaval if our peoples are to stand a chance. You
must lead us! I will be available to assist you, as I am sure, will Donnal.
We will help you where your skills lack, but you will lead us to victory
over Aragoth, or we will all die trying."
Nodding again, but this time with resignation to the inevitable,
Astavon removed Mist Shadow's hand from his shoulder and stood up. "If that
is how it must be, then there is no time to waste. I will go to the council
of elders now and tell them how things stand. We will begin preparations to
defeat Aragoth immediately."
Mist Shadow smiled as the mayor left his office to get the elders
together, and then frowned thinking about the cost this war would have on
her people.
Contact Mist Shadow at myranderson@hotmail.com
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Contact Yorkik at leostubbs@hotmail.com
... and so it has begun. The race for domination, over a world gone mad, we dwarves watch and wait to see who will emerge worthy of out attention. Arragoth has been gone for many a millenia, but it seems that he is prepared to make his assault on this world that we live in. we toil morning, noon, and night, but to no avail, not a single mithril was found in this cursed island. All we have to show for out hard work is more wood and food than we have use for. Is this to be our cursed final resting place? We dwarves to not wish to live out our lives fishing and cultivating crops... we would rather mine until we reach the otherside of this world in search of that one true ore, the magical mithril.
Who are these other races that wish to carve their place in this lands? We do not know of their location, nor of their well-being, but one thing is certain. We dwarves are friendly to those who show courage and initiative... so why haven't they contacted us yet? Out of the many great wizards out there, only one (.... yes, ONE) has managed to contact us with words of peace. This is not how we would like it to be, all alone in this dark, dark land.
However, if no one is willing to parlay with us dwarves, then be warned, our armies spread forth into the lands, and we are no longer restricted to our own island. Our neighbours (no doubt we will have some) will know of us... either our wrath, or our loyalty. We besiege them to write if they want the latter, just don't complain when we fight for the lands that is rightfully ours. Expect no mercy when none is given.
Of the two immediate neighbours, we believe the Halflings are the ones that we have most things in common with... for we short people should band together against all others. Do not judge us by our stature (or lack of), but do so at your peril. The Minotaurs are a quiet bunch. What would they be doing at a time like this, we wonder... surely they aren't just grazing the fields, waiting for Arragoth's forces to take over?
Then there are the rest, the Amazons, the Elves, Lizardmen, Gnomes, to mention but a few? Where are their missives? Don't tell us dwarves that everything is all peaceful with nothing much happening? Surely they remember the great stories told about the fierce warriors of their clans banding together to drive the forces of Arragoth back to hell whence he came?
We may sound like a fierce race, but all we want is peace. We are tilling to set up talks of alliances and trade, only if these talks are returned. So please, send your diplomatic missions, for we will be waiting for them, and rest assured, they will be treated with the most respect and hospitality.
We settled on this cursed place only for one reason. That is to face Arragoth in the ultimate battle. We want all our allies to be beside us, both physically and spiritually.
Alright, the time for ranting is now over. Time for action, for we dwarves will not sit here idly and watch the world suffer the fate that is Arragoth. For all those races that wish to impede us on our mission, we will pray for your souls as we send you to your maker. Here us dwarves roar, for we are now at WAR.
May Odin watch your every move and guide you all to victory,
S Brikov.
Camp Jollymount.
Contact Stoal Brikov at alexdeal@excite.com
Three years hence on this very day, I, the notorious wizard Morglin, marched upon the underworld community I now call Nightscar. The insignificant number of grunt orcs dwelling here at that time caused little damage or distraction to my forces. These past three years I have spent much of my time researching the histories and tales of these disgusting, rank peons. To my dismay, I fear that sometime in the next two decades a catastrophic event may occur which could enslave the entire earth! My seers and soothsayers beg me to prepare for the worst, to use my military might and magic to save us all from annihilation. Alas, my spies report that none above or below are capable of coming to my aid. Either that, or my spies are most dull-witted and useless and must be eliminated. Poor bastards. For now, I will not jump to any immediate conclusions and insist that more spies be summoned to my aid. It is now time for my daily meditation, and afterwards I will reach with my astral senses up to the surface to search for possible allies. Winter, 391 AR
Contact Morglin at ithiimir@aol.com
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