PLAYER 2 - Kailess Eldreth

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Kailess Eldreth at rdhosler@mail.fwi.com

PLAYER 3 - Sir Alfred Packer

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Sir Alfred Packer at michael.conkey@dfas.mil

PLAYER 4 - Draconis

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Draconis at djdracon@nvbell.net

PLAYER 5 - Mister Fuzzy

Contact Mister Fuzzy at hizz13@tm.net.my

PLAYER 6 - Cardinal Teplin

"I come up here to speak today, wishing I could bring better news.  But there is
little good cheer to speak of.  We face a disaster unprecedented in the history
of our kind.  There is a war, a great war, coming to this land..."

The crowd began to shift and fidget.  The gatherings of the Moot, the great
Halfing meeting house where matters of import were decided, was rarely so busy.
But the crowds had been promised a discussion of something important.  Wars came
and wars went,and few really cared.  Halflins were not by nature a military
people.  A really big war simply meant that they would hear more about it.  Dull
dull dull.

"... an impact upon trade that concerns every one of us here.  For we can not
afford to be complacent about the economic viability of..."

To give him his due, Elder Mathlis was generally quite a good speaker.  He was
known to get really worked up things, to wave his hands in the air, and roar
until his tiny round face went all wrinkly and red like a Scarsdale potato.  But
there seemed less chance of that here.  He had calmed greatly of late.  No
longer the savage orator that the bored could jibe and heckle on an otherwise
dull afternoon.  Maybe his time as leader was coming to an end.  Hey ho.

"... the effect of conflict on our trading partners mean that the prices of some
commodities may exceed the annual town budget for any given year.  Allowing for
the effects of inflationary market practices on a situation of turbulent credit,
we may be forced to scale back..."

The crowd were definitely bored now.  If it weren't for the steady and
relentless rain that poured down from a steel grey sky, many would have left
long since.  The promised 'matter of import' had yet to materilise, and this
long discourse was wearing thin.

"... reduced food supplies.  It is thus my recommendation that the practice of
afternoon tea be banned for the foreseable future."

In the cavernous silence that followed, a single elderly matron let her
stitching fall to ground. A single pin, falling lose from the fabric, tinkled to
the stone floor and was still.

Mathlis blinked at the sudden and unexpected feeling of having everyone's full
and undivided attention.  It was a most disagreeable sensation.  "Ahem.  It
simply isn't feasbile, with the reduced trade caused by the war, to go one
having five meals a day.  We have to get rid of one.  Its as simple as that."

A hesitant hand rose from the stunned ranks.

"Yes Teplin?"

"So you're serious then.  No more high tea?"

"Oh, yes.  Of course if the war carries on too long, we may have to cut out
elveneses as well...  I know its a tough prospect, but that's the price we pay
for keeping out of the war."  He paused, so caught up in his oration that he
didn't bother to look down at the reaction of the crowd.  "Besides," he said,
smiling broadly.  Its only a meal or two isn't it?  Its not like its something
really important."

Witnesses latter insisted that the sound could be heard from as a far away as
Scarpike Mill.  It went on for quite some time.  The town hall would have to
rebuilt, of course, and they eventually decided to bury Mathlis with full
honours, once they could find all the peices.

Meanwhile, Revolutionary Leader Comrade Teplin was chosen as the leader to bring
the Halfling nation fully into the conflict.  No matter how many nations must
fall, or what strange powers must be brought to bear, the full fives meals were
sacrosanct.  Truth honour and justice were all given their fair play, but no
true Halfing could stand by to watch civilisation fall.  High Tea forever,
though the heavens fall.

Contact Cardinal Teplin at hanbury.hampden-turner@amsinc.com

PLAYER 7 - Gorbaal

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Gorbaal at alain_hofmann@hotmail.com

PLAYER 8 - Mestoph

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Mestoph at mabm@telia.com

PLAYER 9 - Gorm

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Gorm at woof13@netzero.net

PLAYER 10 - Baron Shadowrunner

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Baron Shadowrunner at mccool@marshallnet.com

PLAYER 11 - Emerald Wizard

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Emerald Wizard at timdvoskin@infonet.by

PLAYER 12 - Wandor

For a moment the image fades. A white fog appears between the mage's outstrectched arms and gathers into a radiating ball. As the image is restored again, you notice the sweat on Wandor's forehead. His trembling arms show his strain to maintain the magical connection.

" Only recently I came to Alustria which is not the world of my origin. A Shaman of the Plainsmen contacted me and asked for aid in defending his people. I was impressed by his ability to reach me, since I never heard of his world before, and fascinated by the country he decribed. Well, at my arrival this place looked not as great as expected. The Shaman died after overstressing his powers, and his people has been decimated in the war against Caizarius. Nevertheless, I have promised to help them survive. Maybe this means d efeating Caizarius, maybe this means serving him. Time will tell."

" Alustria is a world full of magical power and contains a wealth of gems. I was not surprised to learn that other wizards also chose this place. There is room enough for more than one, but certainly not for all of them. If you agree, perhaps we could also agree on the question who should remain and whom we will ask to leave. An alliance focusing our powers could change the face of this world."

The glowing ball wavering between the wizard's gnarled hands turns to a dark red colour, and lightning flashes between the distant stars. "I must leave now." The old man looks worriedly around. "You may send a messenger to Reert. The streets are safe for a few more days, but soon there will be war." In an instant his image is gone, and the stars fade. You open your eyes and recognize the familiar sight of your study chamber.

Contact Wandor at olaf@hesebeck.de

PLAYER 13 - Fatalber

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Fatalber at noplayer@wow.pbemgame.com

PLAYER 14 - Hazaar

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Hazaar at jhenson@calpoly.edu

PLAYER 15 - Aeneas

 
 

  

    
THE BATTLE
  
  

    


The battle rages back and forth. Dead human and non-human bodies are all
over the
field and the battlements. The central keep of the castle watches the
combat as
if it had no interest in it, an estrange blue glow completely surrounds
it. In
fact it is where the fate of this battle is being arranged. Inside
several
wizards are trying to counteract the spells cast to render the walls
useless.
The fighting is bloody. Crimson rivers of blood flood the castle moat
together with
limbs, corpses or any other body part coming from living beings.
This was no normal fight it was the very fight for survival.
 



The
defenders knew they were defeated a long time ago, they were just buying
their
supreme Leader and Wizard the time to escape. Another plane of existence
awaited
him. The spell needed to transport his body to another plane was costly
and
needed thorough preparations, thus the desperate fight to win a couple
of
minutes. And time went now very slow.



The
wizard commanding the attacking armies knew as well what was happening,
and in
his haste to storm the castle threw his troops away as little pieces of
litter.
They were nothing compared to what could be won if “he” was
captured.



And
now the final throw, now the final push was about to be cast.



Yes!
Or No! That cry was in everyone’s mouth. Attackers and Defenders alike
each
mouthing the word soundlessly or shouting with all the strength they had
in
their lounges.



The
warlock, once the magic wall was
broken teleported himself inside the keep in time to see the body of his
most
dangerous enemy disappearing from sight to another plane. There was no
time to
loose and disappoint could be seen in his face. Gods, it was not
fair! 
They had left another of his enemies get away but not before a
little
present was delivered. The Warlock laughed, yes he had got away but not
completely alone as he would soon discover.
    
  

 
 



 
 

  

    
THE
TALE OF THE TRIBE
  
  

    

The
blizzard storm came fast and destroyed the tribe fort “ruthlessly” and
thoroughly as an enemy tribe could. It was not normal blizzard. Year
after year
they had lived in the icelands and survived the storms the god chose to
send
them. This one did not follow the god rules. It had come with no warning
and it
had left as suddenly as it had come. Just several minutes it had raged,
but they
had been enough. They were just wondering what had happened and were not
paying
attention where they should. Just behind them a slowly walking figure
was
approaching them.



The
tribe as a whole turned around when the slightest sound of the figure
walking
reached them. They looked at the apparition as they would look at a
ghost. No
one could have survived the storm and the figure came just from where
the
blizzard had come.



The
man was dressed fittingly for a ghost. Estrange phosphorescent clothing
enveloped him. He was slim and not powerfully built. A blond beard
appeared
beneath the hat and hazel eyes looked at them as harpoons fly straight
to the
enemy heart. It was not a very powerful figure but the eyes, his look
and the
supernatural appearance made them think twice before attacking him. That
was the
normal curse of life in the icelands. You attacked anyone outside your
tribe.
When their minds were focusing on this and the attack was imminent, then
and
only then he deemed necessary to speak, and when he spoke……. 
 


    
  

 
 




  

    
AENEAS
TALE
       


  
  

    

Dammed
to the pits of hell the warlock and his cunning! This was no way to
treat a
fellow wizard! Three weeks, three whole weeks with this blizzard around
him and
he could not stop the spell. He had spent all his magic energy heating
himself
and now it was fading away. No more energy to tap from. He needed to
find
someone fast, but the endless plain of ice had no habitants so far.
Night after
night and day after day he had walked sure to find a city, town or
village and
he found none. Had he not been a powerful wizard he would be dead by
now. Had he
been so powerful he would have transported himself to a town and not
here. Still
the plane teleporting spell always ended where people in need of
leadership were.
Something had gone awfully wrong here. He could not leave these lands
without
having a try, it would mean the worse defeat in his long life. Being
defeated by
a fellow wizard was bad, but being defeated before he had the chance to
develop
his powers was disaster!



Was
that a voice, yes! People at last! Now this dammed blizzard spell will
be over.
He had studied it to put an end to his working but could not. His study
of the
spell just yielded that as soon as another eyesight different from his
touched
the blizzard it would fade away.



He
did not expect the violent blizzard reaction. It was as it had life of
its own,
and that could be very well true. The destruction it brought to who
would soon
be his proper subjects was shocking. There was a lot of work to be done
here and
now there was more of it.



He
walked toward whom would be their subjects and then they turned around.
Their
looks were of amazement and hate, but soon they would be of love…….    

 


    
  


  
 


 




 



  

    
A WORD FROM
AENEAS 
       



    
  


  

    

      

    
    

      
Yes,
      yes colleagues that is the story of my coming to this world. I am
now the
      leader of one of the two most powerful nations at the Island of
Isarna. I
      greet you now that I have the power to do it and wish you fare
better in
      this world than I did in the last one. I will be glad to receive
you
      missives of friendship or trade agreements, not so glad if you
send war
      declarations. In fact I am expecting them from this very minute, I
mean
      the friendship missives of course. I will receive all messages
good or bad
      at this place  

 jmaqua@jazzfree.com.
Do not hesitate to contact me, I will study all offers fairly and will
answer as
they deserve. In the meanwhile I will study what to do regarding
Cazarius and
his minions. I am still not sure about the right course. Ohhh! I always
forget,
my name is Aeneas and all races will come to fear and respect it, I
hope.

      

    
  

 

Contact Aeneas at jmaqua@wanadoo.es

PLAYER 16 - Jegron

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Jegron at jegron@hotmail.com

PLAYER 17 - Sithek uth Mater

                           TWILIGHT OF THE ELVES
                               INTRODUCTION

     In a time long past...a millennium ago....before the time of
men.....before any of the lesser humanoid races walked the lands....
reflected a lone figure, atop a windswept cliff, staring at the boundless
seas....the Elves dominated Alustria, their culture, their passions,
powers, magics...equalled in power only by the Kingdoms of the Ancient
Dragons.  Alustria herself was one...peace and tranquility dominated those
far away times.  The lands stretched as one, forever-joined in one great
massive continent, not the fractured lands floating amidst the rolling
seas, as today.  It seemed that everything reflected the current Age...the
dragons were gone, missing for a millennia or more.  The Elves were a
splintered peoples, isolating themselves from one another, as well as the
rest of the world.  An attempt to stem the tide of Fate which threatened
every day to sweep them into the past, sharing the Dragons' Doom.  A day
didn't go by that reports were not received of elves, sometimes whole
tribes, gone missing, disappeared into mists, never seen again.

     Dragon's Doom, Sithek uth Mater mused.  Not aptly named.  Better it
were called, 'The doom of Elves and Dragons,' for we share the same end.
We were touched by the corruption differently, less 'dramatically'.  The
corruption kills us slower, nothing else.  We shared in the folly, but
attempt to disassociate from it by ignoring our part, ignoring our fate.
As if, the corruption of the Weave could be changed, ignored, by simply
calling that one act, at both out races' pinnacle of arrogance, the
'Dragons' Doom.

     Both our races were arrogant, we thought to live for eternity, a
millennium of life, was not enough, we had to have forever, we sought to
remove our kinds from the Weave of Magic that gives this world life.  In
doing so we broke the order, the balance.  We shattered this world, we
shattered the life force, the Weave.  Elves and dragons created the lesser
races.  My own peoples pity the Dragons, their death.  I pity my peoples,
who have had to watch an eternity as their death creeps upon them,
overwhelming them, watching, waiting, trying to pretend they have some
control over their fates.

     Pity.....pity those who lay before his path.  He could not control
fate, but he could ensure that when the flames of the Elven Peoples died
out forever, the flames burn out strong an powerful, leaving their memory
imprinted upon the world, forever.  Immortality, could be attained in
death, rather than life.

***************************************************************************

                                 YEAR ONE

     Alone once again, atop the windswept cliffs of Yzaldra, Sithek uth
Mater, sat amidst the backdrop of an evening sky...dark...speckled with a
multitude of pinpricks of light.   Amng the stones of the open temple of
Yzaldra, the Great Wizard, reflected upon the year's campaign as it drew to
a close...the outcomes, the preparations for the winter months ahead, and
the plans which could be put into action now, in preparation of next years
campaign.

     Much had happened this season.  The Yzaldran Armies had brought many
of the Lost Elven Tribes back into the fold of their Kingdom, including the
once powerful Vilean Elves.  The Lord High Marshal had cleansed their
nation of rampaging monsters that had plagued them eons.  Several holy
places of the Ancient Elves and Dragons had been discovered and had
contained much lost magic, as well as unholy places and magic, too.  Both
sides of the same coin.  Alliances had been formed and broken.  The Gnomes
to the south, would be pacified soon, that campaign would follow on into
the winter, their treachery would not soon be forgotten.  The Lizard
peoples to the north had remained loyal, both Kingdoms had prospered
because of this.  How long it would last was another question.

     Great structures had arisen all over the Kingdom and Yzaldra
prospered.

     Everything was proceeding towards the final battle.

     The splintering of his mind threatened to overwhelm him, even as the
splintering of his Elven Council threatened to overwhelm the operation of
his Kingdom.  Both situations mirroring one another.  Still, it grew and
prospered, his mind, his power, the kingdom.  Its fragileness threatening
to be over-run, to break at any moment.  He must not let that happen, the
choice must be made before his mind splintered forever.  Once made the
choice could not be undone.  Would the elves of go to the mists forever,
having chosen to embrace the light or the darkness of the current world?

     Alone he stood atop the cliffs, symbolic, as the elves stood at the
brink, their doom assured.  The manner of that doom, of embracing the Light
or the Dark, the only thing left undecided.  The fork was quickly
approaching in the road.  A path must be chosen.  Was there a way, to
repair the Weave?  The join the two aspects of magic once again into one
another?  Could the choice impact the outcome of this world?


*******************************************************************************

Contact Sithek uth Mater at bill0814@msn.com

PLAYER 18 - Mashkor

Fort Artis


   This morning when the sun rose over Fort Artis Mashkor
was already fully awake. He was planning an attack on the renowned city =
of
Taerk Hagul. One of the best defended towns on Pejron. Not wanting to =
lose
this battle that will certainly raise his whole army's morale he =
prepared his
plans with infinite care. Lack of money prevented him from researching =
magics
that would help his troops. The welfare of his peasants meant more than =
the
magic he could research now. At least for some time it would remain so.
Only the peasants of his kingdom can provide enough goods to build an
Empire that could Caizarus once again. The Dervish people played a great
part in the first fall of Caizarus Mashkor intended to see his people do =
the
same in Caizarus' second and last fall. A few Miners of Maergot of Taerk
Hagul stood in his way. They were going to be crushed...




   The Dervish established good relationship with their
neighbours the Ogres. It should help muster our strenghts before the
Big Bad Dude comes near as he surely will.









Holliwican ???


   Dervishes also found a hilly region reaching high into
the clouds. It might be a path to find other trading partners. If only =
this
fearsome tribe of Minotaurs could go away... Once the army has finished=20
with Taerk Hagul that's where they're heading. And they'll see who is=20
most fearsome!




Mashkor


Wizard of the Dervish

Contact Mashkor at pdesjard@isi-mtl.com

PLAYER 19 - Barca Blackheart

"People of High Alfax, now I claim all of you as my subjects. Obey your master, or die!"

Contact Barca Blackheart at weimin.yu@streaming21.com

PLAYER 20 - Ra

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Ra at florian.santer@uibk.ac.at

Off to WOW Game Status Page.