PLAYER 1 - TYM

TYM Master of Himalayak Proclarims

Prepare for Arragoth!! The Icelanders of Himalayak have named TYM to be their new ruler. A magnificent wizard from the realm of Peeseas. TYM has agreed to lead them in a fight for freedom, and glory unsurpassed in all of Himalayak's legends. As By-tor the snow dog overthrew Bisalis Necromancer, so too shall TYM overthrow Arragoth's chains. The new Icelander plan is to expand and join many friends of the light in preparation of war. Zylintkaa Yomaik Shown here is one of our bravest heros. He has agreed to take charge of all scouting activites until his skills are needed elsewhere. Zylintkaa will explore the tundra and beyond in search of our neighbors. He is expected to find Himalayak, as well as the kingdoms of Mount Zamus and Boforth. Hopefully Paladine, the Icelander shamen will have contacted these kingdoms and aranged before our great gods to have our scouts meet in peace. These would not be the first such dealings of Paldine, as we already have peace with some good wizards (Rathnagzee, Balar, Yarl, and others). May all the brothers of the light work together in creating a unified front versus Jubba the mad and other minions of Arragoth. Beware Of War ! Let me remind you all of the Icelanders during the last rising of Arragoth. Shimall Tusker as head of the mamoth riders recruited nearly Eight Hunderd mamoth riders for the final assaults against the Xerazus the Volcanic stronghold of Arragoth. As Quintillas the Admiral dropped Shimall and his forces off on the shores, a great battle followed, as the Orc wolf riders under the command of Targ, attempted to hold the Icelanders at bay. It was a mighty battle, where the hefty mamoths should have smashed through the six hundred pound wolves with little troubel, except for the shear numbers Targ had been able to muster. Finnaly as bodies of dead riders and their mounts seemed to outnumber the living boddies all along the rocky shores Shimall was able to engage Targ in a deadly duel. And with the Graces of the light Shimall was the survivor. And with their leader fallen, the orcish wolf riders scattered inland to regroup later. Over the next two months Shimall Tusker hunted through the Volcanic regions looking for a way into Arragoth's keep. Each day bringing raids from the wolf riders, and each night demonic knights would attack. Although his army was too big to be faced directly, the minions of Arragoth widdled the once mighty army away a bit at a time, it became obvious to Shimall that to continue the attack would be fruitless. If success was to be obtained the Icelanders were going to require help from other races. And so Quntillas was called back to the shores and he picked up what remaind of the Icelander attack on Xerazus. One of the fellows that threw the Iclanders out: Look forward to Friendship ! We have hired men and women of many races to eplore The Domain of Arragoth. Their purposes are many fold. Top amonst those is the search for friendly wizards for trade and alliance. Senor Porticus the Icelander is reknowned throughout the land for his searching and Diplomatic capabilities. Senor Porticus looking for friends:

So Speakath TYM of the Himalayak Icelanders

Contact TYM at tym1@mediaone.net

PLAYER 2 - Yellow Wizard

The difference between an eye of newt and an eye of bat is not as great as the
difference between a man of the sword and a man of the unseen powers of magic.
Replacing the eye of newt with the eye of bat can be compensated with three frog
legs and the eye of newt is more agreeable with the palate, especially when
complimented with a nice bottle of white wine. The difference between a
swordsman and a magician is vastly wider. When a knight kills a mage, he rids
the world of evil, but if a warlock causes the death of a king (or even if he is
suspected of conspiring to do so), he is chased to the end of the world, and
then some. While trying to evade these ruthless, fanatic, blood-hungry men of
war, the wizard, quite often, is practically defenseless, as spell components
are hard enough to find even when you don't have to hide out in caves or old
barns. The warrior's life is a short, glorious one, which climaxes in his
untimely death in a great battle for some noble cause. He may carry a noble
title, Earl, or Duke, or even King. A Wizard's life is usually a short, dark,
mysterious life, dying at the hands of petty thieves who broke in to steal the
silver, which he obviously was lacking. He may carry the title of Court
Magician.

Believe me, not every mage is spectacular. Not to say that every sword-bearer is
an dragon killer, but there is definitely a higher chance of earning a title by
the sword than surviving as a man of the secret powers. After all, how many
famous magicians have you heard of? Three? Four? Have you ever heard of Noor's
great warlock, Pierre l'Merde (He gained his title by dropping dung piles on
enemy forces), or of Aloria's grand Phtom-lek ? But everyone has heard of Sir
Valiant, Sir Honorable, Sir Virtuous, the duke of this, the high lord of that.
It just goes to show that most men prefer a good blood-dripping sword to an eye
of newt.Okay, okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, but here at King Snoddy's court,
I've seen more hatred directed towards old Noggin than I ever imagined possible.
Maybe I should tell you a little more about myself, so as to make it easier for
you to understand what I really mean. Four years ago King Asnodine the Third's
court magician, Slanoggin, had an affair with my sister, Neeta. Nine months
later she gave birth to my darling nephew, Nogeet. When Slanoggin heard that she
had given birth (and that the child survived the birth, too), he did the only
thing a respectable wizard could do -- he took me on as an apprentice, to learn
all about the dark secrets and how to use them. More than three years have
passed and I must say that I've come a long way since I came to him, young twit
that I was.

By now, I can tell the difference between toad legs and frog legs, between
salamander eyes and gecko eyes, and I cast a spell or two. (I can cause small
flames to appear out of nowhere and I can cause any inanimate to glow, and even
to shine as bright as the sun).'F'noot,' he said in his deep, gruff voice. 'I
think you're coming along just fine. Now get me some poison ivy.'He's one of
those really warm people, if you know what I mean. However, not everybody can
see through his tough skin. For instance, Sir Tiwan, who accidentally found his
death in the garden one day when an extremely rare spider bit him amongst the
geraniums. Interestingly enough, he had accused Noggin with murderous intentions
just the night before. However, as Noggin was distantly related to the king's
mistress, he was never put on trial for treason (which is all for the best,
because the chaos it would have caused would have been enormous). There was a
slight fuss at the funeral, but nothing that Noggin couldn't get away with.
After all, it wasn't his fault that the honorable Sir Tiwan had thrust his hand
where no hand had gone before (It had been a fresh batch of geraniums, just in
off the ship). And so, you may ask, why am I, F'noot Snokhan, son of J'kard
Snokhan, village shoemaker, staying here at the castle, as an appentice to an
occupation which may cause my untimely death, before the age of twenty-five? Why
don't I go and join all the other sixteen year old youths who are practising
their fencing and horse-riding? These questions have two answers to them. One,
my family will be humiliated if I don't finish this apprenticeship successfully
(As if the humiliation of an illegitimate grandson wasn't enough). Two, I do not
have the physical fitness needed to swing around a sword and my social status
does not open many job opportunities, besides shoemaking and begging. Not that
either of those two wonderful occupations are not legitimate enough, or
honorable enough for that matter, it's just that magic is so much more
interesting. Just tell me this -- wouldn't you prefer a dangerous and mysterious
life to a boring, banal life as a shoemaker ? No? Let me put it another way --
wouldn't you prefer to sleep in the castle and eat four solid meals a day than
to sleep in a leaky loft over your father's chicken coop and subsist mostly on
turnips, rutabagas and rye bread? Well, I never could abide rutabagas. Besides,
my master admits to two-score years, and I suspect him of many more (scores, not
years), so not all mages meet an early end.

Anyway, for three years, I have fetched Noggin his poison ivy or whatnot,
blackened his boots and kept the embroidery on his court robes in repair. And I
study; I can read pretty well, do some some maths, and have a smattering of the
Anglo, Persian and Latin languages.
Today, I am hauling a pail of horse manure (no, it is not a spell component; it
is for my master's herb garden) when Worm runs up, panting for breath. "Hey,
Foot!" He gasps, "h-, h- " He is too out-of-breath to speak, and I flex my
aching shoulders and put down my pail. W'rym Hodges, one of the court pages, is
my only friend in the world, but only because he is too simple to realize that
mages are a poor choice for companionship. "What is it, Worm?" I ask. "His
Majesty wants Slanoggin in his chambers righ' away!" Worm speaks so fast the the
sentence sounds about three words long. "What, why?" "I don' know, he was
yellin' pretty loud, though." I sigh, "Noggin's in town, and not expected back
until this evening," I reply, "Do you think His Majesty will wait?" "He sounded
angry, Foot -- awful angry. I don' wan' a tell him Slanoggin isn't comin'." I
sigh again, and look down at my soiled clothes, "I guess I had better go get
cleaned up and head on up there." "Fast!" I leave Worm with the pail and run as
fast as I can to my small alcove in Noggin's workshop (up, of course; wizards
always live in towers). In the time that I have lived here, I have only been
allowed to speak to the king once -- I said "Thank you, Sire," when I was
introduced to him upon taking up residence in his castle. I have no clean
clothes! Luckily, another minor spell I've learned allows me to cast small
illusions (that are not very hard to see through). I use this to blend the
stains and a small tear into the rest of the fabric of my best court garb.

Donning it, I hustle my sweaty frame down the tower steps, across the courtyard
and up to Snoddy's residence itself while tearing my fingers through the worst
of the tangles in my hair. "No Slanoggin?" the guard frowns, "His Majesty isn't
going to like that." "I know," I sigh, "Still, what is one to do?" "True
enough," the guard opens the door and steps inside. "F'noot, Apprentice to the
Mage Slanoggin, begs audience with His Majesty Asnodine III!" he announces. "Oh,
balls, no Slanoggin!?" I hear the kings irate voice, "Very well, let the lad
in."

"Sire!" I bend low to the floor, skinny derriere up in the air, "It is a
privilege to serve you!"Snoddy sprawls in a large sunken bath; perfume steams
into the air above the water. "Get up and get over here," he snarls, "There is a
bag o' runes on that table. You will tell me my future."

"Your future, Sire?" "Will you make me repeat myself?!" "Yes, Sire! I mean, no,
Sire!" I grab the silken bag and pour the stones into my hand. They are the most
beautiful I have seen. Without ceremony, I toss them onto the ground near the
bath and watch horrified as one skitters in. The king quickly fishes it out and
hands it to me, his eyes already on those I cast. As I toss the last stone, I
realize that he is barely hiding a sense of panic. "Now, what do they say?" he
demands.

I look up and swallow, fearing just how much he can read the runes himself. Now
many people seem to think that supernatural tools such as the runes or the tarot
are not much more than simple wave-of-your-hand, snake-oil showmanship -- any
old fool can learn the meaning of each tile or card and learn how to string it
all together. On the other hand, some people feel these devices are surrounded
by mysterious and deep secrets which can only be truly understood by the wise
and learned.To be honest, both are right -- to a degree. Any old fool can learn
the basic meaning for Fehu and Gehu or for Temperance and Death. Casting the
runes is easy. Shuffling the Tarot is a piece of cake. Seeing what stones lie
face up, or which cards are laid out, is child's play and any idiot can
manufacture a story that ties them all together. (Well, maybe not any idiot. I
have my doubts about Worm's abilities as a convincing storyteller.) But to
really devine the future from the runes or the tarot, one must know more than
just the basics. The depths of true meaning is found only in understanding the
subtle inter-relationships between the different archetypal icons and images.
Knowing that the Gefu rune to the right of Fehu means that the client will give
wealth away while Gefu to the left of Fehu means that someone else will give
wealth to your client. Or knowing that when the card of the High Priestess is
surrounded by many cards of the Sword suit, the future deals with an internal,
subconscious battle. This is the type of knowledge that raises a real soothsayer
above the common rable, that marks the prophesies of a true diviner.
Unfortunately, I've never been very good at remembering subtle details.

"Get on with it boy!" Jumping at Snoddy's snap, I look over to see that he is
now leaning halfway out of his perfumed bath, dripping soapy water onto the
floor. Oddly, I notice that water from the puddle forming beneath his hairy
chest has begun to slowly meander towards the scattered stones. "Uh, yes Sire.
Of course sire." I wipe my now-damp palms down the side of my tunic to calm
myself, and then take a closer look at the scattered runes. Out of the 24 rune
stones, only thirteen are face up. Thirteen! I hope Snoddy doesn't think to
count them -- that particular number would probably panic him more. I decide I'd
better keep things simple by only considering the face-up stones (Why should I
confuse the issue with the less important secondary relationships associated
with face down runes? Besides, I bet I'm going to have enough trouble just
figuring out the rest!) Stalling for time to collect my thoughts and concoct a
future reading, I begin to trace my finger above the scattered runes and mutter
under my breath as if I am ruminating on the individual significance of each
stone (a useful trick I picked up from watching Slanoggin over the years). Out
of the corner of my eye I can see that Snoddy is watching my movements like a
hawk. The important stones have fallen in an unusually regular pattern, roughly
forming two concentric circles with a single stone at the very center. I start
my tracery with the middle stone, and realize that it is the stone which flipped
into Snoddy's bath. Briefly, I wonder whether the soap bubbles should affect the
reading. The rune is Berkana, "the Birch", known for its durability and
vitality. Unfortunately the rune is inverted, the top pointing down towards my
feet, which doesn't bode well for old Snoddy and his Vitality. Berkana is
tightly encircled by four runes, Hagla to the left, Pethru above, Ihwar to the
right and Tiwar below: "Cruel Nature", "The Unseen", "The Hunter" and "War"
respectively. I swallow nervously -- this is not looking very promising,
especially since the top of each rune points in towards Berkana. I quietly pray
that the outer eight runes are more promising -- I have the distinct feeling
that my career would not be favourably advanced by pronouncing that the King's
future is doomed.

I start a clockwise circuit of the outer ring of face-up rune stones just to the
left and up from Hagla. The circuit starts with Raidu, "Journeying" which is
followed by Kaunna, "Fire"; Naudir, "Desperate Need"; Isar, "Ice"; Mannar,
"Wisdom"; Lagur, "Water"; Aigir, "Protection"; and Dagar, "Daylight". And each
rune lies so that it follows the curve of the surrounding circle, the head of
one leading into the foot of the next.I stare at the runes for a moment more,
and finally step away from these hellish devices. I wonder whether I should err
on the conservative side, making a warning where ever a warning would be
prudent, or err on the side of keeping my job by hand-waving over the negative
implications. Slowly I turn and look over where King Asnodine is leaning so far
out of his bath in anticipation that if he leaned just one inch more he would
fall out, sprawling his soapy body among his princely runestones. "Well boy,
what does it mean? Tell me boy, I need to know, and I need to know NOW!" I
quickly decide that starting with the centre rune would be a bad idea - I never
have liked starting with the obvious - you can't bullshit as well. Completely at
random I focus on one of the outer eight - Raidu. Breathing deeply, I drop my
voice low, trying to imitate Noggin's deep voice. "Sire," my vocal chords squeak
out. I cough and start again, pointing at Raidu. Suddenly an idea comes to me. I
quickly thank all the Gods I know of, in case one of Them sent it to me. "This
rune represents but one of the four focuses of your power." I indicate Brekana
idly with my hand. "Each focus is three fold. We have Raidu, Dagar and Hagla in
the west, the sunset - or we could say Dark - side of your power." I glance at
the King to check his reaction. I notice he's slid back down into the bath
slightly. I let out a breath I hadn't realize I had been holding. I gesture to
the other side of Brekana. "Here, on the sunrise side we have Mannar, Isar, and
Ihwar, representing your Bright side of power - the parts that your subjects
love about you." I realize that the King must know nothing of the meanings of
these words, because he doesn't find it odd that "Ice" is included in this
group. I let myself smile. Warming up to my telling, I tackle the bottom three
runes. "Here, sire, we have your foundations, what you've built your kingdom
on - Algir, Lagur, and Tiwar." I purposely pronouce the last one Tih-wahr not
Tih-wore, hoping he won't ask me it's meaning. I guessed wrong."Quit being coy,
boy and tell me what they mean! I have court magicians to tell me things in
plain language, not in gobbly-gook!" He sits back in the tub, causing water to
slosh over the edge of the bath and wash away several of the face-down runes.
"Well, sire. Your kingdom, as most are in these trying times, is based on
Protection - for your subjects and from your subjects; Water - You control most
of the ports on this side of the ocean; and - War - your glorious forays into
the lands of the infidels who do not look to your leadership." I mentally cross
my fingers and hope he buys it. I glance over - he's grinning at me like a
school boy. "I told them I was doing it right - Protect, Ports, Punish!" he
tells me. With hand gestures that cover me with water droplets, he motions for
me to continue.

I turn back to the first three runes. "Linked to your forays, you have a love of
journeying that no one knows about and that you don't get to fulfil often, a
journeying into the world to face Cruelest Nature and to tame her. But with
Dagar, or Daylight, appearing here you wish to bring these desires out into the
east, into the surise, moving through your power, your vitality that is
Brekana." I gesture to the centre stone again. I wonder if I went too far on
that one, but he grins at me again, this time with a conspirator's smile. He
doesn't say anything but he does blush a bit. I wisely pretend I don't see his
embarrassment. "To the East, your Bright side, you are the Hunter - the provider
for everyone in your kingdom. And you are wise, and the people love your wisdom.
And -" Here I glance at the king's body wondering if I can get away with what
I'm about to say. "You are beautiful sire. You sparkle like ice in winter.
You're dangerous, but handsome. To many people, the perfect ruler." I roll my
eyes and tell myself to shut up before I get into trouble, but my mouth seems to
have a life of its own. "You are firm and cold in your decisions, but not
unwilling to melt a little bit if presented with the heat of passion, to be
flexible when you wish." By this point the King has sunk down almost completely
underwater. So he's easy to flatter, I realize. I'll remember this in the
future, when I'm court magician, I think, ambition beginning to rise in me. I
make my voice as low as it can go and boom out in a prophet's voice (or at least
what I think a prophet's voice would sound like). "And finally, sire, your
future, what your power, your reign and even YOUR LIFE depend upon." The King
quickly scrambles back out onto the edge of the bath, leaning forward, waiting
for my pronouncement. I look at the three remaing runes - Fire, Desperate Need,
and the Unseen, reversed! - and realize I'm in deep shit. I pause a moment to
study Pethru (the unseen). The rune is beautifully carved out of a stone I do
not recognize. Unlike the cheap set I own, it is the work of a master craftsman;
I am mesmerized in by its beauty. I begin to speak, but my thoughts are focused
on the quality of rune. "Your future begins with..." My voice trails off when
the rune is suddenly cloaked in a mist. I rub my eyes and return my gaze to the
stone. The mist is gone. In the background Snoddy is inching forward ever so
slightly, trying to discern what I might be seeing. Must have been staring a
little to hard I think to myself. "My future begins with what?" Now Snoddy
doesn't like to be kept waiting. In fact, he hates it. The combination of the
hot bath water and his excitement were turning his face a positively bright red.

"Sorry" I say, realizing if I don't finish this reading I won't live long enough
to be court magician. I turn back to Pethru. The intricacies of the carving
fascinate me. My gaze is once again captured by its perfection. "Your future
begins with ..." The mist is there again, rolling across the face of the rune.
It clings the rune obscuring it. This time I rub my eyes and shake my head. When
I look back, the mist is gone. Just some steam from the bath, I think to myself.
"MY FUTURE BEGINS WITH WHAT WHAT WHAT?" Snoddy is getting hysterical, so I
immediately return to reading the runes. Once again, pethru grabs my gaze; and
once again the mist forms around it. "Do you see that?" I ask, continuing to
stare at the rune. "Do I see what?" The King is panicking. "The Pethru rune," I
say, "Do you see that?" I point to the rune and its mini-cloud. Snoddy leans way
forward out of the bath resting his considerable weight on his elbows. "WHAT,
WHAT. TELL ME WHAT YOU SEE!" I suddenly realize just how anxious the King is
about his future; and my survival skills were kicking in. I begin my analysis
again. "Your future begins with..." Suddenly, the mist begins spreading to the
neighboring runes. My attention is drawn to Naudir (desperate need). The rune
seems to be falling back away from me, leaving a void. I am drawn in the space
it has left. I get this strange feeling that Pethru is reaching out, involving
the other runes. Somehow, I know Pethru is the key. "Now you listen F'noot and
you listen good," Snoddy intones in a low threatening growl. "If you don't tell
me what is going on I will slay you myself right here. GUARDS! GUARDS! Fetch me
my sword." I pay him no mind. Wafts of mist are being drawn off Pethru in a
whirlpool around Naudir. I have never seen anything like this. A pattern is
forming; a pattern, or perhaps a window; yes, its like a stained glass window.
Suddenly, Pethru and Naudir ignite Kaunna (fire). The rune springs to life in a
fiery glow. Isar (ice) is next. It radiates cold blue. As each rune joins, the
window becomes more complex, and more transparent. I can see something through
the window, but I can't make it out. Ihwar (the hunter) and Raidu (journeying)
are the next runes included. Hagla (cruel nature), Mannar (wisdom), Dagar
(daylight), Tiwar (war), Lagur (water) and Aigir (protection) all join together
to form an intricate pattern around the center and as yet lifeless Berkana (the
birch). I realize the runes are a catalyst. In much the same way that a bat wing
and two holly berries help the mage unlock the forces of light, the runes are a
tool of divination; but what will they show me? The future? The Past? I struggle
to see through the window. Berkana is the focus, the lens which will make
everything clear. Pethru? Pethru somehow ties this all together. It is the
driving force. In the distance I am aware the guard has returned. Naked, Snoddy
leaps from his bath, slips on the wet floor and lands next to me with a flabby
thud. "BALLS! You'll pay for that F'maggot. Give me my sword now or you'll be
next," Snoddy threatens the guard. I extend my finger and it goes through
Berkana!

Suddenly, the shimmering tapestry of runes engulfs me in a whirlpool of
shimmering light! "This is your last chance F'nidiot. You will tell me my future
or you will die," is a last thing I hear before I am being drown inside in the
splashes of emerald light.

I open my eyes (dont remember when I become unconcious) to see that somehow this
place is different. It is possibly even different world, and different time. Oh,
my, how did I get myself in such mess? Damn, sometimes I wish my sister had
slept with some old, stupid blacksmith, and not a brlliant old wizard like
Noggin. Thinking of this I realize that only wizardry can bring me back.

Yes, I will find the way! The search begins now.

Contact Yellow Wizard at timdvoskin@infonet.by

PLAYER 3 - John The Boring

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact John The Boring at johnmcintosh@netscapeonline.co.uk

PLAYER 4 - Dread Lord Araxus, Minion of Arragoth

The High Elves of the Sacred Forest
	The People The High elves are one of the most ancient and noble races.  Long flowing blond hair, sharp facial features and a slight build are the characteristics that make this race stand apart.  Sacred Forest, the main High Elven city, is filled with residents which are both craftsmen and scholars, living a peaceful life.  However, Sacred Forest is much smaller than it once was.  Arragoth continually toys with the High Elves, having the outer trees burned by his armies. The High Elves patrol the edges of the forest, attempting to preserve the lives of their sacred trees.  Their archers often bring down the troops of Arragoth. This aggression is tolerated by the son of the Fire Gods, only because he reveals in the frustration shown by the High Elves, as the try in vain to save their precious forest. The Coming of the Shrouded One In recent weeks however, rumors have spread of the strange appearance with Sacred Forest of an unknown elven lord who has only recently declared himself as Lord Araxus, a wizard of great renown and power from other worlds.  While originally taken aback by the presence of an outsider, even if a high-elf, the people of Sacred Forest being utterly frustrated with the harrasments of Arragoth's minions have allowed themselves to be swayed by this newcomer.  Persuasive and glib of tongue, Lord Araxus has convinced the elves that Arragoth lacks the strength or power to eradicate the elves and so is in reality content to mere scorch their forests to anger them.  However on the other hand, one can readily recognize the futility of trying to oppose an immortal fire god for all eternity when patience and time is on his side.  In light of these arguments, Lord Araxus has managed to convince the elves to strike the devil's bargain with Arragoth.  Seeing as how neither side can destroy the other, perhaps they would both best be served by combining their forces to crush all who would oppose them.  The High Elves view this as an opportunity to sway Arragoth into direct aggression against their ancient enemies, while avoiding those races the High Elves are indifferent towards.  However, messengers had been dispatched to achieve this goal weeks ago and have not been heard from since.  Lord Araxus cautions patience, for Arragoth is likely just being cautious before agreeing to any terms.  However it is still unclear if Arragoth will indeed go for such a bold plan, and it could wind up backfiring on the High Elves, but it is a risk they are willing to take. Deeply spiritual, while at first apprehensive towards outsiders, early mistrusts can be overcome with the Sacred Forest High-Elves, though it is hardest for those races of ancient animosity with elves...
The Guardianship Awaiting the uncertain response from Arragoth, the High-Elves of Sacred Forest continue to patrol and protect the holy trees of their forest against his minions, waiting for any sign of the cecession of aggression and hostilities.  Until that time, none are permitted to enter Sacred Forest and intruders will be slain on sight!
The Preparation In preparation for the coming of the wizards, High Lord Araxus, the Shrouded One, has ordered the awakening of the ancient dragon hatcheries to protect the homeland of the elves.  Those seeking conquest against Sacred Forest will be confronted by an army of such fantastic beasts.  Only a fool would risk such a venture, and the wise would value such a powerful ally.
jeffv@microsoft.com

Contact Dread Lord Araxus, Minion of Arragoth at jeffv@microsoft.com

PLAYER 5 - Fizzledizzum

Contact Fizzledizzum at jay.griffiths@expeditors.com

PLAYER 6 - GungaDin

Deep in the forest he waits. The time is comming when he will have to
leave his home in the dark trees and join the battle, but for now we
watch. The races squable amongst themselves while the fire god grows
strong. They can not see, they do not know. Perhaps somday we will tell
them what we see but for now we will hide in our jungle home. Waiting....
for the right time. Know this the time IS comming, and when it does the
one who watches will be ready. 
Last Book of the Lord 
Chapter 16
Then I heard a loud voice from the temple saying to the seven angels,
"Go, pour out the seven bowls of God's wrath on the earth."
2 
The first angel went and poured out his bowl on the land, and ugly and
painful sores broke out on the people who had the mark of the beast and
worshiped his image.
3 
The second angel poured out his bowl on the sea, and it turned into blood
like that of a dead man, and every living thing in the sea died.
4 
The third angel poured out his bowl on the rivers and springs of water,
and they became blood.
5 
Then I heard the angel in charge of the waters say: "You are just in
these judgments, you who are and who were, the Holy One, because you have
so judged;
6 
for they have shed the blood of your saints and prophets, and you have
given them blood to drink as they deserve." 
7 
And I heard the altar respond: "Yes, Lord God Almighty, true and just are
your judgments."
8 
The fourth angel poured out his bowl on the sun, and the sun was given
power to scorch people with fire.
9 
They were seared by the intense heat and they cursed the name of God, who
had control over these plagues, but they refused to repent and glorify
him.
10 
The fifth angel poured out his bowl on the throne of the beast, and his
kingdom was plunged into darkness. Men gnawed their tongues in agony
11 
and cursed the God of heaven because of their pains and their sores, but
they refused to repent of what they had done.
12 
The sixth angel poured out his bowl on the great river Euphrates, and its
water was dried up to prepare the way for the kings from the East.

Contact GungaDin at Hardtooth@aol.com

PLAYER 7 - Yarl

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Yarl at 113673.3221@compuserve.com

PLAYER 8 - Hluuurgh!

Hluuurgh looked round and surreptitiously rubbed his right foot claw. =
While
kicking the more, shall we say, grey matterly challenged members of the
royal circle in the head was a deeply satisfying pasttime, it did have =
its
disadvantages when double-jointed claw met solid bone.

It was a little known fact that the heads of lizard people were, in =
fact,
solid bone, their brains being located in their groin.  Hluuurgh =
considered
this only appropriate given the sexual predilictions of most lizard =
males,
and a far more honest positioning than the average race making a feeble
pretence at virtue by storing them in their heads, where they could be
easily got at.  Better for war too, as an aside.  Nothing was more
demoralising to the average enemy than being beaten to death by their =
own
sword when they had just finished ramming it through both of their =
opponents
ears.  All that tended to produce was a deaf, and considerably annoyed,
lizardman.

"Take it away" he ordered languidly.  Stupid lizard.  If it hadn't =
insulted
him he wouldn't have had to kick it.  And if it hadn't hurt his foot he
wouldn't have had to have it killed, would he?  Mind blast right through =
the
groin....served it right.  "Boiled, white wine sauce" he added.
"Medium to well done".  Nothing like a good boilup.

For the thousandth time, Hluuurgh contemplated changing his name.
Traditionally lizardpeople names were chosen by the mother just after =
birth,
but in Hluuurg's case his rather too eager father had asked the question
just a fraction too early.  In fact, his actual name was - as nearly as =
it
is able to get with letters -
HHHHLLUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRR-AAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, =
but
at least they had done him the favour of shortening it somewhat.  That =
was
at the insistence of his mother, who had always been the smarter of the =
two
and remained somewhat embarrassed at her son's involuntary naming.  In
contrast however his father had, in a fit of entirely in character base
stupidity, as far as Hluuurgh was concerned, inculcated a great deal of
pride into his son about his name and its specific and detailed method =
of
actual intonation (ie identically to the way his mother had said it) =
BEFORE
releasing him (before Hluuurgh knew any better) on an unsuspecting =
outside
lizard world.  Specifically, the training schools for young lizard =
people.
Unfortunately, when properly pronounced, answering the seemingly simple
question "What is your name?" had inevitably resulted in a concerned =
teacher
giving him a laxative and sending him to the communal cess-pit.  After =
some
time it had become a running joke amongst the teachers and students.  Ho =
ho
ho.  Hluuurgh hoped they had also found it funny dying in the carefully
planned variety of "accidents" he had arranged for them.

Sadly, Hluuurgh had not been the prime specimen of lizardman beef that =
his
father had envisaged.  He was, to put it frankly, the runt of the =
litter,
and had been mercilessly bullied by his siblings, classmates, and anyone
else who happened to come along and was bigger than him, which was just
about everyone.  Short, wiry, with somewhat mottled scales and slightly =
buck
teeth, Hluuurgh has seldom been sucessful at any physical activity you =
could
manage to think of.  The humiliation of defeat by a young lizard half =
his
age had almost been too much to bear.  Almost, but not quite.  For young
Hluuurg had a brain, and the library was a convenient refuge - the least
likely place to find lizardchild bullies....or many lizard people at =
all,
for that matter.

Only the prospect of exquisite revenge had kept him going through all =
those
years.  That, and his discovery in the library of the secrets of black =
magical
power, beyond anything any member of his race had ever gone before.  The
books were there, in fact, solely because his tutors had understood them =
not
at all.  But of a race not noted for its intellectual prowess, Hluuurgh =
was
a notable exception, and to his agile brain it has all fallen into =
place.
Thank Arragoth for his mother, was Hluuurgh's fervent opinion.  And =
thank Arragoth for his powers......the Lord of Fire had given him much =
over the years.  Not many knew the power of the dark side....to be had =
for the asking.  Just a few promises to be made for such =
power....promises, promises, such little things.  Made to be =
broken..except that Arragoth was not a god to be crossed.  And, to be =
honest, Hluuurgh enjoyed his power too much to want to give it back =
easily.  Go back to being the under-developed scrawny picked-on despised =
runt?

Not.
Bloody.
Likely.

They would suffer, the tall things.  They would all suffer a GREAT deal.

Hluuurgh lived for the delicious thrill of causing painful death to any =
being that tried to bully him.  Which seemed to be just about everyone, =
unless they saw someone else try first or knew him by reputation.  The =
thrill of watching them sweat in fear, their bladder's emptying at the =
realisation that they would never leave his torture chamber alive.  =
Their piteous weeping - so strong when THEY were the bullies; never any =
hint of mercy from THEM!  They made Hlurrgh! sick to his stomach; a =
problem which he cured by relieving them of theirs.

With a quiet sigh, Hluuurgh slid from his chair and headed toward the =
throne
room.  Pausing at a discreet side entrance, he listened carefully. His
suspicions confirmed, Hluuurgh pushed the door open quietly and entered,
disturbing not a whit the assembled ambassadors, the gnomish dignatory =
now
in his second hour of droning and showing no signs of slowing.  In the
throne slouched the recumbent figure of King Thragnot the Slimy, nodding =
his
head solemly at the gnomish word babbler at precise 5 second intervals. =
Just
as he had been programmed to do.

Hluuurgh beamed at the King happily.  No one suspected that the King had =
no
volition remaining whatsoever; probably because the King had never had =
much
in the first place, apart from some admittedly easily grasped concepts =
such
as "kill", "eat" and "make baby lizards".  Hluuurgh had programmed a =
large
number of simple action strings into the King's brain ("macro's", he =
called
them) for most occasions, and could take direct control when
necessary, but remaining careful not to portray the King as a lizard =
that
actually contained a brain (which would have been thoroughly out of
character).  Somehow, the decisions that Hluuurgh wanted just seemed to
arrive naturally from the King's mouth, to the absolute bafflement of =
his
enemies.  The only lizardmen councillors that had ever shown any glimmer =
of
suspicion had met untimely ends.  The rest, such as Hluuurgh allowed to
remain, either suspected nothing or kept their mouths shut in a greater
display of wisdom than Hluuurgh would have given them credit for.

The gnome had finally deigned to notice the intrusion.  Pausing for a =
second
to wipe stray flecks of foam from his beard, the ambassador winkled his
exceedingly large nose in annoyance.  "And who, Sir Lizard, might you =
be, to
interrupt important treaty negotiations?  The crusade against Arragoth =
is
too important a subject to waste on boys".  Pompous at best, the Gnomes,
thought Hluuurgh. Tough and stringy meat, too.  He bared his teeth in =
what
might have passed for a smile, but wasn't.

"Allow me to introduce myself" said Hluuurgh.  "I am the foremost =
advisor to
King Thragnot the Slimy, and the most dangerous and powerful =
lizardperson in
the realm.  I am a wizard of fire and darkness such as you have never =
seen.
You would do well to show more respect, or make your peace with your =
gods,
such weaklings as they may be.  My name is...."  Staring at each one of =
the
assembled ambassadors with malevolent intensity, Hluuurgh carefully and =
with
the correct intonation told them his name.

The ambassadors stared at this slight...no, scrawny was the =
word...lizardman
with the strange staff in absolute silence.  The most dangerous =
lizardperson
in the realm?   That name......!  The gnomish ambassador was the first =
to
crack.  His face turned red, began to twitch.  His eyes watered. Finally =
he
could bear it no longer and exploded into laughter.  It was the straw =
that
broke the slave's back....in seconds the entire company of assembled
ambassadors had dissolved into helpless gales of mirth at this =
ridiculous
lizard-boy.  Even the haughty high elf had cracked a smile, while the
dervish ambassador laughed a maniacal laugh with a hot gaze that =
suggested
madness.

"Heh heh heh....away wi' ye lad" snorted the gnome, regaining some =
semblance
of control.."I can see that ye're not a full grown yet.  And I thank you =
for
the amusement you've given us with that silly name - you don't have to =
say
your real one if ye don't wish.  But you run along now and let your =
betters
do the serious business."

Hluuurgh savoured the rage coursing through his veins like a fine wine. =
He
studied them all, committing their names to memory.  Nodding once, he =
turned
and left.

Some of the ambassadors would die over the next few days, and that would =
be
the finish of it. Tragic accidents all....dangerous animals hereabouts =
etc
etc.  With others, Hluuurgh had simply decided that he disliked their =
entire
race...that gnome for instance.  The High Elves... arrogant patronising
intellectual tree huggers.  And the dervishes...their leader surely an =
easy
kill, deranged as he was.  He considered a lethal display of magical =
power
against the dervish representative, but decided against it.  Best they
underestimated him for now - best they think the kingdom led by King
Thragnot the Slimy, still nodding his head at precise five second =
intervals.

Revenge, he reminded himself, is a dish best eaten cold.  Making the =
world safe for the vertically challenged.

Contact Hluuurgh! at ivanmc@xtra.co.nz

PLAYER 9 - Alodar the Apprentice

*sigh* Here I go again (but which I... ?) - my uncle TOLD me not to fiddle with
that 'clone self' spell back on my first homeworld until I was absolutely sure
I had mastered it... I _thought_ I had, but somehow I got stuck in an endless
loop, and now I find myself in the strangest of worlds all the time, and soon
I lose count of which me is really me, and which me is a clone of a clone of a
clone...

Not that it really matters, sometimes it can even be useful to be able to rely
on the experience of not only oneself, but approximately 17 zillion clones as
well, take or give a few zillions... Let me see, in which world was it that I
actually found the, that time not-so-proverbial but instead all too real,
needle in a haystack by actually sitting down on it... [pondering deeply for
maybe 4.2137 microzillion clonecarnations]

Drat, my memory is not so good as it was still 5 zillion clonecarnations ago,
I cannot possibly recall where this was - wonder if it is worth wasting a spell
on finding it out... Let me see, what spell would that be - FWWAFNIAHBSDOI
(Finding World Where Alodar Found Needle In A Haystack By Sitting Down On It)
or maybe a simple GIGO spell would do it...

Never mind, I guess I have mused on past memories long enough as it is (4.2318
microzillion clonecarnations by now, to be exact) so maybe I should take a look
at these new surroundings - somehow I seem to sense an odd familiarity in the
vibrations of magic - I really get a feeling of deja vu (or deja clone...) and
a quite strong one at that!

Hmm, there is another feeling around here which I do not feel like liking - in
fact I feel that what I feel is the strongest possible dislike, for... for...
something...

AARGHH !!!

I AM IN THE UNDERWORLD !!!

HELP !!!

Just take it easy, Alodar, don't panic, take a DEEP breath and practice the
relaxation technique you learnt on the planet Wumpus 7 zillion clonecarnations
ago...

[*splat*]

(Oh drat, I THOUGHT that was a relaxation technique, not a laxation technique!)

Well, what about this one I learnt on the planet Asphyxia somewhat later, or
was it earlier... Or was it Asphyxia at all, maybe it was somewhere else...

Ahh, it worked - it made me completely forget my claustrophobia! My WHAT-

*AARGHH* !!!!!

*I AM IN THE UNDERWORLD* !!!!!

*HELP* !!!!!

[Frantically trying to remember how to cast the spell 'relieve utter panic' and
 in even utterer panic realising that it had completely vanished from memory]

Never mind, I can't take this a second longer, ANY spell will have to do -
*BLURB!*

Whew - it seems to have helped a little, now I can sort of watch myself from
the outside and I see a highly renowned wizard struggling to overcome a severe
phobia of some kind - indeed, it would be strange if a master wizard couldn't
simply cast away a phobia using magic...

Wait a minute, there was something about a logical paradox about a barber who
shaves everyone who doesn't shave himself, but who shaves the barber then? 
Maybe my (hey, I am a clone! It cannot be only mine!) predicament is of a
similar nature...

Anyway, I'd better get into touch with the local shrinks before I lose my mind
(and those of umpteen zillion other clones as well...) completely - *ZAP!*

-Welcome to the underdwarven stronghold of Free Marton, sir... [sniff?]
-Alodar the Apprentice is the name, fella, and I am a wizard suffering from
 severe claustrophobia, and I need to see a shrink urgently (hmm, looks like
 ALL people around here are somewhat shrunk - maybe this assignment will be
 exactly what the doctor ordered after all) and a hot bath with a cool shower
 and some clean clothes would not be too bad either..
-A wizard? Excellent - we are in urgent need of a new one, the previous got
 lost on a dangerous mission to the astral planes to discover the whereabouts
 of a certain Arragoth...

(A chance to leave this damp hole and go to the astral planes - WoW! Hmm, WoW
 seems to ring a bell... And Arragoth - that seems to ring a bell as well...)

-All right fella, I'll take the job! Now just take me to your most renowned
 shrink and I'll be fit for fight again (I hope...)

[42 shrinks later]

-Thank you for your help, fellas! So this is your magic college - not too bad
 for a dank underworld cavern like this - er, no offense intended...
-Good bye for now, wizard Alodar, and good luck! And remember the mantra you
 should recite in case the old feelings surface [OOPS!] again - "I do not look
 like a plate of spaghetti with meatballs."
-Thank you again, fellas! After all the help you have given me I am now more
 determined than ever to finally get my hands on that old foe Arragoth II!

OK, here we seem to have the library... This looks surprisingly well stocked
for such a dank underworld cavern ("I do NOT look like a plate of spaghetti
with meatballs.") - now where do I start... Hmm, this title looks promising:

"A Short Introduction to the Foundations of Magick in the Lands of Arragoth".

"A short introduction" - that sounds good! I like them short and snappy - wait,
what says the fine print...

"Volume I of XLII"...

*sigh* Now where did I put my glasses...

[PS. Footnote for the acronymically challenged: GIGO = Garbage In, Garbage Out]

Contact Alodar the Apprentice at rwikman@ra.abo.fi

PLAYER 10 - Rathnagz

I, Rathnagz, awake..."

Minotaur Hordes of Rathnagz

	Arragoth has been defeated! Now is the time for us to rebuild and reestablish our once mighty empire.

The City of Fort

Welcome to Fort, see our Kobolds toiling in the fields to produce our grain,
see them hauling blocks of granite to our construction sites
and see them pumping the bellows of the great smelters that render down the
ore into iron.

We horned folk are striving to rebuild our once mighty empire, reduced as it was by our long conflict with the minions of Arragoth.

Bolthax the Massive

Statues are being constructed to honour Bolthax the Massive our greatest hero.
The center of Fort features the largest statue to Bolthax ever created, it stands a full 12 heights tall and shows the Massive one locked in battle with the mortal manifestation of Arragoth.

Milk mothers wept with joy for many moons on hearing the news of the slaughter ofArragoth, tears turned to despair though when it was told to them that Bolthax the Mighty had received mortal wounds in this fight.

Our saviour will not be forgotten!

---

War!

The armies of Fort are mobilising, we are happy to ally with any like minded peoples.
Rest assured that we will be only to happy to go to war with those that oppose us though!

Arragoth will rise again, so say the divinations!
We of the Minotaur folk of Fort, and any who are willing to stand with us will fight to the last calf!

---

Send Messengers

We seek trade, we have Iron and Stone in abundance!

We also seek comrades in arms.

Contact us at our embassy
or use magickal methods to spirit talk with the Great Bull Rathnagz.

Contact Rathnagz at rob6@newcombe6.fsworld.co.uk

---

PLAYER 11 - Hazaar

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Hazaar at jhenson@calpoly.edu

---

PLAYER 12 - Jet'tovok

No Blurb Submitted As Yet.

Contact Jet'tovok at gigazap@aol.com

---

PLAYER 13 - Jubba the Mad

HA!
.......
yes, ahhh?
.......
grim? no no no no....
......
what are they have being told...NO!  No!  no! no n......
......
Who?  who is there? am I speaking?  with voiced blandishments and eyes of
grass?
......
GO AWAY!! NO!  I will not, the blood it sickens me, the blood I love it, to
see it dribble, I love it, I love it, I will kill again...
......
Are you here in my head to torment me?  Why, why why why.....  They die so
easily, so quietly, they love it, I love it....   Are you the voice?  of
Arragoth? 
......
Speaks to me he does, the pain OH THE PAIN oh the pain pain pain PAIN PAIN
PAIN....  he makes the pain stop NO HE BRINGS THE PAIN no he makes it stop
he is my friend my only friend he tells the truth I will kill for him...and
eat.
.....
Please you are he don't hurt me I OBEY! I say not...the green and the
yellow, they slide to left and right, the horses are best... fairies, they
fly, I fly, but I do not talk in my head, he talks, you talk WHO ARE YOU!
WHO ARE YOU! WHO ARE YOU! .......who am I? I...........know not.
.....
I eat it! yes, ha ha! that I drink it and love it, yes, NO I HATE IT WILL I
NOT WAKE FROM THIS NIGHTMARE, PLEASE GOD, WILL I NOT DIE?
........Blood.....and icor....it stains me, my chin, my face, my chest, my
throne, my.....soul.  God will not come for me, for I am damned. Only
Arragoth will come for me, only he will stop the pain, the pain, The Pain
THE PAIN that Burns Me LIke FiRe AnD CLaWS AT MY REASON! MY MIND AND SOUL!!
AHHHHHH!!! MY MIND AND SOUL!! AHHHHH! AHHHHH!
AHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhh.h.h.h.....h......h.....
.....
A man came.  He said he would stop the pain. HE LIED, HE LIED TO YOU!  He
said he had lead the Dervish people in another world, another place. THERE
IS NO OTHER PLACE, HE LIED! HE IS THE SNAKE! THE VIPER! He said that
Arragoth had fled that place, that the people had fought, and won.... NO!
NO! HE LIED! YOU ARE A FOOL!  I...am not YES!  no....there was a time, a
dream NO! THERE WAS NO SUCH PLACE! where I had no pain THERE IS ALWAYS PAIN,
HE STOPS THE PAIN! ONLY HIM! and...my people YOUR FOOD! my people surrounded
me THEY HATED YOU! and praised me THEY CURSED YOUR NAME! and I had
a...family...and...and...it...NO! THERE WAS ONLY PAIN! PAIN UNTIL ARRAGOTH
CAME!! IF ARRAGOTH DIES, THERE WILL BE MORE PAIN.  NOTHING BUT PAIN!
.....
Yes NO yes.  I......remember. NO! Arragoth hides the pain,
N....YESSSSSSssssssss....... he helps me and loves me, I love it, to eat and
drink, the family they were evil they brought the pain, NO, HE BROUGHT THE
PAIN yes NO yes NOOOO! yes yes! Arragoth came and saved me I ate them yes
GOD HELP ME I ATE THEM I ate them all, I licked their fluids from my table,
I CARVED THEIR FLESH, the babies were GOD HELP ME! best, so tender GOD HELP
ME! and full of blood GOD HELP ME STOP! and fluid and...and...NO! THE
MEMORIES THEY BURN! NO! ...I grew.....I grew....fat.
.....
Why?  To stop the pain PAIN pain.  Arragoth showed me the way.  With every
bite, relief, with every limb, an hour of peace, a feast for a night of
oblivion...... What of the man who came? HE LIED! I....had him taken. HE
LIED!  I......cooked him. YES! Finger by finger, limb by limb, pate from his
liver, sausages from his gut.... Dead? no, by magic did I make him live, to
watch as I cooked and seasoned each morsel of his flesh and supped upon it,
carefully I drained his blood, goblet by goblet, each a vintage year... 
.....
He was the first HE LIED! YOU DID RIGHT! but more filled my table, it
groaned with the weight while man and sky played...they...played ha! they
slithered I saw this! this! NO, not a wink or nodding cat ran raining
from....from....from........
.....
But food is scarce....few come to my table....my pain PAIN pain grows, and
he speaks to me in tongues of FIRE across my brain.
I...MUST...HAVE...MORE...FOOD! 
.....
You know YES! THEY LIE! you know and hide YES, THEY HIDE IT FROM YOU! my
food, I must have it YOU WILL HAVE IT!!!
.....
I will find the food I PROMISE YOU! I will find it...and I will eat. I love
it I HATE IT OH GOD I LOVE IT!  
.....
You will not stop me THEY WILL TRY! THEY WILL TRY! You will not stop me.
.....
You WILL NOT stop me.
.....
WHO AM I?
.....
I......do......not know
.....
WHO AM I?!?
.....
I....forget....I....am.....
.....
WHO.....AM.....I !!?!!
.....
.....
.....
I...am...Jubba.   
.....
I am Jubba the Mad.  
....
And now I am coming to kill you all.

Contact Jubba the Mad at warren.mcintosh@linklaters.com

---

PLAYER 14 - Balar

	Hail all the power of our Mighty Rune

Behold the Orcs of Gra Fauk!! "As the conversation carries on, and the drinks are passed around, the tavern fills with all manner of folk seeking refuge from the raging storm outside. Although the two burning hearths do well to light up much of the main room, there remains a shadowy corner sheltered by the protruding stonework of the nearby wall. There is always at least one shadowy corner in a tavern. From this abyss steps forth a mysterious figure cloaked in black, hood completely masking his features, yet everyone at once turns to see that it must be a Orc... this they can tell from the figure's build as well as the manner in which it presents himself, its powerful stride. "br>

	BALAR Chieftain of ALL ORCS
Balar the Strong His gaze sweeps the entire room once more to meet every pair of eyes, many of which he knows well, and in which he too senses a bit of recognition. They need not see his face to know who this man is, they need only be in his presence, to feel his dark aura. He nods slowly, then reaches up to draw back his black hood, revealing an unfamiliar Orc face, yet complete with his familiar wicked grin.

"Greetings my fellow beings of Arragoth," comes his deep, familiar voice through the warm air. "I recognize some of you from another dimension," a nod to TYM, "others I have known since my entry to the Realms a good while back. Have you taken up the trappings of a bard, Jarrom? Or have you yet to decide what instruments will suit you in the lands yet to come into existence: those of beauty or of death? You have some talent in tale-telling, I hope you will continue to develop it even if you decide to wield death's implements in these lands." "Rakash, such a long journey you have made to be at my side once more. Ah, not for that reason I think, but yet here we meet again... do you believe in fate, my dear? How do our brethren fare in the dimension we have both sought refuge from, do they please The Gods still? How I do miss brother L'vanon, may his spirit be with us still. I would be delighted if he were able to join us here, we would be able to take worlds together, and with nothing more than our words. Feel free to come closer my dear, to seize my attention as well as my coin. I'm feeling a bit generous today, and besides I do not carry much of my wealth on my person, but I know how you so love the capture as much as the treasure you gain."

"The rest of you I will continue to observe, and eventually know through our discussions here. I would be glad to be of service, if any of you are in need of assistance, or just someone to discuss the mysteries of the multiverse with. Beware, though, I am not to be taken lightly, nor trusted with your lives. I give this as fair warning now and there will not be any further. Become a friend to me, and you will be greatly rewarded even long after my departure. Become to me an enemy, and it will be your departure that is painfully swift, and fruitless."

His wicked grin gracing his lips once more, he draws the hood back over his features and steps back into his personal abyss. From that moment on, the room was never quite the same, even though it was exactly as it had been before anyone was aware of his presence. Everyone still had the lingering feeling that his eyes were upon them, that their words reached his delicate ears, that their very thoughts were read as an open book to him. Indeed, Balar, the Orcish Angel of Death had descended upon them all.

The Orcs of Gra Fauk are willing to work with everyone! EXCEPT that mad thing Jubba!!!!!! HE will die like the animal he is!

Behold the Mighty Homeland of the Orcs of Gra Fauk!!

Behold the Mighty Docks of the Orcs of Gra Fauk!!

Remember the words of Balar! Work with us or you are against us! Contact Balar at eqfriend@yahoo.com Off to WOW Game Status Page. Sponsor