Blurb175om2
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<p><font size=+1>The Hut</font></center>
<p>The name my mother game to me on the day of my birth doesn't matter
any more.
<p>
<br>
What I once was is gone, and my former life is destroyed. I brought
death and destruction to my friends and to the ones I loved, and this
because
of one single man, a man whose name I still don't know after years of
desperate
search.
<p>
<br>
I write down the story of what happened to me as a young woman as I
hope that someone reading this report will recognize him, and will tell
me his name, where he lives, what has become out of him. I will reward
this person with treasures beyond his imagination, jewelery, books of
wisdom,
land, what ever he desires. This man has to be found, and punished for
what he has done to my family, to my friends, to me.
<p>
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<br>
As a girl I lost my parents and lived with an old aunt of my mother,
who was a sorceress and the healer of her village. She showed me all she
knew, teached me how to find all what was needed to make powerful
medicine
and how to cure men and animals. Thanks to aunt Elowain I know some
spells
most wizards would call ‚minor', but they are nevertheless quite useful
in daily life or to inspire trust into my powers. I was given the
ability
to understand the language spoken by some animals, so I fluently speak
the language of the cat and the bear, and know a little bit of the
raven's
and the snake's language.
<p>
<br>
When I was about 19, aunt Elowain died and I decided to wander around
for some time, to learn more of the world than what I had seen until
then.
For three years, I offered my abilities to people in the capital of our
land or to charcoal-burners in their lonesome huts deep in the forest,
to the young and the old ones, to to rich and to the poor. Of course I
always worked as a midwife, too, trying to help to endure the agony of
giving life.
<p>
<br>
Then, after a long hard winter I had spent in the mountains I came to
a fertile valley where was located a big estate with dozens of people
working
there and several small villages nearby. They planted corn and lots of
different vegetables and fruits, rose cattle and were famous for their
horses and their beer. The mountains and forests nearby offered a
plentitude
of medicinal herbes, berries, mushrooms and minerals I needed for my
work.
I fell in love with the place at once.
<p>
<br>
But not only with the place - the stewart of the estate was an earnest,
intelligent and very humerous young man, able to make his flute sound
like
the most wonderful birds or the chants of the elves, and in autumn we
married.
<p>
<br>
One year later our little daughter was born and life seemed to be
perfect,
having given me just the place where I belonged.
<p>
<br>
Then, one icy night in January, somebody knocked at our door claiming
for a midwife. I rose quickly, and slipped into my fur, and asked one of
the grooms to saddle my horse at once.
<p>
<br>
A white-haired man stood before my door, wearing a black armour, a
longsword
at his side, ice clinging in his black eyebrows and in his mustache.
‚<font color="#666666">Come
with me at once</font>' he told me without looking at me, rushing
towards
his horse and jumping upon ist saddle. I grabbed my bag of medical tools
and ingredients, and tried to follow him. I've never ridden like this
again.
The snow storm at once made my face and my hands numb, and the crystals
hitting my eyes blinded me completely. It was only due to my horse that
I arrived at the place where I should find my patient.
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<br>
We arrived in a small hut next to a quarry where the workers had kept
their tools, without any fireplace, awfully dirty and offering nothing
but little protection against the wind and the snowstorm.
<p>
<br>
A woman pale like the snow outside was lying on some blankets, covered
with a fur coat. Her hair was the colour of the wings of a raven and her
noble face was disfigured by some bruises. I knelt next to her and felt
her pulse, and for a moment
I thought that she was dead. But then she opened eyes of the green of
fir-woods
in summer and her mouth as to utter a word. Then she became aware of the
man behind me and stayed silent.
<p>
<br>
‚<font color="#666666">My daughter and the child have to be
alive</font>'
said the man, and it was clear that if the outcome of my efforts
wouldn't
satisfy him I would have to suffer the consequences.
<p>
<br>
I was desperate. I hardly ever had seen a woman that fragile and that
weak before, and her belly was enormous, the child inside moving
fervently.
She had had labour-pains for more than a day now, and had lost a lot of
blood. I needed light and warmth, and told him so. He looked at me
coldly
and then murmured some words, and a light colour of the moonlight, but
bright like the sun filled the place. The women clenched her teeth, but
couldn't help uttering a cry of agony. When he again uttered some words
and a yellowish ball of radiating heat started to float over our head,
her chin went
uncontrollably up and down, her eyes flickered and she clenched to my
arm
with that much strength I nearly fell upon her.
<p>
<br>
‚<font color="#006600">No magic light and warmth</font>!' I cried out,
as it was obvious what tortured her. With a furious cry, he cut short
his
spells. ‚<font color="#666666">Then you'll have no light and no
warmth</font>'
he said cooly.
<br>
<br>
I started to protest, but he fell silent and leaned his back against
the door. The woman again opened her eyes, a plea inside which I tried
to understand, but was unable to. It was more than the normal longing
women
express to finally end the pain, the uncertainty, the fear. Most women
are aware of the fact that giving life to a child may mean dying. But
never
I saw such fear and such desperation - without a single word being
pronounced.
<p>
<br>
I lit some of the candles I always have in my bag and arranged her own
and my fur that way that most of her body was covered against the cold.
<p>
<br>
I tried to help at my best. But all was in vain. When I applied herbes
to stauch the blood, it flooded even more. The mushrooms normally easing
the pain only made her ache harder. Her belly seemed to revolt against
what was inside, not willing to let it out. And what was inside seemed
willing to tear her into pieces to finally see the world outside.
<p>
<br>
She died before the baby was born, and finally, dead, her tortured body
relaxed. With her last breath she murmured the first and last two words
I heard from her, and she only looked at me, not at the man behind her,
when she whispered ,<font color="#CC6600">Kill
it</font>'. I knew that she was right, and nevertheless I was not
willing
to do it.
<p>
<br>
I took my mithril scalpel and carefully cut into her womb, doing what
the child had been willing to do. After I had opened the uterus and
touched
the child for the first time, ready to draw it out, I felt sharp pain.
Little teeth had biten me, a fist appeared and rose of the bloody hole
which once was the belly of a wonderful woman. A flash of images shot
through
my head, images of death and destruction, of war, plagues, hunger and
despair.
I fumbled for my scalpel again.
<p>
<br>
Suddenly the old man stood besides me. ‚<font color="#666666">Give me
the child</font>' he ordered. I rose, my scalpel in my hand. ‚<font
color="#006600">Your
daughter has got a monster in her belly. It killed her, although she is
its mother. You better leave it where it is.</font>'
<p>
<br>
He snarled ‚<font color="#666666">Give me my grand-son</font>'. I
stumbled
backwards. I simply couldn't touch this child again. If already this
short
touch of his teeth already had given me this visions of death, what
might
his mother have endured? She knew what was inside her, and she had tried
to be the coffin of her own child instead of giving life to it. I was
shaking.
I knew what had to be done, and nevertheless my aversion against it made
my head numb and my fingers unable to move.
<p>
<br>
An eternity seemed to pass. A bloody arm reached outside, one foot.
‚<font color="#006600">It wants to live. Wash your hands in the snow
outside
carefully and give me the sheets over there in my bag. You don't want
the
child to die of an infection, do you?</font>' I finally said. He smiled
disdainfully, but took of his leather gaunts and turned away to the door
to do what I had asked him. As soon as the wind had jammed shut the door
behind him, I took the gaunts, slipped my hands inside and grasped the
child. I let it fell onto its mother's breast as I had never seen
something that horrid before. I was not sure at all
if there was something human in this ‚child', but I was sure that it
must
not life. Ist claws tried to tear off the umbilical cord still
connecting
it with what once was its mother. It seemed like tied to a chain, the
only
chain keeping it back from really entering that world. With a scream I
thrust my scalpel into its heart, and jumped back.
<p>
<br>
It didn't die at once. It fought for its life, but although it surely
was something incredibly magic and evil, it still was a newborn - and
tied
to the dead woman who, probably having been a mighty wizardess didn't
loose
her grasp upon it even now.
<p>
<br>
The old wizard rushed in. He took his sword, and I was sure that I would
die now, but he did what his grand-son hadn't managed to do - he cut the
umbilical cord off. But it was too late. The monster was lying there,
stained
with the red blood of his mother and its own purple one.
<p>
<br>
The man took the child with his bare hands and raised it to his face
to kiss it. Then he screamed like a banshee, and I finally moved. Out,
out into the snow, to my horse, on its back and away, far away as
quickly
as possible. I had left my fur inside, my bag, everything. I do not know
how I came home, I owe my life to my horse.
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<br>
I was ill for months. When I could get out of my bed again, my daughter
already walked better than I did. only her joyful laughter and the songs
of the flute could push back the nightmare always hauting me day and
night.
<p
<br>
>Only next spring, more than one year after what has happened, I finally
was able to do my normal work again. One wonderful summer day in april
I went out for the first time into the forest to collect the first
flowers
of the year for potions and ointments.
<p>
<br>
I came back in the evening, walking light-heartedly towards my home.
Finally I felt that I could drive back the dark cloud floating in my
mind
all the time. But there were two sunsets at the horizon - the sun
was setting in the west, but its glow seemed pale against the glow of a
huge fire in the south. The estate, all the homes, stables, barns were
in flames.
<p
<br>
I ran. I came too late. They were all dead. The flute was broken, I
never would hear the laughter of my daughter again.
<br>
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<center>
<p><img SRC="
http://home.t-online.de/home/320031653171-0001/TwoSnakes2.jpg "
height=205 width=188>
<p><font size=+1>The Well</font></center>
<p>I was sitting between the remainings of my home, my head buried
between
my knees, unable to think or even to feel. I felt numbness in my head
and
my soul. I can't tell for how long I have been sitting there when I
heard
the footsteps of a horse, which came to a halt just before me. Slowly I
looked up and noticed a black horse standing before me, on its back the
old wizard. He looked at me without an expression in his face or his
eyes
and only said one magic word, enough to break my low resistence against
what ever might happen and I fell deep...loosing conscience, falling
into
a dark hollow pit inside my mind.
<p>
<br>
I awoke laying in the dark, on a hard, wet floor. There was no sound
except dripping water and a sharp wizzling. It smelled foul, rotting. I
stiffily sit up, my back wet and cold and I was shivering all over. I
couldn't
see anything, and feeled an intense pain inside my head. I fumbled my
pockets
and found my glass vial inside I use to conserve the essence of the
light
of glow-worms. I activated it and in the green fluorescent light I could
distinguish a floor covered with pieces of old, mouldy clothes, rusted
metal, and...human bones with still some flesh. It was a circular room,
built out of boulders of limestone, hardly five feet of diametre and
that
high that I couldn't see the ceiling. What was it? A prison? No, the
sound
of water told me what it once had been. An old well, now fallen dry and
probably used to let the poor enemies of the old wizard starve to death.
<p>
<br>
I tried to find out the depth of my prison by casting a float spell
upon my vial and by raising it slowly up the walls in a spiral to find
something helping me to get out of here. My little light had reached
about
30 feet when suddenly it was reflected by something which seemed to
move.
I concentrated to make my light brighter, and I saw a sort of dark cloud
sealing the well, whirling and producing the sharp sound I had noticed
right after awakening from my unconsciousness. I tried to enlighten the
thing, but when my vial touched it, it extinguished my little light and
cut off my float spell. The glass shattered somewhere on the stone. What
was this strange cloud? It floated above me like a nightmare, oppressed
me, seemed to intrude my head, influenced my feelings, paralysed my
instinct.
And somehow I had the impression that it didn't only cut off the fresh
air, but filled the air with wicked thoughts, with torture and pain.
Wasn't
that cloud the key to my prison? It might explain the misery which had
come over me. I sat down, emptied my mind, and opened it to the cloud.
<p>...
<br>
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</body>
</html>
</PRE><P>
Contact Ombra Mefita at <a href="mailto:anja.heller-kemp@t-online.de">anja.heller-kemp@t-online.de</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player06"></A><H3> PLAYER 6 - <A HREF="#Table">Lord Araxus</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</pre>
<table border="0" width="100%" cellspacing="0"
background="http://www.speakeasy.org/~araxus/wow/51/moss.jpg"
cellpadding="5" BORDER = 0>
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="4"><h1> </h1>
<h1 align="center"><font color="#FFFFFF">
<u><b>The Highlanders of Heaven's Rise</b></u></font></h1>
<p align="center">
<img border="0" width="518" height="51"
src="http://www.speakeasy.org/~araxus/wow/51/aleabanr.gif">
<hr>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="20%">
<p align="center"><font size="2" color="#FFFFFF">
<img border="0" width="161" height="450"
src="http://www.speakeasy.org/~araxus/wow/51/dragons.gif"></font>
</td>
<td width="80%" valign="top" align="justify" colspan="3">
<h2 align="left"><font color="#FFFFFF"><b>The
People</b></font></h2>
<p align="left"><font color="#FFFFFF" size="2">Ruled by his
Eminence, Lord Araxus the Paragon of Light, the Highlanders
of Heaven's Rise inhabit the lofty and heavenly abode that is
the Astral Plane. It is a pleasant life lived in absolute
harmony and bliss; that is of course until the arrival of the
forces of Chaos which have recently plagued the expanses of
the
Astral Plane. While naturally all souls are deemed worthy of
salvation, early contact with these vile forces has unerringly
ended bloodily upon every occassion. Envoys and diplomats
dispatched to ascertain the goals and intent of these dark
forces have likewise failed to return. Burdened with this
foreknowledge, Lord Araxus has considered long and hard the
alternatives if such clear forces of evil are left out of
check. So with heavy hearts but iron wills for the duty they
must bear, the people of Heaven's Rise are mobilizing for the
inevitable conflicts which will surely come with the rising
tide of Chaos.</font><h3></h3>
<h3 align="left"><font color="#FFFFFF"><b>The
History</b></font></h3>
<p align="left"><font color="#FFFFFF" size="2">Originally a
nomadic
hill-fairing clan, the ancestors of Heaven's Rise pursued a
near fanatical devotion to the Creator, serving his
interests in everything they did. Their continual quest
for piety and religious ascension led them to subsequently
make their way towards the Astral Plane in order to achieve
a closer existance with the Creator in the heavens
above.</font>
<p align="left"><font color="#FFFFFF" size="2">Deeply spiritual,
while at first apprehensive towards outsiders, early mistrusts
can be overcome with the Heaven's Rise Highlanders if the
outsiders share a similar respect for the Creator and his
works.</font></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="4">
<p align="center">
<img border="0" width="508" height="27"
src="http://www.speakeasy.org/~araxus/wow/51/bar2.gif">
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="78%" colspan="2">
<center><h4 align="center"><font color="#FFFFFF">
<b><u>The Guardianship</u></b></font></h4></center>
<p align="left"><font size="2" color="#FFFFFF">From high
above in the Astral Plane, the Highlanders of Heaven's
Rise have maintained vigorous vigilance in service to
the greater glory of the Creator throughout the ages.
Ever wary of evil, it is said that when the northern
lights appear in the night sky, the Highlanders will
descend in a blaze of holy fury to smite the wicked.</font>
</td>
<td width="20%" valign="middle" align="center">
<img border="0" width="160" height="129" align="right"
src="http://www.speakeasy.org/~araxus/wow/51/northwatch.jpg">
</td>
<td width="2%" valign="middle" align="center">
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="4">
<p align="center">
<img border="0" width="400" height="20"
src="http://www.speakeasy.org/~araxus/wow/51/minibar.gif">
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="4">
<h5></h5><center><h4 align="center"><font color="#FFFFFF"><b>
<img border="0" align="left" width="160" height="150"
src="http://www.speakeasy.org/~araxus/wow/51/ice_drakes.jpg">
<u>The Preparation</u></b></font></h4></center>
<p align="left"><font size="2" color="#FFFFFF">The northern
lights have appeared now in the night skies, and the
ancient winged drakes of the Astral awaken from their
slumber to wield the Will of the Creator. Beware those
of evil heart, for thy end is at hand...</font><h6></h6></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="4">
<p align="right">
<img border="0" align="absmiddle" width="16" height="16"
src="http://www.speakeasy.org/~araxus/wow/51/msg.gif">
<A HREF="mailto:jeffv@microsoft.com">
<font size="1" color="#FFFFFF">jeffv@microsoft.com</font></A>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<pre>
</PRE><P>
Contact Lord Araxus at <a href="mailto:jeffv@microsoft.com">jeffv@microsoft.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player07"></A><H3> PLAYER 7 - <A HREF="#Table">Valerien</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</PRE>
<TABLE BORDER=5>
<TR>
<TD ALIGN=LEFT>
<DIR>
<BR><BR>
<H1>
<P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#80FF00">
<CENTER>
<STRONG>Valerien's Report on the Ogres of Distarc</STRONG>
<IMG SRC="http://www.microsoft.com/gallery/images/snow.GIF" WIDTH=42
HEIGHT=42>
</CENTER>
</FONT>
</P>
</H1>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H2>Once Again:</H2>
<DIR>
<P>
A bright flash of light ripped through the night, revealing the surrounding
towers of rock and rolling hills. Quickly Valerien stepped through the
portal
and took in his new surroundings with a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes.
While he had run into some hard times on previous worlds, perhaps this
world
was meant to receive him with more open arms than the last few.
</P><P>
The Ogre armies of the Wizard Valerien poured forth from the mines deep in
the underworld
of Distarc. Their endless years in isolation far beneath the surface of
the
world had been both a blessing and a curse for these Ogres. The isolation
had resulted in
a strong case of xenophobia among the population. However, the positive
was that the Ogres
had enjoyed a prosperous state of peace within which to develop and refine
their economy and
military. However, that military was a bit soft around the edges, having
no one against whom
they could practice their tradecraft except each other. The Warlord
General Grak'lanus was
now responsible for turning the soft bellies Ogres into the fiercing
fighting force it once
had been.
</P><P>
Hark, my noble Ogres. Come to me and bask in the radiance of my power, for
I have led
less qualified people than yourselves to know the feel of their enemies
crunching
underneath their boots. Now you too shall revel in our enemies' misery.
You and you
alone on this world have earned the right, slaving away beneath the earth
to forge yourselves
into the mighty army I see before myself today. And even more fearsome
will you be after
my firm tutelage takes its hold on you. Soon we will march, and the world
does tremble at
our coming.
</P><P>
Valerien ordered his legions to task, constructing the various tools and
weapons
that would lead to their return to the world. He called upon the mystical
energies of the underworld to bathe his minions in supernatural armor. He
bends both the
good and evil spirits to his will and unleashes them upon his foes, so that
they sleep
fitfully and cower in the corners of their houses, trembling, during the
day. They see and
feel their demise on the horizon, and the most they can pray for is that it
will end quickly.
And even that is unlikely.
</P><P>
Valerien surveyed the Capitol that was beginning to emerge. The Ogres,
when driven,
appeared to be incredible laborers. Buildings were popping up in
incredibly
short periods of time. Across the city, young Ogres who had taken up the
sword and bow
in preparation for their Wizard's arrival, marched and trained vigorously.
What other military
forces the mighty Ogres could assemble would be discovered in time, when
military might
became a more significant and relevant factor. A plan was beginning to
come together.. How
it might turn out was anybody's guess.
</P
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P><CENTER><HR></CENTER></P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H3>The First Waves</H3>
<DIR>
<P>
Waves of Scouts were immediately sent off to the neighboring lands, in
search of a link to
the surface, where lay fertile soil for growing the crops and the majestic
forests needed to
sustain a bustling economy and growing army. In addition, prospectors were
ordered to comb the
nearby Underworld regions to begin mining the precious minerals and gems
that lie within the
surface of the world. What lies around us is unknown, for our civilization
has not expanded
beyond this remote region - so long locked away from the rest of the world.
Grak'nul, Bubblespit, Malodorous and Luk'nazar will lead the scouting
parties in the four
directions. May their search be blessed by the spirits.
</P>
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P><CENTER><HR></CENTER></P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H3>Diplomacy</H3>
<DIR>
<P>
Ahh.. Diplomacy. Something which my Ogre folk appear to know nothing
about. Even their great
"Diplomat", Jul Kar Uggok, is better known for feasting upon those who come
to visit him than
listening to them. This will have to change. The world no longer can
tolerate a species willing
to "go it alone". We must seek out our fellow Ogre and other outcast
brethren. In unity we can
strive to bring the world back to a place where all are accepted and can
live in prosperity. I have
sent emissaries to the corners of the kingdom, in the hopes that they can
be successful in opening
discussions with our neighbors. Who knows what sorts of people we shall
find in our proximity.
If you wish to work with us in any capacity, we would be happy to talk to
you.
</P>
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P><CENTER><HR></CENTER></P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H4>Magick</H4>
<DIR>
<P>
Most important of all to Valerien was the state of magical research in
these
lands. It appeared that everything that had been developed on a previous
world
had been forgotten, and must be begun anew. Seeing this, Valerien called
his
Master Builders, Tweedle and Twiddle, and ordered the construction of vast
libraries and
gathering places for those inclined to the mystical arts. Magic is what
wins
the wars, my friend. Mighty armies without magic to back them up are but
stalks of grass against an army bolstered by the powerful magicks I have
seen. Unfortunately,
the magical arts were another Ogre failing. But one mighty Shaman was
found among the ruins,
and this powerful spirit-caller, Hulandi, was recruited to lead the way.
Those who are
capable of assisting in the research of magick will be well rewarded.
</P>
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P><CENTER><HR></CENTER></P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H4>Alliances</H4>
<DIR>
<P>
Alliances are the key to success. We will do whatever we can to foster
alliances, but only
with those who believe as we do. There is no room for backstabbing on a
world such as this.
The Ogres, who were content to sit back and watch the first major War that
rocked the world,
found it remarkable that species were so able to say one thing and yet do
another. Even
willing to call someone a friend one day and then the next stab them in the
back. Truly amazing.
Ogres are steadfast allies. They do not cower from challenges, nor do they
invite trouble by
turning upon those whom would put trust in them. Perhaps because it is
just that they are
too slow-witted to come up with any plans clever enough to take advantage
of such an action.. but
regardless, it's the same result in the end, is it not?
</P>
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P><CENTER><HR></CENTER></P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H4>Armies</H4>
<DIR>
<P>
My leaders obviously have been born in a land rich with an alcoholic
heritage.
Smirnoff, Tangerui, Meyers, Kahlua, Grenadine, Vodka and many of my other
leaders are off recruiting other Heroes to our banner. We're currently
accepting resumes for spellcasting and research-capable heroes. Please
apply at the capitol.
Enemy Rogues, Spies, Thieves and Saboteurs are not allowed to apply, and
will be
prosecuted to the full extent of the law should they be detected in the
capitol.
In fact, they will most likely be exterminated in a rather gruesome
fashion, lasting
several days. The gnomes love misery, and nothing is more pleasurable than
watching
some poor fool thief slowly drip his life away over a month's time, howling
in despair,
pain and misery the entire time, until at last his lungs burst and his
cries turn
silent.
</P>
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P ALIGN="RIGHT">
<A HREF="mailto:jay.griffiths@expeditors.com?subject=WoW, attn: Valerien">
<I>
<H6>
Contact Valerien
</H6>
</I>
</A>
</P>
</DIR>
</TD>
</TR>
</TABLE>
<PRE>
</PRE><P>
Contact Valerien at <a href="mailto:jay.griffiths@expeditors.com">jay.griffiths@expeditors.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player08"></A><H3> PLAYER 8 - <A HREF="#Table">Tyranthraxus</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="1" width="98%"
bgcolor="#808080">
<tr>
<td width="100%"><font color="#000000"
face="Comic Sans MS">I'm Tyranthraxus of the Ogres…<br>
<br>
I live in the Great town Bombas…<br>
<br>
I will end my slaves to grow my empire…<br>
<br>
Be our friend or beware of my army…</font><p><img
src="http://hem.passagen.se/gor/WoW/ogremale.jpg"
hspace="5" vspace="5" width="233" height="175"></p>
<p><font color="#400000" face="Arial"><strong>Ogres
are</strong>:</font></p>
<ul type="disc">
<li><font color="#400000" face="Arial">Are
frighteningly ugly</font></li>
<li><font color="#400000" face="Arial">Take horrid
insults a complements</font></li>
<li><font color="#400000" face="Arial">Smell as bad
as stormwings</font></li>
<li><font color="#400000" face="Arial">Are very large</font></li>
<li><font color="#400000" face="Arial">have ugly
contests</font></li>
<li><font color="#400000" face="Arial">think that
skin that looks like mush is beautiful</font></li>
<li><font color="#400000" face="Arial">physical pain
is a sign of affection to them</font></li>
<li><font color="#400000" face="Arial">speak in
indistinguishable rhymes</font></li>
<li><font color="#400000" face="Arial">stop speaking
inrhymes once respect is gained.</font></li>
<li><font color="#400000" face="Arial">only crunch
the ignorant</font></li>
<li><font color="#400000" face="Arial">all of their
disgusting manner is a mask, once you respect
them they appear as they truly are and are really
quite civilized</font><font color="#400000">.</font></li>
</ul>
<p><img
src="http://hem.passagen.se/gor/WoW/ogrefemale.jpg"
hspace="5" vspace="5" width="233" height="175"></p>
<ul type="disc">
<li><font color="#0000FF">With our hammers we
building great buildings...</font></li>
<li><font color="#0000FF">With our pickaxes we
extract ore...</font></li>
<li><font color="#0000FF">With our weapon we kill our
enemy</font></li>
<li><font color="#0000FF">With my brain <strong>I</strong>
will plan for my <u>victory</u> :=)</font></li>
</ul>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
_________________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Get your free @yahoo.com address at http://mail.yahoo.com
</PRE><P>
Contact Tyranthraxus at <a href="mailto:gor@passagen.se">gor@passagen.se</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player09"></A><H3> PLAYER 9 - <A HREF="#Table">Rathnagz</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
</PRE><P>
Contact Rathnagz at <a href="mailto:rob6@newcombe6.fsworld.co.uk">rob6@newcombe6.fsworld.co.uk</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player10"></A><H3> PLAYER 10 - <A HREF="#Table">Morrigane the Dark Witch</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
</PRE><P>
Contact Morrigane the Dark Witch at <a href="mailto:krakken@eresmas.com">krakken@eresmas.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player11"></A><H3> PLAYER 11 - <A HREF="#Table">Moonface the Cruel</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</PRE>
<TABLE BORDER=5>
<TR>
<TD ALIGN=LEFT>
<DIR>
<BR><BR>
<H1>
<P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#80FF00">
<CENTER>
<STRONG>Moonface the Cruel and the Great Game - A Bedtime Story for Wizards
of All Ages...</STRONG>
<IMG SRC="http://www.microsoft.com/gallery/images/snow.GIF" WIDTH=42
HEIGHT=42>
</CENTER>
</FONT>
</P>
</H1>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H2>I am Moonface</H2>
<DIR>
<P>
Moonface the Cruel to some. I stand, a navigator of destinies, amongst the
shifting dunes of the Great Western Desert, on the Isle of Mooncrest, in the
world of Shadowmouth. Wizards fought here once before. I sense it. Their
destinies resonate through time, affecting, albeit so subtly, the destinies
of those wizards who have again come to test their fortunes (and those of
their minions) in the Great Game. Some have existed on this plane before.
Some will exist here again.
</P><P>
Why do they come? Some for the thrill of the Great Game. Some to sate
their obscene lusts - for power, for killing, for glory, for praise. Some
for revenge, some for adventure. Some to lead peoples and causes to which
they feel an affinity to 'victory', in whatever form that might take. Some
are here because they are...obligated...coerced...required to be present on
this world, at this time, in this form.
</P><P>
What of Moonface? Why is he here? Willingly? Eagerly? Moonface comes
because he serves another. Moonface was until late basking in the glories
of empire on another plane, another time, another life, a Wizard-Lord of
Alustria, presiding over a mighty Gnomish empire. My dragons wheeled freely
through the skies, my heroes rode in triumph through every city, my ships
sailed the seas without fear of interception. After the trials and tests of
that conflict (and they were tests indeed), I would have been content to
rest awhile, to recoup. But it was not to be. My Master called me. True, he
praised me at first, petted me, placed new powers into my hands. He
whispered words of encouragement into my willing ears. But then he tore me
rudely from my comforts, my preening triumph, and sent me hurtling through
time and space, my former glories, titles, powers, spells, legions and
servants stripped from me, until I reached this place.
</P
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P><CENTER><HR></CENTER></P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H3>Why I am here?</H3>
<DIR>
<P>
Why? Ha! The why of it is simple, at least that part of it revealed to me.
It is because my Master wills it. It serves some further purpose of his
own. Am I sent here to fail? Am I sent here to triumph? Are the
Sandpeople who are my willing drones, their ears and hearts full of dreams
of empire, of jihad, of the burning and looting and killing of peoples and
creatures and beings uncountable, are they to rule this world? Alone, or in
the company of others? Or are they to die weeping in the ruins of their
proud city with the broken bodies of their children clutched in their arms,
as some black daemon sows death in their streets, and their saviour, their
prophet, their god come to life, flees ignominiously through his magical
gate to cower in turn before his own master, to explain away (as best he
can) the crooked lie of fate's loaded dice? Ask my Master what my purpose is
to be, for I know not.
</P>
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P><CENTER><HR></CENTER></P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H3>My Master, and his Plans</H3>
<DIR>
<P>
Who is my Master? Ho, that you will not know! A regular visitor he was to
the plane of Alustria, some of you wizards will know of his ramblings, felt
his sharp tongue and cruel judgements. But none knew him. I know not if he
will come to this world. But what a task he has set me! Alustria held a
score of wizards. But this world... so many wizards, their conflicting
destinies, their permutations, they blind me with their complexities, so
many different futures, all jostling and fighting for a place in a future of
rapidly narrowing scope. The first clash of many amongst those tangled
destinies is imminent, even now it looms through space and time, shedding
futures, dreams, desires, destinies to left and right. Who will survive it?
</P>
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P><CENTER><HR></CENTER></P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H4>Your Fate (as I see it...)</H4>
<DIR>
<P>
Well. I know not what machinations my Master puts in train. I only know
what machinations I in my turn will initiate. My trade is in destinies,
their divination, their manipulation, and ultimately their control. Your
future is my playground, my field to harvest, my laden bough to pluck as I
see fit. You will all serve me in some manner. Some of you will die. Some
of you will live. Some will fight with me, and some, no doubt, against.
Others will come to hate my name, will find me cruel. Some few will call me
true friend and ally, and those few I will jealously guard.
</P>
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P><CENTER><HR></CENTER></P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H4>Let us Begin!</H4>
<DIR>
<P>
I play a part in my Masters plan. What part will I play in yours? What part
will you play in mine? Ha! Come fellow Wizards! Rejoice! For the Great
Game is afoot once more!!
</P>
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P ALIGN="RIGHT">
<A HREF="mailto:warren.mcintosh@linklaters.com?subject=WoW, attn: Moonface">
<I>
<H6>
Contact Moonface, who some call Cruel
</H6>
</I>
</A>
</P>
</DIR>
</TD>
</TR>
</TABLE>
<PRE>
</PRE><P>
Contact Moonface the Cruel at <a href="mailto:warren.mcintosh@linklaters.com">warren.mcintosh@linklaters.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player12"></A><H3> PLAYER 12 - <A HREF="#Table">Lord Steelmind</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</pre>
<table bgcolor="#000000" border=1 bordercolor="red">
<tr><td colspan="2">
<center>
<table background="http://www.geocities.com/Area51/7278/backhead.gif"
border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=0>
<tr><td>
<h1><font color="#cccc33">Riza </font></h1>
</td>
<td>
<img src="http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Shire/8248/evilsorcerer.jpg"
width=216 height=260 alt="Lord Steelmind on his Dark Throne">
</td>
<td>
<h1><font color="#cccc33">Tribune</font></h1>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</center>
</td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2">
<table bgcolor="#000000" border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=0>
<tr><td>
<font color="#cccc33"><strong><blockquote>
<Center>The Forum of Riza</center><br>
On the forum of Riza the Minotaurs can vote for certain rights. If
something important has to be discussed the Minotaurs come to the market
place, where the current king of Riza will hold his speach and the
Minotaurs may vote. The current Minotaur king is the evil Lord Steelmind the
Black. He
was living on the elemental isles before, and when he entered there, he saw
a great mess. Now, he cleaned the mess, and the orcs are ruling the
elemental isles. Here on Shadowmoth Lord Steelmind saw a great mess in Riza.
People were terrified, and soldiers were fighting with neighbouring
minotaurs. I entered the city with magical means and took over control. My
first priority is to make allies in this unexplored and hostile land.
The next month
messengers returned, some with good news, others with more troubling news.
Well, Lord Steelmind will see how things develop around these developments.
<br>
If people are wondering how my character is, I can tell you this:<p>
I am like a fox in the dark night<br>
I am like a wolf in the bright light<p>
I am the master of Riza<br>
Come wizards, follow your heart<br>
Follow me, I am the Bard<p>
I shall entertain thee great men<br>
Believe my words, and I shall say again:<p>
I am perfect, I am wise<br>
I am black and I shall rise<p>
Any wizard who wants to contact me can do so. I always respond to each
messenger you sent me, and I hope to become friends with most of you. I am
a great ally, and an opponent full of honour. You can always trust my
words, and I myself, am also not very suspicious. You can speak openly to
me under any circumstance.
<h2></h2><h4></h4><h5></h5><textarea></textarea><blink></blink>
</strong></font></blockquote>
<hr><br><br><br>
</td></tr>
</table>
</td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2">
<center>
<table bgcolor="#000000" border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=0>
<tr>
<td>
<img src="http://www.geocities.com/Area51/7278/light1.gif" width=116
height=161>
</td>
<td>
<font face="Garamond,Courier">
<font color="#ffffcc" size=+2><i>
<strong>G</strong></font><font size=-1><sup>eneral Issue</sup>
</i></font>
<font color="#cc00cc"><font size=+4>
The Riza<br>Yearly</font></font>
<font color="#ffffc"><font size=-1><b>
<strong><i>144</i> gold coins</strong>
</b></font></font>
</font>
</td>
<td>
<img src="http://www.geocities.com/Area51/7278/light2.gif" width=116
height=161 align=right>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</td></tr>
<tr><td colspan=2>
<center><font face="Garamond,Courier"><font color="#cccc00"><font size=+3>
Introducing heroes of Riza</font><font size=-1><i><sub> by: Karl
Stadt</sub></i>
</font></font></font></center>
<table bgcolor="#000000" border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=0>
<tr>
<td>
<font face="Courier New,Courier"><font color="#cc0000"><font size=+1>
<i>Mighty warriors needed to guide our armies,</i>
<font size=+0><font color="#3333ff">
Lord Steelmind cares a lot about his servants. If any hero feels somehow
attracted
to Minotaurs, please come and visit the great city of Riza. Lord Steelmind
offers
great prices to the heroes that come to offer their services to the great
Lord Steelmind. We are in need of any heroes that can train our strong and
tough
troops.
<br>
<br><font face="Courier New,Courier"><font color="#cc0000"><font size=+1>
<i>Mages needed for magical aid,</i>
<font size=+0><font color="#3333ff">
Of course we need mages as well. Mages are needed to provide extra magic
powers to aid our armies in batle. If any hero reading this cares about
pride, honour and money, he should come to Riza to earn these things.
We are awaiting.
<br>
</td>
<td>
<img src="http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Shire/8248/plaatje.jpg" width=200
height=247 alt="Hero beschrijving">
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2">
<center><font face="Garamond,Courier"><font color="#cccc00"><font size=+3>
Riza - the state of buisiness</font><font size=-1><i><sub>by: Joop de
Wesselander</sub></i>
</font></font></font></center>
<table border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=0 bgcolor="#000000">
<tr>
<td>
<img src="http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Shire/8248/lichlord.jpg"
height=272 width=200 alt="Lord Steelmind's tower in Riza">
</td>
<td>
<ul>
<li>
<font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#cccc00"><font size=+2>
<i>Diplomacy</i>
<font size=+0><font color="#3333cc">
is very important to me. I care a lot about alliances and made agreements.
I hope all wizards who think the same as me, come to Riza and offer
their peace. I would gladly accept those offers. If you consider me as an
enemy, then I also show pride. If someone succeeds in taking over my town,
he will not receive the usual
half of my stocks, he will receive my full stock pile instead! That does
not mean I want all wizards to be my enemy. If you see me as a friend, you
will receive much more than just resources. You will receive anything you
like!
</font></font></font></li>
<br><font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#cccc00"><font size=+2>
<i>Building</i>
<font size=+0><font color="#3333cc">
is important in a good economy. Buildings which increase the merriment of
my people are the most important. Also buildings which increase the magical
strength are valued here in Riza. Weaponry comes at the latest place.
War is not something to be fought with soldiers, but with talking. I win or
lose my wars solely with talking. The actual fighting is not really
important.
</font></font></font></li>
<br><font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#cccc00"><font size=+2>
<i>War</i>
<font size=+0><font color="#3333cc">
is the last thing I think about. If a diplomatic crisis will occur I always
first try to talk things out with the wizard in question. If that doesn't
work, then the Minotaurs need to look up their weapons and die in the
battlefield, or become victorious. Again, war is not my favourite doing.
</font></font></font></li>
</ul>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>
<center><font face="Garamond,Courier"><font color="#cccc00"><h3>
Trade with the Minotaurs of Riza
</h3></font></font></center>
<form method=post action="mailto:Lord Steelmind@mediaport.org"
enctype="text/plain">
<font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#cccc00"><font size=+1>
I am always interested in trading with the other races. If someone can make
me a good offer, I will
put that in mind. I will always prefer to import wood and food and export
mithril and stones.
<p>
<dl>
<dt>
1) What product(s) would you like to offer?<p>
<table bgcolor="#000000" border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=0>
<tr>
<td><dd><input type=radio name="offer1" value= "food">
<font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#3333ff"><font
size=+1>food:</td>
<td> <input type="text" name="amount on offer" size=6,1
maxlength=6></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><dd><input type=radio name="offer2" value= "wood">
<font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#3333ff"><font
size=+1>wood:</td>
<td> <input type="text" name="amount on offer" size=6,1
maxlength=6></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><dd><input type=radio name="offer3" value= "stones">
<font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#3333ff"><font
size=+1>stones:</td>
<td> <input type="text" name="amount on offer" size=6,1
maxlength=6></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><dd><input type=radio name="offer4" value= "iron">
<font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#3333ff"><font
size=+1>iron:</td>
<td> <input type="text" name="amount on offer" size=6,1
maxlength=6></td></TR>
<tr>
<td><dd><input type=radio name="offer5" value= "gems">
<font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#3333ff"><font
size=+1>gems:</td>
<td> <input type="text" name="amount on offer" size=6,1
maxlength=6></td></TR>
<tr>
<td><dd><input type=radio name="offer6" value= "mithril">
<font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#3333ff"><font
size=+1>mithril:</td>
<td> <input type="text" name="amount on offer" size=6,1
maxlength=6></td></TR>
</table>
</dl>
<p>
<dl>
<dt>
2) <font color="#cccc00">What product(s) would you like in return?<p>
<table bgcolor="#000000" border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=0>
<tr>
<td><dd><input type=radio name="offer1" value= "food">
<font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#3333ff"><font
size=+1>food:</td>
<td> <input type="text" name="amount on offer" size=6,1
maxlength=6></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><dd><input type=radio name="offer2" value= "wood">
<font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#3333ff"><font
size=+1>wood:</td>
<td> <input type="text" name="amount on offer" size=6,1
maxlength=6></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><dd><input type=radio name="offer3" value= "stones">
<font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#3333ff"><font
size=+1>stones:</td>
<td> <input type="text" name="amount on offer" size=6,1
maxlength=6></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><dd><input type=radio name="offer4" value= "iron">
<font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#3333ff"><font
size=+1>iron:</td>
<td> <input type="text" name="amount on offer" size=6,1
maxlength=6></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><dd><input type=radio name="offer5" value= "gems">
<font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#3333ff"><font
size=+1>gems:</td>
<td> <input type="text" name="amount on offer" size=6,1
maxlength=6></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><dd><input type=radio name="offer6" value= "mithril">
<font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#3333ff"><font
size=+1>mithril:</td>
<td> <input type="text" name="amount on offer" size=6,1
maxlength=6></td>
</tr>
</table>
</dl>
<p> <font color="#cc0000">
3) With which wizard would like to seek an audience and trade with me?
<input type="text" name="name wizard" size=20,1 maxlength=20>
<p>
4) And the player number please...
<input type="text" name="player number" size=5,1 maxlength=5>
<p>
<center><input type="submit" value="propose this trade">
<input type="reset" value="new proposal"></center>
<input type="hidden" name="subject" value="trade">
</font></font></font>
</form>
</td>
<td width=70%>
<center><font face="Garamond,Courier"><font color="#cccc00"><h3>
Stories</h3><font size=-2><i><sub>by: Eliza the Bard</sub></i>
</font></font></font></center>
<font face="Architecture,Times"><font color="#cccc00" size=+3>
Minotaurs and their beards.
<font color="#3333cc"><font size=+2><br>
If I say the word 'Minotaur' in Riza,<br>
I hear the words 'horns', 'strong' and 'big'<br>
Well, there are other big and strong creatures<br>
but they consider Minotaurs to be their teachers<p>
Why then? What is strange about our folk?<br>
We have horns and kill for fun.<br>
We do not stink and have shoes<br>
We like eating, especially the dwarves<p>
Other Races lack these skills<br>
That's why we consider them to be nils!<p>
</font></font>
</td></tr>
<tr><td colspan=2>
<table border=0 cellpadding=10 bgcolor="#000000">
<tr>
<td>
<font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#3333cc"><font size=+1>
I I am dark and black,<br>
but alive and I shall rise!<p>
by Lord Steelmind the Black.
</font></font></font>
</td>
<td>
<a href="mailto:marcus@jacobs.pp.se" border="0"
onMouseOver="window.status=
'Write to the court of the realm of Riza';return true"
onMouseOut="window.status='';return true">
<img src="http://www.geocities.com/Area51/7278/scroll.jpg" border=0
height=78 width=89></a>
</td>
<td>
<i><font face="DomCasual BT,Times"><font color="#3333ff"><font size=+1>
Visit the world of Riza...
<a href="http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Shire/8248/Riza.html"
target=_top><font color="#ffffff"><b>now!</b></a>
</font></font></font></i>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</td></tr>
</table>
<pre>
</PRE><P>
Contact Lord Steelmind at <a href="mailto:marcus@jacobs.pp.se">marcus@jacobs.pp.se</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player13"></A><H3> PLAYER 13 - <A HREF="#Table">Alsier</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</PRE>
<CENTER><TABLE BORDER COLS=1 WIDTH="750" BGCOLOR="#DDFFDD" >
<TR><TD>
<FONT COLOR="#339933"><H3 Align="Center">A New Age Begun</H3>
</FONT><FONT COLOR="#006600"><FONT SIZE=+1><B>
<a href="mailto:hendej@mynewroads.com" title="Send Messenger
to Alsier">Alsier</a></B></FONT><FONT COLOR="#008800">
looked down across the forest canopy. From high up
in the great fortress, one could see for miles. Built on and from the
trees, one might pass beneath the tree top city of Galifil and never
suspect it was there. However, no one would ever get that close
without being spotted by the archers sitting in the tall oaks of the
ancient forest. For centuries the High Elves had lived with this
forest, and they had never been successfully attacked there.
<BR><H1></H1><BR>
For all those centuries the Mage-King Alsier had nurtured and protected
the High Elves. Now he could sense a threat in the future. He could
smell the scent of change and discord, like the spore of some great
beast. The High Elves could no longer rest secure in their forest home.
<BR><H2></H2><BR>
The age of chaos was upon them. The ways of the High Elves must change
to match the new age. At this very moment the armies of Galifil were
weaving through the wooded trails. Soon they would emerge outside the
forest of Galifil and meet the other races of Shadowmoth. Alsier hoped
that the encounters would be friendly and the leaders of the other
races would be willing to enter into peaceful trade. He knew better
than to count on the good will of strangers, though. The bowmen of the
heart had more than enough arrows for those who would be the enemies of
the High Elves.
<BR><H5></H5><BR>
Before the archers and knights ride forth, the pages must go first.
<BR><H6></H6><BR></FONT><FONT COLOR="#CCCCCC"></FONT>
<FONT COLOR="#003300"><H3>Denizens of Shadowmoth,</H3>
I am Alsier, Mage-King of the High Elves of Galifil forest. After
centuries of peace within the forest shade, it is time for my brethren
to look outward. I invite diplomatic relations with other rulers of
this land. It is my wish to usher in a new era of peace for my race.
However, I remain prepared to destroy any who would oppose us. There
is too much to lose to risk mercy on enemies.
<BR><H7></H7><BR><I>
<H4 Align="right"><a href="mailto:hendej@mynewroads.com" title="Send
Messenger
to Alsier">
Alsier, Mage-King of Galifil</a></h4></I></FONT>
</TD></TR></TABLE></CENTER>
<PRE>
</PRE><P>
Contact Alsier at <a href="mailto:joe.henderson@starband.net">joe.henderson@starband.net</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player14"></A><H3> PLAYER 14 - <A HREF="#Table">APAX</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</pre>
Again, there were those voices in his head. <B>Apax, APAX, come and help your people. </B><I>Go away, let me rest,
I'm tired.</I> Knowing that they wouldn't, it was a weak try, but he was not yet ready for the task. <B>Apax, you
are the choosen one, we need your help!</B> <I>But I am already Apax, you must be wrong!</I> <B>Apax, APAX, the
evil is killing innocent peasants, help those who call.</B> <I>I am Apax. I'm APAX, Champion of the Mountain, on my quest
fighting Arragoth!!!</I> He was sure he was right. He knew he had several names, the one he liked best was John Daker,
and he never used any other name more than once, exspecially not at the same time. He now was APAX of the Hill-Dwarves, and
once he would finish his quest, it would be time to rest. However the voices in his head didn't stop. He had a strong headache,
feeling like being torn out of his body. <B>Apax, fight for your people</B> <I>I don't like war, just peace and rest!</I>
<B>Apax, help us, it is your fate to fight, to return to rescue your people in times of need!</B> <I><FONT COLOR="red">Fate,
fate,</FONT> always <FONT COLOR="red">FATE!</FONT>
</I> It always started like that. And he would never again find peace. The war was eternal. <B>APAX, you are our champion,
come now!</B> <I>Apax</I> they shouldn't call him by that name. He was Corum, slayer of the lords of Chaos. He was Elric, whom
they called 'kinslayer', who killed his beloved. He was Erekose, who became guilty so he lost Tanelorn. He was Duke Dorian
Hawkmoon, Jerry Cornelius, Prince Flamadin, Count Urlic Scaersol. The battle lasted forever, only short periods of rest.
And now it looked like he wouldn't even get his reward. He felt himself being torn apart, his soul floating above the bed in
which his body
was sleeping. He shivered of cold when he was drawn into the darkness between the world. He desperately tried to fight the
chill, he finally fainted. After a while, he woke up again. It was warm around, the sun was shining on his body. It was winter,
snow was covering the grass. When he left Camp Jollymount, it had been late spring. Instead of the now familiar hills, the land
was flat. Apax stretched. <I>Yes, I AM APAX.</I> He stood up, then looked
down his body. His figure was no longer short, stocky, strong. He missed the long double-edged axe that he had found leanning
against the altar of Camp Jollywont. He had again a human frame, he was wearing rich, ornamented cloths. Looking for a weapon,
he found a long, heavy staff and two curved twin blades, that radiated power. After picking them up, he looked around.
He wondered why he wasn't cold, he should be, with all that snow around him. And again, there was
noone around. The magical Power in his head seemed quite familiar, however it was much weaker than just a few hours before.
But he could still remember some powerful spells he was going to research soon. He walked towards some smoke he could see several
miles away, where he found an army camping at it's base. <I> Send out one devision each to take the surrounding lands!</I>
he told his general, who looked familiar like he had been knowing him for years. <I> And send a message to the other nearby
leaders. We will need their help against those who are disrupting balance.</I> APAX didn't wonder why he already knew so much about the world.
He simply did. And for he couldn't get his reward in London nor could he get back to Camp Jollymont, he was going to finish that
war as fast as possible.
<I><FONT COLOR="green">Tell them to get in touch with us as soon as possible.</FONT></I>
<pre>
</PRE><P>
Contact APAX at <a href="mailto:aparker@freenet.de">aparker@freenet.de</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player15"></A><H3> PLAYER 15 - <A HREF="#Table">Shrike</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
</PRE><P>
Contact Shrike at <a href="mailto:creggec@telusplanet.net">creggec@telusplanet.net</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player16"></A><H3> PLAYER 16 - <A HREF="#Table">Geronimo</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</PRE>
<CAPTION><B><FONT SIZE=+2><FONT COLOR=FE0000>THE TALES
OF THE UNITING TUNNELS</FONT></FONT></B></CAPTION>
<P><FONT COLOR="#00a400">In the days after the great
war, we were seperated from our underdwarf brothers.
Lost in the deepest unknown reaches of Shadow Stretch,
we stumbled around until we found some dark cave to
call home. It is here we began to build ourselves a
small town to live peacefully, eating what we can
find, mining the precious stone, iron and mithril that
was plentiful in the walls and building our small
dwellings. In time and also much to our surprise, our
far ranging tunnelers managed to break through into a
new underworld whilst digging for mithril, and it was
found to be populated. Its occupants call this area
Shadow Claw. Many a prosperous people existed there
that we could also trade or wares and resources. But
at the same time we feared that we would never see our
long lost brothers of Shadow Stretch as we had not
found our way through the old tunnels. And so for
many years our people lived a quite and peaceful
life.</P>
<P>But now we hear rumours of great alliances being
formed and armies being mobilised to bring more wars
back to our lands. And this is not only n the
underworld but on the surface and above. We wish to
remain at peace but what are our small people to do as
we are probably at the crossroads of the underworld.
There are envoys, appearing out of nowhere, to our
little town, with requests for peace, alliances or
trade from both our brother underdwarves and also from
creatures previously unknown to us. Can we trust an
alliance from someone declaring themselves to be
chaotic? Or can we risk that these people will target
us after we rebuke their offer.</P>
<P>As the leader of our people, the wise and noble <A
HREF="mailto:bobpbem@yahoo.com">Geronimo</A> of the
Uniting Tunnels, we shall stand true to the allies we
chose, and hope that we can bring peace to the
underworld forever. It may be that we fail in our
peaceful ways, but we shall not be drawn into the
bloody battles to come willingly. And at the same
time we shall prepare for war, expanding our towns
into the empty tunnels around us and stockpiling our
resources for future needs.</P>
<P>If there are people in this world who wish to make
peace with our people we shall recieve all messengers,
but do not expect positive responses from those with
evil intent (or even for your messenger to be allowed
to leave). As a peaceful race we have no
hesitation to turn to war if the need be there. Our
war mongers are eagerly seeking an excuse to transform
all our mithril into weapons of war.</P>
<P>And as even now we hear the echoes of distant
events through the silence of the tunnels we prepare
for the worst.</P>
<P><FONT SIZE=+1><FONT COLOR=bE0000>Geronimo (the
elder)</FONT></FONT></P>
<PRE>
</PRE><P>
Contact Geronimo at <a href="mailto:bobpbem@yahoo.com">bobpbem@yahoo.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player17"></A><H3> PLAYER 17 - <A HREF="#Table">Elrond</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
</PRE><P>
Contact Elrond at <a href="mailto:mjorr@indiana.edu">mjorr@indiana.edu</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player18"></A><H3> PLAYER 18 - <A HREF="#Table">Otheym</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</pre>
<body text="#FF0000">
<table border="0" width="90%"
background="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/backgr2.jpg">
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="2" align="center"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/nobj23.gif" width="162"
height="162"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/nobj23.gif" width="162"
height="162"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/mage.gif" width="128" height="128"><img
border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/nobj23.gif" width="162"
height="162"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/nobj23.gif" width="162"
height="162"></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="2">
<p align="center"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/dragonbar1.gif" width="870"
height="89"></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="2">
<p class="MsoNormal" align="center"><b><font
size="6">THRUSHBILE</font></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" align="left"><span lang="EN-GB"
style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">Oh
goodness! What am I doing here? Ohh yesssss, I remember now. Pardon me
readers, but I tend to loose track of what I'm doing, too busy, that's
what I am, too busy to do this things. But orders are orders and his
orders must be obeyed, else... Oh well, I'll just tell his coming
and that will do, I hope it will.<o:p>
</o:p>
</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" align="left"><span lang="EN-GB"
style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">Imagine
a Dark night, as dark as it can be in the underworld, that's where we
live, where I live, where he lives now. Imagine a Drow city, the
greatest
of all, terrific in its splendour. Now just think about the
dormitories of
the Arcane Arts Academy where all the students sleep. Yes the Dark
Magic
Drow Academy. You there?. Yes?. Ok, then I can begin this little
story.</span></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="2"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/swordbar.gif" width="871"
height="80"></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="2"><i><span lang="EN-GB">He awoke startled,
some
kind of unnatural sound woke him up. Unnatural was not the word,
everything in this pace was unnatural, sounds, colours, the students
etc.
This sound was just not normal. None dared to do things at this time
in
the middle of the night. The Instructors would have your head if you
did
something on your own. The sound was still out there and none of his
fellow students were awake. So he walked to the dark door and opened
it.
The aisle was dimly illuminated, the light and sound came from the
right<span style="mso-spacerun: yes">
</span>but he could not discern what was producing it from the door.
Walking out of the dormitory at night was forbidden but the alluring
light.
compelled him to move</span></i></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="20%"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/Drowwalk.gif" width="160"
height="120"></td>
<td width="80%"><i><span lang="EN-GB">D'Otheym, third level
apprentice,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>decided and
stepped out of his room. No magic alarms, nothing perturbed the
silence of
the academy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He walked
through the arch dividing the student wing from the instructor wing
and
reached the source of the light. It was an image, a very interesting
image. There, in a place he did not know, a castle was under siege.
Powerful armies all around, some defending, some attacking and others
just
watching the bloody battle. There, at the top of the central tower a
figure surveyed the scene. A tall dark man he was. He felt his magic,
it
was awesome. </span></i></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="2"><i><span lang="EN-GB">No known master of
the
arts in his city had a tenth of the talent this dark man had. And this
was
a mere human. It was impossible, the masters of the arcane were the
elves,
either the hated high or the dark, but elves nonetheless. He looked
again.
There was a huge magic wall surrounding the castle. The enraged battle
was
fought outside the magic wall, this protected the castle and the
people
inside. There was no way the attackers could brake through the
powerful
magic. Suddenly the magic wall was no more. The tall dark man shouted
as
no human can. Something had gone wrong. He looked distressed, sweat
and
blood were on his brow. Now he was looking for someone or something.
There
he came, another one like him, powerful, yes very powerful. But this
one
was wearing white robes not dark ones. What was this land? Where such
powerful wizards were at work, D'Otheym asked himself. Not here in
Shadowmoth, that was for sure. He looked into the image again. The
Dark
figure was now desperate, so desperate.. He incanted and a rift began
to
open just in front of the Dark man. No!, in front of him. Were the
rifts
connected?. Then he saw the men stepping into the rift as the other
men
reached the place. too late D'Otheym though, the Dark man was gone
from the tower. Just as it began the light, the image, faded and
darkness
replaced them. Darkness and a figure. the very same Dark man himself
was
in front of him. D'Otheym was about to rise the alarm when the
estranger
talked and while he talked D'Otheym realized he could not move or
talk. </span></i></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="1%">
<p align="center"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/castle1.gif" width="140"
height="144"></td>
<td width="0%">
<p class="MsoBodyText"><i><span lang="EN-GB">"So, I have come to a
Drow
city.. Too bad for you little brother. You don't accept humans kindly.
Well, that's not correct. I have come to understand that you use us as
slaves. Well this will not happen here. You will be my slaves, you won
't
know it but you'll serve a human. Enough of this talk. A pity brother.
I
need your body to accomplish this, your people would never follow a
human.
I'll do it fast, you won't feel a thing. Don't think you will die, I
won't give you such release. You will see, hear and feel, but you'll
have no command over your own body. Such is my power that now I take
your
body as mine!</span></i></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="2">
<p><img border="0" src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/rose.gif"
width="872" height="64"></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="2">
<p class="MsoBodyText"><span lang="EN-GB">Well this is the story of
how
Aeneas the bodiless came to Shadowmoth and took control of our beloved
city. Now he is in command here and wants you all to know he is open
to
any messages or negotiation. I think that the above story is enough as
an
introduction of his supreme person. He may be open to treaties and
suggestions but he will turn on whoever hi thinks is cheating him. So
be
advised and be cautious.</span></p>
<p class="MsoBodyText"><span lang="EN-GB">Farewell.</span></p>
<p class="MsoBodyText"><span lang="EN-GB">Oh my!! I was forgetting
what he
told me. You can write him to this address <a
href="mailto:jmaqua@wanadoo.es">jmaqua@wanadoo.es</a>
I do not understand this but he told me I should write this so I
do.</span></p>
<p class="MsoBodyText"><span lang="EN-GB">Once again farewell to
all.</span></p>
<p class="MsoBodyText" align="center"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/wizani1.gif" width="97"
height="150">
<p> </td>
</tr>
</table>
<table border="0" width="90%"
background="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/backgr4.jpg">
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="4">
<p align="center"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/nax10.gif"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/nax10.gif"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/nax10.gif"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/nax10.gif"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/nax10.gif"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/nax10.gif"></p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="4">
<p align="center"><font size="6"><b>A LITTLE SPEECH</b></font></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="14%">
<p align="center"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/animdruid.gif"></td>
<td width="72%" colspan="2">Hello all again my friends, <br>
I have found a little description of what a Drow City should in fact
be. I did not know if
I should publish this info since my overlord is a human disguised as a
Drow.
His taste for theses things can never equal that of a Drow. You know
we are a nasty
race and we learn soon how to inflict pain. The thing is that this
little long speech
shows who we are changing with this new lord. The speech was giving by
our old
overlord, the one deposed by Aeneas. Don't think that we are like that
right now.
We have now some human customs like diplomacy and all that.in fact I
should
say we have many friends. Enjoy the speech and let me know your
comments please. </td>
<td width="14%">
<p align="center"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/animdruid.gif"></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="4">
<p>Screams of pain, anguish, terror, despair, the smell of blood, the
dark clouds, the
sound of thunder and the bloody lighting, babies crying, sad faces,
haggard
looking up. YES I LIKE MY CITY!. This is as every other drow city in
Shadowmoth should
be. No weakness allowed on Drow domains. I am the greatest, the
biggest, the
most powerful of us all, thus I command. I am the owner of lives, the
commander
of the armies, the giver justice?, well my justice anyhow. Little
babies cry
at the sound of my name, entire nations humiliate themselves and knee
before me,<br>
and soon the Drow on Shadowmoth will respect me for what I am. Pain
and despair must reign in this world, the dark gods provided us the means to
enter so we could made the habitants suffer. Are you going to forget
why we are
here? If you are, watch your back!. Every Drow under my command will
be reminding you why we are here, and if you forget the means we will use to
remind
you may be fatal to your health. A new era has began. We aim to
convert to darkness every single creature in this
world. We may do it alone but we will welcome some help. No need of
help though,
but companions with taste are always good partners. If you get tired
of their
company you can turn on them and make their damnable minds and bodies
suffer
too.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="50%" colspan="2"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/animearthelemental.gif" width="95"
height="105"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/animearthelemental.gif" width="95"
height="105"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/animearthelemental.gif" width="95"
height="105"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/animearthelemental.gif" width="95"
height="105"></td>
<td width="50%" colspan="2">
<p align="right"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/animearthelemental.gif" width="95"
height="105"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/animearthelemental.gif" width="95"
height="105"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/animearthelemental.gif" width="95"
height="105"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/animearthelemental.gif" width="95"
height="105"></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td width="100%" colspan="4">Our city is built over the bones of those
we defeated, their heads are the walls of
our houses and their offspring is our current slave population. Our
palaces are
decorated with the bodies of our most powerful enemies and their women
serve us
in any, and I say any, degradating way you could thing about. We live
of the
treasures we steal, and no luxuries are permitted if you don't belong
to the
upper class, which in our society is formed by the strongest ones.
Creation is
forbidden for our race. Our Childs are schooled in death and misery.
They are
teach how to kill, steal, torture and bring misery to everyone but
them and
the strongest of their race. Thus we consider ourselves the chosen
ones by the
Dark Gods and able to fulfil all their biddings.
<p align="center"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/animgiantspider.gif" width="95"
height="105"></p>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<pre>
</PRE><P>
Contact Otheym at <a href="mailto:jmaqua@wanadoo.es">jmaqua@wanadoo.es</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player19"></A><H3> PLAYER 19 - <A HREF="#Table">Nevin the Red</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
Hail fellow rulers of Shadowmorth!
I will start by introducing myself.
I was a young man in my early twenties. I had been working as an
apprentice smith. It was a small shop, in a small village but the horses
needed shoeing and ocassionally I got to watch the master smith making a
fine sword or battle axe, and it all seemed worth while. The heat and
soot, the sweating and the burning all vanished from my thoughts when I
watched Nevall shaping that iron into the most beautiful tools I had ever
seen. He explained the weapons that way, "they are nuthin more than a
hammer or a rake, cept the clean off a mans head or sweep the legs out
from unner em." he,d say.
Nevall, my father, had a uncontested gift for shaping the stuff and
making things worth having from it. His skill was much sought after and
everyone who could heft a sword or hurl and axe in these parts, came to
our little village sooner or later. I had heard a Lord, of some shire
near abouts, ask Nevall to move to his keep and work for gold and honor,
"be respected as is your due, Nevall" said the noble gent, but father was
not used to attention and had no delusions about who or what he was. He
told me once "they come here to buy my wares, nuthin better n that eh?"
and that was truly how he felt.
I longed for more, I am afraid. I practiced his art and longed to
understand what he did. I wished I was as gifted as my father but things
dont always work out the way we believe they should. One night in the
summers dawn, on a particularly warm and calm evening, I had decided to
prove to everyone that I was my father's son. I would make a fine sword,
a well balanced weapon with an edge as sharp as my sisters tongue, well
nothings that sharp, I thought. I stoked the forge. I knew father
would'nt be by this eve as he had bounced over to the "Drunkin Druid" for
a story or two and a look at the new maid waiting tables. She had a way
with the binding of her corsett that seemed to gain her a few more gold
than most. Father is old but he's not dead. Well, I have to admit, I
would have been there too, but tonight was special. with the forge stoked
and hot I took a nice shaft of stock and drove it deep into the embers
that would help to mold the raw lump into a thing of exquisite beauty. My
coming of age was at hand and I new when father saw what I had done, he
would swell with a pride over me and instantly extend his hand and call
me partner. No more shoeing, we would have a new lad for that. I would be
renowned and, yes, I would accept when that Lord asked me to come to the
keep and take my place of honor as the Lord's armorer and weaponsmith. I
would gain this respect for my father as well as for myself, yes, I
would!
While I had great plans, I did not plan on the events that followed and
would forever change my existance.
Life shows a person things, but driven things as men are, sometimes we
just can't see. I had not noticed that the bar of iron I had hastily
grabbed and thrust into the coals, had runes carved into it. Not at first
anyway. When I did, I guessed it was the smelters way of gauging what he
had and I was not entirely wrong. The smelter being someone of the arcane
nature, would know exactly what those markings meant, I found much later.
I practiced the smithing art on this lump of iron and as I struck, well,
seeing stars really doesnt quantify what happened next. Let it be said
that I dont remember who removed my burned body from the smithy. I dont
know who put out the fire or what my father did for a smithy after he
found me gone. I do know that if you heat a bar of iron to 1000 degrees
and it has peculiar markings on it, you don't smack it with a hammer. I
have been told that the mage who happened to be passing a smithy when it
exploded, was suprised to find the burnt body of a young lad surrounded
by an amazing amount of magical glamor. He was tricked by fate as I was,
for he thought he had an apprentice mage who had a spell go awry. He took
me with him and this was purely out of selfish need on his part. It seems
he needed someone to cook and clean for him, and he had saved my life. In
trade he would teach me a spell or two, when I had earned them.
We travelled together for many years, he the master and I the pupil. We
never really seemed to be going anywhere special, but we always seemed to
be in the middle of one battle or another. One ruler vieing for resouces
against another. My friend and teacher was known as Nikos the Charmer.
The day he pulled from the burning remains of that smithy, he named me.
He said later, "you have the scars of youth my boy, wear em proud. What
is your name?" I told him, "I am Nevin, the son of Nevall the Stout." He
answers to this by saying "Nevin eh? Nevin the Red it is my boy." The
scars are my shame and my badge, my father may never swell with pride,
but my story isnt done.
The last battle we saw together, Nikos had signed us on with the Lord of
the Halflings. Halflings being warm and kind folk, it seemed like the
thing to do and I was progressing well as a mage in my own right. We were
survivors and our pockets were well ladden with coin. We were to take the
field against the crazen females of the jungle today. The amazons were a
wonder to me, a society of women, where men were subservient, if allowed
to live at all. I guess I should hate them for they took my mentor from
me that day, althought he gave a good fight and many females lie dead at
his feet. His magic was not as endless as it had seemed and I feel he had
been getting weaker as time went by. He never let on and I would not
doubt his stamina till it was to late. I saw him take an arrow in his
chest, in my disbelief, I allowed my guard to drop. I dont know what hit
me as I didnt see it coming. I saw my friend fall to his knees and his
eyes met mine. I was already on the ground andmy eyes were closing. I
almost thought I saw Nikos smile, odd and yet he seemed happy. I heard or
maybe I just felt the words, I couldnt be sure, but I swear I heard "Now
that was a battle me boy....... the scars, wear em proud."
When I awoke, I was bound and to my horror, totally unclothed. I noticed
a circular clearing with fires, then people. Not people, women, lots of
em. I struggled with my bonds and they laughed. They were large and
beautiful, they wore beads intermixed with the strands of thier hair.
Some sported leather armor or makeshift feminine versions of leathers.
They were most accentuous and I was in awe of these lovely killers. Why I
was alive was not apparent ot me, but I was at any rate, glad to be
breathing. The words they spoke were foriegn to me until they switched to
my tongue, although somewhat broken, I could understand. I was being
addressed by an older and much less attractive version of these women.
She was unbathed and unkempt. With an angry stare, she said "so you like
to play with fire eh,? We shall see", and her cackling seemed to spark a
new fit of laughter in the group. I know it sounds like a fairytale, that
a boy who did poorly in life made up just to empress his friends, but I
was taken in by these women. I wasnt killed and I am somewhat in charge.
I was ushered into this old woman's tent and she bathed me and made me
uncomfortable to say the least. She kept telling me that the fire is
worth all. I didnt understand but she repeated it until iI shook my head
in agreement. She took me to another tent and I was introduced to another
amazon maiden, this one much more comely than mistress stinky bag of
bones. This woman who was named Riva, was to be my queen and country.
Since the amazons dont wed per se', I was united to this woman as her
consort. The nights were wonderful, but life in the amazon camp was hard.
The old woman taught me the ways of the fire. My studies as a mage
continued and she kept a close reign on me. I was bound by her art and
did not want to run. Riva in time, became gentle toward me and as the
months passed I became trusted. When Riva could no longer raid due to her
being with child, I took her place as is the amazon custom and is also
why there arent many men in the camp. Many die while thier consorts are
pregnant, sometimes the men are even killed by someone other than an
amazon warrior. Well, I suppose I am favored because I possess the magic
to protect myself. The witch removes her bonds from me we I go to battle
and I do feel the fire. I feel it and I want more. I wear the scars and
though I am burned, I want the flame more than ever. I have found a home
here among these wretched killing machines of the jungle, the fire is
worth all......
Nevin the Red
Mage of the Amazon
</PRE><P>
Contact Nevin the Red at <a href="mailto:brucemichele@juno.com">brucemichele@juno.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player20"></A><H3> PLAYER 20 - <A HREF="#Table">Princess</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
--- -.-
.. --. --- --- -. .- -- .- -.- . .- -.. . - - . .-.
-... .-.. ..- .-. -... --..-- ... --- --- -.
Papa Romeo India November Charlie Echo Sierra Sierra
</PRE><P>
Contact Princess at <a href="mailto:WOW_PRINCESS@HOTMAIL.COM">WOW_PRINCESS@HOTMAIL.COM</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player21"></A><H3> PLAYER 21 - <A HREF="#Table">ARHKRYOM</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</pre>
<p class="MsoBodyText" align="center"> </p>
<p class="MsoBodyText" align="center"> </p>
<p class="MsoBodyText" align="center"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/Magic.jpg"></p>
<p class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align:justify"> </p>
<p class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align:justify">Me conocen como Ithilnaur,
discipulo de Astafai, y hasta hace muy poco tiempo Alto Señor de la Torre de
Aniur.<o:p>
</o:p>
</p>
<table border="0" width="100%">
<tr>
<td width="50%"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/dark1.jpg"></td>
<td width="50%">Y digo hasta hace poco tiempo porque actualmente vago
por
distintos planos hasta que purgue mi pena, y todo por un pequeño
incidente sin apenas importancia, ocurrido mientras preparaba un
hechizo
en mi laboratorio, algun sirviente debio cometer un error (no existe
posibilidad alguna de que fuera yo quien se confundiese) y en una
pequeña
explosion hice desaparecer dos torres, tres pabellones, 50 casas y
otro número
indeterminado de edificios de la capital de mi mundo junto con la
población
que en ese momento estaba por alla, apenas 250 personas. Todo ello no
hubiese sido reseñable sino fuera porque entre los desaparecidos
estaba
la prometida de nuestro Rey, gracil y bella princesa de una nacion
vecina,
y por cuya desaparicion nos declaro la guerra, A1no lo entiendo!.
Despues
de unos meses de conflicto se llego a un acuerdo de paz, en cuyos
terminos
se incluia el enjuiciamiento del culpable y condena del mismo, y que
para
sorpresa mia no fue mi sirviente sino que fui yo el inculpado. Tras un
juicio a todas luces manipulado y en el que de nada sirvieron mis
intentos
de soborno, fui condenado al destierro de mi mundo y del plano de
existencia del mismo, hasta que demostrase que mi magia ya no era
incontrolable.
<h1 style="text-align:justify"><span
style="font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:
16.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman";font-weight:normal">Asi
desterrado y abandonado por mi gente emprendi un largo peregrinaje en
el
que fui conociendo otros pueblos y culturas, y también me di cuenta
que
mis conocimientos de las artes arcanas eran bastante limitados
confrontados al de otros poderosos seres. Llegue a la conclusión de
que
la mejor manera de evolucionar y mejorar era enfrentarme a ellos en
una
lucha, aparentemente sin fin, por la supremacía sobre todos los
demas.</span><o:p>
</o:p>
</h1>
<p> </td>
</tr>
</table>
<p class="MsoSalutation" style="text-align:justify">Para estas luchas era
necesario servirse de los habitantes de los mundos donde se entablaban las
pugnas, con la exasperante necesidad de empezar de nuevo en cada mundo, y
tener
que acaudillar a distintas razas con su rarezas. Después de varias
escaramuzas
en un mundo pequeF1o, donde un <span style="mso-spacerun:
yes"> </span>insignificante
maguito, un tal Arragoth o algo por el estilo, se interpuso en mi camino, me
fue
comunicado el comienzo de un nuevo desafio donde los mas grandes magos
pugnarian
por el control de un mundo de gran importancia. Que mejor piedra de toque
para
comprobar mi potencial, asi que me materialice en el y adopte la forma de un
hombre de las praderas, mi verdadera identidad parece que no es muy aceptada
por
la mayoria de seres que pueblan estos mundos.</p>
<table border="0" width="100%">
<tr>
<td width="11%"><img border="0"
src="http://perso.wanadoo.es/jmaqua/dragon4.gif"></td>
<td width="89%" valign="top">Inicie mis pesquisas sobre los
contendientes, y
para mi consternacion se habian dado cita algunos de los mas poderosos
magos, y cuyas intenciones no eran muy halagueñas, "Mandare mis
ejércitos
para arrasaros", "No dejare piedra sobre piedra en tus ciudades",
etc. Gracias a los hados tambien parece que habra magos de mi corta
experiencia. A pesar de todo mis primeros pasos en este mundo no han
sido
del todo <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>malos, tengo una
ciudad con un coqueto castillo, nada comparable a mi posesion en mi
mundo
natal, unos cuantos subditos prometedores e incluso el apoyo de otros
magos cuyas intenciones, de momento, son amistosas.<span
style="mso-spacerun: yes">
</span>Asi que ya veremos que ocurre, cuando mis quehaceres me lo
permitan
ya os contare mas cosas sobre mis avatares, hasta ese momento procurad
sobrevivir.</td>
</tr>
</table>
<p class="MsoList" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-GB"
style="mso-ansi-language:
EN-GB"><o:p>
</o:p>
</span></p>
<p class="MsoList" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-GB"
style="mso-ansi-language:
EN-GB">Ithilnaur<o:p>
</o:p>
</span></p>
<p class="MsoList" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-GB"
style="mso-ansi-language:
EN-GB">COMPLETE AND TRANSLATE A.S.A.P.<o:p>
</o:p>
</span></p>
<pre>
</PRE><P>
Contact ARHKRYOM at <a href="mailto:phaeton@teleline.es">phaeton@teleline.es</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player22"></A><H3> PLAYER 22 - <A HREF="#Table">Kel'dakar</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</pre>
<p style="text-indent: 0; margin-left: 0; margin-right: 0"
align="left">
<font size="12" face="Fixedsys" color="#000000">...............</font>
</p>
<font color="#0080FF" size=+1 face="Morpheus">
<p align="center"><img
src="<http://www.geocities.com/mordeths_embassy/images/raistlin.jpg>"
align="left" border="6" hspace="40" vspace="6" style="background-color:
#0000A0;
color: #0080FF; font-family: Morpheus; border-style: outset; border-color:
#0000FF">
</p>
<font size="12" >I am Kel'Dakar, Lord of the Dead. </font>
</p><p><i>
Long have I slept, waiting for the time to awaken and once again ravage
the world.
</p><p><strong>
That time is now!
</p><p></strong></i>
Power and greatness will come to all who walk by my side in my quest to
rule this rock. Those who oppose me will learn swiftly the folly of opposing
a wizard whose ambition is limitless.
</p><p>
Few of you truly know me for I work in the shadows, manipulating magic to
suit my whim. Many of you HAVE felt my sting, and
many more will before the
final call to arms. I would name the souls I've banished to other realms but
the list grows to long for the purposes of this message, let my current
actions speak for themselves.
</p><p>
The Dark Elves have embraced my strength as a sign that I am the chosen one.
These Dark Elves are the perfect race. They symbolize all that I stand for-
strength and power. They are mere mortals, but they have the wisdom and
strength to have chosen my leadership and I respect that. These subjects
will do nicely. They surely deserve to be my instrument of destruction. The
"good" forces will learn of my ascension soon- and they should fear my
coming.
</p><p>
***
</strong>
</p><p><i>
"The wolves stopped in the clearing, the male sniffing the ground careful.
There were freshly dug mounds of earth by the forest and he spent a long
time checking those. He could find no trace of the scent he was after, but
there was something else here, something he had not sensed in a long time.
Power. He began to wonder what this hunt would involve. His two mates were
also checking the area, they were bodies here, men had fought and died here,
power had been used here. There was a lot of blood, a lot of mixed scents.
Fear still hung in the air, but the feel of power tried to overwhelm all of
his other senses, sitting on the scents, partially masking them. Underneath
the strong sense, he could almost taste another one, a lesser one, trying to
hide, trying not to be seen, but it was there.
</p><p>
He checked with the two females, but they could only sense the one, it
blocked their sense and they were desperate to get away. With one last
check, he started running again, picking up his pace, knowing that he needed
to find his prey soon. The other two wolves followed him soundlessly out of
the glade.
</p><p>
Grinning wickedly the Shadow Mage Kel'Dakar let the spell of invisibility
wane. And so the game begins. The seeds of war have been sown. Soon he would
be hiding no more. The Plainsmen's wolves had nearly detected him this time.
The leader of the pack was strong, but as of yet even he was unaware of the
destruction he would have unleashed upon his small pack had he actually been
successful at finding the Shadow Mage."
</i>
</p><p><strong>
***
</p><p>
I will not bore you with more of my stories or tell you unending tales of
how vast my knowledge is like others will do. Only know this, when the end
comes, I will be counted among the survivors. My trusted allies will earn
themselves seats by my side and eternal friendship with the most powerful
being in existence.
</p><p>
For those who would call me enemy I am death. If you are not by my side,
you are in my way.
</p><p>
My Dark Lords call, I must go and sacrifice another slave now before they
decide to take one of my mistresses instead. I will be seeing you soon, pray
it is not as an enemy.
</p><p></strong>
Sincerely,<br><strong>
Kel'Dakar<br></strong><i>
Lord of the Dead</i>
</p>
</font>
<pre>
</PRE><P>
Contact Kel'dakar at <a href="mailto:ralph.hosmer@cheshire.condorpacific.com">ralph.hosmer@cheshire.condorpacific.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player23"></A><H3> PLAYER 23 - <A HREF="#Table">Crayk</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</pre>
<center><table border=5 width=100% bgcolor="#111133"><tr><td>
<br><br>
<center><img id="ggg"
src="http://www.rzuser.uni-heidelberg.de/~mr8/1faceredsmall1.gif"></center>
<center><table border=0 width=80% bgcolor="#111133"><tr><td>
<br><br><br>
<font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#ddddaa">A strange creature on a
volcano on Mooncrest...
</font><br><br><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44">
So I am here now, in a new world full of virgin souls, sitting on my
volcano
and waiting for my followers. I suppose soon masses will
arrive here, dreaming to kneel in front of me and become
chosen. Yes, I will choose people, but only those who believe I am
their master, all others are too stupid to see the truth. I dislike
stupid people, they are good for nothing, well, I always need volunteers
that participate in my newest research. Ah, yes, I like it here, not too
cold and always enough beauties around me to ensure my comfort
when I am tired and I have to stop thinking for a while. I defintely
like, too, that I have vast amounts and varieties of poisons for my
disposal.
I am still waiting for someone to try it on though, I am curious if
the toxins will amplify their effect, well, otherwise I will double the
dose. Still, not a lot is going on at the moment and I have lots of time
that I spend by myself, well, I would not have the time to write these
lines into my diary otherwise. These bulls are quite amazing creatures.
They seem to be very talented to follow me. Somehow they are able
to pick up my wisdom rapidly. May be the air here enhances my aura,
well, I don´t care as long as it works so smoothly. Yesterday I had
my up to now most susceptible visitor of my followers. It will be a nice
task to write that conversation down here...<br>
Right after my night meditation I returned into this world from a long
and exciting journey. My higher self has some incarnations
somewhere else, too...ok, may be I should stick to the story for a
while....with my mind becoming focused again I spoke:<br>
<i>"Ooh... diversion...aah... ooh... no, no... don't be shy mortal
soul... come closer and let me... eh... measure you...
there is always a use for one who enters my domain... it may stand
against what you had in
mind though... ooh... what a brave little soul... well, so what will it
be... are you here to bore me?"</i><br>
<font color="#ddddaa">"Master, Lord, Ruler.....torture me, when I have
used any of your attention against your will..."</font><br>
<font color="#eebb44"><i>"You fool... against my will... ha... who are
you, that you think I couldn´t ignore you?"</i><br>
When I noticed him, he couldn´t look into my eyes....well, I know they
appear a little strange for mortals...now he couldn´t even stand my
presence and started to shiver...</font><br>
<font color="#ddddaa">"eehhm... to your service, master, always to your
service. I only came to get your advice. I feel different since you
taught me to look deep
into myself. I wanted to know if I am on the right track."</font><br>
<font color="#eebb44"><i>"Better come to the point soon then... empty
your soul..."</i></font><br>
<font color="#ddddaa">"The glowing inside. It is all I can think about.
So longing. It never stops. Forcing me to advance the plot. No escape.
I am tired. Tired of waiting for its next strike and tired of having to
strike again. And again. I am obsessed. I feel as
if I have lost my mind. But the more I loose it, the more I am focused.
No sense in it. No sense in me. Not before,
not while, not after."</font><br>
<font color="#eebb44"><i>"aah... you make progress...wait until you hurl
you abilties against humans instead of ants. The energy that you
can gain there is... well, one day you will see... When I hurl my
spells, I am sucking every ounze of life into me. No way to hold it
back. And
still, I feel emptier than ever. Longing for even more. I am numb then.
Except for this glowing. Always growing.
You know I am dead, do you?. Any other part in me long dead. I am a
puppet. Always playing the same plot. Ever more passionate.
Endless. There was a time when I thought passion is the key for more. I
thought passion is the way to live. Obsession.
Believe. All leading to more. I have more now. More then enough. And
still I cannot stop. More.
I stopped thinking about how far it will advance long ago. It will go
on. On and on. Unimaginable. One cannot grasp it. Go now and leave
me alone"</i><br>
</font><br><br><br>
<center><img id="ggg"
src="http://www.rzuser.uni-heidelberg.de/~mr8/hearts2.gif"></center><br><br><br>
<center>
<table borderleft=5 width=800 bgcolor="#111133" bordercolor="#0000FF"
bordercolordark="#000080" bordercolorlight="#0000FF"><tr><td><br><br>
<center><table border=0 width=80% bgcolor="#111133"><td><br>
<center><img id="ggu"
src="http://www.rzuser.uni-heidelberg.de/~mr8\plains.gif" width=320
height=220>
</center><br><br>
</td><td width=80%><table border=0 width=90% bgcolor="#111133"
align="right">
<font color="#ddddaa" size=+1 face="Monotype Corsiva"><p align="justify">
<b>At the same time near the capital...</font><br><br><font
color="#eebb44" size=+1 face="Monotype Corsiva">
The sound of the drums faded periodically with the wind.. Caressing the
dry grass on the soft slope it brought the warmer
air of the south. A sign that the rainy season of winter was almost over and
spring would soon arrive. The red moon had
appeared on the horizon some minutes ago, a colorful contrast to the late
evening gray of the plateau close to his home. It reminded him of
the warm ember in the fire place that waited for him in the suite in his
castle. However, this event also brought up serious
doubts about the future for his Clan
</b></p></font></table></td></table>
<center><table width=80% bgcolor="#111133"><td>
<font color="#eebb44" size=+1 face="Monotype Corsiva"><p
align="justify"><b>The hierophants told him several times
about the bad signs they had found. Good that he had
studied a lot to prepare for any future desaster.
He had tried to raise his magic intellect, so it would be easier for him to
learn spells than before. The future will tell, if it
will fruit. He also had thought out a plan to enhance the defense of the
capital. A moat will be very important to keep
any floods out. He also had developed plans for
offensive tactics that he hoped to surprise any new oponent with. The breeze
became chilly over a sudden as if to underline
the cold thoughts. Crayk wasn't the most practical person, mostly he
relied on his fantasy and intuition. He felt much
more comfortable when he was dreaming about new things, when his mind was
captured by images of a bright future
and sorrowless days. He had often walked across the plateau for days when he
</b></p></font></td></table></center>
<center><table border=0 width=80% bgcolor="#111133"><tr>
<td width=80%><table border=0 width=90% bgcolor="#220055" align="left">
<font color="#eebb44" size=+1 face="Monotype Corsiva"><p align="justify">
<b>was young. He enjoyed the freedom out there.
No visual border as far as the eye can see. That was good for his beloved
activity...dreaming. All the more he was
proud of himself with all the care that he was able to show for the future
safety of his people. His intuition had prooven
to be the right thing in good times. He was able to motivate the people with
his open-mindedness, his fantasies. He will
need that abilty even more in the future.
With that thought Crayk turned his head and looked back to the feast. The
Clan was celebrating the end of winter.
The dances would go on until dawn. </b></p></fontl></table></td>
<td><center><br><br><img id="ggg"
src="http://www.rzuser.uni-heidelberg.de/~mr8\plains2.gif"
width=300 height=316>
</center><br><br>
</td></table>
<center><table width=80% bgcolor="#111133"><td>
<font color="#eebb44" size=+1 face="Monotype Corsiva"><p align="justify"><b>
He refused to think as far as the next winter. He took a deep breath and
loked again at
the moon which had gained more color as
it ascended while he was buisy with his reflections. Usually he was filled
with romantic pictures when he saw this,
but the now more orange only reminded him again of the words of the
hierophants.
They had been too urging today. And then this dream about this creature
on the volcano...Well, for now he had done all he could do.
More decisions would be necessary later on.
He will then also have to make a very important choice. Should he fight
evil with evil or should he rely on the forces of
nature itself to be safe. Too big a question to be solved tonight, he told
himself. With this decision he could wait yet.
First thing would be to find other leaders he could count on. He would send
some of his scouts out this very month.
He hoped they would bring good knews. Until then he couldn't do much more
than wait and organize the local problems.
Tomorrow is another day, he thought. His mind became tired. He rather spent
the rest of his energy with more pleasant things.
He wanted to enjoy this night<br><br><br></p></fontl></td></table></center>
<hr width=90% color="#888888">
<br><br>
<table border=0 width=100% bgcolor="#111133"><tr>
<td width="40%"><center><img id="ggg"
src="http://www.rzuser.uni-heidelberg.de/~mr8/1tenswords150.gif"></center></td>
<td width="80%"><center><font color="#eebb44"><b><i>The Soulripping
<br><br><br>red eyes gazing after them<br>tracking them within<br>
cold rays burning through them<br>and their soul so thin<br>
is left opaque and black
<br><br><br><br>
roaring voice calling after them<br>rising very loud<br>
strong waves breaking through them<br>and words they try to shout
<br>are stucking in their neck
<br><br><br><br>
nightmares running through their mind<br>sneaking to their core<br>
their faith leaving them behind<br>and all that were before
<br>are turned into a
wreck<br><br></i></b></font></center></td></tr></table>
<br>
<hr width=90% color="#888888">
<center><table border=0 width=80% bgcolor="#111133"><tr>
<td><div align=left><img id="ggg"
src="http://www.rzuser.uni-heidelberg.de/~mr8/1wheel150.gif"></div></td>
<td width="80%"><center><font face="Times New Roman" size=+3
color="#eebb44"><b>The Temple of Crayk</b></font></center>
</td><td><div align=right><img id="ggg"
src="http://www.rzuser.uni-heidelberg.de/~mr8/1wheel150.gif"></div></td></tr></table></center>
<hr width=90% color="#888888"><p><center><table border=0 width=90%
bgcolor="#111133"><tr><td><blockquote><b>
<font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44">
Everyone in Yzaldra has to obey the divine laws. Using these
ancient rules is a way to gain power over the mind. Any dependence
outside
will chain your power within you. Disobedience of the divine laws
forces the master into
slavery.<br>
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#ddddaa">the law of balance
-
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44">if you pull, you
will
be pushed. If you flee, you will be hunted. Only if you are centered you
can
observe and truely decide upon your action.<br>
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#ddddaa">the law of choices
-
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44">if you do not
choose,
you will stand still. If you choose, stay commited until you choose to
quit.
There is no other force but your decision, that keeps you on your
way.<br>
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#ddddaa">the law of process
-
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44">if you step ahead,
you
leave behind. Every distance is covered by a chain of steps, the first
and
the last carrying you equally far.<br>
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#ddddaa">the law of presence
-
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44">if you live in your
past, you will never leave. If you live in your future, you will never
arrive. Only in the presence you can truely take a step forward.<br>
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#ddddaa">the law of
compassion -
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44">if you judge, you
will
be judged. Only the love for the whole will make you step beyond your
horizon.<br>
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#ddddaa">the law of faith -
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44">if you deny your
faith
you close yourself. If you accept your faith, you open up and progress
consciously.<br>
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#ddddaa">the law of
expectation
- </font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44">if you think you
will
fail, you will not arrive. Your way of thinking will determine the
outcome
of your action.<br>
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#ddddaa">the law of
integrity -
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44">if you betray the
laws,
it will be ten times more difficult to come to the same point in your
journey of life.<br>
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#ddddaa">the law of action -
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44">if you want to
enjoy
the summit, you need to make the climb. It's better to do what is best
than
not to do and have a good excuse.<br>
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#ddddaa">the law of cycles -
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44">if you want to
build
something everlasting, you will fail. Only when you change you will
grow.
Everything that you seed has to be harvested.<br>
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#ddddaa">the law of
surrender -
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44">if you accept your
challenge, you will find a way through. You first have to surrender in
order
to truely understand. It is the basis of every evolution.<br>
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#ddddaa">the law of unity -
</font><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44">if you act as if
you
are alone, you will be disconnected. You are connected to everything and
all
is a part of you. If you love the world, you will find love for
yourself.<br></b>
</font>
</p>
</td></tr></table></center>
<hr width=90% color="#888888"><br>
<center><img id="ggg"
src="http://www.rzuser.uni-heidelberg.de/~mr8/1faceredsmall1.gif"></center>
<center><table border=0 width=80% bgcolor="#111133"><td><font
face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44"><p align="justify"><b>
<br><br>Dear wizard,<br>you might want to contact us. May it be for
help, support,
questions or mere love for writing, you are welcome to send back one of
our pigeons that we have supplied to you for your convinience. Just
stick the letter that you insert on the pergament below to the back of
the pigeon. There should be a small leather pocket that is attached to
the animals body. Our pigeons
are well trained and should find their way back to the plains. Too bad
they cannot talk, as it would make the exploration of our surroundings
to get a map unnecesssary.
We hope to receive news from you soon...
<br><br>
</b></p></font></td></table></center>
<form method="POST" action="mailto:Wolfgang.Kirsch@urz.uni-heidelberg.de"
name="WoW Game 67 Blurb" enctype="text/plain">
<center><font face="Monotype Corsiva" color="#eebb44"><b>Player number:
<input type="text" name="player_no" size="2" maxlength="2" style="color:
#eebb44; font-family: Monotype Corsiva; background-color: #220044;
font-weight: bold; font-size: +16; text-align: left;
border-style: outset; border-color: #6666aa"><p>
Wizards name:</b></font>
<input type="text" name="wizard_name" size="30" maxlength="40"
style="color: #eebb44; font-family: Monotype Corsiva; background-color:
#220044; font-weight: bold; font-size: +16; text-align: left;
border-style: outset; border-color: #6666aa">
<p>
<center>
<p align="center"><font face="Monotype Corsiva"><textarea rows="12"
name="WoW Game 67 Blurb" cols="80"
style="color: #eebb44; font-family: Monotype Corsiva;
background-color: #220044; font-weight: bold; font-size: +16;
text-align: left;
border-style: outset; border-color: #6666aa">Greetings Wizard,
to send a message to me just remove this text and type in your own
words. When you are finished with your letter, click on the
'Let the pigeon fly' button and your message will reach me.
Respectfully, Crayk.
P.S.: Not all browsers support this feature...</textarea></font></p>
<p align="center"><font face="Morpheus"><input type="submit"
value="LET THE PIGEON FLY" name="#LET THE PIGEON FLY#"
style="font-family: Morpheus; color: #eebb44; font-weight:
bold; background-color: #220044; border-style: outset;
border-color: #6666aa"><input
type="reset" value="RESET" name="#RESET#"
style="font-family: Morpheus; color: #eebb44; font-weight:
bold; background-color: #220044; border-style: outset;
border-color: #6666aa"></font></p>
</form>
</td></tr></table>
</center>
</td></tr></table>
</center>
</td></tr></table>
</center>
kkkkk
<pre>
</PRE><P>
Contact Crayk at <a href="mailto:wolfspace@excite.com">wolfspace@excite.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player24"></A><H3> PLAYER 24 - <A HREF="#Table">Sithek uth Mater</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</pre><p align=center><b><font color="#FF6600"><font
size=+4>T</font></font></b><font color="#FFCC00"><font size=+2>wilight of
the Elves, Reign of the Last Elven Lord<p><p align=CENTER><br><img
SRC="http://www.geocities.com/bill081470/ace7.jpg" HSPACE=5 VSPACE=5
height=188 width=264 align=CENTER><P><b><font color="#FFCC00"><font
size=+2>I</font></font></b><font color="#FF6600"><font size=+0>n an age long
past. A lone figure stood atop a windswept mountain, on the continent of
Cirkas, in the land of Alustria - <font color="#FFCC00"> The Land of Light
<font
color="#FF6600"> - staring at the boundless,
rolling seas, reflecting, silently on a time even longer past. The last of
his kind, the last of the First Age<p><p align=CENTER><br><img
SRC="http://www.geocities.com/bill081470/misc2.jpg"
HSPACE=5
VSPACE=5 height=188 width=264 align=CENTER><p><b><font color="#FF6600"><font
size=+2>M</font></font></b><font color="#FFCC00"><font size=+0>any
millennium ago, before the time of men.....before any of
the lesser humanoid races came into existance....the Elves had roamed all
the lands of all the worlds. Their Civilization, it's culture, it's beauty
and it's passions, their knowledge and power of magics...equalled only by
the Kingdoms of the Ancient Dragons.<p><b><font
color="#FFCC00"><font size=+2>A</font></font></b><font
color="#FF6600">lustria herself was
one land in that Age. Peace, beauty, and tranquility dominated those far
away times. The lands had stretched, forever-joined, in one great
continent. Not the fractured Ilses floating amidst the rolling seas, as
today.<p><b><font color="#FF6600"><font size=+2>I</font></font></b><font
color="#FFCC00"><font size=+0>t 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 - a self imposed exile from life - an attempt to stem the tide of
Fate
which threatened every day to sweep them into the past. A day didn't go by
that reports were not received of elves, sometimes whole tribes, gone
missing, disappearing into mists, never seen again. A Fate soon to be
shared by the Elves......The Dragons' Doom.<p><b><font
color="#FF6600"><font size=+2>D</font></font></b><font
color="#FFCC00">ragon's Doom,<font color="#FF6600"> Sithek uth Mater<font
color="#FFCC00"> mused. Not aptly named. Better it were called, 'The
Doom of Elves and Dragons,' for we share the same end. Both our Races were
touched by
the corruption, the Elves, just less...'dramatically'. The
corruption kills us slower, nothing else.<p><b><font color="#FF6600"><font
size=+2>W</font></font></b><font color="#FFCC00"><font size=+0>e shared in
the folly, but
attempt to claim innocence by ignoring our part, ignoring our fate. As
if, the corruption of the Weave could be changed, ignored, by simply
calling that one act arrogance, at both our races' pinnacles' of power, the
'Dragons
Doom'.<p><b><font color="#FF6600"><font size=+2>B</font></font></b><font
color="#FFCC00"><font size=+0>oth our races thought to live for eternity...a
millennium of life, was not enough, we had to have forever, we sought to
remove our Races from the Weave of Magic that gives all the world's life.
In
doing so we broke the order, the balance. We shattered this world, we
shattered the life force, the Weave itself.<p><b><font color="#FF6600"><font
size=+2>I</font></font></b><font color="#FFCC00"><font size=+0>n doing so,
we created Good and Evil, Light and Dark, we destroyed the balance. The
Elves and Dragons
created the lesser races.<p><b><font color="#FF6600"><font
size=+2>H</font></font></b><font color="#FFCC00"><font size=+0>e could not
control
Fate, but he could ensure that when the flames of the Elven Peoples died
out
forever, the flames burn was strong an powerful, leaving their memory
imprinted upon the world, forever.<p><b><font color="#FF6600"><font
size=+2>T</font></font></b><font color="#FFCC00"><font size=+0>o that end,
he had dedicated the last eons of his life.....mastering his destiny.
Fighting the Eternal War between the Dark and the Light. His destiny....the
fight that rage within his immortal sundered soul, forever spilt in two
halevs, the Dark and the Light mirrored the struggles of all the world's of
this Age and all Ages to come.<p><b><font color="#FFCC00"><font
size=+2>M</font></font></b><font color="#FF6600"><font size=+0>any long
years later, alone once again, atop the windswept cliffs of Yzaldra,<font
color="#FFCC00"> Sithek uth Mater<font
color="#FF6600">, sat amidst the backdrop
of a twilight sky, reflecting on the Tides of Fate and his destiny, the
destiny of the <font color="#FFCC00"> Last Elven Lord<font
color="#FF6600">. Preparing for the last battle on this world, in this
age.<p><b><font color="#FF6600"><font size=+2>H</font></font></b><font
color="#FFCC00"><font size=+0>e thought if the Yzaldran Armies. How, over
the years he had brought many of the Lost Elven Tribes back into the embrace
of his Kingdom. The Lord High Marshal Beormir had proven a valiant field
commander, conquering the Gnomes in the south as well as the Astral
haunts.<p><b><font color="#FF6600"><font size=+2>H</font></font></b><font
color="#FFCC00"><font size=+0>e had aligned himself and his kingdom with all
manner of peoples, both Dark and Light. It did not matter, only the last
battle concerned.<font color="#FF6600"> He must defeat the Necromancer
Czazarius, else this world of light would plunge forever into darkness.<font
color="#FFCC00"> Great structures had arisen all over the Kingdom, and
Yzaldra prospered. Everything proceeded towards the final
battle.<p><b><font color="#FFCC00"><font
size=+2>Y</font></font></b><font color="#FF6600"><font size=+0>et, this
night, He could feel something was terribly wrong.<p><b><font
color="#FF6600"><font
size=+2>A</font></font></b><font color="#FFCC00"><font size=+0>s he prepared
his mind for the final assault on the evil Necromancer, the Dark Dwarves of
the UnderDeep, and the skeletons that plagued the countryside, he began to
feel an ominious foreboding deep within himself...and he dreaded it. For he
knew it's meaning...<p><b><font color="#FF6600"><font
size=+2>T</font></font></b><font color="#FFCC00"><font size=+0>he mists were
calling him to another war, another world.<p><b><font color="#FF6600"><font
size=+2>"NO!"</font></font></b><font color="#FFCC00"><font size=+0> he
screamed to the heavens,<font color="#FF6600"> "It is not yet time. It is
too soon! If I leave now, all will be lost to the darkness!"<p><p
align=center><b><font color="#FF6600"><font size=+2>B</font></font></b><font
color="#FFCC00"><font size=+1>ut alas, the Fates would not be denied, the
swirling Mists came.<p><b><font color="#FF6600"><font
size=+2>W</font></font></b><font color="#FFCC00"><font size=+0>ith a cry of
rage and anguish, heard throughout all the realms of Alustria, Lord Sithek
uth Mater, Druid King, Last Elven Lord wrenched his corporeal body from the
Mists and would not be claimed from this world before he saw the darkness
flee.<p><p align=center><b><font color="#CC5599"><font
size=+2>B</font></font></b><font color="#CC1177"><font size=+1>ut the act
unleashed an unspeakable horror...the Dark Soul of Sithek uth Mater<p><p
align=CENTER><br><img SRC="http://www.geocities.com/bill081470/pirotes9.jpg"
HSPACE=5
VSPACE=5 height=188 width=314 align=CENTER><P><b><font color="#CC5599"><font
size=+2>F</font></font></b><font color="#CC1177"><font size=+0>ar away from
the lands of<font color="#FFCC00"> Alustria<font color="#CC1177"> the
Darkest portion of the Last Eleven Lord's soul, took flight, landing in the
deep Underdark of the Fractured Lands of Darkness...<font
color="#FF0011">Shadowmoth<p><b><font color="#CC5599"><font
size=+2>F</font></font></b><font color="#CC5599"><font size=+0>ree...free at
last, <font color="#CC1177">he thought to himself, <font
color="#CC5599">This body will serve me well.<P><font color="#CC5599"><font
size=+2>R</font></font></b><font color="#CC1177"><font size=+0>id of the
<font color="#CC5599">Goodness, <font color="#CC1177">that had plagued him
for so many centuries, Sithek revelled in the freedom and feel of his new
Dark Eleven body.<p><b><font color="#CC5599"><font
size=+2>B</font></font></b><font color="#CC1177"><font size=+0>efore he had
fled <font color="#FFCC00">Alustria,<font color="#CC1177"> he had managed,
to wrench
the darkest parts of the souls of his centuries long mate - Lady Galadriel,
the Seeress and his most vicious General, Beormir uth Nar - a more cruel and
barbarous killer the heavens had never seen. What others, of his
companions, had escaped Alustria he did not know.<p><b><font
color="#CC5599"><font size=+2>H</font></font></b><font color="#CC1177"><font
size=+0>e would need to find them in this world and bring them to his banner
that they may fight alongside him, in the <font color="#FF0011">Bloodbath
War<font color="#CC1177"> that was to come.<p><b><font color="#CC5599"><font
size=+2>H</font></font></b><font color="#CC1177"><font size=+0>e would need
have to begin the conquest of his neighbors, immediately. Strengthen his
military, grow the might of his magics, and ensure the prosperity of his new
kingdom.<p><b><font color="#CC5599"><font size=+2>W</font></font></b><font
color="#CC1177"><font size=+0>ith that final thought, he arose from the
chamber he was in and went to investigate his new stronghold<p><p
align=CENTER><br><img SRC="http://www.geocities.com/bill081470/misc3.jpg"
HSPACE=5
VSPACE=5 height=188 width=264 align=CENTER><P><p align=center><b><font
color="#CC5599"><font size=+6>I</font></font></b><font color="#CC1177"><font
size=+4>t Begins!<PRE>
</PRE><P>
Contact Sithek uth Mater at <a href="mailto:bill0814@msn.com">bill0814@msn.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player25"></A><H3> PLAYER 25 - <A HREF="#Table">Balin Longhammir</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</pre>
<HR width="80%" align="center"><p></p>
<center><table width="800" border="4"
BACKGROUND="http://home.ptd.net/~dasmudge/bgblue.gif" >
<tr><td>
<center><table width="650" border="0"><center>
<tr>
<td>
<FONT COLOR="#A3A3A7"FACE="baskerville old face"SIZE="+1>
<align=left>
<center><img src="http://home.ptd.net/~dasmudge/chizelb.gif" width="650"
height="40"></center>
<br><img src="http://home.ptd.net/~dasmudge/mistleA.gif" width="400"
height="300" align=right>
<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br>The Dwarven Fortress of
Mistlevein sits as a guardian atop the Karigar Mountain's ridgeline.
This legendary city overlooks the haunted moors of Billik that define the
northern reaches, while the barren Flashmir wastes stretch to the seas to
our south.
Her walls and turrets bear the scars of many famous battles between the
Dwarves and the raiding Orcs of the moors during the Great War...
<br><br><center><img src="http://home.ptd.net/~dasmudge/chizelb.gif"
width="600" height="35"></center><br>
A brief history...</p><p><br><img
src="http://home.ptd.net/~dasmudge/cstlesm.gif" align=right
width="120" height="122">
We, the Hill Dwarven Clan IronHarp, have resided in the Fortress city of
Mistlevein since before the time of recorded history.
Caravans would climb the treacherous mountain passes just to trade for our
crafts. Kings and noble warriors (and not so noble)
would seek out the works of our Smiths and our Tradesmen and reward even the
least skillful with riches.
Fathers would beg us to take in their sons as apprentices, and pay us
handsomely in food, wood, or any other provision that we requested.
To this end, we did not have to farm or hunt to sustain the Clan. These were
the good days. We all had gold to spend or to lend, and time to craft
beautiful artifacts or trinkets that we always wanted to, besides from the
weapons, armor and other objects that kept the coffers full.
We started a tradition to create toys that were distributed to the children
of the Isles at Midwinter.
</p><p><br>
Then came the dark days...After the banishment of the Dreadlord, several
races felt it was their right to take the place of this "Lord of the Isles."
These desires ultimately lead to the beginning of the Great War.
</p><p><br>
The Hill Dwarves, having seen the demand for their weapons and armor
increase with each passing month, began to work furiously to keep up with
these demands.
Dwarves worked tirelessly throughout the night as a steady stream of
caravans climbed the worn twisted paths to the mountain fortress.
The coffers of the Hill Dwarves overflowed with gold and the warehouses were
flush with food and goods.
</p><p><br>
The Dark armies of the Dreadlord, now existing without the control of their
master, took to raiding and looting the isles of Shadowmoth.
The armies of the Orcs carved a home in the Billik moors and set their
greedy eyes upon the wealth of Mistlevein.
</p><p><br>
Month after month the Orcs came, raiding the border shires and destroying
the caravans.
The siege of Mistlevein had begun. The Dwarves were not only cut off from
their customers and allies, they were also isolated from their sustaining
resources.
</p><p><br>
Eventually, the Dwarves broke the siege. They drove the remnants of the Orc
army back into the moors.
Not satisfied with routing the Orcs, the Hill Dwarven Legions charged into
the swamps.
</p><p><br>
Several months later, the Dwarven victory flag flew above the rubbled walls
of Mistlevein, and the Orc warlord's head sat on a pike outside of the
city's gates.
</p><p><br>
<center><img src="http://home.ptd.net/~dasmudge/chizelb.gif" width="600"
height="35"></center>
<img src="http://home.ptd.net/~dasmudge/irnhpaxe.gif" width="400"
height="300" align=left>
<br><br>Tales of this legendary Clan claim many manifestations on several
worlds.
They have fought the legions of Arragoth and the treachery of some, from the
swamps of Jollymount.
After this victory, Lord Grimnir Longhammir sent his son, Balin, and his
best legions into the fiery portal to press the attack on Arragoth and his
minions.
Balin, expecting Arragoth to be the true enemy, found a much more powerful
adversary on this world.
A large shadow formed over the lands and quenched the fire of life from all
that it touched. Facing an enemy he truly could not fight, he gathered his
Clansmen and sent them through a dimensional gate of his making.
Alone, Balin fought the encroaching shadow, only to be pushed through this
gate into the realm of Shadowmoth.
</p><p><br>
The pride of this Clan lies in the knowledge that we have always been true
to all our allies and a driven foe to all that have opposed.
We will open our homes to you and protect you and your kin from danger from
any source. This, I promise.
</p><p><br>
<center><img src="http://home.ptd.net/~dasmudge/chizelb.gif" width="600"
height="35"></center><br>
I have been chosen...
</p><p><br><img src="http://home.ptd.net/~dasmudge/balin2.gif" align=right
width="260" height="200">
I have been chosen, for I am the third born son of Grimnir Longhammir.
My instructors have spoken of a "gift", which I along with my Father only
possess.
Because of this "gift", I have been chosen to pass through the fiery portal
and to take the fight to Arragoth himself.
</p><p><br>
The Druid council knows little of what lay on the other side of this portal.
I will soon find out...
</p><p><br>
So I have...It wasn't pretty.
</p><p><br>
I have found myself thrust into the world of Shadowmoth. My Clan has
settled in the ruins of Mistlevein.
A city rich in Dwarven history on this world. A city that had withstood
your Great War and the siege of the Orcs, only to be conquered by Time and
attrition.
The scrolls that remain have spoken of the devastation that befell your
world.
The allies of Mistlevein were conquered or dispersed, their caravans stopped
ascending the path to her gates.
The Dwarves having to gather provisions and food themselves, were forced to
leave the Karigar Mountain and settle in greener fields.
Leaving Time to complete her work on the city that never fell.
</p><p><br>
Now I take as my task, to regain the glory that was once Mistlevein.
</p><p><br>
Mistlevein has been reborn.
<br><br>
<br><center><img src="http://home.ptd.net/~dasmudge/chizelb.gif" width="600"
height="35"></center><br>
<br>To contact the Hill Dwarves of Mistlevein or Clanlord Balin
Longhammir... </p><p>
<a href="mailto:dasmudge@ptd.net">dasmudge@ptd.net</a>
<br><br>
<br><br>
</table>
</td></tr></table></center>
<br>
</font><br><HR></font></font>
<pre>
</PRE><P>
Contact Balin Longhammir at <a href="mailto:dasmudge@ptd.net">dasmudge@ptd.net</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player26"></A><H3> PLAYER 26 - <A HREF="#Table">Baron Shadowrunner</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
</PRE><P>
Contact Baron Shadowrunner at <a href="mailto:mccool@iowatelecom.net">mccool@iowatelecom.net</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player27"></A><H3> PLAYER 27 - <A HREF="#Table">Alodar the Apprentice</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
*grmph* 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... Well, 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 long ago I lost count of which me is really me, and which me is a clone of
a clone of a clone... Not that it really matters, it is kind of interesting to
have so many lives to choose memories from...
But this seems really strange - I both have a deja vu feeling of having been
here before and a jamais vu feeling of never having been here before... None
of my previous memories seem to quite fit this setting ?! Don't tell me I have
finally landed in the NYPD world *chuckle* - "knock on wood"...
Speaking of wood, there seems to be lots of it around - hmm, there is another
strange thing too, I do feel a certain sense of claustrophobia (*shudder*) but
this is clearly overground so I wonder why... ?!
Well, I'd better start walking around, and soon I'll no doubt either bump into
something, or so that something will bump into me...
-Be still, human, or this arrow will penetrate your heart!
Hmm, at the very least this can't be the NYPD world then, in that case the
voice would have said - ahem... _hollered_, something like "-Freeze, you
<expletives deleted> or I'll blow your brains out!"
-Take it easy, whoever you are, I am no threat to your forest!
-That remains to be seen - turn around slowly, and no quick movements...
-OK, but is it OK if I cast a quick spell *ZAP!!* just as a precaution should
you accidentally (or deliberately) fire that arrow... And don't worry, once
we have completed our little discussion I'll be happy to unpetrify that bow
for you again (provided we have come to an agreement of course) ...
-Aaarghh, a human wizard in our forests - what is this world coming to?
-Well, to tell the truth, I have no idea even which world this is, so would
you mind filling me in on some worldly details?
-Strange wizard you are indeed - petrifying my bow with merely a *ZAP!* but
not knowing where you are... Anyway, this is the world of Shadowmoth, and we
are its only surviving tribe of wood elves in this extremely crowded world,
where as many as 51 tribes compete for living space in a merciless war of
their wizards...
-Well, I guess that explains both the twing of claustrophobia and the strange
combined feeling of deja and jamais vu... A WoW world with 51 wizards is
enough to give anyone a sense of claustrophobia, and none of my clones has
ever heard of wood elves before...
-Pardon me, sir... ?!
-Never mind... By the way, Alodar the Apprentice is the name, and if past
experience is something to go by you presumably just happen to have a chair
of wizardry just waiting to be filled ?!
-Well, not exactly, our current wizard is alive, well and able - well, at least
he is alive and well... Well, actually he _is_ alive - sort of... Maybe your
arrival is quite a lucky coincidence after all!
-OK, take me to your capital then, and I'll see what I can do... Ehh, what is
this place called?
-Rivers Grove, proud capital of the (well, at least once) proud wood elves, oh
mighty wizard! If we walk in that direction, we will be there in maybe half
an hour... Ehh, would you mind unpetrify my bow for me before that - the city
elders are quite touchy about destroying wood, and if I came back with my bow
in that condition, I'd no doubt be sentenced to being turned into an ent...
-OK *!PAZ* There you are - would you mind filling me in on some more details
while we walk...
[Approximately 42 minutes later]
-Thank you for the briefing, fella! So this magificent wooden creation is your
magic college - your previous wizard must have been an architect in an earlier
clonecar... ehh, incarnation, I mean! Well, if what you told me about him is
correct, I'll just gently move him out and plant him in a lush setting near
the river, and he'll hopefully live happily ever after... And then I'll get on
with the urgent business of filling your chair of wizardry with an active
wizard again!
Hmm, this must be the library... Now where do I start - hmm, this title looks
familiar:
"A Short Introduction to the Foundations of Shadow Magick".
"A short introduction" - that sounds good! I like them short and snappy - wait,
what says the fine print...
"Volume XXVII of LI"...
*Sigh* Yet another strange feeling of deja vu and jamais vu at the same time...
Wonder what is the reason for it this time? Well, I guess there is just one
way to find out *grmph* - now where did I put my spectacles... ?!
</PRE><P>
Contact Alodar the Apprentice at <a href="mailto:rwikman@ra.abo.fi">rwikman@ra.abo.fi</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player28"></A><H3> PLAYER 28 - <A HREF="#Table">Wandor</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</pre>
<font color="#CC1000">
<h3 ALIGN=CENTER>A magical message</h3></font>
<font color="#FFCC00">
<b><font color="#FF9900" size=+1>T</font></b>he
void flickers. More and more stars appear, at first in infinite distance,
then coming closer. Among the dazzling white stars you find radiating balls
of various colours. Red nebulae of unfamiliar shapes float beneath you.
And suddenly, a white-bearded man in a dark robe appears in front of you.
<p><img SRC="http://www.hesebeck.de/wow/wizard.jpg"
HSPACE=5 VSPACE=5 height=188 width=314 align=LEFT>
<font color="#FFCC00">"</font>
<strong><font color="#FF5500" size=+1>G</font><font color="#FF1000">reetings,
fellow wizard!</font></strong>" The full, baritonale voice
echos in the infinite universe of your vision. "<font color="#FF1000">I
am Wandor, guardian of the Cristal
of Time and Space. From <i>Vlazar</i> deep below the surface of Shadowmouth I
am calling you...</font>"
</p><p><font color="#FF9900" size=+1>S</font>uddenly 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.
</p><p>"<font color="#FF5500" size=+1>O</font><font color="#FF1000">nly
recently I discovered Shadowmouth which is not the world of my
origin. I have been looking for a refuge for quite a while since the
war on Alustria has turned to my disadvantage. Shadowmouth seems to be
a quiet place yet, but it reminds me too much of Alustria's deceiving
peace only three years ago. This time I shall be better prepared! My
guards will be more than a few nomads who try to live harmony with
nature, and the power of my magic will cause any potential attacker to
think twice.</p>
<p><font color="#FF5500" size=+1>I</font>n
the dark caverns of Shadowmouth I found a small town named Vlazar
inhabitated by dark elves. That village would never have drawn my
attention had there not been the ancient, dome shaped castle
overlooking the settlement. The fortress was clouded by dark mists,
and not even the elven priestesses dared to enter that place of
power. Defeating the guardian and evading the magical traps was not
difficulty for me with the secret knowledge which I had gathered on
Alustria.</font>"
</p><p><font color="#FF9900" size=+1>F</font>or a moment the old man
seems to be lost in thought, before he
looks straight at you again. "<font color="#FF1000">Shadowmouth 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.</font>"
</p><p><font color="#FF9900" size=+1>T</font>he glowing ball wavering
between the wizard's
gnarled hands turns to a dark red colour, and lightning flashes between
the distant stars. "<font color="#FF1000">I must leave
now.</font>"
The old man looks worriedly around. "<font color="#FF1000">You may
send a <a href="mailto:olaf@hesebeck.de">messenger</a> to Vlazar. The
caverns are safe to travel for a few
more weeks, but I fear that soon there will be war.</font>" In an instant his
image is gone, and the stars fade. You open your eyes and recognize the
familiar sight of your study chamber.<br></p>
<font color="#22BB22">
<h3 ALIGN=CENTER>Reports from the underworld</h3></font>
<p><font color="#FF9900" size=+1>T</font>he magical message left an uneasy feeling.
Did the wizard know what you had just been reading? This is impossible, you assure
yourself and turn your attention again to the small sheets of parchment on your desk. Only
a few hours ago the report of Agomax Stonebreaker been delivered by an owl. Although
noone expects this talent from a dwarf, Agomax is one of your best spies and
currently on a mission in the underworld of Shadowmouth.
</p><p>"<font color="#22EE22" size=+1>T</font><font color="#22BB22">he shadow
claw, a huge system of caverns deep below the surface of Shadowmouth, is said to be a
place of terror, inhabitated only by dark elves and other dangerous creatures. But the rumours
don't tell the entire truth. Hidden in the shadows there are small settlements of dwarves and
gnomes, where the tired traveler can find shelter for the night. There are no safe roads,
of course, and the dark elves keep a vigilant watch at the borders of their realms.
It seems that the four dark elven houses have been at war against each other for centuries
now while maintaining a fragile balance of powers.
<p><font color="#22EE22" size=+1>O</font>nce I had passed the gates of Vlazar, it was easier
than expected to gather the requested information. The dark elves have lots of dwarven slaves
and don't pay attention to any dwarf who seems just to be doing his job. The city is growing
fast, and most of the buildings are constructed by dwarves. The new ruler - it's strange
that Vlazar is not governed by a priestess as custom demands - does not hesitate to empty
Vlazar's treasure for his ambitious plans. Lot's of military buildings have been planned,
and the gossip on the street focusses on the question whether Xlazar or Blazar will be the
first victim on their ascend to power.
</p><p><font color="#22EE22" size=+1>T</font>omorrow I will try to enter the castle. I hope
that behind the dark mists clouding the ancient fort I will not only find the answer to
the question of war, but also discover the identity of the new ruler.
</font>"</p>
</font>
<pre>
</PRE><P>
Contact Wandor at <a href="mailto:olaf@hesebeck.de">olaf@hesebeck.de</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player29"></A><H3> PLAYER 29 - <A HREF="#Table">Yrkoon, Lord of Chaos</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</pre>
<table border=5 cellspacing=5 bgcolor=red>
<tr>
<td>
<br>
<table border=0 bgcolor=black cellspacing=0 align=center width=98%>
<tr>
<td><font color=black>xxx</font></td>
<td colspan=3> <font color=#F5DEA3>
<pre>
Chaos
swirling between dark and light,
Binary oppositions combine,
Chaos
Creating space, swirling through time,
Constant existance,
Denys human minds.
-Kam
</pre>
<hr>
<FONT SIZE=5>
<CENTER>
Welcome, Wizard, to the domain of Yrkoon, Lord of Chaos!<br>Welcome to
Cleaver!<br>
</CENTER>
</FONT>
<FONT SIZE=4>
<p>You'll soon learn that Chaos shall rule the world. Chaos can't fail, the
only
question is, <i>Are you on the right side when the battle will start? </b>
Are you strong enough to survive, strong enough to rule? If you think you
are,
send <a href="mailto:yrkoon@goldmail.de">me </a> a message introducing
yourself.
What's your name? On which plane is your castle? The lords of Chaos will
need
allies everywhere, but beware! Once you show weakness you might as well be
their
next sacrifice.
</FONT>
</td>
<td><font color=black>xxx</font></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><font color=black>xxx</font></td>
<td colspan=3>
<hr width=80% size=1>
<table align=center border=2>
<tr><td>
<center><font color=#F5DEA3><i>
"... the Earth is forever changing. The Eternal War is the only constant in
Earth's many histories, taking a multitude of forms
and names."
</i><br>-Michael Moorcock, <i><b>"Phoenix in Obsidian"</b>
</i></font></center>
</td></tr>
</table>
<hr width=80% size=1>
</td>
<td><font color=black>xxx</font></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><font color=black>xxx</font></td>
<td>
<table border=0 bgcolor=black>
<tr>
<td><img src="http://people.freenet.de/tgo/chaoswarriors.jpg">
<br><center>The Horde.</center>
</td>
<td>
<DIV align=justify>
<strong><font color=red>"LORD ARIOCH, ARCHDUKE OF CHAOS, PRINCE OF
DARKNESS, YOUR SERVANTS SUMMON YOU! WE MAKE YOU A PRE
SENT OF THIS WORLD! WE PAY OUR TRIBUTE TO YOUR! WE OFFER YOU MILLIONS OF
SOULS! WE OFFER BLOOD AND TERROR! TAKE EVERYTHING WEAK
AS YOUR TOLL! ACCEPT OUT STRENGTH AS A GIFT! GRANT TO US YOUR ASSISTANCE,
LORD ARIOCH! SEND OUT THE HORDES OF CHAOS INTO WAR AND
OVERWHELM ORDER ONCE AND FOR ALL"!<br></strong></font>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</td>
<td><font color=black>xxx</font></td>
<td width=490><font color=#F5DEA3>
<DIV align=justify><font color=#F5DEA3>
When his call was answered by thr Prince of Darkness, Yrkoon felt better
than ever before. Chaos was strong in this world. Stronger than ever
before.
Even the better, the other lords had sent a message, a call for joining
forces. One of the lords he knew from a alternate plane as a strong
leader
and tactician, who had defeated his troops in a swift attack. It was
good to
have him on his side.
<DIV align=justify><font color=#F5DEA3>
He looked at all the creatures that were impatiently waiting for the war
to
begin. It was just too easy, none of his important regiments would take
any
losses during the first year, just those puny little slaves that build
the
first wave of Chaos.
</font>
</td>
<td><font color=black>xxx</font></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><font color=black>xxx</font></td>
<td>
<table border=0 cellspacing=0>
<tr>
<td colspan=2>
<font color=red><cite>"For Chaos, for Chaos!" </cite> He called.
<cite>"I, Yrkoon, have returned! Now I will lead you agains
t our enemies. Now we will archieve complete victory!"</cite></font><br>
</td>
</tr>
<td>
<img src="http://people.freenet.de/tgo/chaosmarauders.jpg">
</td>
<td>
<DIV align=justify><font color=#F5DEA3>
And they came. Hordes of warriors swarmed the land, marauding.
Mankind
fled in despair whenever the hordes crossed it's path. Those who
were
foolish enough to fight learned that the ressources of Chaos seemed
endless. Small kobolds were fighting side by side with mindless
zombies,
while huge bats were covering the sun. Squads of fierce warriors
were
conquering the land, their path cleared by huge regiments of chaos
knights. Songs of war were once again heared all over the land.
</font>
</td>
</table>
</td>
<td><font color=black>xxx</font></td>
<td>
<img src="http://people.freenet.de/tgo/chaosknights.jpg">
</td>
<td><font color=black>xxx</font></td>
</tr>
</table>
<br>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<pre>
_________________________________________________________________
Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com/intl.asp
</PRE><P>
Contact Yrkoon, Lord of Chaos at <a href="mailto:jegron@hotmail.com">jegron@hotmail.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player30"></A><H3> PLAYER 30 - <A HREF="#Table">Hazaar</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
</PRE><P>
Contact Hazaar at <a href="mailto:jhenson@calpoly.edu">jhenson@calpoly.edu</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player31"></A><H3> PLAYER 31 - <A HREF="#Table">Saruman</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</PRE>
<table width=100% cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0 leftmargin=0 bgcolor="#000000"
background="http://astronomy.swin.edu.au/pbourke/texture/marble/marble35.jpeg" WIDTH="96"
HEIGHT="98" text="#FFFFFF" link="#0000ff" vlink="#800080" alink="#00ffff"><tr>
<td width=100 valign=top> </td>
<td>
<hr align=center width=80% color="#CC0000">
<h1 align=center><font face="Old English" color="#FFFFFF">The First of the Five</font></h1>
<table width="100%"><tr>
<td align=left><h4><font face="Helvetica" color="#FF0000">*</font></h4></td>
<td align=right><h4><font face="Helvetica" color="#FF0000">*</font></h4></td>
</tr></table>
<CENTER><IMG SRC="http://members.spree.com/thearts/kristyart/skeletons/lion_skeleton.jpg"
WIDTH=461 HEIGHT=241></CENTER>
<font color="#FFFFFF">
<P><BR><CENTER><H1>Saruman the White</CENTER></H1>
<H2>Once again the Valar show their Will and Might and have begun a great history in a new
world.</H2>
<H3>In the Land of Shadowmoth, New Forces arrive.</H3>
<H4>A New Mission</H4>
<P>The Council of the Wise has chosen two Wizards to bring peace and order to this
chaotic land. With the assistance of the other good rulers of Shadowmoth peace
and prosperity will once again rule in this world.</P>
<P>In other realms Orthanc suffices, but here we must assist others to achieve the
Will of the Istari.</P>
<P>My researches in ring lore have revealed that The Ring of Seh Gulniv, forged in the Second Age
by Yyth Nao-Onden upon the
Forge of Grevyl, has made its way to this world. The search has begun.</P>
<FONT COLOR="#FF7070"><I><Q><P>"There was conflict between Manwë and Melkor, and Manwë called many
other
spirits into the World to aid him in his struggle. Among these were the other
Valar, and those of lesser order known as Maiar. Melkor then withdrew for a
time from Arda to some other hidden place in the deeps of Eä."</P>
<P>"In time, Manwë and his followers began to achieve their purpose, and make
the World ready for the coming of the Children. Seeing this, Melkor grew
jealous, and returned to do battle over the fate of Arda. The Earth then saw
great upheaval as the rival powers struggled over its destiny (it is thought
that the Misty Mountains were raised at this time). Slowly, though, and with
great hardship, the Valar succeeded in shaping the World, although everything
they created was in some way marred by Melkor."</P></Q></I></FONT>
<P>For a thousand years, and more, have I journeyed in the East.</P>
<P>I remember the words of Treb-yulay as if it were yesterday...</P>
<I><P>The window closed. They waited. Suddenly another voice spoke, low and melodious, its very
sound an enchantment. Those who listened unwarily to that voice could seldom report the words that
they heard; and if they did, they wondered, for little power remained in them. Mostly they
remembered only that it was a delight to hear the voice speaking, all that it said seemed wise and
reasonable, and desire awoke in them by swift agreement to seem wise themselves. When others spoke
they seemed harsh and uncouth by contrast; and if they gainsaid the voice, anger was kindled in
the hearts of those under the spell. For some the spell lasted only while the voice spoke to them,
and when it spoke to another they smiled, as men do who see through a juggler's trick while others
gape at it. For many the sound of the voice alone was enough to hold them enthralled; but for
those whom it conquered the spell endured when they were far away, and ever they heard that soft
voice whispering and urging them. But none were unmoved; none rejected its pleas and its commands
without an effort of mind and will, so long as its master had control of it.</P>
<P>'Well?' it said now with gentle question. 'Why must you disturb my rest? Will you give me no
peace at all by night or day? Its tone was that of a kindly heart aggrieved by injuries
undeserved.</P>
<P>They looked up, astonished, for they had heard no sound of his coming; and they saw a figure
standing at the rail, looking down upon them: an old man, swathed in a great cloak, the colour of
which was not easy to tell, for it changed if they moved their eyes or if he stirred. His face was
long, with a high forehead, he had deep darkling eyes, hard to fathom, though the look that they
now bore was grave and benevolent, and a little weary. His hair and beard were white, but strands
of black still showed about his lips and ears.</P>
</I>
<H4><BR>One Ring to rule them all,
<BR>One Ring to find them,
<BR>One Ring to bring them all
<BR>And in the darkness bind them. </H4>
<BR><CENTER><IMG SRC="http://members.spree.com/thearts/kristyart/skeletons/laying_skeleton.JPG"
WIDTH=464 HEIGHT=262></CENTER>
<H6><CENTER>"The Fallen Enemy"</CENTER></H6>
<hr align=center width=80% color="#CC0000">
<P><IMG align=left SRC="http://216.254.0.2/~ohh/isengard.jpg" WIDTH=162 HEIGHT=270>
<IMG align=right SRC="http://users.erols.com/nolan/hero/Saruman1.jpg" WIDTH=350 HEIGHT=492>
Gazing at the stars, I let my mind wander. The tip of the Leopard's
tail seemed a bit off, tucked a little, as if the cat was pensive or hunting.
It gave me an odd feeling — why had my attention been drawn to that rare
quarter, and why was Tenovin's Star displaced? Watching it more intently, I
became more and more convinced that the bright point of light was not as it
should be. But surely I was mistaken, an illusion caused by the fatigue of the
late hour or some other trick of the light or my weary mind. I hadn't had the
<I>trelila</I> for weeks though, and today had been clear and thoughtful.</P>
<P>So I made my way down the spiral steps, admiring the glistening of the well-oiled
Maire railing as usual. I can almost imagine drawing real strength from that
ancient wood, but of course I had tested during black <I>asana</I> and found
nothing on that level. Anyway, I came to the upper library and found a few star
charts of that region, two of which I had drawn myself many years ago from atop
the Ladder, before that entire mountainside erupted in flames.</P>
<P>Gaining the peak of the East Tower once again, I began comparing the charts with the eyes
that winked at me overhead. I quickly found a fair match to the first
chart from the Ladder, drawn (surprisingly) in a similar season and probably
within a fews hours of the current time. The time difference actually helped
a bit in this case, negating some of the slight effects of the precession since then.
It had been a rare late fall that night, nearly forty years ago, when the southern
skies had been clear enough to see, let alone map, the Hunter's Demesne.</P>
<P>Comparing the map with the night sky: Shawnal sat rightly on his throne, his
bow resting lightly by his side. I could see how the bow didn't quite touch
the ground, as if the Great Hunter had just then willed Trumthane into his left hand,
preparing to take prey or dispatch a poacher in the Wildwood. And Marchioness
Relina, reclining, only her arm extending from beneath the downy comforter, either
newly dead or nearly so, the assassin's miasm with already a mortal grasp on
her pure soul. Then Parduus himself, the Leopard, eyes bright and seeking.</P>
<P>I carefully checked each point, bright and barely visible alike, against the
records I had of what the sky <I>should</I> look like — even, at one point, holding up
a chart done on thin vellum, matching the appearance of stars through the skin,
although only the brightest could be seen with this method. In all, everything
looked proper and in place. Except one star: except the Tenovin! It truly
was off center, down and to the left nearly a ducal's width. This made no sense
to me. Clearly the star wasn't one of the Comets, sweeping across the Eastern
Port. Tenovin had been stable and known for thousands of years, even written of
in Heimle, in the Great Histories of the Elans. Called simply Cauda, back
then it was, yet still the same true and bright star.</P>
<P>Yet still that same ominous feeling held me. Something of import was here,
but what? I searched my memory for Caudal prophecies, yet none could be called
up. The few star prophecies of the Maural didn't fit. Hadar the Renk, also
known as the Leopard, had been long dead and actually of little import even while
he lived (though the people of the Lesser Kaines would likely, sadly, disagree).
So I sat and thought, and retired to the study by a warm fire to think some
more, yet still nothing came to me. <I>I must sleep on it</I>.</P>
<P>But it was hours later still, as I lay back in my wide chair, before Kantha
finally accepted me into his kingdom and I dreamt long of a leopard with no
spots walking a high wall, on watch for skittering spider imps that emerged
suddenly from the iridescent fog, only to reenter the haze on the opposite side
moments later, the leopard's efforts doing little to stem the flow of hordes of
the vile creatures towards their doomed prey.
</font>
</td>
</tr></table>
<PRE>
</PRE><P>
Contact Saruman at <a href="mailto:saruman_2000@yahoo.com">saruman_2000@yahoo.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player32"></A><H3> PLAYER 32 - <A HREF="#Table">Molinari</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
<p><center><font size=+1 color=#800000>Molinari the
Bloodletter</font></center></p>
<p><img src="http://www.en.com/users/mminar/art/orcs.jpg"
align=right><i>Thus it was that when Nahar neighed and Orome indeed came
among them, some of the Quendi hid themselves, and some fled and were
lost. But those that had courage, sand stayed, perceived swiftly that
the Great Rider was no shape out of darkness; for the light of Aman was
in his face, and all the noblest of the Elves were drawn to it.</i><br>
<i>But of those unhappy ones who were ensnared by Melkor little is
known of a certainty. For who of the living has descended into the pits
of Utumno, or has explored the darkness of the counsels of Melkor? Yet
this is held true by the wise of Eressea, that all those of the Quendi
who came ino the hands of Melkor, ere Utumno was broken, were put there
in prison, and by slow arts of cruelty were corrupted and enslaved; and
thus did Melkor breed the hideous race of the Orcs in envy and mockery
of the Elves, of whom they were afterwards bitterest foes. For the Orcs
had life and multiplied after the manner of the Children of Iluvator;
and naught that had life of its own, nor the semblence of life, could
ever Melkor make since his rebellion oin the Ainulindale before the
Beginning: so say the wise. And deep in their dark hearts the Orcs
loathed the Master whom they served in fear, the maker only of their
misery. This it may be was the vilest deed of Melkor, and the most
hateful to Iluvatar.</i><br><b><i>-The Silmarillion</i><b> <br>And into
unknown worlds did the Orcs spill through the vast and innumerable
passages of the deepest depths of Eressea. Into Shadowmoth did they then
come, through passages dark and wet with the blood of those that they
drove before them, for even unto this day does their hatred of the Elves
persist and pursue them they will unto the end of Time itself.<br>A great Orc
was born unto the nation of Evil, Molinari the Bloodletter. All Orcs
fell to his power and came unto him in that they might extinguish the
light of the Elves which occupied the cursed land above.</p>
<pre>Contact Molinari at <a
href="mailto:mminar@en.com">mminar@en.com</href></pre>
</PRE><P>
Contact Molinari at <a href="mailto:mminar@shell.core.com">mminar@shell.core.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player33"></A><H3> PLAYER 33 - <A HREF="#Table">Ordo Equester</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
Extract from the memoirs of Ordo Equester, Lord of the Gnomes of
Jungolimbols, as scribed by his obedient servant Penisthetool, first to find
his master on the blessed day of the fires in the sky....
"The sensation is strange indeed, to know that once you were all powerful,
even to challenging the son of a god. And yet, as I, Ordo Equester, sit in
this cold garret, atop this measly apology for a castle, my memories are
scattered as fragments of a crystal carelessly dropped to a stone floor. A
curse on that analogy, for the clearest memory of all is of that crowning
moment to years of effort, ah but that is for later.
This dictation may once again kindle the flame of ambition that once burned
so bright.
The Plainsmen of Grinola had bent to my every word, and built their meagre
town to be the greatest city on the Isles of Arragoth. They witnessed the
ease with which my alliance with Thurban II and Warduke had rid the world of
charlatans like Ra and Darkstar, mere dabblers in the magic arts.
Yes, they felt the fear as the Temple of Darkness rose alongside the Royal
Court, and the wonder as the Pyramid of Power grew to dwarf all other
building in the city. They shuddered in anticipation of their pain, as the
Sacrificial Altar was completed, and the dark shadow claimed the first of
its many victims.
But for all that, they rejoiced in the victories that my armies brought, and
the entertainers that roved the kingdom with tales of those victories, and
of the exploits of the dozens of heroes, from the conquest of enchanted
places to the mighty feats of arms and magic."
My master pauses for breath, and I see again the deep lines of exhaustion
that scarred his naked frame, the day he appeared as a ghostly form before
my eyes, slowly gaining depth until his body crashed to the ground, very
nearly into the fire burning in the great hearth!.
I am rewarded for caring for him, with the task of writing the prologue to
his new life, here amongst the Gnomes. If it pleases him, I may be allowed
to chronicle his life.
"Pen!. You daydream whilst your master speaks. have a care that I do not
sever your head from your shoulders, so that it can dream all it likes in
the latrine.
Now, as I was saying.Ah yes, the mighty feats of arms and magic. That was
the culmination of my power, and I gave them the chance to watch as the
image of Darkstar's city of Bulls Canyon shimmered in the air above the
market square. They saw the raw energy rise from the Pyramid of Power, and
counting as one counts the seconds between the lightning and the peel of
thunder, they fell silent as the Armageddon spell descended and as one they
turned from the brilliance of the light as it struck home. One by one they
gasped, as the picture slowly reformed, and they beheld the desolation and
carnage that I had wrought in the name of darkness.
I pronounced there and then that I would refine the spell further, and they
could watch in similar fashion as I eradicated the Son of Arragoth from the
Isles, his legions and all.
Maybe I had expected cheers of delight, but their utter silence was reward
enough, and as they shuffled off to the taverns and inns to contemplate what
they seen amongst their infernal chatter, I began to research ways to
improve the spell.
It was not as hard as I had imagined, a larger gem would increase the power
of the spell, and I sent couriers across the Isles to find the perfect stone
for my jewellers to cut into the precise shape required to focus the energy.
Soon the day dawned, and the plainsmen gathered, with emissaries from all
the lands arriving to witness the freeing of the Isles from the threat of a
godly awakening.
Standing atop the Pyramid of Power, I began the chant, and directed all my
thoughts into the crystal in my hands. Its subtle vibrations grew as the
energy was drawn from the very ether, and the colours of the rainbow danced
within the crystal.
Down below, in the market square, thousands stood open mouthed at the
spectacle before them. The image of the resting place of the godling hung in
the air, and many knew that his slumbers would be made permanent, as their
trust (or was it fear?) in their tyrant was absolute.
As the last words of the forgotten tongue left my lips, the throbbing of the
crystal became so intense that the very earth vibrated. It was then that I
saw my folly.
Not noticed in all the preparation, neither by the craftsmen who cut it, nor
myself as I inspected it; I could now see a distortion in the reflections of
light within the crystal facets, and instead of channelling the energy into
a synchronous beam that would emit from the pyramidic tip of the gem, the
living power had found another exit.
Looking fleetingly at the gathered multitudes, I felt a pang of compassion,
for their fate was sealed and they knew nothing of it, fixed as they were on
the image hung before them.
Quickly, I mumbled the words of the Dimensional Shift spell, and felt myself
begin to dematerialise, even as the crystal fell to the stone at my feet. In
the last moments of my existence on the Isles, the faces of the unfortunate
few who saw my going grew taught with horror and confusion. Even as the last
of my being was fading, I felt the awesome heat, so hot as to feel ice-cold,
and the mist that grew with the vapourisation of every living thing and
construction that stood in the region of Grinola.
When I woke, the scars that the spell had wrought on my mortal form were
dressed in the softest of linen, and I found that I was in this Gnomish city
of Jungolimbols, in the land of Shadowmoth. City hardly describes the motley
collection of fine works retrieved from the disaster when the neighbouring
volcano was formed, as they intermingle with the wooden huts framed from the
very jungle itself.
There is an irony in the arrival of one failed magician, to a land of
ingenuity laid low by the failed experiments of a meddling gnome.
I can see opportunity lying before me. my ambition a bauble to entice and
inspire the Gnomes. Once again I shall research the magics, and maybe this
time I shall harness the elements and flora instead of the darkness... we
shall see."
The way my master leapt from the chair caught me by surprise, and he strode
from the room as though rejunvenated.. maybe my medicines are more effective
than I thought, but still. the tale I have written down suggests a glorious
future for my fellow Gnomes, if we live to see it. I wonder what I shall
write in the next chapter?
</PRE><P>
Contact Ordo Equester at <a href="mailto:lias@madasafish.com">lias@madasafish.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player34"></A><H3> PLAYER 34 - <A HREF="#Table">Greyhawk</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</PRE>
<TABLE BORDER=5>
<TR>
<TD ALIGN=LEFT>
<DIR>
<BR><BR>
<H1>
<P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#80FF00">
<CENTER>
<STRONG>SAND HAVENS</STRONG>
<IMG SRC="http://www.microsoft.com/gallery/images/snow.GIF" WIDTH=42
HEIGHT=42>
</CENTER>
</FONT>
</P>
</H1>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H2>The Story begins....</H2>
<DIR>
<P>
The two figures clambered up the scree covered slope, rocks clattering away under the feet in a steady trickle. Ahead, the cavern roof became apparent in the gloom of the underworld, converging somewhere up ahead with the incline they traversed.
</P><P>
One of the two was old, leaning heavily on his staff, wheezing somewhat. His hair was white and straggly, framing a grim and deeply lined visage somehow still appearing tanned despite the sunless depths in which he lived. A hooked nose surmounted disapproving lips, under eyes of steel grey. A fierce intensity glowed within those eyes, giving some clue as to the killer he had once been, and quite possibly still was. </P><P>
The younger strode on, occasionally looking back impatiently. In his early to mid thirties, he was hitting middle age by the standards of the sandpeople, still fit, but running slightly to fat. His brown hair was as yet untroubled by grey; his blue eyes squinted vacantly over a nose broken at some stage by an errant blow. His face was the alabaster pale of one who has lived his life in the dark.
</P><P>
Out of the darkness ahead, it was apparent that the journey was coming to an end. The younger halted at a huge wall of boulders that blocked all further progress. The cavern roof was no more than 20 feet above.
</P><P>
"So....ermm...Patrias. Where exactly IS this overworld thingy then?" enquired the younger without looking back.
</P><P>
"What?" wheezed the elder in return, still 50 feet behind and slowing noticeably.
</P><P>
"The over...THE OVERWORLD. Do hurry up, won't you?"
</P><P>
Patrias arrived, breath rasping harshly in his aged lungs. Leaning on his staff, he composed himself shortly. "Lord...hah...ahem...Lord Greyhawk. Its...its there." he said, pointing briefly at the rock face before dropping his arm with exhaustion. "Not as young as I used to be".
</P><P>
"Not as sound of mind either, apparently" said Greyhawk dubiously. "That's just a pile of rock. See 'em everyday. Lots of them in fact. Never heard one of them referred to as 'an overworld'".
</P><P>
"No, no, no. THROUGH there, my Lord Greyhawk. Thats where the first tunnels were made to Sand Havens from the deserts of our ancestors." He pursed his lips, calculating. "A hundred men....a few months work...and then.....THEN!....we will see the SUN!!!!!
</P><P>
"Uh-huh" said Greyhawk, after a short silence. "The son? Whose son?"
</P><P>
"Not a son.....THE sun! I'm sure we taught you about this when you were a boy!" Patrias glared at Greyhawk grumpily.
</P><P>
"I'm quite sure I've memorised geneology properly", said Greyhawk stiffly. "Not my fault if you left someone out."
</P><P>
"No, no, NO! THE SUN! Big glowing thing, hangs in the sky, gives off light and heat. Well...sometimes heat...sometimes it does get a bit cold and all.....and it goes away half the time.....ermmmm" Patrias looked up, hoping to spot a stray glimmer of comprehension. </P><P>
"Sky?" Greyhawk picked his nose, beginning to get bored. "So Patrias....why did we come down here in the first place if the overworld was a place we liked being in?"
</P><P>
Patrias paused to cough slightly, straightened, remembering. "Had to come down here in the Great War. Not safe. Not at all. We'd have all been very very dead."
</P><P>
"I see" said Greyhawk, looking slightly alarmed. "And....errrr.....you want us to go back....up there? Do you think it will be safe yet?" An involuntary shudder caused his belly to ripple slightly in sympathy.
</P><P>
"Oh well, I'm sure its quite all right now", said Patrias, slightly peeved. "The odd dragon or deamon...nothing you can't take care of in a few minutes of spare time. You're our King after all....sorcery and all that, etc etc.."
</P><P>
"Ah yes, of course!" Greyhawk brightened slightly. "And I'll have my army too! All fifty of them! I'll be perfectly safe. Er....what are dragons, then? And them deamon thingies?"
</P><P>
"Sixty foot fire breathing flying lizards, resistant to magic. And ten foot tall flying creatures from the pits of hell sent to drag your soul to enternal damnation. But don't let it worry you."
</P><P>
Greyhawk digested this slowly. "Would it upset you....a lot, I mean....if I conceded that I had tried to not let this worry me, but failed?"
</P><P>
Patrias gave him a faintly contemptuous look. "Not really. I know you pretty well by now. Puffed up with vanity and little else besides a steadily growing collection of fat cells. An eye for the ladies and good food, thats about your sum total." He turned his head to the side and spat. "Knew you wouldn't have the guts."
</P><P>
"I...I do too!" Greyhawk kicked a rock to show he was up to the task. "How dare you! I'll show the lot of you that I'm just as good a thief, murderer and land grabber as the next man....er...being!". He abruptly sat down and cradled his foot. "Owwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!".
</P><P>
"They're not 'thieves, murderers and land grabbers', they're 'heroes and conquerors'. All right?" Patrias bent down to Greyhawk's level, grabbed both lapels, and pulled his face to within an inch of Greyhawk's. "Now listen to me, you no-good chickenshit yellowbellied vainglorious womanising fat waste of space. We've been stuck down this god-forsaken hole for fifty years and we are SICK of it!! And whether you like it or not, YOU are going to lead us out. YOU, Greyhawk, because our late king had the sheer misfortune to whelp a useless byproduct such as yourself on his only love. And if you don't......IF YOU DON'T.....then we WILL find someone who can."
</P><P>
"And that would just be too bad for you, now, wouldn't it?". Patrias smiled a smile that wasn't. At all.
</P><P>
Greyhawk turned a whiter shade of pale; leaned back from the sheer force of malice emanating from Patrias' every pore. "You sound like you'd actually prefer that!" he said in disbelief. "The law says you CAN't replace me! Not while I'm still.....ermm.....ah."
</P><P>
Short yet meaningful silence.
</P><P>
"You wouldn't!"
</P><P>
"DON'T TEMPT ME!!" Patrias roared, spraying Greyhawk's face with flecks of spittle. "FIFTY YEARS!!! FIFTY YEARS since I felt the sand underneath my feet and the wind in my hair! The sound of battle! The screams of a worthy foe dying on my blade under the hot sun. And what have I done for the last thirty of them? Tried to teach everything I know to you! You will NOT let me down!!"
</P><P>
Greyhawk knew when he was trapped.
</P><P>
"Um. Ok." he said unhappily.
</P><P>
Watch out world. Greyhawk is coming.
</P
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P><CENTER><HR></CENTER></P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H3>The First Wave</H3>
<DIR>
<P>
Greyhawk stared vaguely through his telescope at the surrounding countryside. "I can't see a thing" he complained. "How do we know what's out there?"
</P><P>
"Perhaps thats because its dark. There's a lot of dark in the underworld. Thats commonly why its called the underworld. Because its dark, you see." said Patrias, laying on the sarcasm with a trowel. "Why don't you go and have a look?"
</P><P>
"Have a look? Out there? With all this....ermmm....paperwork to do?" Greyhawk vacillated wildly. "Quite out of the question. Best we send out some of the trackers and people...." he waved vaguely. "We must have someone that is used to poking around".
</P><P>
"Best to let someone else discover whatever nastiness is out there before it discovers me" thought Greyhawk. He chuckled heartily at his own cleverness. Patrias stopped working long enough to give this apparently impromptu laughter an odd look.
</P><P>
"You're not going mad on me are you?"
</P><P>
"Oh no" said Greyhawk. "I intend to remain quite sane, thanks. Whole in body AND mind."
</P><P>
Waves of Scouts were immediately sent off to the neighboring lands, in search of fertile soil for growing the crops needed to sustain a bustling economy and growing army. In addition, prospectors were ordered to explore the surrounding caverns and to begin mining the precious minerals
and gems that lie within the deeps of the underworld. </P><P>
Our scouting parties are lead by Blackthorn and his servants. Patrias felt him dangerous and best well away from the city. For once, he and Greyhawk concurred, although when they talked it wasn't Patrias with the squeaky voice. Foremost in Blackthorn's tasks is the re-opening of the paths to the Overworld. Patrias will see the sun again before he dies.
</P>
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P><CENTER><HR></CENTER></P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H3>Diplomacy</H3>
<DIR>
<P>
"Ok" said Greyhawk. "Someone must like us up there. And surely they have big armies with lots of magicians and suchlike." He paused, waiting for confirmation. "Right?"
</P><P>
Patrias snorted derisively. "Maybe. More likely, if they even remember us, and assuming they even still exist, their armies are no better than ours. If there's killing to be done, we'll be doing it largely by ourselves. Still....." He rubbed his chin reflectively. "Back in the Great War we had a number of stalwart allies. Good people to know; most of them at any rate. Some proved unreliable, but others proved as courageous as any sandperson - present company excepted, of course! - until we were finally overwhelmed and had to flee to the caverns."
</P><P>
Greyhawk gave him a reproachful look. "I'm only thinking of the realm, Patrias. Not much point in a fight that leaves both sides bled dry of their menfolk is there? Diplomacy should be used to gather friends to crush the foe in relative....ermm.....'safety'. Not that I'm afraid or anything. Just prudent." He carefully looked anywhere but at Patrias.
</P><P>
Patrias was, however, lost in thought. "Back when your father was King, our people never betrayed an ally. Our word, once given, was an unbreakable bond. That's proper alliances, see - not just some border watching arrangement between neutrals. There's always the potential for misunderstandings, but you can only do your best. We used to help them with diplomatic information, mapping, trade. We donated them resources even if they had nothing to give in return, on occasion. Cast spells for them. Protected them from our allies and others by finding alterbative targets for them. And when we found it was we who needed help....well, then you found out who your true friends were. But never any lack of honour from our people, oh no. Without honour, what is a man?"
</P><P>
"That was a very good speech" said Greyhawk, enthusiastically. "Made me go all warm and fuzzy-like. I didn't realise we were such nice people! If they don't all want to ally with us after that, I'm not sure what could be wrong with them."
</P><P>
"Well they might not think much of our ruler...."
</P><P>
"Oh, must you always go on? Can't you ever give me any credit?"
</P><P>
"Well..........in a word......" Patrias considered it carefully. "No."
</P><P>
The hope that our enemies may have forgotten us over 50 years is most probably a vain one. We seek steadfast and true allies to stand with us on the battlefield. A sandperson's word is iron, once given. You can be sure that Patrias will see to that.
</P><P>
There are many nations in the word and our enemies will be numerous. Fortunately they are weak as well and will fall like chaff before the wind of the armies of our combined alliances. Let their armies march forth unto their doom. Let our brave and stalwart people pick up the banner of war and charge our cowardly foes on the field of battle. They will surely scatter like the vermin they are, unable to stand against our united power [Sand Havens Propoganda TM].
</P><P>
The realm's chief advisor, Patrias, had this to say: "Even now I can scry the foolish peasants that our enemies are assembling into a cruel mimicry of a real army. I see the fear on their faces, the trembling in their knees. I see their wives crying at home. They all know what I know. That their future is death, despair, misery. Through the cold dark night, I can hear them futilely begging their leaders to save them from this unalterable conclusion."
</P><P>
Patrias is capable of scaring his own mother.
</P>
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P><CENTER><HR></CENTER></P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H4>Magick</H4>
<DIR>
<P>
"Patrias", said Greyhawk thoughtfully, "I hold fast to the sandperson code of fair and honourable combat. Bearing that in mind, could you please teach me a spell that would automatically kill anything in the entire world the instant it even thinks about doing something that might hurt me?"
</P><P>
"Why" replied Patrias "would I teach you something that would have me dead in five minutes?"
</P><P>
Greyhawk had to concede this was a good point.
</P><P>
Trying to find information elsewhere, Greyhawk discovered that everything which had been developed in the overworld had been forgotten, and must be begun anew. Seeing this, Greyhawk panicked in a most unedifying fashion, calling piteously for the construction of vast libraries and gathering places for those inclined to the mystical arts, so that they might save his candy ass when the time came.
</P>
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P><CENTER><HR></CENTER></P>
<FONT FACE="Arial" COLOR="#F0fF80">
<H4>Armies</H4>
<DIR>
<P>
"Obviously", decided Greyhawk, "the best way to preserve one's health is to hire a large number of leaders that interpose themselves between your skin and anything remotely dangerous".
</P><P>
On Lord Greyhawk's command, our militia lieutenants are off recruiting other Heroes to our banner. We're currently accepting resumes for spellcasting-capable heroes. Please apply at the capitol. Enemy Rogues, Spies, Thieves and Saboteurs are not allowed to apply, and will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law should they be detected in the capitol. The law happens to be whatever Patrias says it is at the time, and he has been known to watch some poor fool thief slowly drip his life away over a month's time, howling in despair, pain and misery the entire time, until at last his lungs burst and his cries turn silent.
</P><P>
Don't cross Patrias, I beg you. For your own sake. Join the Sand Havens crusade, and see the world.
</P>
</DIR>
</FONT>
<P ALIGN="RIGHT">
<A HREF="mailto:ivanmc@xtra.co.nz?subject=WoW, attn:
Greyhawk">
<I>
<H6>
Contact Greyhawk
</H6>
</I>
</A>
</P>
</DIR>
</TD>
</TR>
</TABLE>
<PRE>
</PRE><P>
Contact Greyhawk at <a href="mailto:ivanmc@xtra.co.nz">ivanmc@xtra.co.nz</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player35"></A><H3> PLAYER 35 - <A HREF="#Table">The Great Bermuda</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
</PRE><P>
Contact The Great Bermuda at <a href="mailto:sim@i-wight.demon.co.uk">sim@i-wight.demon.co.uk</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player36"></A><H3> PLAYER 36 - <A HREF="#Table">Arid</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
</PRE><P>
Contact Arid at <a href="mailto:vallieres2164@home.com">vallieres2164@home.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player37"></A><H3> PLAYER 37 - <A HREF="#Table">Mandorallen</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
<HTML>
</pre>
<CENTER><TABLE BORDER COLS=1 WIDTH="760"
BGCOLOR="#000000" >
<TR>
<TD><FONT COLOR="#CCFFFF">Once upon a time the
Halflings lived and prospered
on Shadowmoth. There were many tribes
living in peace and harmony
with both animals and nature. They were said to be
friends to all other
races living on Shadowmoth and were therefore not
prepaired when the Great War came over the world.
Never
having had evil or agressive
thoughts they were in the beginning taken totally by
surprise, when they
wanted to greet the envoy of enemies on their nice
blooming grasslands but
instead were slaughtoured. Most of the
tribes realised their
mistake much too late seeing with their last breath
their children beeing
killed, their wifes beeing raped and their property
beeing burned. Only
one tribe managed to survive but had changed upon
these dire things they
had to go through. Though they had grown strong they
are now much more
realistic with the other people in the world. Now they
choose their friends
with care, always keeping in mind how evil people can
be. But on the other
hand those who show theirselfs as beeing true and good
friends to them
they will defend by their own lives. </FONT> <FONT
COLOR="#CCFFFF"></FONT>
<P><FONT COLOR="#CCFFFF">Many years have passed since
the end of the Great War
and many things have changed upon Shadowmoth, even the
halflings. Though they
have not forgotten the peril they had to go through
because of the evil
wizards they have not jet chosen their attitude
towards druidic or evil.
They only know they will become strong again upon
Shadowmoth. There is a
new strong leader who will guide the Halflings back to
were they belong:
To be the keeper of harmony and peace under their
strong hands ruling the
world wisely. </FONT><FONT COLOR="#CCFFFF"></FONT>
<P><FONT COLOR="#CCFFFF">I, </FONT><B><FONT
COLOR="#33CCFF">Mandorallen</FONT></B><FONT
COLOR="#CCFFFF">,
leader of the Halflings, offer my true friendship to
all, but be aware:
those who show treachery to me or my allies will curse
the day they did.
I will not live on without taking deadly revenge. But
keep in mind, we
are no agressive people we just have learned out of
history and will not
let history been repeated. So we hope we can live in
peace with our neighbours
profiting from each other and throwing back the troops
of our enemies. </FONT>
<P><FONT COLOR="#CCFFFF"><B><I>To your
honor</I></B>, </FONT>
<BR><B><FONT COLOR="#33CCFF"><FONT
SIZE=+1>Mandorallen</FONT></FONT></B></TD>
</TR>
</TABLE></CENTER>
<pre>
</PRE><P>
Contact Mandorallen at <a href="mailto:martin_both@yahoo.com">martin_both@yahoo.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player38"></A><H3> PLAYER 38 - <A HREF="#Table">SIRIKUL II</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
</PRE>
<TABLE bgcolor="#0000a0" border cellpadding=10 cols=1 width = 90%>
<CAPTION><B><FONT SIZE=+3><FONT COLOR=FE0000>THE TUNNELS OF
HOPE</FONT></FONT></B></CAPTION>
<TR><TD ALIGN=LEFT><P><I><FONT COLOR="#00a400">VISIONS OF THE PAST/PRESENT
</FONT></FONT></I></P>
<P><LEFT><FONT COLOR="#aa6699">It has been a long time since I, <A
HREF="mailto:valkrob@mozart.inet.co.th">Sirikul</A><I><B><FONT
COLOR="#e50000">, last brother ruler of the Gua Clan of the Wihandaeng
People of the Fourth Age of the Wheel</FONT></B></I> found myself awake in
the tunnels of the underworld. Why have I been awakened from my
contemplation of evolving to a higher being?</P>
<P>He that has awakened me felt my wrath, albeit misdirected and now lies
in our deepest catacombs. But it has become evident that much has changed
since my meditation began many years. The strong and vast empire of
Vopehall has been reduced to it's bare limits of the outer city by the
marauding forces of old enemies and new beings which my advisors fear too
much. The city has been pillaged of most buildings and all treasures taken
away from our Hall of Stata and my people cower in fear of return of these
evil forces. Only the well concealed antichamber of my inner sanctum saved
me from perhaps not awakening in these lands again.</P>
<P>So it is now I vow to once again restore the city of Vopehall to the
great empire it once was, both feared and respected thoughout the lands of
the Shadowmoth. All those that were responsible for pillaging my empire
shall be brought before me on their knees to swear alliegence and be bound
to my servitude forever.</P>
<P>And yet there are tales of other people's, my former allies, who also
suffered too in these times. I pass my offering of peace and alliances to
these people's so that we may combine to bring about peace and prosperity
in thses lands again. I have long memories of the deeds of others so they
too shall not go unpunished.</P></FONT></B></LEFT>
</TD></TR>
<TR><TD ALIGN=LEFT><P><I><FONT COLOR="#00FFFF">The Prophecies</FONT></I></P>
<P><I><FONT COLOR="#00a400"><FONT SIZE=+1>Many
times</A></FONT></FONT></I><FONT COLOR="#aa6699"> has it been told of the
years of peace in the Age of Legends, when the Great and Just <I><B><FONT
COLOR="#e50000">Tukk (the "Great One")</FONT></B></I> ruled all the lands
of all the worlds known. His realm reached into the land of dreams and
shadows from where he was able to hold the future in his hands too. It was
from here that he sowed the seeds of the lands of Shadowmoth forever in the
bloodlines of Gua Clan, his chosen race for the worlds of tunnels.</P>
<P>It has been told that in the heart of the lands to the east has been
placed a great obelisk of solid gold that has inscribed on it in a language
now long forgotten of the true path. He who is able to seek out and
decifer this text shall rule over this world for his lifetime and that of
his living heirs. But this is not a simple task for a would be pretender
to the crown as this is the only place that this language is written and
its meaning will only be revealed to those whose blood is true.</P>
<P>And so it shall pass that in the third cycle of the moon the mighty
shall ascend upon the world to hold all to account for their deeds of the
past, and unleash the evilbreed of Gua and their cousins onto those whom
have not held onto the true path of the spirit of the last world.</P>
<P>All the who wish not to fall prey to the true path shall prepare to meet
thy master and be willing to submit to his decrees.</P>
<P>So it is told.</P>
<P>So it shall be.</P>
<P><I>.
(Author Unknown) </I></P>
</TD></TR>
<TR><TD ALIGN=LEFT><P><I><FONT COLOR="#00FFFF">The Darkness of Below
</FONT></FONT></I></P>
<P><I><FONT COLOR="#00a400"><FONT SIZE=+1><A NAME="HA">A New Darkness
</A></FONT></FONT></I> <FONT COLOR="#aa6699"> has began to sweep the
tunnels and paths of Shadowmoth as the echos are heard from afar for all
beings of like mind to join the ranks of their true master's minions. The
urge within me seems undeniable although I know it to be wrong and against
the elements.</P>
<P>But how am I to fight what has been ordained, to restore justice to the
world which was taken by the evil? My path seems to be moulded in rock
already so there is little hope for pity to those who may come to me in the
age to come. A sad lose of life I'm afraid. A pity.</P>
<P>Already the world has opened up around me, providing the resources to to
meet my needs and my old brothers have arrived on my doorsteps. They have
been welcomed with the open arms that they deserve but there seems to be
silence in part as well as echoes through the tunnels of new paths opened.
The desires of old now pervade our small settlement and seem to encourage
the formation of minor cults to meet their needs. And yet I must admire
their stoic resolve in their belief of the prophecies.</P>
<P>All that is sure is that those who have been chosen by the "Great One"
to join me on my path to doom or glory have accepted their paths with true
resolve that shall be equalled by my own.</P>
<P>And yet I must feel for those mortals whom dwell near our realms as they
are sure to fall under the true spell all to soon for their leaders. May
those who fall be returned to live their next life under the true path.</P>
</TABLE>
<PRE>
</PRE><P>
Contact SIRIKUL II at <a href="mailto:lias@lineone.net">lias@lineone.net</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player39"></A><H3> PLAYER 39 - <A HREF="#Table">Abdul Alhazred</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
</PRE><P>
Contact Abdul Alhazred at <a href="mailto:jeffrey@panehal.com">jeffrey@panehal.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player40"></A><H3> PLAYER 40 - <A HREF="#Table">Tigleth_Pilisar</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
</PRE><P>
Contact Tigleth_Pilisar at <a href="mailto:tigleth.pilisar@shaw.ca">tigleth.pilisar@shaw.ca</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player41"></A><H3> PLAYER 41 - <A HREF="#Table">Fluffy</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
The dawn of a new era came with the sunrise in the Halfling nation. The
horns sounded for the people to gather at the tower of the wizard
fluffy. Idle gossip was plentiful in the crowd as the wizard stepped
forth.....
"My people, the time has come for us to reach out in the world and
fulfill our destiny. We can no longer stay confined to our small
lands. We must move forward. I have called our army together and have
ordered they move out in the morning.
Our enemies shall learn why they fear the night. They shall all drown
in lakes of blood. Our armies of god shall kill every living thing on
this world and we shall have the other wizards fleeing for
their very lives.
I shall lead you on our dark path to crucify leaders before their own
people. We shall either be victorious or we shall die trying. I have
initiated a policy to insure that our nation will not fall aside in
history like so many other nations that have vanished and their people
forgotten in history.
With our allies we shall make the world tremble. I shall bring you
untold riches from new lands and make our people once again the feared
fighters our ancestors were of old."
The people cheered as the wizard walked among the crowd and was
with his people. For the wizard realized that oly through his people
can any leader truely achieve success.
If god be for us then who could stand against us...
</PRE><P>
Contact Fluffy at <a href="mailto:promimity@va.prestige.net">promimity@va.prestige.net</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player42"></A><H3> PLAYER 42 - <A HREF="#Table">Lecostarius</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
<!doctype html public "-//w3c//dtd html 4.0 transitional//en">
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charset=iso-8859-1">
<meta name="Author" content="Anja Heller-Kemp">
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<h5>
Day 1</h5>
Waking up... always the same, tingling sensation, the dizziness, slight
headache, and increased sensitivity against light. I keep my eyes
closed.
This is a huge world and I am supposed to lead some small local tribe to
glory and freedom. I have done so in the past, mind me, I am not a
newbie
to this. I know it is the best to relax and wait until the body gets
used
to the new environment.
<p>I hear a licking noise, and then a huge wet something hits me into
the
face. It smells. No, to be honest, it is stinking. Of cow. I open my
eyes,
only to see that a big cow is licking my face. It is not that I really
hate cows. They are useful animals. Without cows, there would be no
cheesecake
which is one of my favourites. But I prefer to see them from far away,
even better, not see them at all. Somebody bring me the cheesecake and
I do not need the cow.
<p>I roll away, try to hide from the intrusive cow.
<p><i><font color="#FF0000">This is not a cow. It is a
monster!</font></i><i><font color="#FF0000"></font></i>
<p><i><font color="#FF0000">It has the face of a cow all right, but the
rest of it is definitely human. Female in this case. Though it is hard
to imagine any female human being should be so muscular. This monster
has
arms that are stronger than my legs. She carries a long stick with a
dark
tip. No doubt it is blood that colored the tip of this stick. She looks
as if she eats humans for breakfast. With that arms, she can hurl the
stick
two miles and still kill an elephant on impact.</font></i>
<p>I am doomed. The monster is armed, and I am not. It is <i>strong</i>,
and I am not in perfect physical condition. It knows the terrain. It has
all advantages at its side. My life passes in front of my imagination,
at a speed of a decade per second.
<p>Hold on. It is a <i>cow</i>. A <i>cow-type </i>monster. Cows are not
especially smart. I can outwit her. How? Too late! She leaps towards me,
I see the big muscles contract as she prepares her deadly blow. I
faint. Over. Nobody of my new tribe around to help me. I will die from
the hands of a <i>cow</i>. Not a very ... right way to die, not noble.
I'd prefer to die in battle, with dozens of slain enemies to my feet, me
bleeding of dozens of wounds... well... once you are dead, the
inscription
to the tombstone does not matter very much any more.
<br>
<h5>
Day 2</h5>
I am still alive!
<br>When I woke up, the first thing I saw was two cow monsters. The new
one is a male. He looks much much worse than the female and I wonder why
I was terrified of the female since she looks human, beautiful, tender
and gentle by comparison. He is not armed but no doubt he can outrun me
and tear me in pieces if I tried to flee. He has also particularly cruel
looking horns. I dare not to move.
<br>
<h5>
Day 3</h5>
The cow monsters have given me water, and hay. They want to keep me in
good condition to have fun in their cruel hunting game where I am the
victim,
I am sure. In order not to offend them I munch some of the hay.
<br>There are more of them, maybe a few hundred. And they moo-moo to
each
other. It looks like they speak. If they are intelligent enough to
speak,
I can learn their language, I am good at languages. I can spy their plot
and plan my escape. The future looks brighter.
<br>
<h5>
Day 4</h5>
They have brought me into a big prison. There are no doors, only open
passages,
but it is a maze of passages and I cannot find the way out. The cows
come
and go as they like. They must have some built in navigation system,
probably
they go after my smell. I pick up their language very rapidly. I am so
hungry. The hay is doing my stomach no good at all but I continue eating
it so that the cow monsters are not offended.
<br>
<h5>
Day 5</h5>
Today, I realized the big misunderstanding. The cow monsters are the
tribe
that I am supposed to lead! I noticed they talk about 'big master cow'
coming from the sky and then they looked at me. They think I will lead
them and protect them against somebody called Theseus. I do not know
this
Theseus but if they are afraid of this guy, so am I!
<br>This is some sort of temple, not a prison. I have no idea why there
are hardly any rooms but only passageways.
<h5>
</h5>
<h5>
Day 6</h5>
I am the official ruler of the 'minotaur', which means 'cow monster' in
cow-monsterish. This morning I was brought the royal insignia: a red
long
string, and a all-nude human girl, maybe 17 years of age. The cow
monsters
explained me she is a virgin. I have no idea what I shall do, maybe I
have
to tie her up with the red string, or she is my personal servant. Or she
is regarded as sort of crippled by nature, and I as the master magician
have to cast a spell to give her a cow head and more muscles. Even if I
could I would not, since I am so glad to have a human being around. A
pity
she seems to be too scared to speak. Why is that?
<br>
<h5>
Day 7</h5>
I learn more and more about the minotaurs. The maze is their town hall.
They live off hay and grass mainly, but they sometimes hunt for meat.
They
do not need horses for agriculture - they are incredibly strong. I think
they make up good soldiers. Maybe after all this is not so bad at all...
with an army of cow monsters behind me, who dares to stop me? Luckily,
Theseus has not yet shown up.
<p>If I only knew why they brought me that virgin?
<br>
</body>
</html>
</PRE><P>
Contact Lecostarius at <a href="mailto:tkemp@t-online.de">tkemp@t-online.de</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player43"></A><H3> PLAYER 43 - <A HREF="#Table">Marcil van Dramo</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
<HTML>
<table border=2>
<TR><TD>
<BACKGROUND="http://members.theglobe.com/Vope_Hall/flamme.gif" TEXT="Red"
LINK="Yellow" VLINK="Teal" ALINK="Purple">
<BR><BR>
<CENTER><B><I><FONT COLOR="red" SIZE=+7><BLINK>HUL
<BLINK></FONT></I></B></CENTER>
<BR><BR><BR><BR>
<CENTER><IMG SRC="http://members.theglobe.com/Vope_Hall/pbsnake3.gif"
WIDTH=100%></CENTER><BR>
Hail honorable wizards....
<BR><BR>
The name be Dramo, and I be the new ruler of the Ogres of Hul. Down in our
'ere underworld caverns, ogres are a bit different than they once
used to be. We trudge through our tunnels, most times filling them entirely
with our bulk, wandering
without destination wherever our feet carry us with no real purpose at all
but to enjoy life in general -- usually; But now our purposes have
changed, and the banshees have begun screaming anew.
<BR><BR>
No longer do we take pleasure in the beauty of nature as we once did, nor
thrive for the precious warmth of sunlight on our rough hides -- We have
become
one with the darkness and terrain of endless rocks and more rocks, angry
volcanoes, and the endless caverns of nothingness that is our home - and
have thus come to accept this
new life as our own. Inevitiably such living conditions have scarred us in
ways we might little notice any more, but never let it be known that the
Ogres of Hul show disdain for any of the races who so
selfishly drove us here. We have found new purpose amongst our tools and
our toil,
mining stone, gems, and mithril, harvesting grain, and purposefully seeking
out victims for our newfound bloodlust .... without any knowledge of day or
night ~
Here our struggle to be stronger, brighter, and more productive than our
self-righteous dwelling neighbors is non-stop. We shall not cease in our
efforts to be anything less than perfectionists, and to bury all who
attempt to stand before us.
<BR><BR>
<CENTER><IMG SRC="http://members.theglobe.com/Vope_Hall/lair.jpeg"
WIDTH=50%></CENTER>
<BR><BR>
Unlike others of our people who have grown restless and contemptuous of
their once friends among the other races, doomed to survive with what little
we have been given, we of Hul strive to work once again towards
unity however. We believe that in alliance, ignorance and hatred, which has
separated all our peoples from that race which the Gods all intended us to
be, shall be overcome and forgotten. We can not acheive these goals alone,
and do not proclaim to be able to do so. This is not so easily achieved
after you just ripped off the diplomats arm and began chomping greedily on
it, but we understand our ways will not always be understood among others.
The efforts of diplomacy with all
the races and peoples of the Isles has been a high priority for our nation
of
late, and that is why we have a new ruler to lead us to prosperity once
again. His name is Dramo - and he is Thane over the Underworld. I do be
him. One might ask how a dwarven metalsmith came to be ruler of a once
surface
dwelling race of ogres - I myself am not so sure
I must admit. However my efforts have been successful before and the
knowledge of how to rule a nation is within my abilities, not to mention
some suppressed rage that seems to have impressed the populous immensely.
The ogres
take great pride in having a spokesman that is not of their own, and will
not be doomed to failure, or killed anew in battle by the first arrow as
has been the case of late it would seem. I make no promises for them, and
they expect nothing - yet somehow we both seem to know more than we let on,
and I have full confidence that we shall not only survive, but prosper and
conquer all who would oppose.
<BR><BR>
May all the rulers of Shadowmoth know that wisdom and justice abounds when
they
do speak my name - Peace, generosity, and mercy are as overflowing, but
also quick to come by is the demonic anger of a Dwarf in an stuffy cavern
with a leech up his....well you get the point.
<BR><BR><BR><BR>
<CENTER><IMG SRC="http://members.theglobe.com/Vope_Hall/dramo.gif"></CENTER>
<BR><BR>
You can contact me, <BLINK><A HREF="mailto:action111@hotmail.com">Thane
Dramo</A></BLINK> through any of my numerous diplomats, who even now roam
the lands of Shadowmoth in search of worthy allies, beneficial partners in
trade, and possibly, future subjects of the merciless wrath of Dramo.
<BR><BR>
<CENTER><IMG SRC="http://members.theglobe.com/Vope_Hall/pbsnake3.gif"
WIDTH=100%></CENTER>
<BR><BR><BR><BR>
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END
_________________________________________________________________
Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com/intl.asp
</PRE><P>
Contact Marcil van Dramo at <a href="mailto:jones.hb5@mail.utexas.edu">jones.hb5@mail.utexas.edu</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player44"></A><H3> PLAYER 44 - <A HREF="#Table">Fizzle</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
</PRE><P>
Contact Fizzle at <a href="mailto:dave.romanzin@entero.com">dave.romanzin@entero.com</a>
<HR>
<LI><A NAME="Player45"></A><H3> PLAYER 45 - <A HREF="#Table">Estarion</A><BR></H3>
<PRE>
<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN"
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<TITLE>Sun Tzu on The Art of War (Part 1)</TITLE>
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<HR>
<CENTER><H1>The Sun-tzu <I>Art of War, Part 1</I></H1></center>
<HR>
<blockquote>
<HR>
<H2>01. LAYING PLANS</H2>
<HR>
<PRE style="font-size: 8pt; color: white">
[Ts`ao Kung, in defining the meaning of the Chinese for the
title of this chapter, says it refers to the deliberations in the
temple selected by the general for his temporary use, or as we
should say, in his tent. See. ss. 26.]
1. Sun Tzu said: The art of war is of vital importance to
the State.
2. It is a matter of life and death, a road either to
safety or to ruin. Hence it is a subject of inquiry which can on
no account be neglected.
3. The art of war, then, is governed by five constant
factors, to be taken into account in one's deliberations, when
seeking to determine the conditions obtaining in the field.
4. These are: (1) The Moral Law; (2) Heaven; (3) Earth;
(4) The Commander; (5) Method and discipline.
[It appears from what follows that Sun Tzu means by "Moral
Law" a principle of harmony, not unlike the Tao of Lao Tzu in its
moral aspect. One might be tempted to render it by "morale,"
were it not considered as an attribute of the ruler in ss. 13.]
5, 6. The MORAL LAW causes the people to be in complete
accord with their ruler, so that they will follow him regardless
of their lives, undismayed by any danger.
[Tu Yu quotes Wang Tzu as saying: "Without constant
practice, the officers will be nervous and undecided when
mustering for battle; without constant practice, the general will
be wavering and irresolute when the crisis is at hand."]
7. HEAVEN signifies night and day, cold and heat, times and
seasons.
[The commentators, I think, make an unnecessary mystery of
two words here. Meng Shih refers to "the hard and the soft,
waxing and waning" of Heaven. Wang Hsi, however, may be right in
saying that what is meant is "the general economy of Heaven,"
including the five elements, the four seasons, wind and clouds,
and other phenomena.]
8. EARTH comprises distances, great and small; danger and
security; open ground and narrow passes; the chances of life and
death.
9. The COMMANDER stands for the virtues of wisdom,
sincerely, benevolence, courage and strictness.
[The five cardinal virtues of the Chinese are (1) humanity
or benevolence; (2) uprightness of mind; (3) self-respect, self-
control, or "proper feeling;" (4) wisdom; (5) sincerity or good
faith. Here "wisdom" and "sincerity" are put before "humanity or
benevolence," and the two military virtues of "courage" and
"strictness" substituted for "uprightness of mind" and "self-
respect, self-control, or 'proper feeling.'"]
10. By METHOD AND DISCIPLINE are to be understood the
marshaling of the army in its proper subdivisions, the
graduations of rank among the officers, the maintenance of roads
by which supplies may reach the army, and the control of military
expenditure.
11. These five heads should be familiar to every general:
he who knows them will be victorious; he who knows them not will
fail.
12. Therefore, in your deliberations, when seeking to
determine the military conditions, let them be made the basis of
a comparison, in this wise: --
13. (1) Which of the two sovereigns is imbued with the
Moral law?
[I.e., "is in harmony with his subjects." Cf. ss. 5.]
(2) Which of the two generals has most ability?
(3) With whom lie the advantages derived from Heaven and
Earth?
[See ss. 7,8]
(4) On which side is discipline most rigorously enforced?
[Tu Mu alludes to the remarkable story of Ts`ao Ts`ao (A.D.
155-220), who was such a strict disciplinarian that once, in
accordance with his own severe regulations against injury to
standing crops, he condemned himself to death for having allowed
him horse to shy into a field of corn! However, in lieu of
losing his head, he was persuaded to satisfy his sense of justice
by cutting off his hair. Ts`ao Ts`ao's own comment on the
present passage is characteristically curt: "when you lay down a
law, see that it is not disobeyed; if it is disobeyed the
offender must be put to death."]
(5) Which army is stronger?
[Morally as well as physically. As Mei Yao-ch`en puts it,
freely rendered, "ESPIRIT DE CORPS and 'big battalions.'"]
(6) On which side are officers and men more highly trained?
[Tu Yu quotes Wang Tzu as saying: "Without constant
practice, the officers will be nervous and undecided when
mustering for battle; without constant practice, the general will
be wavering and irresolute when the crisis is at hand."]
(7) In which army is there the greater constancy both in
reward and punishment?
[On which side is there the most absolute certainty that
merit will be properly rewarded and misdeeds summarily punished?]
14. By means of these seven considerations I can forecast
victory or defeat.
15. The general that hearkens to my counsel and acts upon
it, will conquer: --let such a one be retained in command! The
general that hearkens not to my counsel nor acts upon it, will
suffer defeat: --let such a one be dismissed!
[The form of this paragraph reminds us that Sun Tzu's
treatise was composed expressly for the benefit of his patron Ho
Lu, king of the Wu State.]
16. While heading the profit of my counsel, avail yourself
also of any helpful circumstances over and beyond the ordinary
rules.
17. According as circumstances are favorable, one should
modify one's plans.
[Sun Tzu, as a practical soldier, will have none of the
"bookish theoric." He cautions us here not to pin our faith to
abstract principles; "for," as Chang Yu puts it, "while the main
laws of strategy can be stated clearly enough for the benefit of
all and sundry, you must be guided by the actions of the enemy in
attempting to secure a favorable position in actual warfare." On
the eve of the battle of Waterloo, Lord Uxbridge, commanding the
cavalry, went to the Duke of Wellington in order to learn what
his plans and calculations were for the morrow, because, as he
explained, he might suddenly find himself Commander-in-chief and
would be unable to frame new plans in a critical moment. The
Duke listened quietly and then said: "Who will attack the first
tomorrow -- I or Bonaparte?" "Bonaparte," replied Lord Uxbridge.
"Well," continued the Duke, "Bonaparte has not given me any idea
of his projects; and as my plans will depend upon his, how can
you expect me to tell you what mine are?" [1] ]
18. All warfare is based on deception.
[The truth of this pithy and profound saying will be
admitted by every soldier. Col. Henderson tells us that
Wellington, great in so many military qualities, was especially
distinguished by "the extraordinary skill with which he concealed
his movements and deceived both friend and foe."]
19. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when
using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we
must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we
must make him believe we are near.
20. Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder,
and crush him.
[All commentators, except Chang Yu, say, "When he is in
disorder, crush him." It is more natural to suppose that Sun Tzu
is still illustrating the uses of deception in war.]
21. If he is secure at all points, be prepared for him. If
he is in superior strength, evade him.
22. If your opponent is of choleric temper, seek to
irritate him. Pretend to be weak, that he may grow arrogant.
[Wang Tzu, quoted by Tu Yu, says that the good tactician
plays with his adversary as a cat plays with a mouse, first
feigning weakness and immobility, and then suddenly pouncing upon
him.]
23. If he is taking his ease, give him no rest.
[This is probably the meaning though Mei Yao-ch`en has the
note: "while we are taking our ease, wait for the enemy to tire
himself out." The YU LAN has "Lure him on and tire him out."]
If his forces are united, separate them.
[Less plausible is the interpretation favored by most of the
commentators: "If sovereign and subject are in accord, put
division between them."]
24. Attack him where he is unprepared, appear where you are
not expected.
25. These military devices, leading to victory, must not be
divulged beforehand.
26. Now the general who wins a battle makes many
calculations in his temple ere the battle is fought.
[Chang Yu tells us that in ancient times it was customary
for a temple to be set apart for the use of a general who was
about to take the field, in order that he might there elaborate
his plan of campaign.]
The general who loses a battle makes but few calculations
beforehand. Thus do many calculations lead to victory, and few
calculations to defeat: how much more no calculation at all! It
is by attention to this point that I can foresee who is likely to
win or lose.
[1] "Words on Wellington," by Sir. W. Fraser.
</PRE>
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PLAYER BLURBS.
My
name is Mordeth. I am the ruler of the "Hell Heights" Chaos
Minions. And I see it as my holy duty to bring some kind of
alignment into this chaotical behaviour. It always
has been my innermost feeling that only the strong will survive. In this respect I fully support the
chaotical way of evolution. However, I made the experience that
things will end in disasters whenever chaos is allowed to act
freely. Thus, some kind of higher goal or an agenda has to be
followed strictly. Only by this agenda it is possible to bring
the raw power of chaos into a direction that will not end in
disaster. 