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Hail Wizards of
Arragoth, Greetings from Prince Duncan Self appointed Warlock of the dark tower of Blackrock. |
I am a Dark Wizard
with great skill as a Swordsman. The use of horrable undead creatures of the
night is not against any standard that I hold dear. In fact, the
only thing I hold dear is the Honor of a Wizards Word. I have taken over this kingdom from the weak and sicklyLord DUNCAN, my father, to lead the Under Dwarves stuck in this miserable place, back to the hills we so dearly love. I am currently allied with no one. However, I truly understand that in alliance is power; alone we are nothing more than a tree standing against a titlewave. However, we Under Dwarves are open to any trade alliances that might be offered. |
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Let it be known to all of this land -- anyone trying to enter
our realm, without first getting permission, will have their bodies used for my
next set of Zombie Warriors.Anyone declaring war on the Blackrock
kingdom will be dealt with all the unholy might I can muster! Any wrongful or
mistrustful act, especially in political matters, will also be dealt with
accordingly. The under Dwarves are clearly one of the most fearsome races to
face on the field of battle. Our culture revolves around warriors and ensures
only the strongest survive. We are not above pillaging you or your kingdom to
accumulate an invaluable supply of resources.
In the words of my fellow dwarves "The time for peace has passed. The time for war is to come. In between we shall all find out who has the strength, cunning, willpower, and resources to name themselves competent rulers of the lands." These words ring with truth through the realm in which we live. So all that would go against us will die, and all that would ally themselves with us shall be safe, for as long as they remain true allies. |
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Contact Duncan at WILLIAMSKL@YAHOO.COM
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Contact Cerealkiller at dan_druff69@hotmail.com
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Contact Nameless Wizard at bigbadblaze@webtv.net
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Contact Nameless Wizard at majinfatbuu666@aol.com
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Contact Dravis at mewthirtyfour@yahoo.ca
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Contact Eliminatorr at eliminatorr27@hotmail.com
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Contact Morrigane the Dark Witch at krakken@eresmas.com
Hear ye all the word of the Mouth of Arragoth's Right Hand! My great lord Sauron, the Servant of Arragoth, master of death and life, great captain of the legions of Mordor, commands your attention, for your doom is at hand! Know you that millennia ago, my lord and master sat at the right hand of the mighty fire demon Arragoth. He was his eyes and ears, his sword and shield, and my master Sauron took as his symbol the lidless eye, blazing all about with his Lord Arragoth's fire! All fell to their knees before my Lord Sauron in those years! All trembled at his passing! None could hide from the eye that never closes! The nine rode the earth, scouring my masters enemies from existence! A legion of fire demons were at my masters call, mighty Kings bowed to him, and the tribute that passed beneath his gaze could not be counted by mortal hands! Surely he was the favorite of his Lord Arragoth above all other servants, and his Lord Arragoth's heart was filled with joy at my master's savage deeds. But time passed. The world cooled. Lord Arragoth waned, faded, grew weak. In this time of need my master Sauron rose once again to his Lord Arragoth's service. Rather than await his doom my master prevailed upon his Lord Arragoth to accept a lesser death - hibernation, deep within the bowels of the earth, warmed by the world's molten core, quiescent, perhaps for centuries, perhaps for millennia, awaiting the turning of the world, and the great warming foreseen by my Lord Sauron in his peerless wisdom. =20 By magics the like of which had never before or since been attempted was the deed accomplished, but at a great and terrible cost to my Lord Sauron. He was broken asunder by the powers he was forced to invoke that day, his soul all but flailed from his body by the impact of the great waves of raw magic unleashed by his Lord Arragoth's bondage.=20 Those few who witnessed the deed thought him blasted from existence, body, soul, all. But my master did not die. He hovered for an age, suspended delicately in that place between life and death in which only the dammed are permitted to go. He did not see the cataclysm that swept the world, caused by the great powers he had invoked to save his master. Neither did he see the frozen cold that swept the isles, the great sheets of walking ice which closed like a maw from both North and South. He was not aware of the turning of the glaciers, and of the slow return to civilization of the mortal races of the earth, emerging from their deep burrows and lodges to once more bask in the sun, and raise their rude towns and villages over the face of his Lord Arragoth's isles. And Sauron considered his formlessness as he lay upon the void. He remembered a time of glory, when he was mighty of its race and beloved of its master. Armies fought at his command; nations arose and fell once more into the dust of time. Men were born; grew to greatness, fell in glorious battle, coughed their lives away with disease, or withered with age; it mattered not. All returned to the earth; Sauron lived on. Sauron remembered life. Once true life, emotions and memories vivid with colour. Now...still life. Of a sort, anyway. After one hundred thousand years, fragments of thought, emotion, had penetrated the black shroud of his spirit. Voices....dervish voices.=20 Without a pause, without even concious thought, Sauron turned them to his will, searching, digging, excavating. So subtly they knew not that they did his bidding. So subtly and instinctive was the effort that it barely knew it controlled them at all. Rather - he shared with them its desires, and they knew them only as their own. In time, he was uncovered. Once evil beings had come who ignored its bidding. Armoured in bright mithril and swords of flame, they had slaughtered those who served and did its bidding. Then they had turned their attention to Sauron, = helpless in his weakness. Sauron remembered death. Of a sort, anyway. His form rippled in the agony of remembrance and all over his realm the dervishes clutched at their temples, feeling in some small measure the agony of what had been done to Sauron aeons ago. Once, he knew, he had been considered good. Wise, even. He had been a lord of magic, ruling a realm of vastness, but coveted by many. Too many. The invaders had come. He had.....died. Mortally wounded, he had run with the last of his blood-draining strength to a secret chamber. There, he had siezed the ring of legend, and placed it on his finger. He had awaited salvation; the healing of his wounds. He had waited in vain; vision had dimmed, the room grew dark, still, the floor red, slick. Not even the sound of a heartbeat remained. One hundred years he lay undiscovered. His body decayed and fell away, but the spirit remained. Formless he was....IT was. But now it knew its true master. The master of the rings. Little by little, year by year, decade by decade, it learned and reshaped itself. The centuries that followed had been.....good. In their way. He had served his master well, for ten thousand years, until the day his master was cast down to slumber and Sauron's body, broken by the effort, was = cast formless upon the mists of time. The Lord of the Rings, he had been called, but he knew that to be false. His lord was greater by far. Now it was time. His essence gathered, filled him. Reintegrating itself. Soon, Sauron would walk again, in service as the Right Hand of the master, on the face of the isles. Butt slowly did my master Lord Sauron return to himself, his grievous hurts healed by the force of his will alone, though it took a thousand years. He was found in the mortal plane, in the underdeeps, his shade perhaps seeking the proximity of his master. But he was physically weak, no trace of his former terrible power yet remained to him. The dervishes that found him could have = killed him easily, but his unblinking eye's forestalled them. The vestige of psychic empathy was enough..the merest touch on their minds was all Sauron was capable of. But that was enough. Instead, they took him to their master, the Dervish chieftain Novice Wizard of Trader's Point = (such a pathetic name...), who kept him, first as a pet and jester, but later as a trusted adviser, as my master's powers became more plain. =20 Oh how Novice Wizard came to regret that mercy! How he gibbered and = howled as his flesh crisped and blackened under my Lord Sauron's hand! Imprisoned in his agony he wished a thousand times that he had exterminated out of hand the sniveling being dragged before him those years ago! From winter to winter did his pain provide sport for my masters pleasure, before even he tired of that most pleasant of labors! My Lord Sauron took the vacant throne of Trader's Point. = Through whip and sword did he subjugate the unruly dervishes, filled with foolish notions of "goodness" as they were, and with promises of blood and fire and gold did he weld them into a mighty tool, subject only to his will. But, though he ruled with an iron hand, and forged Trader's Point in the flames of a thousand atrocities into one of the great cities of Arragoth, truly my Lord Sauron's power was but a thousandth of that granted by his Lord Arragoth. How he longed and dreamed of his master's return! And now listen well. This tale is no simple amusement for the petty princes who grub at the soil of the Isles of Arragoth and think themselves great. Know you that the time foreseen by my master is at hand. The portents are plain. The land warms, and the earth trembles with the restless turnings of Lord Arragoth in his deep prison. My master lord Sauron rejoices, for soon his master will awake, to find his trusted lieutenant of millennia, my Lord Sauron, again by his side!=20 Once again the nine will ride! Once again will Kings tremble! All will rue that day when my master's power and glory are finally returned! Know you. Mark these tidings. A single year is all the time allotted to you. Four seasons in which to enjoy your earthly pleasures before your petty empires are cast down in blood and fire and pain. Twelve short months before Lord Arragoth eats your soul. And of these, six are already past. But... perhaps... there may be a choice for you. It is not too late.=20 Join with my Lord Sauron. Worship his Lord Arragoth just as he does.=20 Defend his Lord Arragoth's citadel with your puny mortal forms against those who would seek to thwart his glorious return! Do these things and you may be rewarded when Lord Arragoth walks the isles once more, my master at his side. You may be permitted to live. In submission lies your one and only hope. For should you dare to resist, .....you.....will.....surely.....die.
Contact Arragoth's Servant at ivanmc@xtra.co.nz
Greetings, fellow wizards, my name is Ulric the Unclean, Clan Elder of the Talon Clan and leader of the Sand People, ruler of Nazair, the diamond in the desert. For many years the Sand People have been devided into many different Clans- all fighting among each other. Some years ago wise men of different Clans spoke of a great evil awakening soon, which could only be countered by all Clans working together and even the whole Race cooperating with other Races. Not every Clan leader saw the wisdow in these words, but in the following civil war the fraction who believed in these words prevailed and united under one leader : Ulric the Unclean, a wizard of great ambition, but without any merits so far. Now that the Sand People stand united against the evil the sages fortold we need to negotiate with the other magicians for I am sure that only a great alliance can stand against the evil god and his fiery minions. Many emissaries left the endless dunes of my dry home and if one of them reaches your domain treat him friendly as I will do with your men. There are 13 different expressions for hospitiality in the Sand People language but there is no word for mercy against an enemy. My servants already found one trustworthy ally and let it be known to anybody that leading an attack on him also means war with the Sand People. Let me close with an old saying of the Dune-dwellers tribesmen: Every Soul is worth a song
Contact Ulric the Unclean at bzeysing@hotmail.com
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Contact Nameless Wizard at jag349@yahoo.com
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Contact Robert the Wonderful at protossmaster2002@yahoo.com
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Contact Luthien DaSilva at luthien@online.no
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