PLAYER BLURBS.
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No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
Contact Nevin the Red at brucemichele@juno.com
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
Contact Abdul-Harib at mjorr@indiana.edu
We were standing in front of the portal. Several of the heroes and wizards looked decidedly ill. After years of fighting to free the islands from Arragoth, here is a portal. Most had settled into the peace. None wanted to make the sacrifice of going forward with the inevitable next step. I stepped forward. "I'll go." Two simple words. That's how I found myself here. I'd been wondering the island for weeks. Almost all of the races I had encountered were defeated. The island could be named desolation. Then I stumbled across the halflings. These "down-trodden" folk still had some fight left in them - well, the ability to complain noisily. I'd been in town for a few days. Then a few weeks. I made myself useful to a few of the older gentlemen of the village. I was polite - almost obsequious. Finally, one of them trusted me enough to have a real conversation. The conversation was, of course, about food. We were enjoying an afternoon pipe (one can't work well in the heat of the day, you know), and we started discussing the advantages and disadvantages of adding cilantro to stew. (I, personally, don't like to have it in my stews. It tends to lend the stew a cloying aftertaste. The halflings, of course, love it that way.) Then, mid-sentence, he stopped talking. "What's wrong, friend," I asked. "One of those overlords of Arragoth is comin'. He'll make us put up our pipes and get back ta work. IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY! It's too hot ta be out there doin' all that work." "Why don't you fight back? Send him off to where he came from." My life hinged on this answer. I couldn't let this overlord return to Arragoth with information on a stranger. It would make my life more difficult. "Oh, we could send him packin' easy enough. The problem is that we'd have more ta deal with tomorrow." "You could run them off, too." The overlord was getting closer and staring at me. I was beginning to get nervous. "Ta be rid of 'em, we'd need someone with strong magic. We don't have anyone. If Arragoth finds someone with the ability, he takes 'em. Bah! We'd love ta remove this yoke, but what can we really do?" "What if I had magic and offered to help you?" The overlord was far too close to run from now. He was beginning to perceptively change his path to approach me directly. "He he. If ye had magic, would ye be workin' me fields, lad? I appreciate the thought, though, but we'll go out and work up a sweat. Maybe he'll let us leave the fields early tonight." Even he didn't sound convinced of that one. He'd also begun to notice the overlord was paying more attention to me than him. I stood once the overlord was within about 30 paces. "Only one choice now," I thought. I drew upon the magic I had learned in a far off life. It came to me easily. I threw the magic at the fiend before me, and felt like my soul was being ripped from by body. I had started and there was no turning back now. I was dead either way, so I kept up the pressure. My muscles felt like liquid heat. I dropped to my knees. Still, he kept coming. I developed tunnel vision and knew I wasn't going to last much longer. Then everything went black. *** I awoke with a pounding skull in a bed. One that was long enough to hold me, too. The girl beside me got up and ran from the room. I looked at my surroundings in some surprise. I didn't realize that they had anything this comfortable. Then I wondered how much they were going to charge me. As I lay there in my dark thoughts realizing that I was too weak to rise, several older men and women came into the room. One stepped forward. I recognized him as the older gentleman that had befriended me, and he looked a bit sheepish standing there wringing his hat. "How ye be?" he asked. "I'll live." I wasn't feeling exactly loquacious at the moment. It must have been enough because the tension that I hadn't recognized left all of them. "Wonderful! Wonderful! We were a might worried. When ye killed the overlord, ye passed out. Several in the village wanted to throw ye out of town and beg mercy." He stared holes through several individuals. "Wiser heads realized that, if ye survived, ye could lead us to freedom. If ye would, ... that is ... if ye're interested ... " "I was hoping that we could come to that arrangement. I came from another world that Arragoth had enslaved. I came here to keep him from ever coming back to my world and enslaving it again. If you can help me with that, we can all be free." I can here the celebration starting from where I'm laying. They don't know what all that needs to be done is going to involve, of course. There is a ton of work to do. I need to learn how the magic works here. If I ever try that again, It'll kill me. Oh well, be careful what you ask for....
Contact Arkolyn at tom@alink.com
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HIGH ELVES
BE ADVISED WE ARE A FREE RACE, BUT ANY MEANS WILL BE USED TO STOP ANY WHO OPOSES US.
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Chapter
One "The Daemon"
The
forest, how he longed the magnificent trees, their evergreen leaves and the sound of the wind through them. To see the sun shining down on him
on
a clear patch close to the river. To dance and laugh in the middle of a
full
moon night.........
He
woke up startled..... why was he dreaming about a forest? He had never
seen
one and the only forest in this world were on the surface. Being a
Drow
magician, he knew they existed but he had never seen one. This was
not
the first time this had happened, somehow this dreams came to him
more
often lately. IT seemed as if he had lived in the surface
sometime....
but that would mean he was, had been a despised and hated
surface
elf. No that was impossible, his skin was as darks as the night
and
his arcane powers were linked to the underworld as sure as this city
was
Mensobroeanz.
He
bent on his work and began his latest spell, a wonderful creation. He
would
summon another plane entity, a powerful daemon and he could not
afford
to make a mistake. His chant could be heard in the rooms
surrounding
his chamber.... he was finishing the chant when in his mind
the
remembrances of trees became life....... this
was the last time he
had
a coherent thought, the already summoned daemon seeing his holder
daydream,
ate him as if he were little bite. After the daemon had wrecked
the
entire city and the other wizards had sent him to his own plane none
looked
for the young magician that had caused the problem, they did know
he
was surely dead.
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Chapter
Two "A Shark"
What
in the name of the seven Oceans had was happening to him?. He kept
telling
their mentors of these little dreams of things he did not
understand.
He kept seeing those weird brown and green things. They were
nothing
like the algae or sea weeds he was used to feed from.... And
where
was the water?. All his city, well all his world was surrounded by
water.
He was a member of the water elves and they always lived on, from,
with
water surrounding them. The elders looked at him curiously each time
he
reported the dreams. I was strange enough to have dreams, few of his
people
had, but have them about incomprehensible things was too much.
A
white shark smelled and saw this little elf swim through the protective
barrier
every water city had around. So lost into himself was the elf
that
he forgot to take the protective measures to walk out of his own
city
safe surroundings. He never saw the dark shape coming from above.
The
Shark was fast, smart and tired of waiting for the opportunity. The
shark
finally succeeded in taking one of the little elves after hours of
stalking
the city. Curiously at the same time a drow elf died summoning a
daemon
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Chapter
Three "A little what?"
He
was looking to a ceiling. All of a sudden to huge beautiful eyes came
into
his focus. They were merry eyes, laughing and happy eyes. They
belonged
to a woman, he realized. Someone hit her behind and he started
to
cry. Cry?. So.... yes he was a little baby..... how could this be
possible?.
He was a Drow magician before. No, a water elf. What in the
name
of god was happening?. Numbness
invaded his mind, a mind of a just
born
baby was overtaking all the knowledge stored from the other two
beings,
but the knowledge would remain, only the personalities will
disappear.
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Chapter Four "At
last"
The
Elf Queen was happy. Finally he had bore a son to the Supreme Speaker
of
Sacred Forest. He had named him Aeneas, in remembrance to Arragoth's
bane
in the first Arragoth war. The foretellers had read her son future.
His
son destiny was high indeed. He would be the one to forever end
Arragoth's
vile life. All hope was on him and his father and mother were
proud.
He would receive the best education and legend said that all elf
knowledge
were in him from the day he was born. She was not a believer of
legends
but the wisdom he saw in his son eyes the first time she hold him
told
her it was true even if it lasted just a second. He would rule them
all
and bring the long ago forgotten greatness to the elves of Arragoth's land.< /span>
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I
just suggest you to send a message by magic means if you want to join me and
my
slaves in the conquest of this world. So I say, let the strongest reign and
the
weak live in suffering and pain. |
Aeneas,
Bloody Leader of the High Elves Lord Clan.
MAY
THE LIFEFORECE OF THE FOREST PRESERV ALL WHAT WE HAVE IN THIS
LAND
Contact Aeneas at jmaqua@wanadoo.es
Hail Fellow Wizards,
I am Gorbaal, the new Leader of the Gnomes.
Welcome to all of you in this new quest against Arragoth.
I was born in a time of peace in a town called Camp Jollymount. I grew up peacefully amongst the Hill Dwarves who populated the region. I enjoyed the life in the hills and was taught in the military arts by my father who used to be one of the greatest Hill Dwarves leader. I was next to my father during the great war against Arragoth and I could see how he was leading his men. I could see him at the Fortress of Arragoth when they opened the Domains of Control. I celebrated with them the elimination of the Lava Legions and the destruction of the son of the Fire God. But my father never let me look through the Portal of Fire. Nevertheless I heard the rumour later on that Arragoth was not really dead and that he would most likely return one day.
I never knew my mother but apparently she was a Gnome Princess when my father met her. She married my father in a grand ceremony to strengthen the alliance between his Dwarves and her Gnomes. As I heard they lived happily for a little while living in the Camp Jollymount Palace. My mother became pregnant and the whole population rejoiced. But unfortunately she died when she gave birth to me. It was a sad moment for all the Dwarves and Gnomes. People tell me I look a lot like her. For sure I look more like a Gnome I also talk a lot like them which used to irritate some of the Dwarves leaders. I also have the gnomish gift of inventions. I remember playing with my father's tools and trying to experiment. Now and then there would be an explosion and my father would get all mad at me. I did more experiments later in my file and I became better at it.
Now a new time has come and as the rumour had said Arragoth has returned. It is now my time to be a leader and I have been chosen to lead the Gnomes. We will fight Arragoth again until he is dead forever and we will destroy all his Lava Legions again, his Fortress, his tunnels and other hideaways, just like our fathers did in the old days. Please join us all against this evil son of the Fire God and his famous Lava Legions. There will be victory at the end for the free people. We will liberate the world from Arragoth forever. Don't be fooled, it won't be easy but with courage and perseverance and after many hard fought battles we will get there. We hope that all the nations will join us in this adventure, an adventure which will for sure be remembered in all memories for a very long time.
In the words of my fellow Gnomes "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. In alliance is power; alone we are nothing more than bubbles on a Guidness". These words ring with truth through most of the Gnomes camps. 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.
Anyone coming against us will be dealt with accordingly. Any wrongful or mistrustful act, especially in political matters, will be dealt with accordingly. The Gnomes are clearly one of the most clever races to face on the field of battle. Our culture revolves around the warriors and ensures only the strongest survive. We are not above pillaging your kingdom to accumulate an invaluable supply of resources.
So please contact me at alain_hofmann@hotmail.com
Gorbaal, High Lord of Darnfiasbernenus.
P.S. We are a joyful bunch of people and we just love our inventions. But be very careful as some of them can be very dangerous. We hope that you will visit us one day and that we can have a bright feast in your honor in our capital city. We like parties so don't hesitate, if you ever come to our great city of Darnfiasbernenus, we will give you enough of our special potions to get you drunk for the rest of the campaign. All kinds of other entertainment can also be provided on request. Below is a picture of our last party in case you would like to have a preview.
Latest News
We have just been attacked by our northern neighbors the Hill Dwarves. We played a nasty trick on them and they all retreated or got killed. We liked that trick so much that we might want to try it again next month. Ha! Dwarves are slow and stupid, we gonna try different other tricks on them for a while and then we gonna show them who we really are. No one can attack the Gnomes and not be consequently punished.
This news of course is no good as we were hoping to present a unified front against Arragoth. Hopefully our other neighbors the High Elves will be more supportive of our goals. Already we have some ambassador in their town and peace seems to be possible. We respect the High Elves culture and we hope that we can enlist their support against Arragoth and Hill Dwarves. More news will certainly come during the next few months but we are now preparing our armies. Ragadagadadafalamakala!
Contact Gorbaal at noplayer@wow.pbemgame.com
Deep in the forest he waits. The time is comming when he will
have to
leave his home in the dark trees and join the battle, but for now we
watch. The races squable amongst themselves while the fire god grows
strong. They can not see, they do not know. Perhaps somday we will tell
them what we see but for now we will hide in our jungle home. Waiting....
for the right time. Know this the time IS comming, and when it does the
one who watches will be ready.
My name is GungaDin,
...and I am the leader of the Amazon people of Mila. We are
indian tribesmen. Having lived peacefully in the jungle for ages, our
defence is down and our capitol is little more than a little village. We
fear that the evil forces of Arragoth may destroy us before we will
manage to put up a real defence. In addition, resources are low, so trade
would be of great interest. We need to establish contact with other
nations on our island. Scouts have been sent to all the directions, and
soon they should meet other scouts. Let's hope they negotiate peacefully.
The Amazons are a race of jungle dwelling warriors. Both their
males and females are the fittest of nearly all humans. Cities of the
Amazons blend almost perfectly into the jungle. Not even this protects
them from Arragoths' reach. The Amazons are formidable opponents,
especially in There own territory. Poison darts seem to fly from naught
but trees at any that enter their domain. Mila is the sole Amazonian City
in the Domain of Arragoth.
MILA - Hidden in the jungles The great tree city of the Amozons
sits. Formed from the trees of old the Amazons rule There domain with
strength and resolve. The Wood Elves are not master Here nor any other
race. This is the home of the AMAZONS and yet the Amazons are still
enslaved like all the other races on the Isle of Slaves. Arragoths'
particular hatred of the humans of this Isle has had unfortunate
consequences for all its residents. Those Amazons who refuse to work are
hunted through the trees and vines they know so well, inevitably meeting
a fiery death. Smoke raising above the tree line is an indication that a
rebellious Amazon has been caught somewHere in the vast jungle. Despite
the harsh conditions imposed by the master of this domain, the Amazons
remain fit and with keen spirits.
The arrival of a user of the arts has rekindled the spirits of
the warriors, who are ready to repay the thousands of atrocities they
have suffered. Long have the people of the Amazon been enslaved that time
has come to an END!! With the coming of the dark stranger There is new
hope. Hope for freedom wHere once lived only despair. He brought nothing
with him but a simple robe and eyes of fire. The time of Arrgoroth is
over his words rang like a challenge through the trees and indeed it was.
Give us liberty or give us death. The battle cry was Heard. This
land shall one again feel the might of the AMAZONS. Foul races of the
dark lord beware for the Amazons are on the move. Our numbers grow. Soon,
very soon the battle cry of the Amazon will ring in the land of Arragoth.
Our ancestors who walk with the trees will guide us to victory over the
tree killers. The fire god will no longer burn our land.
DEATH TO THE INFIDELS
(From the 105th ancient scoll of Mila)
==========================================================
Mila
City Eternal. No one knows how long the fabled city has stood. The
ancient
stones that form the walls outdate even the oldest of tales, and the
knowledge of their building
has long passed. Once they were proud and strong, standing up to even
the mightiest onslaught.
Now, they are overgrown by the thick jungle, unable to beat it back
without the aid of magics that
built them in the first place. As Jhava-Ghad surveys the crumbles of his
lost city, he quietly
says to himself, "We WILL build again, and we WILL be free".
In mockery of his silent vow, a phalanx of lava legions parades by his
palace, a host of Amazon
slaves in tow. How long has it been since Arragoth enslaved the races of
the world for his use?
Jhava-Ghad cannot remember. As he watches the slave host march by, one
of his subjects falls to
the ground out of sheer exhaustion. One of the legions whips the poor
soul, trying to force the
vassal to his feet. He valiantly tries to regain his footing, but fails.
Finally, the soldier
tires of the debacle and lifts his hand high, and a burning fireball
streams from his fist. In a
scream of agony, the poor slave incinerates into a pile of ashes, and is
no more.
Jhava-Ghad watches the event, and a raging fire burns in his heart. With
a spin on his heel,
he flees from the window, and rushes to his desk. Pulling out an
official parchment, he begins
writing.
HERE YE, HERE YE, All able bodied men are hereby called to come together
boldly to retrieve
our home and heritage. This pestilence has continued for too long. All
men brave of heart enough
to heed the call shall receive twice the normal pay of those with
military obligations. All
military personnel shall immediately receive said increased pay. All men
shall meet at the town
hall in their respective regions one week from this writing. At that
time, I shall offer more
information. Together, we shall recover that which has been taken from
us.
Your Lord and Sovereign,
Jhava-Ghad
===================================================================
(In real life)
WARRIOR WOMEN OF THE
EURASIAN STEPPES
The warrior women known to ancient Greek authors as Amazons were
long thought to be creatures of myth. Now 50 ancient burial mounds near
the town of Pokrovka, Russia, near the Kazakhstan border, have yielded
skeletons of women buried with weapons, suggesting the Greek tales may
have had some basis in fact. Nomads known as the Sauromatians buried
their dead here beginning ca. 600 B.C.; according to Herodotus the
Sauromatians were descendants of the Amazons and the Scythians, who lived
north of the Sea of Azov. After ca. 400 B.C. the Pokrovka mounds were
reused by the Sarmatians, another nomadic tribe possibly related to the
Sauromatians. In general, females were buried with a wider variety and
larger quantity of artifacts than males, and seven female graves
contained iron swords or daggers, bronze arrowheads, and whetstones to
sharpen the weapons. Some scholars have argued that weapons found in
female burials served a purely ritual purpose, but the bones tell a
different story. The bowed leg bones of one 13- or 14-year-old girl
attest a life on horseback, and a bent arrowhead found in the body cavity
of another woman suggested that she had been killed in battle. The
Pokrovka women cannot have been the Amazons of Greek myth--who were said
to have lived far to the west--but they may have been one of many similar
nomadic tribes who occupied the Eurasian steppes in the Early Iron Age.
BY JEANNINE DAVIS-KIMBA
Herodotus, from Book X, The History of Herodotus
Thus spake the Tegeans; and the Athenians made reply as follows:- "We are
not ignorant that our forces were gathered here, not for the purpose of
speech-making, but for battle against the barbarian. Yet as the Tegeans
have been pleased to bring into debate the exploits performed by our two
nations, alike in carlier and in later times, we have no choice but to
set before you the grounds on which we claim it as our heritage, deserved
by our unchanging bravery, to be preferred above Arcadians. In the first
place, then, those very Heraclidae, whose leader they boast to have slain
at the Isthmus, and whom the other Greeks would not receive when they
asked a refuge from the bondage wherewith they were threatened by the
people of Mycinae, were given a shelter by us; and we brought down the
insolence of Eurystheus, and helped to gain the victory over those who
were at that time lords of the Peloponnese. Again, when the Argives led
their troops with Polynices against Thebes, and were slain and refused
burial, it is our boast that we went out against the Cadmeians, recovered
the bodies, and buried them at Eleusis in our own territory. Another
noble deed of ours was that against the Amazons, when they came from
their seats upon the Thermodon, and poured their hosts into Attica; and
in the Trojan war too we were not a whit behind any of the Greeks. But
what boots it to speak of these ancient matters? A nation which was brave
in those days might have grown cowardly since, and a nation of cowards
then might now be valiant. Enough therefore of our ancient achievements.
Contact GungaDin at rasputon@juno.com
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
Contact Dorlas at Philip.J.Robinson@btinternet.com
Blurb213ok
Bansha
A
florishing city in the jungle, full of nice, peaceful people. When I am
walking through the streets in form of a young girl I watch them with
amusement. They are farmers, living in the surroundings of the town,
merchants, artisans, doctors, town councillors, musicians, jugglers,
whores, thieves and very few, very bored town guards.
The streets are neat, the
houses even of the poorest proper and embellished with pots of orchids,
the titanic walls and towers are well conserved, but considered as
touristic attraction only and the splendid palace in the very center of
the city is polished every year, new gold laid on its cupolas and
statues.
I have come to this town at the
border of the ocean and encircled by jungles with a tiny boat, sailing a
long distance over the ocean. Nobody of these people here would believe
that as I am just looking like one of them, and I try to copy their
habits exactly. None of them would use boats to cross the ocean, nobody
has the interest to live any adventures. People from other races bring
the goods and stories from other parts of the world to this town, and
the inhabitants of Bansha live very well of it and cherish their little
lives. The time of adventures and wars only lives in the nightmares of
the oldest amongst them. They had fought the minions of Arragoth, the son of the
fire gods a long long time ago, but now all they want is peace in their
little domain on the isle of war.
How foolish they are!
Their last leader died peacefully in his bed and now they practise
something called democracy, this is a few dozens of people debating even
the most boring affairs endlessly in the former palace of the wizard. No
big decisions are taken, they are careful not to annoy their neighbours
and afraid to take any risks. This is not why I have come to this
island, to this city.
I came from the gateway, I
stepped through together with other wizards and we all are looking for a
new empire, for new wars and great victories. I don’t know if any of the
old wizards of this world have survived the wars against Arragoth, and
honestly, I don’t mind much. Those who might have survived surely did
this because they hid themselves in some deep caverns, in places too
disgusting for Arragoth to look for them. Perhaps fear made them go
crazy, and they surely are of no use for anybody now.
I led my boat far over the ocean to a new
interesting life of power, conquer and bloodshed, of war and
destruction. But how to do this with these boring, caring,
well-controlled, peaceful MEN I found in this magnificent town close to the warm
ocean? I need warriors, wizards, heroes, war-beasts, so I have to get
rid of them. I need their city, I don’t need them.
I will need to have a look around, to
check the resources of this town, of the jungle....
Lizards
I think I found
something promising deep on the jungle in a lonesome region men do not
dare to enter because of the ‚monsters‘ who are said to dwell there.
It’s just this prospect which attracted me. And look what I found: Some
sweet little lizards....
They are fiery warriors, are
quick and incredibly strong and can even climb on trees, but also may
hide between trees and rocks to kill their prey. And their saliva seems
to be poisonous. I caught some small ones and I will make some
experiments with them. Intelligence tests of course will come first. And I am
quite astonished. I heard a lot of horrible things about the
intelligence of the races of Arragoth, but these ones aren’t that
bad.
They watch me all day long
and already are used to my habits. And if I prepare some of the – quite
painful – tests for them, they seem willing in the meantime to try to
defend each other as soon as I come close to their cage. I will have to
separate them soon from each other although I regret very much that they
can’t fight and train any more this way, but I can’t handle them any
more when they are together. I am proud of them, they have by far more
potential than I expected. There never was a report of any wild animals
in these forest fighting together, and who organized
themselves.
After some genetic
experiments I managed to make them walk on their hind feet, so that they
will be able to carry weapons soon after some more modifications of
their forefeet. I am also planning to harden their claws even
more. When I treat their skin with acid carefully when they are still
babies, their skin becomes even harder and nearly impossible to
penetrate when they are grown-up. Unfortunately I had a lot of losses
during these experiments when my small lizards couldn’t grow any more as
their skin wasn’t flexible enough any longer. But in the meantime I
found a good mixture which perfectly fulfils its purpose.
´Some more
modifications...I don’t know if they are a real success. Should my race
of new lizards really have spines everywhere? Perhaps normal helmets
would be more useful, but they don’t fit well with those magnificent
spines...
This
will be the way they will look like...not just, of course my genetic
designer doesn’t have a feeling how a frightening opponent should look
like, he should keep some more of the features of the original lizards
and not that much the smooth skin of their human part. But even after
mixing their genes with human ones they keep their useful
characteristics: They’re taciturne, ferocious and cold-blooded. They
never show any fear. That’s that different from everything I met until
now on this world. I met other races and I rejected them, none of them
was good enough for my ambitious project.
Lizardmen
I call them Lizardmen. This name
fits them well. In the meantime they reproduct themselves at a high
rate, and I am already training the first young individuals in new
techniques of combat. Especially they need to learn how to kill quickly
and effectively without wasting much force. The weaponsmiths’ forges are glowing all day and all
night.
When should I strike?
Still wait some more time, wait for more trained warriors to take over
this human city? I may practise my magic in the meantime.
But no, it’s time to conquer an empire of my
own.
After a long march out of the deepest
jungle we reached a tiny hill which gave us a magnificent view upon
Bansha. My innocent lizardmen never had seem a similar thing and uttered
some groans of amazement, and when I explained to them that every living
being opposing them would be at their prey, their eyes started to gloom
reddishly and saliva dropped of the fangs of the most ferocious amongst
them.
I took the town with
nothing more than the 500 of lizardman warriors I had taken along.
They were magnificent! You should have seen them climb up the walls
despite the arrows flying against them and the boiling water seriously
hurting many of them. As soon as some of them managed to reach the top
of the wall, the fight was nearly over. There wasn’t much resistance in
the streets. The people hadn‘t seen well trained and heavenly
armoured warriors any more for more than half a century, and they fled,
jamming the streets and the portals.
Nobody dared to stand in my way when I
walked up the stairways to the palace of the former wizards, and the
town council agreed to complete and full surrender of the town after I
threatened to kill some more than the few hundreds of city guards whose
heads my warriors were carrying on their spears. Most people will have
to move away and I will only keep some young men and women for more
genetic experiments and those of the artisans, whores and merchants I
need. The rest of the population may farm the surrounding land, work in
the mines and bring me tribute, or, if they don’t like that I may use
their blood to fertilize the fields and their flesh to nourish my war
beasts.
The wizard’s palace
I am comfortably settled
now. I am sitting on the old throne of the wizards of Bansha which
is made of pure mithril and covered with cushions of blue velvet, a cold
drink in my hand, my prefered lizardmen commanders surround me and we
plan to enlarge the basis of our power. The former inhabitants quickly
got used to my leadership and accepted the kizardmen as superior race
very soon. Therefore they give me their gold, their children and lives
gladly. Life will be fun and excitement from now on, and me,
Ombra Mefita,
who watches the dusk fall over my city will see the dawn of the new
glorious empire of the lizardmen tomorrow.
Contact Ombra Mefita at anja.heller-kemp@t-online.de
|
![](3D"http://www.microsoft.com/gallery/images/snow.GIF")
The Story begins....Hluuurgh looked round and surreptitiously rubbed his right foot, = wincing somewhat. While kicking the more, shall we say, grey matterly challenged ambassadors = to the royal underdwarven court in the head was a deeply satisfying = pasttime, it did have its disadvantages when insufficiently hardened boot = met the solid bone that had seemed to comprise that particular idiot's = head. He should have known better than to kick a lizard man while wearing = only the foppish soft shoes that King Thragnot considered appropriate for = his palace. As an aside, it was a little known fact that the heads of lizard people = were, in fact, solid bone, their brains being located in their groin. = Hluuurgh considered this only appropriate given the sexual predilictions = of most lizard males, and a far more honest positioning than the average = race making a feeble pretence at virtue by storing them in their heads, = where they could be easily got at. Better for war too, as an aside. = Nothing was more demoralising to the average enemy than being beaten to = death by their own sword when they had just finished ramming it through = both of their opponents ears. All that tended to produce was a deaf, and = considerably annoyed, lizardman. Never annoy a lizardman you couldn't kill, was Hluuurgh!'s motto. Fortunately, this wasn't a problem for him. "Take it away" he ordered languidly. Stupid lizard. If it hadn't = insulted him he wouldn't have had to kick it. And if it hadn't hurt his = foot he wouldn't have had to have it killed, would he? Mind blast right = through the groin....served it right. "Boiled, white wine sauce" he added.= "Medium to well done". Nothing like a good boilup. For the thousandth time, Hluuurgh! contemplated changing his name. = Traditionally underdwarven names were chosen by the mother just after = birth, but in Hluuurgh!'s case his rather too eager father had asked the = question just a fraction too early. In fact, his actual name was - as = nearly as it is able to get with letters - HHHHLLUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRR-AAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but at least they had done him the favour of shortening it somewhat. That = was at the insistence of his mother, who had always been the smarter of = the two and remained somewhat embarrassed at her son's involuntary naming. In contrast however his father had, in a fit of entirely in character base = stupidity, as far as Hluuurgh was concerned, inculcated a great deal of = pride into his son about his name and its specific and detailed method of = actual intonation (ie identically to the way his mother had said it) = BEFORE releasing him (and therefore before Hluuurgh knew any better) on an = unsuspecting outside underdwarven world. Specifically, the training = schools for young dwarves. Unfortunately, when properly pronounced, answering the seemingly simple = question "What is your name?" had inevitably resulted in a concerned = teacher either giving him a laxative and sending him to the communal cess-= pit, or punishing him for gross insolence. After some time it had become = a running joke amongst the teachers and students. Ho ho ho. Hluuurgh = hoped they had also found it funny dying in the carefully planned variety = of "accidents" he had arranged for them. Sadly, Hluuurgh had not been the prime specimen of dwarven beef that his = father had envisaged. He was, to put it frankly, the runt of the family, = and had been mercilessly bullied by his siblings, classmates, and anyone = else who happened to come along and was bigger than him, which was just = about everyone. Short (and remember we're talking about DWARVES here), = wiry, with somewhat pale skin and slightly buck teeth, Hluuurgh has seldom = been sucessful at any physical activity you could manage to think of. The = humiliation of defeat by young dwarves half his age had almost been too = much to bear. Almost, but not quite. For young Hluuurgh! had a brain, and the library was a convenient refuge - = the least likely place to find dwarven bullies....or many dwarves at all, = for that matter. Only the prospect of exquisite revenge had kept him going = through all those years. That, and his discovery in the library of the = secrets of magical power, beyond anything any member of his race had ever = gone before. The books were there, in fact, solely because his tutors had = understood them not at all. But of a race not noted for its intellectual = prowess, Hluuurgh was a notable exception, and to his agile brain it has = all fallen into place. Thank Arragoth for his mother, was Hluuurgh's fervent opinion. And thank = Arragoth for his powers......the Lord of Fire had given him much over the = years. Not many knew the power of the dark side....to be had for the = asking. But....Hluuurgh! chafed under the rule of Arragoth. And, to be = honest, Hluuurgh enjoyed his power too much to want to give it back easily.= Just a few promises to be made for such power....promises, promises, = such little things. Made to be broken..except that Arragoth was not a god = to be crossed. Unless, perhaps.....if everyone else was doing it at the same time. Oh = yes......THEN, it might be possible. Rumours of rebellion were never far from Hluuurgh!'s ears, but this time = it was different. New wizards had emerged...sourced, some said, from = outside this world. Here to defeat Arragoth, apparently. Hluuurgh! knew = an opportunity when he heard one. And what was the alternative after all? Go back to being the under-= developed scrawny picked-on despised runt? Be Arragoth's slave for = eternity? Not. Bloody. Likely. Hluuurgh lived for the delicious thrill of causing painful death to any = being that tried to bully him. Which seemed to be just about everyone, = unless they saw someone else try first or knew him by reputation. The = thrill of watching them sweat in fear, their bladder's emptying at the = realisation that they would never leave his torture chamber alive. Their = piteous weeping - so strong when THEY were the bullies; never any hint of = mercy from THEM! They made Hlurrgh! sick to his stomach; a problem which = he cured by relieving them of theirs. With a quiet sigh, Hluuurgh slid from his chair and headed toward the = throne room. Pausing at a discreet side entrance, he listened carefully. = His suspicions confirmed, Hluuurgh pushed the door open quietly and = entered, disturbing not a whit the assembled ambassadors, the gnomish = dignatory now in his second hour of droning and showing no signs of = slowing. In the throne slouched the recumbent figure of King Thragnot the = Rock-headed, nodding his head solemly at the gnomish word babbler at = precise 5 second intervals. Just as Hluuurgh!had programmed him to do. Hluuurgh beamed at the King happily. No one suspected that the King had = no volition remaining whatsoever; probably because the King had never had = much in the first place, apart from some admittedly easily grasped = concepts such as "kill", "eat" and "make baby dwarves". Hluuurgh had = programmed a large number of simple action strings into the King's brain ("= macro's", he called them) for most occasions, and could take direct = control when necessary, but remaining careful not to portray the King as a = dwarf that actually contained a brain (which would have been thoroughly = out of character). Somehow, the decisions that Hluuurgh wanted just = seemed to arrive naturally from the King's mouth, to the absolute = bafflement of his enemies. The only dwarven councillors that had ever = shown any glimmer of suspicion had met untimely ends. The rest, such as = Hluuurgh allowed to remain, either suspected nothing or kept their mouths = shut in a greater display of wisdom than Hluuurgh would have given them = credit for. The gnome had finally deigned to notice the intrusion. Pausing for a = second to wipe stray flecks of foam from his beard, the ambassador winkled = his exceedingly large nose in annoyance. "And who, Sir Small and Ugly = Dwarf, might you be, to interrupt important treaty negotiations? The = crusade against Arragoth is too important a subject to waste on boys". Pompous at best, the Gnomes, thought Hluuurgh. Tough and stringy meat, too.= He bared his teeth in whatmight have passed for a smile, but wasn't. "Allow me to introduce myself" said Hluuurgh. "I am the foremost advisor = to King Thragnot the Rockheaded, and the most dangerous and powerful dwarf = in the underworld. I am a wizard of fire and darkness such as you have nev= er seen, and I am going to kill Arragoth singlehanded. You would do well = to show more respect, or make your peace with your gods, such weaklings as = they may be. My name is...." Staring at each one of the assembled ambassadors with malevolent intensity,= Hluuurgh carefully and with the correct intonation told them his name. The ambassadors stared at this slight...no, scrawny was the word...dwarf = with the strange staff in absolute silence. The most dangerous dwarf in = the underworld? Kill Lord Arragoth...by himself?!? And that name......! = The gnomish ambassador was the first to crack. His face turned red, = began to twitch. His eyes watered. Finally he could bear it no longer and = exploded into laughter. It was the straw that broke the slave's back....= in seconds the entire company of assembled ambassadors had dissolved into = helpless gales of mirth at this ridiculous dwarf-boy. Even the haughty = high elf had cracked a smile, while the dervish ambassador laughed a = maniacal laugh with a hot gaze that suggested madness. "Heh heh heh....away wi' ye lad" snorted the gnome, regaining some = semblance of control.."I can see that ye're not a full grown yet. And I = thank you for the amusement you've given us with that silly name - you don'= t have to say your real one if ye don't wish. But you run along now and = let your betters do the serious business." Hluuurgh savoured the rage coursing through his veins like a fine wine. = He studied them all, committing their names to memory. Nodding once, he = turned and left. Some of the ambassadors would die over the next few days, and that would = be the finish of it. Tragic accidents all....dangerous animals hereabouts = etc etc. With others, Hluuurgh had simply decided that he disliked their = entire race...that gnome for instance, with their patronising assumed = intellectual superiority. The High Elves... arrogant half-vegetable = overbrained hippie tree huggers, far too tall for his liking. And the = minotaurs...8ft on average! Disgusting!! He considered a lethal display = of magical power against the gnome representative, but decided against it. = Best they underestimated him for now - best they think the kingdom led by = King Thragnot the Rockheaded, still nodding his head at precise five = second intervals. His life's mission was clear: making the world safe for the vertically = challenged. They would suffer, the tall things. They would all suffer a = GREAT deal. And the tallest poppy of all? Arragoth, the god of fire. Arragoth will = surely die. |
Contact Hluuurgh! at ivanmc@xtra.co.nz
The difference between an eye of newt and an eye of bat is not as great as the difference between a man of the sword and a man of the unseen powers of magic. Replacing the eye of newt with the eye of bat can be compensated with three frog legs and the eye of newt is more agreeable with the palate, especially when complimented with a nice bottle of white wine. The difference between a swordsman and a magician is vastly wider. When a knight kills a mage, he rids the world of evil, but if a warlock causes the death of a king (or even if he is suspected of conspiring to do so), he is chased to the end of the world, and then some. While trying to evade these ruthless, fanatic, blood-hungry men of war, the wizard, quite often, is practically defenseless, as spell components are hard enough to find even when you don't have to hide out in caves or old barns. The warrior's life is a short, glorious one, which climaxes in his untimely death in a great battle for some noble cause. He may carry a noble title, Earl, or Duke, or even King. A Wizard's life is usually a short, dark, mysterious life, dying at the hands of petty thieves who broke in to steal the silver, which he obviously was lacking. He may carry the title of Court Magician. Believe me, not every mage is spectacular. Not to say that every sword-bearer is an dragon killer, but there is definitely a higher chance of earning a title by the sword than surviving as a man of the secret powers. After all, how many famous magicians have you heard of? Three? Four? Have you ever heard of Noor's great warlock, Pierre l'Merde (He gained his title by dropping dung piles on enemy forces), or of Aloria's grand Phtom-lek ? But everyone has heard of Sir Valiant, Sir Honorable, Sir Virtuous, the duke of this, the high lord of that. It just goes to show that most men prefer a good blood-dripping sword to an eye of newt.Okay, okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, but here at King Snoddy's court, I've seen more hatred directed towards old Noggin than I ever imagined possible. Maybe I should tell you a little more about myself, so as to make it easier for you to understand what I really mean. Four years ago King Asnodine the Third's court magician, Slanoggin, had an affair with my sister, Neeta. Nine months later she gave birth to my darling nephew, Nogeet. When Slanoggin heard that she had given birth (and that the child survived the birth, too), he did the only thing a respectable wizard could do -- he took me on as an apprentice, to learn all about the dark secrets and how to use them. More than three years have passed and I must say that I've come a long way since I came to him, young twit that I was. By now, I can tell the difference between toad legs and frog legs, between salamander eyes and gecko eyes, and I cast a spell or two. (I can cause small flames to appear out of nowhere and I can cause any inanimate to glow, and even to shine as bright as the sun).'F'noot,' he said in his deep, gruff voice. 'I think you're coming along just fine. Now get me some poison ivy.'He's one of those really warm people, if you know what I mean. However, not everybody can see through his tough skin. For instance, Sir Tiwan, who accidentally found his death in the garden one day when an extremely rare spider bit him amongst the geraniums. Interestingly enough, he had accused Noggin with murderous intentions just the night before. However, as Noggin was distantly related to the king's mistress, he was never put on trial for treason (which is all for the best, because the chaos it would have caused would have been enormous). There was a slight fuss at the funeral, but nothing that Noggin couldn't get away with. After all, it wasn't his fault that the honorable Sir Tiwan had thrust his hand where no hand had gone before (It had been a fresh batch of geraniums, just in off the ship). And so, you may ask, why am I, F'noot Snokhan, son of J'kard Snokhan, village shoemaker, staying here at the castle, as an appentice to an occupation which may cause my untimely death, before the age of twenty-five? Why don't I go and join all the other sixteen year old youths who are practising their fencing and horse-riding? These questions have two answers to them. One, my family will be humiliated if I don't finish this apprenticeship successfully (As if the humiliation of an illegitimate grandson wasn't enough). Two, I do not have the physical fitness needed to swing around a sword and my social status does not open many job opportunities, besides shoemaking and begging. Not that either of those two wonderful occupations are not legitimate enough, or honorable enough for that matter, it's just that magic is so much more interesting. Just tell me this -- wouldn't you prefer a dangerous and mysterious life to a boring, banal life as a shoemaker ? No? Let me put it another way -- wouldn't you prefer to sleep in the castle and eat four solid meals a day than to sleep in a leaky loft over your father's chicken coop and subsist mostly on turnips, rutabagas and rye bread? Well, I never could abide rutabagas. Besides, my master admits to two-score years, and I suspect him of many more (scores, not years), so not all mages meet an early end. Anyway, for three years, I have fetched Noggin his poison ivy or whatnot, blackened his boots and kept the embroidery on his court robes in repair. And I study; I can read pretty well, do some some maths, and have a smattering of the Anglo, Persian and Latin languages. Today, I am hauling a pail of horse manure (no, it is not a spell component; it is for my master's herb garden) when Worm runs up, panting for breath. "Hey, Foot!" He gasps, "h-, h- " He is too out-of-breath to speak, and I flex my aching shoulders and put down my pail. W'rym Hodges, one of the court pages, is my only friend in the world, but only because he is too simple to realize that mages are a poor choice for companionship. "What is it, Worm?" I ask. "His Majesty wants Slanoggin in his chambers righ' away!" Worm speaks so fast the the sentence sounds about three words long. "What, why?" "I don' know, he was yellin' pretty loud, though." I sigh, "Noggin's in town, and not expected back until this evening," I reply, "Do you think His Majesty will wait?" "He sounded angry, Foot -- awful angry. I don' wan' a tell him Slanoggin isn't comin'." I sigh again, and look down at my soiled clothes, "I guess I had better go get cleaned up and head on up there." "Fast!" I leave Worm with the pail and run as fast as I can to my small alcove in Noggin's workshop (up, of course; wizards always live in towers). In the time that I have lived here, I have only been allowed to speak to the king once -- I said "Thank you, Sire," when I was introduced to him upon taking up residence in his castle. I have no clean clothes! Luckily, another minor spell I've learned allows me to cast small illusions (that are not very hard to see through). I use this to blend the stains and a small tear into the rest of the fabric of my best court garb. Donning it, I hustle my sweaty frame down the tower steps, across the courtyard and up to Snoddy's residence itself while tearing my fingers through the worst of the tangles in my hair. "No Slanoggin?" the guard frowns, "His Majesty isn't going to like that." "I know," I sigh, "Still, what is one to do?" "True enough," the guard opens the door and steps inside. "F'noot, Apprentice to the Mage Slanoggin, begs audience with His Majesty Asnodine III!" he announces. "Oh, balls, no Slanoggin!?" I hear the kings irate voice, "Very well, let the lad in." "Sire!" I bend low to the floor, skinny derriere up in the air, "It is a privilege to serve you!"Snoddy sprawls in a large sunken bath; perfume steams into the air above the water. "Get up and get over here," he snarls, "There is a bag o' runes on that table. You will tell me my future." "Your future, Sire?" "Will you make me repeat myself?!" "Yes, Sire! I mean, no, Sire!" I grab the silken bag and pour the stones into my hand. They are the most beautiful I have seen. Without ceremony, I toss them onto the ground near the bath and watch horrified as one skitters in. The king quickly fishes it out and hands it to me, his eyes already on those I cast. As I toss the last stone, I realize that he is barely hiding a sense of panic. "Now, what do they say?" he demands. I look up and swallow, fearing just how much he can read the runes himself. Now many people seem to think that supernatural tools such as the runes or the tarot are not much more than simple wave-of-your-hand, snake-oil showmanship -- any old fool can learn the meaning of each tile or card and learn how to string it all together. On the other hand, some people feel these devices are surrounded by mysterious and deep secrets which can only be truly understood by the wise and learned.To be honest, both are right -- to a degree. Any old fool can learn the basic meaning for Fehu and Gehu or for Temperance and Death. Casting the runes is easy. Shuffling the Tarot is a piece of cake. Seeing what stones lie face up, or which cards are laid out, is child's play and any idiot can manufacture a story that ties them all together. (Well, maybe not any idiot. I have my doubts about Worm's abilities as a convincing storyteller.) But to really devine the future from the runes or the tarot, one must know more than just the basics. The depths of true meaning is found only in understanding the subtle inter-relationships between the different archetypal icons and images. Knowing that the Gefu rune to the right of Fehu means that the client will give wealth away while Gefu to the left of Fehu means that someone else will give wealth to your client. Or knowing that when the card of the High Priestess is surrounded by many cards of the Sword suit, the future deals with an internal, subconscious battle. This is the type of knowledge that raises a real soothsayer above the common rable, that marks the prophesies of a true diviner. Unfortunately, I've never been very good at remembering subtle details. "Get on with it boy!" Jumping at Snoddy's snap, I look over to see that he is now leaning halfway out of his perfumed bath, dripping soapy water onto the floor. Oddly, I notice that water from the puddle forming beneath his hairy chest has begun to slowly meander towards the scattered stones. "Uh, yes Sire. Of course sire." I wipe my now-damp palms down the side of my tunic to calm myself, and then take a closer look at the scattered runes. Out of the 24 rune stones, only thirteen are face up. Thirteen! I hope Snoddy doesn't think to count them -- that particular number would probably panic him more. I decide I'd better keep things simple by only considering the face-up stones (Why should I confuse the issue with the less important secondary relationships associated with face down runes? Besides, I bet I'm going to have enough trouble just figuring out the rest!) Stalling for time to collect my thoughts and concoct a future reading, I begin to trace my finger above the scattered runes and mutter under my breath as if I am ruminating on the individual significance of each stone (a useful trick I picked up from watching Slanoggin over the years). Out of the corner of my eye I can see that Snoddy is watching my movements like a hawk. The important stones have fallen in an unusually regular pattern, roughly forming two concentric circles with a single stone at the very center. I start my tracery with the middle stone, and realize that it is the stone which flipped into Snoddy's bath. Briefly, I wonder whether the soap bubbles should affect the reading. The rune is Berkana, "the Birch", known for its durability and vitality. Unfortunately the rune is inverted, the top pointing down towards my feet, which doesn't bode well for old Snoddy and his Vitality. Berkana is tightly encircled by four runes, Hagla to the left, Pethru above, Ihwar to the right and Tiwar below: "Cruel Nature", "The Unseen", "The Hunter" and "War" respectively. I swallow nervously -- this is not looking very promising, especially since the top of each rune points in towards Berkana. I quietly pray that the outer eight runes are more promising -- I have the distinct feeling that my career would not be favourably advanced by pronouncing that the King's future is doomed. I start a clockwise circuit of the outer ring of face-up rune stones just to the left and up from Hagla. The circuit starts with Raidu, "Journeying" which is followed by Kaunna, "Fire"; Naudir, "Desperate Need"; Isar, "Ice"; Mannar, "Wisdom"; Lagur, "Water"; Aigir, "Protection"; and Dagar, "Daylight". And each rune lies so that it follows the curve of the surrounding circle, the head of one leading into the foot of the next.I stare at the runes for a moment more, and finally step away from these hellish devices. I wonder whether I should err on the conservative side, making a warning where ever a warning would be prudent, or err on the side of keeping my job by hand-waving over the negative implications. Slowly I turn and look over where King Asnodine is leaning so far out of his bath in anticipation that if he leaned just one inch more he would fall out, sprawling his soapy body among his princely runestones. "Well boy, what does it mean? Tell me boy, I need to know, and I need to know NOW!" I quickly decide that starting with the centre rune would be a bad idea - I never have liked starting with the obvious - you can't bullshit as well. Completely at random I focus on one of the outer eight - Raidu. Breathing deeply, I drop my voice low, trying to imitate Noggin's deep voice. "Sire," my vocal chords squeak out. I cough and start again, pointing at Raidu. Suddenly an idea comes to me. I quickly thank all the Gods I know of, in case one of Them sent it to me. "This rune represents but one of the four focuses of your power." I indicate Brekana idly with my hand. "Each focus is three fold. We have Raidu, Dagar and Hagla in the west, the sunset - or we could say Dark - side of your power." I glance at the King to check his reaction. I notice he's slid back down into the bath slightly. I let out a breath I hadn't realize I had been holding. I gesture to the other side of Brekana. "Here, on the sunrise side we have Mannar, Isar, and Ihwar, representing your Bright side of power - the parts that your subjects love about you." I realize that the King must know nothing of the meanings of these words, because he doesn't find it odd that "Ice" is included in this group. I let myself smile. Warming up to my telling, I tackle the bottom three runes. "Here, sire, we have your foundations, what you've built your kingdom on - Algir, Lagur, and Tiwar." I purposely pronouce the last one Tih-wahr not Tih-wore, hoping he won't ask me it's meaning. I guessed wrong."Quit being coy, boy and tell me what they mean! I have court magicians to tell me things in plain language, not in gobbly-gook!" He sits back in the tub, causing water to slosh over the edge of the bath and wash away several of the face-down runes. "Well, sire. Your kingdom, as most are in these trying times, is based on Protection - for your subjects and from your subjects; Water - You control most of the ports on this side of the ocean; and - War - your glorious forays into the lands of the infidels who do not look to your leadership." I mentally cross my fingers and hope he buys it. I glance over - he's grinning at me like a school boy. "I told them I was doing it right - Protect, Ports, Punish!" he tells me. With hand gestures that cover me with water droplets, he motions for me to continue. I turn back to the first three runes. "Linked to your forays, you have a love of journeying that no one knows about and that you don't get to fulfil often, a journeying into the world to face Cruelest Nature and to tame her. But with Dagar, or Daylight, appearing here you wish to bring these desires out into the east, into the surise, moving through your power, your vitality that is Brekana." I gesture to the centre stone again. I wonder if I went too far on that one, but he grins at me again, this time with a conspirator's smile. He doesn't say anything but he does blush a bit. I wisely pretend I don't see his embarrassment. "To the East, your Bright side, you are the Hunter - the provider for everyone in your kingdom. And you are wise, and the people love your wisdom. And -" Here I glance at the king's body wondering if I can get away with what I'm about to say. "You are beautiful sire. You sparkle like ice in winter. You're dangerous, but handsome. To many people, the perfect ruler." I roll my eyes and tell myself to shut up before I get into trouble, but my mouth seems to have a life of its own. "You are firm and cold in your decisions, but not unwilling to melt a little bit if presented with the heat of passion, to be flexible when you wish." By this point the King has sunk down almost completely underwater. So he's easy to flatter, I realize. I'll remember this in the future, when I'm court magician, I think, ambition beginning to rise in me. I make my voice as low as it can go and boom out in a prophet's voice (or at least what I think a prophet's voice would sound like). "And finally, sire, your future, what your power, your reign and even YOUR LIFE depend upon." The King quickly scrambles back out onto the edge of the bath, leaning forward, waiting for my pronouncement. I look at the three remaing runes - Fire, Desperate Need, and the Unseen, reversed! - and realize I'm in deep shit. I pause a moment to study Pethru (the unseen). The rune is beautifully carved out of a stone I do not recognize. Unlike the cheap set I own, it is the work of a master craftsman; I am mesmerized in by its beauty. I begin to speak, but my thoughts are focused on the quality of rune. "Your future begins with..." My voice trails off when the rune is suddenly cloaked in a mist. I rub my eyes and return my gaze to the stone. The mist is gone. In the background Snoddy is inching forward ever so slightly, trying to discern what I might be seeing. Must have been staring a little to hard I think to myself. "My future begins with what?" Now Snoddy doesn't like to be kept waiting. In fact, he hates it. The combination of the hot bath water and his excitement were turning his face a positively bright red. "Sorry" I say, realizing if I don't finish this reading I won't live long enough to be court magician. I turn back to Pethru. The intricacies of the carving fascinate me. My gaze is once again captured by its perfection. "Your future begins with ..." The mist is there again, rolling across the face of the rune. It clings the rune obscuring it. This time I rub my eyes and shake my head. When I look back, the mist is gone. Just some steam from the bath, I think to myself. "MY FUTURE BEGINS WITH WHAT WHAT WHAT?" Snoddy is getting hysterical, so I immediately return to reading the runes. Once again, pethru grabs my gaze; and once again the mist forms around it. "Do you see that?" I ask, continuing to stare at the rune. "Do I see what?" The King is panicking. "The Pethru rune," I say, "Do you see that?" I point to the rune and its mini-cloud. Snoddy leans way forward out of the bath resting his considerable weight on his elbows. "WHAT, WHAT. TELL ME WHAT YOU SEE!" I suddenly realize just how anxious the King is about his future; and my survival skills were kicking in. I begin my analysis again. "Your future begins with..." Suddenly, the mist begins spreading to the neighboring runes. My attention is drawn to Naudir (desperate need). The rune seems to be falling back away from me, leaving a void. I am drawn in the space it has left. I get this strange feeling that Pethru is reaching out, involving the other runes. Somehow, I know Pethru is the key. "Now you listen F'noot and you listen good," Snoddy intones in a low threatening growl. "If you don't tell me what is going on I will slay you myself right here. GUARDS! GUARDS! Fetch me my sword." I pay him no mind. Wafts of mist are being drawn off Pethru in a whirlpool around Naudir. I have never seen anything like this. A pattern is forming; a pattern, or perhaps a window; yes, its like a stained glass window. Suddenly, Pethru and Naudir ignite Kaunna (fire). The rune springs to life in a fiery glow. Isar (ice) is next. It radiates cold blue. As each rune joins, the window becomes more complex, and more transparent. I can see something through the window, but I can't make it out. Ihwar (the hunter) and Raidu (journeying) are the next runes included. Hagla (cruel nature), Mannar (wisdom), Dagar (daylight), Tiwar (war), Lagur (water) and Aigir (protection) all join together to form an intricate pattern around the center and as yet lifeless Berkana (the birch). I realize the runes are a catalyst. In much the same way that a bat wing and two holly berries help the mage unlock the forces of light, the runes are a tool of divination; but what will they show me? The future? The Past? I struggle to see through the window. Berkana is the focus, the lens which will make everything clear. Pethru? Pethru somehow ties this all together. It is the driving force. In the distance I am aware the guard has returned. Naked, Snoddy leaps from his bath, slips on the wet floor and lands next to me with a flabby thud. "BALLS! You'll pay for that F'maggot. Give me my sword now or you'll be next," Snoddy threatens the guard. I extend my finger and it goes through Berkana! Suddenly, the shimmering tapestry of runes engulfs me in a whirlpool of shimmering light! "This is your last chance F'nidiot. You will tell me my future or you will die," is a last thing I hear before I am being drown inside in the splashes of emerald light. I open my eyes (dont remember when I become unconcious) to see that somehow this place is different. It is possibly even different world, and different time. Oh, my, how did I get myself in such mess? Damn, sometimes I wish my sister had slept with some old, stupid blacksmith, and not a brlliant old wizard like Noggin. ... Hmm, thinking of which I do realize that only wizardry can bring me back from this misfortune. I must find the way, yes, I will find the way!
Contact Black Wizard at timdvoskin@infonet.by
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Contact No Name at jhenson@calpoly.edu
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Contact John The Boring at john@mcintoshhome.freeserve.co.uk
"From the History of the Orcs.... This universe began when the Great Unnamed One opened his eyes and saw the infinite expanse of swirling fire and chaos that was the totality of all that existed. After an unknowable period of time he came to know loneliness. He purposed in his heart to make others in his likeness that he might commune with them and put aside the burden of loneliness. Reaching into the fiery Chaos he formed the tools he would need. First he created an anvil upon which to craft his creation this he called "Order" next he pulled from the chaos a tool which he called "intelligence." Reaching a third time into the fire he pulled a handful of pure chaos and laid it on the anvil and began to work it with the hammer. Slowly 12 individual and distinct forms began to colas. Each perfectly formed and identical. As His labor neared completion he became dissatisfied with the results. Each was perfect true...but they lacked that unique quality the made him, Him. Finally He hit upon a solution of sorts. As the forging process entered its final phase he held each out into the fiery chaos for a brief moment. The Pure chaos subtly changed each in a unique and unforknowable way. When the process was finished there stood before him 12 beings we now call the Orc gods... After the conflict had been resolved Dw'aomuck purposed in his heart to do as the father had and create creatures, Not for companionship did he create them, but to rule over them as master and have them serve him. Long did he labor. But regardless of his skill and effort when each was brought in from the final forging in the stuff of chaos his creations were all shown to be grievously flawed. All were misshapen in body or mind. Time and again he tried but each time the creation was a disaster. Eventually his siblings discovered what he had been doing alone and in secret. Confronting him and they forced him to cease his perverted labors and sought to put an end to the misshapen monstrosities he had crafted. Most were put out of their misery some few escaped for though flawed and lesser creations, power they still possessed, enough to jointly form a refuge for themselves. Deep in a rocky cocoon they hid themselves. Among themselves they formed a pact that all would do whatever was within their power to keep the elders from breaching their refuge. Declaring themselves to be gods they set out to duplicate the work of Their creator and fashioned misshapen copies of their already misshapen forms and sent them to the surface of the rocky sphere to guard their resting place from intrusion. Thus came to be the races of the Elves, Humans, Orcs, Gnomes, Halflings, Minotaur, and many others. Though prevented by the combined forces of the young beings from directly attacking them the 12 elders devised a plan. Bending their combined skill and knowledge they crafted a new race of being not in their own flawed image but in the image of their Creator. They succeeded Thus were we formed." ~~~ ~~~~ Excerpt from the musings of Orandumus "the Devout" Leading Orc Scholar. ~~~~~~~~ I am interested in Allies. I'd like to be on the winning side for once :)
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