PLAYER BLURBS.
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Welcome all yee who seek knowledge... It has been a long time that our people's have travelled from the eastern lands of "It was the age of darkness, when the sun never broke through the dark and stormy clouds, with the weather's harsh icy wind alone being a deadly force to be dealt with from day to day. The creator's glorious work was now the tales of legends. It seemed to have been totally undone in a short period, with the forces of evil and destruction ruling all of the lands that our elders knew. All laws of nature seemed to have been broken and the seasons were gone. The powers of magic were also somehow diminished, if not totally negated, by forces unknown. Many a long known magical art were lost in practical terms and script, leaving only a few of the ancient crafts remembered by a few devote practitioners, albeit their inability to practice them. During these times dark and mystic shadows moved throughout the skies, never materialising but forever being the forwarning of the approaching armies of the Dark Ones minions. It was believed that these were manifestations from the bodies of the evil dark leaders, yet they were remained unknown in body or name to those who inhabited the lands. Many peoples were lost in those days, with total races being lost to the marauding forces of evil and becoming known only in folklore, such as the orces, centaurs and manticores. Even our close breatheren, the naiads, were lost to us forever, together with vaste archives of their unique mechanistic knowledge. Many of our forefathers were lost in those days too, slain with their whole kinfolk in merciless battles, which were inevitably finished only with no life remaining, even their animals and pets. It seemed that the total destruction of all life was the goal of these shadowy beings. Our people survived solely by using our unique knowledge, creating small communities with complex defenses and traps to keep our enemy at bay, although eventually most of these villages were lost over the years. It was only by keeping mobile were we able to endure these years. It seem that all effort was spent on survival by all races, despite our best efforts to raise the perennial struggle through co-operation, including some minor victories too. But after four generations and 140 years it seemed that our final fate was drawing ever nearer. It was in these darkest years that our creator seemed to answer our persistent pleas for divine intervention. For amongst all the surviving races it came to pass that in a short period one was born bearing unusual features to their brothers and yet still taken within their clan. It was only after each reached their "age of earning" did they finally come to understand their strange longings and visions. For it is told each left their village, some more easily than others, only to find each drawn to the same location, on a long forgotten barren and devastated island to the north. As they came together, strong natural phenomena began to occur, the long dead gems and crystals again began to glow with an inner power (although none left alive knew how to use the crystals anymore), the skies began to disperse in small isolated areas and the winds even decreased or warmed for short periods. Several years of these strange events were to pass before they returned back to their home villages, to the surprise of most who had presumed each lost to the forces of evil. Our Naagathuti who left as a wide eyed youth was now sullen and quiet but with an aura of strength and power. Soon he had the elders as believers of his divine right to leadership of our people, as it was clear he held the power we all were awaiting. And so began the Second Age of the Wizards. In time, as knowledge was shared, apprentices become skilled, and vital magical gem sources were collected, our people soon gain the power to hold the forces of evil at bay. Then in time, as all races made equal gains in power, evil was pushed back further and the world returned to normal. Many famous tales of heroic and brave deeds were told of these glory years. But it was feared that the eventual normalcy was just a respite. And so the wizards all came together and entered into the realm of where they expected this evil to dwell, in the upper regions of the astral zone. Lore speaks of mighty events occurring in the skies that time but the real events are locked in the silence of the oath of wizards. All that they told their people was that evil had been defeated and banished from their worlds. As time revolved, the races prospered and in due course Naagathuti passed to the world beyond and Hiroshi assumed the reins of power. Peace continued for three more generations, and again our leader passed away. It was in the third triach of the rein of the next leader Mitsushi that the first and only occurrence of the shadowy beings was reported. A council of the wizards was hastily called in seclusion. Again little was told of the discussions, but our leader proclaimed that he (together with all other races) was to send forth four of their strongest apprentices, which included two of his own sons, the first and third born. They were to be raised to full wizard level and joined by a chosen few citizens to seek out the new homes of the shadowy beings, which were deemed to exist both beyond the edge of the world and into alternative realms. We knew that this was not to be a solo effort, with numerous races sending their strong out on parallel paths, seeking out these evil beings. And so began the quest of our leader Mitsushi the Third. Being sent out by sea, Mitsuishi's fleet soon reached the edge of the world. Yet here, where many had feared to go near, he boldly led his small fleet into the darkness of he void. Days went by sailing in the darkness, and yet there was no sound of waves or other liquid to sustain the ships nor any wind to propel it. Time seemed to be endless and brief at the same time. Hunger did not occur but hair grew as if months had passed. It was indeed a time of madness and despair, as many could not contain their minds and plunged overboard into the void. And still our leader held his heading firm. After what seemed like an eternity, light returned out of nowhere and soon they were sailing in water with wind. But the sky was strange and unknown. The depleted fleet was also in a poor state and all flyers were desperately sent out seeking land. It was several days before the one and only returned, barely reaching sight of our ships before he plunged into the seas. After he was recovered, he was able to guide the way to the grasslands he had seen in the distance to the west. The remaining ships set course for these lands but was engulfed by raging storms as it neared its goal, but progress was still made despite this hardship. And yet this progress was to prove disastrous as our ships hit hidden reefs offshore, crushing the weakened hulls easily. Fate allowed our leader reached the shore, but after all others were found he had only a few hundred of the 5000 followers that started the journey. And so they were led inland to start anew and build towards reaching their original goal, DEFEAT THE EVIL. Dear Seeker of Knowledge... we honor our leader Mitsushi, but his task is perhaps beyond to take upon himself totally at this time, having lost so many trusted advisors. And so we have established several bodies or "pillars" to aid in his duties. These are the "Red Pillars of War, Temple of Gold Pillars and Green Pillars of Growth." And herewith follow of basics of these Pillars. |
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Contact Mitsushi at wowgreg@yahoo.com
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The Ogres |
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Or a Short Study in the Importance of Being Ogrish |
In the next few moments you will read about some of the trials and tribulations, problems and hassles, woes and troubles of the ogre's daily life and livelihood. We all hoipe that it will prove instrumental in helping all wizards to avoid conflict with a peaceful but much maligned race. A set of beings with a gruff exterior, but a warm and loving heart
The Life of an Ogre is not the meaningless stereotype of wielding the odd tree branch for the sole purpose of crunch, munch, crunch. Even the average underling has more between the ears than is usually surmised. However, the way that this unfortunate impression has come about is perhaps an unfortunate loop of causality.
Ogres like to live their productive lives in the peace to which they are accustomed.....
This is not really a SURPRISE, is it?
Many people think Ogres are evil, rampaging beasts, out to crunch their bones to gnaw the marrow
when all they really want to do is farm, hunt and raise a family
These people try to destroy any poor, defenceless ogre family they come across
Without giving a thought to "Innocent until proven Guilty"
So, to avoid any possibility of such misconceptions resulting in mortality for them selves, most ogres have ascribed to the following plan:
Teach each other self defence.
Move on from merely choosing the nearest tree for a place to find a good weapon: Most ogres have heard of metal, after all, and a lump of metal hurts much more than a wooden club..... especially if it's sharp! Ogre blacksmiths, with their very own smithys are now an area of the economy that is growing strongly.
Give those that may be innocent the benefit of the doubt. In practise, a cry of "Run, Before I 'Urts Ya!" is considered sufficient warning. If they aren't planning to kill the good ogre (or ogress), then they will almost always take good advice when they hear it.
If the aforementioned warning fails to work, then the person involved is most likely GUILTY of wishing to harm an ogre- a crime in our society.
The punishment for wishing to harm an ogre is one of deliberate deterrence. The ogre who has issued the warning must, though it hurts his gentle nature and tears at his immortal soul, catch the offending being, tear his (or her) head off, remove the bones from the still-warm corpse and crack them open to suck the marrow.
This is something that many find hard to do, and is by no means a pleasant task. We much prefer mutton or beef. However, if beings persist in tormenting a gentle, funloving folk, then no wonder we feel forced to defend ourselves! Those who come into our presence in genuine friendship find warmth and loyalty, which lasts in eternal friendship. We have no need to quarrel with any that do not wish to quarrel with us. Our lands may be stark, but many would judge them beautiful, especially our capital of Sawtooth. We have much that could be traded or bartered, if only other nations would treat with us rather than treat us as monsters. While we love peace, we know from bitter experience the need for a strong deterrent force. Couple this with the fact that we recognise that we should aid our friends in all that we may, and you find us allies to be proud of.
Has this answered your questions on how important it is to be Ogrish? Can you draw parallels between the plight of us poor, peacefully defenceless mortals (well, excluding my good self, of course! Immortality is such a useful little side effect of our collective studies and incantations, don't you think?)and your own people's existence? Do you long to implement fair and just laws (like the ones outlined above), or even just allow the Ogres to live in peace and harmony with the denizens of your realm?
I truely hope that it has, and that you will be sending winged messengers and heralds towards me with messages of understanding and joy. This world is in a state of irretrievable development, and we now acknowledge that we must interact with outsiders and nonogres all. The main point of contention from my chieftans, is only the nature of that interaction, for we are mindful of the ogre's reputation for cunning savagery, and whilst we will do what is necessary, any possibility of avoiding the reinforcement of this graphic imagery will be commended within the ranks of my National Defence Force (commonly known as NoDufF for some bizarre and peculiarly Orgespecific reason that I for one have failed to fathom)
If you are able to see beyond the sterotype to the golden heart that lies within each ogre, then contact me, at
Contact Semblar the Great at danreed@blueyonder.co.uk
In the days after the great war, we searched for our bretheren, lost in an unknown land. We stumbled around until we found some nice pastures to call home. It is here we began to build ourselves a small town to live peacefully, eating what we can find, and taking the earth's precious stone, iron and mithril that we could find. And so for many years our people lived a quite and peaceful life.
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 in the lands around us but in the underworld and skies above. We wish to remain at peace but what are our small people to do as we are probably too near our warring neighbours. There are envoys, appearing out of nowhere, to our little town, with requests for peace, alliances or trade from both familiar beings and 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.
As the leader of our people, the wise and noble Geronimo of the Castor Fields, we shall stand true to the allies we chose, and hope that we can bring peace to the world 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 lands around us and stockpiling our resources for future needs.
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 resources into weapons of war.
And as even now we hear the echoes of distant sounds of war we prepare for the worst.
Geronimo (the elder)
Second Form
Contact Geronimo at bobpbem@yahoo.com
Player Page: http://www.jotajota.or g/rubito/home/index.html |
Contact Aeneas at jmaqua@wanadoo.es
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
Contact Dorlas at Philip.J.Robinson@btinternet.com
The black night was alive with the thrashings of a fierce tempest of a storm. Occasional lightening forks strobe-lit the village, producing strange phantoms of eerie shadow. The wind was a wild beast, rising off the ocean with a banshee wail to scrabble at the roofs of the huts in the wee community of Lachlan Spur. It screamed, as if in frustration at it’s inability to pry the lids off the stone walled buildings, then roared up the peninsula upon which the village sat, to scour the surrounding hillocks, before pouncing once again at the hapless hamlet. Planks creaked and ocean spray pattered in sheets across the partially completed, sprawling dock site that soon would launch great longships and myriad fishing skiffs, to be followed in the coming months by obese transports and frightening Man-o-wars. The only light in the bedraggled village came from around the edges of door and windows of the new tavern, it’s freshly painted sign "The Raven’s Rest" dancing wildly in the gusts. Tuar O’Caullaghain, more widely known as ‘the Shrike’, slowed in his pacing to gaze out into the storm and listen for the snatches of merriment from the tavern, sent his way on the capricious wind. "Where IS he?!" He muttered to himself. Three weeks had passed with no sign or word from his man, whom he had sent to the plains of Gabton to treat with their leader. Gabton, the city of the Plainsmen. That realm he had once held sway over. Many mistakes made there. Mistakes he would not repeat. Not here. Not with these people, his people… The missing messenger was the last of the diplomats that had been sent out when the Shrike took charge of the village. Already word had arrived from lands far beyond the small seaside village. The Shrike mentally ticked them off as he considered his goal of a worldwide alliance of noble wizards. Ithilnaur of the Icelanders, not well known to the Shrike, but known widely as a competent ruler, loyal friend and fearsome enemy. Alodar the Warrior Mage of the Amazons, sometime ally, sometime enemy of the Shrike. Always respected. Which way would circumstance blow the talented magician in this lifetime? Ordo Equestor, a recent friend from a different existence, now arising in the sands of Jaffna, a favoured and trusted companion of great power. Dorlas of the Dervishes, a mysterious warlock met long ago, in a far off land, unheard of from then until now. All had agreed to the Shrike’s call for alliance, war against the marauders in the island kingdoms and ultimately a great peace over the land. Word too had arrived from another immortal, Aeneas, who had won control of the lizardmen of ?. This wizard asked for trading and peace with the people of Lachlan Spur. Perhaps it was possible… Perhaps, if they kept to their Island and restrained themselves from their reaving ways… He waited yet too for news from the orc, minotaur and ogre pirates but expected none. The last of his scouts had headed out last night. They had gone forth to claim what land they could and make contact with the peoples of the other Immortals. He had confidence that they would hold to their sworn words and join him in ridding this world, his world, of the scourge of the pirate Immortals spreading mayhem across the seas and coastal lands. In the coming months, these brave scouts would be followed by forged steel and burnished armor, fearless rangers and silent agents, blistering magic and sharp mithril, glorious beasts and gory behemoths. All tasked to spread security and confidence across the land once again. Peace on the edge of our swords. A good motto. A motto for an alliance of guardians. And when the last of the evil Immortal’s heads were severed from their body, then he could rest. Rest and move on with the knowledge that he had finally done a good thing, perhaps. A hollow creak distracted the Shrike from his musings. A small wrinkled crone crept in with victuals for the master. She hurriedly set the platter down on the battered oak table, not meeting his eye. She dashed out, her speediness belying her age. And yet, she was the brave one, stepping in to bring his meal. Or perhaps she was merely the loser of the pulling of straws… His kinsmen called him Immortal. Respected but often feared or shunned, he was destined to rule. As a hawk is born to soar or a scorpion to sting, so his kind is born to rule, to build nations, to conquer cities and lay waste to empires. Athanon, Immortal, Fey, there are many names used to describe his kind. All know of them though less than a small town’s worth exist in the entire multiverse. His kind is as varied as the peoples they rule. Some are traders, seeking to build great, vibrant merchant empires, others are scholars, building great libraries and colleges whose sole purpose is only to increase the knowledge of the builder, more are monsters, megalomaniacs intent on land and power that even they must admit they can hold only fleetingly. A few, like the Shrike, are stewards, attempting to leave the places they briefly rule a little greater than whence they arrived. This particular existence held special significance for the Shrike. It was his birthworld and these highlanders of Lachlan Spur were his true kinsmen. He had left long ago and had only recently returned. None remembered him; of course, he had raised sheep and fought marauders with their far distant ancestors. Yet, it was home and he swore to put all he had learned in his travels and travails to use in raising his kinsmen up as the proud race they once were. His thoughts are disturbed once again, this time by a sharp rap upon the door. "Enter." The Shrike commands. The oaken door swings creaking on its hinges to reveal a braver subject this time. Tall, lightly bearded in wispy blonde hair, the stranger’s garments and hair spoke of a long trip through the lashing storm without. "I know you not, brave sir. Why do you seek me in these dire times?", queried the Shrike. "My name is Turrig Oth Umbra. I heard you bring talk of taking back what once was our Highlander land. I heard also you are recruiting scouts. I’m the man you want.", said the young highlander boldly. "Hmmm…. Yes, yes you are a man I seek, but not foe mere scouting. You I have larger designs for. You shall by my eye, my ear, my senses, but not my voice. Return on the morrow for instruction. For now, enjoy yourself in yonder tavern for you will not have many chances to quaff ale and chase wenches after tomorrow." And with that, he tossed bold Turrig a gold coin in dismissal.
Contact Shrike at creggec@telusplanet.net
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