PLAYER BLURBS.
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WELCOME,FELLOW WIZARDS!
We Dwarfses are not a folk to do much of a magik.
Not at all!
Living in our caves we care more for mining. And digging for the ores the gods have hidden there
deeply set into the stones, for us to find, to purify with fire and heat,
melt into the purest metals seen in all the realms.
No other Axe will be everly so sharp asis ourses.
No Shield gleams morely, almost on ist own, be it now silver, iron, or even mithril.
But magiks,?? NO!
With bodies, once formed of the stones,that are now our shelters, homes, playground and last resort,
we do not seem to properly "lead" the flows of magic.
Or so I was told,by someone who knows better.
He was born of need.
Born of the need to form a strong and hardy unity.
To collect all Clan under one comand,one rule.
Selfish and split up as the Under Dwarven Clans were, they deemed vulnerable.
To the Chaos minions sent by the Son of the Firegods, ARRAGOTH.
There was Need .
Greater need than there had ever been before.
And ,allthough not many liked to admit it, there was need for magik,strong magik.
Not one of the Dwarfses could possibly wield the needed amount of the holy energy.
But once, many millenia ago, there existed a hero, in the times when Arragoth was strong ,
who had the might,the will, the knowledge to do as was needed.
,slayn by Arragoth himself.
So the priests formed a statue,made of Gold and Mithril, gleaming and with shining eyes of diamant,
to hold the soul of Banta Rhey,to form a place where the very essence of the long dead hero
could find its place in this world again.
He would not be able to move,or fight, but that was not what he was there to do.
Fight was the one thing every little Stoneling could do after his fith Naming Day.
No, to guide and teach, give clues and hints,this was his dedication.
To do the magik needet to overcome the thereat,
delivered by the Son of the Firegods and his Lava Legions.
Standing on the caves highest point,overlooking most of the Blackrock Caves,
Arbat thought to himself,unconciously murmuring:
"We will not yield to superior force, never!"
He whirled and strode back into the castle,
the links on his double weaved Mithrilchainmail clinking softly as he passed the guards.
Part one
in
spring; year 1
Not aīll was well and good, in Arbats opinion.
Preparations for the advance into unknopwn teritory were finished, a nervous,but
optimistic group of Stonebiters with spears and shields almost on march.
So far so good.
But:
Banta Rhey had not shown any singns of displeasure,allthough he did not react as
predicted. In legends of old he was described calm and tolerating, hardly ever exited.
But in theese past few weeks but, not only one guard told of grumbling noise,strange
voices,seemingly in dispute with eachothers. And different voices had been reported.
Even the grunts and sniffs of animals.This could not be the Rhey of old, never.
Disturbing was also an incident that occured some three days ago
when black smoke covered all the marble floor in the Crown Hall.
Not harming in any way it seemd,but disturbingly strang in any case.
Confronted with this informations, the Highpriest and his
High Council of Honors
monitored the ghost inhabiting the huge statue and found out there
was not only one spirit inhabiting the Monument, but seven.
One ,the strongest by far was in fact Banta Rhey. But tere was more
A jaguar or some other kind of feline animal, a female child, human,
some sort of imp,or demon,
Gotborg Orebasher,a legendary Orcslayer, fierce and full of rage in his times,
famous for his fight against three hands of Orcs an Westgap,
and three more souls,not identified yet.
One of theese seemed to be sleeping all the time,and weak thou.
But nobody knew how strong it could become once it woke.
An endless fight for dominance seemed to take place inside the metallic hull.
Allthough not able to move physically, still great power could be wielded by the
artificial wizard. Arcane powers could be formed and sent , to take effect on
dwarf and cave, weapon and food.
The Rhey was known to be good, hence chosen in the beginning.
Great dangers arise now,should he loose the fight for controll over
the animated Statue. An imp cold endanger guards with his small but nasty tricks
and nobody knew hat the unknown spirits would do, once awake.
The problem was to know the diference.What The Statue ordered had to be
followed. And nobody could tell the difference ef the origin. You could deduce,
but never know. Once in charge,a dwarfen "king" could only be desposed of, resign or die.
The later two were not very likely,and the first in the current situation unthinkable.
We had to wait and see.
Part two
in
high spring; year 1
It became worse every day. It seemed that the strongwilled hero of old
lost ground every day now.
The sleeping force roamed and moved withe increacing might.
Shreeks of pain had been heard during some nights by the honor guard,
brave dwafes all, but frightened to the bones then.
On a meeting today ,Banta Rhey appeared nervous and intolerant, sometimes
Absentminded.
After a short and futile discussion he ordered all Attendants and guards out,
and Hutknil in. Confronted with the fact that Hutknil Porter was a guilty prisoner,
accused and found guilty of many crimes, theft being the worst, but also beardlessness,
drunkenness in church and other grave crimes, Rhey slipped into a rage, bellowing
,"Huti" has to be freed immediately, his chains broken and never to be used again.
The fury lasted for hour and hours, making hardsotten Warriors tremble in fear.
Two bronce vases were found shattered lateron, out of pure force,
gobelins torn and tables and chairs broken ,blated to the very far corners of the hall.
The temperature ofthe room also had risen considerably, leaving a faint smell of sulfur.
"Hardobrant Pickaxe" murmured some thing into his good sized beard about remembering
that smell from his youth when he claimed to have battled a dragon once.
Nobody sane believed him thouh.
Contact Banta Rhey at drachen90@hotmail.com
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Contact Morgana at ylball@cs.com
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Contact Ozone_King at ozone_ram@hotmail.com
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Contact Nameless Wizard at skullgrey1577210@aol.com
"Commander,commander
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"Commander,commander!",came the call from the other side of the tent camp, which was well hidden under a thicket of small trees. Sergeo,a little and very skinny guy, almost still a boy despite his fifteen years, came running between the tents, almost stumbling over the ropes that could be like traps for the unwary or hasty. He wore a ragged lether vest that seemed to be tailored for a man twice his size and brown breeches, worn out and whith patches almost everywhere. Fastened on his belt was a plain swordhilt which contained a well used shortsword. Arriving with a full stop, Sergeo took some moments to catch breath and gather himself. He was usually easily excited,but the news he had to deliver seemd out of the ordinary,deducing from his red face and wide opened eyes, his panting not slowing a little, despite his perfect condition. "Comander,there is a delegation from GRANOLA,from the CalrasīCan themselves.They want to see you immediately,by the hour! You have been ordered before the council. What can they possibly want,...?" The CalrasīCan was the council of Clanciefs, seven by numberand most of them definitely wanted nothing to do with Sundancer ,some of them even hated him close to a feud. Allthough none of īem matched him in personal combat, much harm could be done, if food suply or trade partners could be drained, for him and his men to suffer. It was very unusual that the clanchiefs were meeting alltogether, and even more so was a calling for him to appear. The delegation consisted of a scribe, five warriors of various clans and Horton, Underchief of the Rain Valley Sept. With a broard smile on his plump face Horton embraced Sundancer heartily. They knew eachother from childhood on and had been close friends since then. Circumstance had seperated them years ago, but that had changed nothing as far as it concearned their lifelong friendship. "It is good to see you again! What a ragtag lot of folk you are the leader of! And you smell like a bear. I canīt take you to the council as you are!" Horton had always been direct,sometimes rude,but you allways knew where you stood, he was honest to the bone. "They will have to take me as I am," Sundancer replied, "As it has allways been,and allways will,if they like it or not. You know this false beaviour and arrogance have been the main reason for what happened then.This waas why I quit, and for the better of it.I prefere to be leader of a bunch of mercenaries, than to sit in council for endless hours with false smiles and badly hidden animosities,and no outcome of any important matter. I prefere Sergeo here, and Nicklas and Hurrass.They may not be nobly born,but I can rely on them, trust them with my life, specially when things get rough." Looking at the welltrained body of his childhood friend, he added. "You must have been riding like hell, sweaty as you are! Mayby we should take a bath together, ant talk things out there." By the wry looks of the surrounding soldiers they didnīt like the very idea to leave their commanders on their own,but when they were ordered to unsaddle their horses and build camp apart from the mercenary camp, they obeyed without hesitation. Surely most of them were spys of several fractions of the CalrasīCan ,but good soldiers followed when ordered, and none wanted to give up the pretence of loyalty. "If it were not you , I would not have taken the order, but as things are,i had no choice anyways!" Sitting in a natural basin of the nearby river, fed by hot springs, an effect of the nearby Volcanic Region, Horton explained the details of the stupefying news. "They want me as their warleader, me?? They hate me, chase me,some of them despise my freedom, but all of them at least donīt like me. After the duell when I had to kill his second son , Alfgar almost succeded with this Assasin he hired to get my hide. And now they ORDER me to be their Warleader!" Grabbing a fistsized stone, he hurled it as far as he could downriver,were it landed with a splash. "It was not their decision,at least they had no other coice. The Shamans left them none. They spoke with the ancestors, three times because even they could, or would not belive it. You are the only one possible. Only old Miltrim your granduncle has the Spark stronger than you do. Being well over eighty years he is no coice as Warleader anymore, despite his sickness. You know that he forgets almost as fast as you can tell him. They have no choices and they know it very well. They havenīt sent me for nothing! They know we are friends. What they dont know is where my loyalty lies. Your way would not have been mine,true, but as things are, my honor and guilt demand my loyality to you! If you should become Warchief." Smiling Sergeo regarded Sundancers absent face. Being drawn into his own world of thoughts, Sundancer had not heard dthe last remark, but he knew it anyway. What bothered him was the thing with the Spark. He feared magic, disliked it and mistrusted it. Magic was addictive, magic had taken his father, and indirectly also his mother, who followed his fater into death by custom. He had suffered too much in his life because of the magic that was so strong in his family. And now he would have to follow ist path like his father had. He knew it, allthough he did not want to admit it. Deep within his heart he knew for certain, knew the truth of it. And he realised that maybe he would also fall into the silent, addictive wisper of the dark side of wizardry. The souls of his parents already wispered in the back of his head, calling him, demanding attention. He had seen death countless times,killed many a man (and woman, by the way), but to deal with death,to make it undone,sent shiveres down his spine. But inescapable he would have to face the truth of his herity.
Sundancer cauteously neared the small,ruined fishing hut. Allthough he did not believe in a trap, experience and a life of fighting and danger had learned him to be allways cauteous. Today he was about to meet again with an old friend of His he had not seen for years. Not a reputable person in the opinion of his council "friends". Iron Mikal was a pirate. One of the greatest capitains kown and feared in the seas surrounding the granolan peninsula. Or better he had been roaming the sea. Now he lacked the most important part of piratry,a ship. And a crew, a,nd weapons, ... All in all he lacked almost everything an active pirate needed, except of himself and his considerable skills. Spreading a wide grin over his sun darkened face, the huge Pirate stepped out of the shacs shadow to embrace the not so small Warleader, almost overwhelming him with his bulk. Allthough huge in size, fearless in battle, he had the mood of an innocent child. Not that he could not fight,or even kill, the profession as a pirate afforded this sometimes, but he prefered coups that harmed only merchants in financial ways. After the first few sentences of their talk, Sundancer knew he would Get what he had come for. The aid and help of another trusted friend, a kind of hero in many of the fishing villages, an allly to be accounted.
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Contact Sundancer at tinomikosch@hotmail.com
Contact Exodus at njacksond@hotmail.com
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Contact Nameless Wizard at stephen_2069@hotmail.com
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Contact Blazin' at rboozer@csrlink.net
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Contact Nameless Wizard at mrseasoninsalt@hotmail.com
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Contact Nameless Wizard at lordspun@hotmail.com
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Contact Darik at montebox@sbcglobal.net
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Contact Nameless Wizard at cowspots49@hotmail.com
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