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The Polar bear Clan is living proof that fortune favors the mortal man. The
Polar Bear never admit defeat, no matter what foe they face. They
tenaciously cling to everything that is theirs, refusing to surrender and
expanding their holdings through the sheer determination of their warrior.
Outcasts from the dawn of the Empire, the clan's founder Kaimetsu-uo was
forced to forge his own destiny, purchased with his own blood and sweat.
With only a handful of followers, he traveled to the remote Himalayak, and
formed his own band of warriors, the Polar Bear Clan.
Throughout history, the Polar Bear have played a number of roles. They have
been heroes, defending the against Arrogoth's evil attackers during The
Battle of the Raging Seas. They have also been villians, such as when Gusai
Rioshida attempted to overthrow the Emperor and claim Ice Realm for himself.
For the most, they have simply remained unseen, trading with various clans
and accumulating great wealth with their knowledge of the seas around
Ice Realm.
During the Clan War, Yoritomo led the Polar Bear into battle. Bitter over
centuries of treatment as lesser men, the Polar Bear unleashed their anger
against the Shadowlands in a determined effort to prove their worth to the
Empire. Against all odds, the gambit succeeded and the Polar Bear became a
Great Clan
In the time of the Oni Lord Akuma, the forces of Jigoku made a special point
of weakening each of the great clans from within in various ways. The Crab
found the Kuni family divided with corruption. The Crane found their
finances steadily drained. The Dragon were assailed with confusing and
contradictory prophecies, preventing them from taking action. The Lion were
contained physically by the brute force of the Oni Lord's Armies. The
Scorpion were betrayed from within by the Yogo. The Unicorn found themselves
facing the dark spectre of the Moto, and divided themselves from the other
clans to finish their personal vendetta. Akuma rejoiced that the descendants
of the kami were left divided and weak, unable to resist him at full power.
But in all of his plans, Akuma never considered the Polar Bear.
Their humble origins and tendency to inspire distrust and derision from the
other Great Clans led Akuma to think the Polar Bear a worthless and weak
foe. No
special effort was made to undermine their power or destroy them from within
as in the case of the other clans. Akuma never bargained upon the
charismatic leadership and tactical savvy of Yoritomo Kenjin, who rallied
the clans and pronounced himself Emperor Yoritomo I. Even after Akuma
arranged for the new Emperor's death, he was quickly replaced by his son,
Hideki, who became Yoritomo II and proved to be an even greater leader than
his father. Soon the Dragon emerged from their hiding with the Fire Dragon
bombs. Akuma's army was struck a great blow and, with Yoritomo II's
leadership, the armies of Jigoku were swiftly and soundly defeated.
For almost a century now the Yoritomo Dynasty has ruled the Diamond Empire.
Though many things have changed under Polar Bear rule, the people of Ice
Realm are
safe and happy. The Emperor is greatly loved by his people. The activities
of the royal family are watched with great attention by the common people of
Ice Realm, and many peasants and samurai alike live vicariously through the
accomplishments of the Polar Bear families.
But a black shadow hangs over this seemingly peaceful clan. A horrible curse
lingers in the Yoritomo family, a curse that many believe is destined to one
day destroy the Imperial Line. Yoritomo VI seems to be quickly slipping down
the path to destructive violence. His son Prince Kameru is brash, but much
less so than his father. He will likely be a much better Emperor, but few
fatalists feel Kameru's capability to rule may be a moot point. If Ice Realm
cannot survive Yoritomo VI, Kameru will never have a chance to rule.
Families of the Polar Bear
The Yoritomo Family are the largest family of the Polar Bear. These days
they
seem evenly split between those who choose to defend the Imperial line
through force of arms, or through guile and politics. Most members of the
Yoritomo family can trace their relation to the Emperor no matter how
distant, and have a clear view of the line of succession at all times. They
area hot-blooded family, driven toward proving themselves in all things.
Their leader, of course, is Yoritomo VI, Son of Storms, Emperor of Ice
Realm.
The Ranbe Family are closely related to the Yoritomo. They trace their
bloodline to Osano-wo, and feel the power of the Thunderer in their genes.
They are a family of powerful shugenja, making up for their lack of subtlety
and with pure, raw power. The very same lack of introspection has left their
own studies of magic on the lean side. The Ranbe have no shugenja school on
their own, though their ties to the Emperor make them welcome in nearly
every shugenja school in the Empire. Their current daimyo is Ranbe Yuya, an
eccentric old woman famous for her staff of office, the Shard of the
Thunderer. Supposedly it is a fragment of a tree that Osano-wo once
shattered with lightning when, in a moment of doubt, she demanded that the
Fortune prove her power. She must now carry the staff with her wherever she
goes. The oaken stick crackles constantly with a blue nimbus of electricity
that does no apparent harm to Yuya.
The Daikua Family seem not to have been affected much by their clan's sudden
rise to power. They are still relatively "common" for a samurai family,
carrying on the clan's traditions of merchantry, sailing, and a bit of
piracy on the side. The Daikua are also skilled diplomats and litigators, a
skill that comes in very handy when some of their more flamboyant relatives
get themselves into trouble. Their current daimyo is Daikua Dokohutei, a
grizzled old former pirate who has settled down into a life of politics. He
has found that the life of a politician suits him just fine, though it is a
bit cutthroat for his tastes.
Contact Togashi at armando_rodriguez_jr@hotmail.com
New Page 1
Extracts from the Sashna Gazette gossip column
?In The Realm of Ordo Equester
Overheard
in the castle kitchens of Sashna city:
The rattle of cups of soured camel's
milk echoes around the empty kitchen, as the night's meals
are done and cleared, and exhausted staff sit to ponder what
the next day will bring;
"I heard it said that our new master
was once a grand wizard in far off lands"
"So
what's 'ez a duin' 'ere then?"
"Well, it's said that he was in a
Grand Alliance of Wizards that fought the Son of Arragoth,
the Fire God!"
"Ain't
'eard of no Fire God !"
"Well there is one see, and having
beaten the other wizards who fought against the Grand
Alliance, he set about destroying the Son of Arragoth?"
"Seem
t'me that non'll be the sense in picking fights with
Gods. Bloomin' daft if'n you's ask me."
"Well, nobody was asking you, was
they?. So are you gonna listen to the story or what?"
"Can't
says I'vn a better place t'be, an' t'ale's nun so
bad. Carry on woman."
"Well, as I heard it, it seems that
our master had a mishap when casting a spell to rid the
world of this demi-God, and the entire land was laid waste
while he was cast into some nether world to reappear in a
rainbow of dancing lights in a Gnomish city on Shadowmoth,
to be hailed as their saviour."
"B'aint
no time fer Gnomes, little blighters meddle ?."
"I shall not say another word if you
keep interrupting?!."
"Darn
if I'zl finish me pot o' ale n' lizen awhile?."
"There's more in the telling of
these tales than meets the ear of mere peasants like us. I
heard that Lord Ordo has been to many lands and has learnt
many ways of old. Maybe he has the magic to get a day's
work out of old scoundrels like you?!!
"Pah!. Me pots a empty, an b'aint no time for
bletherin', I'z orf!"
Overheard
in the castle guardhouse of Sashna city:
As the sun rises on the new year, the
sharpening of pitchforks makes many a tooth shudder.
"My cousin, who married a highlander
merchant these seven years past, has said that a star fell
from the heavens and crashed into the sea of water far from
the shores."
"I heard that rumour too!. The wife says that is an
omen that great chaos is about to come to Sashna, and we
should stick to the sea of sand, as it is our haven."
"Nah, the talk I've heard is that
it was the sign for the land of Sashna to grow strong, with
the power of the fallen star to aid it. Why else would we be
preparing for a long march "
"But, what about the old tales of dark islands
far out beyond where the sea of water ends to the eye
- my gran used to tell me stories of the monsters
that live there, out the fear of all evil into me it did."
"Old wives tales are for children!.
I've seen the plans of the new barracks and a blacksmith
where Lord Ordo wants weapons made. You mark my words, we
shall be marching soon!."
"Maybe that is a good sign, for too long we have
been blamed for the attacks of robbers and thieves ? 'It
must be those dirty Sand People' ? a few beatings will
sort out our neighbours!"
"No, no, no!. There's a new sign to
hang in the Barracks, the painter told me, its to
say 'SECURITY THROUGH STRENGTH, PEACE THROUGH
SECURITY, HONOUR THROUGH PEACE'. Lord Ordo is not about
conquering neighbours, but providing a secure land which we
can trade through. You've seen the gems that lie about the
dunes, so many that the children play with them, well
there's many a neighbour would trade richly for such as
those."
Overheard
in the Chancellor's chambers in Sashna city:
The rotund figure of the Chancellor of
Sashna easily fills his chair, with seemingly a piece of him
protruding through every gap. His tears leave streaks down
his face, and he raps a halting rythmn on the desk with both
of his massive hands, making the quills dance around the ink
well like rabid puppets:.
"Damn, damn and double damn!. Lord
Ordo is mad!. Mad I say!. How many times must I tell him
that taxes are for bolstering the treasury". A stong city
has a bulging hoard, with peasants who pay their dues
without a murmur.
To spend as he would. The buildings, the soldiers!.
The city will be bankrupt inside a year!. He does not know
the peasants like I do, give them a tavern, and they will be
drunk all day!. Who will tend the flocks, who will scour the
sands for brittle firewood?. He will rue the day, and who
will he turn to when all is in decay?. Me!."
The knock on the door startles the
Chancellor, and before he can rise (a difficult enough feat
given time, let alone in a hurry), the doorway is filled
with militiamen.
"My Lord Ordo bids his chancellor
welcome, and offers his solution to all your concerns, "
booms the Sargeant at Arms. "A new Chancellor has been
appointed, and your reward for years of devotion to the
comforts of the City Treasury and its keepers, is by Royal
Appointment to the post of Flock Tenderer and Gatherer of
Firewood.
Understanding the value you place on
taxes, you shall be graced with paying double the levy of
the common man as demonstration of your love for your
City."
Stop
Press entries to the Editor of the Sashna Gazzette
Two items of breaking news:
1)
The contracts have been placed for local labour to
build a splendid tavern, to be known as the 'Oasis of
Sashna' the first pints are expected to be drawn within
the month!
2)
The City assembly was stunned and then cheered when
Lord Ordo announced a tax holiday to celebrate the new year.
No dissenting voices were raised, but a faint wailing was
heard from the direction of the sheep pens.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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Scottish Courage Brewing Limited
Registered in Scotland, Registered Number 65525
Registered Office: 33, Ellersly Road, Edinburgh, EH12 6HX
Head Office: 2-4 Broadway Park, South Gyle, Edinburgh EH12 9JZ
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Contact Ordo Equester at darrell.lias@tiscali.co.uk
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
Contact Hazaar at henson111@msn.com
An Elven Search for Viagra
A fine grey mist sifted through the massive trees of the dark forest,
blotting out the evening shadows and enshrouding the Orcs in a tomb-like
darkness, masking their great hulking forms and the noise of their passing
as they silently raced along the root-torn paths toward the agreed meeting
place.
Nearly a hand taller than the greatest Orc, Gholan led the small party
flawlessly to a superior crest near the opening in the seemingly endless
forest, and motioned for scouts to drift away into utter darkness. Beloved
and feared leader of the Orcs, Gholan silently cursed the
Gods again under his breath for once again toying with him by finally
agreeing to send him back to the Isles of Arragoth to search for his
beloved, only to rip away any hope of success by sending only a band of
fifty Orcs with him. He had amassed an army of well over twenty thousand,
comprised mainly of Arachian Black Dragons, captured painfully and with huge
losses, peons though they were, and mixed with a few Dark Lords, captured
with the darkest of magic, only to see them vanish as grains of salt in a
whirlwind, while only a few loyal grunts slipped thru the portal to this
accursed world with him.
He peered though the thick veins of mist, drinking in the beloved darkness,
his sharp eyes detecting movement on the far side of the glade long before
anyone else turned a well-trained eye in that direction. He actually could
smell the High Elves before the saw them, a somewhat "clean" odor, dappled
with fear amongst a few, but not the leadership. There indeed was the
Superior Legat, Arrathorn, and his entire High Council, with a pitiful few
Noble Heart Bowmen for protection. What fools! They must be desperate
indeed, besieged endlessly by army after army of Blue Lava Legions, spewing
forth from the ground like ants in a boiling roil, to trust the Orcs for
salvation enough to come this far from the Castle with this paltry
accompianent.
Gholan the Conqueror,
son of Noc'tac the Beheader, son of Arctun the Merciless, Leader and Lord of
the Orcs, smiled a wicked smile, a smile that would make Death itself shrink
back in the icy grip of fear. He thought back over the many campaigns he
had fought on other worlds, Crynn, Merrigon, and the like. He remembered
how he had always twisted certain defeat, certain death, into victory, to
the constant unremitting consternation of the Gods. No matter how they
tried to intervene, to snatch victory from him, to start him in a new world
with nothing, or in blasted sunshine, laughing at his newest predicament,
betting how long he would last this time, he had always lived to see the
smiles drop from their faces, lived to shake his defiant fist at them one
more time.
And now this, a surely mortal blow to drop him into the pits of hell with
half a hundred warriors, when he needed thousands, no, legions, to survive.
But even at this early state, Gholan could already imagine
invisible wisps of doubt blow across the WOW Gods' faces, as they surveyed
yet another unexpected and probable escape from certain death engineered by
Gholan in the form of
the foolish Elves wandering about in the darkness, a warm blanket to the
Orcs. Whom else could have convinced the ENTIRE ruling Council of the High
Elves on such a mission, a plea, better, a ploy to join forces and fight
Arragoth's minions, as if Gholan could actually give a
damn.
The loathed and feared, but highly regarded Legions of the mighty Arragoth
could burn the whole world for all Gholan cared, they could
roast every Elf on the Isle, and he would help baste them, if they asked.
He came here once again for one reason, and just one, and he would destroy
any living, and dead, for that matter, that got in his way. The Lady
Viagra.
An Amazon, actually, and an Assasin of unequaled skill, he had met her here
on the Isles of Arragoth, so many months ago. He paused in his
reconnaisance, as he savored the memory of their first meeting. She, in the
moonlight, standing over another kill, smattered in dripping blood, her
raven hair, glacier-blue eyes, firing twin lasers of death to any who would
challenge her, heaving and quite ample-- he remembered with a devilish
smile-- chest, sparingly covered in dark-fired mithril, her long, well toned
legs, awash with small rivulets of blood streaming down her lovely thighs
from the spurting neck wound of her victim---what an erotic sight!!!
It had been love, truly at first meeting. He couldn't decide whether it was
the bosom or the blood that won him, but he had never been the same after
that chance encounter. After that, they had been inseparable, enjoying one
after another fine crimson slaughter, and were to be wed, as the end of the
Campaign was finished, with Arragoth's head presented to her, the Ring in
his teeth, to announce the engagement.
But, it was not to be. He tightened his grip on his sword as he watched the
Elves set up camp, and send scouts out to patrol. Ha! They would never
return. He remembered the morning when his own scouts reported in to him,
bearing the dreadful news of the capture of the Lady by Arragoth's minions,
to be used as a bargaining chip, as Gholan had begun making
serious advances on Arragoth. He never saw her again, and even as his Blade
eventually gently caressed the neck of Arragoth, before his beheading,
Arragoth still never revealed the whereabouts of Lady Viagra, only that to
torture Gholan until
the end of his days, he would not kill her, but keep her alive and away from
him, so that Gholan
might search forever for his bethrothed, and never know peace. He had then
killed Arragoth quite messily, even for him.
A quiet rage began to build in him, as his memories bubbled once again to
the surface, brought forth in greater strength by the renewed smells and
familiar surroundings. He waited though, even with the Bloodlust filling
him, until his scouts returned, bearing the pointy ears of the Elven scouts.
Then he raised his great Mithril axe, and screamed a fury that would bring
dread to a dozen Arachian Dragons, and charged from the trees with his
motley crew, easily overwhelming the hapless Heart Bowmen, who could hit
nothing in the darkness surrounding them, except other Elves, strangely
enough. They died quickly, and rather efficiently, leaving just the High
Council, and of course Arrathorn, in a tight circle.
They would have protested, and threatened, but they were quite intelligent,
despite the profound stupidity of this particular gamble, and fully realized
they had just traded away their kingdom to a squad of Orcs with a clever
leader, and would now be held hostage, while an interloper assumed the High
Seat of the Council, controlled their formidable army, while Gholan the Conqueror became
King of the High Elves.
The WOW Gods simply shook their heads in amazement, and glided away from the
Scrying Bowl. Maybe next time.
Contact Gholan the Conqueror at magneto821@aol.com
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
Contact The Shadow at djones@bbnow.net
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
Contact Chaos+ at jesper@largedesign.com
Blurb262b
City of Dartnil,
February of Year One
Who had told me that I would find
a nice town down here, with taverns, churches, wall, wells and especially
a nice, big comfortable castle, all deserted by its former owner, who
decided to leave this underground city and go for a more adventurous life
in a more interesting place? Arragoth and in his company hundreds of lava
guards and other monsters seem to have come back since, but where is the
comfortable castle, the well-built town? Strolling angrily through the
ugly and dirty so-called throne-hall of my new castle, I wondered whether
more wizards felt just the way I did. What had I found? Nothing but a bunch
of shy dark-elven peasants, hardly showing any reference to their new
mistress
and her suite. Inside the heap of stones which might have formed the castle
in former times fifty men dressed in rags awaited me my new army.
Damn! I really should have known better. In
these worlds of mystery and magic you hardly ever could find real luxury
and treasuries, and, more important, you always had to start anew, even
if you thought that you already knew the world you chose for yourself
from the stories other wizards told you or perhaps even from what you saw
there yourself, the world you entered always was empty again, all what
had been built up by former generations of busy wizards was gone.
How was this possible? I already had tried all sort of magic against
illusions I could remember but in vain, the castle didnt swap back to
the impressive fortress it must have been under the reign of its last
master.
I had formed archaeological expeditions, ordering my soldiers to dig
for any kind of weapon where once a battle had taken place or hewed stones
wherethe most impressive building of all had been erected : the Pyramid
of Power. I never found even the slightest hint of the glorious history
the place must have had. What about the stories I heard about glorious
conquests
and destroyed capitals? It was the same all again: whether you chose to rule
a people with a glorious past or a people who had been defeated and trampled
to the ground, again and again you found yourself in the same old dirty
heap of stones, wondering whether it was more important to get fresh water
into the castle or the rubbish of fifty filthy men out of it. Or had all
these wise and level-headed Lords, the former masters of all these famous
capitals lived a common dream, a nightmare in some cases?
I took a deep breath and started my new career as an architect,
builder,instructor, tax-inspector, recruiting officer, teacher, and
a dozen more professions by calling for more candles and a broom first.
My advisor entered in a hurry, and told me
after a deep bow:
"Mylady, a hero has arrived in the courtyard and
wishes to enter your service!"
I cheered up and told her:
"Finally good news! Give him whatever
he asks for and ask him to present himself to me...well, send two or
three of my soldiers up here first to do some cleaning-up!"
"Mylady, I am afraid that will be impossible." She said,
looking at me her front in deep furrows like a basset.
"Why that, isn't he worth to be hired? Or are all these soldiers
too drunk to do the job of a housemaid?" I asked, feeling more and
more confused.
"No, Mylady, he's well worth it, the problem is that there isn't
enough money left to pay him after you ordered to construct the most
necessary buildings to influence the population here in your
favour."
"What does he want, the impudent? Half a million gold coins?"
"No, Mylady. Not that much. Less than 2000."
"That's a not too much for anyone but an admiral or a pirate.
So why don't you give the money to him?"
"I am so sorry, but we don't even have 1000 gold coins left."
my advisor answered with a trembling voice."
"..... Eheem....Not even 1000? You never stole from me... did
anybody else here dare to touch my treasury?"
"No, Mylady, there's simply nothing worth being called a treasury.
I am so sorry."
"Stop apologizing! What about my jewels?"
"There's nobody who could afford to buy them in this rat-hole...ehemm,
your capital, Mylady. And the hero himself - I never would dare to offer
them to him...simply have a look at him through the window, and you'll
understand."
I decided to believe what she said for the moment and looked for
another solution. "Raise the taxes!"
"Mylady, your people will hate you for it and might stop working...it's
too soon to raise taxes, you need to impress them with arenas, cathedrals
and all this stuff first."
I knew this problem, it was the same everywhere, every time, but
I somehow had hoped that time at least the peasants would be more reasonable
and would see the need to give me all they could afford right from the
start. Wasn't it for the benefit of them all, of their children?
"Go steal it from our neighbours, send an army and rob it somewhere!"
I made a last attempt. My advisor didn't even answer, she only looked
at me sadly. To steal without an experienced thief, to steal it from someone
who surely swore at his empty treasury just the way I did, to plan a robbery
when I didn't even know the way to the next castle was no way to solve
this situation. Both of us grew dumb. After a long while, my advisor cleared
her throat.
"May I suggest something quite ... experimental?"
"Of course." I replied without much hope.
"There's a competition of a publishing house here in Arragoth....they
seem willing to pay up to 2000 gold coins for interesting stories. I might
order your scribe to send them a story of your glorious past...".
"A publishing house? Somewhere here in this wilderness? Are you
sure that the person who told you that didn't want to dupe you? Or perhaps
it's a new attempt of our foes to spy us out?"
"Mylady, even if this is true, we may as well rather fool them
with this story than tell them anything valuable about us. What can you
lose by making an attempt!"?
You're right indeed." I said taking a deep breath.
"You're
sure that they - whoever they are - will give us 2000 coins for a story?
What a beginning for my career as a warlord and wizard here in this
world...to
start as an author! How disgustingly peaceful!"
"Mylady" she replied with a soft voice
"Come to the window
and look down at this hero. I think he's worth that we choose even very
unconventional methods to make sure that he serves you."
I did what she had asked me to do and knew at once that she was
right.
Contact Shuri the huntress at anja.heller-kemp@t-online.de
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
Contact Dimlùr at fklev@online.no
Seems an eternity since I last experienced
this strange feeling of deja vu (or deja clone), but quite definitely another
loop of that 'clone self' spell has taken hold again - wonder were I'll
find myself this time... Some day I'll have to figure out the proper use
of that personal pronoun for a clone like me {me?} but for now I'll have
to make do with 'I' since I'm {I?} am not in a philosophical mood today
- come to think of it, I feel in quite an uneasy mood actually... *grmph*
Never a good sign, that is...
Let me see if I can pick up some particularly
super-deja-vued vibrations from this place - in that case a clonecarnation
of mine has probably been here before and it is always fun to be able to
play the role of all-knowing, all-seeing wizard in front of the awed locals
(whoever they may be this time), not to mention the added statue [cursed
be those Freudian slips, I meant stature of course] it gives you...
Let's try the spell 'scan 42 zillion clonecarnations
for clues' and see if it can offer any clue as to where I might be this
time - hmm, ahh yes, now I do get a very vivid impression of a scene;
Hmm, there is another feeling around here
which I do not feel like liking - in fact I feel that what I feel is the
strongest possible dislike, for... for... something...
AARGHH !!!
I AM IN THE UNDERWORLD !!!
HELP !!!
Just take it easy, Alodar, don't panic, take
a DEEP breath and practice the relaxation technique you learnt on the planet
Wumpus 7 zillion clonecarnations ago...
[*splat*]
(Oh drat, I THOUGHT that was a relaxation
technique, not a laxation technique!)
Well, what about this one I learnt on the
planet Asphyxia somewhat later, or was it earlier... Or was it Asphyxia
at all, maybe it was somewhere else...
Ahh, it worked - it made me completely forget
my claustrophobia! My WHAT-
*AARGHH* !!!!!
*I AM IN THE UNDERWORLD* !!!!!
*HELP* !!!!!
[Frantically trying to remember how to cast
the spell 'relieve utter panic' and in even utterer panic realising that
it had completely vanished from memory]
Never mind, I can't take this a second longer,
ANY spell will have to do - *BLURB!*
Whew - it seems to have helped a little, now
I can sort of watch myself from the outside and I see a highly renowned
wizard struggling to overcome a severe phobia of some kind - indeed, it
would be strange if a master wizard couldn't simply cast away a phobia
using magic...
Wait a minute, there was something about a
logical paradox about a barber who shaves everyone who doesn't shave himself,
but who shaves the barber then? Maybe my (hey, I am a clone! It cannot
be only mine!) predicament is of a similar nature...
Anyway, I'd better get into touch with the
local shrinks before I lose my mind (and those of umpteen zillion other
clones as well...) completely - *ZAP!*
Arrgghhh, not a particularly pleasant memory that one!! But at least
I now know where I am, I am in a WoW world yet again, and in the [gulp!]
underworld at that - thank God for the clonecarnation where that crazed
scientist shrunk me to molecular size; seeing that even such compact walls
as these are mostly hollow space helped cure [OK OK, you nitpicker, let's
say alleviate it, then] my claustrophobia - now it doesn't bother me half
as much as before...
Let's see if I can drag up further memories from this past clonecarnation,
then - the natives would not be particularly impressed by the vivid memory
I just re-experienced...
Grrr... More bad news - wonder if I should try to appear under a pseudonym
this time; the under dwarves of Free Marton will hardly be impressed with
a new clonecarnation of a wizard who caused their capital to fall prey
to a Dark Lord some eons (or years?) ago...
-Hello, Alodar!! Great to see you again here amongst us underdwarves,
sir!!
[So much for trying to go undercover {HELP! I am underground!! Quick
now, what was the magic mantra - "I do NOT look like a plate of spaghetti
with meatballs." - whew, that still seems to help} but at least the guy
doesn't seem too angry about my past failures...]
-Hello, fella, and I must say that I am happily surprised that you seem
happy to see me again - I still have nightmares about that dark lord which
ravaged your beautiful city...
-That is exactly the point, my lord, we underdwarves simply LOVE
to build, build and re-build again, and that dark lord (once it eventually
got bored and left) kept us happy and content for years! Do you perchance
plan a similar treat for us this time, my lord?!
[Double cursed be my Freudian slips - now they affect my hearing as
well! I know he said 'content' {since I did cast the rehearsay spell to
confirm} but I thought I heard him say 'contempt' - maybe I shouldn't have
invested so many of my brain cells in that other clonecarnation trying
to learn to speak the name of wizard Tyranthraxus, that seems to have caused
some havoc with the wirings in my brain - not that it was particularly
greatly wired {rather quite weirdly wired, to be perfectly honest} in the
first place...]
-My lord?
-Well, ahem... Actually I think I have some other building projects
in mind this time, but only time will tell! Now please bring me to your
(new!) magic college!
[Somewhat later]
-WoW - this new college really look great! You underdwarves really ARE
excellent builders!
-Glad to see you like it, wizard Alodar! We have even kept a small relic
since your last visit in the hope you would one day return! Good bye for
now, and good luck with youe plans (whatever they are this time)!
Relic? I'm quite sure I didn't go dark last time I was here, so it can't
be the WoW-specific Saint's Relic he is talking about?! Well, I'll find
out soon enough - here we seem to have the library... [sniff?]
Oh, SH*T !! They've kept my old trousers from whence I first arrived
!! I'll get rid of THAT relic before doing anything else - hmm, wait...
The worst way to fight jinxes is denial, so maybe I'll keep it after all
- though I'll definitely seal it in an airtight box first... [Casting the
spell 'Seal an old smelly relic in an airtight box']
OK, now that all old jinxes from this world have been take care of,
let's get down to business - now where do I start... Hmm, this title looks
promising:
"A Short Introduction to the Foundations of Magick in the Lands of Arragoth".
"A short introduction" - that sounds good! I like them short and snappy
- wait, what says the fine print...
"Volume I of XLII"...
*sigh* Still one jinx seems to remain...
Contact Alodar the Apprentice at rwikman@ra.abo.fi
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
Contact Rathnagz at r.newcombe@west-cheshire.ac.uk
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
Contact Nameless Wizard at pf@goip.dk
The Saga of Dunwoody the Disperser
Come one and come all while I Nhoj the Bard weave ye a tale about Dunwoody the Disperser. A great wizard that has had
misfortunes as well as great luck. He has known life and death, he has
known happiness and sadness, and he known great wealth and poverty. So
please my lords and lasses, and for a little spare coinage to aide me, take
a load off your weary feet and I will regale ye with this tale. If ye
cannot spare the coinage, I bid you fare well.
Listen to the story
The only way to spin this saga is to start at the very beginning of his
life. Dunwoody the Disperser was born to King
Trebor and Queen Amleht of the hill dwarf clan of Sh Tiffirg in the kingdom
of Ana Idni one hundred and thirty eight years ago. King Trebor was a
powerful man with great wisdom and a caring spirit. He ruled over his lands
with a gentle spirit that made all his people prosper and happy. Queen
Amleht was equally loved by all in the Kingdom and when Prince Dunwoody and
his brother Ec Nerwal were sired the kingdom rejoiced knowing that the King
would teach his offspring to be as fair and just as he was.
As with most youths, the early years of Dunwoody's life was spent learning from his father
values that he would carry with him throughout his glorious life. He
learned to trust people and to honor his word. He learned learned the art
of combat so that he could defend himself in battle if ever it arose. As
with any King, King Trebor desired that when his time to pass the torch of
ruling the kingdom came, his son's would have a kingdom that all the lands
would admire. Ana Idni was rich with trees, but lacked in other resourced
need to build a pwerful kindom. So he expanded his empire one kingdom at a
time. Unlike many kings who rule with an iron fist and take lands by force,
King Trebor, would take kindoms peacefully.
First came the lands of Oiho in the north country. Lush green fields of
corn and wheat. The lands provided the kingdom with enough foods to feed
all the people so they would never feel hungry. And the people of the lands
rejoiced.
Next came the lands of Ees Sen Net. Within the mountains of Ees Sen Net,
were found the stone needed to build strong and sturdy buildings. Paths and
roads were built to aid in the movement of goods from one part of the
kingdom to other parts. Walls were built to help protect the people from
unwanted attacks. Wells and aqueducts were constructed for fresh water and
the people rejoiced.
Following Ees Sen Net, the lands of Aig Roeg, to the south joined the Sh
Tiffirg realm. The hills and mountians in the northern part of the lands
were full of the iron needed to build stronger weapons. Mining in the
mountains brought great joy to the two princes, as dwarves crave mining.
For close to eighteen summers, the Sh Tiffirg clan maintained their base of
power in the Aig Roeg until once more the urge to expand came to King
Trebor.
Again to the south went the kingdom. This time it was the lands of Adi Rolf
that joined the kingdom. Rich in minerals and surrounded on three sides by
great oceans, it was a perfect land to end his expansion. Building docks
and ships, allowed for the food supply to increase even during rough winter
months. You can almost hear the waves on as they caress the beaches if you
listen.
Dunwoody had a burning desire to have adventure
in his life. He would spend months traveling to and fro seeking knowledge.
On one such adventure, he came across a sight that made his dwarven blood
boil. In a clearing he spotted an Orc battling a large force of brigans.
Though outnumbered fifty to one Dunwoody could
see that this Orc was well versed in the art of combat. The Orc would not
let a single brigand get the better of him, but Dunwoody knew that it would only take one lucky hit of
the blade and the Orc would be finished.
With a mighty battle roar that froze the brigands in their place, Dunwoody
rushed into the frey to aide this unknown Orc. With his weapon of choice,
the War Hammer, Dunwoody smote brigands to the left and right. Subduing
handfuls with each mighty swing of his hammer. Within a matter of minutes
the battle was over and any surviving brigands fled for their lives.
The Orc was unsure at first of what to make of this Hill Dwarf, for neither
of the races desire to be with outsiders. But this was a bond that was
forge in battle, so the gods must think that they should be friends. The
Orcs name was Kram of the Snik Taw clan and like Dunwoody he was searching adventure while honing his
skills.
For eighteen years the two adventurers traveled the lands of Adi Rolf. For
eighteen years Kram taught Dunwoody the Orcish
toungue, while Dunwooody did the same for Kram.
It seemed that the two would never part company, but that would not be the
case.
In Adi Rolf, both Princes grew into adulthood and King Trebor felt it was
time to turn the running of the kingdom over to them. Before that could
take place they must first find a Queen for no land is complete without a
Queen. They both search all the lands for a suitable queen and in Nerak of
the Nehc Tuccm clan of the shire Apmat Dunwoody
felt he had found his.
Dunwoody would find out all too late that this
queen was in reality a temptress. She had her our plans for conquest and
once she had conviced Dunwoody that she would
honor him, she put her plan into action. She placed into his ale one
evening a drug so powerful that it imoblized his very soul. Unable to
defend himself or speak, she sold him into slavery to an aquaintance of
hers, Ecrof Ria.
Ecrof Ria was a evil person, but he was not a dumb person. He knew that he
could not keep Dunwoody in Adi Rolf, else face
the wrath of Trebor, but did not wish to kill him either. He saw that Dunwoody was an excelent fighter and would earn him a
fortune in the fighters ring. So he shipped Dunwoody off to fight in Dnaly Ram.
For six long years Dunwoody faught in the
arenas. Facing all sorts of opponents, both on two legs and four legs.
very time Dunwoody would enter the ring made a
large sum of gold for Ecrof Ria, but he learned that trebor had learned of
his location so he sent him across the great ocean to the lands of Ynam Reg.
Once again into the arenas he went and once again gold he made for his
owner. Dunwoody was not bitter at his owner,
for he knew that one day his freedom would come and he could once again take
his place at the table of honor. Nine years passed and once more Trebor
learned of his location and once again he sailed. this time to Aksar Ben.
With each move to a different land Dunwoody
would learn as much of the cultures and languages that he could. He always
reminded himself that his father would want him to build his knowledge,
which is the cornerstone to being a great leader. it seemed that every six
to nine years, King Trebor would learn of Dunwoody's location and Ecrof Ria would send him to
another land.
In the lands of Amanap Dunwoody almost lost
hope. he had gotten word of the death of his father and that his mother was
sticken with an aligment that the healers could not cure. At this point in
his life Dunwoody vowed that he would some day
return to his father's kingdom and be the King that he was supposed to be.
At about the same time that Dunwoody's father
died, his capture Ecrof Ria also met his end. His passing was sudden and
unexplained, so that word could not be passed on to the new owner, to not
ever send Dunwoody to Adi Rolf.
The slaver that took control of all the salves that Ecrof Ria owned had been
a slave in the past. He was gentler than the previous owner and had a
kinder heart. Things were beginning to look up for Dunwoody. Dunwoody did
not feel the whip nearly as often with this new master. As popular of a
entertainer as Dunwoody was the master would
invite him to chat for hours at a time.
Less than nine years passed when Dunwoody
received word that the caravan was headed for some land to the north, Adi
Rolf. He had to not show too much excitement over the announcement lest the
master figure something was awry and cancel the trip. It seemed to take a
lifetime to get to their final destination, but they finally arrived in Adi
Rolf.
Gloom once more took over Dunwoody when word
reached his ears that they were no longer in the kingdom of the Sh Tiffirg
clan. Whilst his father was out scouring the lands near and far for his
missing son, other leaders had been taking advantage of his kingdom and
taking over the lands. All that was left of the once mighty Sh Tiffirg
kingdom was the one shire that his brother was able to hang on to. As with
most of his life in bondage, Dunwoody's fate was
about to have a silver lining.
You see, a powerful Orc King got word of a Hill Dwarf slave, that fought in
the arenas almost like he was possessed by the gods. What caught the king's
attention was the fact that this Hill Dwarf also knew the orcish tongue,
which is not an easy tongue to master. He had to see this fighter in action.
To the arena in Adi Rolf, the king traveled. In the ring he did spy a
familiar face, one he had not seen for years. If you had not guessed who
this mighty king is, his name is Kram.
In his own way, Kram conviced the slaver that it would be in the slavers'
best interest to sell him the ownership of Dunwoody. After all these years in bondage, after all
these years of humilation, after all these years of fighting for his very
life, Dunwoody was once more breathing the air
of freedom.
Now it is time for Dunwoody to do what he was
meant to do all these years. He is about to reclaim his right as king and he
is going to start right NOW. He is going to start with the lands of Arragoth
and go from land to land. He does not wish to take the lands by force, just
as his father had done all those years ago, but the arena has made him a
fighter to recon with. He willingly will take on allies as long as they are
ture of heart, but be forwarned, those who wish treachery upon him as his
former Queen found out, will not be living a long life indeed.
This has been the saga of Dunwoody the
Disperser. I Nhoj the bard hope that you have enjoyed listening to
the tale as much as I have enjoyed telling it. May that sun shine bright to
lead you on your journies and the rain be kind to your crops. I am sure you
will hear from me again when once more I can weave the coninuing saga of
Dunwoody
Contact Dunwoody the Disperser at johngriffiths041558@earthlink.net
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
Contact Elrond at mjorr@indiana.edu
No Blurb Submitted As Yet.
Contact Tamelaine at Philip.J.Robinson@btinternet.com
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